Give Me Your Heart And Your Soul [eleven]
Title: Give Me Your Heart And Your Soul (11/??)
Author: wesaysummerrr
Rating: pg-13/R
Pairing: Jalex
POV: Third
Summary: Alex gets forced into art classes over the summer . . . but is this a bad thing?
Disclaimer: I don't in any way own these guys. In no way is this true, and unless they both decided to take spontaneous art classes it’s all lies. Title belongs to Muse - Hysteria. Cut belongs to Kids In Glass Houses - The Morning Afterlife.
Author Notes: Just trying to sort out a ‘posting regime’ if you like. So I’ve crossed-posted this one, and thinking I might just do this for the rest of the chapters. What do you guys think?
previous chapters here.
Words screamed themselves blue murder into the atmosphere that could be cut with a knife. Blood pounded angrily in the veins that threatened to burst, eyes staring hard into the pair the other despised, unable to put the emotions that raged within into appropriate sentences.
He yelled, expletives dirtying his tongue as anger and fear combined into sheer stupidity. His hands curled into the familiar fists that had taken a beating over the years. An inky bruise littered the now white knuckles as fingernails bit into flesh, a matching bruise splattered over his right cheekbone, exaggerating the fading bruises that coloured his skin that had lost all colour. One of the only times he had become careless. Usually the evidence was hidden, positioned so that no one would suspect a thing, covered in clothing and hidden in shame. The evidence in this case was regularly all psychological, invisible to the ignorant eyes that glazed over the average teenager.
The shattering of glass was dim, distant, as though in another room, the one that he stood in spinning uncomfortably, eyes wandering. His throat was dry, sore from shouting so loudly, for so long. Longer than he could remember. All was lost as a menacing darkness shot towards his face, swelling until it blocked his sight and sent fear shooting through his heated veins. Too late, like always.
Pain cleaved his head in two, connecting hard with the wood flooring, and a gasp ripped the air from his lungs as his vision blurred. Incompetence and rage writhing in colourless forms in front of his eyes, distorting the black figure that walked away.
----
“Are you fucking with me?” Zack whispered, voice strained as he struggled to keep excitement bottled up. Jack laughed once, ducking his head at the irate shush! from the teacher.
“Would I lie about something like this?” A smile transformed his face, practically tasting the nerves and anticipation in the air. They were sat in one of the white-washed classrooms, textbooks splayed out messily in front of the group, the activity forgotten and paper crumpled in between eager fingers.
“Dude, this is awesome! Do you know what this means?” Rian ran his hand through his buzzcut hair, mouth shaping to form an elated ‘o’. He leant back in his chair, trying to take in the opportunity that placed itself in front of them.
Zack leant in further, eyes wide. “How did you find out?”
“I have my connections,” Jack replied, tapping a slender finger to his nose and winking slyly.
He smiled at how the boy was coming out of his shell, remembering the painfully shy, awkward kid that had strummed self-consciously on the bass what felt like just a few weeks ago. Several months had passed now, and they were becoming closer and closer.
But there was still one that felt like he was edging away. Blocking out the people that needed him, that he needed, an instinctive reaction to pain.
The voice left of Jack hadn’t sounded all lesson, and it was just as he twisted around to look at Alex that Jack caught the expression on his face - the one that he hid from the rest of the world, when there was no one looking and no façade to keep up.
He felt like his heart fell from his body, landing with a liquid thud on the dirty, commercially tiled floor.
Alex’s eyes were glazed, staring down at his fingers that were twirling a pen aimlessly, distracting himself. His features were relaxed into an expression so fragile, so achingly vulnerable that it bruised the space where his heart should have been; his mouth was slightly down turned, and hopelessness tainted the usually vivacious smile that graced Alex’s face, eyes glinting as he cracked a joke at someone else’s expense, teeth exposed as a laugh bubbled in his throat. But now it was he was a different person, lost in the midst of something brought upon him, leeching out the life from within.
Jack’s mouth set. He had to do something.
“Did you hear, Alex? The good news?” Jack asked, keeping his voice light to disguise how it wanted to fluctuate. The other boy barely looked at him. The meekest flicker of a smile quirked one side of his mouth up, such as small amount it wasn’t even worth calling a smile. It was the memory of happiness, a brief ghost that had been forgotten.
“Yeah.” The word was listless, mumbled through the cuff of his sleeve as he rubbed a hand across his eyes. Jack leant back, having unconsciously leaned forward as he had animatedly told Zack and Rian what he’d overheard at a local gig the other night.
“So what do you think, you game?”
Alex sniffed, fingers twitching and shifting as he stared at them, not bothering to lift his eyes to look at Jack. “Sounds good.” His voice was flat, as broken as a pane of glass that drops to the floor. It wasn’t his voice, it wasn’t Alex. The dead tone belonged to someone who couldn’t muster the energy to care about anything anymore, nothing was important apart from getting through another day without drawing attention, or doing anything that warranted pain.
“Alex,” Jack cursed himself silently as his voice cracked, ignoring the violent glares from the teacher who was wandering around the class, ensuring that work was being completed. Zack and Rian both had their heads bent over their work, conscious that the hawk-like eyes were paying too much attention to their conversation.
The only indication that the other had heard Jack was a deliberate blink, eyelids fluttering closed, immersing himself in the brief moment of darkness, where all else could be forgotten. Where he was safe.
“Please, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out,” Jack whispered fervently, bending his head to try and connect eyes with Alex. But to no avail. The short strands of hair swept across his eyes, just about hiding the way his eyebrows arched upward, desperation and a fierce determination battling for supremacy. “I’m here for you, we’re all here for you. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
Jack shifted, feigning interest in the noticeably blank piece of paper in front of him, scribbling down something incoherent as the teacher walked past him, deliberately slowly. But that was all the distraction Alex needed to glance at the clock on the wall and chuck his belongings into his bag just as the bell shrieked out into the relative silence. Jack’s head jerked up, eyebrows knitting together and arm stretching out to detain Alex as he stood abruptly and rushed from the room, head bent, eyes downcast.
Words stuck in his throat, unable to verbalise anything but a scratchy sound of disbelief. Then again, he could understand Alex’s reluctance to trust him - Jack had been so close to walking away, leaving Alex because he was convinced that he was no good for the other boy, only causing more strife where there was no need.
But he’d seen what Alex was dealing with. He’d seen the countless fading bruises on his pale skin, stretched along his ribs as they changed for gym, and the emotional effects it was having on Alex. The way his confidence had evaporated, the smile that he flashed nearly every person in the corridor disappeared, along with the cocky winks and sly jokes at other people’s expense, all evidence of that Alex gone.
Jack couldn’t leave him. He didn’t know how he could think something so ridiculous.
---
Alex sat uncomfortably in the chair, claustrophobia creeping in as the seat swallowed him whole, enveloping him in the malleable fabric, the low ceiling pressing down on him. He breathed out shakily, fingers entwining themselves around each other as he stared at the plaque on the door in front of him. Mr. F. Hickory, Head Master.
Glancing around the room, his eyes rested on the large clock face that emitted a loud ticking noise, the red hand progressing sluggishly.
Muffled footsteps dragged his head forward once more, and the door swung open as he flicked hair out of his eyes.
“Ah, Mr. Gaskarth, come in, come in.” The voice was overly cheery, and yet had a subtle threat underneath it, like the threads of the finest silk draped over the blade of a knife. Alex stood awkwardly, hitching his bag higher up on his shoulder. He watched the suited man weave around numerous box cabinets to sit down behind a large mahogany desk, before indicating to the seat within close proximity to the desk. Closer than Alex liked.
“Please, sit down.” It wasn’t a question. His voice was far too commanding, too expectant to be refused. Alex dropped his weight into the seat, avoiding eye contact with the grey haired, fierce-looking man opposite. He stared at his feet, beat up converse twitching nervously. Lifting his eyes momentarily, he located the clock and felt a little leap of optimism in his chest.
It was 4:48PM. If this ‘meeting’ continued for long enough, Alex could avoid encountering his father at home. He didn’t get home until at least 7:00PM. And Alex could always kill time at the park or something, wasting time until he knew his father would be home and occupied in his study. Then again, Alex could always just avoid the whole mess and not go home.
Or not to his home, anyway. There was always Jack’s.
But he shook his head at his own stupidity, Jack wouldn’t let him in, not after the way Alex was with him in class. Absorbed in his thoughts, Alex frowned at his own behaviour. Why did Jack have to get the cold shoulder? He mentally shook himself. Jack was probably one of the only people who had dealt with his shit for this long, and who hadn’t given up on him like so many others had. And Zack, and Rian. Swearing at himself, he tugged his sleeve down a little lower to hide the bruises on his wrists.
A voice wormed its way back into his ears, concerned, but in the selfish way. Concerned for the school’s reputation, not for whatever may be going on in Alex’s life that is causing him to slack.
“…lacking slightly.” The voice paused, becoming more irate. “Alex, are you even listening to me?”
Alex responded unconsciously. “No.” The word was up his throat and out of his mouth before he’d had time to register it. Hearing his voice die in the suddenly acidic silence, his eyes widened and lifted to stare numbly at the man bristling in front of him.
Then something happened. The way Alex could practically see the blood boiling in his veins, heating his cheeks and setting alight a fire in his eyes, had fear flooding into his stomach, liquid and uncontrollable. His muscles tensed, a defensive anger already curling his fists by his sides, a hard knot of anticipation and dread solidifying in his chest.
Mr. Hickory reached forward, fingers gripping the smooth glass of water on his desk. But Alex wasn’t expecting any movement, and being in the state he was - paranoid with fear - he flinched so hard that he threw his bag onto the floor, hands and arms jerking up to cover his face, a barely audible, terrified whimper shaping his lips.
“Alex, you alright son?” The soft, genuinely worried voice drifted to his ears, piercing the bubble with which he’d surrounded himself, braced for another onslaught. That didn’t come. Hearing a glass being set down onto the wooden desk, he lowered his arms and realised where he was. In the Head Master’s office, at School.
Not at home.
Glancing up, Alex fumbled with the straps on his rucksack as he picked it back up, swallowed uncomfortably at the expression in Mr. Hickory’s eyes. It wasn’t a dull anger at his ignorance, it was worry for why he had become so nervous.
“Alex? Is there something troubling you?” He asked again, the same concern in the tones of his voice. Alex couldn’t help but feel helpless under the need to tell someone, someone that could do something about it. But what if he found out? Alex didn’t think he would be able to cope if things got worse.
He found himself twisting the nylon strap of his rucksack between his fingers nervously. There was a crushing need to tell the man sitting in front of him everything. Everything. And yet, reluctance lodged the words in his throat, and stopped him from breaking down. Of course his father would find out. There was no way that this would be kept as quiet as possible if he did tell Mr. Hickory. It would turn his world upside down, and there would be nothing that felt real. Even if the only thing he knew to be real churned his stomach and filled him with fear and anger.
Except Jack. He knew that Jack was real. And that what they had was real.
With that in mind, Alex lifted his head to look into the flecked brown eyes that were tight with worry, his own glassy and dazed.
----
Rain pummelled the ground Alex walked on, footsteps tapping onto the concrete as his converse soaked up as much moisture as physically possible. A chill wind whipped his hair back from his face, stinging his eyes and bringing colour to his cheeks, angling the rain so that it felt like hundreds of tiny knives on his skin. The night was drawing to a close, the sun sinking fast in the crimson sky, bleeding into the horizon. He drew his hood closer around his face, squinting against the harsh rain and cold wind, biting back a shiver.
He knew this was wrong. He shouldn’t feel like this, like he wasn’t wanted anywhere. Like the one place where he so badly wanted to go would reject him. It was stupid, and unwarranted.
Stepping out into the road Alex locked onto the dim glint of the metal gate across from him, the painted metal catching the light of the street light, winking in the darkness. The only evidence of the children’s park behind the gate. Eyes flicking left, he started as a cat ran across the grass, only just making out the lithe black shape in the rain that sheeted down. Shaking his head at himself, he hopped up the curb and grasped the cold, wet metal gate and swung it open, stepping into the place that had become so accustomed to his late night visits.
Uncaring that his hoody was now soaked through and he could feel the wetness trickling down his body, like tears do down his cheeks, Alex traversed the distance between him and the swings. Ignoring the squelch of his converse as they filled with water, he walked into the rain and wiped the pool of water from the rubber swing seat and sat down, wrapping a hand around the cold, thick chain, numb fingers slipping on the wet metal.
Thoughts whirled around his head, eating away at the resolve that had hardened in his chest, dissolving the plain reasoning that had spurred his actions on. He knew he’d done the right thing. Hadn’t he?
His teeth tore at his lip, closing his eyes as the rain beat against his back and settled in his bone marrow. What if this changed nothing? The thought had his face screwing up against the wave of depression, and had logic pinned up against the wall of paranoia. Fear of having to live with this situation for longer than he’d already endured crammed such ridiculous thoughts into his head, even though he knew that acting on something like this was the best way of getting rid of it. But a mind twisted out of control was not a good friend.
What if this did nothing? What if he had to endure living every day in fear of returning to his own fucking home? If every day was a mess of waiting for that one person to come home and decide if he needed to let some anger out, of unwanted attention from petty school bullies because they were so insecure about themselves that they’d take it out on some poor bastard; and the wasted hope that everything fading him from the inside would just disappear. What if his actions proved worthless, just as he’d been made to feel. A sob rose in his throat, but he bit it back down, gnawing on his lip until he tasted blood. The salty, metallic taste had his stomach churning, but he kept chewing. His free hand tightened into a shaking fist in his lap, head bent as he grappled with the myriad of desperate thoughts and wishes that tore at his heart.
Things had to get better. There was only so far something could sink before it began to climb upwards again. Or so he hoped. Maybe he would be the exception to that rule, pushed into something that no one else had experienced yet. He must have been a self-consumed bastard in a previous life to deserve this.
An owl shrieked in the nearby woods, and Alex muttered a “fuck” as he jumped, lurched back to the park in which he sat, rain hammering down, the fat, heavy drops like bullets on his skin, hard enough to leave bruises.
Regaining awareness of his surroundings, Alex realised that he was shaking, tremors racking his limbs and knocking his teeth together. Making a decision and flinging everything else to the back of his mind, he stood up from the swing and took off, trying to rub some warmth back into his hands. Stepping through the gate once more, he shoved his hands underneath his armpits and breathed out shakily, aware that darkness had now completely descended and how his breath condensed instantly and twirled up in white plumes. Hugging his drenched hoody around him closer, Alex broke into a run, suddenly desperate to get into the warmth, and to have someone with him that truly cared about him.
Gritting his teeth to stop them chattering, he swiped wet hair out of his eyes and ran on, guided by the orange street lamps, feet slapping down into puddles with every step, rain still pounding on his shoulders, the icy-numbness dull and distant, but painful at the same time, like blunt knives entering his skin.
-
It took him an age to get there. Winding through the blackened streets, his breathing was fast and shaky, hands blue and numb, and limbs deadened from effort and the cold that spread through his body. Breathing out a sigh of relief - albeit laboured - Alex rounded the final corner and put in a last spurt of energy before he dragged his feet up the paved pathway, leading to a motion sensitive light that flicked on and illuminated a bright red door. Breathing hard and shaking convulsively, it took Alex several attempts to summon the strength in his fingers to press onto the bell, frowning at his deadened fingers just bent under the pressure.
He almost didn’t expect a reply. It must have been late into the night, the moon almost at its peak. But nevertheless, he got one. It was minutes before he saw any movement in the house, the freezing temperature drooping his eyelids as he swayed on the spot, suddenly dead on his feet. A light flicked on in the hallway, which burned his eyes and had him passing his numb fingers over his frozen face.
A figure wandered over to the door and pulled it open hesitantly, before an odd sounding squawk that was in between a gasp of shock and a yell of recognition pierced his ears.
“Alex? Shit! What the hell, man, get inside before you freeze!” Jack pulled him in, forcefully taking hold of his arms and dragging his almost useless body over the threshold, face lodged into an expression of shock. “What are you doing outside at this time? Are you fucking crazy?”
Alex’s head was spinning. It was like the only thing he could concentrate on was how cold he was; how his fingers and toes screamed as the warm air attacked them, numb and lifeless; his body raked from convulsions as his muscles spasmed to try and generate heat; how his chest ached and his lungs hurt every time he breathed in as knives plunged into his skull.
Jack practically ripped off Alex’s shoes, wrinkling his nose at how wet through they were, water dripping steadily from the soles. Before he then tugged off Alex’s hoody, grabbing handfuls of the sodden material and pulling, regardless of whether Alex co-operated or not. Jack pulled him upstairs, yelling out loud to his mother as Alex tripped up the steps, before he was hauled into Jack’s room and warm, dry clothes were thrown at him. Blinking stupidly as his frozen mind ticked over slowly, he dropped the sweats and jumper and fumbled with his jeans, breathing shakily and fingers trembling so bad he couldn’t get a grip on the belt. Every time he tried to tighten his grip on the metal buckle, his fingers gave way, white from the lack of blood.
Another pair of hands suddenly attacked the belt, yanking it undone and wrestling with the sodden jeans. Alex laughed, the sound catching in his throat.
“You s-seem practised in t-t-taking off-ff my clothes, Jack Barak-kat,” he joked, the knocking of his teeth together loud in his ears. The happiness bloomed in his stomach as he heard Jack laughed softly, and looked up just in time to catch how his eyes glinted.
“Do you need your boxers off too?” He suggested, ducking his head to nip gently at Alex’s blue lip, fingers slipping below the elastic waistband of Alex’s printed boxers. A smile cracked the sheet of ice that was Alex’s face, and he leant forward into the contact, taking advantage of the fact that Jack had started it. He pressed his lips to the other’s mouth, brushing over his exposed teeth. Alex shifted so that Jack’s hand slipped a little further down his hips, brushing over the cold skin in a way that had butterflies erupting in his stomach. In truth, he craved Jack’s warmth, more than ever. He was always warm, his skin hot to the touch, inviting. He pressed his shaking body closer, screwing his closed eyes tighter shut, feeling the hand on his skin and the other entwining itself into his hair.
This is what it’s like to be wanted. The contentment that stretches you out until you think you’re going to burst, but the tight grip of the person that makes the sun come up in the morning keeps you together. This is what Alex wanted. He smiled into the kiss, hands withdrawing slowly from the tangled mess of Jack’s hair and grinning sheepishly as they met eyes. He heard again Jack’s sly comment before they kissed.
“O-only in your d-dreams, Jack-o.” Alex countered, a little breathlessly. Jack winked, and turned away, grabbing another jumper from his set of drawers as Alex managed to tug on the cotton sweats and the thick jumper at his feet, the prickling sensation of pins and needles filling his legs and hands. He grimaced at the odd pain as he moved.
“Fine. But don’t be shocked if you get a surprise during the night,” Jack raised an eyebrow, adopting his breezy tone of voice. “S’all I’m saying.”
Alex attempted to punch Jack, but his makeshift fist gave way instantly, the cold leeching all the strength from them.
“S-shut it, dude and g-get downstairs. I’m f-freezing my arse off h-here.” Smiling, he followed Jack down the stairs, a little more stable on his feet and together, his mind more composed from seeing Jack, his thoughts less likely to drive him insane.
Alex then found himself being smothered in blankets and towels, forced down onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter, another figure having been roused awake and commanded into action. Her face was welcoming, dark hair flowing in thick waves down her back, as she turned from Alex to get more layers. He heard snippets of whispered conversation through the daze that slowed his senses.
“How did he…I don’t understand…you’re friends?…he looks like….some more towels.” The woman’s words were confused and hushed, and Alex didn’t bother to try and listen harder. He bent his head, rounding his shoulders and thought about getting warm.
A pair of arms wrapped around him, a warm body pressed against his cold skin.
“I’m curious. What were you doing out there?” Jack murmured, placing his head close to Alex’s, worry evident in his voice.
“D-didn’t want to go home. Th-thought that I could bide time at the park.” Alex stuttered through the shivers, teeth knocking together fiercely and he craned his head to look up at the other boy, before burying his head into the folds of fabric of his t-shirt.
“You know, you’re going to be the death of me one day.” Jack laughed, tightening his grip. Alex tried to laugh, but instead he sounded like he was choking.
“S-sorry.”
Jack pulled back. “Don’t ever fucking apologise to me. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”
Alex closed his eyes, concentrating on the warmth that gradually, oh-so painfully slowly returned into his body, flooding in his stomach first and then spreading from his chest. The sound of padded footsteps reached his ears.
“I see you two are close then, Jack.” The woman Alex presumed to be Jack’s mother mused, a smile in her voice.
He felt Jack laugh, chest rising sharply as he replied. Alex could practically feel the smile that graced Jack’s face, his eyes glowing as Alex himself smiled into the boy’s shoulder, slipping further into a weary unconsciousness as his tired eyes slipped closed, fingers intertwined in Jack’s.
“Yeah, he’s a keeper, this one.”
---------
Author: wesaysummerrr
Rating: pg-13/R
Pairing: Jalex
POV: Third
Summary: Alex gets forced into art classes over the summer . . . but is this a bad thing?
Disclaimer: I don't in any way own these guys. In no way is this true, and unless they both decided to take spontaneous art classes it’s all lies. Title belongs to Muse - Hysteria. Cut belongs to Kids In Glass Houses - The Morning Afterlife.
Author Notes: Just trying to sort out a ‘posting regime’ if you like. So I’ve crossed-posted this one, and thinking I might just do this for the rest of the chapters. What do you guys think?
previous chapters here.
Words screamed themselves blue murder into the atmosphere that could be cut with a knife. Blood pounded angrily in the veins that threatened to burst, eyes staring hard into the pair the other despised, unable to put the emotions that raged within into appropriate sentences.
He yelled, expletives dirtying his tongue as anger and fear combined into sheer stupidity. His hands curled into the familiar fists that had taken a beating over the years. An inky bruise littered the now white knuckles as fingernails bit into flesh, a matching bruise splattered over his right cheekbone, exaggerating the fading bruises that coloured his skin that had lost all colour. One of the only times he had become careless. Usually the evidence was hidden, positioned so that no one would suspect a thing, covered in clothing and hidden in shame. The evidence in this case was regularly all psychological, invisible to the ignorant eyes that glazed over the average teenager.
The shattering of glass was dim, distant, as though in another room, the one that he stood in spinning uncomfortably, eyes wandering. His throat was dry, sore from shouting so loudly, for so long. Longer than he could remember. All was lost as a menacing darkness shot towards his face, swelling until it blocked his sight and sent fear shooting through his heated veins. Too late, like always.
Pain cleaved his head in two, connecting hard with the wood flooring, and a gasp ripped the air from his lungs as his vision blurred. Incompetence and rage writhing in colourless forms in front of his eyes, distorting the black figure that walked away.
----
“Are you fucking with me?” Zack whispered, voice strained as he struggled to keep excitement bottled up. Jack laughed once, ducking his head at the irate shush! from the teacher.
“Would I lie about something like this?” A smile transformed his face, practically tasting the nerves and anticipation in the air. They were sat in one of the white-washed classrooms, textbooks splayed out messily in front of the group, the activity forgotten and paper crumpled in between eager fingers.
“Dude, this is awesome! Do you know what this means?” Rian ran his hand through his buzzcut hair, mouth shaping to form an elated ‘o’. He leant back in his chair, trying to take in the opportunity that placed itself in front of them.
Zack leant in further, eyes wide. “How did you find out?”
“I have my connections,” Jack replied, tapping a slender finger to his nose and winking slyly.
He smiled at how the boy was coming out of his shell, remembering the painfully shy, awkward kid that had strummed self-consciously on the bass what felt like just a few weeks ago. Several months had passed now, and they were becoming closer and closer.
But there was still one that felt like he was edging away. Blocking out the people that needed him, that he needed, an instinctive reaction to pain.
The voice left of Jack hadn’t sounded all lesson, and it was just as he twisted around to look at Alex that Jack caught the expression on his face - the one that he hid from the rest of the world, when there was no one looking and no façade to keep up.
He felt like his heart fell from his body, landing with a liquid thud on the dirty, commercially tiled floor.
Alex’s eyes were glazed, staring down at his fingers that were twirling a pen aimlessly, distracting himself. His features were relaxed into an expression so fragile, so achingly vulnerable that it bruised the space where his heart should have been; his mouth was slightly down turned, and hopelessness tainted the usually vivacious smile that graced Alex’s face, eyes glinting as he cracked a joke at someone else’s expense, teeth exposed as a laugh bubbled in his throat. But now it was he was a different person, lost in the midst of something brought upon him, leeching out the life from within.
Jack’s mouth set. He had to do something.
“Did you hear, Alex? The good news?” Jack asked, keeping his voice light to disguise how it wanted to fluctuate. The other boy barely looked at him. The meekest flicker of a smile quirked one side of his mouth up, such as small amount it wasn’t even worth calling a smile. It was the memory of happiness, a brief ghost that had been forgotten.
“Yeah.” The word was listless, mumbled through the cuff of his sleeve as he rubbed a hand across his eyes. Jack leant back, having unconsciously leaned forward as he had animatedly told Zack and Rian what he’d overheard at a local gig the other night.
“So what do you think, you game?”
Alex sniffed, fingers twitching and shifting as he stared at them, not bothering to lift his eyes to look at Jack. “Sounds good.” His voice was flat, as broken as a pane of glass that drops to the floor. It wasn’t his voice, it wasn’t Alex. The dead tone belonged to someone who couldn’t muster the energy to care about anything anymore, nothing was important apart from getting through another day without drawing attention, or doing anything that warranted pain.
“Alex,” Jack cursed himself silently as his voice cracked, ignoring the violent glares from the teacher who was wandering around the class, ensuring that work was being completed. Zack and Rian both had their heads bent over their work, conscious that the hawk-like eyes were paying too much attention to their conversation.
The only indication that the other had heard Jack was a deliberate blink, eyelids fluttering closed, immersing himself in the brief moment of darkness, where all else could be forgotten. Where he was safe.
“Please, don’t do this. Don’t shut me out,” Jack whispered fervently, bending his head to try and connect eyes with Alex. But to no avail. The short strands of hair swept across his eyes, just about hiding the way his eyebrows arched upward, desperation and a fierce determination battling for supremacy. “I’m here for you, we’re all here for you. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”
Jack shifted, feigning interest in the noticeably blank piece of paper in front of him, scribbling down something incoherent as the teacher walked past him, deliberately slowly. But that was all the distraction Alex needed to glance at the clock on the wall and chuck his belongings into his bag just as the bell shrieked out into the relative silence. Jack’s head jerked up, eyebrows knitting together and arm stretching out to detain Alex as he stood abruptly and rushed from the room, head bent, eyes downcast.
Words stuck in his throat, unable to verbalise anything but a scratchy sound of disbelief. Then again, he could understand Alex’s reluctance to trust him - Jack had been so close to walking away, leaving Alex because he was convinced that he was no good for the other boy, only causing more strife where there was no need.
But he’d seen what Alex was dealing with. He’d seen the countless fading bruises on his pale skin, stretched along his ribs as they changed for gym, and the emotional effects it was having on Alex. The way his confidence had evaporated, the smile that he flashed nearly every person in the corridor disappeared, along with the cocky winks and sly jokes at other people’s expense, all evidence of that Alex gone.
Jack couldn’t leave him. He didn’t know how he could think something so ridiculous.
---
Alex sat uncomfortably in the chair, claustrophobia creeping in as the seat swallowed him whole, enveloping him in the malleable fabric, the low ceiling pressing down on him. He breathed out shakily, fingers entwining themselves around each other as he stared at the plaque on the door in front of him. Mr. F. Hickory, Head Master.
Glancing around the room, his eyes rested on the large clock face that emitted a loud ticking noise, the red hand progressing sluggishly.
Muffled footsteps dragged his head forward once more, and the door swung open as he flicked hair out of his eyes.
“Ah, Mr. Gaskarth, come in, come in.” The voice was overly cheery, and yet had a subtle threat underneath it, like the threads of the finest silk draped over the blade of a knife. Alex stood awkwardly, hitching his bag higher up on his shoulder. He watched the suited man weave around numerous box cabinets to sit down behind a large mahogany desk, before indicating to the seat within close proximity to the desk. Closer than Alex liked.
“Please, sit down.” It wasn’t a question. His voice was far too commanding, too expectant to be refused. Alex dropped his weight into the seat, avoiding eye contact with the grey haired, fierce-looking man opposite. He stared at his feet, beat up converse twitching nervously. Lifting his eyes momentarily, he located the clock and felt a little leap of optimism in his chest.
It was 4:48PM. If this ‘meeting’ continued for long enough, Alex could avoid encountering his father at home. He didn’t get home until at least 7:00PM. And Alex could always kill time at the park or something, wasting time until he knew his father would be home and occupied in his study. Then again, Alex could always just avoid the whole mess and not go home.
Or not to his home, anyway. There was always Jack’s.
But he shook his head at his own stupidity, Jack wouldn’t let him in, not after the way Alex was with him in class. Absorbed in his thoughts, Alex frowned at his own behaviour. Why did Jack have to get the cold shoulder? He mentally shook himself. Jack was probably one of the only people who had dealt with his shit for this long, and who hadn’t given up on him like so many others had. And Zack, and Rian. Swearing at himself, he tugged his sleeve down a little lower to hide the bruises on his wrists.
A voice wormed its way back into his ears, concerned, but in the selfish way. Concerned for the school’s reputation, not for whatever may be going on in Alex’s life that is causing him to slack.
“…lacking slightly.” The voice paused, becoming more irate. “Alex, are you even listening to me?”
Alex responded unconsciously. “No.” The word was up his throat and out of his mouth before he’d had time to register it. Hearing his voice die in the suddenly acidic silence, his eyes widened and lifted to stare numbly at the man bristling in front of him.
Then something happened. The way Alex could practically see the blood boiling in his veins, heating his cheeks and setting alight a fire in his eyes, had fear flooding into his stomach, liquid and uncontrollable. His muscles tensed, a defensive anger already curling his fists by his sides, a hard knot of anticipation and dread solidifying in his chest.
Mr. Hickory reached forward, fingers gripping the smooth glass of water on his desk. But Alex wasn’t expecting any movement, and being in the state he was - paranoid with fear - he flinched so hard that he threw his bag onto the floor, hands and arms jerking up to cover his face, a barely audible, terrified whimper shaping his lips.
“Alex, you alright son?” The soft, genuinely worried voice drifted to his ears, piercing the bubble with which he’d surrounded himself, braced for another onslaught. That didn’t come. Hearing a glass being set down onto the wooden desk, he lowered his arms and realised where he was. In the Head Master’s office, at School.
Not at home.
Glancing up, Alex fumbled with the straps on his rucksack as he picked it back up, swallowed uncomfortably at the expression in Mr. Hickory’s eyes. It wasn’t a dull anger at his ignorance, it was worry for why he had become so nervous.
“Alex? Is there something troubling you?” He asked again, the same concern in the tones of his voice. Alex couldn’t help but feel helpless under the need to tell someone, someone that could do something about it. But what if he found out? Alex didn’t think he would be able to cope if things got worse.
He found himself twisting the nylon strap of his rucksack between his fingers nervously. There was a crushing need to tell the man sitting in front of him everything. Everything. And yet, reluctance lodged the words in his throat, and stopped him from breaking down. Of course his father would find out. There was no way that this would be kept as quiet as possible if he did tell Mr. Hickory. It would turn his world upside down, and there would be nothing that felt real. Even if the only thing he knew to be real churned his stomach and filled him with fear and anger.
Except Jack. He knew that Jack was real. And that what they had was real.
With that in mind, Alex lifted his head to look into the flecked brown eyes that were tight with worry, his own glassy and dazed.
----
Rain pummelled the ground Alex walked on, footsteps tapping onto the concrete as his converse soaked up as much moisture as physically possible. A chill wind whipped his hair back from his face, stinging his eyes and bringing colour to his cheeks, angling the rain so that it felt like hundreds of tiny knives on his skin. The night was drawing to a close, the sun sinking fast in the crimson sky, bleeding into the horizon. He drew his hood closer around his face, squinting against the harsh rain and cold wind, biting back a shiver.
He knew this was wrong. He shouldn’t feel like this, like he wasn’t wanted anywhere. Like the one place where he so badly wanted to go would reject him. It was stupid, and unwarranted.
Stepping out into the road Alex locked onto the dim glint of the metal gate across from him, the painted metal catching the light of the street light, winking in the darkness. The only evidence of the children’s park behind the gate. Eyes flicking left, he started as a cat ran across the grass, only just making out the lithe black shape in the rain that sheeted down. Shaking his head at himself, he hopped up the curb and grasped the cold, wet metal gate and swung it open, stepping into the place that had become so accustomed to his late night visits.
Uncaring that his hoody was now soaked through and he could feel the wetness trickling down his body, like tears do down his cheeks, Alex traversed the distance between him and the swings. Ignoring the squelch of his converse as they filled with water, he walked into the rain and wiped the pool of water from the rubber swing seat and sat down, wrapping a hand around the cold, thick chain, numb fingers slipping on the wet metal.
Thoughts whirled around his head, eating away at the resolve that had hardened in his chest, dissolving the plain reasoning that had spurred his actions on. He knew he’d done the right thing. Hadn’t he?
His teeth tore at his lip, closing his eyes as the rain beat against his back and settled in his bone marrow. What if this changed nothing? The thought had his face screwing up against the wave of depression, and had logic pinned up against the wall of paranoia. Fear of having to live with this situation for longer than he’d already endured crammed such ridiculous thoughts into his head, even though he knew that acting on something like this was the best way of getting rid of it. But a mind twisted out of control was not a good friend.
What if this did nothing? What if he had to endure living every day in fear of returning to his own fucking home? If every day was a mess of waiting for that one person to come home and decide if he needed to let some anger out, of unwanted attention from petty school bullies because they were so insecure about themselves that they’d take it out on some poor bastard; and the wasted hope that everything fading him from the inside would just disappear. What if his actions proved worthless, just as he’d been made to feel. A sob rose in his throat, but he bit it back down, gnawing on his lip until he tasted blood. The salty, metallic taste had his stomach churning, but he kept chewing. His free hand tightened into a shaking fist in his lap, head bent as he grappled with the myriad of desperate thoughts and wishes that tore at his heart.
Things had to get better. There was only so far something could sink before it began to climb upwards again. Or so he hoped. Maybe he would be the exception to that rule, pushed into something that no one else had experienced yet. He must have been a self-consumed bastard in a previous life to deserve this.
An owl shrieked in the nearby woods, and Alex muttered a “fuck” as he jumped, lurched back to the park in which he sat, rain hammering down, the fat, heavy drops like bullets on his skin, hard enough to leave bruises.
Regaining awareness of his surroundings, Alex realised that he was shaking, tremors racking his limbs and knocking his teeth together. Making a decision and flinging everything else to the back of his mind, he stood up from the swing and took off, trying to rub some warmth back into his hands. Stepping through the gate once more, he shoved his hands underneath his armpits and breathed out shakily, aware that darkness had now completely descended and how his breath condensed instantly and twirled up in white plumes. Hugging his drenched hoody around him closer, Alex broke into a run, suddenly desperate to get into the warmth, and to have someone with him that truly cared about him.
Gritting his teeth to stop them chattering, he swiped wet hair out of his eyes and ran on, guided by the orange street lamps, feet slapping down into puddles with every step, rain still pounding on his shoulders, the icy-numbness dull and distant, but painful at the same time, like blunt knives entering his skin.
-
It took him an age to get there. Winding through the blackened streets, his breathing was fast and shaky, hands blue and numb, and limbs deadened from effort and the cold that spread through his body. Breathing out a sigh of relief - albeit laboured - Alex rounded the final corner and put in a last spurt of energy before he dragged his feet up the paved pathway, leading to a motion sensitive light that flicked on and illuminated a bright red door. Breathing hard and shaking convulsively, it took Alex several attempts to summon the strength in his fingers to press onto the bell, frowning at his deadened fingers just bent under the pressure.
He almost didn’t expect a reply. It must have been late into the night, the moon almost at its peak. But nevertheless, he got one. It was minutes before he saw any movement in the house, the freezing temperature drooping his eyelids as he swayed on the spot, suddenly dead on his feet. A light flicked on in the hallway, which burned his eyes and had him passing his numb fingers over his frozen face.
A figure wandered over to the door and pulled it open hesitantly, before an odd sounding squawk that was in between a gasp of shock and a yell of recognition pierced his ears.
“Alex? Shit! What the hell, man, get inside before you freeze!” Jack pulled him in, forcefully taking hold of his arms and dragging his almost useless body over the threshold, face lodged into an expression of shock. “What are you doing outside at this time? Are you fucking crazy?”
Alex’s head was spinning. It was like the only thing he could concentrate on was how cold he was; how his fingers and toes screamed as the warm air attacked them, numb and lifeless; his body raked from convulsions as his muscles spasmed to try and generate heat; how his chest ached and his lungs hurt every time he breathed in as knives plunged into his skull.
Jack practically ripped off Alex’s shoes, wrinkling his nose at how wet through they were, water dripping steadily from the soles. Before he then tugged off Alex’s hoody, grabbing handfuls of the sodden material and pulling, regardless of whether Alex co-operated or not. Jack pulled him upstairs, yelling out loud to his mother as Alex tripped up the steps, before he was hauled into Jack’s room and warm, dry clothes were thrown at him. Blinking stupidly as his frozen mind ticked over slowly, he dropped the sweats and jumper and fumbled with his jeans, breathing shakily and fingers trembling so bad he couldn’t get a grip on the belt. Every time he tried to tighten his grip on the metal buckle, his fingers gave way, white from the lack of blood.
Another pair of hands suddenly attacked the belt, yanking it undone and wrestling with the sodden jeans. Alex laughed, the sound catching in his throat.
“You s-seem practised in t-t-taking off-ff my clothes, Jack Barak-kat,” he joked, the knocking of his teeth together loud in his ears. The happiness bloomed in his stomach as he heard Jack laughed softly, and looked up just in time to catch how his eyes glinted.
“Do you need your boxers off too?” He suggested, ducking his head to nip gently at Alex’s blue lip, fingers slipping below the elastic waistband of Alex’s printed boxers. A smile cracked the sheet of ice that was Alex’s face, and he leant forward into the contact, taking advantage of the fact that Jack had started it. He pressed his lips to the other’s mouth, brushing over his exposed teeth. Alex shifted so that Jack’s hand slipped a little further down his hips, brushing over the cold skin in a way that had butterflies erupting in his stomach. In truth, he craved Jack’s warmth, more than ever. He was always warm, his skin hot to the touch, inviting. He pressed his shaking body closer, screwing his closed eyes tighter shut, feeling the hand on his skin and the other entwining itself into his hair.
This is what it’s like to be wanted. The contentment that stretches you out until you think you’re going to burst, but the tight grip of the person that makes the sun come up in the morning keeps you together. This is what Alex wanted. He smiled into the kiss, hands withdrawing slowly from the tangled mess of Jack’s hair and grinning sheepishly as they met eyes. He heard again Jack’s sly comment before they kissed.
“O-only in your d-dreams, Jack-o.” Alex countered, a little breathlessly. Jack winked, and turned away, grabbing another jumper from his set of drawers as Alex managed to tug on the cotton sweats and the thick jumper at his feet, the prickling sensation of pins and needles filling his legs and hands. He grimaced at the odd pain as he moved.
“Fine. But don’t be shocked if you get a surprise during the night,” Jack raised an eyebrow, adopting his breezy tone of voice. “S’all I’m saying.”
Alex attempted to punch Jack, but his makeshift fist gave way instantly, the cold leeching all the strength from them.
“S-shut it, dude and g-get downstairs. I’m f-freezing my arse off h-here.” Smiling, he followed Jack down the stairs, a little more stable on his feet and together, his mind more composed from seeing Jack, his thoughts less likely to drive him insane.
Alex then found himself being smothered in blankets and towels, forced down onto one of the stools at the kitchen counter, another figure having been roused awake and commanded into action. Her face was welcoming, dark hair flowing in thick waves down her back, as she turned from Alex to get more layers. He heard snippets of whispered conversation through the daze that slowed his senses.
“How did he…I don’t understand…you’re friends?…he looks like….some more towels.” The woman’s words were confused and hushed, and Alex didn’t bother to try and listen harder. He bent his head, rounding his shoulders and thought about getting warm.
A pair of arms wrapped around him, a warm body pressed against his cold skin.
“I’m curious. What were you doing out there?” Jack murmured, placing his head close to Alex’s, worry evident in his voice.
“D-didn’t want to go home. Th-thought that I could bide time at the park.” Alex stuttered through the shivers, teeth knocking together fiercely and he craned his head to look up at the other boy, before burying his head into the folds of fabric of his t-shirt.
“You know, you’re going to be the death of me one day.” Jack laughed, tightening his grip. Alex tried to laugh, but instead he sounded like he was choking.
“S-sorry.”
Jack pulled back. “Don’t ever fucking apologise to me. You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”
Alex closed his eyes, concentrating on the warmth that gradually, oh-so painfully slowly returned into his body, flooding in his stomach first and then spreading from his chest. The sound of padded footsteps reached his ears.
“I see you two are close then, Jack.” The woman Alex presumed to be Jack’s mother mused, a smile in her voice.
He felt Jack laugh, chest rising sharply as he replied. Alex could practically feel the smile that graced Jack’s face, his eyes glowing as Alex himself smiled into the boy’s shoulder, slipping further into a weary unconsciousness as his tired eyes slipped closed, fingers intertwined in Jack’s.
“Yeah, he’s a keeper, this one.”
---------