The Devil On Your Shoulder

I remember the look on Jack's face when I told him the doctors has managed to get the whole tumor. That he was cured. That he didn't have to worry anymore. For now, anyway. The doctors said there was a chance that the tumor could grow again, but that Jack wouldn't have to worry about that for now. He looked so fucking happy. I'd never seen someone's eyes shine up like his did. I was pretty sure, not even me or his mom, that ever seen him that happy. I swear if he wasn't still connected to tubes and machines he'd have jumped up and down and hugged everyone in that hospital. Sometimes I dreamt about the look of happiness and the amount of love he had for everyone in that next few days.

Jack was packing his bags, ready to be discharged, when a bunch of our school friends came over to say 'congratulations'. Even though Jack hadn't had much friends in school, a lot of people cared about him. A lot of people he didn't even know cared about him. Oli and Josh turned up, much to Jack's horror. Even though Jack had been right all along, Oli wasn't that bad. He was great when you torn down the name calling, bulliness of his outsides. And as for Josh, well he was only a dick because Oli told him to be one. It wasn't really Josh's fault his best friend could be an asshole. Justin Hills and Jack Fowler, two unseperable best friends at our school showed up along with people like Alan Ashby and Matty Mullins, the two gingers. Even Tay Jardine and Zack Merrick from the reform school showed up, again, much to Jack's horror. I assumed it was Rian and Taylor York that had dragged them along. Despite a few people Jack didn't really want to see, he welcomed them all with open arms, practically jumping on them all with happiness. They laughed and patted him on the back, telling him he was stronger than they'd ever be. He laughed and shook his head, but didn't deny being strong once.

Jack's aunts, uncles and grandparents showed up later as well, joining the congratulations party. Not much happened, people just sat around Jack listening to him or catching up with school friends or family. I didn't talk much, I just sat back and watched Jack in his element. I prefered watching and not talking as I really did want the spotlight to be Jack.

Until 3 words came out of Jack's mouth that me and his mom had been dreading.

"Where's my dad?" He asked the room, and everything went silent. He frowned a little everyone bit their lips and looked up at him with pure freaking pity. I hated that look, the look of pity.

Me and Joyce exchanged a glance which told her that I, Alex Gaskarth, would again bring the bad news to Jack. Joyce moved everyone out of the room to give me and Jack the room to ourselves.

"I think you should sit down for this." I said quietly, looking at the floor.

Instead of sitting down like I assumed he would, Jack pushed me to the ground, yelling, "Tell me where my dad is! What's wrong with my dad! Alex!"

I knew I should have been sympathetic. He was in the dark, he didn't know a thing. I knew I should have been calm, collected and pretended he hadn't pushed me over. But, I wasn't that kinda guy.

"Fuck Jack! Do you think this is easy for me? I'm trying to find the fucking words to tell you what's wrong with your dad! Don't push me, I've done nothing wrong!" I screamed, pulling myself up and glaring at him. He frowned, backing up into a chair and sitting down uncomfortably.

"He...your dad....Jack," I began, but words escaped me. I couldn't find the right way to tell him. I thought about the fact that after I told him this, the days of him being bouncy and happy were long gone. I bit my lips for a few seconds until I decided there wasn't gonna be an easy way out of this. "Your dad, he had a heart-attack, Jack." I told him, my eyes filling up with tears and my voice cracking.

I watched as he pushed himself up from his seat, anger and sadness filling his eyes. "Is he okay? Is he... alive?" He asked, his voice wavy.

"No. He- he didn't make it." I told him, immediately looking down at the floor and biting my lip again.

"He's..... dead? My dad's.... dead?" He sounded sad at first, but his tune soon changed. "How long ago was this?" He snapped at me.

I contemplated telling him it had only just happened, that I'd only just found out. But then I remembered, I could never ever lie to Jack. Even if I wanted to. "2 weeks ago." I confessed.

"2 WEEKS?" He screeched, taking me by the shoulders and glaring into my tear filled eyes. "2 whole fucking weeks? 14 fucking days? My dad's been dead for four-fucking-teen days and you didn't tell me? What the hell is wrong with you?" He screamed at the top of his lungs, pushing me harder than I'd thought he could.

Once again, I pulled myself up from the floor and took him by the shoulders. "You think I didn't want to tell you? How am I supposed to tell the ONE person who means the most to me that his dad's dead? How? I've tried so, so many times, and even if I managed to find the words, your mom would have never let me, what with all that you're already going through. I thought there was too much on your plate, you were going for an operation. There wasn't a good time."

"There wasn't a GOOD time?" He repeated, his eyes growing big with anger. "What about that time I asked where my dad was? What about the time I asked if he was okay? What about the time I asked if he was still fit to go see that match with me? I've asked about my dad so many fucking times, you had plently of opportunities. How DARE you blame this on shitty timing, you know for a fact I would have rather heard it then than now." He shrugged his way out of my grasp and carried on packing his bags, throwing clothes into it like a punching bag.

"I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry! But it was hard for me too, you literally mean the whole world to me and I couldn't break your heart!" I searched his face for some sort of forgiveness, something I shouldn't have even thought about getting.

"Ha." He scoffed sarcastically. "That's ironic, because guess what you did? You fucking broke my heart. I can't even look at you, hell, I can't even be in the same room as you! Don't expect me to be round at yours anytime soon, don't even expect a text or a phone call from me anytime soon. And you dare come near any of my family, I'll fucking kill you." He shouted, pushing into my shoulder, hard enough to make me stumble, and slammed the door behind him.

I ran out behind him, my face drenched with tears. "Jack!" I called after him and he didn't turn around. I was aware there were many people standing or sitting around, but I didn't care.

"No, please, don't, I can't do this without you," I screamed as I fell to my knees, totally alone in a crowded room.

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I enjoyed visiting Bassam's grave. More often than not I'd get over upset and form a pool of my own tears in the middle of the graveyard, but his grave somehow healed the void of Jack leaving.

"What's up, Bassam," was my usual starting sentence. It was my usual starting sentence to greet him when he was alive too. I figured he'd like it. "Day 100 without Jack, and I'm not dead. Do I win some kind of award?" I laughed lightly to myself. "I kinda feel bad, you know, him being on his own after this. Like sure, he had Joyce, but I always figured Jack needed more. He needs male in his life. For a long, long time it was you, and now that you're gone, it should have been me. I should have been there for him. But how? How when he doesn't answer my calls? Open the door when I knock? Talk to me when we pass each other in the street? I tried. I really did. I couldn't force him. Keeping your death from him for that long, it wasn't fair. I thought I was doing the right thing. How could I have known what the right thing was?

Anyway, enough complaining. I'm wearing the shirt you bought Jack who gave it to me as a birthday present when he forgot it was my birthday. This shirt makes me happy. Not only does it remind me of Jack, it reminds me of you. Man, I miss you. Everyone misses you. It's crazy how important you were to so many people. Kinda wish you were my dad. Y'know, I love my dad and all, but you're the best. I had a cheese and red onion sandwich today. It tasted horrible. Kinda reminds me of that time you tried the cranberry and ham sandwich for the first time. Quality. I seriously don't understand how you didn't have your own TV show- Oh, I have something for you." I pulled my backpack from my back and unzipped it. "Flowers from my mom. She always liked you too." I smiled, placing the flowers in front of my feet. "I really love you. Thanks for, you know, affecting my life so much. I normally come here and make fun of you, but I wanna tell you I'm so grateful for everything you've done for me. Things you don't even know you've done for me. You've made me see things I never pictured I'd see. You're amazing. Really amazing." My hands began shaking, lips trembling. I wasn't gonna cry, not this time. "Thanks for listening. No one else listens. My mom and dad don't understand why I'm so upset about you and Jack. You know when people are trying to comfort you, and they're like 'aw it's okay, it's not your fault'. That's all my parents have got. And they can't tell me it's not my fault, because it is my fault. Everything's my fault. Sure, I didn't make you have a heart attack and I didn't make Jack crash his car, but everything else that happened afterwards was my fault. I'm such a screw up, I really am. I thought I was doing the right thing. Turns out I did the complete opposite. Damn, I miss you. I miss Jack. I even miss Joyce's suffocating hugs. She's been through so much. I wish I was there, to y'know, help her. Except I'd probably screw that up too." I grabbed hold of my shirt. "I love this shirt. I love you. I'm gonna go now, before you get the pleasure of seeing me crying, again. Like usual. See ya, Bassam, and here's to 100 crappy days without Jack." I half smiled, tracing my hand over the ingravings that read, "Bassam Barakat, a loving father and husband, brother and partner." I smiled again as a tear hit my left cheek, and then my right cheek. I rubbed them away with my hand, blinking a few times before I heard a throat clear. I jumped, my hand still on the headstone but my body the other way round.

Jack fucking Barakat.

I didn't know what to do. I hadn't seen him in 100 days for Pete's sake. I'd been coming to this grave for a hundred frickin' days and not once had I clashed with Jack. I just stared at him. Longing for him to advance up to me and kiss me. I imagined it for a while, and I smiled inside. If that's even possible.

"Hey." I finally breathed. "I was just, leaving." I said, slowly removing my hand from Bassam's grave, not taking my eyes of Jack once. I couldn't tell whether he was mad, sad, happy, annoyed or about to eat my face off. I contemplated turning around and taking the long way to my car so I wouldn't have to walk directly past him, but my legs were sore and I really didn't want to walk all the way round. I shuffled my heels and finally worked up the courage to walk on by him.

He didn't say anything as I walked by him. I was kinda hoping he'd grab my arm and say it was okay, that he forgave me. You know, like what happens in the movies. But he didn't.

I shuffled my heels down the pathway, not daring to look back. My legs were trembling so hard, I swear I was gonna collapse. I'm glad I didn't, because I wasn't sure whether Jack would have helped me, or just left me there. Probably the second one.

"I like your shirt." I heard him say, just before I was out of ear shot, not looking at me once, the words escaped his mouth so quickly it was hard to hear him. But I had heard him.

I'd forgotten how much I loved his voice. It was perfect, just like the rest of him. I stopped in my tracks, but Jack still wasn't looking at me. I wondered if he wanted me to thank him, or walk up to him and hug him. I didn't do either in the end, I just carried on walking to my car, thinking about the words that had come out of his mouth and how that was the most contact I'd had with him in 100 days.

I wondered if he'd been counting the days we were apart like I had. Crossing off every day on the calendar, like it was an achievement. Waking up and getting out the door was an achievement for me nowadays.

When I got to my car I reclined my head back in the seat, a wave of emotions throwing themselves at me. I felt tears run down my face first, followed by a outburst kick from my foot, causing the car to shake slightly. Feelings sucked.

I started the engine, wiping pathetic tears away from my face. I promised myself I wouldn't cry today.

I backed out of the parking lot and out onto the main road. Driving had sort of become my friend recently. You know, like driving with loud music playing and not knowing where you're going, but you're still going. Never stopping. Like life.

I thought about that concept for a while. The fact my life hadn't stopped after Jack had left, the fact I was in so much pain, yet I still got up everyday, and I still got one day closer to my deathbed.

Death had never really scared me much, even when I was younger. Growing up in a family who went through so many deaths in the space of a year, it was almost normal.

When I drove into my mom's drive, I stopped a black Toyota parked behind her own. I recognised it immediately as my mom's brother. I didn't call him my 'uncle' or whatever. I called him Tom. Because that was his name and he was only 5 years older than me.

It was funny thinking that he was an uncle at only 5, yet in my whole lifetime, I would never be an uncle as I didn't have any living siblings. It kinda made me sad, because you can't screw up being an uncle but you can screw up being a dad and I definitely would screw that up.

I opened the door to the home I'd been staying in for the past few months as I quit my job and was attending a local college full-time with an undecided major as I didn't have a clue what I wanted to be but I also wanted options because as much as I wished I could, I would never be able to kill myself which meant unless I got shot or run over by a bus, I needed options.

I ran up the stairs, eager to avoid Tom and sit with my nephew who's name was Mike. He was 6 and I liked him a lot because he didn't ask why I always looked so sad or why I didn't eat as much as I used to. I joined him at our usual spot in between the barriers of the railings that ran around the stairs and balcony. My legs dangled over the hallway where my coat and shoes were lying. Mike was already there, and he gave me a small smile as I joined him. I asked him about his day and what he had for lunch and he asked me about cars and how fast airplanes went and what I wanted to be when I grew up. I told him that my favourite kind of car was a BMW m3 and that special planes can fly up to 4500 mph but the average one flies at around 500 mph from what I've heard, but I'm no expert and that I wanted to be Jack's boyfriend when I grew up and he smiled at me and I put my headphones in and played Fall Out Boy and thought about Jack and how long he'd been standing at the graveyard and if he'd heard any of my conversation with Bassam as I threw paper airplanes down to the bottom of the hallway.