Chapter Text
Jack made his first ever real friend at the age of 14. It was in a mandatory fall health class that revealed little but abstinence and the importance of condoms. He was sat next to Roger Williams, a dark-eyed boy about his age, and they weren’t exactly paying close attention to what the professor was saying. Instead, they doodled on their notebooks and showed each other the drawings.
When they were called out by a teacher’s pet in the row behind them, they were sent to the office of the school principal: gray, cramped, and almost neater than the principal himself. They were allowed to return to class later that period, but Roger was in his old seat, and Jack was in a new one on the other side of the hall.
This time around, they did pay attention to the lectures - only, they would peer between other students’ heads periodically to find each others’ eyes and jointly snicker at the few more detailed parts of the lesson. The professor didn’t catch on, so this became their routine for the rest of the term: sit, turn, laugh, turn back before anyone noticed.
Neither knew it then, but Roger Williams was Jack’s first crush: the dark-eyed boy with advanced humor, a knack for drawing, and a mole on the side of his cheek.
The spring term was rougher for both of them. Jack watched from afar as Roger’s grades got worse and worse, and the bullying took a violent turn. Roger’s default state was now crammed into the locker of a classmate. Jack would have offered help, but he had his own troubles; they came in the form of a golden-haired girl named Stacy Smith.
Jack liked the way her pale face wrinkled when she smiled. He liked the way her name fit in his mouth, the alliteration and the vowels. He liked the way she didn’t turn around when people insulted her, or catcalled her, or tapped her on the shoulder.
This, he felt, was a proper crush: a crush like the ones he learned about from his older brother. A man falling hard for a woman. Stacy Smith was his second crush, the golden-haired girl with wide-set eyes, an angel’s laugh, and an unexpected love of all things vampire-related.
They sat together in Spanish class. For each written assignment, Stacy would first complete the writing, then flip the page and begin a miniature study of vampires. It was strange, but Jack liked it; she was unique. She didn’t seem like the girls he passed in the hallway who’d point and stare at whatever poor kid happened to be walking past. She wasn’t soulless, and she wasn’t afraid to laugh and yell and cry.
In April, Roger tried to kill himself.
It was a soggy afternoon, he heard. Clouds were so dark that they didn’t even look like clouds anymore. Roger tied a long string out of old shoelaces and took the blue stepstool from his bathroom. No one really wanted to continue the story after that.
But what Jack didn’t notice until after the fact was that as Jack ignored him, Roger’s drawings were getting more and more violent. A mid-sex ed doodle of Jack’s dog and a butterfly turned into a wolf clawing at a bird; an art class painting of a gathering of people turned into a fight; a self-portrait was modified to include blood trickling from his orifices.
Now, Jack pieced together all the signs and all the warnings he missed while he was preoccupied with his infatuation with Stacy. The kids from his sex ed class stared at him in the hallway, wondering what he thought of his friend’s suicide attempt. Roger didn’t even look at him anymore afterwards.
The feeling of watching eyes was his enemy for the final two months of the year. His grades slipped, and all he could do was watch and hope his earlier A’s could sustain a good score. Stacy drifted further away from him - now she was quieter, laughed less, and hung around with the popular kids, the same kids who pushed Roger into their lockers.
So he transferred schools. The boarding school wasn’t horribly far, just around two hours north of Jack’s prior school. It was boys-only and had a large campus with shared dormitories. His parents picked it out for him, but he didn’t mind - he needed a change of pace, a life with a healthy amount of unknowns, and more than one friend. This was the best option to cover all three of his needs.
“Lion Hall!” The bearded, graying man checking Jack in smiled warmly. “That’s where I lived when I was your age. Alright, here’s your key,” he said, setting it aside. It shone a bit in the harsh light of the August sun. “So, keep following this pathway to your right. Lion Hall is the second hall down on your left.” He shook Jack’s hand firmly.
“Thank you, sir,” Jack said, taking the key from where the man had placed it down on the table.
“Of course, Jack,” he smiled again. “Enjoy your year.”
The noon was hot on Jack’s back, the beginnings of sweat dotting his forehead as he hoisted the duffel up a small set of stairs. “The people here seem nice,” his mum mused quietly. “Much nicer than that horrible principal back at Edwards.” Jack nodded. “I think you’ll really love it here, honey,” she continued, grabbing his spare hand. “I’ve written your dad with your new address, so I’m sure you’ll hear from him sooner or later.”
They made the left turn. Lion Hall was a tall, narrow building adorned with lion decorations: a lion banner, lion statues, and what looked like stuffed lion toys sitting on the windowsills of some of the rooms.
“Okay, sweets,” his mom said, giving him a side-hug, which became a full hug after a few seconds. “I’ll come visit in a few weeks,” she said, letting go to rearrange his hair slightly. “Make sure to be nice to all the boys. Make lots of friends, okay? I don’t want you to be all lonely.”
“Don’t worry, mum,” Jack smiled, “I’ll be good.”
“That’s my boy,” she crooned, giving him another short hug. “I love you, Jack. See you soon.”
“Love you, bye,” he replied, giving her a last wave as he carried the duffel, which was feeling heavier by the second, up the initial steps to the building.
The floors were a beautiful dark wood, and were carpeted in the center of each pathway. The walls were also wooden, and carved out into pillars adorned with lion heads near the ceiling. It was mostly empty apart from a grand stairwell that seemed to form a spring shape, circling up through multiple floors.
Jack began trudging up the stairs, stopping at the first floor to regain some breath. He decided to power through the last two segments of the stairwell, clutched the duffel as tight as possible, and practically ran up to his floor. There was a tiny sign hanging on the wall with two arrows. He turned left and began walking down the corridor.
Noise radiated from within each room as he passed the wooden doors, the duffel making the journey seem endless, before he stopped at his own.
Right. Here goes.
Jack turned the lion-imprinted doorknob and opened the door swiftly. Hearing a yelp and a soft thud, he peered around the door to see a golden-haired boy fallen on the floor.
“Fuck,” Jack said, mouth agape.