16 Years of Humiliation (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 1 - Origins

[A/N - short author's note, just about some of the formatting in this story, since you'll see it quite often. Whenever a paragraph has two "tildes" at the start with everything in italics, that's to signify Jake's thoughts and observations looking back from present day on the flashbacks. Hope that makes sense! Anyway, enjoy this chapter and remember to comment!]

The gentle rush of the breeze kissing Jake's cheeks was the only noise fighting through the haze of crippling emotions in his head. On this sunny Sunday afternoon, with the summer greens all around reluctantly giving way to the burnt oranges and browns of autumn, Jake found himself alone and hopeless as he stood on the red metal footbridge spanning the river that sliced through the farmland between his town and the outskirts of Dunsbury where his school stood.

He'd walked this route morning and afternoon, five days a week for almost four years now; sometimes alone, but more often than not with his childhood soul-mate by his side. Lucy McDonald understood Jake better than anyone – always knowing just the right thing to say to have him doubled-over in fits of laughter whenever he needed a pick-me-up, but she also understood the importance of just being there for him without the need to say a thing. Words weren't necessary when you could convey a million sentences with just a single look or a gentle hand on a shoulder.

Living just two doors apart on the same street, Jake and Lucy had rarely been apart, and Jake had been so relieved on the day that they discovered they would be in the same registration class at high school. He couldn't imagine facing the daily stress and torment of school without her – she exuded the confidence that he wished he possessed, and with her close-by, he knew that he at least stood a fighting chance of coping with the next six years. Coping was a good outcome for Jake – it certainly beat the crushing embarrassment and mental anguish that normally ensued whenever he was left alone.

As high school had progressed, and everyone had been forced to select their elective classes in third year, Jake had tried his best to select the classes that Lucy was hoping to specialise in, but it quickly became clear to him that they couldn't be kept together for all of the time. For a start, Lucy adored French – she lived every day hoping that one morning, a dashing Monsieur would call at her door and whisk her off to Paris – whereas Jake was far more attracted to Spanish (he blamed his parents for taking him on two holidays a year to the Spanish Costas; it was such a challenge to be their son at times!)

Less time together in class meant that Lucy had gradually built another group of friends out with the small circle that she shared with Jake, and while there was always that common bond that had been present since primary school between them, Jake couldn't help but feel that she was being slowly pulled away from him, like the widening cracks on an Arctic iceberg, cracking and shattering the bonds that had held them together for what felt like forever.

The one constant that they had; the one thing that had never changed, was their love of music. Listening, performing, living, breathing music – it was what had initially been the source of great friction and debate between the youngsters as they were growing up; Jake having always enjoyed the more poppy, radio-friendly songs, while Lucy was a bit more edgy and alternative in her taste. Over time, they had begun writing music together – recording their amateur efforts on Lucy's old white cassette recorder that her mother had gifted to her. More often than not, these recording sessions would end in anarchy when Jake would keep playing the wrong chord on his keyboard, or Lucy would completely screw up her lyrics and fits of uncontrollable laughter would take them over for hours on end.

Now, Lucy's addictive giggling echoed around Jake's brain like distant fragments of another boy's life as he stood, shaking and broken on the red bridge that he had walked over almost every day for the past four years. The scratching sensation at the back of his throat couldn't be soothed by swallowing as his mouth was now like a desert plain, scorched and dry. His heart was resonating through every artery in his body, but he still felt like a hollow shell as the wind now started to pick up and blow the first fallen leaves in swirls around him.