Short, Short Stories

Alexithymia

Alexithymia
(n.) the inability to express your feelings

"Fuck. How am I supposed to be sane in this situation?"

Xavier questioned himself, frustratedly staring at the glowing phone screen. "Javier this, Javier that" was all that Evan mentioned in their texts. He knew he had no right to be angry at Evan, as he knew he wasn't the type to share things so easily about himself. Perhaps the same could be said about Xavier. It had become a lot more awkward living in the same house as his current AND ex-boyfriend, and he could feel the thick tension in the air whenever he was in the same room as Eunnie. Whatever. He was going to deal with these problems when the time came. But for now, he had to focus on Evan.

It had been Andrea's idea to spike Evan's drink, just to see how he acted when he was drunk. Xavier wasn't against it, as he was curious too. God, what a mistake that was. Maybe that's why they say curiosity kills the cat.

He'd purse his lips, biting them until they were on the verge of bleeding. Staring at his recent texts to Evander, he didn't know if he should even go to his room or not. Over text, he'd cave in, replying with a simple "fine.", but outside of social media? He was the complete opposite. He was seething in anger. Why though? He didn't have the right to be angry, anyway. Taking an unsteady breath in, he'd push himself off the bed and make his way to Evan's room next door. Knocking, he'd ask flatly:

"Evander, are you there?"

...

Evander's head throbbed as he lay in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. His Friday night had gone wrong after a stupid prank was done on him. His vision became ever more blurred with the alcohol in his system. He could smell the vodka he drank from his breath. He hated it. He hadn't drunk alcohol since.. That time.

Back when he was still Evander Lee, the delinquent, the resident troublemaker, the fucked up teenager.

He'd make the mistake of calling Xavier by a name of his past. Javier. His ex-fling, the boy from boarding school he never got to date, the boy he never realized his feelings for until it was too late, and perhaps a love story that ended before it could even begin. It had been a while since that name escaped from his thoughts to his lips. He thought his feelings were buried deep—locked away from his conscious, never to meet the light of day again. But yet, here they were, resurfacing faster than Evander could realize.

The sharp knock on Evander's door would snap him out of his daze as he'd sit up, feeling the room spinning as he'd attempt to straighten himself up. The alcohol in his system, along with his current emotional turmoil, was fucking him up big time.

Slowly, he got up, fumbling to slide on his sippers before answering the door. Stumbling to the doorknob, he'd turn it slowly to open the door.

There stood Xavier. Of course, it was Xavier. Evander had practically begged Xavier to come to him—to see him, to hold him, to explain everything to him. He needed to be with Xavier right now, apologize to him.

"Xavier.. you came.."  He slurred as he fell forward into the latter's arms. He couldn't care if anyone caught them. He was too buzzed to care. It would be a problem for sober Evander, not drunk Evander.

...

Catching the drunk Evander, Xavier would grit his teeth in frustration. Sure, this rare sight of Evan was something he wanted to see, but after reading his texts? It hurt him more than he was showing right now. He couldn't understand why his heart felt tight and heavy. Yes, it hurt suddenly finding out about your boyfriend's ex-fling from a drunk text, but in a way, Xavier couldn't get himself to own up to his feelings, especially since he had secrets of his own.