Archive of Our Own

He was stupid for thinking this would fix anything.

A Halloween party wouldn't change anything about his mess of a life.

The house was messy. It wasn't ruined. Nothing was ruined. Or maybe everything was. Some part of him thought that if he messed everything up enough, his parents would look in his direction and everything would be better.

Now, everything was messed up and his parents still weren't looking. They didn't look when he was perfect. They never really looked.

Jake didn't understand why he felt so lost. The alcohol thrummed in his head as he observed his own party. It wasn't right.

People danced, drunk, and grinded to their hearts content. Nothing was right. It wasn't right. Why did everything feel so wrong all the time?

Christine had broken up with him. He didn't know why he liked her in the first place. She seemed like she would be perfect for him. If they kissed, everything would fall into place.

She held concern and care for him in a way he never received before her. That should have fixed everything. Instead, it felt wrong. It was wrong.

They were pretending, she had said. He was a jerk, she had said. He was. He felt like a jerk. Jake didn't know why he wanted to be with Christine. He almost grew bored of her. What did that say about him?

She had sat him down on his couch. It was ripped. Who had done that? Christine gave this huge speech about her decision. It was kinder than he deserved. It was more than he ever cared to give. He broke up with Chloe in a sentence after a year of dating and longer off and on.

Jake didn't know how to reply. The beer made his brain fuzzy. He gave a pathetic nod and stood.

As soon as he left the room, he was met with Brooke.

"Have you seen Jeremy?" She asked.

He hadn't seen him in awhile. They faced off in the dance circle near the beginning of the party. That was back when things seemed fun.

Before Jake could even get a word in, Jenna interrupted. "I saw him go upstairs towards Jake's parents room with-"

Instead of letting Jenna finish, Jake grabbed Brooke's hand and dragged her upstairs.

He was already done with the night. Despite being done dating Christine anyway, something ached. Her choosing to break up with him meant she could easily let him go. It was proof he was easier to let go of then love. That could be idiotic. It felt true.

"Jeremy?" Brooke knocked at the door. "Are you in there? Jenna Rolan said she saw you come up here."

There was muffled talking on the other side of the door. Brooke looked stressed and Jake felt impatient.

Brooke was one of the few girls he was close with that he had never seen in a romantic or sexual light. Instead, she felt like a sister. He was protective of her in an unreasonable way.

He banged his fist on the door, much louder than Brooke, and yelled, "Jeremy Heere! You better not be having sex on my parents bed!"

Sex with someone other than Brooke was left unsaid.

"Because if you were," He continued. "I would have to rip your balls off." Every word was accentuated by a loud pound on the door.

"Great!" Chloe screamed back. "That way you'll both be ball-less!"

His heart dropped. "Chloe!?" He said pathetically in shock.

He saw Brooke's eyes widen. He had never seen her look so hurt.

"That's right!" Chloe moaned. "I'm having hot sex with Jeremy all over your parents linens!"

She moaned as the bed creaked.

Jake's blood boiled.

Who the fuck did Jeremy Heere think he was to cheat on Brooke like this? And Chloe. Fucking Chloe. Was this to make him jealous? Upset? What was it? Why did it have to be something that ruined everything for Brooke? Did Chloe even consider that? Was Chloe so self-centered that she couldn't understand that maybe Jake just wanted to move on from her? Was she so absorbed with what she wanted that she didn't care about hurting Brooke?

There were more words on the other side of the door that didn't process as he continued to pound on the door.

Fuck it. There was a window outside the room with easy access.

He wasn't being rational and he was drunk. He was so fucking angry at Jeremy, Chloe, and himself. At everyone, even.

Jake rushed out of the house into the backyard. There was a trash bin he climbed on. His body was on autopilot. Nothing fully processed. Not even when his fist slammed through the window, tearing open his skin.

Chloe was on top of Jeremy. Rage filled him again. Jeremy jumped up quickly and ran to unlock the door.

Before he knew it, Jake was chasing Jeremy through the entire second floor. They ran through crowds. Jake was a good runner. He was also very drunk.

Somewhere within the crowded hallways, Jake lost Jeremy. He kept looking around until he spotted Chloe heading down the stairs, ready to leave. An angry rant formed on his tongue.

"Chloe, what the fuck!" He yelled.

Chloe turned around, a glare fixing itself on her face. "Why do you even care? You broke up with me, remember!?"

Just then, Christine showed up out of nowhere. She could have been there the whole time. His head was spinning. She was in her pretty dress. She was a princess. The dress was so fluffy.

"Is everything okay?" Christine asked kindly. He never deserved a girlfriend like her. She was too nice for him. His poison would have infected her if she stayed much longer.

"Stay out of this!" Chloe snapped. It lost some of its edge with how slurred her words were. She was more drunk than Jake.

"Oh, okay," Christine mumbled. She seemed unsure of herself before finally heading down the stairs.

"Chloe, you are such a fucking bitch!" He tried to yell. It came out in a near sob. He didn't realize how emotional he was feeling.

"Cry me a river," Chloe retorted slowly. Her face was going green. "I'm gonna go... that way.."

She fumbled her way down the stairs. He grumbled to himself before continuing to search for Jeremy.

He knocked on the bathroom door, looked in the empty rooms, and checked the basement. If he hadn't left the house, the only place Jake had yet to check was the second living room, where most of the drinks were set up.

This would be way easier if he had a smaller house. He hated this big house.

Jake ran his hands down his face and removed the shitty wig on his head. The costume didn't feel fun anymore. Nothing did.

He saw a girl leading Brooke, who was sobbing, out of the house. That gave him further determination to find Jeremy and beat him up. Or something. He didn't know what he'd do.

Jake didn't consider himself a bully. He had never beaten anyone up. Maybe his words were harsh and he would laugh occasionally when he saw Rich make fun of someone. That wasn't the same. He didn't think it was. He couldn't be a mean person.

He wasn't exactly sure what he would do to Jeremy when he found him. Jake just knew it wouldn't be pretty. Maybe he would be mean.

As he stormed towards the room, he realized how empty the house was getting. He hated when it got empty. It must be late. The majority of the guests had shuffled out.

Rich crashed into him. He looked utterly pathetic. He was flinching every second or so. He looked awful. Jake didn't have time to deal with this.

Jake's night was going horribly. He just wanted to find Jeremy. Actually, he didn't even want that anymore. He just wanted to kick everyone out. Maybe he'd miss some people. Maybe Rich would crash on his bedroom floor. Whatever. He was tired and he was drunk and he wanted the night to end and for everything to be perfect and for everything to go back to how it used to be when he was happy and when his parents still cared.

Instead, Rich desperately whimpered, "Please, I need Mountain Dew Red..."

Jake was tired. So tired. Was that a drink? Like an alcoholic Shirley Temple?

"I don't know," He said honestly.

"So you might?" Rich looked so happy. He flinched and moaned in pain.

"I don't know what that is-"

He didn't get to finish as Rich sobbed. Jake's eyebrows furrowed as he watched his friend, clearly in pain, let out these desperate cries. No tears leaked from his eyes. His whole body shook.

"Your best friend isn't real," Rich admitted. "I'm not real."

"What?"

Rich had said this once before. They were drunk at the time. They were laying on Jake's basement floor as a shitty movie played. "I'm not real," Rich uttered. Jake laughed then; he was confused now.

Jake didn't want to be faced with Rich right now. He looked like he was on the verge of a break down. Was it rude to say he wanted someone else to deal with it? He just wanted to sleep and be done with the fucking night.

Rich ran in another direction. Jake stood still, unsure of what to do. He heard Rich continue to yell about some drink for a couple more minutes.

He just stood there, confused. Time passed around him. He thought a couple more people left.

Jake didn't move until the fire alarms went off. Even then, it took him a few moments to move. He didn't run like everyone else. He walked out of the house slowly. He didn't really think there was a real fire. He heard people yell. Surely, it was just the smoke from a blunt.

You never realize how fast fire moves until you witness it devouring it's surroundings.

He first saw the fire before he even left the house. The smoke was strong. He ran the rest of the way.

Outside, the fire devoured his house hungrily. It wasn't to the point of covering the entire house yet. The flames were towards one side of the bottom floor.

A sick part of him smiled at the sight. The house was being ruined. Surely, he would never have to see the inside ever again.

He scolded himself for the thought. This was his childhood home. He should love it.

Unsure of what action to take, he surveyed the people. There weren't many. Nobody was leaving the house at that point. Everyone made it out in time, hopefully.

Cars were pulling away from the driveway while some walked. Jake would have to explain he threw a party. Nobody would want to be seen at that party. In fact, the only people still in the yard were Jenna and some other girl she was talking to. They weren't focused on him.

Had someone called the fire department?

Before he could call, just in case, a terrifying thought hit him.

Rich would stay. Rich always stayed after parties. At the very least, he would check on Jake before going home. He wasn't in the yard.

Thinking back to when he'd seen Rich, he realized how drunk he seemed.

Rich must have passed out, completely wasted, and didn't wake up from the screams and alarm. Or he did wake up, but got trapped somehow.

Jake made an idiotic decision in that moment and ran back into the house.

It wasn't like in movies where a crowd watched his heroics on display. Everyone had left, more concerned about saving themselves. The only people who would watch were the nosy neighbors who would wake up to the sound of sirens. It wasn't about him or what he sacrificed. None of that mattered.

Nobody really cared about the victims of tragedies. They just liked tragedies. Tragedies don't seem real until you live through one. They are too difficult to process. Instead, everyone likes to imagine they know what it's like and talk about it as if it's the craziest thing that isn't even real to them.

His house was on fire and he had the sickening realization that nobody gathering outside would know it was his house. They would just know a house was on fire. The old woman three houses down would call her friend, "I never expected to see a house burn." She wouldn't know he lived there. She would have no idea he lived there all alone without his parents.

As Jake ran through the house, searching for Rich, he realized this moment didn't matter and that it didn't redeem anything. Nobody would know. He didn't know if he would ever spread it.

His house was burning. A house was burning. Jake's house he threw his party at burned down. The house from the Halloween party burned down.

His arm raised to cover his mouth after the smoke caused him to cough.

The first floor was practically covered in fire. He wanted to find Rich, but didn't know how, as every entrance was blocked by flames. He went up the stairs, hoping Rich was asleep in his room.

This ending to the night didn't change earlier events. Christine still broke up with him because he was an asshole. Brooke still got cheated on and he was completely useless to help. He still fought with Chloe. At that point, he'd known what she sounded like angry better than he recognized how she sounded happy.

All of that would get erased, even though it still happened. He would become the kid whose house burned down from a stray cigarette someone dropped. He would be the kid left without a house after some drunk idiot tried to microwave a fork. He'd be associated with pity instead of his desired pride.

Searching for Rich didn't make him a good person. Jake didn't even know why he went back into the building.

He stepped into his room. Right as he did, the doorframe cracked. Fear sobered him. Things were clear for him just then.

Jake needed to get out of that house. He hesitated a moment, eyes looking around at his bedroom. He considered grabbing something. His eyes spotted a photo of him and his parents from years ago. Everything should burn.

As the fire spread towards him, he opened the window and pushed out the bug screen.

He didn't even try to climb. He didn't register the firefighters that may be able to help him. Could they help quick enough?

Jake jumped put of the window, adrenaline coursing through his veins.

His legs cracked and he felt nothing but pain as a doctor raced in his direction.

Earlier that day, he wished for the house to be ruined. Even then, he knew he'd be ruining himself at the same time.

The only thing he could hope for was Rich's safety.

--

When he woke up, Jake noticed how numb he felt. It was like he was floating.

Monitors beeped around him. That's all that promised he was alive.

He fell back asleep and awoke just like that a few times.

When Jake finally opened his eyes, he noticed the casts on his legs.

Fuck. What was he going to do about that? He had the play. He had so many people counting on him.

Jake couldn't be in pain and he couldn't have broken legs. There was too much he needed to do.

Nurses surrounded him, breaking off his thoughts.

It was the next time he woke up that he started thinking about the fire.

"Rich!" He yelled to nobody in particular. His mind still wasn't clear. He thrashed in his bed.

A nurse entered the room.

"Is Rich okay!?" He was frantic.

"Hes okay," She answered gently. "Please take a breath."

Jake hadn't realized his breathing picked up. Rich was okay. Rich was okay.

Brooke visited him.

"They think Rich set the fire," She had explained to him. "There's evidence. People saw him."

Jake was confused by that. He wasn't upset about the house. He hated that fucking house. But why? Why would Rich burn it down?

Normally Jake was one to believe whatever was thrown at him at face value. Instead, he decided to wait for Rich's side of the story. He was impatient.

Even with her news, he was glad Brooke visited. He didn't want anyone else to visit. Rich would be nice. That was impossible. According to Brooke, Rich was in intensive care for severe burns.

How had everything gotten so awful? Why was everything so terrible? Making a metaphor about his life going up in flames was unfortunately extremely accurate and not much of a metaphor.

Jake wondered what drove him onto this path. His downfall. Was it the party? Jeremy getting popular? Dating Christine? Breaking up with Chloe?

It could have started when his parents left for good. Maybe it was more fair to start it at childhood when his parents only looked at him when he showed them a gold medal.

Was his life always doomed to be a hot mess?

Sure, Jake was popular. What else was he? Who was he outside of that? What did he have aside from status? Was he much of anyone?

He had friends. Chloe was his ex. Brooke was more of Chloes's friend, as much as he cared for her. He didn't know where to begin with Rich. Could he count the guys off his sports teams?

Who was Jake? He was a jock. He was an asshole. He was... lonely. He wasn't good enough. He wasn't happy.

God, he really had to stop thinking like that. It seemed so harsh to him, yet so annoying and weird from the outside. Self pity is not something he prides himself on.

Jake was asked so many fucking questions. It was dumb to answer honestly. He was sick of lies.

The state decided to let Jake continue living on his own as long as he visited with his social worker twice a month. They were helping him fund an apartment.

He would admit that being a ward of the state had its perks. Jake was just lucky they didn't shove him in a foster home.

They likely took pity on him when he broke down sobbing, explaining how lonely the house was and his desire to fill it. He wanted to take care of himself. He couldn't take care of himself in an environment catered towards a family. That house wouldn't allow him to be his own person. It would only allow him to be their son.

The fire damage in his bedroom was minimal compared to other portions of the house. They were able to save some of his stuff. His social worker wheeled him into his new apartment the day he got out of the hospital.

She was so nice to him. He stayed quiet, staring at the wheels of his wheelchair.

She explained what they had saved. They replaced any important paperwork that was lost. Thank God a lot of his clothes made it out. He wouldn't be able to survive going to the mall in the state he was in.

The savings account his parents left for college was open to him. He didn't worry about rent. It was covered for him. Jake wondered what college would become.

He didn't know what he wanted to be. He enjoyed sports and debating. But, they were to fill the emptiness. Would he want to major in anything like that? He was set for a full recovery. He could get a sports scholarship. Is that what he wanted?

The social worker bid her farewells and left him alone in the apartment. There was no personality.

Jake imagined decorating the walls. He wanted Brooke to come over and help him hang wallpaper. She would enjoy decorating. She would help him have a home. He never felt at home anywhere before.

He slept in his new bed, wondering if things would get better. For him, Rich, or anyone.

Was it possible for things to improve? Could life only get worse?

--

When Jake finally went back to school, it was the day of the play.

It was a Friday. He could have waited until Monday. He just didn't want to let anyone down. It didn't feel fair to abandon the production.

That morning he'd bought a small bottle of vodka off one of his old football buddies. He took two shots on top of his pain medication to help him survive the day.

Jake had crutches intended for standing for short periods of time. Like if he was making dinner or limping to the bathroom. He decided to take them to school. The idea of going to school in a wheelchair made him sick. He didn't want anybody to understand how weak he really was.

Getting around was really slow. He was late to his first class. The teacher didn't say anything about him being late. Normally he would scold him.

Throughout the day, he kept a mixture of pain medicine and vodka in his system. So much was being said about him. None of it was praise. He couldn't handle the words. His fuzzy brain didn't process the theories. They didn't know shit about him or Rich. Rich had to have had a reason. Jake hated that house.

He took another shot before going to rehearsal. They ran through the show once before the play. Jeremy wasn't there. Mr. Reyes understudied him. It was awful. Jake was surprised he got his lines out somewhat correctly.

The rest of the night became a blur.

Jake was approached with pansy serum. When he drank it, he nearly gagged at whatever was in the flat soda. Who decided that combination would work?

When he swallowed, a sharp pain went through his head. Air Bud the dog appeared in front of him? Surely he didn't drink that much...

Some kid in a red hoodie with big headphones asked him to make Jeremy, who arrived right in time for the play, drink some red soda Jake had never seen before. Whatever. He had no reason not to.

A shock went through his body before words flooded his head.

You are amazing, Jake. Nobody can measure up to you, Jake. Nothing about you needs changed, Jake. Dump out the bottle, Jake. Nobody could ever abandon you, Jake. You are even more amazing with me on your side than you were before. You are better.

He blacked out completely after that.

When his eyes opened again, he was in the hospital.

Apparently someone had spiked the prop serum with ecstacy that led to the cast all having seizures somehow. He didn't understand any of that. That wasn't what he was concerned about.

Jake would never regain full use of his legs. Apparently, when high out of his mind, Jake walked and ran and did stupid shit he wasn't supposed to do.

The doctor told him his recovery would take longer than planned. His casts would turn into braces. He was suggested to use crutches every day, even if he felt like he didn't need to. His wheelchair would be needed on the worst days. For now, he was stuck in the wheelchair.

Afterwards, he didn't know how to feel. It didn't feel real. He tried to pretend it wasn't.

He checked his messages. Jenna texted asking if he needed a ride. Apparently, everyone had been discharged a couple hours earlier. He took more time to wake up because of his legs. Jeremy was still in a coma they assumed wouldn't last long. Rich was still in the hospital after Halloween. He was awake.

Jake texted Jenna back and asked if someone could pick him up later. She said to just let her know when.

He was helped into his wheelchair by a nurse and he pushed himself to Rich's room. Operating a wheelchair was still way harder than it seemed.

The room was separated by a curtain. Jeremy was asleep on one side, Rich was awake on the other.

Rich instantly looked down with a guilty expression plastered on his face. He was in a full body cast. The lack of bandages on his face revealed burns that were not fully healed.

"Hey," Jake tried.

Rich awkwardly waved.

He looked so sad and guilty.

By extension, Jake started feeling bad. He didn't want to feel bad around Rich.

"Remember that time Dustin gave us all strep throat?" Jake wondered suddenly.

Rich glanced up at him with confusion.

"We were passing a bottle in a circle," Jake remembered. "What kind of alcohol was it?"

"Brandy," Rich offered.

"Yeah." A small smile appeared on Jake's face. "I haven't learned shit. I'll still share bottles with anyone. It was awful when we were sick, but it's so funny now, dude. I remember Chloe threatening to beat Dustin up."

Rich gave the slightest laugh. "Why are you- what- why, Jake? Why are you here?"

"Because we're friends," Jake answered like it was the easiest thing ever. "We all got super sick. Everyone else had parents to cook soup for them. We didn't. You didn't want to go home to your father when you felt awful and my house was empty of adults. So, we took care of each other."

Rich looked close to tears. He turned his face down towards his lap again.

"Rich, I'm always on your side," Jake stated. His face was determined.

"You shouldn't be on my side." A tear hit the sheet. "I burnt your house down."

"You feel guilty." Jake moved closer to Rich. "If you wanted to hurt me, you wouldn't feel guilty. Just tell me what happened."

"You wouldn't believe me," Rich sobbed.

Jake knew he wouldn't lie. "You're acting like I'm not the most gullible person you know," He joked. Then seriously said, "I promise I'll believe you."

Rich took a massive inhale and blurted out, "I took a supercomputer, called a SQUIP, the summer before Sophomore year. This entire time it's been controlling everything I do, say, and think. The person you've been friends with wasn't me, it was the SQUIP."

Jake tilted his head like a dog, taking a moment to process.

When Jake stayed quiet a second too long, Rich started rambling, "I knew you wouldn't believe me. God, I'm so stupid. I want to be honest. That was probably too much to start? It's true, I promise it's true."

"Rich," Jake interrupted. "I believe you. I swear I believe you. I just needed a second to- wait. You have a lisp."

Rich blushed. "My SQUIP got rid of it. It's a little scary to talk with it again."

"Scary?" Jake questioned.

"SQUIP's force you to act- and speak- in certain ways," He explained. "At first it tried to train me to speak without it. I couldn't, so it just took over speech entirely. Even if I chose what to say, it was speaking for me. It was rare I said anything without approval."

"That sounds awful." Jake wondered how he never realized.

"It puppets you," Rich explained further. "You become it's puppet. I stopped enjoying it quickly. I blacked out a lot. I'd black out and find out it was controlling me. If I tried to resist, it would shock me."

Rich started to sob. Jake felt terrible, but needed to ask, "How did you get it?"

"I went here Freshman year," Rich cried. "Nobody noticed me. I didn't have a single friend. It felt so impossible to even start conversation. Teachers forgot I was even in their class. With my dad at home and nothing at school, I felt so hopeless. My brother left for college. I didn't know what to do. I went to the mall for new shoes. Mine had completely fallen apart. Some guy sold me one for my shoe money. I got it cheaper than I was meant to. He pitied me."

"I had no idea," Jake admitted reluctantly.

"Nobody did." Rich wiped his eyes. "It was either that or..."

Rich didn't finish his sentence.

"I'm so sorry you went through that," Jake replied honestly. "I really wish I met you back then."

"Can't change the past."

They sat in silence for a moment.

"Headphones kid said you got a SQUIP during the play?" Rich finally brought up.

"Is that what that was?" Jake thought back to the play. "I was honestly really drunk. I knew that wasn't ecstacy."

"Did yours look like anyone?" Rich wondered.

"They can look like things?" Then he recalled what he'd seen. "Oh, it was Air Bud."

Rich laughed. "That's a good one!"

Now Jake had to ask. "Who was yours?"

"Lara Croft," Rich admitted slowly. "She was my first crush."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

Jake looked over Rich again. "Did it make you set the fire?"

Rich slowly shook his head. "I was trying to get it out of my head. I was tired of being a puppet and living a lie. It started telling me to SQUIP other people. It had forced me to give Jeremy one already. I just couldn't stand the idea of anyone else being tortured like I was. It wanted everyone to be under its control. The only way to turn it off is with a discontinued soda I'd never be able to get with the SQUIP in my head."

Rich paused for a moment. "If you get rid of the host, you don't have to deal with the parasite."

Jake took a sharp breath. He was on the verge of tears. "I am so happy you lived and it's still gone."

There was another pause. Rich looked down.

"Yeah," He said. It didn't sound like he meant it.

"Seriously, Rich."

Rich smiled at him.

--

The next time Jake visited Rich, Jeremy had already woken up and left the hospital.

"Hey," He attempted.

"Hey," Rich replied.

There was an awkward air between them that Jake hated.

"How are you?" Jake asked.

"Better, I think," Rich answered honestly. He wasn't in a cast anymore. He was still bandaged head to toe. "I have something to tell you."

Jake stopped his wheelchair at the side of the bed. "Shoot."

"I'm bisexual," Rich nervously admitted.

"Cool."

Rich looked confused. "That's all?"

"I don't care who you're interested in," Jake said honestly.

Rich let out a breath.

The silence was back again until Rich spoke up. "I feel like I always sort of knew. My SQUIP just thought it would make people hate me if I took interest in men. I liked women, so it just wanted to ignore everything else."

Jake frowned.

"It was Lara Croft because it wanted to keep reminding me that I do like women and I didn't need to like men. 'Remember who your first crush was?' I think I was really jealous of Jeremy for a while. I had a crush on Michael that my SQUIP hated. Also, they were losers and still had each other."

"Michael?" Jake questioned. He wasn't good with names.

"The antisocial headphones kid," Rich explained. "I flirted a little bit with him. Shooting my shot, I guess. He wasn't interested. I don't think I'm even interested in him anymore. I think I like someone else."

That piqued Jake's curiosity, but he decided not to ask.

"Sorry I'm dumping all of this on you," Rich apologized. "I haven't been able to say anything for so long that if I don't say something now, I might explode. It's like, dude, I can say whatever I want now. I can be whoever I want. I want to be real."

"I like you like this." Jake gripped his hands together. "I like how you aren't scared anymore."

"Me too."

--

When Rich finally got out of the hospital, Jake decided to spend the day with him.

Jake wasn't really interested in going out in public in his wheelchair. School was hard enough. Rich had his burn scars, which still weren't completely healed, now covering his body.

They decided to just stay in Jake's apartment.

Jake ordered a pizza, which had just arrived.

"I'll get it," Rich announced.

Rich returned moments later with two boxes of pizza (meat lovers for Jake, Hawaiian for Rich). There was also a gallon of root beer and a thing of garlic knots.

Jake wheeled over to the counter where Rich set the boxes down.

"I'll help you transfer to the couch and just bring you some," Rich said.

He nodded as Rich grabbed his wheelchair to push him back to the couch. Then Rich completely froze.

"Dude?" Jake turned his chair around, facing Rich whose hands fell to his side. His eyes were wide. He looked horrified.

"Rich?"

No reply.

"Dude, you're freaking me out," Jake chuckled awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

Rich's breathing became loud and quick. He brought his hands over his ears and slowly sunk to the floor.

Jake was at a complete loss for what to do. "Rich?"

Tears began to stream down Rich's face.

"Jesus Christ, what's wrong!?"

Jake was beginning to panic himself. Not the time.

Rich was hyperventilating in front of him, and he had no idea what to do.

"You're safe!" Jake assured, hoping that would help. What does he say? "It's okay."

Rich looked up at him in utter fear. Jake's heart broke right then and there.

Jake laid his hand on Rich's shoulder, hoping that would ground him. Rich collapsed into Jake's lap.

"I'm sorry," Rich cried.

"Whats wrong?" Jake couldn't help but ask.

"It wasn't even her shocking me," Rich continued to sob. "I shouldn't be freaking out."

Shocking? Oh. Oh no. The static electricity. Jake had been shocked himself many times.

"It's okay," Jake comforted. He tried his best to hug Rich at the awkward angle.

Rich stood, breathing still quick, wiping his eyes. "It's okay. I shouldn't be crying. Let's just eat."

Jake frowned. "It's fine to-"

"Let's just watch a movie." Jake didn't say anything to that. "Please?"

"Okay." Jake accepted defeat. He didn't want to force anything. He wasn't even good at comfort.

"I'll get my own food," Jake said. He didn't wait for Rich to reply before he served himself a couple slices on a paper plate and poured a drink. He put the cup between his legs, plate on his lap. Then wheeled himself over the the couch. He placed the stuff on the coffee table before transferring himself from the chair to the couch.

Rich walked over with his own food and drink.

"You can choose a movie," Jake decided. "You always choose the best."

Rich scratched at the burn on his left hand awkwardly. "My SQUIP chose those."

Jake shrugged. "Then show me what you really like."

--

Rich came over to Jake's house frequently to the point that he spent very few nights with his father.

They both went to school and navigated the differences together.

Rich was scared to push Jake, but always walked beside him and glared at people that wouldn't move. Jake glared when people looked at Rich's scars for too long.

Rich being allowed to be himself brought them a lot closer. That was something Jake was endlessly grateful for.

Every night, they made popcorn and watched a movie or show. Rich had been showing Jake all his favorite shows and movies. They were currently making their way through Ninjago, which was surprisingly dark for a Lego show.

They were on season 4. It was the best yet. Although, Jake made the mistake of comparing it to Squid Game. Rich then went on an angry rant about how Ninjago came first and that every tournament in a show where getting out had grave consequences wasn't Squid Game. Jake had to admit he enjoyed listening to Rich so passionate.

A character he liked was revealed to be the child of the villain. He gasped and turned to look at Rich. Every time something Rich liked happened, he'd look at Jake with this wide smile on his face then pause the show to rant about why he liked the part.

Instead, He saw Rich fast asleep. Jake smiled fondly and turned the TV off. He pulled a blanket over the both of them and leaned against Rich.

Rich had woken up with nightmares a lot lately. Jake hated being alone at night. They both required distractions so they didn't get in their head at night. Falling asleep on the couch probably wasn't the best idea. Maybe he'd have to invest in a TV for one of their bedrooms.

He looked at Rich's sleeping face and noticed how cute he looked. His crooked nose, freckles, tooth gap, light eyelashes.

Jake had been doing that a lot. Admiring Rich. Not just for his looks, but his new self. He was so kind and loving. He was funny in a way that wasn't just making others the butt of his jokes. Before, he could be mean. Even the slightest hint of accidental venom caused Rich to apologize now.

Rich was so beautiful.

Jake wanted to be bothered by that thought. He always considered himself straight. Plus, liking Rich would only make things weird.

Did he like Rich?

He couldn't.

--

Brooke claimed Jake had heart eyes whenever he looked at Rich.

He was past the point of denying it. In the past, Jake would have asked a girl out on way less affection than he held for Rich.

That made it scary.

Jake had never failed to quickly ask a crush out before. He couldn't let this be different.

He wasn't romantic. He didn't buy flowers or take Rich out to a fancy meal. He just wanted to confess.

Rich was airfrying frozen corn dogs when Jake entered the kitchen.

"Rich, can I tell you something?" He asked casually.

Rich shook a bottle of mustard, squeezing some onto his plate. "Mhm."

"I have a crush on you," He confessed. "I might be too old to say crush, actually."

Rich completely froze, nearly dropping the bottle of mustard. He fumbled to catch it.

Jake didn't match his anxious energy. He knew he could be confident.

"If you don't feel the same way, that's okay," He started. "I just thought I should tell you. No hard feelings."

Rich shook his head, opening the fridge to put away the mustard. "Always the best timing," He mumbled.

Then, "I feel the same way, Jake."

Jake smiled. "Cool."

Rich laughed. "So, what were you expecting to happen if I returned your feelings?"

"Sbarro date?" Jake pondered. "Oh, and you being my boyfriend of course."

"Any thoughts for the next couple seconds?" Rich asked again.

Jake moved closer to Rich. "Kissing?"

With Jake in his chair, their heights were a lot more similar than if Jake was standing. Rich easily leaned down to kiss Jake.

The kiss was a quick peck. Rich pulled them apart. Jake admittedly was expecting them to make out. "Can we kiss again?"

Rich laughed. "Yes."

This time, the kiss lasted much longer. Jake knew Rich was experienced, but he didn't kiss that way. It could've been the SQUIP previously. Regardless, Jake loved kissing Rich and was able to lead.

Right as Jake was about to initiate a deeper kiss, the airfryer started to beep quietly.

They broke apart to glance over at the appliance, then began to laugh.

"I should get those," Rich said.

Jake knew that they wouldn't be perfect, no matter how it seemed. He knew they were both fucked beyond repair and they had issues left unmended.

He could forget that for a while.

As Rich kissed him an hour later, his mouth tasted strongly of mustard. Jake wasn't a fan. He could forget that for Rich.

No matter how fucked things were, he could forget them for Rich.

Then, everything seemed perfect and pretty.

Jake felt more at home watching Rich wander their apartment than he had laying in his parents bed.

All he knew was that Rich was someone he would never let go of. Not like Chloe or Christine.

His mouth tasted like mustard, and Jake's head filled with dreams of a future together.