pt2: sixteen

Jacob did not love Mikaela. Hell, he didn't even like her, not that she needed to know that. Not that she did know that. Jacob considered her as a means to an end; a way to keep his father off his back, to make his Ma' happy when Mikaela came over, to cover up the slurs and sneers whispered behind his back in the locker room.

Jacob was, surprisingly, not liked by the basketball team. His teammates hated him, not for any good reason, of course. They disliked him because he was better than them. Jacob wasn't necessarily aware of this, but there was an itch in the back of his mind that agreed when the words were whispered.

Jacob had been changing, slipping his jersey over his head and replacing it with a t-shirt. It didn't escape him that there were eyes on his back, but he chose to ignore them. Neil and Chris were beside him, happily chattering about their respective girlfriends, completely oblivious to the stares the trio attracted.

Jacob glanced over his shoulder, trying to ascertain which a*****e it was this time. He wasted no time in shedding his shorts, the urge to get out crawling under his skin, the sweaty space suffocating him. He slipped out of the locker room, heading out to Neil's truck. He could always wait, even if Neil himself would loiter around gossiping.

The two followed out soon after, still talking. Jacob was leaning against the car, eyes closed, breath fogging around him. He inhaled once, eyes snapping open to meet his friend's. "I think I'm gonna quit the team," he said gruffly, going to the passenger side door.

Chris raised an eyebrow at this, but the two said nothing. Chris climbed into the backseat, settling into his usual spot on the middle of the bench. Chris had resigned himself to sitting in the back the day Neil was gifted his truck. When Chris was dropped off at home, and all that was left of him was the pungent smell of his cologne did Neil dare speak.

"Why're you quittin' the team?" Neil asked, eyes on the road.

"'M tired of guys staring at me," Jacob whispered.

Neil only hummed, not looking at Jacob. "Y'know why they do that, right?" Neil asked lowly. Jacob shook his head no, not that Neil needed a verbal answer, he was planning on continuing anyway.

"They look at you because they either think you're gay"�"Neil took a moment to make eye contact with Jacob�""or because they're gay for you." Jacob swallowed heavily, looking back at the seemingly endless stretch of road.

He mouthed an oh, and remained silent. Neil looked at his friend from the corner of his eye, then turned his gaze back to the road.

Jacob considered Neil's words in the shower that day. It made sense, that Jacob was desirable with both genders. He was tall for his age, naturally muscular, all thanks to his brute of a Da', yet classically handsome in that American way. He had Lottie to thank for that. Men and women alike tended to look at Jacob in… unsatisfying ways, and their lustful gazes were not new to him.

It also made sense they thought he was gay. Jacob was cold with Mikaela, just touchy enough to keep her happy, but little more. He was far more comfortable with his male friends than his own girlfriend.

He sighed, leaning his head against the shower wall. Jacob banged his head against it, once, twice, then once more for good measure.

Jacob forewent dinner with his mom that night. His head was swimming, filled with muddled thoughts that he didn't even comprehend. Lottie knocked on his door once, just to bring him painkillers and a cup of water. He took them with a halfhearted grin, purely to reassure his mother.

"Jacob, love, please take care of yourself," she'd whispered, giving her son a sad smile before closing the door.

That night, Jacob missed Travis. He also missed Blaine.

He missed Blaine, abusive and s****y as he was. He missed when Blaine was younger, when he would clutch Jacob to his chest and try to hide Garrett's mistreatment of their mother, whispering words of comfort in Jacob's ear.

But most of all, he missed Travis. He missed when Travis would sleep over and they both were young enough to sleep in Jacob's bed, to go under the covers and whisper secrets and to fall asleep facing each other. Jacob missed when they would sit at lunch and their elbows would brush because they were always so close.

Jacob felt a tear slip out of his eye, tracing its way down his face before sinking into the pillow.

Jacob went under the covers, just as he had with Travis so many years ago, trying to regain that sense of childlike joy that hiding with his best friend had once brought him, or the sense of safety that hiding with Blaine had given him.

God, Jacob missed Travis so much it physically hurt. He curled onto his side, pressing his crucifix to his mouth with one hand, worrying the ring on the chain with the other. Jacob let a sob slip out, and with it, a prayer to an unhearing God.

"Bring him back," he whispered, not knowing Jacob himself was the cause for his own agony.

Jacob supposed he should’ve known he was gay based on the fact he could never get it up when he had sex with Mikaela. At least, not unless he imagined she was a guy. Which he did often. A little too often. 

Or maybe the fact he would scroll through gay porn on his phone until 5 am on a school night. 

Or maybe the fact he had the tendency to stare at guys in the men’s locker room a little too long. 

Or maybe that whenever somebody mentioned love, he thought of Travis rather than Mikaela, as he was supposed to.

Jacob did not suppose any of these things. From an outsiders point of view, he was a little�" no�" very stupid, specifically when it came to himself. From Jacob's perspective, all of this was normal.

He did not know it was not, so as Jacob scrolled mindlessly through Instagram on his hand-me-down phone, he continued to tell himself that it was normal to linger on shirtless photos of random guys.

Jacob had been in the lunchroom, staring longingly at Travis. Friends from the basketball team were laughing, still accepting him into their group, despite his abrupt absence from the team. Neil was looking at Jacob, his friend oblivious to the concern in Neil's gaze. Neil needed this to stop already.

Jacob heard a sigh from beside him, refocusing his gaze to Neil. "Whats up?" he asked, putting a hand on Neil's shoulder.

"Nothin'," Neil laughed, putting his hands on the table, and standing. Jacob narrowed his eyes, but said nothing. Neil stalked out of the cafeteria, Chris following after the older boy. Jacob could hear Chris beg for an explanation, but knew his complaints fell on deaf ears.

Jacob hummed, twirling his fork through the cheap cafeteria food. Jacob's thoughts began to wander, but was interrupted by a guy�"Ryan�", leaning to him and whispering, "There's a new kid." Jacob raised an eyebrow, following Ryan's gaze to where a brunet boy sat.

He looked like Travis. So much so, in fact, that Jacob had to do a double take. "Do y'know his name?" Jacob rasped, feeling his voice shake slightly. That was… odd. Ryan made a face, but answered Jacob nonetheless.

"Everybody calls 'im Cook," Ryan shrugs. "No idea what his real name is." Jacob hummed, standing, bringing his lunch trash with him. He ignored Ryan's annoyed huff, and began stalking off, throwing his trash away before sitting at Cook's table.

"Hi," Jacob beamed, flashing his most friendly grin at the other boy. Cook looked up, an eyebrow raised and lip curled.

"Hi?" the other boy hesitated, brown hair flopping in his eyes. "Can I help you?" he continued, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. Jacob hummed at the sight, enjoying being able to see the boy's full face.

"I'm Jacob," he grinned, leaning forward, propping his head up on his fist.

Cook looked at him, gaze dropping back down to his food. "Cook," he answered gruffly.

"Hmm," Jacob trailed off, vying for Cook's attention. "That short for anything?" Jacob pressed. Cook huffed, lifting a mouthful of food to his lips. Jacob's gaze follows the motion, of how pretty Cook's mouth looked wrapped around the plastic fork. Cook swallowed, looking at Jacob, and Jacob's gaze flew back to Cook's eyes.

"No, its not," Cook answered, but Jacob doesn't hear. He is too busy lying to himself once more, too busy thinking about how those lips would feel on him, how pretty Cook's hazel eyes are, how completely normal it is for a straight man to feel this way.

Jacob hummed, oblivious to the fact Cook has begun to talk. "Sorry, what was that," Jacob smirked, laying his charm on thick.

Cook made a face, but continued, talking about the school and how it was oh so different from Detroit.

Neil drove Cook home with Jacob and Chris that night. The brunet took over Chris's seat in the middle, ignoring the blonds complaints, and Jacob just… let him.

Jacob continued to let Cook get away with things like this. He let the brunet worm his way into their group, let Cook cling to Jacob like a second skin, and he even began to let Cook make out with him against with walls, whispering afterwards that this was perfectly normal.

And Jacob just let him.

It did not start off so easy. It started off fast, of course it did, but easy? With Jacob? Never.

It started off at the celebration of Jacob's sixteenth birthday, with a drunken dare and the closet of Chris's basement.

They had postponed the celebration, waiting until a Friday night for a sleepover. It had been Chris's idea; him who had sneaked booze from his dad's liquor cupboard and said, "Let's play a game of truth or dare," and Jacob let him, because before he was letting Cook get away with stupid things, he had been letting Chris.

Not that Jacob could ever control Chris, but in his defense, Neil let the blond get away with those same things too.

The group had agreed, pausing their movie and making a circle on the floor. Cook sat next to Jacob, to no ones surprise. Chris began, putting the unmarked bottle in the middle of the circle. "So," he started, "we all familiar with the rules?" Everybody nodded, with the exception of Jacob. Chris sighed, putting his head in his hands.

"Goddamn Catholics," he muttered. Neil rolled his eyes, shoving Chris.

"Its like a penalty. If you don't answer the truth or do the dare you have to drink," Neil explained, gauging Jacob's reaction.

Jacob only shrugged, muttering a "That's cool."

Chris grinned, leaning forward. "Me first." Jacob didn't like the look on his face, leaning back away from Chris. Chris continued to grin, pointing amongst the group ominously. "Cook!" he shouted, finger settling on the brunet. "Whats your real name?"

Cook grimaced at this, such a familiar look at this point. "Absolutely not," he hissed, taking the bottle and uncapping it angrily. Jacob laughed, watching Cook guzzle down a mouthful of the alcohol. He could feel himself watching too long, focusing on things he wasn't meant to, like the way Cook's slender throat looked tipped back, how his Adam's apple bobbed.

Jacob swallowed in kind, looking back quickly, gaze focusing on his lap. He tried to make the flush on his cheeks go down, telling himself that it was just hot in this basement. Jacob came back to the moment, hearing Chris laugh, telling Cook it was his turn to ask.

Jacob did not notice Neil staring at him. Neil was better than Jacob in this respect.

The game continued, finally slowing down once all of them were drunk. It was Chris's turn, it was always Chris. He pointed drunkenly at Jacob, who was laying on the ground, voice slurred. "You two have to play seven minuted in heaven." Cook shrugged.

"I'm down," he replied, visibly less drunk than the rest of the group. Jacob didn't know what seven minutes in heaven was, but if Cook was going to do it, why wouldn't he?

"OK," Jacob sighs, slowly lifting himself off the floor. Cook dragged Jacob by the hem of his shirt to the closet, pushing Chris's clothes out of the way. Jacob looked at Cook through the darkness, watching him drunkenly, happily. Cook pushed Jacob up against the wall, and in Jacob's intoxicated state, he let him do so with a smile.

"Hi," Jacob whispered when they were chest to chest, hands naturally gravitating to settle at Cook's waist.

"Hi," Cook whispered back, leaning in, and gently placing his mouth against Jacob's. If Jacob were sober, he might've pushed Cook away. If Jacob were sober, he might've dragged Cook closer.

Jacob was not sober, so instead he kept Cook there, pressed to him, and kissed back. He did not do so urgently, or needily. He kissed Cook, not like he had been waiting for this, but kissed him slowly and respectfully. It was only when Cook became more frantic, desperate for whatever it was that drove him, did Jacob allow himself to enjoy this.

Jacob took care to match Cook's energy, keeping his hands on Cook's thin waist and not overstepping his bounds. Cook groaned into the kiss, pulling back. He pulled Jacob's face, down, looking into Jacob's spaced out eyes. Jacob smiled dopily, and muttered a name under his breath. Cook huffed, reaching out with his tongue to trace Jacob's bottom lip, before sucking it into his mouth.

Jacob hissed into the kiss, opening his mouth, and Cook took the opportunity to shove his tongue in, pushing against Jacob feverishly. Jacob kissed back, used to frenching by now after Mikaela, yet he reacted far more strongly than he had with her.

Time flew as the two made out, and the closet door opened with a bang far too soon. Chris laughed at the two, stumbling over his own feet as he held onto the door handle, Jacob and Cook hurriedly adjusting their clothes and fixing their hair.

"You cant tell anyone," Jacob had told Cook the next morning, standing on the front porch of Cook's run down house, already trusting Chris and Neil enough to know by now.

"Obviously," Cook scoffed, shrugging his bag further up his shoulder. He rolled his eyes, and Jacob just looked down at him fondly, yet with concern, with selfishness.

"I'll get killed if you do," Jacob whispers, his head dropping. "I mean it." Cook sighs, putting a hand on Jacob's shoulder.

"Y' wanna know a secret," Cook whispers, standing on the tips of his toes to put his mouth next to Jacob's ear. Jacob nodded, feeling Cook's breath fan across his neck.

"Me and my Dad had to move away 'cause I was bullied," Cook continues, wrapping his arms around Jacob's neck to stabilize himself. "It was cause two boys from my apartment complex found me kissin' a boy, and they didn't like that much." Cook drew back, face inches away from Jacob's own. "Between you 'n me, it was cause one had a crush on me," Cook chuckles, searching Jacob's face.

He pulls away, and Jacob sighs. "It'll be fine," Cook laughs, clapping Jacob on the shoulder. Cook goes into his home with a wink, and when he was safe behind the screen door, blew a kiss, and closed the door with a slam.

Neil didn't say a word as he drove Jacob home.

He would never tell Jacob, but he'd kissed Chris while the two were in the closet. He would never tell Chris either, since that fool had forgotten the entire night.

Jacob fell into his bed with a sigh that night. He stared at the ceiling, now filled with scrawled drawings, all there of Cook's accord.

Jacob prayed again that night, but all he had to say was, "I think I'm gay." God did not reply. Jacob did not feel bad.

Instead, he felt a rush so powerful it settled into his bones, making him laugh into his pillow. "Well that makes sense," he laughed, muffling his voice in his blankets.

Jacob's dad was not home the next day. He and his mother still went to church, both still lied to the priest in the confessional, and both still whispered their prayers to their God. Of course they did, how could they not, fearing Garrett over an all seeing, all knowing God?