Where Clover Whitens (Jalex)

Zeugma

I thought your violence made me good. I thought

your desire made me beautiful though the signs

chirping wanted all had your face. Maybe you've named

me innocent after living so long in my mouth.

-Claire Schwartz, "Where I Eat"

It seemed utterly pointless to breathe a word on the way back to Beau's house. Alex wanted to go home, but Beau was already visibly seething: jaw clenched tight, fingers white-knuckled, choking the steering wheel, stormy blue eyes fixated on the freeway. If he said that he didn't want to go back to Beverly Hills, Beau was sure to dump him right then and there.

Maybe he was being dramatic, but Alex had never seen Beau this upset before. Beau was the most thoughtful, sweetest person he'd ever met, but he also had a short fuse. When he was angry, he blew up quickly, but he got over things quickly, too. However, Alex had never seen this slow-burn fury in his boyfriend before.

The radio was turned off and the only sounds were that of Beau's silver Bentley. It seemed like Beau wasn't even breathing, which made Alex afraid of breathing too loud. He wasn't afraid of Beau, but he hated confrontation, and breaking the silence seemed dangerous. Besides, he didn't feel like talking. His head was pounding and while his stomach didn't hurt like it had before, he was still nauseous. All Alex wanted was to rip off his suit, crawl deep underneath the covers of his bed, and sleep for as long as humanly possible, maybe pull a Rip Van Winkle.

The drive from Burbank to Beverly Hills was only about fourteen miles, but the traffic was heavy that day and forty-five minutes of sheer quietude was beyond unnerving. Still, as anxious as he was about Beau and how the other man was feeling, he couldn't help his mind from drifting back to Jack. What was going to happen now? Would they go back to how they had been after the wedding? Was Jack done with him for good this time? And if so, was that fair? Possibly, but Jack wasn't innocent. Alex knew that some of the blame had to fall on himself, but he hadn't done any of this on his own. If Jack was really done with him this time, was their friendship over, too? Was the band over? Surely not. Alex couldn't help but fear that, though. Maybe Jack, Zack, and Rian would find a replacement for him. Maybe they would just call it quits, period. When all was said and done, Alex wasn't sure that there was any real benefit to being frank about his feelings with Jack.

The car lurched to a stop, making Alex jump and look up. They were back at Beau's house. A sick feeling came over him and he stared down at his lap. For some reason, he didn't want to get out of the car. His seatbelt stayed buckled, feet stayed planted on the floorboard.

"We're home," Beau said icily, and the sick feeling grew stronger. Shakily, Alex unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door. The warm air and the dankness in Beau's garage made his headache worse. He walked as slowly as possible, watching Beau open the entrance to the house. He didn't even wait for Alex like he usually did, he just stalked on through.

Alex brought his thumb to his lips and began to gnaw on the nail. He wasn't a nail-biter, but anxiety made him feel like he was vibrating and he needed to do something with the energy. He dragged his feet to the entrance and used his free hand to shut the door. His fingers itched to grab the doorknob, turn tail, and run until his lungs gave out. But God, where was this fear coming from? Beau was so sweet. Yes, he got irritated and passive-aggressive sometimes, but he wasn't violent and it wasn't like he yelled at Alex all the time. It was probably just leftover anxiety from the party. Some days, it took Alex longer to calm down than others.

Beau was pacing in his sprawling kitchen, hastily sipping a glass of what appeared to be water. Alex could tell by his hunched shoulders and clenched jaw that he was still annoyed. Torn between speaking to make his presence known and sneaking off to the bathroom, Alex stood anxiously, his stomach churning.