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The amazing cover above was made by my beautifully talented friend, siremay. Also, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Don't forget to vote, comment, and share. Also feel free to leave any critcism.

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0 3 | Until There Was You

Jude couldn't help but fidget in the passenger's seat as the low sounds of rap filled the vehicle. On a usual day, he'd belt the lyrics and curse like a sailor, but that norm had deviated since. His eyes could hardly focus on one thing, but his mind easily sought refuge in the only thing he could think of besides Beverly. Football. He tried imagining himself gripping the ball, tight near his chest with his eyes concentrated on the end of the field. He thought about the burst of adrenaline and the beads of sweat that fizzled down his forehead when he made it into the end zone, configuring his hair into a different state. He created an image that didn't hurt as much as the other things.

His distraction worked until Lincoln's truck halted. Jude skimmed his surroundings, bewilderment in his expression. They were parked in front of a gym. He passed Lincoln a look, then returned his gaze to the location they were at. Jude watched tentatively as people entered with clear faces and then exited with gruesome, sweaty ones.

"How is this going to help with anything?" he asked, head craning back with aggravation.

"It's to help you with your shitty football skills," Lincoln insisted. Jude tightened his eyebrows, looking at the sarcastic boy with a judgmental frown. His look read 'I don't need jokes right now.' "I'm kidding, Lockhart. You're gonna take your anger out in there."

Jude simply blinked at the statement. It wasn't logical. In fact, to Jude, it was stupid as fuck. However, Jude knew of his anger and his emotions and maybe this was exactly what he needed. His thoughts roamed like a cloud in the sky. Finally, Lincoln took the key out of the ignition.

"You'll thank me later," Lincoln said cockily after he exited his truck, trailing in the direction of the entrance. Jude sighed deeply before he opened his door, followed with guilt, and entered the building. It seemed like a reckoning.

On the inside of the building, he didn't expect much. It was a gym after all and he had been many times before. There were lots of sweaty bodies for sure, and in some spaces, it was vaguely claustrophobic with treadmills and weights circling around the area. Jude was familiar with this void-less atmosphere; only he wasn't on a field and the sun wasn't scorching his skin as he ran. 

In the gist of people, Jude was easily able to spot Lincoln, whose build hovered over everyone in the public setting, and followed. Jude stopped walking once they were out of the elevator and he realized where they were. Surrounding him were punching bags, jump ropes, and every other activity that secluded the use of weight (cardio). Jude swallowed and placed his hands on the swaying bag to steady them. The place seemed empty compared to the previous room and the feel of the bag held a coldness he had never experienced before.

"Punch it," Lincoln insisted, steadying it on the opposite side. Jude balled his hand into a fist, then released a sigh, thinking of her and him together. He was thinking about the looks he would get in school and the fact that his parents were hardly there. He thought of himself alone in a hole with no one to help him. He was rendered helpless. No one could hear him screaming. He lifted his fist, swinging it into the bag. The impact caused Lincoln to stumble back a few steps, but eventually, he recovered as if it didn't happen.

"Not bad," Lincoln complimented. "—but that was just a test drive."

Jude had to admit, punching the bag relieved a little bit of stress. Instead of the pain numbing his brain, it was burning at the sores of his hands. He preferred it that way. Lincoln left and came back seconds later with a pair of punching gloves. "Now take all your anger out. Give this bag hell."

"Alright," Jude muttered, taking multiple jabs at the bag. The bag was Seth. The punches started increasing, Jude's breathing heavy as he swung harder and harder. His blood was pumping and his heart was quaking. His fists were growing with this newfound verge of heat and hotness. It was refreshing, to say the least.

Finally, he slowed down, stopping and breathing as he recalled his life in a hot flash. He paced the room, hands burning with eagerness and remembrance.

"There you go, Lockhart. Doesn't that feel better?" Lincoln riled up, bobbing the bag a bit. Jude's hair was plastered to his forehead, sticking to his skin like a layer. Small sweat droplets peddled down the sides of his face as a gust of coolness ran through his body. The feeling was familiar; it was also alien in so many ways.

"Ready for another round. Let that anger out," Lincoln shouted towards Jude whose gaze was shifted out the window, looking at the outside world below. His arm rested on the glass, sliding down at Lincoln's words until it rested at his side again. His lungs burned and his chest ached. There was this abrupt nagging in the pit of his throat. It was a lot like drowning in waves. Jude was undergoing a flush of intense warmth and sorrow, sinking to the bottom of the ocean. At the bottom, there was nothing but a dark hole absorbing Jude.

He wanted to tell Lincoln how he was feeling, but he knew he wouldn't understand. No one would. He felt like absolute shit. Like he was tossed inside a smothered pit of dog shit where he belonged. He turned, throwing out a few more violent punches. His hands started to hurt, then he sat down with his back against a wall nearby.

"Tired already?" Lincoln wondered.

"We've been at it for three hours," Jude huffed, letting his head sink between his hands. "I need a fucking break," He declared, standing up and going into the other room. When he was alone, he checked his phone to see if he received any messages from Beverly. His grey, electric eyes blew up in curiosity. It was one message, but Jude told himself that it had to be something important. So, he read the message.

I'm so sorry, Jude.

And he believed her. She must have been. Jude wanted to say that he was sorry too. Before he could text anything else his phone was yanked from his grip.

"You couldn't do it. You couldn't forget her for a few hours," Lincoln scolded. "Guess our time is up for today. You're a lost cause, Lockhart."

"I'm not trying to be," Jude defended, voice picking up in tone.

"Yet you're making all of this hard for yourself."

And that scoped out to be closer to the truth than anything Beverly said that day. He was making it hard. All he had to do was move on. One simple thing. But to Jude, that felt like the end of the world. He was tarnished, destined for doom. Jude brushed off Lincoln's words. Lincoln wouldn't understand. He wouldn't know how bad this was taking a toll on him. He didn't know how badly he wanted to move on. And eventually, they left the gym.

Jude was silent most of the ride back, contemplating everything for a moment. When he made it home, departing from Lincoln's truck, things were as frequent and normal as they usually were. It seemed to be a painful tragedy full of emptiness. He spent the rest of his day playing video games alone with his phone lingering by his side.

Eventually, nightfall came and Jude cooked dinner for himself, took a cold shower, and fell asleep in that empty house with his heart plundering in despondency. It was such a burden. Sometimes it didn't bother him when his parents were gone because he was taught to be independent. But then there were moments when he wished he had his mom and dad again.

Jude desperately needed someone to talk to, but no one seemed to want to listen. No one ever did, unless it was something pertaining to their presence. The realization was like a blow to the chest or someone stabbing him and digging the metal deep into his insides.

Hours later he heard his parents entering the house. Jude was wide awake when it happened. The moonlight was spilling onto his bedroom floor and he watched as the shadows of branches shook in the silhouette of it. He heard footsteps. Delicate ones at first and then louder, which meant his mother was trailing up the stairs and his dad was right behind her. Jude listened to that pattern and thought about football. He thought about those people he called 'friends' at school. He thought about everything until he couldn't anymore. Until his eyes were tightly shut and all he could do was sleep. Unfortunately, he couldn't shake the notion Lincoln proposed as his eyelids fell heavy.

You're making all of this hard for yourself.

Maybe he was and for a moment nothing mattered anymore.

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When school rolled back around he was hardly prepared. His backpack was slung over his shoulder as it always had, yet his face held everything short of happiness. Disbelief swiveled on his features when he trudged through the hallways, getting looks he feared from the very beginning of the notorious outbreak. They were piercing holes through his body, cutting views from the corner of their eyes. They didn't think Jude saw them but he did. He saw all of those wrenching retorts. When he made it to his locker he inched his head into it, reaching for his books, secretly hiding in the process. Nevertheless, he continued down that long corridor.

On his way to class, he saw Beverly. She averted her gaze as if he were a stranger. Jude's stomach fizzled. The one person he had wanted to truly acknowledge his presence was avoiding him. Just fucking great. When he entered each classroom that day he was greeted with the same gruesome stare. From the teachers. The students. Even the damn janitor. Jude knew the rumors were spreading and there wasn't anything he could do. By the end of the week, everyone would know about it. Jude prepared himself for the worst.

When lunch came around he couldn't eat with his former friends. He was deliberately setting himself up for drama if he attempted to do so. Today he would have to be a loner in the brinks of solitude. It hurt inside, but he sucked it up and dealt with it. He gripped his lunch tray tightly in both hands, watching the crowds of people spectate the scenes of his life. He lingered by his old table, watching as Beverly leaned against Seth when he said something that made her smile. Jude used to do that. He used to be the reason for that smile every single day.

He also caught sight of Lincoln who was as neutral as he always was. Jude could have forgotten that he was. Lincoln didn't choose sides and he knew that if he'd asked Lincoln he would have sat with him instead. Lincoln didn't give a fuck. He was his authentic self despite the herd mentality of high school.

Jude's feet suddenly were plastered to the ground. He was frozen in the atmosphere; aloof. The world was spinning around him and he lingered there, like a star in the universe. Finally, Jude moved, spotting an empty table in the far back of the cafeteria. He told himself that was where he belonged. Everything seemed to be stationary when he sat down, head dipped low, digging into his food.

There were times when he would glimpse up and catch sight of Beverly who was already looking in his direction with a look of sympathy. And just like that he was reminded of everything. His memories of her which were tucked away, started spilling out into the privacy of his mind. Think football, he told himself. Then, out of his peripheral vision, he saw a girl plop down in the seat adjacent to him, hair bouncing in different directions. Jude stared back at her in confusion, already realizing who she had been.

Weird Waverly from elementary school. Ah, shit.

His stomach clenched as if he swallowed a storm. She was the girl who dipped her cookies in orange juice. She loved climbing the monkey bars, shouting oddly at the top of her lungs for no particular reason at all. When Jude was younger he used to look at her in this dazed perspective of curiosity, especially when Seth and Jude gave her that menacing nickname. Since then she looked different. Instead of the broad puffballs that were in her hair, it was one massive heap of curls that swayed as she moved. Her cheekbones had grown more defined and her dark eyes seemed to look more distant as if she were searching for something that was lost. But the key thing Jude reminded himself was she wasn't Beverly despite the similarities of their name.

"Wow. I don't know what's worse. The fact that you look like shit or the fact that you smell like shit," she declared.

Jude was caught off guard by the girl's forward words. He was even more shocked by the fact that she didn't scold him for his old nickname for her; it was the fact that she dared to speak at such lengths. She wasn't the same girl he remembered. Much bolder that was for sure.

"Why're you at my table?" he wondered. Slightly insulted by her presence and the fact that she announced the way he smelled and looked.

"Didn't think this was your table. I think I remember you sitting at that one over there," she said, pointing in the direction of Seth, Beverly, Lincoln, and everyone else who swallowed the space of the table.

"But if you want to eat at this table alone don't let me stop you and your depressing ass antics," she explained, standing up with her tray. As she stood up to leave Jude found himself stopping her with desperation.

"Wait, don't leave," he muttered, eyes moving between her and the people who seemed to peer in his direction with gossiping eyes. "Please."

He didn't miss the small smirk that grew on her face when she turned around and sat back down, giving such an intimidating look that shook Jude to the core. Her eyes were intense. He didn't know exactly what he would say after that, he just wanted her to stay. He didn't want to be alone and Waverly was the only one who seemed to look past all of the problematic events that caused a stir in the high school. Everyone always seemed to leave him, but a part of him thought that Waverly was different. He thought she could have been different. He sighed, swallowing his pride and his already doomed ego.

"You want to talk about it, don't you?"

Jude didn't reply, but he knew she had known. So, Waverly sat back down. She grabbed a french fry out of her plate, eating one after another. There was a skip of silence, the sounds of chatter filling like normality in their ears.

"Well," she said. "Talk."

Jude was a bit hesitant at first, but eventually, he allowed the tension to dissolve into something more bearable.

"I'm sorry. I can't do this," he confessed. "I don't want to vent out a sob story to someone I haven't talked to in years. I don't know you. Why are you helping me? I don't deserve it."

"Right. I guess you don't deserve it. So, stop throwing yourself a fucking pity party if you don't need help," she said.

"It's more to it," Jude stated.

Waverly creased her eyebrows, pondering on his confession. Then, she relaxed.

"Sure there is," she agreed. Then, "Let me know when you're ready to talk."

And with one last look, she stood up, giving a wink, taking a handful of fries, and leaving her tray behind. Jude watched as her figure wavered away out of the cafeteria. He looked in Beverly's direction, only to see her already staring. And again he was alone.

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TO BE CONTINUED

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