(no subject)
Title: A Vacation From Reality [2/3]
Author: riku_aura777
Pairing: Jalex
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own them.
Summary: And that was the question Alex had been wrestling with since he was sixteen. Now someone was actually forcing him to confront it.
Notes: Decided to make this into three parts instead of two.
Alex stayed in the hotel room for six days. In that time, his mother had called seemingly dozens of times daily. Rian had called everyday as well, once or twice. Zack even called a couple times, mostly in the last couple days.
Jack never called, not even to let him know he arrived home safely. But maybe Alex didn’t have the right to expect that.
He tried calling him three days ago, hoping to talk, but found out that the number no longer worked. Jack had changed his number at some point during his time back, and that made Alex feel shitty, because, in an effort to make everything about him, he hated that Jack was avoiding him. Being on opposite ends of the country helped that enough all ready.
On the morning of the seventh day, Alex rented an apartment. After all, he couldn’t live in a hotel forever, he needed something more… permanent. The landlord allowed him to move in immediately after paying the rent for the first two months, meaning he had to be there for the following sixty days. Well, he didn’t have to, but he wouldn’t get the money back.
It had one bedroom, a small bathroom, and a fairly good size kitchen and living room. Considering it was also fully furnished, it was quite expensive, but that was okay. Alex had quite a bit of money on him, plus he had some in the bank. He knew he could borrow some from his parents if he became desperate, but if it ever got to that point, he’d probably get a job before asking them.
Since he only had one large bag, it took hardly any time to officially “move in.” The realization struck him after he had everything put away in his bedroom; he left his guitar back in Baltimore. When Jack was with him, Alex hadn’t thought about it. But now, trapped in an apartment surrounded by strangers, he missed music.
He had given up Jack, music, everything. Hopefully it was worth it.
--
After a week of consistent nagging via text messages, Alex eventually acquired Jack’s new cell phone number from Rian. Only under the guarantee that Alex would keep in touch, proving that Rian was one of the best friends he could possibly have.
Not to say that Zack wasn’t. No, Zack was great in the way of not questioning why he was in California. He was the only one who didn’t ask. Instead, he asked about California, small details that Alex had yet to discover about the place. Even though he didn’t have many of the answers, he needed the conversation, and appreciated the fact that Zack simply understood.
Sitting on the couch, Alex held the phone in his palm, trying to figure out what to say. He couldn’t call Jack, that much was obvious. But sending a text message that contained a simple ‘Hello’ didn’t seem right either.
Following five minutes of debating with himself over what to say, Alex dropped the phone after it suddenly began vibrating. Picking it up once it stopped, he noticed that he had a new message. Hesitantly, he opened it, not at all shocked to see that it was from Jack. It was a simple, Rian said he gave you my number.
Confirming that seemed pointless, so Alex decided to ask, What are you doing?
Minutes later, he received a reply of, Watching Home Alone, and Alex smiled, because it was just so Jack that he wanted to cry.
But he couldn’t cry, not over that, because it was his decision to send Jack back home. No one else was to blame for that. He then asked, It’s on TV?
Receiving the affirmative, Alex reached over for the remote, prepared to search for Jack’s favorite movie. But then, with remote in hand, he stopped. It occurred to him that he was three hours behind Jack, meaning the movie wouldn’t be on. Then Alex realized it was after midnight in Maryland. He wondered, Why are you still up?
Can’t sleep was the response, and Alex could almost hear Jack saying it, adding an eye roll after having to state the obvious.
Alex asked him why he couldn’t, lying down on the couch, awaiting an answer. Twenty minutes went by, and he felt himself dozing off. With no reply from Jack, he tried to reassure himself that he might’ve all ready gone to bed. Alex fell asleep shortly after, but that didn’t alleviate the guilt.
--
It took Jack five months to finally ask, When are you coming home? Alex was sitting in his kitchen when he read the message, eating instant ramen.
The question was sudden and saying that he didn’t know felt useless. Rather than send his useless answer, Alex sent his own question. Why?
There was a gap between messages, allowing Alex to finish his mean, if ramen could be considered a meal, and he didn’t even feel nervous. They had settled into a pattern with their non-verbal conversations; sometimes Jack would go minutes without sending anything. That apprehensive feeling he didn’t have started forming when he read Jack’s message that arrived moments later. You put the band on hold. I can’t put my life on hold too. If you’re staying, I need to be doing something.
There was no outward reaction; no slamming his fist on the table, no yelling or screaming, not even pressing down too hard on the buttons as he wrote his reply. But Alex could feel selfish venom spilling into his words, and whether Jack detected it or not, it was there. What would you do Jack? Get a job? Go to college? Either of those things meant moving on, believing that he wasn’t coming back, and Alex couldn’t accept that Jack would just give up.
Not sure yet. But I’m not sitting around home everyday anymore.
Expecting Jack to patiently wait for his return was too much, but Alex had done it anyway. He ended the conversation there, allowing Jack to resume his life without him with no interruptions.
--
Having a fake i.d. had never been more helpful, Alex decided one night in October, as he observed the people in the club. The music was blaring loudly, so loud that it drowned out the words, and after finishing his sixth beer, he wanted to dance. The only problem was that there was nothing more pathetic than dancing alone.
Coincidently, a girl strolled up to him. She was tall with short brunette hair and a smile that looked too big for her face. She introduced herself, but Alex couldn’t hear her-Kelly, Katie, something that wasn’t Jack-and asked if he wanted another drink. He wanted to dance though, but who was he to turn down an offer like that?
She was talkative, not annoyingly so, and divulged basic information about herself, but as the night progressed, Alex began forgetting the little details and continued missing his cues to nod at the appropriate times. She seemed to notice and, finally, asked him to dance.
Accepting, they migrated to where the other dancers were. The music was pulsating, pounding into Alex’s skull and for a moment, he forgot about everything, forgot that both Jack and Rian were enrolled in college now and that Zack was working a part-time job somewhere. For a moment, that had no relevance and Alex was just as untouchable as he dreamed of being.
Once that moment eventually ended, the rest of the night passed by in a whirlwind, which stopped nine hours later, with Alex waking up in his own apartment, naked and alone with a raging headache, and it wasn’t hard to put the pieces together. Forcing his tired body out of bed, he sluggishly got dressed and walked into the kitchen. A cup of coffee, probably bought from the place down the street, was on the table with a note attached to it.
It was too silent in the apartment, so Alex quietly read the note aloud, “Thanks for last night, had an amazing time. Maybe I’ll see you around? Kathy.” Sighing, he tossed the note back onto the table. Do one-night stands typically see each other again? That seemed to defeat the purpose of having one.
Shrugging, he took a drink of the coffee, grimacing as he swallowed. He hated lattés.
--
Alex celebrated his twentieth birthday by getting a job. It wasn’t much, just a job as a server in a remote café. However, it did get him out of the apartment and among people five days a week, plus gave him a steady, albeit small, income, so it wasn’t pointless to have.
The place was called the Artist’s Café, although Alex didn’t know why. It hardly attracted any artists and there weren’t many pieces of art hanging on the walls; only two cheesy landscapes could be seen. The walls themselves, however, were painted four different shades of green, making it appear gaudy rather than artsy. Basically, it was an eccentric place that reeled in eccentric people, and Alex sometimes managed to feel like the most normal person in there.
Completing his first two weeks successfully, he texted Jack about his new job. Almost immediately, Jack replied with, Living the dream, huh?
When the words were finally absorbed, Jack’s sarcastic tone and everything, Alex had never been so pissed off at himself before in his life.
--
In April, a year after arriving in San Diego, Alex bought a notebook, the kind that held onto the paper with a vice-like grip and refused to be torn apart. He didn’t work that day, choosing to isolate himself in his apartment. Even after living there for a year, he never acknowledged it as being home.
It had also been a year since he had tried writing a song. The long period of not writing showed in his first attempt, because all he could write was ‘I miss you’ and ‘I’m sorry.’ And those words wouldn’t work because he all ready had a song that went something like that, he couldn’t have another one, no matter how true the words were.
What if, by neglecting his way with words, he had totally burned out the skill? What if the last year had left him wordless? That thought left Alex scared, because writing was something he needed, and then a miracle occurred: his cell phone vibrated. The only difference was that Jack was actually calling him.
Alex picked up with a nervous, “Hello?” because he hadn’t spoken to Jack in a year.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Jack casually asked.
Quietly releasing a sigh of relief, he answered, “I think I have writer’s block.”
Jack chuckled, replying, “Sorry to hear that.” Alex smiled, because he genuinely sounded apologetic and knowing that Jack still talked to him with something resembling kindness made 2008 actually seem like a good year.
Alex asked about the college experience and Jack laughed again, explaining different experiences and sharing stories, and Alex stopped hearing the words. He only heard Jack’s voice and reveled in the fact that they weren’t talking to each other like they were strangers. But the positive, optimistic feeling gradually faded, knowing that, maybe, they were strangers, in a way; the guilt returned in full force, realizing that he wasn’t there to witness those stories that Jack spoke so fondly about, or to have the ones they would’ve if they had been in All Time Low right then. More importantly, they missed out on the experiences they would’ve had together if they were actually together.
“Alex? You still there?” Jack asked, sounding concerned.
“Yeah, I, uh, I’m still here.”
When Jack asked if something was wrong, Alex felt increasingly worse, and he confessed, “I slept with someone.” He did feel horrible, even if he didn’t know why. After all, how could you cheat on someone you weren’t even with?
Jack’s silence didn’t make Alex feel any better, but before he could say anything, he heard, “When’d that happen?”
Mentally reciting the months, he answered, “Six months ago.”
“Hey, Alex, I have a paper to write, I have to go.”
Holding back a sigh, Alex quickly said, “Okay, bye.” Hanging up, he couldn’t figure out what was worse: not having the chance to apologize or knowing that they would both act like the conversation never happened.
--
Seven months later, Alex finally caved and told Jack that he missed him. Not that it took him over eighteen months to miss him, but it was hard to admit, especially when Jack’s reply came, asking him to come back home.
California didn’t feel like home, but neither did Maryland. Home was supposed to be perfect, ideal, and happy. So why didn’t Alex feel that way? He couldn’t find that special place, and he couldn’t return until he did.
Unable to properly answer, he asked Jack, Do you miss me? Maybe it was wrong, but Alex really wanted to know, and he hoped Jack did, because he hadn’t talked to his mom or anyone in a couple months, so no one had said that to him in awhile.
An hour crawled by and there was no message from Jack. For the first time in over eighteen months, Alex cried. Not the kind of crying with wrenching, painful sobs, but the kind with quiet, hiccupping ones with a steady stream of tears. The worse part was that he didn’t even feel any better once he managed to calm down. He just felt lonely.
Rubbing his eyes roughly, Alex abandoned his phone and grabbed his car keys. He still had the same car, although he hadn’t driven it lately; everywhere he went was within walking distance. As soon as he got on the road, everything reminded him of Jack. The feeling intensified when, six hours later, he crossed over into Nevada.
Noticing this, he pulled over, exhausted. Leaning against the steering wheel, he sighed. A question repeated itself over and over inside his head: what was wrong with him? Unfortunately, Alex had no answer.
The sun was going down, and Alex couldn’t stay. He had to get back to his apartment, Nevada had too many memories. Or, rather, one significant memory.
It was late when he got back. The fact that he had to go to work in the next eight hours didn’t help either. However, the one unread message Alex saw on his phone, containing a simple, I do from Jack, made it a little easier to breathe.
--
2008 turned into 2009, and Alex still worked at the same café. All was normal one day in February, until a woman walked in, tall, brunette, possessing an obvious baby bump and a wide, white smile. He vaguely recognized her, but when she said his name happily, hugging him like he was an old friend, Alex realized that one-night stands could occasionally see each other again.
“I always remember names and faces,” she said, sitting down at the closest table. “Helps with my job.”
He couldn’t remember what Kathy did for a living, but Alex nodded like he did. At the moment, he was on his break, so he accepted her request to sit down and catch up.
Like the last time they saw each other, she quickly made conversation, revealing that she was engaged and five months pregnant. She was still working-Alex rediscovered that she was a nurse-and she had, for the first few weeks following their night together, thought about stopping by his place again.
“It just didn’t feel right,” she concluded, taking a sip of her water.
“Why not?” Alex asked, confused. Some details of that night were foggy, given it had been almost been a year and a half since then.
“Oh, just because of some things you said that night.” Pausing, she laughed. “Don’t remember? It’s okay, you were really out of it.”
Shaking his head, he questioned, “What did I do?”
Casually, she admitted, “Well, you said you were all ready with someone else.”
Almost choking on his drink, Alex coughed loudly. But Kathy continued, “Well, that you wanted to be with someone else. Are you with her now?”
Finally able to breathe, Alex explained, “No… no I’m not with… with him.”
He could tell that she was taken aback, but she recovered with a smile. “So, what happened? Do you love him?”
And that was the question Alex had been wrestling with since he was sixteen. Now someone was actually forcing him to confront it. “I… I think so. But I don’t deserve him.”
Finishing the rest of her water, Kathy interjected, “Don’t say that! I mean, Alex, I don’t know you well, but you seem nice. And you talked about him like he was the best person on the planet. Now, does he know you love him?”
Hearing her talk about his high regard for Jack made Alex smile, and maybe that meant he really did love him. “No, I haven’t. He’s back in Maryland. Besides, I wouldn’t know what to say to him, anyway.”
He had no idea if Kathy knew he was from Maryland, but she nodded. “You should tell him, Alex. He might surprise you.” Looking at her watch, she gasped. “Shit, I need to go. Appointment for the baby, sorry.”
Alex apologized for keeping her, but she waved it off, hugging him once more and wishing him good luck. He watched her leave, treasuring her almost sisterly advice. It had been years since he had someone looking out for him in a sibling manner. He had forgotten how much he missed it.
--
In July, more than two years after living in California, Alex sent Jack a simple message. You seen The Hangover yet?
It was late, and Jack was even taking a summer class, but Alex figured it wouldn’t be too late to ask. Minutes later, he received, For the third time, not yet.
Go see it, it’s hilarious, Alex sent, yawning.
He frowned when he received Jack’s reply of I can’t, I’m busy. Sighing, he laid down on his bed, fully dressed. He wouldn’t distract Jack anymore, opting to try to sleep. Falling into a light doze, it was disrupted when his phone went off an hour later. Do you still think about heaven and hell?
Even though he hadn’t recently, Alex answered Sometimes, because the thought occasionally came back. Before Jack could respond, Alex also sent, Do you still believe in them?
After reading Jack’s text, which said that he still did, Alex sighed again. Now that they weren’t talking about it in person, it was less challenging. And now, maybe he could ask his real question without being judged, even though, deep down, he knew Jack never would. Alex couldn’t explain the fear, he simply couldn’t, but it existed. It lingered in the back of his mind, never banished. Do you think I’m going to hell?
It took ten minutes for Jack to answer, and the message only said no. How did it take so long to write so little? Why not? Alex was sitting up now, on edge, like a lead weight had settled itself in his chest.
The next reply, however, came immediately. Five words, that’s all it took to relieve the pressure building in his lungs. Five words for Alex to finally, finally, realize that he couldn’t find what he needed in California; he was back home in Maryland.
Because I won't let you.