Happy Anniversary.

If a significantly amazing thing happens at the same time a significantly horrible thing happens, does that mean the said moment is averaged out or both amazing and horrible at the same time? In my experience, I'd say it's the latter, because there was positively nothing average about the spectacular miracle of Jack Barakat. Throughout the past two weeks, since the very first message I sent to him, nearly eighty percent of the thoughts I've had have been consumed by his two-toned hair and enthralling smile.
The other twenty percent of my thoughts, however, had not been as kind to me. A bald spot on the side of my head from repeated pulling and tugging had recently become evident. Not for the first time was I thankful that my school was one of the few that allowed their students to wear hats throughout the school day. Along with that, my forearms were paying as much as my hair was. They were so full of cuts, burns, and scratches that I would soon have to move to my thighs to cut. It seemed like I couldn't have even a moment of happiness without it being accompanied by ten moments of pain and sadness. I could never tell if that one moment was worth it, but even if it wasn't, I couldn't help but come back to it with no regrets.
A wad of paper hit the base of my neck, knocking me out of my thoughts of a certain brown-eyed boy. Turning around, I was met by the laughing faces of Mike and his two accomplices, Jaime and Tony. Mike's eyes had an evil glint in them. "Something wrong, Gaskarth?" He asked innocently, his smile half-crooked.
My eyes narrowed. "Not a thing, Fuentes." Today's third period class was the worst. Rian was absent, spending the day was Oli and Josh, helping them set up for the party that started tonight and surely wouldn't end until sometime tomorrow night. That left me alone with Mike, Jaime, Tony, and Vic. Vic and I had worked out some of our problems, but we still weren't on the best of terms.
"I'm just trying to look out for you, Alex. I want to make sure you're okay." He had said to me when I ran into him last week.
"R-Right, and I appreciate it, but I don't need you to look out for me."
"I understand, but it doesn't seem like anyone else is." I agreed with him there, but once again told him he didn't have to look out for me. To this, his disagreed.
"Look, Vic. Do whatever you want. Look out for me, ignore me; I don't really care. Just don't bring it up around me or anyone else. Ever."
"No promises."
That was the best arrangement we could work out. There was still tension between us, but it was nothing compared to what was there before.
Now, sitting in class, my eyes met Vic's as he looked suspiciously between Mike and myself. Don't worry about it, I mouthed to him sternly. He looked at us once more before pursing his lips in thought, nodding, and turning his attention back to the lecture we were currently supposed to be taking notes on. I watched Vic pull out his phone, something he never did in class, and type something into it before sliding it back into his front pocket. My phone went off not a minute later.
You coming to the party tonight?
Of course I am. There'll be alcohol. I responded. I saw Vic flinch as his phone went off and reach into his pocket to retrieve it. I swear I saw him roll his eyes before replying.
Be careful. Once I received the text, I sent a glare Vic's way. Seriously, he mouthed.
Vic, we talked about this. I don't want you on my ass.
Trust me, I don't want to be on your ass; that's what I have Kellin for ;) I choked back a surprised laugh, unable to keep it from fully escaping and capturing the attention of my other classmates and teacher, Ms. McDougall.
"Alex, something you'd like to share with the class?" She smirked, gesturing to my phone.
"No, ma'am!" I exclaimed cheekily.
Her eyes turned to slits. "Then why don't you return to today's class, and I want a two page summary on my desk Monday when we come back from break on the topic of my lecture." I groaned internally. Ms. McDougall was infamous for being tough on students who texted in class. This was the first I had ever gotten caught before, so I assumed she would let me off easily. Of course not.
I slouched in my seat and crossed my arms, once again glaring at Vic and very discreetly flipping him off. He stuck his tongue out at me in retaliation. Daringly, I sent him one more text before actually paying attention to Ms. McDougall for the first time this semester.
Your notes better be in my bag by the end of the period.
~~~~~
Jack's POV.
"But Zackkkkkkkkk!" I whined. It was childish, sure, but then again, that was one of the only words you could use to accurately describe me almost 100% of the time. "I don't want to go to some stupid party." Zack, who just happened to be the only person who bothered to put up with my brattiness most of the time, slapped me softly, knocking my pouting expression to one of mock hurt. "Ow! What the fuck, man?"
"Oh, shut up already. It's Hallo's Eve, and you're going to have a good time whether you want to or not." He explained for the hundredth time while deciding what shirt to wear. Zack rarely made me go to his stupid parties, but he was sure this was going to be the party of the year and he had it in his mind that I would have terrible regrets if I didn't attend it with him. In all honestly, all I wanted to do was stay home and mope. Alex wasn't going to be able to Skype with me tonight for unspecified reasons, and I was perfectly content with staying home fantasizing about the blond, beanie-wearing boy, my dates being my hand and a bottle of lube. But no, that just wouldn't do, not if Zack had anything to say about it.
I wasn't exactly sure how Zack and I have been friends for so long. He was popular, I was not. His body could make anyone swoon - whether gay or straight, male or female - and mine was mediocre at best. He could get any guy - minus the one he wanted - and I couldn't get one. I was extra weight tied to Zack's side.
"It's just going to be a bunch of straight drunk girls hitting on me because they can't see straight enough to realize it's me." I complained, because that's all that ever happened to me at these parties. They were all the same in this town, and no amount of alcohol would ever change that. Nothing interesting or special ever occurred for me at these parties.
Zack laid a hand on my cheek, staring into my eyes. If someone were to watch our interactions for a day, they would probably think we're in a relationship together. However, I was...I don't know what I was with Alex, and Zack was lusting after a guy he would never get. "But Jacky...You never know what will happen if you never go to a party, and I need a wingman!" He implored, even going as far as to get on his knees, holding my hand in front of him. "Please, please, please, come with me. We haven't hung out in forever. You've been too busy with your boy to have time for me..." Now he was just trying to make me feel bad, puppy-dog eyes and all. I knew he was just going to spend the entire night flirting with Rian, the guy he's been crushing on since we were in eighth grade nearly four years ago, but if he was this desperate for me to go, how could I not say yes?
"Fuck you, Zack. Fine."
He squealed, actually fucking squealed, and jumped up, kissing me on the cheek. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you! Now get dressed, we leave in half an hour!"
"I'm wearing your clothes!" I always looked better when I wore his stuff, and if he was making me go, even if no one would be looking at me, I was looking dead sexy.
Forty five minutes later, I was pacing in front of the door, waiting for Zack. I ended up wearing a white Glamour Kills t-shirt of his and a pair of black skinny jeans. The outfit, paired with my faded green hoodie and black and white converse didn't look half bad. "Hurry the hell up, Zack! The party's starting without us."
"It's always okay to be a little fashionably late, Jacky." He purred as he bounded down the stairs in a pale blue tank top that complimented his skin perfectly and tight shorts that made his ass look outstanding. If I wasn't talking to Alex, Zack would have been perfectly bangable. "Do these jeans make my ass look fat?"
I rolled my eyes. Zack could be so...gay. "No, you look fine. Now if you don't get in the damn car in the next five minutes, I will take your car and go home and spend my night watching reruns of Supernatural."
He gasped. "You wouldn't dare."
I smirked and grabbed Zack's keys laying by the front door, jingling them in his face. "Try me." In seconds Zack was buckling up in the passenger's seat and yelling at me to hurry up. The nerve of that boy...
Zack spent the entire ride blasting the loud, poppy music he knew I hated, explaining that it would get me "in the mood". In the mood for what, I'm not sure. He almost caused me to get into an accident by serenading me and simultaneously grinding on me. By the time we arrived, I was thanking the gods that this Oli guy only lived ten minutes away from Zack, or about three ear-splitting, brain killing songs. Before I even fully stopped the car, Zack was out and saying hi to friends, a beer in hand.
Quickly parking the car, I jumped out and ran after Zack. "Remember, you're the designated driver tonight!" I told him, winking as he flipped me off. If he was dragging me here and requiring that I stay until he was ready to go, I was getting at least some fun out of tonight.
Losing Zack and all the liquid in my first can of beer within five minutes of arriving, I made my way through the maze of people to find the kitchen. The house was filled with the smell of pot and I was nearly high just from breathing it in. The smoke was so think that I could barely see my hand in front of me and the crowd of already sweaty bodies was just making the house even warmer. Half the people in the house had already lost their shirts; even some of the ladies were topless, much to the liking of the dateless guys on the sidelines, hugging the walls with alcohol as their only friends. Looks like I've found my place for the night.
Finally reaching the kitchen, much emptier than the rest of the place, surprisingly, I grabbed the first bottle containing alcohol I found, not caring enough to check the label. Filling a Solo cup half full of the dark substance, I chugged it before going for another cupful, repeating the process one more time before throwing the cup away. That's enough for now.
Stumbling back into the packed living room, it wasn't long before I found myself needing the bathroom. Making my way to the stairs as gracefully as possible - which only included falling over my feet once, and once more going up the stairs - I collapsed onto the door that had a sign reading "This is the bathroom, bitches!" at the top of the stairway. "Open uffh; Gotta pissh" I slurred loudly. The opposite side of the door was silent, much to my dismay. I swear, if locking the bathroom door and sneaking out the window was someone's idea of a joke...
Thankful that my inhibitions hadn't totally left me yet, I pulled one of May's bobby pins from my jacket pocket that she put there who knows how long ago and picked the lock. The sight I was met with was enough for me to sober me up faster than I thought would be possible.
There in front of me laid the boy I'd dedicated most of my free time talking to and/or thinking about, passed out and drunk. Next to him lay a broken bottle of beer, the contents surrounding him on the ground. It was my best guess that he had alcohol poisoning. I screamed as loud as I could for help, for someone to call 911, while I bent down to make sure he was still breathing.
On his light gray hoodie, fresh red blood was beginning to seep through the sleeves.