Warnings: Depression, slash, cussing

Prologue

There was a sniffle from the back of the class; nothing out of the ordinary in mid-November, and nary a student glanced back from the lecture-induced stupor to which their instructor had delivered them. Zach chose not to look at them, either, and only traced over the lyrics on his paper, embedding them in the wood of the desk below.

I took my time, I hurried up;

The choice was mine. . .I didn't think enough.

I'm too depressed to go on;

You'll be sorry when I'm gone.

He smiled humorlessly, wiping at his eyes lined with mascara, and then more heavily inking the word 'choice.'

~

Somewhere on the other side of the campus, Jeremy stood with a cigarette clutched like a lifeline in between two fingers, huddling against a wall in an effort to shut out the cold, though luckily his ears were safe due to a pair of headphones slid over them in haste. "Damn," he muttered, and then took a long, sweet drag from the cigarette. Perhaps it was a bit stupid of him to be smoking in plain sight of the security guards of a high school, but at least he was of legal age to smoke tobacco. And at least it wasn't illegal. After one final drag, Jeremy tossed the used-up filter onto the ground and clutched his coat around him uselessly as another biting chill flung itself around the corner. "Damn," he repeated. "When is lunch? Lunch."

He peered around the corner, a full-on blast of cold air meeting his face as he searched for a window through which to see a clock. No such luck. A growl escaped his throat. "Fine then," he told himself, and slipped his hand into a pocket of his coat. A few moments later, a melancholy tune played in his ears, and he sang along:

Come up to meet you, tell you I'm sorry;

You don't know how lovely you are.

I had to find you, tell you I need you,

Tell you I set you apart. . .

A bell rang, and all classes let out for lunch.

~

Zach sighed quietly, allowing everyone to jostle past him to the door before he decided to begin packing up. In went his books, and a notebook that was horribly abused, and he began to zip up the bag when the teacher spoke.

"Mister Tanner, is there something bothering you?" she said, standing.

"Of course not," Zach muttered, following her suit and slinging the bag over his shoulder.

"Zach, if something's wrong, I'm going to have to recommend you to the counselor," she continued, moving closer.

"Nothing's wrong!" Zach said angrily, and with that he stormed from the classroom, ignoring the teacher's incredulous stare.

In spite of the direction in which the crowd wanted to carry him, which was to the cafeteria, Zach fought the current towards the almost- empty hallway of lockers. Not bothering to look at numbers, he counted from the end seventeen and began spinning the dial on the top locker. He opened it and jammed his bag in, then stood back and stared to see if he had forgotten anything, and that was the moment that the door decided to shut itself. A tanned hand adorned with thin silver rings on every finger was sprawled across the dial and the number of the door. A black sleeve hid the rest of the arm from view, and Zach sighed again. "Jeremy," he murmured.

Jeremy smiled. "Hey, beautiful," he said, taking a step forward and sliding his arm around Zach's waist. His smile disappeared when Zach pulled away.

"It's your fault," he said, turning away from Jeremy.

"What is?" Jeremy moved up behind the boy, wrapping his arms around his thin waist again.

"Did you realize that I'm the school faggot?" Zach whispered, his voice choked. "Did you realize that us being together is ruining everything I've worked for?" He sniffled again, trying desperately to hold back tears and failing, running rivulets marked black with makeup down his pale cheeks.

"Babe. . .I thought we talked about this," Jeremy said tenderly, his lips pressed gently to the nape of Zach's neck. "I thought we worked it out before we decided-"

"We did." Zach's curt reply cut him off. "And I thought. . .I thought I could handle it, but. . ." Tears ran down his face unbidden and uninhibited now, and Jeremy bit his bottom lip.

"Let's go for a drive, kiddo," Jeremy said, already threading his fingers through Zach's and leading him to the parking lot.

~

Zach stared out the window of the black Trans AM, rolled up against the cold, his face still streaked with makeup as Jeremy slid into the driver's seat. As Jeremy pulled out of the parking lot of the high school, they were silent. Zach was left to his thoughts, uninterrupted by his boyfriend for nearly five minutes, until they pulled into a corner mart. The silence was complete; both were content to stare out the windshield in the artificially heated atmosphere of the car, watching people come and go in the corner store. Finally Zach ducked his face behind his long black bangs, staring at his hands, which were suddenly incredibly interesting.

"Zach. . ." Jeremy said, "I'm sorry."

"Not your fault," Zach murmured. "I'm sorry too."

Jeremy chuckled. "Do you remember the first time I took you for a drive?" he asked quietly, staring at the steering wheel with his hazel eyes unfocused.

"Hmm. . .yeah." Zach smiled gently and closed his eyes as his mind reveled in the memory. . .