"Dinner's ready, boys!" My mother called from the bottom of the stairs, her voice bellowing through the thin walls of the house.

Jack and I were currently in my room, me sitting comfortably in my gaming chair, eyes trained solely on the flashing screen before me. Jack was sat on his mattress, which was leaned up against the same wall my desk sat at, huddled in the corner of the two freakishly white surfaces, legs crossed with a book cleverly balanced across his frail knees. Reading was something Jack adored. He always had a book clasped in his small hands, always throwing around new words that he'd learnt from age old paper, always imagining vacuous stories that only the head of a fiction author, with a mind fixed miles outside of the box, could intricately weave together.

Reluctantly, I grasped the weighty headset that hung against my head, ripping it off, instantly missing the screeches of excitement and screams of anger as I adjusted back to reality. Jack has since gotten up, his book neatly stacked above his other six books that he'd managed to collect over the course of a few weeks.

We both walked downstairs together, entering the kitchen in a bearable silence. My stomach was growing hungry and the scent of food that seemed to linger up to the staircase only made my belly rumble and cry, begging for a meal.

"I made homemade cannelloni; I hope that's okay." My mother's sickly-sweet voice vibrated through my head, only exemplifying my need to eat.

"Perfect. Cheers mum." I grabbed my plate off the marble counter, observing the food. The plate was plain white, scratches of previous meals looming over what lay there currently. Above sat long thick tubes of pasta, stuffed with a divine mix of forest spinach and golden minced beef, heavenly intertwined. Peppered along the top was sprinkles of cheese, melted and crisp from the heat of the oven. Of course, when my eyes flickered to Jack, his plate of one of our special plates, an expensive china purchased in a vintage gift store deep in the mountains of France, a family holiday a few years ago. The plate was blessed with elegant patterns, hours and hours of hardship and labour evidently glowing through the eloquent swirls and crosses. The precious china was brought in a set, a fellow three other plates always laying vacant in the cupboards because dad and I weren't attentive and delicate enough to get our hands on them. "Look with your eyes." She would always bore into my head, like a cassette tape, stuck in a loop, permanently reprimanding me as if I didn't get the message the first time.

As I turned on my heel to head back upstairs, following my normal routine, my mum made a disappointed whine, a frown climbing onto her face.

"Sit down here with us for once, Dalton." She tried. She was entering the dining room, stabilising two plates in her arms, handing one to my father and one to Jack, who politely thanked her and helped with glasses of water.

"Why?" I spoke, slightly annoyed that I couldn't run away from this situation and fulfil my swelling desire to divulge in this Italian beauty gripped in my growing tired hand.

"Please, Dalton. I cooked us this meal, and we have a guest coming over." A guest? I was never informed of a guest.

"Who?" I was slowly creeping my way back to the door where my plan was to sneak out and run upstairs before they could stop me.

"You know Grayson, right? Jack's friend." Jack had a nervous, apologetic smile on his face, like he was predicting my pending reaction of being pissed. He knew I didn't like Grayson, or at least I hope I did. I feel like I made it pretty obvious.

"You're kidding?" I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head, a groan of annoyance slipping from my lips as the pent-up anger towards that fucking boy came rushing back to my head, leaving me dizzy with hatred.

"Just sit down, son." My father stepped in, placing a reassuring hand on my mum's shoulder, to which she leaned into gratefully.

"Fine." I spat. I begrudgingly trampled to the dining room table, throwing my plate down and aggressively pulling my chair out, purposely making as much disturbance as I was capable of. I hadn't decided to stay and eat downstairs out of the respect of the guest or my family. No, of course not. I stayed to keep an eye on Jack whilst his slimy little friend was here, my job was to make sure they had as little interaction possible.

Our table sat six people, three on each side, and even after my disapproval, a plate was set for Grayson in the empty seat on Jack's right side, whilst I sat on his other side. If I end up third wheeling, I am going to kill someone.

Soon enough, the doorbell rang, leading to Jack practically skipping to the front door, opening it with excitement. They hugged, as if they hadn't seen each other in years, yet he was in our house 4 days ago. Watching Grayson weave his arms around Jack made me clench my jaw. My hands were gripped to the bottom of my chair, restraining myself from marching up to him and ripping his head off. My possessive side had claimed my entire being, burning at my skin.

My whole family greeted him as one of their own, pulling a chair out for him and everything. The hatred I had for this boy was bubbling over, soon to explode. Once everyone was settled, comfortably digging into the now warm meals, a conversation began to spark between them. It was only small talk to free the air of its pungent silence that reeked in every corner. Simple topics like school and family came up first, Grayson firing back each question with a smooth pre-calculated answer. And then the inevitable happened.

"So, any girls that have your interest at the moment?" My dad proposed, with eyes trained down to his food. I could tell he wasn't really interested, as I was too, yet he was only making an effort for my mum. The silver-tongued Grayson who had a smart answer for everything was now crimson red, mouth opening and closing as he struggled to think of a suitable answer.

"Or boys, too." My mother, noticing his instant discomfort, added with a non-judgemental grin glowing from her face.

"Oh, um, well, I uh" he struggled, but Jack, being the angel he was, whispered something in his ear which instantaneously calmed him down, him giving a quick composed nod before continuing. Although I know he was only helping, Jack shouldn't have been that close to him, not then, not ever.

"I like boys." He breathed, eyes quickly flickering from my mum to my dad and back again, searching for any judgement in their eyes, only to come up empty handed. He turned to Jack quickly, flashing him a thankful smile before expanding on his point.

They spoke about how Grayson came out, shit like that, whilst I sat silently, mixing the food around on my plate with a scowl fixed on my face. For someone who felt starving before this meal, I sure did lose my appetite quickly.

"You know, boys, maybe it is just me, but I think you two would make the sweetest couple." My mum gleamed, pointing in between the two of them before clasping her hands together and staring at them in awe. Instead of getting awkward too like I would expect Jack to under a situation like this, he simply laughed slightly, turning to the weirdo and smiling at him. There was no denying, no shyness, nothing.

To say I was furious was an understatement. I tried to stay and not make a scene all night, I really did try, but I couldn't handle it anymore. Jealousy was itching at my skin like a terminal virus. Only a few days ago, Jack was laying in my arms, crying and telling me he lied to Grayson, now he's indirectly telling the world that there is a possibility that they could date. My chest was heaving, resent and envy and detestation contaminating my body mercilessly.

I threw myself up from my chair, letting it fall backwards and crash against the floor. This loud clash turned everyone's heads, confusion painting their faces as they wondered why I was glaring at the world.

"I'm fucking done with this." Like the real two-year-old I was, I stomped out of the dining room and up the stairs, satisfied when I was sure their judging eyes weren't following me anymore.

Around three hours had passed now, my PS4 had become boring, the only game I wanted to play needing a vast and timely update. Jack and his fucking boyfriend were still downstairs sucking up to my parents. Every now and then, the shadows of laughter that I knew too familiarly to be Jack's would enter my territory.

Jack soon crept upstairs however, delicately stepping into the room with a shy smile on his face; he was finally alone and looked as if he were betraying my parents by showing kindness towards me.

"Hey." He whispered as he stepped over my shit that had been abandoned across the carpet. He manoeuvred his petite body parts through the maze of clothes, careful to avoid my belongings before he sat on his bed, silent as a corpse.

"Hi." I spoke quickly, not particularly in the mood for talking. The room was now dark, lights switched off and blinds hiding any available light from peaking in through the foggy glass. I was laying on my bed, phone latched in my possession as I aimlessly scrolled through snapchat stories, barely giving any snap the time of day. Frankly, I didn't care what others were doing. I didn't care that they were getting drunk in a field. I didn't care that they were eating a five-star meal. I didn't care.

"You k-know about earlier..." He stuttered on his words, nerves singing in his voice like a choir. His anxious mind was now a hymn that I could recite, I memorised the notes, cords, tones, paces, everything. I memorised him.

"Yes." I rolled my eyes. I guessed he would want to talk about earlier, but it still didn't change my decision to resist against it. I couldn't be bothered to explain myself.

"What h-happened?" His voice was barely a whisper now, as quiet as a graveyard.

"You practically fucking Grayson right in front of me, that's what happened." I hadn't meant to tell Jack, for some reason desiring to keep this covetousness to myself, yet, as I saw him stood timidly in my doorway, arms wrapped around his chest self-consciously, it only reminded me of how much I wanted something that I couldn't have.

His eyes widened at the speed of a gun shot as he took in my profane accusation, burgundy blood rushing to the surface of his cheeks in a millisecond. "W-what?" He asked, voice cracking in the short one-syllable word he muttered.

"Fuck off, Jack. I'm not in the mood for this bullshit." I stood up and ripped my clothes from my body, huffing over dramatically as I did so, only to jump back into bed, creating an excessive amount of disruption to the silence that tried to linger.

"I d-don't u-understand, Dalton. We didn-" Jack sounded close to tears at this point, but due to the concentrated bitterness that fogged my mind, I merely shrugged it off.

"I said fuck off." My frustration was boiling at this point, soon to bubble over as I yelled at the innocent boy. Maybe at another time where I wasn't pissed off at the universe, I would have tried to let him give an excuse, an explanation, anything, but I was pissed. I didn't even listen to what he generally had to say, I didn't want to listen.

I heard him sniff slightly after I shouted, and then the silence fell again, a thick drape dangling above the both of us. My phone was shut off soon after and then minutes later I was asleep, a rage fuelled dream invading my sleep.

The next morning went by quickly, I didn't speak to Jack nor did I communicate with my parents. They were in the house, just avoiding me, which was perfect for me. They couldn't go out anyway, today was ridiculously cold, one of the coldest days we have had in a few years, with temperatures dropping to sub-zero. The reports were convinced it was dangerous to be outside due to the icy winds and heavy hail that poured from the thick mists of grey that pondered from above.

It must have been around 6pm now, the clanging of pots and pans downstairs bouncing through the house. That's when my door opened for the first time today.

"Hey." Jack appeared in my line of sight, slightly pale and nervous. His voice was still a whisper, hidden under rough layers of overthinking and anxiety. He was clad in a plain white top, short sleeves wrapped around his light muscles, that I had bought for him and jeans my mother gave him because he's 'just the sweetest.'

"What do you want?" I shrugged, not really feeling like I was up for discussing what occurred in the late hours of last night.

"Uhm, well, I um..." He trailed off. His hands were clasped together, fidgeting with each other in a worried manner.

"Spit it out." My patience was running thin at this point in time, like thin paper, ready to rip at any moment.

He flinched, which for a split second, I felt guilty for. I didn't mean to make him feel as he did around me, but my mood had been gnawing at me for hours now, and it influenced my short temper.

"Well, I uh- Katherine asked if you could go to the s-shop quickly and grab a few things for d-dinner." He stumbled on his words; eyes were glued to the stained carpet that tingled against his bare feet.

"Me? Why can't you go?" My eyebrows knitted.

"W-well I offered to go but your mother insisted t-that it was you."

"Just sneak out and take my car." I concluded, getting up from my previous position, squashed in multiple covers and pillows, and reached my desk where my keys lay, and chucked them at him, to which, for once, he actually caught them, a shocked expression drawn over his facial features.

"O-okay. Sorry." He left swiftly before I got the chance to ask why he was apologising when he was doing a chore that I had been tasked to do. He was the one helping me.

I listened for a few minutes, only just hearing the front door gently open and close before the car engine ignited, yet somehow unlike my adventures when the engine roars to life, Jack made it quiet, as if it were taking after him.

Once the echoes of the wheels abrading against the rough concrete had subsided, my mind went back to my phone, erratically scrolling through Instagram.

My feed was suddenly paused around ten minutes later, Jack's name written in bold white handwriting, positioned over a photo of him and I at the arcade popped up, pausing my video of the goal highlights in a recent football game I missed.

With a sigh and a swift roll of my eyes I pressed the neon green button in the right corner.

"What?" I answered rudely, expecting him to need help with some pointless shit like which shade of green lettuce my mum would prefer.

However, I jumped to conclusions too soon because as soon as I heard his voice, the realisation that something was wrong hit me instantaneously.

"Dalton, p-please help m-me." He sniffed between words; his voice was unbelievably shaky.

"Hey, what happened? Jack, are you okay? Was there a crash? Are you hurt?" My back was now straight as I sat up, as if it would help me concentrate on his words more.

"No, no there wasn't a crash but-but I-"

"Jack, breath, okay. Please tell me what's happened." My heart was racing, at least he wasn't in a crash. The thought of him tangled up in car ruins like a rag doll made me feel sick.

He took a deep breath before speaking again. "I'm scared, Dalton. The c-car, it just broke down. But it broke down in a bad place." He finally squeezed out.

"Where did it break down?" I asked, jumping up from the bed and getting my jacket and shoes on, I had to go get him. I had to go save him. I had to go save my boy.

"You k-know the roundabout just before the services, right in the middle of that."

"The really fucking busy roundabout?" I questioned, my eyes shutting tightly as I thought of a plan to get him.

"Yes, the r-really busy one. And c-cars are flying by me, D-Dalton, l-like really fast. It's so dark too, they probably can't e-even see me." His voice was becoming more panicked by the second, I could hear the deep breaths and slight whimpers through the phone every time there were cars speeding past.

"Are you in the car?" I asked, finally running down the stairs and shouting for mum.

"Y-Yes."

"Get out, Jack. Get out and get far away from the car. Are the hazard lights on?" He let out a soft 'mhm' in between the racket of the car door opening.

"Mum, I'm going out, Jack needs help." I spoke so rushed, I was doubtful they understood what I said, however it didn't matter.

I ran to the kitchen and through the side door that took you into the garage and grabbed the petrol can that still contained petrol from when I last needed it. Fuck, I should have kept it in the car, then Jack would be safe.

Jack, right. I was on the phone to him. I began listening again through my rushed actions, awkwardly trying to keep the phone to my ear as I manoeuvred my way through the garage back into the house to get the keys.

"Jack, are you okay?" I checked, just to reassure myself.

I knew he said something, but I couldn't quite hear over the mean rustling of the wind.

Shit. The temperature. Jack's outside in the hail. Jack, the boy only wearing a short-sleeved top and jeans was out in this monstrous weather. The thought of Jack being cold and suffering from the icy night wind sent chills down my back.

"Fuck, Jack. I promise I'll be there soon. Please be safe." I finally spoke as I grasped my mother's keys from the hook that they lived on just before you reached the front door and ran out of the house.

As I left, she was bombarding me with questions, a concerned look looming over her face, but I didn't have time to explain.

I needed to get Jack before he either froze to death or got too cold and got back into the car, which has the chance of being hit any second.

I jumped into my mum's car, feeling the rain drop down my forehead in the short seconds I were outside, throwing my phone on my lap and ensuring it was on speaker so I could try and muster what Jack was saying. Kicking the engine to life, I skidded down the driveway and onto the road in a matter of seconds.

Sweat was dripping down my face at this point, my heart was racing like a drum, unsteady and rapid. I wasn't sure if it was even legal to drive when my body was going as insane as it was.

The winds roared as they flew by the car, a violent mix of rain and hail hammering down onto the car windscreen. With my mind solely on Jack and his wellbeing and the windscreen being fogged up by the wrath of Mother Nature, not crashing was a difficult task, and my growing anxiety as I grew closer and closer only made this more difficult.

Jack had to be okay. He had to be. Any reasons of why I was annoyed at Jack had long been dissolved into the puddles of misery that lay disturbed under the callous friction of the overworked tires.

I was so close, nearly at the nightmare roundabout. I knew that roundabout like the back of my hand. It was large, with 7 different exits, which meant cars were entering and exiting perennially at speeds which were not legal. It was a large roundabout, speeding was an easy and exciting method, however, the thought of Jack being injured by someone who was speeding made my blood boil. It made me never want to break the speed limit again, except now, when I had an important place to be; an important someone to save.

I reached a turn in point of the road to which I swiftly pulled into, grasping the canister and bolting out of the car, abandoning it carelessly.

I ran over to where my car was parked, thankful