The Devil On Your Shoulder

Jack's POV *Non-flashback*

Zachary Merrick. I laughed at the memory of that kid. He'd been the first and only guy, only person, I'd ever dated. We'd been together around 2 years when he broke up with me.

He was the reason I turned gay. I was his Alex, his beginner. I didn't know how to be gay, and there definitely wasn't some book I could read on it. That disappointed me, maybe I'll write a book on how to be gay one day.

Anyway, Zack was a great guy. There wasn't a bad bone in his body, although he acted like there was. He was warm and kind, caring and gentle. He was a perfect boyfriend. I never classed him as the typical best friend lover type thing. I had a lot of feelings for him, confusing feelings, but I never saw him as my best friend. We wouldn't tease each other, we wouldn't fight, we'd just be lovey and happy. Looking back, it really fucking sucked. What me and Alex used to have, was a million times better. The ability to fight and tease each other, you needed that in a relationship.

There'd been many reasons why me and Zack just didn't fit. We didn't connect, we were almost scared of each other. He was scared to tell me to shut up just incase I'd leave him, I was scared to tell him he was wrong incase he'd tell my parents or friends that I was gay. He didn't like Home Alone. How could I be in a relationship with someone who didn't like Home Alone? He liked skateboarding, I liked Blink-182. He liked photography, I liked sleeping. He liked school and I liked bunking off. Oh, and the fact he was straight.

"Jack!" I heard a familar voice shout before I fell to the ground after someone had pushed into my back, hard. I felt another presence beside me, and moved my head to see Alex lying on the ground too.

"The fuck're you doing?" I snapped at him, pushing him a little before standing up. I hadn't spoken to Alex in 6 months, why was he acting like nothing was wrong?

"I could ask you the same question," He told me, jumping onto his feet, the same way he'd done when getting out of bed in the morning. He bit his lip, something he only did when he was nervous. Which was rare, Alex Gaskarth was never nervous. "Thought you'd been expelled?"

I laughed sarcastically. How ironic that he starts caring now. "I've got you to thank for that."

"Jack-" Alex began.

"Shut up," I told him, getting angry again. Ever since Alex had left I'd been getting serious mood swings. One second I'd be happy and calm, the next I'd want to kill someone. "Just shut up, Alex, I'm sick to death of hearing your voice every time I close my eyes, I'm sick of hearing your name every time I open my mouth to speak to someone else. I'm sick of it all. I'm sick of you. I'm sick of you running through my head all the time. I'm so fucking sick and you have the nerve to come and speak to me, after 6 months of nothing. 6 months of fooling around with other people, in my own school, right in front of my face. You're a jerk." I noticed I was shouting and took a step back. I turned my back on him.

"Jacky," He called after me.

I snapped my head around, glaring at him. "Stop it." I snapped.

"Stop what? You're not yourself today, Jack." He asked me, his eyes dancing around my face.

I was annoyed, my head was aching like hell, something that had been happening to me a lot lately. I couldn't take Alex anymore. "Stop acting like nothing's wrong. You hurt me more than anyone else has ever hurt me, more than my mum and dad did by separating. All those things you said, it was all a load of shit. I can see that now, dunno why I didn't notice it earlier." I suddenly went from angry and pissed, to sad and needy. I pulled on my hoodie straps, hands shaking slightly.

I couldn't stay here anymore. Alex had seen me cry more times than my dad had, and I wouldn't let it happen again. I nodded my head lightly, looking at Alex briefly before I spun around.

Suddenly, I felt dizzy. My hands were shaking more and more with every step I took. I couldn't see straight and I could feel myself wobbling from side to side. I heard Alex shout something at me, but I couldn't quite make out what it was. My head was pounding, although I'd been getting used to it, the amount of times it'd been happening to me.

Before I knew it I was on the floor.

*Flashback*

"Jack, you alright?" My mom called me from down stairs.

I was hanging over the toilet, my head resting on it. Not because it was comfortable, it was far from comfortable. I'd just thrown up for the 3rd time in 2 days. "Yeah," I told her, not having the energy to shout. "Must be something I ate."

"Alright, I'm leaving now, see you later kid." She told me, and I heard the door close as he left.

I picked up a towel, rubbing my mouth with it. I hated being ill, so much.

It'd been 4 months without Alex, 4 months that sucked. I'd been having trouble with just about everything. Having trouble sleeping, eating, living. I couldn't concentrate at home or at school, the pain in my wrists got worse and worse every day and I'd been having abnormal head-aches. Sometimes I wish I wasn't living, that I was with my grandparents.

I didn't believe in heaven. I didn't believe in a God or anything even slightly religious. I liked to think that once I was dead, I was dead. There was no coming back as a different person or 'haunting people'. I'd have a bunch of people I'd love to haunt, though.

I decided to stay at home and not go to school. I made myself a sandwich, switched on the TV and lay on the couch. I wasn't really paying attention to the TV, I was more interested in Alex. I'd been thinking about Alex a lot lately, been thinking about him and his new girlfriend.

Me and Alex had a 'special' connection as his dad liked to call it. Alex enjoyed showing me off to his family members, but he hid me away from his friends. Peter had told me it was because he didn't want anyone else to have me. I had laughed, secretly hoping this was true.

It wasn't true. Alex was ashamed of me. I was just some lanky kid that looked weird and didn't have a lot of friends. That's who I'd always been. I'd never felt like I meant more to anyone.

I pulled my knees up to my chest, taking the last bite of my sandwich. I was beginning to feel drowsy, which was unusual as I normally didn't feel tired until at least after 4pm. I looked up at the clock, seeing it was only 2. I didn't want to sleep, whenever I slept, Alex was in my dreams. Nightmares, good dreams, flashbacks to when we were together.

I didn't like it. Sleeping was the only time my brain was shut off from the world and it was the only time I was free to think about anything. During the day I limited myself to what I could think about Alex. I could only think about the bad times, and not the good times. The good times were worse than the bad times.

But at night, the good times haunted me. And the really really bad times haunted me too. The cutting and the laughing all mixed into one horrible night-mare.

Alex's parents had tried to call me a few times, asking me if I was alright, I pressume. I couldn't take their calls, I couldn't go back there. The first month without Alex had been constant reliving the good times and wishing I'd done things differently. The regret, the guilt, the pain.

I rubbed my face, all my thoughts being too much for me. I switched off the TV, lay back in my chair, and suddenly, all my thoughts and worries disappeared.