Where Clover Whitens (Jalex)

Tautology

Human beings suffer

They torture one another,

They get hurt and get hard.

No poem or play or song

Can fully right a wrong

Inflicted and endured.

-Seamus Heaney, "The Cure of Troy"

"Wake up, 'Lex. It's time for your meds."

Jack tiptoed to the side of Alex's guest bed, where his best friend slept. At least, that's what Alex wanted Jack to think. For the past couple of weeks, Alex had been avoiding Jack — as much as possible with the two of them living under one roof. Alex slept most of the time, which was fair, considering that his pain medication tired him out. But when he was awake, he kept his back turned to Jack and closed his eyes when he entered the room. Honestly, the cold shoulder hurt Jack's feelings, but he knew that no part of himself could blame Alex for the behavior. Alex was only doing it because of how Jack had treated him and that was more than fair.

Despite the cold shoulder, Alex had never jumped away from his touch and never seemed afraid around him. Pretty much every piece of media Jack had ever consumed illustrated domestic violence victims as feeble and jumpy, shaking and recoiling every time someone reached out to them. Jack was glad that Alex didn't fear him or seem to be having nightmares about the experience (that he knew of). But he wondered if he was actually processing what had happened. Alex's doctors suggested he go to therapy as soon as possible, but Jack couldn't even get Alex to talk to him, let alone get him to therapy.

Jack gave Alex a gentle shake when he didn't stir, realizing Alex probably was asleep when Jack had come into the room, Alex's guest room, since he couldn't very well climb stairs. Alex's eyes fluttered open and he yawned. At the motion, Jack's heart fluttered with fondness. Alex looked so innocent and cute; Jack could hardly stand it. He fought back a smile as Alex gingerly sat up. His arm was still in its sling, but his nose was no longer in a splint. The bruising and cuts on his face were healing well, too.

Thankfully, Alex's concussion recovery went fast. After a little over a week, Alex's confusion and sensitivity to light was gone and he didn't have to lay in a dark room all the time. Truthfully, at this point, Alex could probably make it on his own and he'd expressed that to Jack more than once, but Jack was in no hurry to go anywhere. The main reason, of course, was because he cared for Alex deeply and wanted to be sure he was okay. The other, more selfish reason, was because he didn't want to go home. He hadn't had a proper conversation with Caitlin since Beau had assaulted Alex. Every few days, she'd text him and ask him if he was coming home yet and he'd reply with a simple "no," to which he did not hear from her again until the next time she asked.

Caitlin was Jack's wife. He was meant to be with her and knew it wasn't normal or healthy, but he was stuck. How was Jack supposed to go back to her after she'd taken Beau's side in the whole fiasco? When she had put her reputation over Alex's wellbeing? How was Jack supposed to even love her after that, especially when she had known of Beau's abusive past and had still not breathed a word of it to Jack when Beau and Alex had begun dating? In fact, she had encouraged the relationship, as if the four of them were going to take on some twisted Lucy and Ricky and Fred and Ethel archetype. It was sick and Jack couldn't help but be disgusted by his wife.

And maybe there was the issue of Jack being maybe, kind of, totally in love with Alex, too. But that was a concern for another time.

Alex sat up and rubbed his eyes, pushing the longer strands out of his face. It had been at least a month since he'd had a haircut and while Jack adored the fluffy little curls of medium brown around Alex's neck, he could tell that the long locks were getting on Alex's nerves. He was also shirtless from sleeping and the combination of that with the sleepy doe eyes and messy bed hair was doing something to Jack's heart.