Ever After

Not That Kind Of Guy

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This chapter is in Jack's perspective.

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Life seemed to get a lot less interesting when he wasn't around.

I mean, I'll be honest - I'm a lucky guy. I've got a family (of seven) that loves me, a roof over my head and, unlike Mark, my own bedroom to seclude myself in. I'd become accustomed to taking things for granted, not realizing how lucky I was to not have a part-time job or to have a father who doesn't stress over bills, and yet life still felt extremely empty, every wasted second making me feel more and more unproductive.

I used my unproductive life as an excuse towards why I was such a troublemaker. It seems as if, nowadays, life is so boring, so dull whenever he isn't next to me. There's no one to care about in the same way, no person or thing that could possibly replace the space he'd once occupied. I could always feel the same empty void, the space of nothingness staring back at me whenever I was alone, whenever I had nothing to do, which seemed to becoming more and more normal.

I could feel time passing me by, but I refuse to do anything about it. What can you do when the only person that matters isn't nearby?

My first thought was to turn to Shadow Of The Colossus, but I immediately shook my head, seeing as I'd already put more than forty-eight consecutive hours into the game already - frankly, I'd grown nervous that, someday, I'd come home to an intervention, my parents worried sick over my addiction to defeating giant colossi. My second thought was to do chores, but that was out of the question - my two brothers, two sisters, and two parents could do those for themselves. All that was left to do was lie against my mattress, staring blankly into the ceiling above, my mind begging of what Mark could possibly be doing at this very moment.

If I thought hard enough, I could see him sitting on the couch doing homework, his face riddled with guilt from what we'd done the night before. I could see him making coffee in the kitchen, still just as unwilling to take a sip of whiskey as he'd been the first time I saw him do it. I could see him leaning out over the balcony, watching as he shipped off balloons lit up like lanterns into the night sky, his eyes wistful as they followed them as far as they could go.

And, every time I could see him, he looked exactly the same - he was always given the same look of nervousness, and yet giddiness, accompanied by the slightest hint of awkwardness. To be honest, I could never truly tell why I'd fallen so hard for him, but I had, and, somehow, he'd made me fall hard enough to be incapable of standing without his support, as if he were someone I needed to lean on every second of the day.

Which, as I lay on my bed by my lonesome, I recognized as true - the second we'd parted ways, I'd just gone straight to my room, locking myself away from the rest of the world as if the last few months had never occurred. It was sad, really - when I was around Mark, I felt so sociable, so connected to another person, so happy to be able to tell him everything. I felt so different around him, as if I'd changed entirely from the person I was at the start of the year. But, truthfully, I was no different at all - it was only a front, a way I acted around him, rather than who I was as a person. He made me feel sociable, connected, and able to tell him anything and everything, but, when it was just me, myself, and I, I was the exact same Jack I'd been in September, lonesome and wishing he were with someone else.

I sighed.

Things could be worse, I told myself. Then, I nodded, although I had no idea as to why I had.

I knew I was right - things could be worse. Things could always be worse, couldn't they? It's the way things are now. Our society is so much different than it used to be, for we're all developing into earning more and more privileges, newer ways of life; no matter how often we find the time to feel sorry for ourselves and hateful to others, we can't help but admit that things could be worse.