Far From Home - Chapter 28: Chapter 28

Late November
Despite the fact that Jake had spent an hour staring at his closet wondering what the hell to wear to a date, he ended up landing on an outfit he would have worn any other day. He tried every combination of shirt and jeans that he could, but in the end, he wound up back in his darkest pair of jeans, a plain black t-shirt, his favorite black jacket and the white Converse he wore with every outfit like they were somehow suitable for every occasion. While he had initially been nervous that Connor would wear something nice enough to make him feel like an idiot, Connor showed up at his door in his black football hoodie with his favorite green flannel on top and Jake caught on to the outfit immediately. Their first first date had ended with Connor in his hoodie, and now their next first date would begin with it. It made him want to kiss that ridiculous sentimental smile off of Connor's face the moment he saw him, but he elected instead for bumping into his shoulder as they walked downtown trying to find something to eat.
They ended up in a restaurant Jake had never heard of. Connor picked it because he liked the artwork outside, and Jake agreed because he had never had a taco that didn't come from Taco Bell since his mother had never made anything close to resembling Mexican food. He had come to realize there was actually a lot of food that he had never tried before, but he never ventured off campus long enough to stop and eat. This was the first time for a lot of things. His first public date with Connor, his first time eating off campus, his first time eating a real taco...
His first time realizing there were so many people around him, yet not one of them looked familiar.
Jake couldn't help watching the room for a familiar face to remind him of how unsafe this night would have been back home. Although he wouldn't tell Connor, he had chosen to sit along the back wall so he could see the door and all the buzzing bodies that came through it—in and out at their own pace, changing the room's scenery with every new couple or every girl's-night gang. He was waiting for someone he knew. Rationality aside, he was convinced the next petite woman that came through the door would be his mother, or that the burly man that came in behind her would be his father. It didn't matter that his parents were over a hundred miles away getting ready to host Thanksgiving dinner the next day, or that even if they had been in the city, the likelihood they would stop for tacos—of all things—was extremely slim. None of that mattered because a man with his father's graying blond hair came through the door with a girl who had the same honey brown curls as his sister and he nearly stopped breathing.
Fucking hell.
His fingers curled around the chain of his necklace as he stared at them—blinking the stark differences into his head until he could convince himself that his family hadn't just walked into the room. It came slowly, but eventually the man smiled as the McKenna-look-alike talked up to him and Jake could convince himself with one-hundred percent certainty that his father never smiled, and if he ever did, it was never at his kids.
"The asada one is heaven..." Connor mumbled after a bite of taco that he held in his hand like it was the best thing he'd ever had. "You have to try it."
Jake's attention drifted from the door to look at Connor, his mind lost somewhere else in the room even though his eyes landed on Connor right in front of him.
"Hm?" He raised his eyebrows in question.
"That one." Connor pointed to the taco on their tray furthest to the left. "Try it."
Jake didn't bother with a response because his head wasn't in it enough to register what Connor was saying. Connor had pointed out to a taco, so Jake picked it up without asking what he was getting himself into, took a bite and realized it actually was quite good, but not good enough to center his attention back to eating it. He absently set it back down on the tray, letting his hand rest next to it as his eyes flipped back up to scan the room again.
"Are you good?"
Connor didn't try to catch his gaze, but Jake wandered back to his voice anyways. Their eyes met for a moment, but somehow Jake couldn't stay there for long. He found himself looking back at the taco he had set down, reminding himself that Connor would notice him not eating, if he hadn't already. It was concerning enough for Jake to pay attention to the table again.
Take a deep breath. Focus. Eat. Talk.
Be fucking normal for one night.
"Yeah, sorry." He faked a smile.
Connor nodded back, but Jake knew him well enough to know he hadn't been convincing.
Talk, Jake. Focus.
"Um... did you catch up on your work today?"
"Sorta." Connor grimaced. "I've got some notes to do for bio still."
"Well, not like there's anything to do tomorrow." Jake traced a line in the wood grain of their table.
"I know. Think I might head to the library if you wanted to come."
"Yeah." Jake nodded. "Sure."
Pretending only got him so far before his body was willing to call his bluff. Dizziness hit him out of nowhere as he glanced between Connor, the table, and the door. He tried blinking back the unsettling haze that fell over him as his heart raced in his chest, but he felt like passing out the longer he tried to distract himself with conversation that was going nowhere. His eyes came back to the door in the hopes that maybe his body wouldn't feel so disoriented once he had returned to awareness, but it didn't soothe the overwhelming commotion in his head pointing out how bright the lights were, how loud the music was, and how many people were in the room all at once.
If Jake hadn't known what a near-death experience actually felt like, he might have mistaken this feeling for dying.
He was still, he knew that much. Even if his head felt like he was spinning, his body was still in one place—frozen in his seat trying to conserve as much of his energy as possible. Where his hand might have typically drifted up to his chest to find something to grab ahold of, his fingers laid motionless on the table, too numb for Jake to feel alive. Whatever this was, it felt familiar and distant at the same time. It felt like breaking down, but it was too quiet. It didn't hit him like a truck that demanded to be felt as it crushed him, it washed over him like a wave that sought to take him down as quietly as possible—suffocating him until he didn't want to fight for his life anymore.
It was panic, but Jake couldn't feel it anymore.
He couldn't feel the breaths that came in a little too shallow to be calm. He couldn't feel his voice, covered up by the lump in his throat that told him trying conversation once was too much. He couldn't feel the hunger that should have been biting at his stomach from not eating since that morning or the reminiscent taste of the one bite of food he had just taken. He could feel the heat of the building, stifling and suffocating. He could feel the ringing in his ears from every voice in the room he tried to make out but couldn't. He could feel Connor's eyes on him, but he couldn't feel the need to look away from the door to meet them.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Can I just get through one fucking night with him?
One of Connor's fingers tapped out twice on the top of his hand, just enough to catch his attention without grabbing on to his hand in a room full of people. Connor never tried to reach out for him in public, he always left that choice up to Jake. Even in a place as unknown as this city, Jake had only found the courage to do it once—on the Fourth of July. That night had been experienced behind rose-colored glasses that let him feel like he was safe to do whatever he wanted in a crowd where no one paid attention to him or what he did. It didn't feel so reassuring now. This wasn't a one-night event in a busy city with people from all over the state who didn't care if he was gay. This was an ordinary Wednesday night in a slightly less-crowded atmosphere with people who they might go to school with, who might give a damn to follow them home if they felt so inclined. No amount of convincing himself that they were safe made it feel any less like being out back home. Even being over a hundred miles away he was stuck there. And through it all, Connor could tell. He left his hand out on the table a couple inches away from Jake's, but Jake couldn't find it in himself to take it.
Connor knows. He knows.
Fuck, he knows.
Goddamnit, Jake. Just one fucking night.
"Hey." Connor's voice caught his attention.
Jake looked over to him and swallowed thickly, unable to speak even if he could find any words to say. He scoured Connor's face for disappointment, but all he found was a soft—nearly unnoticeable—smile and stationary eyes that twinkled under the different colored lights of the room. There were few times since getting back together that Jake could say Connor looked undoubtedly warm with no hidden reservations lingering, but this was definitely one of them.
"Do you want to take this back and watch a movie or something?" He shrugged, annoyed by something imaginary. "It's too loud in here."
You don't have to do this for me.
It's not your fault I can't deal with stupid shit.
But Jake nodded anyway. He didn't have any excuses.
"Have you seen Black Widow?"
Jake shook his head as he focused his eyes on Connor and Connor only, trying to drown out the rest of the world.
"Kaylee was going on and on about Florence Pugh the other day, so now I feel obligated to watch, you know?"
It was a small smile, but it crept across Jake's lips in a pitiful attempt to pull him out of the gutter. Of course he had heard about Florence Pugh... who hadn't at this point? Just because he knew exactly what Connor was talking about didn't make him any more capable of working words from his lips—they would get caught in this throat the more he tried to force them out. Connor took it as a win and smiled back, soft and gentle, watching Jake like he was scared to break him.
Most days, Jake hated seeing Connor look at him like that, but today he found it strangely comforting. His mind-reading had been put to good use, even if it was followed by the pity that Jake loathed. It made him focus on something less daunting than the room in front of him, focusing only on Connor for the first time since they had sat down.
He tapped his middle finger over the back of Connor's hand twice and somehow Connor knew exactly what he was trying to say.
"I'll go get a box." He nodded.
Connor read him so well it was embarrassing sometimes. Jake wished there were days where Connor was just as dumb as everyone else—neglecting to catch the signs of a mental breakdown, taking his fake smiles and polite conversations at face value, not questioning his little white lies or anxious mannerisms. Sometimes he wanted Connor to let him pretend everything was fine. But that would never happen. Connor asked the right kind of questions, and Jake had no choice but to give him honest answers. He paid attention to everything, and either Jake was getting worse, or he was getting increasingly bad at hiding it.
He prayed Connor was just getting smarter.
It was easier to settle with than the idea that maybe he wasn't as fine as he thought.