A/N: Long story short, ages and ages and ages ago I lost what I'd written of this chapter. Which was about half. My laptop (2 laptops ago, yes it was that long ago) died on me and I lost this chapter. And, believe me, I did every fucking thing I could to get it back but I couldn't. When the hard drive fails, that's it. i even tried taking out the hard drive and putting it into this external hard drive thingy but the hard drive was literally dead. There was nothing I could do.
Anyway, I just didn't have the will to write this chapter over again after that happened. And thus, the abandonment of this story (and all my other stories but we won't get into that) occurred. Then, like a year ago, I decided to reread this story and edit every chapter and by the time I'd done that I wanted to have a go at writing this chapter again, so I did... then I left it again.
Then a few days ago I randomly decided to finish it and post it, and here it is.
Now, this is not the start of me updating and finishing this story. I really wanna say it is but i don't want to make promises I'm unlikely to keep. I just literally wanted to post this chapter because I'd written it and wanted it to be part of the story. It's a short chapter and you might hate me after you read it because I may never update again. But then again, I might. IDK. But I can't make any promises. I'm sorry. :(
If you are still reading and interested in this story, hope you enjoy the chapter and thank you so much.
It's about 12:30 in the afternoon when I wake up, shower and go downstairs.
I hear them all in the kitchen: Mom, Emmett, Garrett…
He's the first to notice me when I enter the kitchen. He stops doing whatever he's doing, meets my eyes. Smiles, just a little.
I start smiling back – until Mom notices me, too.
She's mad at us for drinking Dad's booze and getting wasted last night.
Mad at me.
"You know I'm ok with you drinking a little, in the house. But four bottles, Jasper?" She's almost yelling at me. In front of Emmett and Garrett and him.
Emmett and Garrett look at the floor, awkward.
He looks at me.
"I came home to find three teenage boys practically passed out in my house. Do you know how terrifying that was? I found Garrett, here – who I didn't even know – on the bathroom floor – "
"I'm sorry, Mom –"
"I trusted you to be responsible, Jasper," she says. "And you've broken that trust. So, from now on no one is allowed over if your dad or I aren't here. And I mean no one" – a glance in his direction, then back at me – "am I clear?"
Emmett and Garrett are still looking at the floor.
He's still looking at me.
"Oh, and you can explain to your dad why his liquor cabinet is half empty."
It's hours later and they're gone, and I'm in my room, drawing.
There's a knock on my door.
Dad stands in the doorway, feet apart, his hands in his pockets.
"Your mother told me," he says. "About the booze."
I grimace. "Sorry, Dad."
He shakes his head and flaps a hand, dismissive. "Ah, don't worry about it, Jay. Boys will be boys and all that." He grins. "Besides, someone needed to drink it. It's been in there long enough."
I grin back. "Thanks, Dad."
"So," he says. "How many of y'all were here?"
"Just four of us."
He nods. "Ok. Who?"
The question makes me miss a beat. I'm suddenly aware that Dad's eyes haven't left mine the whole time.
"Um, Emmett, Garrett… Edward."
Still, he holds my eyes, and the rest of his face is stoic, as he asks:
"And who's Edward, again? The Cullen kid?"
"Yeah." My voice comes out hoarse and I have to clear my throat. My heartbeat starts stuttering. "Why?" I ask.
Why Edward? I mean.
Because Dad doesn't know Garrett but he doesn't bother asking who he is.
Dad doesn't answer my question. He nods towards the drawing on my lap. "What's that you're drawing there?"
I'm sketching a pair of eyes. Green, intense eyes under a dark furrowed brow. They stare up at me when I glance down.
I shake my head. Cover the drawing with a hand. "Nothing, really. Just practicing sketching body parts and stuff."
"Alright." Dad takes his hands out of his pockets and reaches for the door knob. "Well, I'll leave you to it."
And I'm stupid because I think I'm safe. I think he's done. I even start breathing normally again –
The door is almost closed when Dad pushes it open again.
"Hey," he says, his tone casual, and he leans against the doorway so I know he's not leaving yet. He frowns. Scratches at his eyebrow with a finger. "I, uh, I heard something a little… disturbing."
"Disturbing," I repeat.
And it's like I'm on a rollercoaster, and it's reached the summit, and I'm waiting for the drop. Those ten agonising seconds I'm waiting for that moment and I'm dreading it because I know my stomach is gonna feel like it's falling out of me when it happens.
Except I'm not on a rollercoaster. Except the summit I'm on is metaphorical. Except the drop I'm waiting for are the next words out of my dad's mouth.
Because, somehow, he knows.
And when he shoves his hands back in his pockets and meets my eyes again, he knows that I know he knows.
"Yeah," he says.
I wait for the drop.
"About that Cullen kid."
I wait for the drop.
"Word around town is that he's" – he scrunches up his nose – "one of those, you know… Homosexuals."
And there it is.
And my stomach feels like it's falling out of me.
I don't say anything. I don't move. I just continue looking at him, right in the eyes, because I don't want him to know I'm afraid of whatever he has to say.
"I feel bad for Carlisle," he continues. "I mean, he's a good man. He doesn't deserve his only son turning out like that..."
"Like what, Dad?"
Dad doesn't answer me. Instead he says:
"Anyway, I don't want you hanging around with him, Jay. You're young, impressionable, and I don't want him influencing you. People talk. They think…"
He doesn't finish.
"They think what, Dad?"
He answers this time, brown eyes burning into mine: "They think you're one, too."
There's ten seconds of silence where all I can feel is my blood coursing through my body, all I can hear is my quick breathing.
"Oh yeah?" My shaky voice belies my defiant words. "And what if I am?"
He ignores my words. Points an index finger in my face as he says:
"I don't want you hanging around that boy, Jay, you hear me?"
"Why, Dad? You scared his homosexual's gonna rub off on me? Well, it's too late –"
"I don't want you hanging around that boy, Jasper," he yells.
"And if I do?"
"If you do, you can find yourself somewhere else to live. I will not allow that shit to go on under my roof, you hear me?"
Dad finally turns away. He slams my bedroom door shut. I hear his heavy footsteps fading down the stairs.
"Are you at home?"
"Nah, I'm at Em's. What's up?"
"Nothing. I just… I wanted to come over but if you're not home it's –"
"Come over," he says. "Gimme ten minutes."
He's home in seven.
I know because I'm there when Emmett's car pulls up and he jumps out and runs through the rain to the front porch. I know because I'm standing on their driveway, getting soaked, waiting for him.
I know because I was already outside his house when I called him.
He starts when I touch his shoulder.
I tell myself it's only raindrops dripping from my eyelashes as I meet his gaze.
"The fuck are you doing standing out in the rain?" He glances behind me at the driveway. "Where's your car?"
I shrug but I'm shivering too hard for him to see it.
"Shit," he mutters. He stares at me for a moment. Frowns. "What's wrong?"
My teeth are chattering hard. Maybe it's why I can only answer:
Or maybe it's because I can't bring myself to say anything more.
But I don't need to say anything more because he nods, understanding apparent in the way his frown deepens.
He sighs. "Come here," he says.
He holds out a hand to me and I'm too stunned to do anything but look at it.
So he grabs me by the hand and he pulls me further into the porch, out of the rain.
He unlocks the door and we walk into the house, he in front, still holding my hand. Our wet sneakers squeak on the wood floor. I leave a trail of water behind us.
When we're in his bedroom he stands before me and just looks at me for a minute.
"Wait here a sec," he says. Then he leaves.
He's back a few minutes later with a towel and some clothes in his arms. He dumps the clothes and towel on the bed and stands before me again.
"Take off your clothes." When he realises how this sounds he quickly adds: "They're soaked."
I reach for the button on my fly but my hands are trembling so much I can't even grab my jeans.
"Lemme do it." He steps forward and reaches for my fly. He fumbles with it for a bit, getting on his knees, his face at my crotch.
If I wasn't freezing cold it would have turned me on.
"Jesus Christ, Jasper," he says. "What the hell were you doing standing out in the rain?"
He finally gets my fly undone and zipped down and begins tugging my jeans down my thighs. They're so heavy they fall down around my ankles without much effort. I step out of them.
He stands again and starts lifting up my hoody.
"Lift your arms."
I do what he says.
He pulls the hoody off over my head and tosses it on the floor on top of my jeans.
I raise my arms again when he starts lifting my t shirt. It lands on the floor with the rest of my clothes.
His fingers are cold when they touch my hips, at the waistband of my boxers.
When I flinch he takes a step back.
"You wanna take them off yourself?"
He looks at me in the eye, unblinking. In the silence I realise my teeth have stopped chattering. In the silence I can hear his quick breathing.
I shake my head.
His green eyes hold mine as he steps forward and reaches for my boxers again. This time when I feel his cold fingers at my hips I don't flinch. But my own breaths get quicker.
He glances down at me, at my body, as he pulls down my boxers. Then back up to my eyes.
We stare at each other for five seconds.
If I wasn't freezing cold it would have turned me on.
When I step out of my boxers and I'm standing fully naked in front of him he picks up the towel and hands it to me.
His eyes are now everywhere but on me. He swallows. "Dry off. I'll be back in a sec."
I dry off with the towel and then put on the clothes he brought for me. They're all his. Black Calvin Klein boxers. Black socks. Navy sweatpants. Black long sleeve t shirt. The clothes smell freshly washed and they're lukewarm, probably straight from the dryer.
He's not back for about fifteen minutes.
When he's back he has a mug with him. He puts it on his nightstand. "Made you some hot chocolate".
"Thanks." I pick up the mug and take a sip. Burn my tongue. "Shit."
I catch his smirk before he turns away. Picks up my wet clothes. "I'm gonna put these in the laundry room."
I get in his bed under the covers when he's out of the room. Inhale his sheets, just a little.
When he gets back he sits on the bed on top of the covers, back against the wall, and just looks at me.
"Nothing. Drink." A nod at the mug in my hand.
"Cause you need to drink it."
"What, have you poisoned it, or something?"
He sighs. "Cause you'll probably get hypothermia or some shit if you don't. The fuck were you doing standing in the rain, Jasper?"
"You keep asking me that."
"Yeah, cause you're not fucking answering."
"I was waiting for you."
"You have a car to wait in."
"I didn't drive here. I walked."
"Didn't want my dad to know I'd gone out."
I shrug, looking down into the mug. "I just... I wasn't thinking, I guess."
We sit in silence as I continue sipping the hot chocolate.
Eventually, he breaks it.
"So," he says. "Your dad."
I nod. "My dad."
"He knows." It's not a question.
I nod again.
I shrug. "Town gossip? I dunno."
He sighs. Leans his head back against the wall. Runs a hand through his hair a few times.
"So… I assume he's not… down with it."
I snort and nearly choke on the hot chocolate. "Something like that."
"What'd he say?"
"That I'm not allowed to see you."
He doesn't say anything.
"He basically said he'd kick me out if I carried on seeing you."
He doesn't say anything.
His hand is in his hair again. He frowns. "What do you want me to say, Jasper?"
I don't say anything.
"Does your mom know he knows?" he asks.
"I don't know."
"So… what are you gonna do?"
He looks at me. "Are you still gonna see me?"
His face is an unreadable mask, as always, and if I didn't know him well I wouldn't notice the way his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows - nervous. I wouldn't notice that the hand in his hair is now a fist.
I smirk because the question is funny to me. Are you still gonna see me?
"Edward, after Dad told me I'm not allowed to see you, you know what was the first thing I did?"
I put the mug down on the nightstand and move closer to him on the bed. Take his hand out of his hair and hold on to it. Look at him in his green eyes.
"Came to see you."
"What if he kicks you out?"
"He won't," I say. "He can't. My mom wouldn't let him."
And I'm surprised at how confident I sound as I say this.
So confident I almost believe myself.