Invincible

twenty-four

The first time Jared saw inside Isaac's house was on that Wednesday morning, and entirely unexpected. There'd grown an unexpressed agreement between the two of them that Isaac would drive by Jared's on the way to school and pick him up, mood proclaimed by the music playing. Jared himself was still taking driving lessons after two record-breakingly unsuccessful attempts at theory followed by one scraped theory pass and two subsequent practical fails.

     On Wednesday, Isaac forgot his reading glasses. He realised just as Jared got in the car and swore under his breath (but only a soft 'dammit' because he was still Isaac even when irritated). Jared cocked an eyebrow.

    "Glasses," said Isaac. "Mind if we go back past mine to get them?"

     The drive to Isaac's was kind of tense. Jared told him about the text conversation he'd had with Willa last night (she was scarily easy to talk to and Jared's crush didn't seem to be fading in the fucking slightest) and how Cosmo had got the waiter job, and how Mum was going to Singapore today but to be honest they probably wouldn't even notice. She hadn't been home to do more than sleep and eat muesli in weeks. And all the while Isaac made little humming noises to show he was listening, but his mouth was set in a tight line and he kept tapping the steering wheel out of rhythm with the music.

     In the end Jared gave up talking and let the sound of Nirvana fill the car. That he'd attempted at all was surprising. Normally it was Isaac trying to trick him into conversation, not the other way round. Maybe he was picking up bad habits.

     When they reached the house Jared got out of the car right alongside Isaac, without even thinking. He felt tense too now; had this stupid desire to just demand Isaac tell him where the glasses were so he could go in alone and Isaac could stay in the car. Because Isaac was jittery and fiddling with his keys like he didn't want to use them, like he didn't want to go in.

    "You okay?" asked Jared clumsily. Stupid question. The answer was obvious, and utterly taboo.

    "Yeah, fine."

     You don't have to lie to me, Jared wanted to say, before realising abruptly that if Isaac was really trying to lie convincingly he could do it easily. Isaac had the best 'I'm-okay' smile he'd ever seen. And yet- here he was, not smiling. Not pretending, even through the automatic 'yeah, fine'. Fuck, thought Jared. Out of all the people Isaac could've chosen, he'd decided not to pretend around Jared? The realisation filled him simultaneously with terror and this weird warm feeling in his core.

     The house itself was a small semi-detached two-storey, all 60s design and net curtains. The houses along the road were all basically the same in that they looked like lego houses and had plain front gardens stretching down to the pavement. Isaac's was an ugly, functional house, grey and pebble-dashed and not like Isaac at all.

     Through the door a small dog greeted them and Isaac bent down to stroke it, whispering a quiet, 'hello'. There was a dark wooden dresser to the right of the door with a bowl full of keys and other bits and pieces on it, and a gold-framed painting of Jesus with a sombre face and left hand raised, right hand seeming to touch His heart. On the wall above it was a brass crucifix, and to the left a picture of the Virgin Mary. Isaac didn't look at any of them.

     After a moment he glanced up at Jared and said,

    "Come with me," before heading up the stairs. Everywhere was carpeted in an inoffensive cream colour, perfectly hoovered and clean. It was eerily quiet.

     When they reached Isaac's bedroom though, there were threadbare patterned rugs on the floor and piles of moving boxes and books and a desk covered in clutter. Isaac seemed to relax a little, searching around on the desk and moving aside a chipped spotty mug filled with pencils. The dog had followed them upstairs and now jumped on the bed, curling up in a white fluffy bundle on the patchwork quilt.

    "You can sit down," said Isaac, pulling open the desk drawers with his brown hair flopping messily over his forehead. "I don't think anyone's here."

     Jared sat on the bed, eyes skimming round the room to a sound system and a stack of CDs and to the photos pinned chaotically on the wall. There was a clock ticking on Isaac's bedside table and it said they were late to school, again, but somehow it seemed insignificant. Before lessons there was assembly anyway, which they could miss without much fuss, and here in Isaac's room it felt like they were in a world completely removed from things like school.

    "Haven't finished unpacking?" Jared asked eventually, motioning to the cardboard boxes. Isaac smiled sheepishly. He had his glasses in his hand now and shrugged.

    "I'm not very organised," he said, and his dimples were back- and Jared was taken aback by how relieved he was.