Jake X Jane Homestuck Fanfiction

The Big Move

Chapter three : The Big Move

It was the first thing I saw when we pulled in the driveway of our new rental house. Not the crisp white paint, the cheerful green trim, or the wide welcoming porch. I didn't even notice, initially, the houses on either side, similar in size and style  one with a carefully manicured lawn, the walk lined with neat shrubs, the others with cars parked in their yard, empty red plastic cups scattered around them. Instead, there was just this, sitting at the very end of the drive, waiting to welcome us personally.

We pulled right up to it, neither of us saying anything. Then my dad cut the engine, and we both leaned forward, looking up through the windshield as it loomed above us.

A basketball goal. Of course. Sometimes life is just hilarious,

For a moment, we both just stared. Then my dad dropped his hand from the ignition. "Let's get unpacked," he said, and pushed his door open. I did the same, following him back to the U-Haul. But I swear it was like I could feel something watching me as I pulled out my suitcase and carried it up the steps.

The house was cute, small but really cozy, and had clearly been renovated recently. The kitchen appliances looked new, and there was no tack or nail marks on the walls. My dad headed back outside, still unloading, while I gave myself a quick tour, getting my bearings. Cable already installed, and wireless : that was good. I had my own bathroom : even better. And from the looks of it, we were an easy walking distance from downtown, which meant less transportation hassle than the last place. I was actually feeling good about things, basket-ball reminders aside, at least I stepped out onto the back porch and found someone stretched out there on a stack of patio furniture cushions.

I literally shriecked, the sound high-pitched and so girly I probably would have been embarassed if I wasn't so startled. The person on the cushions was equally surprised, though, at least judging by the way he jumped, turning around to look at me as I scrambled back through the open door behind me, grabbing for the knob so I could shut it between us. As I flipped the dead bolt, my heart still pounding, I was able to put together that it was a guy in shorts and long hair, wearing a faded-flannel shirt, beat up Addidas on his feet. He'd been reading a book, something thick, when I interrupted him.

Now, as I watched, he sat up, putting it down beside him. He brushed back his hair, messy and brown, then picked up a jacket he'd had balled up under his head, shaking it out. It was a faded corduroy, with some kind of insignia on the front, and I stood there watching him as he slipped it on, calm as you please, before getting back to his feet and picking it up whatever he'd been reading, which I now saw was a textbook of some kind. Then he pushed back his hair with one hand and turned, looking right at me through the glass of the door between us. Sorry, he mouthed.

"Janey," my dad yelled from the foyer, his voice echoing down the empty hall. "I've got your laptop. Do you want me to put it in your room?"

I just stood there, frozen, staring at the guy. His eyes were emerald green through his wire-rimmed glasses, his face winter pale but peach-cheeked. I was still trying to decide if I should scream for help when he smiled at me and gave me a weird little salute, touching his fingers to his temple. Then he turned and pushed out the door into the yard. He ambled across the deck, under the basketball goal, and over the fence of the house next door, which he jumped with what, to me, was a surprising amount of grace. As he walked up the side steps, the kitchen door opened. The last thing I saw was him squaring his shoulders, like he was bracing for something, before dissapearing inside.

"Janey?" my dad called again. He was coming closer now, his footsteps echoing. When he saw me, he held up my laptop case. "Do you know where you want this?"

I looked back at the house next door that the guy had just gone into, wondering what his story was. You didn't hang out in what you thouht was an empty house when you lived right next door unless you didn't feek like being at home. And it was his home, that much was clear. You could tell when a person belonged somewhere. That is something you can't fake, no matter how hard you try.

"Thanks," I said to my dad, turning to face him. " Just put it anywhere."

Yep, and that was your little hint of Jake fucking English right there

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