Status: what even is this what am i doing lol
Sending SOS: Or, How Jack Learns to Walk the Line Between Love and Hate
Chapter One
The first time Jack notices him, it’s not even a thing. It’s not even a thing, because he’s the new kid, Alex Gaskarth, and everyone notices him. So when Alex walks into homeroom on the first day back after the summer, waves and shyly says, “Hello, hi, I’m Alex Gaskarth. I’m from England,” it’s not weird that Jack is staring, because he’s the new kid, so everyone is staring.
It’s just that after that first introduction, only Jack seems to find it hard to stop.
--
“Why are you glaring at the new kid?” asks Pete under his breath at lunch a few days later. They’re sitting on a bench outside in the sun, Pete, Jack, Gabe and Brendon, and today Alex is wearing a Green Day shirt and torn skinny jeans, his hair artfully tousled. He’s fallen in well to Barrington High, Jack has noticed, and is talking animatedly to a crowd of friends as they smile and laugh at whatever it is he’s saying. Jack wonders what he’s talking about, what he’s smiling at.
“I’m not. ’M not staring.” Jack mumbles, and doesn’t hear the rest of what Pete says because he’s busy not staring at Alex.
--
They’re in Chemistry class, and Jack is ignoring the cacophony of students doing chemistry stuff around him in favour of peering across the room at Alex. They’re supposed to be testing metals for oxides, or something, so the bunsen burners are out, and Jack would normally be all over that, because, hello, burning shit, but today his mind is elsewhere. Elsewhere being across the room, where Alex is wearing the weird Chemistry goggles and actually making them work. Jack feels something warm begin to burn in his chest and furrows his eyebrows in a frown.
“Um, hello, Earth to Jack?” Comes Brendon’s voice from beside him, and Jack finally registers the hand that’s been waving in front of his face, trying to catch his attention, and reluctantly tears his eyes away from Alex to look expectantly at his partner. “We kind of need to start today, dude.”
“Right, sorry, God. I was totally spacing out.” Brendon raises an eyebrow and smirks, and Jack pretends not to notice.
They’re packing up at the end of class when it happens. Brendon is chattering happily away in Jack’s ear as Jack picks up the tray of test tubes to put them back in the drawer, and later, later Jack would blame Brendon for distracting him, say that’s how it happened. Later still, he’d say it was fate and that God had meant for it to happen, and Alex would just laugh and accuse him of being a big dumb dramaqueen clutz.
But in reality, what happens is this. Alex pulls his bag onto his back, laughing at something that weird kid with the scarves, Ryan, has just said, and Jack can’t hear what he’s saying, but suddenly Alex is looking right at him and his eyes are bright and warm and Jack vaguely remembers thinking oh, fuck, before he drops the tray of test tubes.
There’s a massive smash, and the class all turn to look at him. Jack feels himself flushing furiously. “Oops.”
Jack has to stay behind with a dustpan and brush when the bell goes, Brendon leaving with a promise to save his seat on the bench, and falls to his knees with a sigh. It could have been worse, he thinks, as he sets to work. He didn’t get yelled at or anything, and didn’t even get detention. “Accidents happen,” the teacher had said gravely, handing him the broom before leaving too. So now Jack is alone in the Chemistry room, left to clear up the pieces and contemplate the tragedy of his life in terms of metaphors involving smashed test tubes.
Until he realises he isn’t alone.
Alex wears a pair of black, beaten up Converse sneakers to school every day. He wears them every day, and Jack totally hasn’t noticed because he totally hasn’t been staring. But Alex wears them every day, and he’s wearing them today, because they’re the shoes Jack sees from his crouched position on the floor and they’re Alex’s legs, and shit, shit shit shit shit, that’s totally Alex standing over him.
“Um...” Jack says, looking up through his eyelashes, and raising his eyebrows.
Alex has his arms crossed and his hip cocked out to the side, and he’s wearing those beaten up Converses and an angry frown. “Why do you keep glaring at me?”
Jack has learnt, over the years, to Not Care. Life, and more importantly, high school, has taught Jack this skill, and it's got him so far in life. The trick is to never let anyone know you care, be cool. Let people like you more than you like them. That's how he gets invited to all the parties, get asked out by all the girls.
So when Alex is standing over Jack, tapping his Converse clad foot and raising an eyebrow impatiently, Jack should let it go.
Jack should say, "Sorry. I'll stop." Jack should say, "Dude, what the fuck, I haven't." Jack should say, "Hi! I'm Jack." Jack means to say anything, anything at all that isn't what he does say. And what he says is,
"Because, fuck you, that's why."
And basically it’s all downhill from there.
--
That night, Jack logs onto his computer as he’s curled up in bed and opens a google search. He types “how come some people just piss you off for no reason,” and taps his fingers impatiently, scrolling through the 77 million results before realising that he’s being an idiot, slamming the screen shut and rolling over to sleep.
He dreams of caramel coloured hair and a contagious laugh and strong, tanned arms around him.
He wakes up even angrier than he was before.
It’s just that after that first introduction, only Jack seems to find it hard to stop.
--
“Why are you glaring at the new kid?” asks Pete under his breath at lunch a few days later. They’re sitting on a bench outside in the sun, Pete, Jack, Gabe and Brendon, and today Alex is wearing a Green Day shirt and torn skinny jeans, his hair artfully tousled. He’s fallen in well to Barrington High, Jack has noticed, and is talking animatedly to a crowd of friends as they smile and laugh at whatever it is he’s saying. Jack wonders what he’s talking about, what he’s smiling at.
“I’m not. ’M not staring.” Jack mumbles, and doesn’t hear the rest of what Pete says because he’s busy not staring at Alex.
--
They’re in Chemistry class, and Jack is ignoring the cacophony of students doing chemistry stuff around him in favour of peering across the room at Alex. They’re supposed to be testing metals for oxides, or something, so the bunsen burners are out, and Jack would normally be all over that, because, hello, burning shit, but today his mind is elsewhere. Elsewhere being across the room, where Alex is wearing the weird Chemistry goggles and actually making them work. Jack feels something warm begin to burn in his chest and furrows his eyebrows in a frown.
“Um, hello, Earth to Jack?” Comes Brendon’s voice from beside him, and Jack finally registers the hand that’s been waving in front of his face, trying to catch his attention, and reluctantly tears his eyes away from Alex to look expectantly at his partner. “We kind of need to start today, dude.”
“Right, sorry, God. I was totally spacing out.” Brendon raises an eyebrow and smirks, and Jack pretends not to notice.
They’re packing up at the end of class when it happens. Brendon is chattering happily away in Jack’s ear as Jack picks up the tray of test tubes to put them back in the drawer, and later, later Jack would blame Brendon for distracting him, say that’s how it happened. Later still, he’d say it was fate and that God had meant for it to happen, and Alex would just laugh and accuse him of being a big dumb dramaqueen clutz.
But in reality, what happens is this. Alex pulls his bag onto his back, laughing at something that weird kid with the scarves, Ryan, has just said, and Jack can’t hear what he’s saying, but suddenly Alex is looking right at him and his eyes are bright and warm and Jack vaguely remembers thinking oh, fuck, before he drops the tray of test tubes.
There’s a massive smash, and the class all turn to look at him. Jack feels himself flushing furiously. “Oops.”
Jack has to stay behind with a dustpan and brush when the bell goes, Brendon leaving with a promise to save his seat on the bench, and falls to his knees with a sigh. It could have been worse, he thinks, as he sets to work. He didn’t get yelled at or anything, and didn’t even get detention. “Accidents happen,” the teacher had said gravely, handing him the broom before leaving too. So now Jack is alone in the Chemistry room, left to clear up the pieces and contemplate the tragedy of his life in terms of metaphors involving smashed test tubes.
Until he realises he isn’t alone.
Alex wears a pair of black, beaten up Converse sneakers to school every day. He wears them every day, and Jack totally hasn’t noticed because he totally hasn’t been staring. But Alex wears them every day, and he’s wearing them today, because they’re the shoes Jack sees from his crouched position on the floor and they’re Alex’s legs, and shit, shit shit shit shit, that’s totally Alex standing over him.
“Um...” Jack says, looking up through his eyelashes, and raising his eyebrows.
Alex has his arms crossed and his hip cocked out to the side, and he’s wearing those beaten up Converses and an angry frown. “Why do you keep glaring at me?”
Jack has learnt, over the years, to Not Care. Life, and more importantly, high school, has taught Jack this skill, and it's got him so far in life. The trick is to never let anyone know you care, be cool. Let people like you more than you like them. That's how he gets invited to all the parties, get asked out by all the girls.
So when Alex is standing over Jack, tapping his Converse clad foot and raising an eyebrow impatiently, Jack should let it go.
Jack should say, "Sorry. I'll stop." Jack should say, "Dude, what the fuck, I haven't." Jack should say, "Hi! I'm Jack." Jack means to say anything, anything at all that isn't what he does say. And what he says is,
"Because, fuck you, that's why."
And basically it’s all downhill from there.
--
That night, Jack logs onto his computer as he’s curled up in bed and opens a google search. He types “how come some people just piss you off for no reason,” and taps his fingers impatiently, scrolling through the 77 million results before realising that he’s being an idiot, slamming the screen shut and rolling over to sleep.
He dreams of caramel coloured hair and a contagious laugh and strong, tanned arms around him.
He wakes up even angrier than he was before.
♠ ♠ ♠
Okay so I've no idea where I'm going with this I've never written a fic before I just have loads of Jalex feels and thought i'd give it a shot lol please be gentle with me