Chapter Text
"Fuck just pick up the fucking phone!" Cal said, his voice strained. Pacing back and forth in his room. He had been like this for twenty minutes now, finding his bed empty and cold this morning. No signs that Andre had ever even been there last night.
"Hi, this is Andre, leave a message after the-"
Cal hung up the call before the voicemail could finish, throwing his phone at the wall with a level of force that caused the side to dent slightly.
"Fuck!" He shouted, voice hoarse, a mix of anxiety and frustration coursing through his body as he heavily sat down on his bed, holding his head in his hands. A few sobs and sniffles escaped as he held his head, his thoughts a constant stream that didn't seem to stop. 'Andre had never walked out like this before. Why now? Had Cal done something? Was going to college tomorrow, getting to Andre? Had he simply gone to the shops and left his phone somewhere? Did he hate Cal? What the fuck had Cal done?!'
He stayed like that for a while, the anxiety only rising by the minute as the questions swirled and started to grow teeth, becoming darker each long silent moment Andre didn't return his calls or walk back into the house. Cal refused to believe he was alone, him and Andre, they were always going to be together, they had promised each other that, had sworn on it by the lake on the 4th of July as they let off secret fireworks. They vowed to live and die by each other's side, true soldiers to the end, loyal only to each other and whatever cause they focused their minds on. Andre must be coming back; he had to be coming back.
By the time Cal moved again from where he'd curled up on the bed, trying to inhale the last of Andre's dying scent, the sun was already setting. His phone had remained silent. He trepidatiously got off the bed, picking up his phone from where it lay on the floor. Thankful it still worked, his parents had saved up to buy it for his 18th birthday a few months back, they would probably kill him if it had broken.
He tried one last time, whispering a silent prayer to a God he didn't believe in but swearing he would devote his life to if Andre picked up. Cal felt like he couldn't breathe as he hit call. It only rung once before going directly to voicemail, but this time, instead of Andre's warm voice he had heard a million times laughing, whispering soft, loving words and promises, the one that had always sounded like home to Cal. He was met with a cold, robotic voice.
"This person is not available. Please try again later."
Cal felt himself truly break for the first time. His whole world was crashing down around him. Questions of whether any of it was ever real spun in his mind, every 'I love you', were they all just jokes? Nothing more than a way to keep Cal around while he was still valuable and exciting. Had Andre grown bored with him? Or did he simply never care for Cal?
Cal slid down the wall, staring into the middle distance for a while. Unmoving, like a ghost in his own house, haunting the memories of what once was and what would never come to pass. Every kiss felt like a bruise on his skin, watching as they covered his body, overlapping and infecting him like some traitorous disease. Left without even a note or a passing goodbye to cling to. Was he so naive that he had never seen this coming? Or had he just refused to see it coming? Looking away, denying the truth that was clearly so apparent to everyone but him. The past two years burning to ash around him, his touch turning his thoughts rotten, the memories wilting and decaying, the colour draining from them, leaving only an empty void where love and passion once filled them in technicolour beauty. A silent death in his mind, too hollowed out to cry, only able to stare and wonder why.
Cal felt like he was running on autopilot for the next few months. Every person who tried to make conversation with him sounded nonsensical to his ears. A deep-seated grief had taken hold, its roots deeply embedded in his soul in a way no one could uproot.
Some nights, he would cry so hard he threw up, his mother offering glasses of water and tired eyes. It was clear even she was growing tired of Cal's unmovable grief. Other nights, he would get so angry it felt like a blinding fury, promising to kill Andre with the gunpowder that should have speckled their skin like stars.
All those promises long dead and buried, and yet Cal felt like a gravedigger, constantly clawing through the deep soil to unearth them, only to hold the memories in his mind in a form of deep self-torture. He blamed himself; it could only have been him. Why else would Andre not even care to leave a note after everything? All those stolen nights, cigarettes under the bleachers, touches that felt so intimate they bordered on holy communion and laughter over secrets kept close to their chests, that felt almost ecstatic and contagious in their manic violence.
None of it had come to pass; maybe Andre thought Cal a coward. Maybe he had never forgiven him. Perhaps that's why he left; he always was more of a God than Cal had been, never quite able to measure up. But that wasn't his fault. He hadn't been the one to-
Cal pushed the thought away, all of it too painful now. Too much of his youth was devoted to a reckoning they both secretly knew was nothing but roleplay. Maybe their relationship was nothing but an extension of that? A mangled creature born out of shared hatred and false idols, with no solid foundations ever set in place. Andre had probably seen it, gazed upon how it was nothing but smoke and mirrors and run for the hills, leaving Cal in the crumbling mass of something that once stood so grand in their minds.
A festering mess of shame and unspent power, something he had nurtured and coerced, now leaving only a hollowed-out space where his beating heart should lie, what was he without him? Cal hadn't existed as anything but a half in so long he'd almost forgotten what it was to breathe wholly. The question alone was his own personal damnation. One that haunted him, creeping into the silent moments where the distractions were not potent enough. Materialising as a shadowy creature that lurked in the cracks and crevices of his room and spread across his walls at night, tangling with his limbs. The constant, never-ending torment, playing on repeat in his mind, until he started to question if he ever existed at all. Was he not just some strange hallucination accompanying Andre's delusions and feeding them, now cast aside and forgotten about like a childhood imaginary friend?
Who was he? Truly, who was he? He was defined by everyone who met him. Forced to fit into their imaginary boxes of what they deemed acceptable and true to character. When was the last time he did anything of importance and actually saw it through? Cal couldn't recall much of his life that had mattered. Living in stolen days now that he never thought he'd see. There was a time, he was so sure of himself, of what they planned together. He had fully expected to never live past eighteen, and now he was stifled and stuck in the same town where he was born. He had to get out of this town, get away from the East Coast and all the memories it held. He couldn't even walk down the street without recalling a million different nights, drinking, laughing, plotting, planning. The tension that was still held in every sunset dripped like poison down his throat, scaring his skin and reforming his soul until he was nothing more than a background actor in someone else's story in this God forsaken town. He was supposed to matter; they were supposed to matter, now he was just thankful those tapes had burned in the bonfire they'd set over talks of a fresh start, of softly spoken lies over something better. Where had any of it gotten him? Maybe his agency had gone up in flames that night as well?
February rolled around, and with it, his 19th birthday. It was the usual display. Rachel came round for a time, talking about life in Boston. It was the first one Andre wasn't there for since they were both thirteen.
"You seem different now." She said as they walked down the town's high street.
Cal laughed a bit; he always found it easy to fall back into character. "How do you mean?" He asked, but he knew what she meant. He was different now, more solemn by himself, desperately searching for anything that would give him purpose with no clear direction of who to be or where to go.
"I don't know…I mean, it's been months since we last saw each other, and you always did overthink." She said with a small laugh, trying to ease any tension that came from her line of questioning.
Cal didn't respond for a minute. Was he really just overthinking? Had any of it actually mattered as much as it felt like it did? Perhaps it was all just a fantasy to help them get through senior year and the long winters. Perhaps none of it had mattered anywhere near as much as he thought it did.
The thought was one he'd been considering for a while now. It would make sense why Andre never called, never texted, never even seemed to come back to town. It wasn't even like he was far away. A short thirty-minute drive, and yet neither of them ever made the effort to travel. At least if Cal made the effort, he might finally get the answers he craved so deeply. The ones that swirled around his mind late at night, keeping him awake and tormented. Why did he have to be the one to make the effort anyway? He wasn't the one who left. Cal would later come to regret never going to see Andre once after he left heading west.
"Yeah, maybe." He finally responded.
Rachel didn't draw out the conversation, instead just letting out a gentle sigh as if to welcome in the comfortable silence that fell between them.
He didn't call.
~
It was April when Jasper showed up in Cal's life. The nights were drawing out, welcoming spring as blossoms started spilling from the trees. The sun was beginning to prick Cal's skin again, no longer hiding away behind ash coloured clouds and charcoal skies. It intensified everything around him, leaving him nowhere to run, every street bathed in golden light, only growing more sheer by the day. But spring always brought new beginnings, new life breathed into old souls, the carcasses now claimed by the earth in winter, become daisies in spring.
Cal first noticed Jasper in early April. Cal had taken up a 'temporary' job in a book shop. He told himself repeatedly it was just until he figured out what he wanted to do, told his parents he wanted a year out before college. Each passing day, the lie grew more bitter on his tongue. But Jasper, or rather 'that guy with red hair' as Cal referred to him mentally, gave Cal something new to focus on. Someone different to think about, someone mysterious and unknown, someone whose mere existence was almost existing in this hollowed out existence he'd come to call home. Whenever he came to the bookshop, Cal would almost study him out of the corner of his eyes. Started noticing how his auburn hair mimicked the leaves in autumn, the soft golden honey hue in his eyes when they caught the sun, how he always seemed to have a different sweater on, the patchwork of grass stains on his jeans, or how his features all complemented each other to give him this fox-like look, all sharp angles and soft curls. He was like an autumn haze in the warm spring air.
But Cal was accustomed to only exchanging a few words with him, the classic retail phrases, and never speaking out of turn. That changed in late April.
"Hey, I'm looking for this book, but can't seem to find it," Jasper said, a soft smile on his features.
Cal almost didn't know how to respond for a moment, as if thrown by such a simple question. "Umm, what book is it?" He recovered somewhat smoothly.
"East of Eden."
Cal almost laughed at the coincidence. But upon the realisation that he was taking too long to answer and probably looked quite strange staring blankly, he quickly tried to cover himself. "Oh yeah, we should have a copy somewhere!" He replied quickly, hastily walking towards the fiction section. "I read it a year back or so, found it funny sharing one of the main character's names."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, name's Cal."
"Jasper."
Cal croached down by the bookshelf, his eyes scanning the rows of books all sorted in alphabetical order. He had done this a million times, either stocking shelves, looking for a book himself or trying to search for a special edition copy they claimed to carry for Mrs Davidson, who always made a point of only buying hardbacks. But even if he had done this before, having Jasper stand so close by, a presence that seemed to take up space both in the room and in Cal's daydreams, made his skin prickle and heart patter.
"Nice having a name to the face," Cal said without thinking, mentally wanting to slap himself for how awkward the words sounded on his tongue.
"Likewise," Jasper replied, his voice smooth in the way high-quality whiskey slid down the throat. Seemingly not noticing the awkwardness that felt so stark to Cal.
Speaking more than a few words to each other now, Cal could tell he wasn't from here. His accent was softer, slightly drawn out, like it belonged in long evenings and desert springs. It hadn't been worn down by the East Coast blight that made his own accent rougher and more nasally.
Cal's eyes finished scanning, seeing where the book should obviously be. He moved to shift a few books, but there was no sight of it. "Huh, I guess the few copies we did have got sold," Cal said, standing and turning to look at Jasper, mentally taking note of the fact that Jasper could only have been an inch taller than him if not the same height. "I'll have a look in the back, but I wouldn't hold your breath." Cal added walking towards the door, fittingly labelled 'staff only' in bold lettering.
The door swung open with more force than he meant to open it, quickly swinging closed behind him. Now alone again, he took a moment, half wondering why he was feeling like some teenage girl. Jasper was pretty; anyone could see that, but his own overanalysis of his own speech pattern and actions was becoming frustrating. He ran a hand through his hair, noticing how he needed a haircut, anything to distract his mind from the hazel, honey eyes just outside, the kind one could get lost in, the kind that would probably crinkle when he laughed, an unjudging, unguarded kindness and softness Cal hadn't seen since he was a child. In some ways, it was refreshing; in others, it felt like a betrayal to all he held dear.
He went searching for the book, trying to ignore the way his hands had a light tremor, the way his mind wondered why he'd never seen Jasper before, the question of if he'd met him earlier would Andre's leaving of hurt less or would their fallout just have come quicker?
God, he needed to stop thinking like this; he barely knew Jasper; hell, he'd just learnt his name. Jasper was a figure to fill Cal's daydreams, nothing else, and the thought of getting attached to anyone again made his skin crawl; the feeling of betrayal still clawed at his mind and made his chest ache in the dingy storage room. He swore he'd never let anyone hurt him like Andre had, leaving him like he was nothing, like they were nothing, like they had never existed at all. It was pathetic, it was cruel, it was agony.
Cal didn't even realise how hard he was gripping the cardboard box until he focused on the present again, blinking a couple of times to try and clear his mind and slowly loosening his grip, starting to search through the books all filed under 'S'.
Finally, after a minute or two, he found one copy and quickly shifted to put the box back and moved to leave the storage room, making a conscious effort to leave the way his hands shook, the memories of nights so far out of grasp now and the daydreams in this cursed room.
Jasper was waiting a few paces away, looking at some books on the shelf closest, but turned to look at Cal upon hearing the door open, greeting him with a short, small smile and even though Cal had promised himself only seconds ago to leave his daydreams in the store room, seeing Jasper even slightly smile made his heart pick up a small bit.
"Here, think it's the last copy we have," Cal said, giving Jasper the book and offering his own small smile.
They both moved to the cash register. The sun was starting to set outside, creating a golden haze around everything, and it caught in Jasper's hair, the warmth the red held illuminated in the soft, easy light, while the tiny flecks of green in his eyes became clear, like tiny emeralds Cal wished desperately to collect.
Jasper paid, and Cal pretended to busy himself as Jasper moved to the exit, but his attention was grabbed again when Jasper's warm voice broke through the light static in his mind. "I'll tell you how I find it."
"I hope you like it." His own voice losing its normal professional detachment, sounding friendly and relaxed in a way he hadn't sounded in months. Both exchanged small smiles as Jasper turned to leave.
A week passed before Cal saw Jasper again. He tried to fill his mind with anything but daydreams, but he kept returning to the small conversation, as normal as it was; Jasper's voice continued to ring in Cal's head, his smile etched into Cal's thoughts. Every day at work felt like playing a waiting game until he would see him again. A part of him felt pathetic over having a crush, how much softer it seemed to make him, like he wanted to be okay.
He had never really had a crush before. With Andre, everything had just developed so quickly, spiralling so intensely that they were exchanging harsh, violent kisses before Cal even had time to question it. Sometimes he wondered if they had ever really loved each other at all, or if they'd just been so in love with their own destruction and idolisation of violence that they fed off each other. As logical as the thought was, he often chased it away, told himself over and over again that of course they'd been in love, how could they not have been? How they'd told each other only they mattered, how they'd bared their souls to each other and let the other gorge themselves on, consumed each other like the drugs they'd used to get high.
The gentleness they swore they would only ever give to the other, before the wondrous violence Cal still dreamed of within deadly brown eyes staring up at him, as Cal had forced Andre's head up. His hands could still feel the way they'd tugged at Andre's hair. His back could still feel the way fingernails had clawed into him, his lips still drunk on the sweet poison, his neck still ached like it was a patchwork of love only found in shadowy violence.
Of course, that was love; the thought that it wasn't wasn't one even worth considering, because if there was even a chance it wasn't, what was the point in any of it other than self-destruction and pitiful lust? So every time the thought emerged, he rid himself of it, buried it so deep down it couldn't bother him anymore.
He'd done the same with his thoughts of Jasper, or at least tried to for a few days; it felt like a betrayal, like he was finally giving up on the small, hopeful chance that Andre might wultz back into town and have a reasonable explanation for all of it. Hell, even if he didn't, Cal was unsure if he was strong enough to deny and chase him away. But Jasper seemed kind, a gentleness in his eyes, Cal hadn't seen in years. The same type he had desperately hoped he'd see in Andre's eyes, praying that he'd look at Cal like he was the only person in the room and just once, and not whisper of how he wished everyone dead. A type that would kiss him gently and not follow it with a harsh bite or clawing. Jasper gave it away to everyone, as if it were easy, like he could see the goodness in people and not ask them to expose their darkest desires to ensure it was genuine.
Andre had once looked at him like that, on a night drenched in summer heat, when the cicadas were so loud and they were out by the lakes on the edge of town. They'd spent the evening getting drunk on beer Andre had stolen from his dad, and he'd held Cal like he was the most precious thing on Earth. They'd whispered soft, beautiful words, and then Andre had looked at him like he'd hung the moon, and Cal swore he had never felt anything like it, consumed by it for endless nights to come. Desperately wishing to be met with such softness again, truly unguarded and genuine, and Cal swore in that moment, regardless of the rest, they had loved each other in a way that made time stretch infinitely. He searched for it in every moment afterwards, but never once found it, like a dog constantly digging in the yard looking for something lost that it was starting to forget the smell of.
The memory had once served as a comfort, a way Cal would remind himself late at night while pacing back and forth that Andre loved him more than the constant planning and reckoning. Now it was just another way to torture himself, a visual reminder that at some point, that unguarded love had clearly died or been slaughtered by the same hands capable of such painful softness and graceful pain.
He tried his best not to think of that night, only allowing it to encroach late at night when he couldn't stand acting strong anymore. But in the day, he buried it under thoughts of Jasper, allowed the crush to build because, for once, he was thinking of the softness in hazel eyes rather than brown, and that was enough to get by.
Cal was growing antsy over the week, his brain spitting out cruel thoughts that maybe Jasper had seen whatever weakness Andre had and would simply never return. Once again, leaving Cal in the ruins of something before it had even really begun.
But his anxious thoughts were set aside on a bright Tuesday morning. It was unseasonably cold for Spring, the kind of morning that would fit winter moods better, where the sunlight is almost harsh in its approach. The kind that forced Cal to squint at how it shone through the windows, still covered in condensation.
He was looking through some new books that had come in, trying to categorise them and prepare them to be put on the shelves; he didn't even realise someone was standing in front of him until he heard that slight whiskey-stained accent, the one that had started to bring comfort to his dreams.
"You got a haircut," Jasper said, his voice warm. If the words were said by anyone else, it may have come across as blunt, but Jasper had a way about him, able to turn normal, everyday observations into something warmer, more friendly.
Cal looked up from the books, meeting Jasper's casual gaze. "I uhh yeah…Was getting too long, you know?" Cal replied, trying not to sound too taken aback, trying not to think about how a small part of him had got his haircut to look more presentable to Jasper. A few months ago, he wouldn't have cared how he looked.
"I think it looks good….Suits you." Jasper replied with a soft smile on his face. Cal wondered if he spoke to everyone like this, if this was just what Jasper was like.
"Thanks," Cal said, trying not to sound too self-conscious. "What did you think of the book, by the way? If you've had the chance to finish it, that is!" He added, trying to change the subject away from himself, he never really liked being in the spotlight.
"I mean, it's about the duality of man. How we all have good and bad inside of us. I guess often when we look at someone we may see all good or all bad, but it's more complex than that, you know?"
"Yeah, I wrote one of my college entrance essays on Steinbeck's work back in high school. Was gonna study English literature." Cal replied, his voice drifting into a more wistful tone as he spoke.
"Oh? You go to a college around here, then?" Jasper asked, his voice peaking in interest.
"Nah."
"How come?"
"Just never really worked out, I guess," Cal replied, busying his hands with some stacks of notes behind the till while trying to keep his voice neutral on the matter.
Jasper seemed to wait a moment, as if considering his words, seconds of silence passing between the two, a silence that was neither comfortable nor stifling. "Well, if you did want someone to talk about his books with or any books for that matter, I'd be free for coffee at some point, that is, if you'd like?" Jasper's said, his works falling from my mouth in something close to a ramble.
Cal was taken aback by this, his hands stilling on the notes he was rearranging mindlessly on the desk, his brain short-circuiting for a moment. He hadn't really 'hung out' with anyone since his birthday, and it wasn't like he'd made much of an effort to create new friends. He met Jasper's gaze, his eyes warm and inviting, the honey-like colour only accentuated by the rays of sunlight streaming in through the blinds. "I umm- Yeah, I'm free tomorrow, if you're around?" Cal said, managing to clean up his reply as he spoke.
"Sounds good. I'll meet you here tomorrow around two?" Jasper replied with a small smile.
"Mhm," Cal said, trying to offer his own small smile out of politeness.
With that, Jasper gave him one last smile, a look that was quickly becoming his trademark in Cal's life before turning on his heels and heading for the exit, leaving Cal with the calming thought of coffee and conversation tomorrow afternoon. A normal activity, with a normal person, a person who was the opposite of Andre, it seemed in every way. Someone who cared to hear Cal's thoughts on literature and poetry and offered him warm smiles and kind eyes without asking for bloodshed in return, and for a moment, amongst all the what-ifs and sleepless nights, Cal felt as though he was able to breathe.