Stella
Master Post
Would You Trade That Heart of Gold For a Minute in My Skin?
Chapter 7, Stella
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He feels like he's falling into a slippery hole, despite how much he hates that stupid metaphor. He just can't figure out what he's doing with Jack. He likes him so fucking much it hurts, but Jesus. He can't tell if Jack feels the same way. He only comes close to figuring it out when he's at home, alone on the couch, nursing a bottle (or six) of beer.
Alex has called Jack every single night, he sounds like a completely desperate loser, but he honestly doesn't care. Jack's busy, working at night while Alex works during the day. Alex has debated staying up until three so that they can get a late night dinner/early morning breakfast at the Denny's a block from Jack's house. They're not dating (technically?) yet, so he decides to back off after the fourth day.
Zack eventually comes over, nearly breaking down the front door in order to see if his friend is even alive. He takes one look at Alex, who is holding a beer bottle in hand, and slurring every word he speaks. He shoves him back inside the apartment, deciding that he's probably better off alone and drunk than out and digging his own grave with stupidity.
"Jack thinks you're dead," he says simply, watching as Alex drinks himself further. He takes the bottle away from the older boy, frowning and setting it down on the table.
"I called him but he was always busy," Alex slurs, leaning against the couch and closing his eyes, obviously exhausted by the bloodshot look in his eyes. He's been beating himself up over this whole thing.
Alex isn't sure when he falls asleep or when Zack leaves, but he wakes up alone and wrapped in a blanket. His beer bottles are all gone from the table, probably all gone from the fridge too if he knows Zack well enough. He'd get up to check, only to feel his head protest angrily at any movement at all.
He starts crying, unable to contain himself anymore. He wants Jack, he needs him, just to see his face or hear his voice. He's falling off the iceberg at a million miles an hour, into the icy, dark waters below. Into certain death below.
He's falling in love, falling in love with a boy who doesn't even like him back at all. He's a pity friend, the one that everybody hates but never tells them. He can't stop crying into the arm cushion on his couch.
The next time Alex sees Jack is that Saturday at a bar where he's currently buzzed. He brings his drink over to Jack, seeming like a good idea, and sits down next to him. "Hey." He doesn't wait for Jack to acknowledge him first before he talks to him. He's wanted this too bad.
"Hey," Jack says, sounding sad, but Alex doesn't catch onto that. "Zack told me you were pretty bad the other night." Alex waves him off as though it was nothing, "I feel horrible. I want to make it up to you. How about we do something tomorrow night?"
Alex's face splits into a mile wide grin, finally getting that second date that he's been waiting a week for. "I'd love that so fucking much."
The conversation declines afterwards, steadily falling into a blur of words and motions. The first thing Alex realizes the next morning when he wakes up is that he really has to pee. He doesn't know why, but he has to pee more than he usually does in the morning.
He ignores his blasting headache, dashing across the hall to the bathroom. He emerges a minute later, looking at the lump on his couch. He walks over, realizing that it's Jack when he finally sees his face. He frowns, unable to remember anything that's happened last night. The last thing he remembers is that he has a date with Jack today, but he figured that was supposed to happen at night.
He goes into the kitchen to get his ibuprofen, only to find it sitting out on the counter with a tall glass of water next to it. He smiles, taking three tablets and swishing them down with the water. When he puts the glass down, he sees Jack smiling at him.
"How are you doing?" he asks, still wearing the same clothes that he'd had on last night. His hair is tussled, only adding to how incredibly irresistible he looks right now.
"I'm good," Alex replies, smiling back. He realizes that he's wearing his pajama pants. He can't tell if Jack helped him into those last night or not, but he doesn't really mind either way, "Did you do this for me?"
Jack nods with a shy smile, "Yeah. You were so wasted, I couldn't leave you alone."
"Do you want some toast or something? I'd offer more, but I'm a shitty ass cook." Alex offers, motioning around the messy kitchen. It's not horrible, but it's got most of his plates and silverware in the sink rather than in the cupboards.
Jack looks at him, cocking an eyebrow, "I'd sort of like you, but toast is a good second." Alex furrows his eyebrows, half excited, half scared to death. "You sort of told me everything last night. Like, everything." He walks over and hugs Alex, "Trust me, you're not falling in love alone."
Alex has a momentary mental break down before he decides, fuck it, and hugs Jack back.
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A/N: omg. I haven't written in like, a month. Or well, a month as of October 8th, but I didn't let that date hit without putting out something. I have like, a page of a request written. I think it was the one where Alex is with Lisa, but he starts liking Jack during tour instead. So hey, if that's your's, then it's a page of the way done. Other than that, I've spent my time doing homework because my computer broke down. So now we're ordering new parts for it and I'm stuck using one computer for everything, and then another for the internet. It sucks. Whatever. Hopefully I'll get some stuff done next week because it's MEA weekend and thus a 5 day weekend. I have PSATs on Wednesday, but I'm free otherwise. Sweet freedom. And writing.
Would You Trade That Heart of Gold For a Minute in My Skin?
Chapter 7, Stella
------
He feels like he's falling into a slippery hole, despite how much he hates that stupid metaphor. He just can't figure out what he's doing with Jack. He likes him so fucking much it hurts, but Jesus. He can't tell if Jack feels the same way. He only comes close to figuring it out when he's at home, alone on the couch, nursing a bottle (or six) of beer.
Alex has called Jack every single night, he sounds like a completely desperate loser, but he honestly doesn't care. Jack's busy, working at night while Alex works during the day. Alex has debated staying up until three so that they can get a late night dinner/early morning breakfast at the Denny's a block from Jack's house. They're not dating (technically?) yet, so he decides to back off after the fourth day.
Zack eventually comes over, nearly breaking down the front door in order to see if his friend is even alive. He takes one look at Alex, who is holding a beer bottle in hand, and slurring every word he speaks. He shoves him back inside the apartment, deciding that he's probably better off alone and drunk than out and digging his own grave with stupidity.
"Jack thinks you're dead," he says simply, watching as Alex drinks himself further. He takes the bottle away from the older boy, frowning and setting it down on the table.
"I called him but he was always busy," Alex slurs, leaning against the couch and closing his eyes, obviously exhausted by the bloodshot look in his eyes. He's been beating himself up over this whole thing.
Alex isn't sure when he falls asleep or when Zack leaves, but he wakes up alone and wrapped in a blanket. His beer bottles are all gone from the table, probably all gone from the fridge too if he knows Zack well enough. He'd get up to check, only to feel his head protest angrily at any movement at all.
He starts crying, unable to contain himself anymore. He wants Jack, he needs him, just to see his face or hear his voice. He's falling off the iceberg at a million miles an hour, into the icy, dark waters below. Into certain death below.
He's falling in love, falling in love with a boy who doesn't even like him back at all. He's a pity friend, the one that everybody hates but never tells them. He can't stop crying into the arm cushion on his couch.
The next time Alex sees Jack is that Saturday at a bar where he's currently buzzed. He brings his drink over to Jack, seeming like a good idea, and sits down next to him. "Hey." He doesn't wait for Jack to acknowledge him first before he talks to him. He's wanted this too bad.
"Hey," Jack says, sounding sad, but Alex doesn't catch onto that. "Zack told me you were pretty bad the other night." Alex waves him off as though it was nothing, "I feel horrible. I want to make it up to you. How about we do something tomorrow night?"
Alex's face splits into a mile wide grin, finally getting that second date that he's been waiting a week for. "I'd love that so fucking much."
The conversation declines afterwards, steadily falling into a blur of words and motions. The first thing Alex realizes the next morning when he wakes up is that he really has to pee. He doesn't know why, but he has to pee more than he usually does in the morning.
He ignores his blasting headache, dashing across the hall to the bathroom. He emerges a minute later, looking at the lump on his couch. He walks over, realizing that it's Jack when he finally sees his face. He frowns, unable to remember anything that's happened last night. The last thing he remembers is that he has a date with Jack today, but he figured that was supposed to happen at night.
He goes into the kitchen to get his ibuprofen, only to find it sitting out on the counter with a tall glass of water next to it. He smiles, taking three tablets and swishing them down with the water. When he puts the glass down, he sees Jack smiling at him.
"How are you doing?" he asks, still wearing the same clothes that he'd had on last night. His hair is tussled, only adding to how incredibly irresistible he looks right now.
"I'm good," Alex replies, smiling back. He realizes that he's wearing his pajama pants. He can't tell if Jack helped him into those last night or not, but he doesn't really mind either way, "Did you do this for me?"
Jack nods with a shy smile, "Yeah. You were so wasted, I couldn't leave you alone."
"Do you want some toast or something? I'd offer more, but I'm a shitty ass cook." Alex offers, motioning around the messy kitchen. It's not horrible, but it's got most of his plates and silverware in the sink rather than in the cupboards.
Jack looks at him, cocking an eyebrow, "I'd sort of like you, but toast is a good second." Alex furrows his eyebrows, half excited, half scared to death. "You sort of told me everything last night. Like, everything." He walks over and hugs Alex, "Trust me, you're not falling in love alone."
Alex has a momentary mental break down before he decides, fuck it, and hugs Jack back.
-----
A/N: omg. I haven't written in like, a month. Or well, a month as of October 8th, but I didn't let that date hit without putting out something. I have like, a page of a request written. I think it was the one where Alex is with Lisa, but he starts liking Jack during tour instead. So hey, if that's your's, then it's a page of the way done. Other than that, I've spent my time doing homework because my computer broke down. So now we're ordering new parts for it and I'm stuck using one computer for everything, and then another for the internet. It sucks. Whatever. Hopefully I'll get some stuff done next week because it's MEA weekend and thus a 5 day weekend. I have PSATs on Wednesday, but I'm free otherwise. Sweet freedom. And writing.