A/N
I recommend listening to this song. It's one of my favorite love songs of all time.

Jamie

Although I had seen Jordan have a temper tantrum before like when he made a mess of the kitchen after Tim did his laundry and the few times he kicked me and spat at me, but that was was nothing compared to this. All of a sudden, as we were leaving Fenway Park, he completely lost it, screaming and crying like a tortured animal.

In whatever state Jordan was in, he barely acknowledged me, almost as if he didn't even recognize me. And then he looked at me with such disdain and contempt, I wondered what I did wrong. Was this all my fault?

As Fenway Park security and the police showed up, Jordan lay flat on the concrete floor, as if he were genuflecting. People around us stopped and stared, gawking in fear and confusion at this crazed young man. He was like some wild, rabid animal. He even bit an officer at one point. The sound of my voice just fueled his anger even more. As he kicked, bit, and punched, I wondered if the cops would drag him off to jail. I couldn't picture Jordan and jail. I could only imagine what inmates would do to him. He wasn't a criminal. Handcuffing his wrists behind his back just made things even worse.

When the ambulance arrived, I knew Jordan wasn't going to jail, but to a hospital, which was where he probably belonged in this current state. I had never witnessed anything like this in my entire life; it hardly seemed real.

"Get off me!" Jordan shouted at the police and paramedics who surrounded him, all trying to coax him onto the stretcher. He was not about to go willingly. Even with his hands cuffed behind his back, Jordan put up a good fight. It took at least five men to pick him up and transfer him onto the stretcher. His ankles were immediately strapped down, followed by his arms after the handcuffs were removed. Terrified, worried, helpless, and embarrassed all at the same time, I wasn't sure if I wanted to stay or go.

No...no...I couldn't abandon him. Jordan didn't know what he was doing. He managed to hold it together all day and now he couldn't do it anymore. I was stupid...stupid...and Tim was right. That was the worst part of it all. Jordan was desperate to prove him wrong; that he could handle going to a game at Fenway Park, but he failed. I wasn't sure how Jordan would cope with this failure.

"Are you his friend?" one of the officers asked me.

"Yes," I said, staring at Jordan tied down on the stretcher. "I...I...don't know what happened. I think he had a panic attack or something." Now was not the time to be "cry baby Jamie," I thought to myself as I swallowed my tears. "He's...he's only nineteen. He's not a monster or a criminal or....he's..."

"Do you know how we can reach his parents?"

"He doesn't have any," I said even though Art was still around; he hadn't left the country yet. "He has a brother, Tim. Where are you taking him?"

"To the closest hospital," he said. "MGH. You can meet him in the ER."

"Yeah...yeah...okay," I said.

As Jordan continued to scream and shout, the paramedics transferred him into the ambulance and closed the doors. Once the sirens sounded, I knew Jordan was gone and the freak show was over (that's what it felt like: a freak show with spectators); Red Sox fans were free to go. As I milled out with the rest of the fans, I did my best to push through them so I could hurry up and get to the hospital. After a good fifteen minutes, I was finally on the T, on my way. Game days were always a nightmare. As I stood there on the T, I hoped to reach Tim before the police did, but I was too late; the police got to him first.

"I'm on my way," were the first words out of Tim's mouth.

"Tim..." I said, not sure what to say. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah," Tim said. "I'll meet you at the hospital."

By the time I got to the ER, Jordan was in a room by himself, three security guards not too far away. The room was completely devoid of any equipment or furniture, except for a bed where Jordan lay curled up in a ball. He was no longer in restraints. His eyes were opened, fixed on the plain white wall in front of him. His eyes briefly shifted to me, then back to the wall.

"Hi," I said. "Are you feeling better?" I wasn't quite sure what to say. He didn't respond, not like I really expected a response from him. "Tim's on his way." I would have pulled up a chair if there was a spare one in the room. He flinched as I went to stroke his head. So as not to upset him again, I pulled my hand away. I really didn't know what to do. My heart ached for him.

Lying despondently on the bed, Jordan started to sing a song I didn't recognize.

"All I want in life's a little bit of love..." he sang quietly.
To take the pain away
Getting strong today
A giant step each day."

"That's beautiful," I said. "What is it?" He didn't answer, though, continuing to sing.

"All I want in life's a little bit of love
To take the pain away
Getting strong today
A giant step each day."

"Jordan, talk to me," I said, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I didn't want him to see them, but I couldn't control them because I didn't know how to help him and I couldn't stand seeing him like this.

"I've been told..." he continued to sing the same song.
Only fools rush in
Only fools rush in
But I don't believe
I don't believe
I could still fall in love with you..."

"Jordan," I said again.

"Jamie," he muttered. "Spiritualized." As much as I liked the song and enjoyed listening to him sing, I wanted him to talk to me. He didn't want to talk, though, and continued to sing.

"I will love you till I die
And I will love you all the time
So please put your sweet hand in mine
And float in space and drift in time
All the time until I die
We'll float in space, just you and I."

"Jordan," I said. "Jordan, stop a second." Jordan always expressed himself best through music. He sang this song for a reason; it put his feelings into words perfectly.

"I think of you when I hear this song," he said, his eyes still focused on the floor. "I will love you till I die..." he resumed.
"And I will love you all the time
Everything happens today
And we're out here in space..."

He abruptly stopped singing and sat up, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I want you to leave," he said, which wasn't exactly what I expected him to say.

"I don't want to leave you here alone," I said. "You can sing some more if that's what you want. The band is Spiritualized? Is that their name?"

"Leave," he said. "Just leave. Leave, Jamie."

"No, I'm not leaving," I insisted.

"Leave!" he shouted to me, jumping off the bed. "Leave. Get out. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you anymore. Leave. Leave!"

"No, I'm not leaving," I said. "You're not getting rid of me." As he approached me, he shoved me so hard I nearly fell backwards. I grabbed his shoulders, preventing him from going after me again. "I love you and I'm not leaving."

"If you love me, you'll leave," he said. "You'll leave and never come back."

"I'm not going to do that," I said.

"Leave! Get out! Get out of my life! I don't want to see you again!"

"You don't mean that. Jordan, stop. Just stop..."

"Get out. Get out!" he shouted, sobbing.

A couple of nurses, in addition to the security guards, entered his room. 

"You'll have to leave now," one of the nurses said to me.

"Listen to me, Jordan, I love you. I'm not abandoning you," I said.

"Fuck you," he said and spit in my face. "I hate you. Get out. Get the fuck out. Just get out!"

Jordan ran around the room, eventually sitting in the corner with his head in his hands, pulling at his hair. "I hate you," he muttered to himself.

"I don't believe you," I said. "I don't believe you, Jordan."

"You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me," he muttered. "You ruined everything!"

"You don't mean that," I said.

"Let's go," one of the guards said, reaching for my arm to physically remove me from the room.

"You're not getting rid of me," I said again before leaving the room. "You can spit and kick me all you want, but you're not getting rid of me, you hear me, Jordan? You can't get rid of me."

The security guards escorted me out of the ER and into the waiting room where I ended up sitting, waiting for Tim to arrive. As I sat there, I found that Spiritualized song Jordan sang on YouTube. I played it quietly so that I could still hear it without disturbing everyone else in the waiting room.

"Fuck, Jordan," I said, tears falling as I listened to the beautiful ballad by this British band, Spiritualized. I must have listened to it three times in a row before Tim arrived.

"Hey," Tim said, sitting down beside me. Sniffing back my tears, I shoved my phone in my jeans pocket.

"He's in there," I said, pointing to the double doors of the ER. "They're all waiting for you. They won't tell me anything. Jordan kicked me out. He said I ruined everything. I didn't mean to..." Shaking my head, I looked away from Tim for a few seconds. "I was with him and I didn't want to leave him, but...but he didn't want me there." I rubbed my burning eyes with my hands. "Sorry. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. We were just leaving and he completely flipped out. He...the police came and they restrained him and...I'm sorry, Tim...He said he doesn't want to see me anymore, but I don't believe him. You'll talk to him, right? I know that's not what he really wants. I don't want to leave him. You know I really love him. You believe that, right?"

"Yeah, I know," he said. "I think you should go back to the house. He probably won't be coming home tonight. In fact, he'll probably be here for awhile. I guess he assaulted some police officers?"

"Yes," I said.

"Shit," Tim muttered, rubbing his temple with his fingers.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

"It's not your fault," he said. "It's not, okay?"

"I shouldn't have taken him," I said.

"He wanted to go," he said. "He really wanted to go. Don't, Jamie. Don't do this to yourself."

"I'm leaving Monday," I said. "I don't know if I should go. I don't know if I should leave him like this."

"And how do you think you're going to help him?" he said. "I've been dealing with this his whole life. You can't help him. I don't think anybody can. We've all tried. You have to go. What do you think you'll do for him, huh? He'll probably be in the hospital for a few weeks, maybe longer. Then we have to figure out this whole college thing. I think living on campus is out of the question. He has a lot going on and I think maybe it's best that you leave. What would happen if you stayed?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a teacher exchange program. There's a teacher from England taking your place, right?"

"Yes," I said. "That's why it's called a teacher exchange."

"So you have to go or the other teacher can't come. That teacher's probably been looking forward to coming, too, and if you bail out, you could really jeopardize the whole program," he said.

"Okay, okay," I said. "I get it."

"I know you think you can help him, but you can't. You can't fix him. And I'm sorry if this this sounds really shitty, but he needs to understand the ramifications of his words and actions. Yeah, I know he couldn't help what happened today, but what he said to you earlier...he knows what he was saying. I'll talk to him, but I think you should go back to the house and pack. I'll be staying here until they find a bed for him."

"Find a bed?" I asked. "Find a bed where?"

"In a psych unit," Tim said, standing up. "It's going to be different now. He's too old for Children's Hospital."

Tim walked away, disappearing through the double doors. After a few minutes, I got up and left the hospital. Despite everything that Tim said, guilt overwhelmed me. I hadn't loved anyone like this since Gavin and I didn't want to lose him even if the little shit spit at me and shoved me.

Art was in the living room when I got back, which made things even more awkward than they already were between us. I wasn't sure if I should stop and talk to him. Art decided to speak first.

"Where is he?" he asked.

"MGH," I said. "Tim thinks he'll be there for awhile." Art nodded and for a second I thought I saw a few tears in his eyes.

"You tried," he said. "I know you really tried. No one's ever been able to reach him like you did. I stopped trying years ago. I've rarely ever seen him smile. His face beams whenever you're around. I really hoped he'd go to England and not just because of Oxford; that was only part of it. I don't want him to lose you."

"I don't want to lose him, either," I said.

"Yeah," was all he said and got up. "There's a reason he's never been able to keep friends." He left the room, retreating to his office.

To distract myself, I packed up some of my things. Tim said I could leave my Jeep in their driveway; maybe as a guarantee of my return. In the midst of everything, I found the two promissory notes Jordan and I wrote each other. I stuck the one I wrote to Jordan on his bulletin board above his desk so he'd be sure to see it.

Anyway, tomorrow's a new day and it could only get better.

A/N

Three more chapters to go (or maybe longer)! Thanks for reading and voting!