Forget Me, Forget Me Not

“I thought I loved you!”

“Yeah, I know, that's the problem. You thought about it. You don't love with your head, or even your eyes. You love with your heart. Listen to your heart. Does your heart say that you love me?”

“I don't know, I... Jack, you're my best friend.”

“Best friends don't have sex, Alex,” Jack replies coldly, “and more than once I might add.”

“I'm not gay!” Alex blurts out of frustration.

“You don't feel it?” Jack whispers, curling his long fingers around Alex's slender wrist, “You don't feel the sparks when we kiss? You don't feel the warmth in your heart when I look at you like I do when you look at me? Why can't you... love me, Alex? What is wrong with me? Why can't you love me? Why can't anyone love me?”

Alex looks down at Jack's hand as his grip tightens slightly, “But I do love you, Jack. Just not in the way you want me to.”

Jack peels his fingers from around Alex's wrist, almost reluctantly as his voice grows softer, “That's not good enough for me, Alex. I don't believe you. I can't believe you when you say you don't love me.”

“Jack, I... We need to stop this. It's time for us to let go.”

“Or it’s time for you to go back to pretending to be someone you’re not.”

“It’s not my fault you were so eager to fuck me and be my little experiment! I warned you that there were probably going to be no feelings attached! The only person who’s pretending here is you!”

“Oh, really?” Jack replies snidely, his gaze set on Alex, “And what exactly is it that I’m pretending about, Alex? Am I making it up when I say you kissed back, every time? Am I dreaming when recall how badly you wanted me? Am I being delusional when I can remember the look in your eyes when I had you in the palm of my hand? Am I just bullshitting when I can remind you of that desperate, soft, little gasp you made the first time I touched you? Do you remember what you said? You said you loved me! And like the idiot I am, I believed you. I guess I should’ve believed the saying: ‘Everyone loves you when they’re about to cum.’ I guess even my best friend, who I know feels it too, is no exception. What a waste of my fucking time.”

Out of habit, Alex takes Jack’s hand in his, completely unsure of what to say next. They stand in an awkward silence, looking at their joined hands.

“It’s gonna hurt so bad to let you go,” Alex whispers, his eyes closing slowly.

“See, there it is!” Jack exclaims, pulling his hand away from Alex’s, “You say shit like that then tell me that you don’t love me,” his voice is now soft, and pained; all traces of anger gone, “I can’t do this, Alex. Not anymore. I don’t think I can handle it.”

There’s a long silence, that is so heavy in the room, it’s nearly tangible, “When will I be able to see you again? I mean… just in general.”

“Don’t, Alex.”

“Don’t what? Want to be a part of your life? Want to see my best friend?”

“No, don’t remember me. It’s best that you just move on with your life.”

“What? No, I’m going to remember you. I could never forget you.”

“No, I don’t want you to remember me. I’m not worth the trouble. So, forget me, okay?” Jack says with an empty laugh, not daring to meet those sad, honey colored eyes.

“Jack, why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?” Alex says, his eyes searching the face of the younger.

“Because I can’t do this anymore,” the younger whispers, still not meeting the eyes of the elder.

“What does that mean?” Alex asks, his tone now more urgent; Jack has never been this cryptic, and it terrifies him.

Instead of answering the question, Jack simply leans in, pressing his lips to Alex’s sweetly one last time. Hoping to save whatever is left of their relationship, Alex gets a firm grip on Jack’s hair, closing the gap between their bodies. At that moment, all he could focus on is the taste his lips allow; the perfect mixture between salty and minty. This taste, this moment, this raw emotion could mean everything, or nothing at all.

“Alex, d-don’t,” Jack whispers into the kiss, his voice shaking. Alex doesn’t respond, but simply tries to deepen the kiss; he can’t let this moment mean nothing, it has to mean everything because this moment is all he has.

Jack is the first to pull away, resting his forehead on the elder’s, “Lex.”

The nickname places a reluctant smile on his lips as he looks up at Jack; it quickly fades once he notes the serious expression he is met with.

“Goodbye, Alex,” is all Jack says softly before kissing Alex’s forehead tenderly and walking out the front door. His heart is filled with a familiar sadness, but the emptiness is new. A ghost of the elder stands numbly in front of the window, watching the younger sit in the driver’s seat of his car, his body shaking from the magnitude of his sobs. A sweaty palm rests on the window as Alex looks on helplessly. He looks down, not able to bear the sight of Jack sobbing, brown and blonde hair falling in his face, as he too, begins to lose composure.

***

Jack lies lifelessly in bed, Alex’s voice floating from his speakers, making the room heavy with emotion.

“Get me out of this place, before I cause more damage. A small price to pay for building houses out of matchsticks. And when things get too hot, you’ve got me to blame for every fire that breaks out in every lover’s name. Don’t forget, we have unfinished business, stories yet to unfold, tales that must be retold. And I regret not knowing when to put an end to all this madness; keeps me wanting, keeps me wanting more... Sell me out I'm yesterday's old news, phrases left on paper, black ink bleeding through the pages where we made our history. Call me foolish, I feel hopeless. Running from lions, never felt like such a mistake, like a deer in the headlights. Running from lions, never felt like such a mistake, I won't know what hit me... Running from lions, never felt like such a mistake, like a deer in the headlights. Running from lions, never felt like such a, I won't know what hit me... Don't forget, we've got unfinished business, stories yet to unfold, tales that must be retold. And I regret not knowing when to put an end to all this madness, keeps me wanting, keeps me wanting more…”

A sob erupts from his body once more and he clutches his chest in pain. The weight of the pain on his heart is crushing his entire body; he’s trapped under its massive weight and couldn’t get out if he tried.

Besides his best friend Zack, Alex was the first person to know that Jack is bisexual. He knew Zack would never judge him for anything, he’s too kind for anything of the sort. He didn’t give the normal ‘horrified-straight-guy’ reaction, but he looked at him for a long while. Not in a way of disgust, or confusion, but in his own way; the way Zack looks when he needs to think.

“Are you sure?” he’d asked after a long pause. Jack simply nodded, knowing he wouldn’t try to talk him out of it. He leaned over and gave him a hug, a hug no different from any of the other times Jack needed consolation. Jack had always suspected that Zack had noticed his feelings for Alex but decided to keep quiet, much like he does with everything else. Once they pulled away, Zack looked at Jack, again, in a way no different than before.

“Alex,” he said quietly, “It’s Alex you have feelings for, right?”

Another nod, Jack couldn’t bear to lie to his best friend.

“Are you going to tell him?”

Jack chewed on his lip for a long while before shaking his head furiously, “I can’t tell him. It’ll only fuck everything up.”

He wishes now he’d listened to himself. Zack didn’t push him to tell Alex but gave him a reminder that if things didn’t work out for whatever reason, he would still be there for him. In desperate need of a distraction, he calls his best friend.

“Hey Jack, what’s up?” he answers, sounding more chipper than normal.

“What’s gotten into you?” a bitter voice asks.

“Well, I… I just had a great run. That’s all,” Zack stammers, sounding taken aback, “Are you okay?”

“No,” Jack breathes, feeling his hand trembling around the phone, “I fucked everything up. Just like I said I would.”

“Jack, what happened?” he asks, sounding worried. A door closes on the other end of the phone and another one opens, Zack is on his way; Jack doesn’t need to ask to know that’s the truth. He’s always felt as though Zack has always been a better friend than he deserves. But then again, Jack has never thought he deserves much of anything.

“Jack?” his best friend repeats.

“S-Sorry. The door is unlocked. Just come in when you get here.”
Jack hangs up the phone and drops it on his bed, sitting on the floor in front of it. His eyes are set on the door, just a hallway’s length away. His studio apartment is small, but cozy. Once his feelings began to grow stronger for Alex, Jack could no longer live with him; it was like torture. So he opted to live alone, in a space for one.

His ears hear “Running from Lions” repeat once more but his mind doesn’t register it, and instead filters it out. Zack lives a block away so he’ll be walking through the door any minute now. He’ll probably come in, drop his keys on the table, take off his shoes and sit down next to Jack until he decides to talk. Most of the time, it was just Jack talking when he came over like this. Zack was never a man of many words but whenever he did speak, it always seemed to strike a chord with whomever was listening. As minutes melt away, Jack vaguely wonders where his best friend is but doesn’t let it bother him. Who would want to spend time with him anyway? About five minutes later, the knob turns slowly before Zack appears in the doorway, holding a box of pizza.

“I brought food,” he says in his characteristic shy voice. He sets the box down on the table and closes the door, making sure to lock it because Jack would fail to do so if left up to his own devices. He walks over to the kitchen and shuffles around it near silently before appearing in front of Jack with two plates. He sets them down on the floor next to Jack who does not respond at all to the gesture. A frown contorts his features as he leaves, returning with two drinks for the pair of them. Jack takes his drink, simply because he didn’t want Zack to stand there awkwardly any longer.

He sits down next to him, talking more than Jack knew him to be capable of, “Jack, listen. I know this hurts but… it’s gonna be alright. I’m not very good with comforting words, I guess. Isn’t it better, in the end, to be able to say that you told him how you felt? Sure, it didn’t work out, but how many people do you know of who can admit to their best friends that they’re bisexual? And then on top of that, you told him that you knew this because you loved him—”

“Love,” Jack corrects quietly, “Love. I still do love him.”

Zack frowns, knowing how hurt his best friend must feel but Jack’s facial expression does not change. He reaches up to snake a hand through his hair and his sleeve gets pushed up slightly, revealing his best kept secret.

“You’ve been cutting yourself?” Zack asks, jerking Jack’s hand out of his hair and turning it over to get a better look at his wrist, “Jack, we talked about this. I thought you stopped!” He pushes his sleeve up higher and nearly gasps in horror when he sees Jack’s newest creation. The skin is still red, and tender so it’s obvious that it’s a brand new series of cuts that spell out ‘worthless.’

Jack yanks his arm away, staring up at Zack with both hurt and anger in his eyes, “I know, okay?! I’m a fucking freak, a worthless fucking freak.”

“Jack,” Zack says slowly, “you’re not a freak. What would drive you to carve this into your skin? What happens when you get older and have kids, nieces and nephews? What are they gonna say? How are you gonna explain this away to them? What about when we get even more popular as a band? What are you gonna say to our fans?”

“I don’t know, Zack! I don’t fucking know!” Jack exclaims, shooting up so he’s now standing over his best friend, “Who’s to say I’ll even live that long?” The last sentence came out a mere mumble but Zack hears it and stands up as well, giving Jack an intense, almost terrifying stare.

“You will not take your life, Jack Barakat,” his voice has dropped down an octave or two into a deep serious, rumble, “Do you hear me? You’re not. And you’re not going to cut yourself again. If you do, I will.”

“Zack…”

“I’m serious, Jack. Don’t do it.”

A simple nod is all the skunk-haired boy can muster as tears spill out of his eyes and cascade down his cheeks.

“Jack, I didn’t mean to upset you,” Zack says in a soft voice, “I just got scared. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my best friend.”

Jack hugs his best friend, as tightly as he can manage, and as he hugs back, Zack can’t help but feel like something bad is going to happen.

***

When Alex wakes up the next day, it’s an average morning. The sun is shining too bright through his drapes, his hair is a mess and all he can think about is coffee. But his morning time routine is interrupted by an unfamiliar dread. He can’t quite place it but he knows something is wrong. His body is propelled upright and out of bed, his feet landing on the ground with a decided thud. He runs a hand through his hair, but doesn’t wait for it to fall into place before pulling on a hoodie over the white t-shirt he’d slept in that night; he doesn’t bother to change out of his pajama pants. He instead pulls on a pair of socks and stuffs his feet into a pair of boots, leaving them untied as he grabs his keys and walks outside, down the icy driveway to his car. The winter air fills his lungs and leaves his bones feeling numb with cold. A few lonely snowflakes make their way into his hair but he brushes them away with a stroke of his hand as he climbs in the car. Shivering, he starts his car and waits for heat to come pulsating out of its vents. After a solid five minutes, the temperature in the car is well above the negative five it is outside, and the windows begin to defrost. The feeling of dread becomes more intense so Alex quickly backs out of his driveway, not bothering to wait any longer for his windows to defrost. The snow has picked up significantly in the time it took for the car to warm up and it’s grown incredibly dark for just after ten am, all traces of sunlight gone; it’s practically a blizzard outside, but Alex doesn’t stop driving. His windshield is clear enough that he can see traffic lights, stop signs and the very scarce amount of other cars on the road. In seven minutes, half the time it normally takes, he pulls up to Jack’s apartment, parking crookedly in the nearest open spot. He runs inside the building and up to his third floor apartment, not even bothering to respond to the people at the front desk asking him what the hurry is. He simply tells them to call an ambulance; he has a feeling it’s going to be needed. He jiggles the knob to Jack’s apartment and his stomach lurches when he realizes it’s unlocked. Slowly, both out of fear and caution, Alex opens the door.

“Jack?” he calls out, squinting down the hallway. Every single curtain or blind is drawn shut, making the apartment darker than it is outside.

“Jack?” the elder repeats, using the walls as a guide to make his way down the hallway. When he approaches Jack, his hand immediately flies to his mouth to stifle a gasp. He’s lying naked in bed, different words carved into the surface of his once smooth, tan skin. On one arm, there’s ‘worthless’, on his stomach it says ‘fag’, the other arm says ‘freak’ and his wrists are slashed, what looks to be three times on both sides. Several empty pill bottles lay around him as well as an empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Alex falls to his knees by his bedside, not even bothering to stop the sobs that shake him to his core.

“J-Jack, please,” he stammers, “don’t leave like this.”

“You weren’t supposed to find me,” the younger replies in a voice barely audible, “No one was.”

“Don’t you know how many people love and care about you? Your mom, dad, sister, brother, Zack, a—”

“Don’t you dare say that you did,” the skunk-haired boy murmurs, “We covered that yesterday, remember?”

“Jack, I… I did love you. I did. I—”

“I know you did, Gaskarth,” he replies, his voice weak and faltering, but ever-playful—that’s just Jack,

“You just didn’t love me in the way I wanted you to. I get it.”

“N-No, Jack,” Alex extends his trembling hand to grab Jack’s cold one in his, their hands shaking due to Alex’s nerves, “I loved you in every possible way any human being could ever love another. I still do.”

“Wow,” is all the younger says initially, “you weren’t kidding when you said you’re always late.”
Alex pushes the empty pill bottles to the ground, as well as the bottle the liquor was in, ignoring the loud noise it makes when it shatters. He pulls Jack into his arms, cradling him close as he wraps the blanket around the two of them.

He feels how cold the younger is and pulls him as close to him as possible, kissing his head over and over again, “I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Please hold on for me, Jack. Please. I n-need you. You can’t leave m-me.” The elder is now sobbing once more, rocking the two of them slowly, not daring to let go for even a second. He hears Jack’s phone ring several times, and assumes it’s Zack but doesn’t move. He looks down at Jack and sees his eyes are closing, his breathing slowing down.

“N-No, Jack… Pl-please,” Alex sobs, smoothing brown and blonde hair away from his lover’s face,

“Please stay w-with me.” He connects their lips in a soft yet meaningful kiss, and feels a spark of hope when Jack meets his lips back with love, not much force, but love. Jack slowly stops responding to the kiss and Alex pulls back slightly, beginning to perform CPR, desperate to hear his heartbeat grow stronger.

“You can’t do this!” he exclaims through his tears, “You c-can’t leave me!”

He sobs loudly, realizing his attempts are failing. This is the end.

A soft gasp leaves the lips of the younger, “Listen to me… I love you, Alexander William Gaskarth. I always have and I always will… I want you to go out… Live. Play music. Do what you love, and love what you do. Live your life to the fullest, for me.”

“I want to l-live it with you, how can you expect me to know how to breathe if you’re not here with me?! How can you even ask that?! If you’re l-leaving, take me with you…” the elder pleads, “but don’t leave me here alone.”

“No,” he says quietly, “You need to stay here, people need you.”

“But I need you!” Alex argues, unable to see the younger clearly due to the amount of tears pouring out of his eyes and down his cheeks.

“I love you,” is all the younger says with one last jagged breath. Alex lays his head on the head of the skunk-haired boy, listening to the last few beats of his heart. Loud, heartbroken sobs rip into the room and tear holes in the walls as Alex clings to Jack’s body, rocking them slowly.

“Come back to me, Jack… Please, come back,” he whispers over and over again. Some time later, a police officer as well as an EMT come into the room, shouting for Alex to stand up. He doesn’t flinch or even move, but he manages to pull himself together enough to whisper:

“He’s gone.”

***

Everyone views a funeral differently. The more optimistic view it as a cause to celebrate life, and the pessimistic use it to realize that everything and everyone dies sooner or later. Alex is of neither group, but if he had to be categorized, it would be into the latter group. Rian and Zack have taken up residence in his home and make themselves his “personal suicide watch.” He chuckles coldly at the thought and rises from his seat on his bed. He walks past his mirror and gazes amusedly at the person looking back at him. Sallow cheeks, messy hair, pale complexion and a sad disposition about the mouth and eyes. He cocks his head to the side slightly and watches the creature do the same. He runs a hand through his hair and again, the man looking back at him does the same.

His eyes close and an image of Jack filters in. Not the last Jack he’d seen but the happy, smiling Jack. They had been on the beach, laying out under the sun while Zack and Rian tossed around a football. It was right after Jack had leaned in and stole a kiss. No one had seen, probably, but Jack kinda liked that. He liked the secrecy, and the desperation that came every time their bodies were connected. Alex always found shame in it, and never saw where Jack drew such emotion because, after all, Alex wasn’t gay. It was such a vulgar word to him. Gay. Jack had convinced Alex that he wasn’t gay, he was bisexual but even that left him uneasy. How could Jack like both girls and guys? How could he even talk to anyone about that? Doesn’t he feel the same shame that Alex does—and Alex isn’t even gay or bi as Jack so awkwardly described himself. There go those words again. Why did two words have such an effect on Alex? The answer is simple: they’re labels. People look at you differently once you place these labels on yourself, and they begin to add their own. Fag, freak, homo, sinner, cocksucker. The list goes on, and becomes more brutal. Alex wouldn’t be able to handle the weight of the stigma on his back. So, he did what any rational person would do: deny everything. The denial was his downfall. It cost him Jack, his best friend, and the one he loved more than anyone else.

“Hey Lex, you ready to go?” Rian asks, forcing Alex’s eyes open.

He stares at his friend for a long time before parting his lips for a snide reply, “Don’t call me that,” he snaps, “only Jack can.”

He simply nods, his tone not changing, “You ready?”

Now it’s Alex’s turn to nod. He pulls a hat on over his messy, uncombed locks, slides on his darkest pair of sunglasses and follows numbly behind Rian, Zack behind them both. The drive to the cemetery is silent, with the exception of the hum of the engine and the low murmur of the heat. The three are the last to arrive before the proceedings begin. Alex isn’t quite aware of what he’s hearing, it all goes in one ear and out the other. Through the black screen of his lenses, he can see that everyone around him is crying. Some audibly, some not. Alex is used to crying by now; it’s as plain as breathing to him. He’s almost emotionless to the scene around him, and feels out of place. No one would be here if it weren’t for him; Jack would be running around, joking, laughing and lighting up the world with his smile. Alex feels his heart begin to thud painfully in his chest and he reaches a pale, thin hand up to clutch his chest. He sees Jack’s coffin begin getting lowered to the ground and that’s when all composure is lost. He falls to his knees sobbing, wrapping his arms around himself tightly. In an act of undeserved kindness, Jack’s parents both come to him, helping him up, wrapping their arms around him as well. Alex took their son away from them, their baby, yet here they are embracing him. Too weak to protest, Alex lets them hold him as countless sobs rip from his body. What feels like centuries later, they release him and tell him to please join them at their house once he feels ready, stating they’d love to talk about things.

“I’ll be there,” a meek, watery voice says. Rian and Zack take over from there, driving Alex over to the Barakat residence. The afternoon passes in a blur, Alex barely able to talk to anyone at the “party”—if you can even call it that. Once more, his self-appointed babysitters drag him away once the time has come for him to leave. When they get home, for the most part, they leave him alone.

Alex lays on his bed, not bothering to take off clothes and shoes, or getting under the covers. For right now, he just wants to wallow in the pain that comes with existence. He deserves this pain, he deserves all pain but wouldn’t dare try hurting himself. He couldn’t break a promise to Jack, even if he is no longer here. Hours, maybe days or weeks later, Alex finally feels tired enough to sleep. So tired, in fact, that as soon as his eyes close, a dream presents itself.

“Lex,” the all too familiar voice says, causing Alex to spring up in bed.

“J-Jack… What are you doing here?” Alex stammers, reaching out for the skunk-haired boy.
He sits down on the bed next to him, frowning, “You don’t look so good, love. You gotta take care of yourself.”

“What’s the point?” Alex mutters, playing with the hem of his sleeve, “You’re gone.”

“I know, Lex,” he says, reaching his hand up to stroke the elder’s face, wiping away a stray tear, “But remember your promise. You told me you’d live. And the only way to do that is to forget me.”

“That’s not true!” the elder argues, “How could you say that?!”

“Forget me, forget me not, you still need to keep your promise,” Jack says, gently removing the hat covering Alex’s hair and pulling off his shoes before pulling him into his arms.

“How long are you going to stay with me?” Alex whispers, allowing himself to be held and protected in his embrace.

“Until morning,” the younger whispers, “By the time you wake up, I will be gone. And I don’t know if I’ll be able to see you again. So I need your word. Forget me, or forget me not, you need to keep your promise.”

“I will,” the elder promises, “and, Jack?”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“I know, I love you too.”

When Alex wakes up the next morning, he is greeted by the too-bright sun and is feeling slightly lighter of heart. He looks down at the bed next to him and sees a wrinkle in the blanket, his hat lying on the bed, and shoes placed neatly next to each other by the foot of his bed.