Ever After

Swing Set

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This chapter is in Jack's perspective.

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I felt the wind replace the taste of Mark's lips from seconds ago, our legs dangling within it as we sat on the swing set, unsure of what was to come free from our mouths upon opening them. I couldn't believe what he'd told me - no matter how hard I tried, it seemed impossible; it seemed stupid. How could he be fired for being with me, for just spending time with me?

It was a shitty world, one that gays didn't yet belong in (at least, not one hundred percent, despite what the government has said), but this wasn't because of our affection towards one another. This was because of the exact reason I'd presumed - it was because of my influence on Mark, my taking up too much of his time, time that he had too little of to begin with.

How could I have done this to him? How could I have deprived him of his job, his time spent at home, his time on the couch, doing homework in front of the TV? I mean, sure, he was excused from working on Halloween night, but what about every other one we'd thrown away to kiss and touch? It was just mouth-to-mouth practice throughout the day. We'd become so accustomed to running off with one another, finding the closest, most discreet place to lock lips, whether it be the bathroom or janitor's closet. It'd become my favourite hobby, the only thing I thought about before going to bed at night - the taste of his lips, the look of his face, the feeling of his skin against mine. It disturbed me how easy it'd been for me to fall for him, for me to see him as the sun in a dark sky, to look forward to seeing him every day (so eagerly) - it was frightening, really, but not nearly as frightening as the thought of living without him.

But I couldn't take him away from what he had, couldn't spend every second with him no matter how hard I wished upon every one of the billions of stars. He'd just been fired from his job, had just run free from the manager's office and straight to my house, only to sit on the swing sets outside of it, slumped over in his seat as I swayed back and forth, struggling to find activities to prevent me from squeezing the very life out of him.

My eyes, however, felt no guilt in staring him down, spectating as he kicked at some of the pebbles beneath his feet, watching as his eyes admired the way they scattered.

"... I'm sorry," I said, feeling as if the phrase was becoming more and more popular every second I spent with such a pitiful, sexy soldier. "I shouldn't have been so selfish."

Mark shook his head at the mention of the word. "It's my fault for taking so many days off," Mark insisted, his eyes still enticed by the earth below. "I just wish they'd warned me."

"I can't speak for your manager," I said, "but I'm positive your brother didn't know about it. Blood comes first, right?"

He nodded now. "Yeah. But it doesn't change anything; whether my brother defended me or not, I still lost my job, and that's that."

I paused, realizing only now that he hadn't given me the full diagnosis on what'd taken place in the dreaded meeting - upon asking, he began speaking, only to be interrupted by me at the mention of Felix's name.

"Felix was there?" I hissed, feeling anger kick at my gut. "What was that prick doin'?"

A shrug. "I'm sure he had something to say. They were probably suspicious of how he'd managed to strike up a conversation with me that one time - remember? When he, Killian, and Will made me write out their drama script?" I nodded. "Yeah... they probably thought he was someone who could know why I was skipping out so much."

"But that still doesn't explain your brother," I stated, not intending on starting any family feuds. "Why didn't he defend you?"

"He must've tried to," Mark insisted, clearly dedicated to defending his brother's honour, "in private. But I think he was just in shock... I know he understands that I'm into boys and all, but it's still something that's difficult to get used to, you know?"