The Tragedy of Felix and Jake

by J. Daniels

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

I feel a pull and my eyes are drawn beside him, because spider neck isn’t the one looking over at me. The guy sitting next to him is.

“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.

But then, then, Felix surprises the fuck out of me by responding with the last thing I expect anyone to take from that recap. “So, is it like, exclusively girls for you or…” I blink. What.

And because for some reason, I think it would be nice if we both ate the same fractional amount (shut up, I know it’s weird), and because he’d probably like it just as much as me (why would I care what he likes? I don’t have to answer that), I pick up the half donut and swallow it down in two bites.

His laugh is nice. Yeah, I could’ve easily answered that sexuality question.

Why is he so bothered by this? And why am I bothered by him being bothered?

I watch as he looks straight ahead. I think he’s still smiling. And I’m a little bummed I can’t see it.

I text it back because it’s not a big deal.

And only because it’s Felix.

With Felix, it matters. I just know it does. But I’m really, mainly sending it back because I don’t want Felix to think I’m a dick. And because it also matters to me. Because he’s important (as my sponsor). And it would bother me if I didn’t respond.

😂 noted

Cursing at myself for acting so fucking weird about this, I roll over and force my eyes shut, waiting for sleep to take hold. And I absolutely do not think about good-night texts. Or smiles in the dark. Fuck.

“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 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.

“Jake.” His tongue chases after the frosting, and I swallow so fucking loud. I swear that nun probably hears it.

But I haven’t fucked anyone in months and my feelings about that tattoo are making me regret the jeans I’m wearing, and I’m afraid if I don’t answer, he’ll just ask me again, and if I lie, he’ll look for the truth. God help me if he feels for it.

His voice is thick. I wonder if other parts of him are. Fucking kill me.

It’s why I haven’t fucked him already, because God knows I’ve wanted to.

Manual labor is a great distraction when you want to pound into someone you really shouldn’t want.

So, you see? I’m fine. Nothing else is happening. No one needs to worry. I’ve got this. Keep reading to find out how much of a liar I am.

can I drive us tonight? please? my car stopped smelling like u and it sucks so much :(

“That’s where you belong. With the other rejects.” Oh, so he wants to get his ass beat. Cool. Got it.

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

“The only reason I haven’t fucked you yet is because you’re my sponsor.”

I lean away to see him better. “I just.” Felix shyly dips his head. “I can’t believe you want me too.”

My babyyyyyy

“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.”

And just because some all-knowing dickhead came up with this rule about not getting romantically involved with your sponsor/sponsee, Jake and I never get together, fall in love, get married, or have Charlie and Cassie via surrogate using both of our sperm so we each have a kid who looks like ourselves.

There’s a small chance I’ve really thought about our future together. In my defense, I didn’t pick out the names of our children until after I had Jake’s tongue in my mouth and I knew he was into me.

They kissed and it was like seeing God.” Dean narrows his eyes. “Seeing God. Really.” “Yes.” “I thought you said this was hypothetical.” “It is! I meant a hypothetical god. You know I’m not religious.” “So, you didn’t kiss Jake.” “Oh. No, I totally did.”

“This one is good.” I swing my legs off the side and stand. “Do you need anything? PJs? An extra blanket?” Your dick sucked? Felix!

And then I’d feel bad and want to comfort him somehow, and what would start out as an innocent hug would undoubtedly lead to us climbing over the seats and fooling around, in the middle of which I’d blurt out how I like him and how I’m starting to really like him, and then we’d go from doing everything but fucking to actual butt fucking. (How can I make jokes right now?)

Then we’re staring across this too small of a space again, neither one of us speaking, and my dumbass decides to cut the tension with the worst possible compromise. “You can ride me all you want, but you’re never tattooing me. At least, not there.”

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.”

“If I had to knock your smartass out, I would’ve done it. I would’ve kept you out, Jake. Tackled you. Fucking dragged you. Whatever I needed to do. Even if it meant swallowing every fucking pill in that house—I’d do it so you couldn’t.”

I brush my fingers against his. “I’m sick of rules, Felix. It sucks trying to stay sober when you can’t even fuck who you want to fuck.” “More romance please. I’m not an object.”

I burst out laughing. “I’m getting to the romance, baby.” His cheeks burn instantly. “Was it the baby?” I tease, running my nose along his. “Do you like that?” “Yeah. It was hot.” “So be my boyfriend, and I’ll call you that all the time.”

And I only let that cheap little dig slide because I have a thing about forehead kisses. They’re magic.

“I just need you to exist. Stay here with me. That’s it. That’s all you have to do.”

But Jake keeps his smile as he says, “You make me feel better than any drug I’ve ever taken.”

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.

“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.”

Are you really going to drive six hours one way just to spend a day with me?” “I’d drive six hours one way just to spend an hour with you.”

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.