Perfect Calmness, Troubled Sea || Jackson+Flynn
On the first day of his Senior Year Jackson and his dad had found the perfect flag for the raft they were building. The one they never got around to finishing.
On his first day in Purgatory Jackson found the very same flag shoved into the pocket of the jeans he'd worn when he offed himself. It was like fate. A shining sign that pointed him in a preset direction, the little piece of the life gone past he could cling onto, something he needed to finish - for himself, for his dad, for all that had gone wrong.
Perhaps by chance or due to persistent destiny he found Rory - quite possibly the only companion who'd make sure he didn't turn into a self-hating mess of nothingness and guilt. Jackson hadn't held any hope for redemption up until he met Rory. The other boy made him feel the desire - the internal need - to fix what he had wronged. Maybe then, and only then, would he deserve the loyalty, compassion and sincerity Rory had shown him. He had been a terrible son after all. He had shown his dad no loyalty, he killed him - indirectly so but he did.
And thus his incessant strive for redemption began.
He hadn't told Rory everything at first. Completely petrified by the possible prospect of his best friend - his only friend - realizing what an utterly horrible person he was and leaving him.
The flag had been the first spark. It had a special place in his ruin of a room. He had bent an old, rusty clothes hanger and snuck one of the ends into a small hole in his dirty wall, hanging the flag on it. It was the first thing he could see as he looked up from his uncomfortable bed in the mornings, the last thing his eyes registered as he tried to fall asleep while the springs from the mattress dug into his back.
The first time he saw the lake was on his way to work. He had made a detour, trying to find some sort of a shortcut to avoid being late and as he ran down a path he'd never seen - the trees cleared and on his right, there it was. It had stopped him dead in his tracks. The dark, cloudy sky was almost a perfect replica of the grey surface of the lake but Jackson could not imagine stumbling upon a better place.
He had to tear himself away and rush to work but he came back straight after his shift was over. It had been raining when he laid his eyes on the water for the second time, his mind flooded with all the good memories he associated with such places. The rain hadn't been an unusual occurence and it wasn't nearly enough to dampen Jackson's spirit and nostalgia. He had stripped down to his boxers and spent a good few hours swimming. The water hadn't been clean, he hadn't expected it to be but that hadn't mattered. He desperately needed that.
He began taking money out of his weekly paycheck, putting it aside and saving up for rope, nails, tools - anything he might need to build the raft he never got to finish with his dad. The work was going slow, he didn't get paid much. He had more than enough wood collected from all over the place but he didn't have the tools, he kept losing nails or bending them. It was frustrating and he had sat on the floor many times, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, as he contemplated giving up the project altogether. However one glance at the damn flag was enough to remind him why he was doing this. Peace of mind, feeble attempt at redemption, piece of sanity.
Jackson liked working outside and did it as often as possible, dragging all the tools he'd collected and the numerous pieces of wood across the town to the lake. It was another one of those days.
The weather was bad and the dark clouds threatened him with heavy showers. Latest revelations about his father being closer than he had anticipated had shaken him up considerably. He was working shirtless, on one side of the lake, the tattoo of his dad's hand print catching his eyes every few seconds. He wanted to see his dad so damn bad. There was no one else in the entire existence he'd needed to see so desperately but he was scared.
Scared that when his dad looks at him he'll have a disappointed look in his eyes. The one that will say 'you did this, you left me alone'. Jackson could handle hating himself but there was no way he could ever withstand his dad hating him. His heart would break.
All his tools were laying around in the grass. The raft was merely half done and he was battling with the ropes. He was shirtless, the discarded piece of fabric laying a few feet away as he wiped the sweat away from his forehead and untied the knot that he'd fucked up. If only his dad was there. He'd know how to fix this up. He always knew how to fix things.
Clearly Jackson did not inherit that trait from him.
titsay
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2087
