December 17, 2014 - Born

The week passed by normally - or as normally as life ever got for someone actively trying not to think about an eight-hour bus ride and a five-dollar manga that somehow radiated emotional weight like it was forged in Mount Doom.

Jackie’s manga stayed safely on my bedside table, positioned on top of my alarm clock like a tiny shrine. Every night I checked on it - making sure it hadn’t warped, bent, or spontaneously combusted. It felt like the kind of object karma would personally rob from me if I wasn’t careful.

Jackie and June had been together long enough that certain patterns existed. One of those patterns: June practically migrating to her desk every break like a homing pigeon with a mission. But this week, something shifted. Now and then — very rare, blink-and-you-miss-it moments - he stayed put.

And that meant Jackie sketched.

She sat hunched slightly over her notebook, pencil tapping lightly against the page as she thought. A bit of hair fell over her cheek; she blew it away with that tiny puff of air she always did when she was focused. Her brows would knit together for a second, then relax, then knit again.

She looked peaceful.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt peaceful watching her.

When I noticed June wasn’t going to her, I looked over at him instinctively - and found him doing homework. Unironically. Like a normal student. In the wild.

A surprised whistle slipped out of me before I could stop it. Happiness? Relief? Shock? Maybe all three. Whatever it was, it made me sit a little straighter.

The book I’d grabbed from the bookshelf stayed closed. I just sat there quietly, letting myself observe her the way I used to - distant, safe, unnoticed.

For a few minutes I actually let myself believe things were… almost normal again.

Maybe they’d had a fight.
Maybe they were drifting.
Maybe I’d get a few more moments like this.

That little glimmer of hope lasted exactly one free period. The next day, June strolled right back to her like a sitcom husband returning to the couch. I sighed, opened my book again, and buried myself in Christmas novels - The Hogfather, A Christmas Carol - anything to get me closer to the three-week break that felt like salvation.

But even if June’s visits weren’t gone, they were less. Not every spare second. Not every oxygen molecule Jackie inhaled. And in those little gaps, I allowed myself small victories: a glimpse of her sketching, a soft pencil stroke, the way her foot tapped the floor when she was stuck on a pose. Those tiny things kept me going like crumbs leading a starving man through winter.

Wednesday morning, I was halfway through a paragraph when Mike leaned over his desk toward me.

“You coming, Al?”

“Of course,” I said, eyes still on the page.

“Should we invite others?” Mike asked. “Or just the four of us again?”

“Up to you. Joseph said we could ask girls.”

“Ain’t happening, brother.”

“What are you guys up to?” June cut in, his voice bright enough to draw attention from three rows away.

I looked up because I had to. June was staring at us with the eagerness of a kid who heard the ice cream man. Jackie glanced over too, curiosity flickering in her eyes. I immediately pretended my book was a life-saving spell I had to recite perfectly.

“Going for drinks at my house,” Mike said.

Silence fell like someone hit mute.

I peeked up.

June was smiling too widely - legitimately wagging in his seat. Mike looked at me, silently asking, Is this okay? I gave a small nod. If we said no, June would probably ask anyway.

“Wanna come?” Mike asked.

“Yes!” June burst out, like someone had pressed a button on him.

“It’s on the 17th. You’re free?”

“Yes!” June repeated, even faster - a trained golden retriever responding to its name.

“Cool,” Mike said, amused. “I’ll invite more guys.” He turned to Jackie. “Sorry about this. No girls allowed. My parents are religious.”

Jackie didn’t seem offended. She gave him a polite smile - gentle, understanding - then tugged on June’s sleeve.

“June, we have a thing…”

“We can do it next week,” he said instantly, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “Please?”

Jackie sighed - soft, resigned - the sigh of someone who had already fought this battle before and lost. She nodded slowly.

And just like that, June was in.

We were drinking pretty heavily that night. Mike’s parents were… interesting. Cool enough to let a bunch of eighteen-year-olds drink until we couldn’t stand, strict enough to ban any girls from coming over. An odd combination that somehow made perfect sense.

Honestly, I had more fun because of that rule. No Jackie meant no awkwardness. I could relax for once – laugh with everyone, breathe normally, even talk to June without feeling like my stomach was folding origami cranes out of my internal organs.

There were eight of us sitting in a messy circle on the floor – me, Kyle, Mike, Joseph, June, and a few other guys from class. Beer cans littered the carpet like landmines, each one a potential ankle injury waiting to happen.

June turned out to be a massive lightweight. Meanwhile, I was starting to suspect I might secretly be a heavyweight–or at least a smug mediumweight. I was still sipping calmly while June swayed like a drunk old man who had misplaced not only his balance but his entire will to stand upright.

We played cards. June cheated so blatantly it deserved a documentary, but no one bothered calling him out. The cheating wasn’t subtle, but the entertainment value was high. Watching him lie with that goofy, drunken grin made the whole thing worth it.

Hours slipped by. By two a.m., everyone was flushed and laughing at sounds that weren’t jokes.

Then June leaned forward, pointing at us with a wobbly, prophet-like finger.

“Guys, you need to get a girlfriend,” he slurred. “It’s fucking amazing.”

All four of us groaned in painful unison.

“I’m trying,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes.
“I’m close to getting one,” Joseph lied like it was a reflex.
“I have no one,” Mike sighed into his cup.
“Fu-screw you,” I muttered, because honesty is important.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” June jabbed his beer can at us like Moses scolding the Israelites. “You gotta get started. Get some practice.”

“Practice on what?” Kyle asked, eyebrow up, already regretting asking.

I regretted him asking too.

“Sex!” June declared proudly, like he had just invented it an hour ago.

Kyle snorted. “Right.”

Then June dropped the bomb. “Jackie’s been sucking my cock. It’s fucking great.”

The image slammed into me before I could stop it. Jackie - on her knees between June’s legs, her silky black hair falling forward, her lips stretched wide around him. I imagined his fingers in her hair, pulling just enough to make her hum against him, her eyes closed, cheeks hollow as she sucked.

Joseph perked up like a starving dog hearing a food wrapper. “What?”

“Yeah,” June went on, too drunk to notice the way my fists were curling. “She's a fucking pro, man. I'm actually jealous - I don't think I was her first."

Joseph whistled, delighted and disgusting, egging him on.

Empowered by Joseph's reactions continued, June continued on, "I’ve been licking her pussy too. Fuck, it looks so good. So pink.”

I didn’t want to imagine it, but my brain wouldn’t stop. Jackie lying back on her bed, her skirt pushed up, her panties on the floor. June’s head between her legs, his shoulders tensing as he held her thighs apart. Jackie’s hands in his hair, back arching as she gasped.

“Tell us more,” Joseph said, grinning like a hyena who did not deserve rights.

June happily obliged. “I made her come twice last night. She scratches when she’s close. God, it’s hot.”

Another image hit me, clearer than the last. Jackie with her head thrown back, nails digging into June’s shoulders, leaving red streaks as she shuddered and cried out.

“Won’t be long before she lets me fuck,” June said, thrusting his hips in the air like he was proud of it.

Then June’s face shifted – dimmer, conflicted, something small and insecure flickering under all the bragging.

“She has to,” he mumbled. “I don’t think she’s a virgin.”

He didn’t sound happy saying it.
Not proud.
Almost… unsettled.

My fists tightened until my knuckles felt like they were begging for medical assistance. I wanted to hit him. Hard. Through the floor. Through the Earth’s crust.

And then – something else stirred.

It wasn’t a thought. More like a presence.
A creature, small but alive, unfurling inside me like it had been waiting in the dark for this exact moment. A quiet awareness, a heat, a pressure.

Just… something waking up.

The images wouldn’t stop.

Jackie on all fours with June behind her. Jackie’s soft, **** little noises. Her body rocking back into him.

The creature didn’t speak, but I felt its intention.
Steady. Calm. Don’t swing. Don’t ruin this. Don’t do something stupid over a girl who wasn’t mine.

That had to be what it meant.
That had to be it.

Before I could act, Kyle spoke.

“June, shut the fuck up.”

“What?” June blinked, offended his TED Talk was interrupted.

“She’s your girlfriend, idiot.” Kyle glared at him. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

The room went still. Even the background laughter from the other guys thinned out.

June stared for a few seconds, then slumped back and drank, too drunk to form a coherent argument.

I sat there breathing hard, trying to cage the images, push them down, bury them. But they stayed.

The creature stayed too, now curled tight in my chest, quiet again but very much awake.

Not gone.