Categories > Celebrities > My Chemical Romance > Infinity
Chapter One. - A Boy Named Jack
If you have ever felt love, you will truly understand what it feels like, to feel so lonely and desolate, and then to feel so overjoyed and wonderful. Maybe you fell in love with a dog, or a band, or even a pair of shoes. I will freely admit that, for a long while, I thought that my definition of love laid with a girl named Lisa, who liked alcohol and parties and French kissing with a passion. How wrong I was to think my deep affections could ever lie with a girl such as Lisa. I thought she was who I would make love to every night, and the woman whose petite hand would be forever entwined with mine. I still wonder what sort of false emotion I felt when I pressed my lips heatedly to hers. I still dream, occasionally, of kissing her pale body, tracing my calloused fingertips over the swell of her breasts, tangling my fingers in her soft hair. I really could go on forever with my reminiscing, but my story isn't about a girl named Lisa.
It's about a boy named Jack.
It was the first day of Year Nine. I was sixteen, not yet legal to drink, but I did anyway, like most teenagers have done and will continue to do. I was a little hungover, I will admit, I had spent my last night of 'freedom' out with two good friends, drinking my way into something I would undoubtedly regret in the morning. As it happened, my hangover included at least three trips to my bathroom to vomit up a mixture of vodka, beer, tequila and Diet Coke, a pounding headache and a body that positively reeked of alcohol. I made no effort to hide my state from my mother. I knew all I would elicit from the elder woman was a click of the tongue and a shake of her head. She neither approved nor disapproved of my habits, and I ought to thank her for that. However, she showed no sympathy to my somewhat pathetic image, and sent me to school anyway - another thing I should thank her for.
Tapping my fingers against my thighs, I looked up from my lap, and up at the clock. Time seemed to drag by at a snail's pace, especially when I wanted to get out of this class - this class being my sixth-period Biology lesson. The only lessons I could ever really care for were Music, and English. The two things seemed to come hand in hand when it came to my chosen future career - music. Music was an essential part of me, and Zack, a close friend of mine, often joked that if you slit my skin, only music would pour out, no deliciously warm scarlet blood. Speaking of music, my earphones were nestled in, the melodic sound of Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit pouring into my ears and seemingly lighting up the room. Over my music, I heard the ancient door crack open, and at that moment, I swear I felt completely and utterly weightless. I had never seen anything nearly as breathtakingly beautiful as the boy now standing at the front of the classroom, nibbling anxiously on his visibly-battered lower lip. I wondered if he had Avoidant Personality Disorder - the kind of person that hated social occasions with a violent passion, because they felt like no one would like them. Or maybe I was wrong, and he was just shy, and somewhat hyperactive.
"This is Jack Barakat, class."
His name sounded perfect rolling from my tongue. Jack. It reminded me of a song lyric. We can live like Jack and Sally if we want to. How one word, four letters, could sound so utterly effect was beyond me, but somehow, it did, and I was so thankful for it. My eyes scanned over his frame and I was utterly breathless.
The boy was absolutely fucking beautiful, that's for sure. His shirt clung to his muscle-less upper body, and I could see a tiny hint of a tattoo poking out from the top of his Blink-182 shirt. His ebony hair fell in careless swirls across his olive skin, partially covering one chocolate brown eye. I bit my lip, harder than normal. I could taste salty, metallic blood in my mouth, but I didn't even really care. It seemed minor, compared to the state my head was in. I couldn't drag my eyes away from the boy. Jeans tight around his stick-like legs, cupping everything that needed to be cupped, I was sure I was hallucinating. Now, by no means was I stating that I was gay. I had dated girls, yes, but there was always something that a boy had that a girl just didn't. I didn't know back then and I still don't know now, but it seemed to me that Jack had that special something, and I hadn't even heard the boy talk yet. I watched his eyes roam around the classroom before they met mine, and I dropped my head, cheeks tinting a light rose pink.
"Why don't you go sit next to Alexander?" Oh, how I cursed my first name. Alexander.
"It's Alex," I muttered beneath my breath as the beautiful boy slid next into the vacant seat beside me.
"H-hi," he whispered, almost as if out of breath. Even when whispering, I could tell that his voice was beautiful, like an angel. I had already decided that this boy was to be my own personal angel, and I would befriend him at any cost.
"New to Baltimore?" I asked quietly, careful to keep my voice down to avoid getting detention. My Biology teacher, Mr. Hampton, got a little detention-happy sometimes, it was actually quite irritating.
"Yeah," he murmured, chewing on his lip again. Mr. Hampton shot me one of his death glares, the kind you get when you know you're getting a detention, and I took that as my cue to shut up and focus. My mind was still way off, though, nestled with the beautiful boy with the bitten lips.
If you have ever felt love, you will truly understand what it feels like, to feel so lonely and desolate, and then to feel so overjoyed and wonderful. Maybe you fell in love with a dog, or a band, or even a pair of shoes. I will freely admit that, for a long while, I thought that my definition of love laid with a girl named Lisa, who liked alcohol and parties and French kissing with a passion. How wrong I was to think my deep affections could ever lie with a girl such as Lisa. I thought she was who I would make love to every night, and the woman whose petite hand would be forever entwined with mine. I still wonder what sort of false emotion I felt when I pressed my lips heatedly to hers. I still dream, occasionally, of kissing her pale body, tracing my calloused fingertips over the swell of her breasts, tangling my fingers in her soft hair. I really could go on forever with my reminiscing, but my story isn't about a girl named Lisa.
It's about a boy named Jack.
It was the first day of Year Nine. I was sixteen, not yet legal to drink, but I did anyway, like most teenagers have done and will continue to do. I was a little hungover, I will admit, I had spent my last night of 'freedom' out with two good friends, drinking my way into something I would undoubtedly regret in the morning. As it happened, my hangover included at least three trips to my bathroom to vomit up a mixture of vodka, beer, tequila and Diet Coke, a pounding headache and a body that positively reeked of alcohol. I made no effort to hide my state from my mother. I knew all I would elicit from the elder woman was a click of the tongue and a shake of her head. She neither approved nor disapproved of my habits, and I ought to thank her for that. However, she showed no sympathy to my somewhat pathetic image, and sent me to school anyway - another thing I should thank her for.
Tapping my fingers against my thighs, I looked up from my lap, and up at the clock. Time seemed to drag by at a snail's pace, especially when I wanted to get out of this class - this class being my sixth-period Biology lesson. The only lessons I could ever really care for were Music, and English. The two things seemed to come hand in hand when it came to my chosen future career - music. Music was an essential part of me, and Zack, a close friend of mine, often joked that if you slit my skin, only music would pour out, no deliciously warm scarlet blood. Speaking of music, my earphones were nestled in, the melodic sound of Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit pouring into my ears and seemingly lighting up the room. Over my music, I heard the ancient door crack open, and at that moment, I swear I felt completely and utterly weightless. I had never seen anything nearly as breathtakingly beautiful as the boy now standing at the front of the classroom, nibbling anxiously on his visibly-battered lower lip. I wondered if he had Avoidant Personality Disorder - the kind of person that hated social occasions with a violent passion, because they felt like no one would like them. Or maybe I was wrong, and he was just shy, and somewhat hyperactive.
"This is Jack Barakat, class."
His name sounded perfect rolling from my tongue. Jack. It reminded me of a song lyric. We can live like Jack and Sally if we want to. How one word, four letters, could sound so utterly effect was beyond me, but somehow, it did, and I was so thankful for it. My eyes scanned over his frame and I was utterly breathless.
The boy was absolutely fucking beautiful, that's for sure. His shirt clung to his muscle-less upper body, and I could see a tiny hint of a tattoo poking out from the top of his Blink-182 shirt. His ebony hair fell in careless swirls across his olive skin, partially covering one chocolate brown eye. I bit my lip, harder than normal. I could taste salty, metallic blood in my mouth, but I didn't even really care. It seemed minor, compared to the state my head was in. I couldn't drag my eyes away from the boy. Jeans tight around his stick-like legs, cupping everything that needed to be cupped, I was sure I was hallucinating. Now, by no means was I stating that I was gay. I had dated girls, yes, but there was always something that a boy had that a girl just didn't. I didn't know back then and I still don't know now, but it seemed to me that Jack had that special something, and I hadn't even heard the boy talk yet. I watched his eyes roam around the classroom before they met mine, and I dropped my head, cheeks tinting a light rose pink.
"Why don't you go sit next to Alexander?" Oh, how I cursed my first name. Alexander.
"It's Alex," I muttered beneath my breath as the beautiful boy slid next into the vacant seat beside me.
"H-hi," he whispered, almost as if out of breath. Even when whispering, I could tell that his voice was beautiful, like an angel. I had already decided that this boy was to be my own personal angel, and I would befriend him at any cost.
"New to Baltimore?" I asked quietly, careful to keep my voice down to avoid getting detention. My Biology teacher, Mr. Hampton, got a little detention-happy sometimes, it was actually quite irritating.
"Yeah," he murmured, chewing on his lip again. Mr. Hampton shot me one of his death glares, the kind you get when you know you're getting a detention, and I took that as my cue to shut up and focus. My mind was still way off, though, nestled with the beautiful boy with the bitten lips.
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