The first time Jake went to Dylan's house, they played pool in the basement and it just came up.

"What does your dad do?"

It was innocent, like brushing against a forming scar that was hidden beneath a layer of clothing. The person who did it had no idea they were causing harm. Dylan picked up his cue stick. "He...um, he was a pilot. He flew for a commercial airline."

The past tense was enough to ward off further questions. Dylan expected the usual clamming up, the stutter, and the awkward apologies, but Jake's eyes swiped over the airplane tattoo on Dylan's right forearm before he spoke again.

"What was he like? Were you close?"

Jake had an easy manner that bordered on insensitive before it tipped over to something like earnest concern. He wasn't scared off by the topic. He asked question after question between shots, like he cared for the answer.

For once someone didn't mutter "sorry to hear that" before they changed the subject, and Dylan was surprised to find that he didn't mind. As he started to talk, he realized that he wanted to talk about it, especially since he was seldom offered the chance, and he also realized how little he actually spoke of his dad. He spoke of him less than homework and school and breakfast cereals and basketball practices, like a scar he tried to hide.

"My dad was...you know how some people are like, I never want to turn out like my parents?" Dylan aimed at the ball. Without the eye contact, it was easier to talk, and it added a casual air to the conversation instead of making him feel like going through a therapy session. "Well I've always thought I'd be lucky to be half the man he was."

"Sounds like an awesome guy," Jake said. "Wish I had the chance to meet him."

Some friendships grew on you, bit by bit, like taking one step further into a warm lake. Some were like bungee jumping. Jake had only been in his life shortly, and already it seemed like he had always been there, like when that convenience store opened around the corner, Dylan couldn't for the life of him remember what was there before it.

Jake just fitted. Meeting him felt like a reunion. Dylan didn't tell him about the cancer though, not right then; Jake's aquamarine eyes held no room for unpleasantness like that. Jake was so positive and perpetually happy, Dylan thought it would be best to focus on the brighter memories, since those were all he wanted to remember anyway.

The first time Dylan went to Jake's house, Jake was playing basketball with his dad and his sister in the driveway. The dad was head of a small company but still made time for his kids, and the sister looked like she just stepped off from a magazine cover, which she literally did—Emily took part time modeling jobs between her college courses. They were all laughing.

Watching them reminded Dylan of one of those bank ads about quality of living. Jake's life was as perfect as the guy himself. He was close to his family but not embarrassingly dependent, he was well-off, always able to afford a new phone or the latest video games, but not so much he became out of touch with the real world. He was also obnoxiously blond and gorgeous. It was natural to assume he never had issues with body image or fitting in or girl problems, and judging from the way he threw the ball, his future was pretty much mapped out for him too.

Jake was like the Baby Bear in that Goldilocks story—everything about him was just right. It would be so easy to hold that against him, but Jake was like the sun and you don't compete against the sun. You just bask in the warmth and be content about being in his company.

"That's not true," Jake said later that afternoon, after Dylan called him carefree. "I actually worry about a lot of things."

"Like?"

"How to get laid," Jake said. "I mean again. And then again." He sighed. "You probably don't know this, but I think of sex a lot."

"Gee, who would've guessed?"

Jake had a dirty mind, but there was paradoxically something very innocent and simple about him. "Hey, how was your first time?"

"I'll let you know when that happens," Dylan said.

Jake sighed, like he was half depressed by it but also half impressed. "I lost my virginity so, so, so, so long ago, it's like I never even had it to begin with."

"How did you...was it...did you feel ready?" Dylan was fifteen and sex was always on his mind, and he knew all the technical stuff—what it was, what went in where, but he didn't understand what it meant, the significance of it. He had questions he could never bring up in front of his mom, and Sean was very personal about issues like this (his standard reply was none of your business), but Jake was more than willing to share everything he knew, almost like an eager teacher looking for an apprentice.

"I was born ready," Jake said. "I mean, I was ready because she let me and I was tired of jerking off to porn."

"How enlightening."

"Watching porn feels like watching NBA games, you know? I observe, I'm usually amazed, and I might pick up a few tips watching it, but like, it doesn't make me a better player just by watching. You get better through practicing until it becomes a part of—" He closed his mouth when his sister, Emily, came out of the kitchen and joined them in the living room.

"Hey, don't stop on my account," Emily said. "But I just wanna point out porn isn't like NBA. It's more like watching a basketball game in a teen movie...completely unrealistic and sets the wrong expectations."

"Speak for yourself," Jake objected, grinning.    

They bickered, and it was apparent they had no secrets between them. Dylan wondered how it felt like to have a sibling like that, someone who knew all your weakness and always ready to have your back. Would it double the joy and halve the sorrow?

Emily pulled out a set of car keys and dangled it in front of them. "Do you boys want to drive around for a bit?"

"There's a parking lot down by the river," Jake explained. "Em lets me practice there sometimes. We can take turns if you want. I figure your mom probably doesn't have too much time to teach you."

Dylan was more than happy to get behind the wheels. He had his learner's permit for a while now, but this was the first time he had the chance to drive. The car smelled like rich leather. Warm breeze filtered through the window and Emily's hair sparkled under the sun like spun gold. Lazy music seeped through the radio, making it feel like a beach holiday. 

Dylan was about to make a right turn when something caught his attention. One of Emily's spaghetti strap slipped from her shoulder, and it only took him a split second to notice.

There was that budge at the corner of her upper chest. Most people didn't have the misfortune of knowing what it was, but he did.

He stepped on the break.

"You okay?" Emily asked, turning over to face him. Her hair fell from her shoulder and conveniently covered that budge.

He took a deep breath. "Yeah. Sorry about that. It's just...Emily, I hope you don't mind, but is that a chemoport?"

"Yeah, it's for my chemotherapy," she said, "and it got infected before which was so annoying. I might be able to take it out soon."

"She had Hodgkin's Lymphoma," Jake said from the back seat. They told him about it, like it was a minor nuisance, something like a cancelled flight.

"Jake was really sweet through the whole thing," Emily said. "He basically lived with me at the hospital and he'd arrange a small celebration for every milestone...almost made it a fun experience."

In time, Dylan would learn that Jake's biological mom walked out on them when he was only three. He never heard from her again. His dad went through bankruptcy twice and they had to live with their aunt for months before they could get another place to stay. When his dad remarried, Jake had to constantly hear at school how his black stepmom wasn't his "real" mom, even though she was in every sense of the word and he loved her dearly.

Jake said all of this nonchalantly in passing. His eyes were still hopeful and clear and he still seemed perpetually happy, but now Dylan understood better.  Jake's happiness wasn't a mindless one by default, but one by choice, and because of that, his happiness had meaning.

They all had wounds, but Jake chose not to let his own scar tissue define him.

***

dedicated to Adele for the gorgeous banner. thank you so much!! <3