I'm Not Asking for Painted Memories

Always the lonely days for Jack.

As an unemployed 21 year-old man choosing not to go to college (even though it wasn't much of a choice, reviewing his transcript), there weren't many activities he could engage in. He wasn't very much of a looker in high school, so he never made many friends, or even acquaintances. Even if he were to make any friends, they'd all have social lives and relationships. Jack couldn't get a relationship - the girls in his school were interested in the tough guys with buzz-cuts, whose biceps were bigger than their heads, and dicks were the size of their ring fingers. All of the guys were interested in the girls. He'd started getting desperate, but it didn't matter if he was desperate. It would have to be the girls getting desperate, and the guys getting bi-curious. And of course, they'd have to be intoxicated. However, to be intoxicated, they would have to go to a party, and guess who doesn't go to parties?

Along with being deemed unattractive by the media's idea, he was socially inept. He figured since he was no sculpted beauty, there would be no other person who would desire to be anywhere near him. Except Kyle. Kyle was just like him - awkward, tall, lanky, unattractive to all of the stuck-up high school ladies. Of course, Jack thought Kyle was much more appealing than him. Kyle was also more energetic, social, likeable. Safe to say Kyle had more luck with friends. Kyle was more confident. Kyle was just better.

The same Kyle was killed in a car crash two years prior.

It wasn't Kyle's fault. His passenger, Alex, wasn't to blame either. There was a semi driving the opposite direction on the narrow road, and it was dark. He could only see the headlights, but it was enough to know it wasn't just a small car he could avoid. His only options were to swerve out of the road or face the semi head-on. Of course he wouldn't take the latter option; that would be foolish. But as he swerved off the road, he hit just the wrong spot, causing the car to flip into a ditch he hadn't previously seen in the pitch-black night. Both of the boys, only 19 years old each, were killed the moment the hood of the car hit the ground, smashing their skulls. The shattered windshield hit them with a barrage of glass, gouging their eyes, faces, chest.

Shuddering and sighing, Jack shook the memory away. He accepted the empty feeling in his heart, how it always was, and dropped down to his mattress. It was worn and broken; springs twisted through the rough textured fabric into his pale, bony back. He didn't utter a word of complaint though - he was fortunate to have a mattress at least, given his current living situation. He didn't even pay for his own place. It was a shanty his father used to go to as a child, and even though he lived a state over now, he wanted to own this piece of his childhood. But apparently he couldn't spot Jack too much money; no, he basically gave Jack an allowance. It was a simple bill every week, but it was enough to feed and clothe him for every few months, and even give him some luxuries. His father paid the utilities, but Jack bought the proper equipment. It would be fair if Jack actually had a job.

A frustrated grunt vibrated in his throat as he attempted to maneuver his body into a comfortable position around the vicious metal coils, to no prevail. Old memories of him and his companion resurfaced, and he pushed them to the back of his skull, choosing to pass on tears tonight. He shut his eyes, willing himself to sleep; forcing his overactive mind to shut down. Eventually, he slipped off to a nightmarish sleep.

March 13, 2010

The game store was relatively empty, thankfully.

Jack was obviously not one for crowds or a loud rendezvous. He'd much rather sit home playing his video games. Which explains his presence in the game store every few months.

Avoiding any contact - which includes even shaking his head at any employee offering to help in finding what he was searching for - he snaked his way through the aisles. He knew where the games he wanted were located, but weaving around saved him from seeing a single person, and for that, he was grateful.

As he entered the aisle filled with board games, he noticed one had been knocked off the shelf and was laying on the side of the aisle, as if someone kicked it over. He hesitantly stepped into the aisle, as if the game were some kind of charm that would bring people running to his aid. Of course he was incorrect, but he was still never a bold person. Just putting a board on a shelf would make him nervous that someone would think he was stealing it.

When he reached the board, he inspected it. It was a flat wooden board, wrapped in clear plastic. There were no instructions, but there was a small plastic triangle, which he assumed was the playing piece. But upon further observation, he found there was really no game to be played. On the board was the alphabet, numbers one through ten, and the words "yes", "no", and "goodbye" printed large over the expanse of the board. What were these called? Ouija boards.

Just then, an employee entered the aisle, not speaking but startling Jack all the same. He picked up the board and - in a spur of the moment decision - carried it out of the aisle. What he would do with a Ouija board, he hadn't an idea, but he brought it up to the cashier nonetheless. She greeted him and grinned bashfully, blushing a bright shade of red. The smile faltered though once she laid eyes on Jack's potential purchase, but she rung it up anyway, throwing it into a bag as if it were burning her fingers. She asked for the payment and Jack handed it to her in exact, nodding once when she bid him a nice day.

He had no clue what he was going to do with the newly purchased item; he didn't even know how to use it. But what he did know is that he probably just wasted nearly a month's allowance on something he'd never use.

March 16, 2010

Three days Jack had been searching information on the Ouija board.

He was almost positive now that he knew how to use it. People suggest more that you use them in groups, preferably of three, but Jack didn't even know one person to explore this with. So the group wasn't an option. And even if he did know people to use it with, what would he use it for? Talk to The Rev? He couldn't even talk to The Rev if he was alive.

Jack thought for a few minutes before realizing how he could use use the board. He could talk to Kyle. He could finally have contact with Kyle again, after two years of not speaking a single word.

He stood from his spot on his bed, cracking his spine and heading into the kitchen. The board sat on the table, untouched since it had been brought home and carelessly tossed into the room. He was lucky it landed on the table; he was really too lazy to bend down and pick it up now. Unwrapping it, he plucked the piece - which was called a "little plank", or planchette - from the table and held it in his hand tightly. Most people advised him to do this outside so no spirits had a chance to get attached to the house, but if he found Kyle, he didn't care whether or not the spirit was attached. He wanted Kyle back.

With trembling hands, he placed the planchette on the letter A, holding his index finger on it lightly. Instead of being a moron and asking for Kyle, he asked a simple question.

"Is anyone there?" he asked, almost shocked by the sound of his own voice. It was so...deep and mature. But he focused more on the planchette. It didn't move a centimeter.

"Hello?" he hummed again, hoping madly that Kyle would respond. But there was nothing. No movement. No sense of anything being near.

Feeling let down, Jack murmured, "Goodbye," and swiped the planchette off the board. He slipped it into the bottom of his pocket then backed away from the tabled, mood deflated. As he laid on his bed, he wondered why Kyle didn't make an appearance, or if Kyle even remembered him.

March 17, 2010

Jack was going to try to reach Kyle again today. He wouldn't give up so easily. He needed to talk to Kyle again, even if it was just a simple hello.

He followed the same procedures as yesterday - sitting in front of the board, shakily setting the planchette on the A, holding his finger gently on the heart-shaped plastic. The same question was the only one that made sense to him.

"Is anyone there?" he inquired, focusing on the planchette. The room was only softly lit by the windows letting in morning light, all of the appliances off to make sure his signal was clear. The piece stayed in place for endless seconds, then slowly inched to the Yes.

Jack was nearly speechless. He was perplexed. He just spoke to a spirit. Regaining his composure, he cleared his throat.

"What's your name?"

The planchette was slightly quicker to move this time. Jack watched, dumbfounded. The small piece spelled out a name that he was instantly familiar with, but confused him yet. He wrote it down on a pad near him for future reference, just to know who was in the house with him, then directed his attention back to the board.

"Why are you here?" he questioned the spirit, not wanting to say its name in case there were others in the house.

This time the planchette stayed still. Jack momentarily thought the spirit had left. Maybe it didn't like the question. He know he had to be careful with inquiries. But after a timed two minutes, the planchette moved over the letters to spell I'm watching.

A twinge of anxiety poked in Jack's gut. He made sure to keep his voice monotone as he asked, "Are you good or evil?"

At this question, he felt a presence beside him, and the temperature fluctuated subtly. It sent a shiver down his spine and caused the hairs on the nape of his neck to stand up, but he waited patiently for his answer. He was relieved when the spirit spelled out Good.

There was a feeling of fingers trailing up Jack's spine, traveling between his shoulder blades and circling around to descend back down his spine. It frightened him to no end. He quickly mumbled a goodbye and snatched the planchette off of the board, burying it in his pocket. The feeling of any presence around him dissipated and he let out a shaky sigh.

Slowly, he scooted his chair back and stood. Paranoia lingered in his system as he turned on his heels and left the room, opting to go lay down and recover from this experience.

March 19, 2010

Jack was sat at his kitchen table, contemplating whether or not to speak to the spirit he had encountered the other day. He wasn't sure if there were any others yet; ones that would trick him into feeling comfortable and revealing things.

Paranoia had abounded since the first successful use of the Ouija board antonte. He didn't touch it the day before, for reasons unknown to himself. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was due to the fact he knew who he was talking to, and that depressed him to think of. But he felt like it was rude to just stop talking to the spirit like that, which brought him back to the board which had given him access to the next world.

Fishing the planchette from his pocket, he yanked the chain hanging from the kitchen ceiling to turn the light off, then placed himself in his seat. Almost immediately, he felt his hairs stand alert. But at this time, he ignored it, curious as to what the spirit would say today.

He gingerly set the planchette on the board, one finger lingering on top of the smooth plastic. Taking a deep breath, he concentrated on the words in his mind and asked, "Are you there?"

The planchette only lagged for a moment before gliding over the letters, spelling Good morning. It's me.

Jack thought momentarily before nodding once. He didn't think he could get used to the initial shock that came with the spirit contacting him that first time. There was always excitement that he was in contact with someone from the other world; fear he'd slip up and let a demon in or anger any other spirit somehow; sorrow that the spirit hadn't gotten the chance to live life's full term.

Shaken out of his thoughts by a chill crawling up his spine, Jack asked, "Can you prove it's you? Give me your name."

The correct name was spelled out on the board, pulling out a sigh of relief from Jack's lungs. Then another message was translated across the board, saying this was the only spirit in this house. Another relieved sigh.

But then he realized, that meant Kyle wasn't there.

"Where's Kyle?" Jack asked, voice sounding pathetic and whiny. He didn't care. He just wanted Kyle, no matter what it would take.

The planchette darted across the board. He's moved on.

Jack could almost feel his eyes brimming with tears. "What do you mean? Can I talk to him? Please."

He felt idiotic for begging to a board, but he would continue until he'd gotten an answer that pleased him. The feeling of an arm wrapping around him was brought around his thin shoulders, which would naturally frighten him, but knowing who this spirit was gave him a sense of comfort, whether or not he was well acquainted with the person before they left. In this case he wasn't, but it relieved him of some of the hurt.

Swiftly, the planchette danced over the letters, spelling He's in a better place. His life was fulfilled before he passed on.

"Fulfilled?" Jack mumbled, tensing up. "So...when he died, his life was fine without me dying with him? I was just here to keep him company or something? He couldn't wait for me?" A small spark of anger flickered in Jack's gut, but it was overwhelmed with sadness that he wasn't important enough to Kyle for him to wait. He could definitely feel the stinging of tears forming in his eyes now. It began to blur his vision, but he wiped his face with his free hand and blinked rapidly. The feeling of the arm tightened.

No, the spirit started, guiding Jack's hand over the letters. Kyle loved you. Just not like I do.

"What?" he questioned, cocking his head at the spirit's declaration. 'Not like I do'?

But the spirit halted its replies, instead guiding the planchette to Goodbye. The invisible arm around him uncoiled, and the feeling of a presence left. It was disappointing that he hadn't gotten an answer to the last question, and it annoyed him that he didn't fully know what had happened to Kyle. However, Jack knew that if a person had died in a traumatic accident, their spirit would stay on Earth for the rest of time, or if they had unfinished business, they would stay until the task they needed was performed, then they would pass to the next world.

March 20, 2010

"Are you there?" Jack asked into the room after a night of fitful sleep. He wanted answers, and he was damn well getting the answers he sought. If the spirit avoided the questions this time, so be it. He would ask constantly.

A silent several seconds passed before the planchette was moved to Yes.

The presence he'd become familiar with swallowed him, raising every hair on his body and causing him to shiver. "Can you answer my question from yesterday?" Jack inquired, ignoring the sense of fingertips over the skin of his back. They always seemed to pierce right through the fabric of his shirt and straight onto his bare back.

Repeat the question, came the spirit's reply. Jack knew the spirit recalled the question, but asked again anyway.

"What did you mean by, 'not like I do'?" If Jack wasn't mistaken, he could've sworn he heard the sound of a person clearing their throat in the distance, somewhere within the house's four rooms. At the same time it sounded like it was directly near his ear. But it was so soft, he couldn't have been sure.

The planchette glided over the board, spelling out It should be obvious as I put it.

Jack furrowed his brow and frowned. "No, tell me," he ordered, starting to get frustrated. He really didn't know what the spirit meant. Were they in love with him? Did they love him like a brother? Did they love him like their own child? He just wanted the answer. He knew the person, but he didn't know a thing about them. So how would he know how they loved him?

Quickly though, the feeling of the spirit's physical contact left Jack, but he could still feel the presence in the room. It shocked Jack when the answer came, stated clearly in front of his face.

My name is Alex Gaskarth and I am in love with you, Jack Barakat.

Jack had no proper response to this. He simply bid Alex farewell and stood, leaving the room to go to his own bedroom. As he laid down, he felt the presence follow him into the room. And if he wasn't mistaken, he was sure he could hear a soft apology echo through the room.

March 22, 2010

Jack refrained from talking to Alex for the day before. He had to have at least the one day to sort out his thoughts.

Alex was only a distant friend of Jack's. He was much closer to Kyle, which was why he was in the car with him on the day they died. They had been out on a late dinner run. Alex and Jack had only met several times - all but one of the times only briefly and with Kyle. The one time they were left alone was when Kyle was called back home for half an hour and he left the brunette with Jack. They hadn't spoken to each other for the first fifteen minutes, but eventually Alex had broken the deafening silence. But Jack could feel the older boy's eyes boring into his skull the entire time. Maybe that was a look of admiration, he thought. He never really analyzed the situation. He never thought back on it, due to the level of awkwardness it had been at. But what really was there to admire about Jack? He was just...Jack. He was too skinny for his height; his nose was too big for his face; his eyes were bug-like; he was just the living, breathing embodiment of wrong proportions, awkward being, incorrect formation, flaws, unintelligent design.

Shaking his head, Jack stopped thinking so lowly of himself before he started loathing himself. At least more than he already did. He decided he had to apologize to Alex. It was just quite a surprising confession. Someone he'd never had the time to really warm up to had been in love with him, and he never got the chance to be with the admired. On top of this, Alex wasn't alive. He was killed two years ago. Is this how long he's been haunting Jack? It's likely. It's quite the bite out of one's sanity when a spirit whose human life had been taken away years ago professes their love to someone still of life.

Jack decided he would speak to Alex today. He would learn more about the deceased man's life when it had been active. He rose from his worn mattress and ventured on into his kitchen, taking a seat in the same chair he had every other time. Mostly because there were only two chairs in the kitchen and the board was closer to this one. But that's besides the matter at hand.

Taking shaky breaths, Jack scooped the planchette out of his pocket and set it atop the board. Instantly, he felt the presence of Alex in the room. It still made him uncomfortable to know there was something he couldn't see in the room with him, but it made it somewhat less frightening to know that it was something innocent.

"Is it you?" Even if Alex had told him once that he was the only spirit in the house, he would never let his guard down so easily as to give away the name to a different spirit.

As always, the correct name was spelled on the board, the addition of the last name locking in that yes, this was Alex.

"Right, well," Jack started, halting to clear his throat as he felt the fingers on his back like always. Alex was one for physical contact, definitely. It was like he needed it to stay attached. "I'm sorry, but...you're dead."

I know, responded Alex through the board, but I loved you when I was alive.

Jack kind of figured that much. But he only bit his lip and mentioned nothing of it. "Why do you think you love me?"

The feeling of fingers on his back stopped and retracted as the planchette moved slowly.

Cliche but I don't think, I know. Then the fingers returned, but instead they caressed Jack's cheek, leaving goosebumps where they traced a simple pattern. It was difficult for Jack not to move his face, but he managed to keep his head steady as he read the next line Alex spelled out.

I could say there are a lot of reasons I love you, but I'd be a liar. I hardly know anything of you. There's just that feeling in your heart, you know? When you meet someone and you just know there's something there. I felt that with you the first time we met, three years ago on your eighteenth birthday.

It was graveling how Alex could remember the exact day they met. Jack had long forgotten it. Everything about the day was long lost. But maybe Alex could remind him of it.

"Okay," Jack hummed, crossing his legs. "I'd like you to tell me exactly how that whole day was to you. Everything from your perspective. I have the time to listen if you have the time to tell."

March 27, 2010

Jack and Alex had spoken practically non-stop for the last four days.

Jack would ask Alex - who he learned would be older than him should he have lived to this day - about what he thought when they would speak for the brief bits of time they did; he would ask Alex what he thought of him when they weren't together; if he ever talked about him to Kyle; what he and Kyle were like together; why he neglected to tell him the way he felt.

In all honesty, Jack was attached to the would-be older man. He wanted to be closer to him. But there was no possible way to do that. At least, no way that Jack could think of on this day.

It was comforting to know that there was someone who actually cared about him. Whether or not this person be a spirit dwelling in the house, he was there for Jack. He couldn't physically fend off any trouble, but Jack was never in true danger. The area was nice and secure. But Jack had many emotional downs. He wasn't quite the fan of himself, which had a negative effect on Alex, who would just give him the one small compliment that plants itself into his brain and grows like wildflowers.

At night, Jack would lay down to sleep, and before he'd drift off, he'd feel that little pressure on his face that was a goodnight from Alex. He could never tell if it was a hand or lips, but it was never a question that he dwelt on very long.

It was still extremely odd to be in such major interaction with a spirit, and more odd to just be so nonchalant about it, but Jack had gotten used to the fact that the one who had found love in him wasn't living. And maybe he could learn to return the feeling.

April 8, 2010

With every problem, there is a solution. For simple problems, the solution is complex and dangerous. For complex problems, the solution is simple and harmless. When the problem is a stone wall, the best solution is a simple, harmless shove. But when the problem is a thin barrier, the solution is a raging, destructive fire. This, however, is a problem that borders between thin and stone.

"Alex, the only way to get to you is to die," Jack explained as if it were the most difficult thing to figure out. This had been on Jack's mind for hours now, and he needed to know what to do. He was very close to taking his own way: a noose, a bullet, over-dosage. Anything that would get him to the man he'd learned to feel affection towards.

But the planchette quickly shot No. Please do not do it.

It frustrated Jack how Alex rejected him like this. "You love me, right?" Of course the answer came quickly as Yes. "So why don't you want to be with me?"

Because, Alex wrote. You're 21. You have a life to live. You have dreams. I can't let you give up.

"But maybe..." Jack grunted in frustration, the first tear rolling down his cheek and onto the board. "Maybe you're one of my dreams, Alex. I don't understand why you're telling me to go after my dreams and stopping me from going after my biggest one. Maybe I don't like living in a world where I fucking hate everything and everyone, and I want to feel perfect with you."

April 19, 2010

It was time to live the first dream. Jack wanted to do something simple yet exciting. He was always a reclusive person, but that never stopped him from wanting to perform on stage in front of hundreds of people.

A nationally famous band was having a gig nearby, and by Twitter, Jack had gotten in contact with the singer-guitarist. They'd made an agreement to have the singer-guitarist only sing in the songs that Jack was familiar with and learned how to play on his own guitar when he was in high school.

On the date of the gig, Jack was reluctant to leave his home, in fear that he'd be too afraid to be out in public, in front of hundreds of people playing an instrument he hadn't played since he was a teenage boy. But it was too late to back out now. He'd made a commitment - he had to go through with it now. And at the last minute, a gentle squeeze of his shoulder told him Alex was there for him one-hundred percent.

Jack stood backstage, trembling vigorously as he awaited his time to go out on stage and take the guitar from the singer-guitarist, who he'd only now remembered was named William. The rather effeminate man gave him words of encouragement, thinking that Jack was shaking in fear. There was no fear evident once he saw the crowd; it was pure excitement that he was really living this dream.

"Alright, kids," the feminine William started, earning screams from the crowd. No matter what he said, the crowd would scream. Jack wished he could be the one they'd scream for. "We have a special guest joining us on stage today for our acoustics. Jack, come on out here, buddy!"

Jack grinned and his tremors stopped. He jogged out on stage, acoustic guitar in hand, and listened to the crowd scream at the top of their lungs. They had no clue who Jack was, but they screamed their hearts out anyway. They were supportive, the teenagers now; they didn't care who would be on stage, they would cheer them on like their biggest fucking fans because this person is living in a real life fantasy.

As Jack readied his plectrum and adjusted his in-ear monitor, he glanced at William, who was beaming at him like a proud father. He smirked back, nodding his ready, and William looked to the crowd. His words became liquid, splashing into Jack's ears and evaporating as the first chord was struck. This was everything Jack wanted. The crowd, the stage, all of the voices singing in unison with the singer, whose voice flowed strongly over the sea of people. The singer would cut off his own voice, letting the crowd take control for just a moment. He would give the crowd freedom; he would trust the crowd to take over the song for just that second, turning the crowd into just one body, one voice. In that moment, there would be no wrong; there would be no fighting. Everyone would be united, indivisible. In that moment, everyone would be one.

The song finished, and the crowd went wild. For a simple acoustic, the crowd sure was crazy. Jack took a look around into the faces of every single person in the audience. Some were crazed, wild, rabid. Some were unimpressed, bored. But there were the others who had tears streaming down their faces, putting their entire heart into the music. It was, Jack decided, the most amazing moment he had ever lived in, to be a part of that effect to so many people. Hundreds of them? Likely.

William spoke up again now. "Jack Barakat, everybody!" Grinning like a child in a candy shop, Jack slipped the guitar strap over his head, gripping onto the neck and holding it to his side. The crowd screamed, some in the front row grabbing at William's legs as he grabbed onto Jack's hand and pulled him into a hug. When William walked away, though, they were still reaching out. They wanted to touch Jack, not William. He gladly complied, squatting down at the front of the stage and high-fiving every person he could reach with the time he had. Before he walked off stage, he turned his head back to William and mouthed a thank you.

June 24, 2010

This was it. This was the day. Jack had lived out several of his dreams now. This was the last one he wanted to live out before he could be with Alex.

Jack had taken a taxi out to a bridge where he could finally finish his list out. There, an instructor taught him about safety, precautions, how to go about the activity. He was hooked in and strapped up to a high bridge, the woman who had hooked him in checking every little safety precaution before Jack would take the leap. It was hard for Jack not to be nervous as he thought of what he was going to do. And it was sick; it was a disgusting way to finish out his dreams and it may cost innocent people their jobs, but Jack couldn't bring himself to care. He was going to finally be with Alex, who he'd fallen in love with in such a short time period. The memory of Alex, of his physical attributes, and actually speaking to Alex now, with his beautiful personality, even translated through a wooden board and plastic triangle. He was perfect. Jack wanted to be in the presence of perfection.

"Are you ready, sir?" the woman asked, tugging onto the straps once more for good measure.

Jack bit his lip and nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I'm ready to go."

And he went.

He tipped backwards from atop the bridge and quickly pulled apart all of the hooks on his safety harness, managing to slip the whole thing off and over his legs in record time, and letting himself free-fall. He heard shrieks from the bridge, terror consuming every person around. The instructor was screaming words that Jack couldn't make out as he fell the last hundred-and-ten feet to the concrete below.

The worst part of falling is knowing you're going to hit the ground. Your body is falling free through the air and you can't do anything to stop it. There's no more safety. You're just a part of the wind. You're a giant lump of matter dropping at a 90 degree angle through the air. There's no stopping you. You're gone. You can feel the ground getting closer. And closer. And closer. And closer. Until-

Date and Time Unknown

Jack doesn't know where he is. He doesn't know what he's doing, he doesn't know what time it is. He does know, however, that he just fell over two-hundred feet onto solid concrete.

He's dead. He has to be dead. There's no possible way that he lived through that. It's impossible. He's definitely dead.

"Jack?" a weak voice whispers, and it sounds pathetic. It sounds like the possessor of the voice has been crying for days, and they completely wrecked their vocal chords.

However, Jack responds, not bothering to open his eyes. "Yes?" He notices now that his body doesn't hurt. He attempts to move his fingers, toes, arms, legs. They all respond normally. There's no damage done at all?

Now a hand comes to Jack's cheek, a soft, tentative touch, and it's...familiar. "Jack, open your eyes."

He follows the command of the stranger. His eyes flutter open, and the first thing he sees is a pair of coffee brown eyes staring back into his. They're red and raw, and they're the second sign that this person has been crying.

The stranger gathers him into a warm embrace, and Jack lets them, not sure what to do at this point. He looks over their shoulder, seeing just a lush field of green. In the distance, there's a large oak tree that's very tempting to go sit under. He blinks, and the tree is gone, replaced by a fountain of stone. What's going on?

"Jack," the stranger sobs, and Jack averts his attention to them. "Jack, it's me."

And now Jack understands. He's in the next world. This is Alex. This is what Alex looks like now. Jack's eyes have changed, and Alex looks different to him, but he's really still the same 19 year-old Alex. And he's absolutely stunning. Breathtaking might have been the word before, but the lack of lungs eliminated it.

Jack smiles, which rapidly grows into a grin, and he pulls Alex back into the embrace they had shared moments ago. "Alex, I died," he whispers, as if Alex had no idea. He was more trying to convince himself.

The would-be older boy chuckles, pulling away and resting his forehead against Jack's. "I know. I was there."

Jack smirks and backs up, only now realizing that he's sitting down. He pushes himself up from the bench he's sitting on and spins around in circles, watching the scenery change every time he'd blink his eyes. It was everything he wanted. It was everywhere he wished he could be.

"This is where you go when you die," Alex explained. "You go to wherever you want to be."

Jack nodded, then turned back to Alex after the scenery became the field again. "Why aren't you in your own place?"

Alex smiled shyly, looking to his feet. "When you're in love, they let you go wherever that person is. That's why I was always on Earth with you."

A smirk crept onto Jack's lips, twisting his lips up at the corners. He surged forward and rested his forehead against the brunette's, holding onto his wrists. No more words were necessary, but the obvious ones were exchanged anyway.

"I love you," murmured Alex as he cupped Jack's face with his hands.

Jack grinned and pecked the would-be older boy's lips, mumbling a soft, "I love you too."

At that point, Jack's world became clear. There was nothing else he wanted the world to be than Alex. And Alex wasn't objective; he only needed to focus on Jack.

Date and Time Unknown

The worst part of falling is knowing you're going to hit the ground.

Your body is falling free through the air. But sometimes, there's that one thing that catches you. There's a safety net. You land safely in the ropes, and it twists around your body, holding you in a cocoon, keeping you safe from dropping to the ground. You can't escape the safety net.

But tell me, do you want to escape the safety net?