Title: Sparks

Pairing: Sean/Jay only way to fly, baby!

Summary: He can still see the red falling past him one-shot, slash

Warning: Underage drinking and drug use.

The beer is too cold for once. Frantic scenes are flying by liquidly on the television screen, the images twisting and blurring, occurring too fast for anyone to focus on. The papery texture of the joint settled between his lips simmer and burn on the skin, and he feels a slight pang of discomfort settle into his chest as he inhales deeply, closing his eyes and waiting until the effects come and take him over.

He can still see the red blurring at the edges of his eyes as the brown and orange leaves fell several distances around. The air still carried a hint of summer and the promise of a chilling autumn. And he still heard a hurried whisper, the sound carrying past his ears and out of his mind (out of his life) and piercing through something blockaded in him.

I have to. I have to be with them.

Jay smirks, a silent laugh forcing its way past his lips, even though this situation isn't particularly funny. Its really not funny at all to him, but he's sure that all of the adults in his life, and Emma and Ellie and Alex (especially Alex) would burst out laughing, pointing and making fun and giggling about Jay's crush.

It sounds so girly, almost juvenile, that word. That's why he's never used it seriously in his life. He knew there were stupid girls in the school that giggled and blushed over him and Sean and Craig and every other pretty boy who crossed their path, speaking of love and crushes and flowers and butterflies. That kind of stuff was for people like that. For girls. For little pretty boy faggots like Michelchuck and the Marco kid who was always tailing after him, all googly-eyed and infatuated.

It's definitely not him, and everyone knew it. Sean especially, which was why Jay laughed in the first place. This whole thing was ridiculous. He was upset that his best friend left him for Nowheresville, U.S.A. And he certainly didn't slam the gas after dropping Ellie and Emma back at there respective houses. He didn't grab the nearest beer bottle and slam it against the walls of his house, shattering the memories and the joints and the good times. He's sure that he didn't lock himself in his room and get plastered to the point where he can't get up the next morning, and spends the remainder of the day puking his guts out.

He only knows that the dirt, clothes, and food littering his floor will continue to pile up as the weeks go on. It's not like Sean is coming over anytime soon.