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The first time Jake saw him was after Sunday service on what had otherwise seemed like an entirely ordinary day.
There, on the church steps, he was introduced to the Machados and their boy Javier (“just call me Javy”) who was the same age as Jake and would be starting at his school the very next day. The family had just relocated there from New Orleans.
It was barely even a conversation, but even so, Jake couldn’t help but feel drawn to the other boy. Jake’s mom did most of the talking, as usual, and his father’s hand weighed firm on his shoulder the whole time. Strangely, Jake just wished he had been wearing something a bit cooler than his Sunday best.
He now had something to look forward to on Monday, though. He would try to befriend the new boy with the pretty smile.
As luck would have it, Javy sat next to him in English. That became something to look forward to, too.
Jake wasn’t sure when exactly he started going to church for Javy. He used to go for God and for his family and the community, but lately it’s all just a chance to see Javy. As if he doesn’t see Javy every day at school and most days even after school. Maybe it shifted when he realized once and for all that his God didn’t want him there. Not really.
Maybe it shifted that very first day he met Javy.
Regardless of the when, that was how it was now. He was more excited about church now than before, which is ironic, considering that if anyone there knew the truth about him, they’d throw him out on his ass, probably. But it didn’t matter anymore, did it? It didn’t matter that they wouldn’t accept him because Javy would. It didn’t even matter that he had to keep himself in check and not steal too many glances at Javy with all those people there. Because he could see Javy from the corner of his eye as he said his prayers, and he knew who he really was there to worship.
Javy made him feel free in a way that nothing else ever had. It was his easy acceptance of Jake, his steady friendship, the way he challenged Jake and stood by him even when Jake knew he made it difficult.
Jake had the Good Son act down pat. He was polite at home, kept his grades good (not that it was very hard), went to church, excelled at football practice, helped around the house, drove his sister everywhere. Sometimes he felt his only moments of freedom were those spent alone with Javy when he didn’t have to be anyone but himself. Sometimes he felt like he hardly even knew who that was.
His favorite times were when he would sneak out at night and quietly walk his bike to the end of the driveway because then the rattling noise it made wouldn’t attract any attention, and biked the 3.5 miles to where Javy lived, where he always waited form him under the light of the streetlamp. They would stash their bikes in a ditch and spend a couple of hours just exploring the nearby forest as much as they could in the darkness.
Sometimes they would just bike around town, singing in the night as they went. One time some drunk yelled at them to go to bed and Javy was spooked at the sudden noise so much he crashed into a bush. That had been memorable. Sometimes they went to the school grounds and sat on the swings or went to the church just to look at the big building in the misty darkness.
Of course, Jake should have known that wouldn’t last. Those stolen moments of freedom wouldn’t be enough to carry him through to the end of high school and then he’d have been able to leave anyway with everything still intact. He’d just hoped.
-
It’s all still a blur to him, and not just because of the tears clouding his vision as he bikes to Javy’s house.
He doesn’t quite know how everything fell apart so spectacularly, and so quickly. One moment his family was having dinner, the same as every single day, and here he is now, not an hour later, knowing there wouldn’t be any family dinners ever again.
He steels himself as he leaves his bike next to Javy’s and goes to knock on the Machados’ front door.
He thanks, well, Javy, that it’s his best friend who answers the door.
“Jay! What–“ Javy takes in the look on Jake’s face. “What happened?”
His voice comes out scratchy and hoarse. “Can we go for a drive?”
Somehow, Javy knows to wait him out. He doesn’t push Jake to talk until he’s ready. Jake doesn’t know how Javy knows to do that, but it makes him feel so grateful it clogs up his throat again.
They drive around aimlessly for a while, Javy taking them through their usual routes without thinking. The only sounds are the soft music flowing from the radio and the gentle drum of Javy’s fingers on the steering wheel. Jake zones out staring at those long fingers tapping out rhythms. He watches the streetlights cast their glow on Javy as they drive under them, the way the light catches on the watch on Javy’s weirdly beautiful wrist.
Everything about Javy is beautiful, Jake thinks. It feels kind of unreal sometimes. He gets stuck admiring the lights and shadows chasing each other on Javy’s skin, lapping like ocean waves. Gets mesmerized by how Javy’s earring glimmers when the yellow light hits it right. Remembers how Mama Machado had gotten so mad when Javy got the piercing, but she’s more used to it now.
There’s constantly a part of Javy that glimmers. Be it his earring or his eyes or his smile or the ring he sometimes wears. It’s never blinding, and Jake likes that. Instead, it’s inviting. Like calling him home.
Home.
Because Javy is his home now. Would always be if Jake was asked. He might not get asked, is the thing, though.
There haven't been many other cars out tonight. But as a big truck with those annoying blinding headlights passes them, Jake finds himself thinking. Sometimes he just gets those weird kinds of thoughts, but they always pass in a flash. Now, though. The thought that if that truck happened to hit them, Jake would be surprisingly okay with it, takes root in his mind.
Right now, he thinks it would be a good thing for him to stop here and be remembered as he is now. Not as he will be soon enough when the news spreads. Here, he would be remembered with Javy. Two best friends out on a drive. He would always be talked about with Javy, their stories forever intertwined, their pictures side by side in the newspaper. They couldn’t be separated. He’s pretty sure Javy’s light would continue to shine, encompassing him in it too, shielding them both in its glow.
Jake doesn’t feel he deserves such a privilege, but it’s a comforting dream to have.
The truck doesn’t hit them, however. There was no reason for it to do that. It passes them like it passes hundreds of other cars in its journey.
So Jake won’t be immortalized alongside Javy tonight.
He blinks and rubs his eyes.
“Can you take me to Janet’s party?” he asks, after almost an hour of driving.
Janet from his class was having a party even though it was a Thursday night, because Janet’s parents are away and she’s just crazy like that. Basically, only the rebels and those whose parents don’t care are going to be there. Jake supposes he fits right in.
Javy glances at him, assessing, but nods his assent, and takes the next turn left.
The party is not particularly amazing, but Jake needs to be somewhere where people are having fun. The music is so loud he can’t think, and that counts as a win. The two warm beers he drinks help too, or at least he fools himself thinking they do. He might even say he feels he has friends there, but he’s not really counting on that lasting.
It’s nearing midnight when Javy says it’s time to go. The others make jokes about the Prince Charming taking Cinderella home. Jake’s laugh sounds forced even to himself.
“Don’t–“ Jake starts immediately when they get in the car, “Don’t take me home, Javy.”
“Jay–“
“It’s not my home anymore. I’m not welcome in their home,” he whispers.
His best friend curses with conviction.
“They told you that?” Jake’s never heard such cold fury in Javy’s voice.
He can only nod.
It’s quiet for a while, both of them looking at each other, not knowing what to do.
“So please, take me anywhere you want but I’m not going back there.”
Javy blows out a short breath. “Well. I’m taking you home then. With me. Mama will understand.”
And that’s that.
Jake spends that night sleeping on Javy’s bedroom floor after Mama Machado had first fed him a bowl of soup. She absolutely refused to let him go to bed without soup. Jake cried as he ate, but she was kind enough to not mention it.
Later, Javy would ask to hear what happened, and Jake would explain to him how he was stupid and looked up something on the family computer without remembering to clean the history and how his mom had seen it and it had raised some questions. Jake couldn’t lie his way out of that, nor did he really want to. There was nothing he could do to make them change their minds, anyway.
But that would come later. For now, Jake enjoyed a few moments of peace and quiet, watching Javy snore softly on the bed above him. Thinking how much he wanted to tell him. Tell Javy that he was in love with him.
But he’s so scared. Now more than ever. Scared of losing Javy, too.
-
It took until after the Academy for Jake to finally confess. Javy said he’d been waiting for years.
But now they have a house together. They haven’t needed to sneak out in the middle of the night for a long time. Haven’t needed to sneak anywhere, in fact. They could even go to church together if they so wished. But Jake knows he doesn’t need that anymore.
They do get married in a church, though. Jake has secretly imagined it that way all his life and couldn’t let go of that. Javy doesn’t mind. Jake just likes the idea that now the bells ring out their official permission for him to worship Javy like he’s been doing for so long already.