Where Clover Whitens (Jalex)

Enjambment

I remember you with my soul clenched

in that sadness of mine that you know.

Where were you then?

Who else was there?

Saying what?

Why will the whole of love come to me suddenly

when I am sad and feel you are far away?

-Pablo Neruda, "Clenched Soul"

The traffic lights looked blurry around the edges like Alex had astigmatism. He felt like he was running on autopilot, essentially disassociating the entire drive. Still dressed in his hangover clothes, a hoodie, and straight-legged joggers, he felt self-conscious. It was good to worry about his appearance, though, because otherwise, he was going to worry about what he was about to do and how it could change his entire life as he knew it. His friendship with Jack had always been like walking on a tightrope. Everything was fine if he stuck to the routine that he had practiced for over a decade, so he never even considered straying from that. One tiny, false move could result in him plummeting to his death. And Alex was much happier being hundreds of feet in the air because years of practice kept him alive; whereas plummeting to the ground left him uncertain and more than likely meeting his demise.

Jack's apartment wasn't too far. Part of the reason that Alex had chosen to rent the little house he'd been staying at was due to its proximity to Jack. He needed to be close to him, but not too close, not close enough for anyone (besides Zack, apparently) to get suspicious. Not close enough for Alex to run into Jack and Cailtin. Seeing her hang off of Jack's arm and run her fingers through his hair and steal kisses from him made Alex want to vomit, much like he'd vomited on the night of the bachelor party. Alex tried to look away as much as possible when these things happened. He couldn't let Jack get suspicious.

Alex sat in the parking lot of Jack's building for thirty minutes before he finally worked up the nerve to go inside. He tried hard to not think of all the possible scenarios in which his life completely imploded around him. The most likely situation included Jack taking pity on him, telling him that everything was okay, but that he didn't feel the same way. That would hurt, of course, but the pity. Alex didn't think that he could handle Jack pitying him. He didn't want his best friend feeling sorry for him; he couldn't imagine a circumstance more humiliating. Well, besides the second one that he considered, which was Jack being disgusted and kicking Alex out of the band. Alex doubted that Rian, nor Zack especially, would let that happen, but Jack looking at him with revulsion wasn't something that Alex believed he could take. Maybe he could take that better than Jack being angry at him for waiting until days before the wedding and punching him. Alex also doubted that Jack would ever violently put his hands on him, but he also really had no clue as to how he would react. He didn't dare allow himself to even hope that Jack might feel the same way.

You've never once discussed this with him. Zack's words rang in his ears, again and again. You have no way of knowing how he'd feel.
That was what scared Alex so badly.

Once he was outside of Jack's door, he took a giant breath. He felt like his chest was about to cave in, like an anvil had been dropped directly on his ribcage, like on the cartoons he'd seen as a child. His hands were numb but shaking, his fingers trembling as they reached the doorbell. Alex's heart hammered with every footstep he heard from the inside of Jack's apartment.

Then, he panicked. What the fuck was he thinking? What the fuck was he doing? What if Caitlin was here? What if she wasn't and then arrived home during a penultimate moment? What if she wasn't home and didn't come home, but Jack hit him or threw him out? What if? What if? What if? His throat was filling with bile again and his chest felt like a busted punching bag. And what the fuck? Were those tears in his eyes? Now was so not the time to fucking cry.