The Tragedy of Felix and Jake

by J. Daniels

For anyone who has ever loved an addict.

This is a love story. It’s messy complicated and kind of ugly sometimes. It’s also made of magical things like forehead kisses. It’s our tragedy. Love fucking rules, Felix <3

but he doesn’t say anything else to me. Not for several minutes, at least. And the longer he’s quiet, the worse I feel and the sadder I get. He drove four hundred miles to save me. A locked door couldn’t keep us apart. He’d do anything for me right now, I know he would, and I’m telling him to fuck off and trying to kick him. I’m wishing he wasn’t here so he doesn’t have to see me like this, again, because he’s seen me like this before and I promised him, I promised him it was the last time when I stole from our parents to get high and my own brother, my own flesh and blood had to arrest me. I swore to him that I was done fucking up my life and his and theirs. I was going to do better. And he said he knew I could do it, he believed in me. “I’ll do anything for you, Jake.”

I was twenty-eight when I found out that I’ll never beat it. My name is Jake Tully, and I’m an addict.

“Do you have any ink?” I shake my head. His brow lifts. “Want some?” “Uh—” “Holy fuck. You can smile.” A laugh bursts out of my mouth, and I swear to God, you’d think I just made Felix’s day. He looks so proud to hear it.

“You eat like you haven’t had food in days.” “More like thirty minutes. I just had three hot dogs and a twenty-piece nugget meal.” “Where the hell does it all go?” “Mostly to my dick.” I stare at him. Did he just say… “What?” I ask.

I want to know why he keeps doing it. I want him to know it doesn’t really bother me, I’m just curious about his reason. I want to tell him it hasn’t always been exclusively girls for me.

“Can you say it? Please?” Can I say it? Yes. I so very easily can. “He touched you. Nobody touches you.”

“I can’t believe you’re into me.” Fuck. He really means that. I blink, pausing and really considering my next move, and then I’m pushing off from the wall and crowding him. I can’t reach him fast enough. “The only reason I haven’t fucked you yet is because you’re my sponsor.”

“Everything is stacked against us,” I say. “We’d be a tragedy, Felix. This wouldn’t work.” His smile is confusing. “You don’t agree?” I ask, and how fucked up is it that I actually hope he doesn’t. “No. I agree.” He steps closer and presses one (last) kiss to my mouth. “I just know that wouldn’t stop me.”

“Oh, fuck the rules. Jesus. You gotta know I don’t give a shit about rules at this point, Felix. I just had my tongue inside your mouth again. And if holding your hand like you’re my boyfriend wasn’t a hint; I’ll spell it out for you—I want you to be my boyfriend.”

“How do you feel?” I ask. “Horny.” I smirk. “Be straight with me.” “No can do, bro. The only straight I am is straight up gay.” He points finger guns and winks, and we’re both laughing now. “Seriously, though. I’m better. I feel good.”

“No! It’s not okay. That’s not okay, Felix. I know this is something you have to work through and it might always be, but I don’t think you’re nothing special or just another dick that gets me hard. I’ve never thought that about you. And I’d be a shitty boyfriend if I did. In fact, I will beat the fuck out of you if you ever let someone treat you like that.”

“Listen to me, okay?” I wait for him to nod before continuing. “You can know how sexy you are, or I can remind you—I really don’t fucking care. But what you’re not going to do is put yourself down in front of me and expect me to just stand here and take it. You’re trashing something that’s important to me, Felix. Don’t fucking do that.”

“I’ll stop if you want,” I say, limbs shaking. “Just tell me.” “I’ll kill you if you do.” Right answer.

I fake glare at him, and he smiles. Then he presses a kiss to my forehead before moving away. I watch him walk over to the oven. And I only let that cheap little dig slide because I have a thing about forehead kisses. They’re magic.

The cops rush out and rush CJ, and the paramedics surround me. I hold the pills in my hand. “I don’t think about you not beating this, because if you don’t, then I won’t.” We’ll be okay now. We promised.

I’ve survived a dead mom and a shitty dad (literally) and an adolescence with zero friends. I’ve survived losing people and having no one and feeling like I’ll never be good enough. I’ve survived heartache and heartbreak, and this hair. I’ve survived addiction. And every day I live, I can say that. I can list all those things, and shouldn’t that be enough to keep going? I want Jake to wake up. I want it more than anything. But if he doesn’t, I’ll be okay. I’ll live, and I’ll be okay (eventually). For both of us.

“Because I’ve waited my whole life for you. And for this. Us.” I squeeze his hands. “You’re my fucking family, Jake, and we’ll fight this. Together.”

Today, I am eight hundred and twenty-seven days sober. My name is Jake Tully and I’m an addict. And I’ll always be an addict. I’ll never beat this. But I’ll keep going to meetings, and I’ll talk to my sponsor (who I’m going to ask to marry me), and I’ll fight this until I win. We are going to win.

Six Hundred And Thirty-Three Days Later (Four Years Total) Dear Reader, We did it :) Jake + Felix Tully <3 The End