Chapter Text
When I transferred to Forks High in my junior year, I didn’t expect that my life would change too drastically. I was adamant that it wouldn't be very different to what I was doing now. I knew why I moved. I knew that I needed to move. I understood that it was the only way that I could’ve really explored and fulfilled my academic potential. It wasn’t that the reservation was short on good or supportive teachers, it was just short on other resources. The school on the rez didn’t have four science labs. I understood that if I got a good education and I got a good job, I could’ve come back and changed that. I knew I couldn’t dismantle the master’s house with his tools but I knew that I could’ve at least used daddy’s money to buy a little happiness, even if it wasn't just my own. So, yeah. I was sure that life wouldn’t have changed very much. I had a goal.
In reality, it didn’t actually change very much and things were going to plan. I was in school - senior year now. I was doing well. I was on the student council. I was a shoe in for most of my college applications and scholarships between academics and athletics. I had lined up some internships to get me some experience during the summer and earn me some cash. I still lived at home with my pops. Rachael moved back home to help me take care of him as things got tougher with school. I still surfed with my old friends on the weekend and we hung out during the week as much as we could’ve between baseball practice, after school tutoring and my part-time job at the auto-shop. What I didn’t expect was the addition of you . I wasn’t foolish enough to think that I would’ve transferred to a school, spend two years studying amongst two hundred students and not make any friends but I hadn’t expected you at all.
I’m not sure anyone anticipated the interjection of you into my life except maybe you, yourself. You were on the opposite end of the spectrum to me. I wasn’t part of Forks and I stood out because of that. You were of Forks and had every right to belong, every reason to fit in. You just didn’t. You were intelligent, to your credit, and wildly good at academics. You did what was required of you and a bit more. You made the honour roll most if not all of the time. You had scholarships lined up. You secured good recommendations for school. No one had any doubts that you had a bright future ahead of you but, boy oh boy, were you strange. Just one look at you and I could tell that something was not quite right about you. Everyone kept their distance from you. People were polite to you, don’t get me wrong. You never had any outright oddness about your interactions. When you spoke to people, you responded as you should, you made people feel comfortable enough to approach you if they had to but that was it. When you walked down the hallway, usually alone, people instinctively clung to their lockers. They literally kept their distance. I watched you a lot after I noticed this. Maybe that was why you had thought that I was available for friendship? I stared at you. I was studying you in fact. I wanted to know what it was about you. You were a good looking guy, a good frame from swimming, you just…gave off some odd ass vibes. It took seeing you jack Tyler Crowley up against a wall by his throat in the diner with a fucking smile to understand what it was about you that forced people away and I had to laugh.
You took no shit.
You didn’t business who someone was or who their daddy was or how much their shoes cost or what their grades looked like. You didn’t take shit and you certainly didn’t entertain falseness. Tyler thought it would be funny to flip up Rosalie Hale’s skirt. She was your cousin or close friend from junior high, something. He thought it would’ve been funny to flip up her skirt in a crowded diner in front of you . Rosalie probably would’ve taken his ass down if she had the chance, hell, I fucking stood up to rest a hand on him. You were quicker than everyone. Boy, you didn’t even bat an eyelash and you smiled .
“You think you’re cute, don’t you, Tyler Crowley,” you had said evenly with your neat, polite smile in place.
I had the sinking feeling that you might have killed or grievously injured him if Rosalie hadn’t asked you to calm down. But yeah… you took no shit and people didn’t like that. You were black and white with very few grey areas, if any at all. People hated that. You defied what you looked like. You didn’t fit into people’s expectations, even their expectations of what a rebel should look like in small town America. You were just yourself. You were true to that. You did your thing, you did good and took no shit. I liked that about you. It wasn’t the first thing that I noticed about you but it was the first thing that I liked about you. I was content to like that trait from afar but clearly you hadn’t been pleased with the distance. One day we were Edward Masen and Jacob Black and then the next we were YOU&I and we were not without each other for very long. You fell into my life and I fell into yours, fitting near seamlessly into family and friend life, meeting new people, expanding circles, studying together, hiking, you name it. We went from nothing to never-apart. It would be weird and it really should’ve been considering how fucking strange you were but it just never bothered me. In reality, perhaps things had changed? But the shift felt so small. We had a routine that was really both of our routines smashed together.
Today was a textbook Tuesday. We met at the field to watch the girls practice. When they finished up, we’d be heading down to the diner where, as per usual, we’d shoot each other loaded looks over our shakes and fries. The list of things that I liked about you had grown a fair amount since we became whatever the fuck we were. Today, I was focused on how much I liked the slow purposeful way you did things sometimes, even when it came to bothering me. You put the sole of your old raggedy-ass Converse up against the sole of my old but clean Ariats and shoved it off of where it was propped on my knee. You nuisance.
“Fucker.”
You grinned. Of course the way your face changed through expressions was not slow or purposeful in any way. They were quick, bright flashes like fireworks over the lake in the summer. You dropped your ass on the bleacher next to mine and the tears in our jeans lined up. Our poses are mirrored - arms propped up on the seat behind so we could recline. You were wearing sunglasses unlike me. The halves of your shirt fell to the side of your torso like wings - light and soft flannel next to my stiff leather. The girls waved from the field below. You didn’t really do girls. You treated them with a certain level of apathy that was not characteristic of someone that looked like you. You didn’t do dudes either, not that the queer population was pumping in Forks. The school was oddly…sterile. I don’t know if it was a hazard of everyone growing up together or if these fuckers were just very apt at hiding it. Whatever PDA you’d catch in the hallway was tame - hand holding, arms around shoulders, pecks on cheeks, chaste kisses on lips, oh the horror. I had my suspicions that they were just apt at hiding it. I suppose the danger of growing up together is the lack of boundaries. Who wanted their mama to find out after Sunday service that they were getting blowjobs under the bleachers at school?
“So…” you drawled like you have little to no intention of actually saying something to me, “I was talking to Rose and Bella about shaking up our little Tuesday routine.” I nodded for him to continue. “The coach has them running more drills as soccer season is starting soon and they’re trying to stay lean. They said they’d still come and hang out with us at the diner but I told them that they’d just be miserable watching us actually enjoy life.” At this I snorted. I knew Rose and Bella loved the shakes at the diner. It was indeed a guilty pleasure for them. “So I figured they could just head home after practice and you and I could maybe shoot some pool over in Port Angeles and get some pizza. There’s a new spot opened up on 5th Street, near the aquatic centre. Supposed to be like NYC type pizza, the big slices. You ever been to NYC?” You saied it all casual-like, like I had money to fly to New York City to eat a slice of pizza.
“Nah man,” I replied easily. You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable about not having the kind of funds that you have, so I didn’t really take offence when something like that slipped through. And you never played poor. You were always upfront about being wealthy. You were lucky enough to have really good parents that were really generous with their money in Forks. They were born and bred there and they took care of the town. I really liked that about them and about you. You weren’t a brat, even though you knew you had the security of their money. You had new shit but you weren’t excessive with it. You were, surprisingly, very responsible about your spending and shit. You and your family were pretty Hallmark-y. It would’ve been sickening if it wasn’t so genuine. Your shoes were old and beat up because you liked them and liked wearing them. Your jeans were ripped because we were all doing it. Your pops still took the bus to work sometimes and your mum worked a second job at the city hall half the week because they were understaffed. “I’ll have to take your word on whether or not they’re good.”
“A NYC slice is good,” you insisted, “I think the guy who opened up the shop is from there but that’s everyone’s cry these days when they’re opening up an ‘authentic’ food joint, huh?’ No argument there. “Like are you actually from NYC or did your parents live there twenty years ago? It’s just different, man. When you get the chance to travel you notice things. The groceries are all packed differently. The spices you might get there, you’re not getting here. Are you importing? And if you are, how much do you want me to pay for a slice? It’s already a tourist town!”
Barking a laugh, “Why so preachy today?”
You shrugged. “Maybe I’m just tired of fake shit.” The grin you threw me was predatory at best. “It’s just a regular Tuesday, man.”
I punched your shoulder, off-balancing you slightly and rose to my feet. You slipped your sunglasses down a bit to look at me over the top. The sun was straight in your eye but you didn’t really seem bothered. Your gaze was fixed on me. I was too busy noticing the gold in the green of your irises and pretending I wasn’t waxing poetry about your crazy ass to consider that maybe something was a bit different about the way you watched me today. Scooping up my backpack, I nodded my head in the way of the stairs. “I’ll text Bella to let her know what’s up. I think she brought her truck so I don’t have to give her a ride home.”
With a long luxurious stretch, you rose too. “Are we taking the bike or going separately?”
I really liked that you weren’t afraid to ride with me. It was one of the few things that people disliked about me - my bike and resultant biker image - but you were pretty indifferent - surprise, surprise - about it. You were nervous the first time you hopped on but after a couple rides, it’s like you couldn’t wait for the next one. I always wondered why you didn’t just buy one. I would’ve taught you to ride. We could’ve rode together instead of you backpacking. I shrugged and shouldered my bag. “That’s fine by me. Do you have to drop the car home first or you’re leaving it here overnight?”
“Lemme call my dad. I’m sure he won’t mind picking it up on his way home. He took the bus today, had some documents he wanted to look over on the way to work.”
Fifteen minutes later we were on the 101 heading North. The bike had one of those handles at the back so you could’ve held on and sat up a bit. It helped to make things more comfortable. It wasn’t easy to ride just over an hour with someone nearly my size up against my back. Occasionally, you would’ve released the handle all together and held your arms out. The first time you did it, I wanted to die. I nearly crashed the bike. When I had asked you if you had been trying to kill me, you told me that you’d been trying to fly. When you did it though, you were forced to grip a little harder with your thighs to stay on the bike. It usually meant that you slid down the seat and up against me and your thighs were gripping my hips. We never really spoke about it but when the loaded looks intensified after we rode together, I knew you were thinking and feeling similar things. The trip was easy like most things between us. Since neither of us were hungry, we headed to the pool hall for a couple games first. The bouncer at the pool hall stamped the back of our hands to mark us as underage - neither of us drank any way between sports and studying. The place was pretty empty considering it was a Tuesday and it was early. We figured that those who were there were probably regulars. They didn’t really pay us any mind so we didn’t care. It was easy to get an empty pool table and it really didn’t hurt that we got our hands on some of the newer cues. As usual, you and I have a little ‘polite’ fight over who paid for the table.
“Bro, you always pay for the table, no matter how long we stay here” I said hotly, tapping him lightly on his chest with the tip of the pool cue.
“So what?” You retorted, your chin angled defiantly at me, “What’s wrong if I want to pay?”
“But you can’t always do it!” I laughed incredulously. “For fuck’s sake, Edward… Put your chin away. Just lemme get it. I got paid. I have some extra money. I want to do this. You can buy the drinks if your wallet is burning your pocket so badly.”
You angled your chin a bit higher if possible and stared down your nose at me arrogantly. I silently wished that you were not about to say some stupid shit out of whatever misplaced chivalry you’re feeling. I stood my ground. It was one of the things you had admitted to liking about me which made me feel a little extra bold when you gave me cause to butt heads with you. With a dramatic sigh and screwed up face, you stood down, walking over to the bar with a huff.
“I’m going to feed and water you like a king, asshole!” And instead of the chin, it’s an unwavering finger angled threateningly at me. “Do you hear me? A fucking king!”
I grinned and racked up, waiting for you to come back to start the game. We probably wouldn’t have made it to the pizza place if you insisted on feeding me out of spite. I could’ve thrown down but your excessiveness is going to mean that there’s going to be more food than we could’ve eaten collectively. I liked that literally the only time you throw your money around is when you were treating your friends. It was like you couldn’t help yourself. I liked that you liked to take care of people. I supposed it would’ve made sense that you take no shit. I supposed it made it easier for you to have your boundaries when you had a small circle and you were sure of who was genuine. With two non-alcoholic beers between your right fingers and a massive plate of wings in the left hand, you’ve no choice but to wield your chin in my direction once more. Go ahead. Break. The balls exited their triangular formation with a wild crack, my body and cue curving up with the force of my strike. Two balls went into the pockets. Stripes.
You sucked your teeth heavily. “Ugh. I hate playing solids! Hold this, Black.”
You thrust the plate of wings at me. I dug in while you circled the table considering your options. Taunting, “So this is what the royal treatment looks like these days? A Heineken 00 and a plate of BBQ wings?”
The grin you shot me from your leaned over position was a wicked thing. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg, good man.” Your eyes didn’t leave mine when you took your shot and landed it.
“You cocky fucker.”
You laughed, a short, clear sound. You ended up sinking another ball before scratching and it was my turn again. And so we went, making shots and trading the plate of wings between us. A bloody banquet appeared on our table. It was like you’ve ordered the entire menu. When I levelled you with a gaze both unimpressed and exasperated, you grinned wolfishly and scratched for what must be the fourth or fifth time this game.
“You off your game, Masen?” I paused to shove a handful of fries in my mouth.
You sucked your teeth and snatched a fry from the second handful I’ve gathered up. “Just take your turn, Black.”
We probably made one and a half games full of scratching and missing before you called for a time out. Slowly but surely, we were coming to the point where we’d have to pack all this food up and we were scarcely halfway through. I shot you another nasty look for good measure, to which you responded with a dismissive eye roll but we sat down and gave good effort with a plate of nachos before throwing in the towel.
“So,” you said in that annoyingly slow way of yours, “Prom’s coming up in a few months.”
“Oh yeah?” It kind of came out of left field. I didn’t even realise you were planning on doing Prom. “You know, I haven’t really thought about actually going…” I braved another bite of nacho. They tasted really good but my guts were just at their limit. “I wanted to volunteer to work on prep though.”
“Really?”
I almost didn’t dignify you with a response given the total lack of interest in your tone but I knew it was no harm. Again. Black and white. No shit. Dry. “Yeah. Wouldn’t hurt to add a lil decorating somen somen to my resume.” I shrugged. Maybe, one more nacho… “Looks good. A lil diversity. And I’m also on the student council, I think it’s expected of me to do something for this.”
You made a little hum in your throat. You were nibbling around the edge of a chip, wearing it down to the thinner centre. “Wear your jacket.”
“My bike jacket?” I deadpanned “To prom?”
“Yeah, why not.” Like it was the easiest thing in the world. Like my sister probably wouldn’t have tried to tear me a new asshole for it. Or like my father wouldn’t have felt embarrassed to have me out there like we couldn’t have afforded a tux. I hadn’t told him that I didn’t want to wear a tux in the first place, if I was even going. I wanted to wear something inspired by our regalia. I was not afraid of not being a part of Forks but I was also not afraid of being of La Plush, of my people. The request that you had made sat strangely on my chest. By the time I was formulating a response, you were already on your feet, back at the pool table, racking up for a next game. I supposed in the time we fucked around at the pool table we’d work up a bit more of an appetite to tackle the food on the table again.
“You gonna wear those raggedy ass sneakers?” I said instead of what I wanted to. I wanted to tell you what was up, where my head was at but this was new territory. Bros didn’t ask other bros to wear things specifically for Prom. This was new. This was very new and I decided I’d take it one thing at a time. I stood up too, taking back the cue I was using and chalking it up.
In that snotty-ass voice you were prone to using when you were being a shit, “Do you want me too?”
“Nah. I wanna see how you clean up.” Could I have said something like that? I could've, right? This is where we were at? We were doing this flirting shit outright?
“Okay,” you replied nonchalantly, holding out your hand for me to toss you the chalk, “Well, I can do that for you and you can wear your jacket for me.”
Trying to find some concrete ground, I pushed forward. “So we’re going stag…together then?”
“No, we’re just going together.”
I blinked.
You blinked, methodically rubbing the chalk on the tip of the cue.
“You and me…and prom?” I asked hesitantly. My head dipped slightly, shyly.
“Yeah. Somen wrong with that, Jake?” you said it firmly, watching me with intense unwavering eyes and I really shouldn’t have been surprised. You were so unapologetic about everything. Even though your gaze was intense there was a softness to the set of your face. I was looking at you through the hair that had fallen over my face. You were looking at me through your lashes. The bar was getting busy around us and it wasn’t exactly how I imagined that things might spark between us but you were as subtle as a fucking traincrash. “You and me and prom. Sounds pretty sweet to me.”
You leaned on your pool cue. Your fingers were wrapped near the top and your chin was propped delicately on them, your smile plush and shy. There you went again, defying expectations. My heart beat twice and skipped to the left. You looked pretty sweet. Your eyes were flitting around my face and were you…blushing? It took strength that I didn’t know that I had to stop myself from rounding the table. I just needed to be in your space as far as you’d let me. The loaded looks had more than run their course. Perhaps the time had come for some openness.
“No…Nothing’s wrong with that. It sounds…great.” I cleared my throat and went for it. “So how about just you and me?”
“Just you and me?” You murmured softly. You angled that chin up again but there was something tender and submissive about the way you bared your neck to me from across the pool table.
With slow, measured steps sort of reminiscent of you - I thought you recognized that and smiled wider - I rounded the table and gripped the pool cue just under your hand which slipped down to meet mine. “Yeah. You and me, together. How does that sound?”
“Like the sweetest.”