Dalton's POV

I sat at the booth for a minute, taking profound, heavy, forced breaths to try and calm myself down. I shouldn't have said what I said to Jack, I realise that, but the damage has been done. He called me homophobic. That one word, that one adjective triggered something in me, like a switch. It brought back memories that I have fought for so long to repress. It brought back the feelings of anger, guilt, isolation I felt on that brutal day that I would do anything to get it erased from my mind. I snapped. Unintentional, but it still happened. I could see the fear in Jacks eyes, the hurt when I shouted at him, at the time I didn't care, but once he left abruptly, I realised my wrongdoings, almost automatically, the feeling of guilt settling, uncomfortably, at the bottom of my stomach, eating away at me for being so cruel to such a vulnerable and weak boy.

I took a deep sigh, my fists finally unclenching from their previous position and laying palm down on the booth table in front of me. I needed to fix this. I needed to talk to him, as much as my body ached to go home and punch the walls over and over and over again.

Grabbing my wallet, I cleared up the food speedily before sliding out of the chair and pacing towards my car. My hand latched onto the handle, aggressively tearing it open and throwing myself into the driver's seat, keeping my eyes trained onto the road as the engine roared to life.

Instead of searching for Jack first, I decided to head home before my parents got there and found out what he did, quickly throwing the old microwave away, before fixing the new one in its place.

In a matter of minutes from arriving home, I was back in the car again, driving from street to street, no destination in mind, only to find the boy.

A few streets had gone by, no faces looking familiar as I examined every person, and my patience began to grow thin. I didn't even understand why my body was urging me to help Jack, I didn't and still don't like the boy, but I couldn't deny the deep feeling of responsibility I had over upsetting the boy.

I regained my focus back on to the road, around ten meters or so in front of me were trees, and through the trees were a park. I knew the park was there since I used to go there, a long time ago. Some of my best memories formed there. I never really saw anyone there anymore, no more laughs and smiles, just silence. I noticed a figure on the bench I used to climb on, pretending the floor was lava whist manically screaming for everyone to get off the ground. Ever so slightly, a small smile pulled at the corner of my lips, recalling them memories that seemed to warm my heart a little.

I don't know what made me think the figure could have been Jack, honestly, it could have been anyone. But no one was ever at this park. It was always empty, always. I jumped out of the car making my way, easily, through the twists and turns of the faded forest path that lead to the opening of the park. The quite muffles and sobs confirmed my theory, it was indeed Jack.

As I grew closer, making sure to keep the noises I were making to a minimum to not startle him, I etched my way towards the bench, finally standing in front of the shaking boy. He had his knees tucked up towards his chest, his small arms clutching at them as he held tightly. His head was laid on his knees, facing down, unaware of my presence and his surroundings. I could hear him sniffle almost every second, and soft whimpers that left his lips, echoing a ball of guilt through me.

"Jack." I whispered, reaching my hand out to gently tap his shoulder.

He looked up, flinching at my hand being in a close proximity to him. Unintentionally frowning, I retracted my hand, coolly shoving it into my front pocket. His head fell again as he hurriedly wiped the tears from his tainted face, clearing his throat too and rubbing his nose, trying desperately to hide the fact that he was crying, even though it was obvious.

"What a-are you doing h-here?" He voiced through a very dry throat, keeping his face from my view. I took a deep breath, placing myself on the space next to him on the bench, gazing at the side of his face.

"I'm sorry, Jack." I sighed. I wasn't very good at apologies, I didn't apologise often, usually because I didn't care about other people, nor their feelings. But Jack was different, because he was vulnerable, weak, hurting. I was hurting too, and I acted so cold towards others, yet he was so kind, caring. "I really am, I didn't mean any of the shit I said back there, you brought up the fact that I may be homophobic and, I don't know, it just hit a sensitive spot, I guess." I swallowed my pride in an attempt to help the situation. I felt a shift in the bench and the soft whimpers and sniffles had become gradually less occurring.

"I'm really sorry too, I d-didn't realise I would h-hurt you. I'm sorr-" I rolled my eyes, swiftly cutting him off.

"There's nothing to be sorry about, I was the dick not you."

"Y-yeah but-"

"No buts, you have nothing to be apologising over, okay? Maybe I'll tell you one day, tell you about all the shit I've bottled up for so fucking long." I scooted back in my seat, leaning my back off the bench and looking up at the morning sky.

Even though I wasn't looking in that direction, I felt Jack's head rise at that comment, and I could just see in my peripheral vision a tiny grin that grew on his face.

"I'm so screwed, Dalton." He mumbled through sniffles.

"What?" I shifted my body to face him as he fiddled with his fingers, nervously.

"I am so utterly s-screwed, I m-mean I don't h-have any parents, o-or a f-family, or friends or uhm anything, I b-barely h-have a house to live in." Tears had found their way to his eyes once again, hurriedly rushing down his swollen, crimson red cheeks. I noticed the way his bottom lip quivered gently in the morning breeze and how his eyes would fly shut, only to reopen once again a deeper shade of sapphire blue. His cheeks were red, a deep red that crawled up to the tip of his ears. His eyebrows were furrowed, yet he was the furthest thing from looking angry or intimidating.

"You do have a home, you live with us. I may not be totally happy with the situation but that's just something I have to get used to." My hand found its way to Jacks shoulder, gently tracing circles against it to calm him down. His shoulder tensed at first, stiff as a statue, but after a second or two, he relaxed, accepting the rare gesture from me.it was a weird sensation, I wasn't good at physical contact, but it just felt necessary to do so.

"I know, and I am forever grateful of that, but I just feel like I'm intruding, but t-thank you for trying t-to get used to it." He took a deep breath in, subtly biting his lip. It was such a subtle action, almost unnoticeable, but I noticed it. I noticed it instantly. My eyes were drawn to his lips, how they were trying to hold back the whimpers, how they were still ever so tainted with tears.

"You're welcome, and we should probably head back home soon. My parents may be home and might wonder where we ran off to." I cleared my throat, ripping my eyes from his soft mouth.

In a second, he was sat up straight, forcefully wiping the salty tears away from his eyes and taking breaths to cool his rapid breathing. I let him do his thing for a second before he stood up, gazing sadly at me.

"Okay." He said in the softest voice, it was almost inaudible.

I began to walk to the car, Jack sluggishly following behind, keeping his distance. We swiftly got in the car, and the journey home was quiet. Not a word was uttered from either Jack or I. He just stayed facing the window, his back to me as he indulged in the trees on the other side of the glass. Once we arrived back home, I shuffled upstairs to my room to be alone. I know it is now technically Jack's room as well, but I also know he wouldn't dare follow me. He gets that I want to be alone right now.

I closed my door, dramatically slouching down onto my bed. My eyes were getting heavy as my vision blurred, seconds from falling asleep when my phone vibrated from my pocket.