Terrible Things
Pairing: Alex Gaskarth/ Jack Barakat
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Jack wants pizza when they get home, Alex wants to go to DisneyWorld
Disclaimer: I don't own these boys and if I did I would totally keep them from any situation like this
Author's Note: I am so sorry, I cried while writing it.
Thirty minutes ago I had been wondering what was for dinner. I had been looking over at Alex and asking him if we could order pizza when we get home. I said I was starving to death. He had pulled his lips into a smile at my exaggeration but agreed. Twenty five minutes ago I had been fiddling with the iPod connected to the car. Alex had told me to stop changing songs after twenty seconds. I told him to focus on the road. He told me to focus on not being such a dickhead. I had leaned over to kiss his cheek. He had turned his head briefly from the deserted road to press a quick kiss to my lips. Twenty minutes ago I had been leaning against the car door, watching him mouth the words to the music playing as he drove. He saw me watching him out of the corner of his eye and started singing out loud. I had grinned and started singing along. He reached over to turn up the volume and said my singing was terrible. I had pretended to be offended. Fifteen minutes ago I was back to leaning against the door, Alex was spouting his idea that we should go to DisneyWorld this month. He kept looking over at me, using one hand to gesture along with his words. DisneyWorld would be great around Christmas time he said. I had smiled at his excitement, hardly noticing the headlights coming toward us. Alex looked forward again, he had drifted into the next lane. I had lurched forward and yelled to get in the right lane. Alex had jerked the steering wheel, making the car spin on the almost icy road. Ten minutes ago I was laying in scattered glass and breathing against pavement. I didn't know where Alex was. I was too scared to open my eyes. There weren't sirens yet. Alex. I lifted my head up and looked around. There was a pickup with its front hood smoking. I couldn't see our car or Alex from this line of vision. Five minutes ago paramedics had helped my shocked body off the ground. I didn't feel too badly hurt, maybe a few fractured ribs. I had looked around, there were more paramedics pulling a stretcher up from the side of the road. I had seen our car, turned on its side. There was familiar sandy hair and a rose tattoo on the hand hanging off the side of the stretcher. Now. Now I was screaming. I was trying to pull away from the paramedics and run. They stopped me and are holding me back. The EMTs are pulling a sheet over my Alex. Why would they do that? He had a jacket on, it wasn't that cold. They're talking over his body, he isn't talking. He isn't moving. I don't notice turning my head into the brunette woman standing next to me but now I'm crying into her shoulder. She's saying something, maybe something comforting, or giving orders to the men that have my boyfriend. I don't know. There's a roaring in my ears and I can't see through the salt water coming out of my eyes. The woman that's maybe consoling me, her breath smells like pizza. If I wipe my eyes and squint, I can see the front light to our house at the end of the street. I never want to walk through that front door again