My Toxic Valentine

Jack smiled at the little girl as she crept forward shyly and dropped a handful of change in to his guitar case. The girl's mother smiled sadly at him and Jack couldn't help but feel a little embarrassed. He kept his head down and continued playing.

He was wrapped up in the song when he saw, out of the corner of his eye, someone drop a $20 bill into his case.

Eyes wide- it might not have seemed much, but Jack was used to people just giving him spare change; maybe a $5 bill every now and again- he looked up to see a boy, whom he guess was around his age, walking away.

He was slightly shorter than Jack was, but most people were, and had perfectly straightened hair and was dressed immaculately. He also had a small dog on a leash trotting happily beside him.

Rich kid with a conscience, Jack thought, a wry smile playing at his lips. Whatever his reasoning, Jack was grateful. He could either have another hot meal tonight or buy a train ticket out of here sooner than he expected.

You see, this was what Jack did. He busked until he'd made enough money to move on. This was the easiest way for him to survive because people were only willing to put up with an instrumental busker for so long, and moving city to city ensured a fairly consistent, albeit low, income for him.

It also meant he could avoid the groups of people who had been on the streets for the majority of their lives and considered every inner-city area to be their own personal proving ground.

And Jack had no desire to prove himself.

In fact, as it stood at the moment, he wasn't even sure he had a desire to exist.

But he was… Existing, that is.

And as Jack contemplated his existence he realised he had a choice to make. Did he want to eat a warm meal tonight, buy himself a better blanket or get the next train out of Baltimore?

It wasn’t often that Jack was faced with these kinds of earth-shattering decisions and, to be honest, he was relishing it.

As he contemplated this choice, he began to pack his things up, putting the money he’d earned into his wallet and his guitar back into its case. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and picked up his guitar case, thinking that it was just about time to sit and have some lunch.

Lunch.

Proper meals were generally of no concern to Jack and he usually ignored them completely- eating when and if he could.

However, today he was afforded the luxury of having sandwiches in his backpack. Reminded briefly of being a kid in school, Jack smiled sadly before pushing the thought to the back of his mind.

He’d come to a park and decided that this would be a pleasant place to pass the remainder of his afternoon. There were people passing through at a steady rate, which meant he could possibly even continue to play here.

Sitting down underneath a leafy tree, he was happily situated in the shade, out of the sun he’d been standing in for the majority of the morning.

Unzipping his backpack, he took out the pack of sandwiches he’d saved from the night before and his water bottle. He took the lid off the bottle and downed half of it in one gulp. While he didn’t burn, standing in the sun for so long had dehydrated him and he was starting to get a headache.

As he unwrapped his sandwiches, Jack looked around the park, taking in everything.

There was a mother pushing a pram along the path- the baby was chattering away happily and grabbing for a butterfly that was just out of reach.

A couple was laying underneath a tree doing things that probably weren’t legal in public but Jack figured they thought they were being very inconspicuous about it.

They probably did look completely inconspicuous to most passers by, but Jack had seen it all before. Hell, he’d done it all before.

He turned his head, not really wanting the free show they were providing, and instead focused on his food. He’d decided that the area was safe and comfortable enough for him to stay in, so he bit into one of the triangular halves eagerly, and grinned upon discovering it was peanut butter and jelly; his favourite.

He tried to remember the last time he’d had peanut butter and couldn’t. He suspected it’d been before he left home.

Just thinking the word ‘home’ caused guilt and longing to rush through Jack’s body. He shrugged it off however, as he always did. Home was a long way away. His parents and siblings were miles away and so was the house that Jack grew up in.

Refusing to indulge in fantasies of how different things may have turned out, Jack focused every ounce of concentration on the sandwich he was holding. The bread was a little firmer than it should’ve been but, stale or not, it tasted like heaven to Jack.

Stale sandwiches were better than no sandwiches, he thought happily.

People that Jack had encountered throughout his time on the streets had often commented on how different he was, how he was such a sweet kid and always seemed so upbeat. He shrugged it off. He was alive and he was free. What else did he need?

Sure, food and money helped and sometimes having a roof over his head would be great but to be honest, he had little to complain about. He kept safe, he stayed clean and he had his guitar.

Travelling from state to state, city to city wasn’t so bad, either. Beat being in school anyway, as far as Jack was concerned.

As he sat, munching happily on his PB&J, Jack kept his eyes focused on the ground. Keeping to himself meant keeping out of trouble, so Jack preferred to sit and pretend to be invisible.

His invisibility act was interrupted, however, by a voice that addressed him tentatively.

“Hi?” said a voice with the slightest touch of a British accent mixed with his American drawl. It was almost as though he were asking Jack, rather than greeting him.

Jack looked up, surprised and half-way through a bite, to meet a pair of warm brown eyes.

Trying not to choke on his sandwich, Jack smiled meekly. “Hi.”

The other boy pointed at his guitar case. “I heard you playing earlier.”

Jack stifled a surprised gasp. This was the same boy who’d dropped the 20 into his case.

“You’re really good,” he continued.

With a slight blush Jack mumbled his thanks, focusing his gaze on the little dog who was chewing on some grass, his leash pulled as far as it would allow.

“Can I sit down?” the boy asked, gesturing at the grass next to Jack’s bags.

Jack shrugged. “If you want,” he replied quietly. Making friends was not one of Jack’s priorities at the moment; but he didn’t want to be outright rude.

He felt his stomach flip as the other boy sat and held his hand out.

“I’m Alexander, by the way. But everyone calls me Alex. Alex Gaskarth.”

Jack took his hand, shaking it hesitantly, before pulling it back and bringing his knees to his chest defensively.

“I’m Jack,” he said with a slight smile.

Alex grinned at him. “Nice to meet you.”

Despite how uncomfortable Jack was, he couldn’t help but return Alex’s smile because it was so damn infectious.

Jack had no idea who this boy was or what he wanted, but he did know one thing- he was fucking gorgeous.