by K. Webster
He Made Me Stay
Copyright © 2020 K Webster
Editor: Emily A. Lawrence
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information and retrieval system without express written permission from the Author/Publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Title Page
Copyright
About this Book
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About Author K Webster
Books by K Webster
The pain is overwhelming.
My life means nothing anymore.
Black. Lonely. A void.
I have an expiration date and the final hour is here.
Until a boy bounces into my dark world.
Too short. Too young looking. Too smiley. Too much hair.
I want to look away because he’s too much. Too much everything.
Bright and bustling with energy.
A train wreck of color.
His name is Kit Strong.
Loud, adorably dorky, and absolutely my type.
In another life, I could love someone like him.
It’s too late, though.
I’m ready to leave.
I’ve already made my decision.
But he wants me to stay.
***This is a MM emotional romance that touches on sensitive topics like death and suicide but ends happily. ***
To Elle Spaulding—thank you for answering my questions and educating me on all things diabetes. Some heroes don’t wear capes, they wear insulin pumps.
To Matt—pieces of you find their way into every story I write, and this is no different.
Jasper
September 1
I wasn’t supposed to feel this much pain.
It aches. It suffocates. It maddens.
The loneliness that feeds the pain is sick and twisted. It’s all I can think about. I can taste it and hear it. I’m no longer me but am drowning beneath the weight of the devastation, losing sight of everything I am.
Twins are meant to enter the world together.
It’s only right they leave the world together.
Losing my brother—my fucking other half—has been catastrophic to my soul. I’m left empty and hemorrhaging, unable to staunch the flow of pain. It’s overwhelming.
I can’t take it anymore.
The sounds of my classmates laughing and teasing one another before the bell rings are muted. Faded into the background. Another dull part of my life now that Julian’s gone and the color drained away with him. They carry on like nothing affects them.
If they lost half of their soul, they would understand.
As it stands, no one does.
I’m all alone with nothing but my pain to keep me company. I don’t want this pain. I can’t bear it. Mom and Dad are stronger, older, wiser. They are coping.
I am losing the battle.
It’s not a battle I care to win.
While the chaos continues around me, I shove my shaky hand into the pocket of my jeans, seeking out my solution. My thirty answers for one big problem. The bottle filled with little bite-sized, daily shots of forced happiness may not mean much when you look at them individually, but together, it’s my ticket out.
After class.
I just need to make it through this first hour. I’m not sure why I chose this time, but it felt right. When I started considering what I wanted to do this summer—though not exactly with these pills since I just got them—there was always an excuse not to.
Mom needed help cleaning out Julian’s things.
Dad wanted someone to help him organize his albums.
The elderly neighbors needed yardwork done.
Then, after an agonizingly lonely summer—my first summer without my brother—I started my senior year. A year Julian looked forward to so much.
Football. College. Girls.
Julian knew twelfth grade would be his. My brother, the extrovert and most popular athlete in our school, was looking forward to his best year.
He’ll forever be immortalized as a junior in high school.
I’ve passed him up on age and everything else.
It’s not right.
He’s. My. Twin.
The tears no longer come. I’m wrung dry. My soul is empty and my heart is a husk. I have nothing left to give. Mom is pregnant. The twins will come soon. She won’t even need me anymore.
Someone speaks to me, but I have no words. Julian always had the words. It was because of Julian they even hung out with me. He was better looking, nicer, and made people feel good about themselves.
I’m just Jasper.
The Darrow twin who stood in his brother’s shadow.
Clutching the pill bottle tighter inside my pocket, I glance up at the clock. It ticks by so slowly I feel as though it’s mocking me. Dangling the proverbial carrot in front of me. Taunting me by keeping me from my brother.
Mr. Halston hurries into the room, flashing his grin at everyone. Physics isn’t fun. A full week of that this school year and I can already tell you that. Mr. Halston likes to pretend otherwise.
Last year, I crushed on him. Julian teased me endlessly. Mr. Halston is every gay guy’s wet dream. Tall, dark, handsome. Scruff for days. A deep voice that vibrates your very being.
This year is different because I feel nothing for the life I used to have.
I have no future. No goals. Sex seems pointless when you have no heart left.
Rather than getting a tingly sensation buzzing through me at his arrival that smells like coffee with a hint of hazelnut, all I can do is stare. His gaze passes over me, just like it does each day for the past week since school started. Tiny wrinkles form between his brows as he studies me with concern.
I look away.
If only he knew what I planned to do right after his class is over, he’d probably try and stop me. Nothing will stop me now. I’ve made up my mind, pulled the pin out of the grenade, and just need to drop it. After class. After class I will hide out in the bathroom, choke down my Lexapro, and find my brother.
I can’t stay here any longer.
I just can’t stay.
The bell rings, sending everyone to their seats and lowering their volume level. Mr. Halston may be a cool teacher, but he demands respect. The dull roar morphs into a quiet chatter as he busies himself calling roll. When he reaches Darrow, the room goes deathly silent.
Their pity rolls toward me likes waves in the ocean, each one slapping me with a cold, salty sting. I want to recoil, but I remain still as I lift my free hand.
“Here.”
But not really.
I’m physically present, but my mind is so far away from this world it’s not even funny. The pills in my pocket are supposed to help. They’re supposed to make the pain subside so I can cope with this life. I wouldn’t know. I’m not interested in masking the pain. I want to run away from it.
The classroom door opens and hushed whispers skate across the room. Someone sno
rts out a cruel laugh. Another person sighs in a dreamy sort of way. Several kids murmur their questions.
“Ahhh, fresh meat,” Mr. Halston says with a chuckle. “What’s your name, kid?”
I lift my gaze, slowly dragging it over to the person who’s entered our room. A boy. Too short. Too young looking. Too smiley. Too much hair. I want to look away because he’s too much. Too much everything.
Bright and bustling with energy.
A train wreck of color.
“Kit,” the colorful kid says with the cheesiest grin I’ve ever seen anyone wear. Ever. “Kit Strong.”
Eric Davidson barks out a laugh. “Strong? He’s like five-foot-seven.”
“Five-foot-eight,” Kit corrects, still fucking grinning. “Strong where it counts.”
Mr. Halston asks him another question, but I’m zeroed in on his outfit. He wears a backpack with red straps, a white T-shirt with an alien holding up a peace sign, khaki cargo pants, bright red Chucks, and a damn man purse looking bag that says, “This is my pancreas.” The strap on his man purse is filled with colorful enamel pins.
This kid is going to so get made fun of.
The first stirrings of any emotion besides grief niggle at me.
Irritation.
I’m bothered that he would wear all this shit knowing it’ll catch him hell. Some people just ask for trouble.
“…just like Matthew McConaughey from Interstellar,” Kit finishes, his too-wide grin growing wider.
What did I miss?
“You’re in the right place,” Mr. Halston says, his dark eyes twinkling.
Physics.
The only thing that makes my teacher light up like that is physics.
“Have a seat behind Mr. Darrow there,” Mr. Halston says. “He won’t bite.”
Everyone cackles around me, but I don’t flinch. I don’t care what they think or say or what amuses them. All I care about is finishing this hour so I can do what I need to do.
“Gay,” Eric coughs out, making everyone laugh.
Kit stops mid step and nods. “That’s right. Gay and proud.”
It’s like this kid wants to get his ass beat.
Mr. Halston chuckles. “Take a seat. You can talk boys with Mr. Davidson when you’re out of my class.”
Eric’s face burns crimson, earning more laughter around the room.
Kit walks across the room to the row I’m on. He makes eye contact with everyone, his eyes bright and friendly. His smile reveals a perfect row of teeth like he’s a poster boy for the dentist. With each step toward me, his mess of overgrown, chocolate-brown curls bounce.
He stops in front of my desk, unfastens one of his enamel pins, and sets it down on my desk with a clink.
“Jasper’s got a boyfriend,” Eric murmurs, making more people laugh.
Kit continues on and sits right behind me. A familiar scent of sunshine and fresh air assaults me, swirling in the air in his wake. It reminds me of picnics and past summers at Mountain Grand Lake.
I uncurl my hand from around the pill bottle and then reach for the pin. It’s a battery with a smiley face that says, “Stay positive.”
Am I that obvious?
A flash of embarrassed heat floods over my skin, revealing my inner feelings. Someone comments that I’m blushing, which only makes my flesh burn more.
“That’s enough,” Mr. Halston finally says, drawing the classroom’s attention his way. “Time to focus. Does anyone know why we can’t trust an atom?” His eyes twinkle again. “They make up everything.”
Everyone groans, but Kit laughs. One of those loud, whole-body kind of laughs. His happiness and joy over a stupid physics joke literally tickles over me, infecting me. I’m so shocked by the unasked-for assault dancing over my skin, I shudder all the way down to my toes.
Kit leans forward, his wild hair tickling my head, and says, “I like him. He’s cool.”
I don’t respond.
I don’t move.
All I can think about is how his words are soft, yet they penetrate like a spear, piercing the hard layer of pain that’s built up around me since May.
Mr. Halston begins his lecture, but I don’t focus. What’s the point? In less than an hour, I’ll be sitting on the toilet in the handicapped stall, finally actually drowning in the sea of grief rather than endlessly kicking my legs, barely keeping my head above water.
Each minute passes by quicker and quicker.
Relief floods through me.
Almost there.
“Which lunch hour do you have?” Kit asks, his voice not at all a whisper.
Mr. Halston smirks our way but continues on talking.
It. Doesn’t. Matter.
I won’t be there anyway.
Kit leans closer, a breeze of sunshine and apples teasing my senses. “Which lunch hour do you have?”
The question is the same.
He doesn’t take silence as an answer.
I shrug, a bolt of annoyance sparking through me.
“You don’t know? How can you not know?” Kit asks, his voice sounding playful.
With a heavy sigh, I hold up one finger, hoping he’ll leave me alone.
“First lunch? Me too!”
Mr. Halston turns, lifting a brow. “Talking is usually frowned upon during lectures.”
“Certainly today is an exception,” Kit chirps.
Several kids laugh and even Mr. Halston seems amused. He turns back to the board, doing absolutely nothing with this bright-ass, loud-ass boy who’s practically perched on my shoulder like a fucking cockatoo.
“Meet you by the lunchroom. We can eat together.”
“Can’t,” I grunt out. “I’m leaving.”
“Stay.” His fingers are firm as he grips my bicep and leans in. “Please stay.”
Jasper
I lied.
I made a promise to the colorful boy with the big mouth and even bigger smile.
A promise I will not keep.
By the time he realizes I’ve stood him up for lunch, I’ll be gone. Forever gone. He’ll be on his own. A new kid in a new school, forced to eat lunch all by himself.
They’re going to make fun of him.
Why wouldn’t they?
He practically has a neon sign blinking above his head that says he’s innocent and unworldly and trusting. I can’t even begin to imagine how many terrible situations he’ll get himself lured into. All while wearing a fucking smile.
Anger bubbles up inside of me.
Why?
Why is he here?
Why now?
I’m not Julian. Julian would take him under his wing. Warn everyone off. Be the bigger guy. That was the kind of person Julian was. Every good trait he could absorb while in the womb, he absolutely did. I was left with the shit. But it never mattered because Julian was my other half and as long as he was here, I had all those good traits too, even if they only shone on me like rays from the sun.
Now that he’s gone, there’s nothing good left. He took it all with him. I’m not going to eat lunch with Kit Strong, the boy with a man purse. I’m having brunch with Lexapro. A thirty-course meal.
Guilt infects me one pinprick at a time.
Prick. Prick. Prick.
My resolve to rush out of class and finish what I set out to do has a million holes in it. It’s a sinking ship. All I can think about is the boy behind me who breathes a little loudly and fidgets too much. He’ll stand by the cafeteria doors smiling. Just smiling and smiling. And then I won’t show. I’ll make him frown. It’ll be me.
I finally pick up the enamel pin.
Stay positive.
It’s corny as fuck.
How can I stay positive when my world is one giant negative?
The pin mocks me. I flip the pin upside down, so the smile turns into a frown. Just like the one I’m wearing. I catch Mr. Halston’s curious stare on me as I inspect the pin. His smile is soft but probing. Like he sees inside me too.
I’m not that transparen
t.
I’m a hardened shell, hiding all the pain deep inside.
They can’t see it.
They. Can’t. See. It.
I curl my fingers around the pin, holding it in my fist. Dragging my stare from Mr. Halston, I eye the clock. Just a few more minutes. I can leave.
And then…
Fuck.
It’ll have to be tomorrow.
Today is not the day.
He asked me to stay.
I realize I’ll have to have lunch with this kid. I’m not an asshole, just sick with grief. The pills will be waiting for me tomorrow. Julian would approve of this minor delay. Help find the kid another equally unique kid to keep him company.
What’s one more day?
Mom did tell me she was making meatloaf. I love meatloaf. Julian hated it and Dad isn’t a huge fan, so I know it’s just for me. Imagining her eating the meatloaf all by herself is almost enough to bring tears to my eyes. I hope the twins will grow to love it.
A shower of relief rains down on me, loosening my muscles with each drop of realization. I’d been buzzing with the need to carry out my decision, but now I’m almost fatigued without having to carry the burden of it. My eyes droop and I slouch into my chair.
I’m tired.
So damn tired.
The bell rings and I’m not in a rush to get to the bathroom. Slowly, I stand and pocket the enamel pin. Since I didn’t take any notes and didn’t bring my backpack, I don’t need to grab anything.
“What’s your name?”
Kit’s voice stalls me from leaving. I turn to find him standing too close to my nearly six-foot frame. He stares up at me, unfazed by my standoffish personality. Eyes as green as an apple Jolly Rancher with dark splinters of deep blue.
“Jasper.”
“Casper?”
I clench my jaw, unsure if he’s messing with me or not. As soon as his strawberry-colored full lips twitch, I let out a groan. His lips continue their amused journey to split apart, curling into a pleased grin. A dent of a dimple forms at the same time a loud laugh barks out of him.
“Gotcha, quark.” He holds up his schedule. “Help me find my next class?”
