pt1: eighteen

Travis hated senior year. The rush to study, to apply for colleges, to continue working to get the hell out dodge and finally get away. If there was anything Travis was good at, it was keeping focused on his part time job instead of his school work, choosing to forgo turning in homework to stand behind that stupid soft serve counter.

Travis had expected Jacob to run off just like Blake or Oliver had, but he didn't, and that hurt all the more. Travis could live with never seeing another friend again, to live with the hole left in his chest, except he did see him; they passed each other in the hall, in the cafeteria at lunch, but they never once talked, so Travis was forced to confront his sense of loss and loneliness.

The fact Jacob was ignoring him hurt more than if he disappeared. If he disappeared Travis could pretend he'd never been there in the first place, and it wouldn't hurt as bad. But Jacob had been there, and he hadn't disappeared, and he never looked twice at his former best friend, at his summer fling, at the boy he abandoned because he was scared.

One night, when he couldn't fall asleep, Travis wondered if that was the same way his mom felt about him, if she looked at him and thought the man that left them, if she looked at him and missed her son because he didn't reach out. It was a painful thought. 

Travis blinks. “What do you want to do with your life?” The guidance counselor was asking. He figured she was normally more formal, but she looked like she could use a nap on the cot in the corner of her office. She also looked fed up, with Travis's lack of interest or grades, he did not know.

Travis shrugged. The counselor leaned back in her chair, hands folded on her desk. Travis flicked his eyes to the nameplate on her desk, and then back to her face. She didn't look old, maybe mid-40s, much too young to look so tired so yearly into the school year. 

“There's gotta be something that you want to pursue,” she pushed, and sighed when Travis didn't answer. “What kind of things do you like?” she asked, reaching to her desk to take a sip of coffee, no doubt full of that migraine powder adults were so fond of.

Travis shrugged. “I guess I like books, collecting records and CDs n’ s**t.” Travis winced, looking apologetic. “Sorry,” he murmured, looking down. 

“It's fine,” she chuckled. “Continue?” 

“I dunno,” Travis drawled. “My school friends are always giving me CDs n’ mix-tapes n’ rolls of film, and it's fun to collect. I like reading books from my dad, and working.” 

The counselor sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Will you tell me something from your childhood?” she asked, returning her hand to her lap. 

Travis thought for a moment. Where could he begin? “When I was fifteen my best friend died in a car accident,” he decided, watching the flash of recognition in her face. No one ever really forgot about Zoe Bell’s death. 

“Can you tell me more?” The counselor asked, leaning forward on her chair, looking as interested as she could despite the clear exhaustion in her face.  

“My mom made me go to therapy,” Travis shrugged. “That was it.”

“Travis, there's gotta be something here I can work on.” The counselor almost sounded ready to cry. Travis wondered how many teens she dealt with a day that were exactly like him.

Travis sighed, and threw his head back. “I remember thinking, ‘this lady doesn't know what I'm talking about. She's just pretending she does.’” Travis looked back at the counselor, eyebrow raised, and she sighed with relief. 

“Have you thought about being a therapist?” She laughed and shook her head. “Who am I kidding, of course you haven't.” She looked at him, and tapped her pointer finger on her desk. “Would you want to be?” 

“I dunno,” Travis answered. “I've always liked psychology, I guess, but it always got swept to the side.”

"Why's that?” 

Travis shrugged. “I was always too busy with school, or friends, or work.” 

The counselor smiled. “Come back to me when you've decided.” 

Travis moved to the door, and stopped with his hand on the handle. 

“Miss Perry?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Take a nap on your cot. You can say you're still talking to me.”

She laughed. 

Travis did come back, the very next day. Ms. Perry made a remark about how fast he decided. He only laughed and told her to take another nap. Travis didn't miss the affectionate way she shooed him away, chuckled as he left. Travis went to his next class with a grin on his normally stoic face.

After that, Ms. Perry and her two kids came to see Travis at his work every Friday. 

Travis always gave her and the kids an extra scoop. She always gave him the same mean looks parents gave him, but he knew she was only joking, and would smile as soon as she turned away. 

Travis still hung out with his normal friends at lunch, even though Blake was gone. He knew they wouldn't let him back away, would force him to be close to them. Blake disappearing was a sore spot for all of them, Travis especially. They all had known about Blake and Travis, because Blake went from hanging out with them every day, to always saying he was with Travis. 

Its not like they ever tried to hide it anyway.

None of them were bitter about it. In fact, they were happy for Travis, when the two had first started going out, but now the group held a poorly concealed sense of grief.

Travis’s upper half was sprawled on the lunch table, arms hanging limp beside him. “What are you guys doing after high school?” He asked, voice muffled by his cheek pressed into the desk.

“I'm gonna go to beauty college and work at my moms salon.” Luci, one of Travis's favorites out of all them, said. 

Chloe, who was sitting beside him, began running her fingers through Travis's hair. Chloe was an affectionate person, and if it was anyone else doing this, Travis would've shouted. In a way, she reminded him of Zoe. “I'm gonna go into fashion,” she said, voice soft and affectionate.

Luci swatted Chloe's hand, and snapped at her to stop touching people without their permission. “He likes it though,” Chloe whined, returning her hands to Travis’s hair. 

Travis laughed. “I don't mind.” Travis felt warm inside when he saw Chloe smile from the corner of his eye.   

“‘M gonna work with my dad at his auto shop,” Jonas spoke up from the other side of the table. Those three were the only ones who ever really ate with Travis. The rest went outside and smoked.  

They were the closest Travis had to real friends anymore. 

“You should go to a college in the city with me,” Chloe chimed, moving her hands to cup Travis's neck, kneading gently at the tension present.

“I wouldn't mind that,” he muttered. When the bell rang, Luci stood up, and kissed Chloe and Travis on the cheeks. “Don't stay too long,” she said, resting her hand on Travis's shoulder. Travis sat up, the two girl's hands slipping off him.

“I know,” Chloe chimed, craning her neck up to press a kiss to Luci’s mouth. Travis wasn't sure if Luci and Chloe were dating, but it was likely they just did so because Chloe liked contact so much. “Have you been sleeping?” she asked Travis, tracing the bags under his eyes with her thumbs. she cupped his cheeks, moving his head from side to side.

“Not really,” Travis murmured, closing his eyes and leaning into her touch.

Chloe sighed, and leaned her head on his shoulder. “Do you wanna come over to my place tonight?” she asked, voice slightly muffled by his shirt. 

“Sure. I can drive you home.” 

Chloe smiled against him. “I'd like that.” 

When they stood up, Chloe stood on her tiptoes, the toes of her knee high Converse hitting Travis's own Converse, and dragged Travis down to peck his lips. They were both late to class, but it was OK. It's not like either of them came to class on time anyway.

Travis didn’t see Chloe again until school got out. She was waiting for him, leaning on his car, messing with the holes in her ripped up tights. She grinned widely, and climbed into his car without a word.

Chloe sat around Travis’s work, sitting on the counter and kicking her torn up converse, which were worse for the wear from Chloe's endeavors with DIY. She'd embroiders sequins and song lyrics in them, and had poorly drawn smiley faces on the soles.

She laughed when adults gave her mean looks through the window, and leaned back on the counter, pink hair fanning behind her. She beamed up at Travis, and he couldn't help but smile back.

Chloe hummed on the drive to her place, what she was humming Travis wasn’t quite sure. She’d slipped her hand into Travis’s free one, and was talking about how she’d give him a manicure. Travis almost started to regret going with her. He told her this. 

She smiled and kissed his hand, placing it in her lap to carefully trace the lines of his palm.

Chloe’s room was… busy. She had a wooden bunk bed on the right wall, for what purpose Travis didn’t know. She said she’d slept on it with her brother, and couldn’t bring herself to get a new bed. Travis didn’t question why. 

Her walls were filled with movie posters and Polaroid photos. When Travis wasn’t looking, she took one of him and pinned it on the wall near her bed. “Everyone I love goes where I sleep,” she said, looking lovingly at the photos on her wall. 

Travis only smiled and kissed her head, hairspray permeating his senses.

Travis threw his school bag on the ground, and Chloe promptly guided him to her bed, sitting him there and gushing over how bad his hair looked. Travis thought this was hilarious.

When Travis drove her to school the next morning, his hair was freshly cut, discreet raccoon tails in his hair. Chloe had promised the dye would fade soon, but Travis doubted that.

That school year, Chloe did not leave. She did not die in a car accident, nor leave in the middle of the night, nor stop talking to him.

They began dating two weeks after Travis’s impromptu sleepover. 

Chloe still kissed Luci on the lips every time they said goodbye, but that was okay with Travis. All that mattered to him was that he got a kiss too. When he said this, he got one from both Luci and Chloe. 

When Travis started dating Chloe, he said right off the bat, “I can’t love only you. Not like that.” 

Chloe kissed his cheek and said, “That’s okay. I can’t love only you either.” She smiled and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his mouth. 

Travis slept over at Chloe’s so much, her parents started setting a place for him after dinner.

Her mom and dad were nice, and completely okay with Travis practically living there. When he met them they’d said, “As long as you don’t have sex with our daughter when we’re home, you’re good to stay here as long as you want.” 

Later that night Chloe said, “My parents were hippies.” That suddenly made a lot of sense to Travis. He told her this, and she laughed that pretty laugh of hers. He kissed her stupid that night. 

It didn’t escape Travis the way Jacob looked at him and Chloe. One day, when Jacob got out of basketball practice, Travis cornered him. He backed him up against a wall, ignored the butterflies in his stomach, and said, “Keep away from me and Chloe.”

Jacob continued to think about how he and Travis were almost equal in height for weeks afterwards. Jacob wondered what Travis would look like over him, under him. That winter, Jacob only continued to ignore the two, looking at Travis longingly when he wasn't looking.

Travis was more than overjoyed to announce that he got accepted into Boston University, for psychology of course. When Travis told Ms. Perry the news, she hugged him. That was more of a response than his mother had given him. Travis didn't tell his friends.

That same winter, Jonas was hospitalized. When Travis, Chloe, and Luci went to visit him, all he had to say was, “Cancer.” Chloe was upset he hadn’t told them. Travis was in shock, as one might expect.

Travis had figured Jonas had shaved his head for fashion reasons, just to fit into his title as the school punk. That night he cried in Chloe’s arms, asking why he hadn’t questioned it sooner. Chloe had nothing to say.

Travis visited Jonas alone later that week. He sat at Jonas’s bedside, hands covering his eyes and said. “I can’t lose someone else.” Jonas laughed at that. His voice was scratchy, lips chapped. Travis wanted to scream. 

“You won’t lose me,” Jonas promised, taking Travis’s wrist and holding his hand. “It’s thyroid cancer. If I keep treatment up I’ll probably go into remission,” Jonas smiled. He lifted Travis's hand to his mouth, kissing it, then set it in his lap.

Travis wiped tears off his face, mustering a smile. “If you die, Heaven better have maximum security to keep me from finding you.” 

Jonas choked out a laugh. “Bold of you to assume I’m going to heaven.” He lifted a hand and wiped a tear from Travis’s face as they laughed. 

Before Travis left that day, Jonas kissed him on the mouth. “I felt left out when Luci n’ Chloe kissed you but not me,” he laughed. 

Travis kissed him two more times. “From the girls,” he whispered.

Jonas died the next week. The doctors told them Jonas didn’t have thyroid cancer, but rather leukemia. 

Travis threw up on the waiting room floor. 

That night, he took a knife to his thigh again. Chloe found him passed out in his bathtub, box cutter still by his side the next morning. 

Travis didn’t go to school or work for nearly a month, completely unable to leave his bed more often than not.

During that month, Travis attended Jonas's funeral, Chloe and Luci at his side. He hadn’t gotten to do that for Zoe. He hadn’t been able to. She had a private funeral, her parents not even inviting him or her other friends.

After the funeral, Jonas's parents approached the three of them. They handed each a letter, their names on their respective envelopes. and left without a word. Travis wondered if they had gotten their own letters. Travis hoped so. 

Travis didn’t read the letter until his second year of college. Chloe never told him what was in hers, and he didn’t ask. 

The day after the funeral, Ms. Perry came to Travis's house. She let him cry in her arms until he couldn’t cry anymore. That night, she made him spaghetti, made sure he ate, and promised to come back tomorrow. 

She did. Travis loved her for it. 

A week after Travis went back to school, Chloe broke up with him. They vowed to stay friends. They never really acted any differently when they were dating. He and Chloe probably would’ve had sex without getting together anyway.

Travis knew that it was something in Jonas’s letter that made her break up with him. He wasn’t really hurt by the break up, even though she hadn’t really told him why. 

She'd dragged him to his car immediately after, and promised to ride him until the bell rang or he came, whichever came first.

A week after, Chloe was dating Luci. She and Travis still hooked up sometimes, in the back of his car or in the storage room of his work. “Luci knows,” Chloe had said the first time. “She's all for it,” she shrugged, kissing Travis from where she straddled him. 

Travis thought that was kinda hot. He told her that. 

She laughed and kissed his neck. 

Nothing really changed between the three of them.

Travis, Chloe, and Luci all graduated June tenth. Chloe started looking for places in New York City, and Travis reluctantly told her he wouldn’t be going to New York with her. That was okay with her. 

Before they all went their separate ways, Chloe threw Travis a giant 18th birthday party. “You only turn eighteen once,” she said with a smile and a kiss. 

When Chloe left for New York, he promised to call her every Saturday night. He did. They would later meet up in either Boston or New York every summer. 

He and Chloe never hooked up again, but that was OK for both of them. They had an unspoken agreement that they were only using each other anyway; only filling the hole of loneliness and hurt with physical need.

One night, Travis lay awake staring at his ceiling, and thought of Jacob. The memory of their hookup last summer had never left Travis's mind, not really. It stayed there lingering; the shame of cheating on Blake, the joy of his friend being so close to him once more for one more night, the rush of Jacob's mouth on him, those feelings forever engraved in the back of his mind.

Travis missed Jacob. This was an undeniable fact, a lurking feeling, a longing so strong but so repressed.

Travis figured he was in love with Jacob, or as close as to love as he had been since Oliver.

No. That wasn't right. Travis shook his head, running his hands down his face, mind spinning.

Travis thought back, of the softness he had reserved for Jacob, so long before Oliver, of the sleepovers and gently holding Jacob after his dad hit him, of wiping his tears away and whispering words of comfort.

Travis felt sick. He continued to think nonetheless, of their kiss on a dare, of the butterfly's in Travis's stomach, of the fact that that, was his favorite memory of kissing anybody in his eighteen years of life.

He thought of all the loving touches, of the affectionate teasing, of the closeness they shared before Travis fell in love�"no�", became infatuated, obsessed with Oliver.

Travis sobbed into his pillow, pain in his chest and discomfort in his gut overwhelming him.

"It was always him," he whispers, curling onto his side. Travis continues to mutter those words, those forgotten words, those forced realizations until he passes out.

Travis threw himself back into his revelations the next morning, looking past the glances he'd cast his old friend's way, the way Jacob would brush against him in the crowded hallways, despite there being so many others to shoulder past, to the looks of longing Jacob had cast at him, to the hard way Travis had looked back at him, obsession with Oliver so strong he had been cruel, cold.

He went to Jacob’s house one day, when he knew Jacob would be out with his friends, and snuck into his room, climbing in through the teen's window, as he might've if Jacob was the one Travis snuck around for, rather than Oliver.

Jacob nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Travis stretched languidly on his bed, watching Jacob with half closed eyes. Jacob laughed coldly, putting his fist against his forehead, and leaning against the doorway.

“Why did you stop talking to me?” Travis asked, standing up. Jacob swallowed nervously, and closed his bedroom door, awkwardly putting his bag on the ground.

“I'm not sure,” he muttered, looking down. Travis scoffed, knowing he was avoiding the truth.

“What was it?” He asked, pacing around Jacob's room, hand’s fidgeting nervously. “Did they start calling you gay? A f****t?” He demanded, head whipping up to Jacob, meeting his gaze.

Jacob looked ready to cry. “No,” he mumbled, turning away from Travis. he walked to the desk and rearranged the items set on it. 

“You don’t talk to me for over a year and then you’re at my work every day, you’re giving me a blowjob in a closet, drunk out of your f*****g mind, telling me to break up with my boyfriend." Travis stopped walking. “I don't get you,” he whispered, looking down. 

“I missed you every day,” Jacob murmured, not turning around. 

“Then why didn’t you talk to me?” Travis cried. “Why not say anything, when the guy I was obsessed with left? Why not talk to me the entire school year after my best friend died? Why not say anything all last summer until you cornered me in a closet?”

Jacob spun around. “Because I was jealous, okay?!” He shouted, finally making eye contact with Travis. "Because I was just a boy and I was gay and my dad and his friends would kill me!"

Travis hesitated for a second, and began crying. “I missed you so much,” Travis sobbed, covering his eyes with his hands, “and you never once did anything but stare at me.”

Jacob dragged Travis into his arms, and ignored the way Travis stiffened. “It hurt,” Jacob whispered, burying his face in Travis's hair, gripping on to him. “It hurt so bad.” 

Travis pulled away. “Imagine how bad it must hurt getting abandoned by everyone you love!” He searched Jacob’s face. 

“I didn't mean to hurt you,” Jacob whispered. “It just hurt so bad to pretend to be your friend, to look at you completely enamored with Oliver, and then Blake, then Chloe.” It was Jacob's turn to cry now, quietly. 

"You were always on my mind," Travis murmured, voice muffled. "Always." Travis allowed himself to hug Jacob back, sliding his arms around the other boys waist.

It hurt Jacob to feel Travis melt into his body, but also filled him with a sense of peace. Jacob didn’t have to bend far to bury his face against Travis's neck. 

“I love you,” he whispered against Travis's skin, and Travis fell silent. “I always have. Since we were kids.”

Travis raised his head and kissed him then. It was slow, meaningful, nothing like their kiss in the closet. Jacob let his hands drift to Travis’s waist, pulling him closer. Jacob reveled in the way Travis ran his hands through Jacob’s hair, slipping his tongue into Jacob’s mouth. 

Jacob wasn’t sure how long they stood there until Travis drew away. Jacob was disappointed, thinking he was about to say they made a mistake, but felt something warm spread through him when Travis fell to Jacob's bed with a sigh, curling up onto his side. Jacob silently laid behind him, arms wrapped around Travis's waist and nose buried in his hair.

Travis whispered three words then, feeling nothing like that soft resignment he'd felt when he said the same three words to Oliver.

Travis felt hungry, greedy, warm. He felt longing and sadness, and for the first time in a long time, contentedness.

He repeated those words, chasing the warm high of Jacob pressed up against him, lovingly stroking his skin, and whispering "I love you's" back.

Mrs. Lewinsky was unsurprised to open Jacob’s door to find him wrapped around Travis, day clothes exchanged for what Jacob considered pajamas.

Jacob and Travis moved into a studio apartment overlooking the street together, patiently waiting for uni to start. They carved out a life there, both of them bringing home random little things they found in thrift stores or on errands.

One night, when they were laying in bed together, did Travis dare ask how Jacob had known what college to apply for. Jacob had laughed, and said,“Your mom called after you got your letter and told me.” 

Travis supposed maybe his mom wasn’t so bad after all. He still didn't talk to her until he finished his first year of uni. They still never really fixed their relationship. Neither of them ever really tried. 

There was always time though, there would always be time.