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1 8 |  Until There Was You

The day Seth Westbay appeared at Jude's doorstep was a sight for sore eyes. Curiosity and annoyance danced across Jude's face as he stared back at his former best friend. He had some nerve to show up at his fucking house. His first instinct was to slam the door in Seth's face, but Seth caught him in the act before he could attempt it. Of course, Seth predicted he'd do that. Once upon a time, they were friends. Jude sighed, sending glares of fire in his direction.

"What the hell are you doing at my house?" he snapped, but remained firm in his power. His anger didn't slip through just yet because if it did all kinds of rumors would spread. People were always watching, even when he didn't expect them to be. Like then.

"I'm not here to fight you, Jude. I want to talk," he responded. Jude chomped down on his jaw to keep himself from saying something foul.

"What is there to talk about?"

"It's about the baby," he started and Jude knew then that the conversation was off to a bad start. He flipped like a light switch—alerted and patient.

"My child has nothing to do with you," he snapped back, already pissed off at the mention. Who gave him the fucking audacity? The nerve of him, mentioning the fate of his unborn child.

"Wake the hell up, Lockhart," he pointed out and Jude furrowed his eyebrows when Seth waved a hand in his face. Disrespectful as hell.

"You really think you're the father?" he questioned. "She's been lying to you. How stupid can you get, Lockhart? You're still falling at Beverly's knees like she'll take you back. Tell me Jude, when was the last time you had sex with her?"

There was red and black everywhere, whizzing past Jude silently. His lungs felt like they were overflowing, he was choking on oxygen—his words, his life. He wanted to punch something, specifically Seth. His anger was increasing while his shock and betrayal took over.

His blood ran cold and his spine swerved as he felt himself tumbling—moreover, reaching for something he couldn't get. A frank truth. For once, he couldn't get the truth. He couldn't understand it. None of it made sense, but he continued to watch it unravel like the toilet paper he had thrown at Seth's house ages ago, it seemed. He closed his hands into fists, and his eyes watered at the corners.

Tick. Tick. Fucking tick.

"You're lying!" he shouted. His voice had an uncertain tone filled with cracks and fears. He didn't sound like Jude. No, he sounded like a reckless, broken boy who didn't have his life together. No matter how hard he tried, it slipped away."You're messing with me. Is this your way of getting back at me? Well, no one's laughing, Seth. Grow the fuck up because it isn't funny."

He rambled on like a madman. Seth remained silent with his hands stuffed in his pockets, staring back with glint eyes. Jude's expression was a flint of madness, caving in on him. He was lying. He had to be. It felt like this event had been happening over and over again, controlling his mind that seemed resistant.

"It isn't funny," he repeated, still tripping over the lies that mapped out in front of him. It was slowly coming to him—the memories—and again Jude fell for the lies. Beverly told him that for her own sake; she wanted to protect her own delicate reputation. His nostrils were flailing now. He fell for yet another lie, and at this point he didn't know who he should trust, or if anything was ever genuine. Everything seemed fake. The night of the party. Seth and Beverly's secrecy. Beverly and Jude's relationship. Lincoln. Waverly. It wasn't real. None of it. Everyone was fucking with him.

"You're telling the truth, aren't you?" Jude muttered, but the heat that was dancing around him didn't disintegrate.

"What reason would I have to lie?"

"You have a lot of reasons to lie, Seth."

"Call her yourself then."

Jude did exactly that. He pulled out his phone and typed in Beverly's number, his hands shaking in the process. Seth caught it with his gaze.

"Jude? Hey," she said in a questionable tone that sent Jude's arms in electric shocks. There was no time for small talk.

"Who's the father of the baby, Beverly?" Jude asked, interrupting her words. He didn't need small talk. Hell, he didn't need any kind of talk at all—any form of conversation that averted from what Jude needed to know at that moment.

His jaw was clenched and he refused to meet Seth's mocking gaze, the fact that he had Beverly now and that the baby was possibly Seth's crushed Jude into little, tiny pieces of himself. He wasn't sure if he were ever going to recover from such distraught honesty. He wasn't sure if he would be okay anymore. Not with Seth, or Beverly, or anything he was sure of in his life. Because the truth was that people lied, betrayed, and broke trust.

"You are Jude. Why is that even a question?"

She wondered and for a moment Jude almost believed her, but it didn't make sense. The time frames didn't add up. His judgment was too clouded before to realize it. The tone in Beverly's voice didn't add up. Neither did Seth's silent taunting.

"Beverly, I swear to God if you're lying to me—" Jude started, gazing out at the road, an unfamiliar car dashed past, cutting off part of his voice.

"I'm not. Jude, who told you this? Was it that Waverly girl?" she asked, still avoiding the answer—dodging the question and stretching the truth that Seth wasn't lying. For the first time, he wasn't. He stood in the background with his arms crossed, acknowledging the situation before him. The asshole had some nerve coming to his house and telling him. Why couldn't Beverly do it? Why didn't Jude find it out himself? Because finally it was making sense.

"It doesn't matter who told me," Jude finally snapped. "Who's the father, Bev? Tell me the fucking truth."

"Can we talk about this in person?" she asked. Maybe, her fear of losing Jude altogether started to trickle in. She feared losing him completely.

"Just tell me the truth," he stated and closed his eyes, tilting his head back so his throat was facing the sky. He swallowed and clenched his fist.

"Seth," was all she said through muffled, slow sobs, and all Jude could hear was that reoccurring name stabbing him. Jude didn't listen any longer and hung up the phone, opening his eyes. Finally, opening his eyes to the sheer awakening. He glared at Seth who had his eyes trained on the ground at first and arms crossed. It appeared as if he were saying something without moving his lips.

"You can both rot in hell," Jude spat out, turned and went back into his empty house. On any other day he would have tackled Seth and battered his skull into the grit of the rock concrete, but there was no point anymore. Seth had finally won. When he closed the door he thought about all the things that could have pulled him out of this darkening, bitter void. He felt like he was trapped, drowning, and suffocating. He was watching his life simmer pass his eyes.

The truth was simple; no matter how happy he tried to be, he couldn't. There was no happiness left in the world for Jude Lockhart.

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For most of the day, he spent his time locked in his room staring at the ceiling. He thought about Waverly's room and realized how she never got tired of staring up at her ceiling. Jude, however, did get tired of staring at his ceiling. It was so blatant and empty. There weren't any entities that stuck to his ceiling and coiled his fascination. There was nothing.

Downstairs he heard his parent's enter, but didn't tear his attention away from his own stark indifference. The anger he was once feeling had smelt into a catastrophic mold of greater weakness. And when Beverly had said what she did he realized she made him weak.

He felt paralyzed with sadness, wallowing in his own crucial defeat. That pain was an effortless sensation. He couldn't move no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't even sure if he had the courage to do so. He didn't have the bravado to face his peers the following day. Sadly enough, Jude felt like dying was better than what he had been experiencing. He was trapped and there was no way out—a golden cage in hell.

"Judah," he heard his mother shout and he wanted to ignore her. He would have if her footsteps hadn't increased and his door didn't swing open hastily. "Why are you laying down? I texted you an hour ago."

Jude couldn't even look at his mother. How could she live her life normally as if she weren't sneaking around and having an affair? Jude sat up and threw his legs over his bedside, glaring down at his faded, worn-out socks.

"Your father wanted to show you around the company. He's downstairs waiting for you," she added.

"I'm not going," Jude muttered. The sunlight crept in his dark room from the window where the blinds were closed. His room was placid, filled with delicate shadows.

"Yes you are. It isn't up for debate. Hurry up and change before you're late."

"Are you coming along?" He asked, trying to determine if she was trying to get the house to herself for some particular reason.

"Of course, why wouldn't I?" she wondered, then turned leaving Jude alone like he was so used to. He sighed and stood up, searching for the appropriate attire to wear for the occasion. He really needed someone to talk to, but there was no one he could tell it to. Waverly maybe, but there was always a but. Maybe she was tired of him venting his problems to her.

When he finished getting dressed and they made their way to his parent's workplace, he felt his stomach drop. There were several floors, but his father started with the very first one. He introduced Jude to the receptionist and everyone present on the first floor.

Surprisingly, they had already been aware of Jude's presence and his inheritance of the company. It didn't make Jude feel any better as they went to the lift, getting introduced minute after minute to everyone Jude didn't know. He was sure he would forget all of their names the following day, but he just smiled and shook their hand because that was what he was demanded to do. Every. Single. Time.

By the end of the tour Jude was exhausted. His head was pounding with the amount of faces that were clumped in his head. He left his parents in the building, waiting as they chatted up their coworkers. He waited outside the building, leaning against the brick wall. The day was a blazing evening, the sky a pink haze filled with tranquility. Several bodies passed by, ignoring Jude altogether.

The sounds of sirens and honking cars trickled in Jude's ear. The evening prevailed, sauntering into an equally busy night. The stars crept out like fiery fireflies—a filament of sorts. It made Jude think of Waverly and that night on the rooftop, and how it seemed like all his problems withered away into an endless allure of invisibility.

They no longer existed, sucking into a black hole of forever-ness. If Jude had ever done drugs, Waverly would be his addiction. She numbed his reality and made him forget. She was his escape. So, he thought about their previous conversations and it made the day hurt less. He wasn't so keen on bringing back the painless days and gradual nights.

Maybe, Jude had a purpose. Maybe he didn't. All he knew was he wasn't sure what he was living for. Why did he exist at all?

His parents appeared soon and they were finally on their way home. The ride back was mostly silent on Jude's part because his parents had asked him questions about the visit and he responded with low, elated responses. In the top mirror, Jude could see his dad giving him skimpy looks of curiosity, but maybe it was just the repetitive slate of parental disappointment. Jude swallowed and averted his tentative gaze out the window, where he stared back at his flustered, pale reflection. He wasn't the same guy he was before—a little more tainted now. A lot more broken.

It was sad to know that the baby wasn't his, but the relief came in right after, because Jude didn't have that responsibility. He didn't have to focus on being a father, and instead he could finish out his high school dreams and college aspirations. Of course, there was a tinge of abhorrence toward Seth and Beverly because it was the second time he had been betrayed, but then again he wasn't completely hammered for it.

He had his football position—that was something—and he had Waverly and Lincoln. For Jude, pulling out the positive things wasn't so bad. When they made it home, Jude stayed outside and sat at the curb while his parents disappeared in the house. He pulled out his phone and texted Waverly on Instagram.

He really had to remind himself to ask for her number.

You up? He texted.

I'm hardly ever asleep. Was her sarcastic response.

Want to drive around the city?

A few minutes went by and Jude was sure that she declined his offer in her own way. Jude pressed the off button on the side of his phone, but moments after it lit up again. Jude read her response.

Hell fucking yes.

He smiled.

In the moment, Jude decided, why not bring Lincoln along too. It was the perfect distraction. A crackling drag for his own saturated dwelling. It was Jude's symbolized dwelling.

He texted Lincoln and waited for his response too. Lincoln agreed, but Jude took this time of delicate pondering and admired his surroundings. The lamppost that flickered down the street—he hadn't noticed its purpose before. Then, there was the low crick of the sounds that nature produced in the distance. Jude plucked a piece of the Earth and held the small clipping in his hand. Jude told himself again and again, over the obscuring of the wispy silver-ness that matched the moon and his eyes, that he was going to be alright. He told himself that there had to be more to life. He told himself that there was more to life.

He stood up and got into his car. He didn't think about what his parents would say. How they'd question his whereabouts. When in reality they could have simply acknowledged Jude's well-being completely. He picked up Lincoln first, who sat outside his house with a hoodie hoisted over his head full of curls. He stalked toward the car like a crawling creature in the hides of midnight, making his way into the passenger's seat with his eyes glazed over his newly captured surroundings.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked, completely clueless.

"To pick up Waverly," Jude said and he caught sight of Lincoln groaning and leaning his head back in annoyance. Truly, Jude knew how much Waverly had grown on the both of them. She fit and in a way they had slowly started becoming an indefinite trio.

"Just because you have a crush on her doesn't mean I should put up with it. Being a third wheel is lame as fuck," he informed and Jude rolled his eyes.

"I don't have a crush on her," was all he replied with.

"Pft, okay," he agreed sarcastically.

When Jude was close to driving from Lincoln's house he received a text from his mother, asking where he had been. Jude explained that he would be at Lincoln's house, lying like he became so used to doing. His mother responded with a long paragraph, explaining how he should let her know beforehand. Jude read the text, brushed it aside, and left the spot they were currently stationed in.

Lincoln was muttering the lyrics to the current song playing and Jude kept his concentration on the road. Nothing personal was said and Jude hoped to keep it that way until they made it to Waverly's house. When they finally did, Jude texted Waverly that he was outside and she replied by stepping outside in the same cautious manner she had when they trashed Seth's and Beverly's houses. Jude didn't have an ounce of regret.

Waverly slipped into the backseat, adjusting herself in the middle. She placed her elbows on the sides of the front seats and gazed out the front window. She gave Jude and Lincoln a quick glance, then reached to fiddle with the radio station. Finally, she leaned back and Jude started driving. He didn't have to worry about all the things that happened. For tonight, he could forget. He stole a glance at Waverly in the mirror, and noticed how the lights of the night grazed her face. She intermingled with the sky, the universe, the world. A distraction of her own.

When he retained his attention, Lincoln was looking at him, and caught Jude staring back at Waverly. He let out a mocking laugh and punched Jude's shoulder lightly when they halted at a light where an intersection drew.

It was going to be a long night.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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