Drowning in a River of Denial (Jalex)

I'm Lost Without You

Hello!! This is v short sorry. Dedicated to tinyreneeee bc your comment made me really happy.

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Alex

I leaned against Jack’s locker, my bag supporting my weight. It was an exhausting day—primarily because of all the homework I’d missed out on. My teachers were pretty lenient, thankfully—excluding my design teacher, who decided I’d have to hand up my form fitting assignment on Friday week. 

I was feeling pretty okay, despite my endless worrying about Jack. But that was nothing new—I was always worrying about him. I was hoping to talk with him about what happened at Tom’s house; when he told me he couldn’t do whatever it was we were doing anymore—but I completely forgot upon seeing the dark bruise that pigmented his skin. It seemed as though he’d forgotten too. I pushed the thought aside, deciding I’d rather not even think about it.

As I waited for him to finish class, I thought about the previous night. Tom decided he’d drop me home at four in the afternoon the day before, telling me that I needed to sort out my problems and go to school. I supposed he’d had enough of me when him and Jenna couldn’t catch a moment alone without me whinging about the music channel being filled with undesirable songs.

So, I’d ended up opening the door at about five thirty, and we talked things through. My Dad acted sorry, and I forgave him, but I still resented him for what he’d said. He kept trying to make it up to me by making me food and getting me drinks—but it really didn’t change much. My Mum, on the other hand, was just happy I was back. She said Tom texted her when I got there, telling her I needed time. She accepted this, and I was grateful for her being so calm about it, and for Tom letting her know I was okay.

I felt almost content with the way things were turning out—excluding what was happening with Jack, who had just showed up beside me. Rather than opening his locker, he leaned forward until his head was on door in front of him. He rolled his head slightly, until the side of his face was pressed against it. He did the same thing in the morning, I noted.

“What are you doing?” I murmured, a confused smile threatening to grace my lips. He groaned in response and leaned back, his tired eyes meeting mine.

“Nothing,” He then twisted the numbers on his combination lock, until they aligned to 2343. His bag was on the bottom shelf, whereas mine was on the top usually. His books he’d used during the day were piled on top, and he grabbed a red one and slid it into his bag, pulling it off the shelf and dropping it to the ground with a loud thud. He slammed the door shut, locking it and jumbling the numbers.

I watched him in interest, noticing the way his eyes blinked slowly and his hands moved lazily. Actually, his whole body seemed to be stuck in slow motion. We walked out the building, and I had to match my pace to his significantly slow one.

His green-blue tinted thumbs hooked underneath the grey bag straps, and I let out a chuckle,

“It looks like you were doing something dirty with Shrek,” I commented, glancing over at him. He laughed loudly and replied,

“Not in my swamp, Donkey,”

-

I sat cross legged on my bed, my laptop resting on my lap. Jack sat across from me, humming along to Simple Plan as it played softly in the background. I glanced up from my screen, noticing how his eyes looked almost vacant, and darker than usual. I wanted to ask him if there was something wrong, but it was so calm, and I didn’t want to break the comfortable silence. So I didn’t ask.