Survival Of The Fittest

Jacob liked Francis's bed better than his own. True, it was a bit cheaper and smaller and less comfortable than Jacob's. That Francis's room was in the attic didn't help matters; the room was rather dark and musty and had an awkwardly low ceiling, and while it was cool in the summer it got unpleasantly cold in the winter. He was sure, if he had to sleep here alone, that he wouldn't be quite so fond of it.

Thankfully, he never had to sleep here alone.

Admittedly, he didn't really sleep here too often in general. He'd had plenty of opportunity to get familiar with Francis's bed, but it was rare that Jacob could stay long enough to fall asleep in it. Usually, he had to get home before too long, before his parents suspected anything. They were probably fretting more over him getting high or his habitual breaking-and-entering than him seeing a boy, but that was only a mild balm against the fear of them finding out. But his parents were out of town, and had been for a week. They'd left him home to housesit, which he'd done a very poor job of; since they'd been gone, he'd barely been home at all. He couldn't pass up an opportunity like this.

He was drowsily laying on his side, slipping in and out of consciousness. Francis snoozed behind him, limbs lazily draped over Jacob, his bare body practically pinning Jacob in place. Jacob could feel the soft, warm huff of his breath against the back of his neck, could hear what sounded like the beginnings of a snore with each exhale. He was the bigger and heavier of the two of them, so his weight against Jacob's back was kind of smothering him a little. But he hadn't wanted to disturb him, and really, being practically enveloped by his boyfriend like this made him feel cozy and safe in ways he couldn't get anywhere else.

Of course, his bladder could very much force his hand on the matter.

"Hey, Francis," he whispered, poking him in the ribs with his elbow. "I gotta get up."

Francis stirred groggily, groaning in annoyance at being woken up. His hold on Jacob tightened just a little.

"Do you?"

"Yeah, I kinda do, my dude. Not for long, just... y'know. Bathroom."

Francis sighed, defeated. He pulled away, taking the blankets with him, before laying on his back.

"Hurry back."

He hadn't needed to be told that. It wasn't like he wanted to leave the little heap they'd collapsed into, and he was more than eager to to return to it as soon as he could.

He rose from the bed, slipping his pants on before climbing down the always-open ladder and padding down the hall to the bathroom as quietly as he could. Francis's father knew about them, and knew he was here; he'd proven surprisingly tolerant of their relationship, which Jacob wished he could have from his own parents. Even so, he wasn't eager for him to wake up and see Jacob slipping out of his son's bedroom in the middle of the night, walking around his house half-dressed like he lived there. Even with his seemingly fathomless patience and acceptance of the situation, Jacob was wary of testing it any further than necessary.

When he reached the bathroom, he realized his phone was still in his pants pocket. It vibrated just a bit, the way it did when he had a message that had been left unread. A knot formed in his stomach. He had a sneaking suspicion what kind of message it was, though he hoped desperately to be wrong. He pulled the phone out and unlocked it, heart frozen even before he saw the sheer number of texts, from both of his parents, and a number of missed calls too. The first message was at 9:55 PM, revealing they'd come home early and were furious to find he wasn't home; the latest of all these was at 11:43, coldly telling him they weren't waiting up all night for him.

The current time? 2:22 AM.

He barged out of the bathroom and rushed back up the ladder.

"Fuck. God fucking dammit," he muttered, panic setting in.

He shuffled across the attic floor, trying to find in the darkness where the rest of his clothes were. His bare right foot collided with something in the dark.

"MOTHERF-"

Francis had fallen asleep again, but that was enough to wake him.

"Sh-shit... Jacob?" He asked. The light by his bed turned on, revealing him lying there with a drowsy and not-entirely-there look on his face. "Is... something wrong?"

The light, at least, let him see where his shirt was, crumpled in a pile by the bed.

"My parents are home," he replied, pulling the shirt over his head. "They're fucking furious, Francis."

"O-Oh, shit... I... I'm so-"

He ignored the unneeded apology, still looking for the rest of his clothes. His underwear lay tangled in the bedsheets. He didn't particularly want to take his pants off again, so he settled for stuffing them in his back pocket.

"... so fucking stupid, goddammit. Why did I..."

He scanned the floor, increasingly frustrated to find his shoes weren't there.

"Where the fuck are..."

"They're downstairs."

He looked at Francis, face blank. He was so frazzled he barely comprehended the answer he'd just been given.

"Your shoes, I mean," he responded sheepishly. "Sorry, just... thought that was what you were looking for."

He put his face in his hands, sniffling a bit, trying not to cry. Not in response to Francis at all; he was simply being hit with the sheer weight of how much trouble he was in. In the wake of it he kind of forgot how any of it might feel to the other boy.

"Right... thanks. I was. I..."

He turned away, walking towards the ladder, already losing his battle against the tears.

"I g-gotta go. S-Sorry."

He was down the ladder before Francis could respond.

---

For a minute or two after Jacob left, Francis lay there, hurt by this sudden abandonment. The past week he'd kind of gotten used to Jacob putting him first, to Jacob not needing to run off as soon as his parents called. Much as he understood why it couldn't be that way all the time, it was hard not to feel bitter at this resetting of priorities. The bitterness was paired with no small amount of guilt, since it wasn't like Jacob liked this arrangement either. And it was Jacob who was dealing with such impatient, unloving parents, not Francis; it was Jacob who had just left the house nearly crying in panic. Feeling so sour about not getting enough attention was so childish and self-centered, especially when his boyfriend was so distressed.

But he couldn't quite shake it. Just because he knew the feeling was irrational and unfair didn't make it unfelt. Jacob wasn't merely his boyfriend, he was one of his only real friends, period. It wasn't terribly healthy, but it was the best he had. Why wouldn't he want as much of him as possible? He'd felt like fucking fire this week, having Jacob's free time practically all to himself, and realizing the status quo had returned had snuffed that flame, even if he couldn't (and didn't) blame Jacob for it at all.

Jacob had left his jacket draped over a chair near the attic's only window. Francis would return it later in the morning, but for now, he was content to take it to his bed and cuddle with it. A pale imitation of the real deal, but close enough for now.

"So... what do you think of them?"

Jacob sat anxiously by his sister as she pondered over the photographs of the barn he'd recently visited. It was rare for him to have anyone to share his work with, or at least anyone who actually understood photography well enough to comment beyond polite platitudes. Monique had been able to offer both compliment and critique in the past, but that had changed a lot since she moved out. She'd grown incredibly scarce around the house since then, though he understood why; while their parents clearly liked her more, they were pretty overbearing towards her regardless. If the roles were reversed, he couldn't say he'd be any better.

She looked particularly intently at a photo of the outside of the barn, eyeing it with suspicion.

"... where did you take these?"

He frowned a bit, discouraged. That wasn't the kind of comment he'd been looking for.

"... Jacob?"

"Why does it matter?"

She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, frustration plain on her face.

"Because I'm pretty sure this is on private property. Inhabited private property, even. That's clearly the old barn on the Blackwell-Evans estate."

He looked away from her, staring at the floor while fidgeting uncomfortably. She was right, of course, but he didn't want to say it. He knew what would inevitably come next if he did.

"... and if it is?"

She turned to face him, clearly annoyed with his evasive answers.

"People still live there, Jacob! They could have easily seen you traipsing around on their property!"

He cringed a bit as she raised her voice. She was right about that too, and he'd known it as he did it. But the barn had proven too attractive a subject to ignore, even despite that risk, and in his excitement at her return he'd forgotten how she felt about this little side of his.

"I... I was careful..."

"That doesn't..."

She sighed. The momentary anger seemed to abate. Her voice softened.

"Look, I'm sorry for snapping at you. But I don't want you doing shit like this, okay? It's one thing when it's some old abandoned factory in the woods or whatever, but you could get in really serious trouble breaking into something in someone's yard like that."

She reached out, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"So just... promise me you're gonna cut down on that, okay?"

He nodded, still looking at the floor. Her hand pulled back from him.

"... they're good, by the way."

He looked up at her. She was looking at the same photo again, now much more appreciatively.

"I've always told you, you're kind of a natural. You can make even some random shitty old barn seem interesting. Almost like it has a story to tell."

She smiled a bit, looking back to him.

"Any other stuff you've got to show me? Preferably less illegal than this one?"

He was all too eager to share, and just as eager to put this behind them.

"Duuuuuude," Jacob slurred, eyes wide in wonder, "I think I can control time."

Francis was laying next to him on the floor, staring at the ceiling, probably only marginally less high.

"What?" He turned his head, face halfway between amused and incredulous. "The fuck are you talking about?"

"Look at the clock."

The two stared at the little analog clock on the wall nearby. Jacob squinted at it, concentrating, pouring all his energy until, amazingly, the minute hand moved.

"See?!"

Francis laughed, loud to the point of bellowing.

"You are way too fucking high."

"I can't believe you talked me into this."

Monique could totally believe it, of course. She was here right now, after all, staring up at the decaying structure, the remnants of an old abandoned school.

"It'll be fiiiiiiiine," Jacob replied, attitude irritatingly breezy. "You might even see what I like about this stuff."

Her brother was busy with the heavy metal door in front of them, picking at the lock. She wasn't sure where he'd gotten the lockpicks, nor where he'd learned to use them. She wasn't sure she wanted to know, either. This little illicit hobby of his was something she'd accepted about him, but it seemed like the less she knew about it, the better.

So why had she agreed to take part in it now?

"Aha!" Jacob exclaimed, pushing the door open and revealing the pitch black room behind it. "We're in!"

---

"Soooo... what d'you think?"

She started at the voice behind her, turning to see her brother poking his head out of the door that led down from the roof into the building proper. He smiled excitedly, clearly expectant; he was probably hoping she was enjoying this as much as he did.

"I mean... it's a nice view?" She turned back to the edge of the roof, looking back to all it loomed over. "You weren't wrong about that. I got some nice shots of the woods, some of that little field of wildflowers..."

She looked back at him, his eyebrow quirked just a bit. He probably wasn't looking for a review of the outside.

"And the building itself is... cool?"

She'd barely looked at the interior, in truth. She'd gone to the roof almost immediately. The inside was creepy, in her eyes, though she knew that for Jacob that was a perk more than anything. Where she saw mostly dark, empty classrooms full of trash and graffiti, he seemed to see a whole thriving ecosystem with a story to tell.

"Like, the... um..."

Fuck, there had to be something downstairs that was notable to her.

"Well, like... someone had a real artistic eye, with all the graffiti in there."

He snickered a bit.

"Like, the big, stylized 'FUCK' over the cafeteria door really spoke to me."

He burst out laughing at that, doubling over, like the joke had knocked the wind out of him.

"Damn..." she said, half-chuckling herself. "Didn't think it was that funny."

---

"So," Jacob said, finally leading her back to the door they'd entered through. "Glad to be out of here, right?

Monique was, truthfully. But having him say it so bluntly left her scrambling for a lie.

"Oh, no! It was... fun."

He gave her a knowing look, with just the barest hint of a smirk.

"You don't have to pretend for my sake that you liked it. I get that it isn't your vibe."

His smile widened, now more genuine.

"Still, it means a lot that you came out here with me anyway."

He pushed the heavy door open, making it screech and groan.

"Anyway, let's head home, eh? I'll show you the shots I got if you show me yours."

"... and, like, she said I was too girly. The fuck, man?"

Francis sighed, annoyed. He'd come to Jacob's house to hang out, but they'd just spend half an hour pouring over some random girl's rejection of Jacob when he asked her out. Mostly it was Jacob grumpily complaining about it; Francis hadn't gotten a whole lot of room to talk, and every time he'd thought they were past it, Jacob went and started it up again. He wasn't even sure it was wise to say much, really. Jacob was just venting about it because the rejection had clearly stung a lot more than he'd ever admit aloud. It was a little tiresome, though Francis understood the feeling well enough. Just maybe with an extra bit of shame built in.

"C'mon, dude," he responded, trying not to sound too irritated. "Lots of girls are into kinda feminine guys. And, like, you're not really that feminine. You're just kinda..."

Pretty, he'd almost said. And he'd have meant it; Jacob was pretty. But that was hardly the kind of thing he'd want to hear from Francis, right? Your guy friends weren't supposed to talk that kind of way about you.

"... like, y'know. Not butch, I guess."

That elicited a snicker from Jacob. It wasn't quite what he'd meant to say, but at least it'd gotten a laugh.

"Well, you're plenty butch, Francis," Jacob teased. "I'm sure girls are all over you."

Such an innocent little comment shouldn't have made Francis tense up as much as he did.

"Yeah... yeah, totally... uh..."

It wasn't the first time Jacob had assumed that about him. Really, at this point it was Francis's own fault for not setting the record straight - or not straight, as the case may be. But most of the time bringing it up felt inorganic and weird to him, and the rest of the time... well, he was just putting it off, really. Putting off the awkward reveal and the awful anticipation of how he'd react. It was true what they said; you're never really done coming out. And truthfully, he was pretty sure Jacob would be cool with it, but even so, he hated the awkward discomfort it always seemed to bring, like it'd be so much easier if he'd just kept that little detail to himself. That wasn't even getting into the possibility that he might take it poorly - Francis had only dealt with that twice, but it was two times too many.

Still, he'd have to learn of it eventually. It'd be better if it was from Francis's own lips, too. And he had just passed him a solid opening...

"So... about that, Jacob...," he mumbled, frowning. "I'm kinda, like... gay, is the thing."

Jacob's smirk fell.

"Oh."

His eyes widened just a little. Was he... afraid? That was certainly a new reaction, and a painful one too.

"Uuuuuuuuh..."

Jacob turned away from him, hands balled into fists, entire body tense.

"I-I... um..."

God, this had been a huge fucking mistake. Jacob was so easy to be around and now Francis had completely blown it. He almost wished Jacob had just called him a faggot and kicked him out of his room. It would've hurt, but it wouldn't have been this.

"... sorry." Francis got up, deflated. "Shouldn't have said anyth-"

Jacob turned his eyes, now wide as can be, and blurted out a reply.

"M-me t-t-too!"

... oh. Well that was a very new response.

"I-I mean... I think?" Jacob seemed to shrink, as if the confession had reduced him somehow. "I... I don't think I don't like girls, b-but..."

His eyes fell, staring into his lap. From this angle, Francis could just make out the cocktail of emotions playing across his face; fear, sadness, shame. It was a mix he knew all too well.

"... how long have you known," Jacob muttered, almost like he didn't expect an answer. "For me, it was like... seventh grade. Maybe a little earlier, but that's when I knew knew."

Francis sat back down, looking sympathetically. He hadn't expected them to have this in common, and he hadn't expected Jacob to be struggling so much with it. But then why shouldn't he? He wondered if he was the first person Jacob had told. Maybe his sister already knew, but what he knew of Jacob's parents made them seem like the last people he'd let in on it.

"Fourth grade."

Jacob seemed surprised at that.

"Think I maybe kinda knew before that, too, but fourth grade... I guess is the first time I 'came out,' so to speak. Not quite on purpose..."

---

"You gonna be okay?"

Jacob nodded.

"Yeah... I'm good, man."

It was half true, even. This whole little mutual coming out wasn't remotely what he'd expected when he invited Francis over, and it'd left him feeling a little raw... but he was glad to have let someone know.

"Nnnngh... aaaaaah..."

Jacob squirmed, his back arching against the sheets.

"F-Francis, s-slow down..."

Francis pulled back, looking up at Jacob with wry, incredulous amusement.

"Jacob, it's literally not even in my mouth yet."