JFGogh (SFW) Series Finale

Part 9; Slow dancing in the dark

The morning brought coldness and carried the same dull silence as did the passing moments where tragedy was in progression. The air was still, no wind or even gusts of freshness were detected anywhere.
It was a strange concept to grasp. The world was grey and empty, yet so full of question and worry. Each passing moment was a replica of the past. There was the same ongoing tension between winning and losing. To either win a painful battle and bring yourself back to the cruel reality, or to land onto a solid platform of rest, with no way back up. It was scary.
So many thoughts, but not a word to say that could change the harsh world presented.
John's head ached badly, it throbbed. He suddenly realized he was still in class. The deafening silence was too much. His hands were shaking uncontrollably, his breathing becoming heavy and unsteady. JFK spun his head around, feeling the walls getting taller and closer at rapid speeds. He grasped the edges of his desk, feeling lightheaded and frozen. He wanted to shout, cry, to throw the wooded station. He couldn't.
Students had their eyes glued to him, they were concerned and worried. Voices from all around echoed inside.
"JFK? Are you okay?! JFK? Are you there?!"
They all sounded loud, he couldn't tell who was who.
The teacher stood up, watching the act unfold. He neared himself to Kennedy, placing his hands atop of the students and repeating his name.
"Mr. Kennedy? Mr. Kennedy, please respond." He kept chanting the words over and over until suddenly everything became so real to JFK. He gasped loudly, pulling his hands back as they quivered. He looked around, his heart racing as he noticed everyone looking at him worriedly.
He didn't notice the tears slowly fall from his face.
"Mr. Kennedy, are you okay? I'm going to give you a moment outside to cool down. You're alright. Everything is okay." Mr. Sheepman sounded sympathetic towards the jock. He helped the student up and guided him outside of the classroom, assisting him settle down in front of some lockers.
JFK's head was in excruciating pain. He wanted to scream. Everything was not fine. His best friend was going to die! He was losing everything. He was a train wreck. He hated the teacher. John felt an anger so strong inside, and all he could do was bury his head into his knees and cry silently until he fell asleep.

Van Gogh was anxious after witnessing it all. He felt so hurt for his friend. The sorrow he carried was a lot, he had only hoped JFK would soon read his message. That he'd see how loved he was.
Vincent had to keep strong. He had to be hopeful, because if no one was, then there was no way Ponce would make it out alive. Van took a deep breath and gazed into the hallway, seeing just the ends of JFK's khakis and the tips of his black shoes since the door was left slightly opened.
He smiled sadly. Jack looked so alone and afraid, maybe he needed company... At this point, these thoughts weren't even because of Vin's crush. They came from understanding and the desire to be there, to be someone he himself didn't have.
He stood up, making his way to the teachers desk. Gogh asked him something, giving a hopeful look in his eye. The teacher smiled sympathetically and nodded. Van felt his heart flutter as he slowly made his way outside of the classroom, shutting the door quietly.
JFK lifted his head slowly, rubbing his eyes and relaxing his legs down. He looked over to Van Gogh, who kneeled beside him and reached his hand out.
JFK looked in his eyes curled up into a ball, leaning towards the artsy kid. He felt so vulnerable, but didn't even care. He'd lose all of his popularity and reputation to get his friend back.
Gogh held him, feeling Jack lean his head onto his shoulder as tears streamed down. Van sat there with him, not saying a word. He just let JFK cry into his arms for a while until eventually, the jock leaned his head back into the lockers and closed his eyes. He opened his mouth as if he were going to say something, but all that came out were shaky breaths.
Jack breathed and finally spoke.
"Oh, Vincent... I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I take everything back. All of it. I just want him back. Please. Please..." his voice was flooded with pain and sorrow. He was quiet and didn't sound like himself.
Van Gogh hesitated for a moment.
"No, no, no... Jack don't you apologize for anything. Don't you ever apologize for no good reason. Listen to me. You're going to be okay. I know it's hard right now, but you'll make it through, okay? Please just trust me." He hugged JFK, who sighed and nodded.
Eventually, the bell rang. Gogh helped Jack up and patted his shoulder, not wanting to embarrass him yet again in front of the crowded hallways by expressing too much emotion .

That night, Van Gogh felt fulfilled in a way. By being there for the one he loved, he knew he had done something good. He fell asleep with a feeling of ease and peace, for the first time in a long time.

JFK sat in his bed, just listening to the sounds of the outside. There wasn't much, in fact, little to nothing going on.
He looked to his left and noticed his phone. He hadn't checked it since the dance. He snatched it in his hands and opened it. There were tens of hundreds of notifications. Most of them were messages from his friends trying to comfort him. He swiped quickly, noticing an uncomfortable similarity in a vast majority of the messages. They were all more or less the same.
"I'm sorry. Stay strong X." It made him question his friends, but he couldn't blame them. He reached Cleo's messages, some angry, some vaguely pitiful.
JFK just kept deleting the notifications, until he eventually reached one that had caught his eye. The contact read "Vincent Van Gogh". He clicked the message.
His eyes watered with each word that appeared on the screen. His heartbeat grew more consistent and noticeable. He wiped his tears away, and smiled. Inside felt uplifted, as though a light had surfaced in a sea of darkness. His breaths grew a little heavier, but in a good way. He... loves me. He really loves me. He cares... JFK relaxed into a sleeping position and he hugged his phone tightly. He fell asleep with the device still on, secure in his arms.

A.N:
Eek I know there's a lot of crying in these last few chapters but what did you expect😏 Anyways I'm trying to not make it sound too repetitive. I promise the next chapter will be more,,, eventful if you will. I'm so happy we got to 700 reads. I'm so grateful for the support! When this story ends I plan on writing another one so any ideas are appreciated. Thank you all so much!