Falling Fast

Nick had everything anyone could ask for: a perfect family, a home that looked like it came out of a picture book, and a life that seemed, from the outside, pretty damn good. But no one really knew the full story, not even his family. Sure, he had an older brother, Alex, who was tall, quiet, and always reading his guitar-playing hands off. Sure, he had a younger sister, Emma, who was athletic, stubborn, and a lot like him in spirit�"but not in action. Sure, his parents were older, but still alive and trying their best. But all that perfection just made Nick angry.

Nick was 17, with messy brown hair that flopped into his brown eyes, and freckles splattered across his face like an artist got carried away with a paintbrush. He was short, and everyone made sure to remind him of it, but he didn’t care. He had this confidence that radiated�"like he could take on anyone, even if he was always getting into trouble. School? He’d been expelled from four different ones. Fights? Constant. Street races? Oh yeah, and it was his therapy. Whether it was his classic Mustang or his sleek Ninja sports bike, Nick lived for speed and chaos. He loved the thrill of the race, the adrenaline rush, the noise of engines in the middle of the night. It was his escape.

He wasn't out�"at least, not to anyone who mattered. But there was someone who understood him more than anyone else: Jake. Jake was like Nick�"reckless, wild, and a damn good racer. They met one night after Nick blew past a group of other street racers on his bike. Jake, not one to shy away from a challenge, pulled up alongside him and gave him a cocky grin. They’d hit it off instantly. There was something about Jake’s chaotic energy that made Nick feel less alone. Jake was the kind of person who’d drive too fast, jump off anything that moved, and laugh in the face of danger. It was a something Nick respected.

Nick didn’t care about what others thought�"he’d never cared much for what anyone said, not even his family. His father was always absent, working all the time. His mother, while she had her own business and worked from home, often had a judgmental tone when it came to his "reckless behavior." But it didn’t matter. To them, he was just the screw-up, the one always in trouble. It wasn’t like Alex and Emma were perfect either, but they didn’t have the same fire in them.

Alex, being just eleven months older, had always been the golden child. He was quiet, reserved, and kind�"everything Nick wasn’t. He read books for fun, played the guitar when he wanted to relax, and had a girlfriend who made him look even more perfect. Alex didn’t know about Nick’s racing life. Hell, he barely knew what Nick did in his free time�"other than causing chaos.

Emma, his little sister, was a different story. She was young but fierce. Nick couldn’t help but admire her determination, even if she was quick to give up on things. She tried every sport under the sun but never stuck with one for long enough to become truly good.

Nick was a perfectionist in his own way, though it was all twisted. Everything had to be perfect in his chaotic world. He raced to win, fought to defend his pride, and never complained because that would mean weakness. Being the troublemaker was a part of him, but it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be seen, even if that meant causing a little chaos along the way.

But Jake? Jake was the first person who didn’t try to fix him. He didn’t see Nick as someone who needed saving. Jake just understood him. In a world where everything felt like a balancing act between perfection and failure, Jake was a constant reminder of the raw freedom Nick craved.

Nick’s life was a constant tug-of-war between wanting to escape and knowing, deep down, that something had to give. He loved his family, in a way�"how could he not? They gave him a roof over his head, food, and everything else most kids dreamed of. But the more he got older, the more it felt like they were pushing him into a mold he didn’t fit. He wasn’t Alex, who could sit with a guitar and charm anyone with his quiet, steady nature. He wasn’t Emma, who threw herself into every sport, even when she didn’t have the patience to stick with one thing. And he sure as hell wasn’t the model child his parents hoped for.

The tension was always there, simmering under the surface. Every time his mom gave him that look�"the one that said, *You're not living up to what I expected from you*�"he felt a fire stir in him. Every time his dad missed another dinner, or another important family moment, it only fueled that anger. Nick never complained, though. He never said anything. He just acted out. Maybe it was the only way he could make them notice, even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

Jake, on the other hand, noticed him in all the right ways. There was no judgment. There was no “you’re too reckless” or “you need to stop.” Jake loved the chaos, fed off of it. He was the first person Nick had met who saw his world for what it was and embraced it.

They didn’t talk about deep feelings or serious stuff. Their conversations were mostly filled with racing stories and challenges, but every once in a while, Jake would glance over at Nick with that smile that always seemed to say, *I get it.*

It was late one Friday night when Nick realized just how much Jake got it.

They were at an underground race, the usual crowd of cars and bikes lining the streets. The air was thick with engine fumes, and the asphalt gleamed under the streetlights. Nick’s Mustang was parked next to Jake’s souped-up bike. Jake had a grin on his face as he adjusted his helmet, giving Nick a playful shove. “You ready to lose, or should I give you a head start?” Jake teased, his voice always full of that cocky confidence Nick couldn’t help but admire.

“Keep talking, Jake,” Nick shot back, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

They lined up next to each other, the sound of engines revving filling the air. This race wasn’t about winning. It never really was. It was about proving something to themselves, to the world around them.

The countdown began.

“Three… two… one!”

The street erupted in a roar of engines as the race started. Nick’s Mustang surged forward, the roar of the engine drowning out everything else. But Jake was right beside him, weaving in and out of traffic like a ghost on the Ninja. For a split second, Nick glanced over at Jake, feeling the rush of adrenaline in his veins.

And in that moment, it hit him: *This is where I belong.*

It wasn’t about winning, or being the best. It was about freedom. In the chaos of racing, he felt more alive than he ever did in his perfect little world at home. The world he’d been trying to escape from.

As they reached the final stretch, Nick took a sharp turn, a dangerous one�"one that no one else would dare make. He could see Jake in his peripheral vision, pushing his bike harder, challenging him. They were close to the finish line now. The race wasn’t over, but it felt like something was.

Suddenly, Nick’s phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking his focus. He knew it was probably his parents�"probably his dad, asking why he wasn’t home. His heart started racing faster�"not because of the speed, but because of the guilt that started to creep in. For a split second, he considered stopping. But that wasn’t him.

He slammed his foot on the gas pedal, his Mustang roaring to life as he crossed the finish line with Jake hot on his tail. They both slowed down, the rush of the race still buzzing in their blood.

Jake pulled up next to him, giving him that same cocky grin. “Not bad, Nick,” he said, his voice teasing. “You almost had me there.”

Nick could feel a sense of satisfaction, but also something else�"a crack in the wall he’d built around himself. For the first time in a long while, he wasn’t thinking about what his parents would say, or how he didn’t fit in with his family. He wasn’t thinking about the next fight or the next punishment. He was just *there*, in the moment, with Jake, who saw him for who he really was, not who everyone wanted him to be.

“You know,” Nick said, his voice quieter than usual, “I’m pretty sure you let me win.”

Jake raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Yeah? Well, I guess I’ll let you think that.”

Nick chuckled, feeling the knot of tension in his chest loosen. For once, he wasn’t pretending. He didn’t have to be perfect, or the perfect son, or the perfect troublemaker. With Jake, he was just *Nick*.


Back at home, things were as expected. His parents were pissed, and Alex and Emma had given him that look�"the one that said, *What the hell did you do this time?* His mom was already lecturing him about responsibility, and his dad was silent, just shaking his head as he sipped his drink.

But Nick didn’t care. Not tonight. He was tired of trying to live up to their expectations.

As he turned to leave the room, Alex called after him, “You know, you could try to�"”

“Save it, Alex,” Nick interrupted, holding up a hand. “I don’t need another lecture tonight.”

And for once, he didn’t feel bad about it. He knew what mattered. He had his own path to follow now, and it wasn’t the one his parents had planned for him. It wasn’t the one that had been outlined in their perfect little family bubble.

Nick had something else in mind. A life that was messy, unpredictable, and full of chaos. But maybe�"just maybe�"it was the only one he’d ever been meant to live.

�"�"

Nick had been at the bar for a few hours, maybe more�"he didn’t keep track. He knew the vodka was starting to hit him hard when his head began to spin and his thoughts started to feel... foggy. But it didn’t matter. He liked the feeling. The rush, the numbness, the way it made everything else fade into the background. It was easier to breathe when he wasn’t constantly aware of his family's expectations, the way his mom judged him, the way his dad never really looked at him anymore.

He downed another shot, feeling it burn all the way down his throat. His vision was starting to blur, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to forget. Forget about being the screw-up son, the one who never fit in, the one who didn’t belong anywhere except behind the wheel of a car or on the back of his bike. His phone buzzed in his pocket�"probably his parents, wondering where he was, but Nick didn’t look at it. He didn’t care. He’d been dodging their calls all night.

As the night went on, his head got heavier, and his stomach started to churn. Nick’s blood sugar was off�"he could feel it. The familiar dizziness, the shakiness. He’d been neglecting it lately, not eating enough, not paying attention. And now it was catching up with him. But, like always, he ignored it.

“Nick,” came a voice through the haze. He turned, squinting to focus on the figure standing at the edge of the bar. It was Jake, his grin a little sharper than usual, a mixture of concern and annoyance on his face.

“You’ve had enough, man,” Jake said, stepping closer and placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder. "You okay?"

Nick’s vision was swimming, but he smiled at Jake anyway. “I’m fine,” he slurred, pushing Jake’s hand off. “Just... just need a little more fun. You should join me.”

Jake’s expression shifted, eyes narrowing. “Come on, Nick. You’re drunk. Let me get you outta here before you do something stupid.”

Nick wasn’t sure how he got to his bike, but somehow, he was there, staggering toward it with his body swaying. Jake followed, trying to grab him by the arm, but Nick yanked away. “I’m fine. I’m not some kid you need to babysit,” Nick snapped, his voice unsteady but harsh.

Jake grabbed his arm again, trying to steady him. “Nick, stop. You’re not okay. I’m taking you home.”

The words hit Nick like a slap. *Home.* The word felt suffocating. Home wasn’t a place he felt safe anymore. Home was where expectations hovered over him like a shadow, where every mistake he made felt like a betrayal. He didn’t want to go home.

"Don't tell me what to do!" Nick shouted, pushing Jake away. His feet were unsteady beneath him, and his vision was spinning out of control. In a panic, Nick swung his fist, intending to push Jake further away�"but instead, his punch landed hard against Jake’s jaw.

Jake recoiled, but he didn’t fight back. His eyes softened for just a second before he took a deep breath, like he was trying to keep himself in check.

“Damn it, Nick,” Jake muttered, wiping his lip where it had split. “You need to stop this.”

But Jake wasn’t backing off. He didn’t leave Nick to stumble around on his own. No. Jake grabbed him by the shoulders, guiding him back to the bike. “Come on,” he said quietly. “I’m taking you home. Don’t make me drag you there.”

Nick’s heart hammered in his chest, but he didn’t fight him anymore. He didn’t know if it was because he was too drunk to push back, or if it was something else�"that quiet, gentle insistence in Jake’s voice that made him feel like someone actually cared enough to do this. The ride back to his house was a blur, and all Nick could focus on was the pounding in his head.

When they reached his house, Nick was barely able to stay upright as Jake helped him off the bike. He was barely able to walk, and he felt like his body was made of lead. But he still fought every step of the way. He didn’t want to go in.

"Stay here," Nick muttered, shaking his head as Jake helped him up the steps. "I don’t want them to know... I don’t want them to see me like this."

Jake didn’t listen. “You’re not alone in this, man,” Jake said, more forceful now, trying to keep Nick on his feet. "Let’s get inside and deal with it."

Nick didn’t argue, though every part of him screamed to stay away. He didn’t want to face them.

When they reached the door, it opened before they could even knock, and there stood Nick’s mother, her expression tight, her arms folded across her chest. “Nick,” she said, her voice colder than usual. “What the hell is going on?”

Nick’s dad appeared behind her, looking equally furious, his work clothes still on. He didn’t even bother hiding the annoyance in his eyes. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

Jake stepped back slightly, unsure how to answer. He wasn’t prepared for the interrogation. “I... uh... I found Nick at the bar. He was drunk, and I brought him home.”

Nick’s mom’s eyes narrowed. “He was at a bar?” She looked at her husband, a familiar silent conversation passing between them. “Nick... I thought we had an agreement.”

Nick could barely focus on their words. His head was swimming, and his stomach churned with anxiety. The room felt like it was spinning. His parents’ voices seemed distant, but their anger was clear in the way their words cut through the air.

“You told us you’d stop all this s**t, Nick,” his dad finally spoke up, his tone ice-cold. “And now we find you in some bar, drunk, and with your *friend* here�"who, by the way, we’ve never heard of. Who is this kid?”

Jake hesitated, but he didn’t back down. “I’m Jake. I’ve known Nick for a while now. I’m not here to make things worse.”

Nick staggered forward, his body barely holding up as the words of his parents crashed down on him like a tidal wave. “I... I’m not your perfect son,” he whispered, his voice barely audible, the shame creeping up his throat like bile. “I never will be.”

His mother scoffed, her judgmental gaze burning into him. “You’re right, Nick. You’ve been nothing but trouble. And now you’ve brought *this* into our house.”

Nick turned to Jake, his vision blurry and his heart aching. He didn’t want to be here anymore. He didn’t want to feel like a disappointment. He didn’t want to face this reality where his parents, the people who were supposed to love him, couldn’t even look at him without seeing failure.

“I’m sorry,” Nick muttered, turning away and retreating to his room drunkenly before his parents could say anything more. The door slammed shut behind him, and for the first time in a long while, Nick felt completely, utterly alone.

The next few days felt like a blur to Nick, but it wasn’t a good kind of blur. His parents had locked him down like a prisoner, grounding him for what felt like an eternity after the bar night. His phone was taken away, his car parked in the garage with the keys on lockdown, and his bike�"well, that was a whole other battle that wasn’t even worth trying. They were everywhere. Watching. Waiting for him to slip up again.

They had that look in their eyes�"the one that said, *we’re giving you one last chance*, but Nick knew better. It wasn’t a chance. It was a trap. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he’d always be the screw-up. The disappointment. The one who was always doing things *wrong*.

Jake had tried to call him a couple of times, but Nick ignored it. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. Especially not Jake.

Jake... Nick wasn’t sure how he felt about him anymore. The more he thought about it, the more Nick felt betrayed. Jake had taken him home that night, like some kind of babysitter. Nick didn’t want to be *saved*. He wasn’t some charity case. He wasn’t a project that Jake needed to fix. Jake was supposed to be different�"supposed to be someone who understood, someone who saw the mess and didn’t try to clean it up, but instead, just sat there and let it be. But that wasn’t how it turned out, was it?

It wasn’t Jake’s fault, though. It was Nick’s. He’d pushed him away. Punched him. He hadn’t been able to stop himself, not that night. But now, sitting in his room under the dim light of his lamp, Nick felt so damn alone. More alone than he had ever felt in his life.

His parents were still mad at him. His mom and dad kept lecturing him every chance they got. He didn’t need to know their disappointment, their judgment. He didn’t want to hear about their “rules” or their “hopes for his future.” Because the truth was, he didn’t know what his future even was. It wasn’t clear to him anymore. It was all just fog. No direction. Just a road that was too dark to see.

But then, late one night, Nick couldn’t stand it anymore.

He waited until the house was quiet�"his parents asleep, his brother off with his girlfriend�"and then, he grabbed the keys to his Mustang. He knew they were probably tracking his phone, but he didn’t care. He could always turn off the location. He did it without hesitation. One less thing they could control.

The rain had started when Nick hit the road, the windshield wipers struggling to keep up with the sheets of water pouring down from the sky. He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t care. He just needed *space*. To think. To be alone. So he drove, feeling the familiar rumble of the engine beneath him as the rain pattered against the windows, the tires making a low hum against the slick asphalt.

It wasn’t until he got to the river�"far enough away from the house that he knew no one would find him�"that Nick finally pulled over. The place was quiet. Dark. Just the steady sound of the rain hitting the ground and the river flowing in the distance.

Nick just sat there for a while. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white. He didn’t know why he came here, really. Maybe because it was far enough from his parents, far enough from his life, that it felt like he could breathe. But still, he felt nothing but emptiness.

That’s when he remembered the bottle of vodka he had hidden under the passenger seat�"leftover from the last time he’d been here with Jake, though that felt like ages ago. He grabbed it, twisting the cap off without thinking. He took a long swig, the alcohol burning his throat, before he slammed the bottle back down into the cupholder.

He could feel it starting to work, the heat of the alcohol spreading out from his chest. But it wasn’t enough.

Nick threw the door open and stumbled out of the car, the rain instantly soaking him. He didn’t care. He just needed to feel something, anything, other than the ache in his chest. So he sank to the muddy ground, not caring that his clothes were getting ruined, that his shoes were sinking into the mud. He just sat there.

His mind raced. His thoughts were jumbled.

What was he doing? What the hell was he supposed to do with his life?

The tears came then. Quiet at first, as the rain splashed against the earth. But then louder, faster, harder. His chest heaved as sobs racked through his body.

He felt broken. Like he’d been chipped away at until there was nothing left but raw, exposed pain. His parents had a plan for him, a life they wanted him to live�"but he didn’t want it. He didn’t want to be their perfect son. He didn’t want to be anything they expected him to be. He wanted to be himself, even if that meant he was a mess.

But maybe he wasn’t even sure who he was anymore.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but Nick didn’t even look at it. Not at first.

The buzz came again, louder this time, more insistent. Nick pulled the phone out, barely able to read the screen. It was from his parents.

*Where are you?*

*What are you doing now?*

He ignored it. He couldn’t deal with them, not now, not when he felt like this.

Then, out of nowhere, another buzz. This time, it was a call, it was Jake.

Nick froze, staring at the screen, his heart skipping in his chest. For a moment, he thought about ignoring it�"pretending like he wasn’t feeling everything crashing around him.

But something stopped him. Maybe it was the raw emotion flooding through him. Maybe it was the way he felt utterly alone, like no one in the world could possibly understand. But Jake... Jake had seen him at his worst before. He didn’t judge him. He didn’t try to fix him.

So, with trembling fingers, Nick answered.

“Hey,” his voice cracked, and for a moment, he felt embarrassed. He didn’t want Jake to hear him like this. “What’s up?”

Jake’s voice was quiet, almost careful. “Nick, where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you. You okay?”

Nick let out a shaky breath, closing his eyes, trying to steady himself. But he couldn’t stop the words that tumbled out. “Yeah i’m okay. actually no i’m not, i’m… i’m… i’m at the old riverbank on the outskirts”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. Then Jake’s voice, low but firm: “I’m coming to get you. Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

Nick shook his head even though Jake couldn’t see him. “Jake, You don’t have to deal with this. I’m... I’m sorry for everything.”

Jake’s voice softened, the familiar warmth breaking through the tension. “You don’t have to apologize to me, Nick. I’m not going anywhere.”

Nick sat there in the rain, his phone clutched tightly in his hand, the weight of everything settling on his shoulders. Maybe he didn’t have to be alone.

The sound of tires crunching against the gravel was faint at first, barely noticeable above the relentless pour of rain. But then it grew louder, a car pulling up to the edge of the riverbank. Nick didn’t look up, not at first. His eyes stayed fixed on the muddy ground in front of him.

But the next sound�"the familiar scrape of a car door opening and the soft footsteps of someone approaching�"made his heart stutter in his chest. Jake.

Nick didn’t need to turn around to know it was him. He could tell by the way the rain sounded as it pelted the ground harder when someone moved through it, the way Jake’s shoes hit the mud with a steady, unhurried rhythm.

Nick bit his lip and shut his eyes, trying to control the tears that kept pushing their way out. He didn’t want Jake to see him like this. He didn’t want anyone to see him like this. He was supposed to be tough, to handle his problems by himself. But now, he felt broken. He didn’t know how to fix it.

Jake’s voice came then, low but steady, cutting through the sound of the rain. “Nick?”

Nick flinched. It wasn’t the voice of someone who was angry. Not the voice of someone who was disappointed. It was soft. Gentle. The kind of voice Nick didn’t deserve right now.

But Nick couldn’t face him. Not like this. He swallowed hard and turned his head, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, his face flushed with the remnants of tears. He tried to wipe them away quickly, hoping Jake didn’t see. But it was useless. His shoulders trembled with the effort to hide it.

Jake didn’t speak at first. He just stood there, letting the rain soak through his own clothes, the water dripping down his face as he took in the sight of Nick. Nick’s body was hunched over, his knees pulled up to his chest, as if he were trying to make himself smaller. He looked vulnerable in a way Jake had never seen before. Not like the reckless, cocky kid who always had a comeback, a joke, or a challenge. This was something else. Something fragile.

“Nick…” Jake said again, softer this time. He took a step forward, his shoes squelching in the mud. “Hey, look at me.”

Nick didn’t respond. His jaw clenched, and he hugged his knees even tighter to his chest, his back to Jake now, his posture closed off.

Jake was patient, waiting. He didn’t push. He knew this wasn’t something that could be fixed in a few seconds, that Nick wasn’t just going to open up and spill everything because Jake asked him to. But he wasn’t leaving. He wouldn’t. Not this time.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Nick turned his head, his gaze locking with Jake’s for a split second before he quickly looked away again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Why did you come?”

Jake stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Nick. He saw the way Nick was trying so hard to hold himself together, but the effort only made the pain more obvious. He could see the tears Nick was trying to hide, see how lost he was in the middle of it all.

“Because I wasn’t gonna leave you out here alone,” Jake answered simply, his voice raw with sincerity. “Because I care about you, Nick. More than you probably want me to.”

Nick flinched at that, the words striking him like a punch to the gut. He didn’t want to hear it. Not now. Not when he felt like the biggest mess in the world. He looked at the ground again, his eyes stinging with tears that he couldn’t control. The anger and frustration he'd buried for so long came rushing up, but it wasn’t aimed at Jake. It was aimed at himself.

“I’m not... I’m not some project that can be fixed, Jake,” Nick muttered, his voice tight with a mix of anger and pain. “I’m not some... broken kid you can just put back together. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing anymore. I’m just... messed up.”

Jake’s heart broke at the rawness in Nick’s voice. He sat down next to him, careful not to invade Nick’s space too much, but close enough so that Nick could feel his presence. He didn’t respond immediately. He just let the silence stretch, the rain falling around them like some kind of shield that kept the world at bay.

“Nick, listen to me,” Jake finally said, his voice unwavering but gentle. “You don’t have to be perfect. You don’t have to have everything figured out right now. Hell, I don’t either. But you don’t have to carry all this by yourself.”

Nick squeezed his eyes shut, feeling the lump in his throat get harder to ignore. He felt... exposed. Vulnerable. It was like everything he’d been holding inside for so long was finally cracking open, and he had no idea how to stop it.

Jake reached out, slowly and cautiously, placing a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “You’re not alone in this, okay?” he said softly. “You don’t have to hide from me. I get it. You’re not the only one who feels lost sometimes.”

Nick shook his head, trying to brush off Jake’s hand, but it didn’t work. Jake didn’t move. He just stayed there, his presence grounding Nick in a way that was both comforting and suffocating all at once.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” Nick muttered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m not the guy you thought I was. I’m not... the person who can handle everything. I’m not... not that guy.”

Jake sighed, his voice soft but firm as he leaned closer. “Nick,” he said, his words slow and careful. “I don’t want you to be anyone other than who you are. I don’t need you to have all the answers or be perfect. I just need you to be you.”

Jake stayed with him, not rushing him, not saying anything more. He didn’t have to.

Nick’s world felt like it was unraveling, but in that moment, surrounded by the steady presence of Jake, there was some small sense of comfort in knowing he didn’t have to go through it alone.

The rain eventually subsided, leaving behind a damp chill and the scent of petrichor.

Nick, nestled against Jake, felt the slow, steady rhythm of Jake's breathing beside him, a counterpoint
to the erratic beat of his own heart.

They sat there for a long time, the silence filled only with the
sounds of nature slowly returning to its rhythm.

Finally, Nick broke the silence.
"What’s gonna happen now?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Jake's arm tightened around him for a moment before he gently released Nick. "I'm going to take you home," Jake said quietly.

The drive back was quiet, punctuated only by the rhythmicswish of the windshield wipers. Nick leaned against the car door, his eyes fixed on the blurred lights passing by. He didn't look at Jake, didn’t speak, but the weight on his shoulders felt slightly lighter.

Once they pulled up to Nick’s house Jake followed Nick to his bedroom window, and with an easy agility Nick climbed in with Jake following.

Once inside, Nick went straight to the shower, the hot water washing away the grime and the lingering scent of rain and despair. He felt slightly better, calmer. He pulled on his pajamas and slipped into bed. Jake was already there, lying on his side, his eyes watching Nick

They lay there in comfortable silence for a while, their bodies touching, their breaths mingling.

The weight of the day seemed to lift slightly from Nick’s shoulders as the warmth of Jake’s presence enveloped him. He closed his eyes, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt safe and cared for.

Jake, drifted off to sleep, his breathing slow and even. But Nick couldn’t sleep. His mind raced, replaying the day’s events, the raw emotions of the confession, the fear and the relief.

He lay still, pretending to sleep, his eyes closed tight. Suddenly, Nick heard a familiar sound �" the soft click of his bedroom door opening. His heart
lurched. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the streetlight filtering through his curtains.

He heard his mother's footsteps, light but distinct, as she moved around his room, rummaging through his things. She seemed to be looking for something. Nick held his breath, his body rigid with a mixture of fear and anger.

Then, he heard a sharp click �" the light switch. The room was flooded with bright light. Nick's eyes flew open, and he saw his mother standing there, her face a mask of shock and disbelief.

Her gaze fell on Jake, who was still sleeping, his arm draped loosely around Nick. Nick's own arm was under Jake's, making the two look far closer and far more intimate than was entirely
necessary.

The air hung heavy, charged with a silent tension that was almost palpable. Nick's mother stared, speechless, a strange mixture of confusion and anger washing over her face. The
silence stretched, broken only by the soft sounds of Jake's breathing.

Nick braced himself forthe inevitable explosion, the flood of accusations and lectures he knew were coming. But for
now, he just lay there, watching, waiting.