Smile On His Lips and Cuts On His Hips (Jalex)

Thirty - Is That Blood?

If I was not in class or sleeping, there was a constant background track of music playing during my life. I even frequently complied to the supposed manners of having one ear bud in and softly playing songs while I talked to people, the ceaseless music serving to settle the nerves perpetually shaking my bones.

Luckily, I was not alone in this inclination, either Alex or I always pulling out an MP3 player or sliding a CD into a radio whenever we were together, helping me realize the dreams that I'd never let myself entertain of making out with a cute boy to pop-punk.

Alex, much as I liked him, had the occasional tendency to be a bossy dick, and never failed to express his discontent and project shame on me when he found something he disapproved of in my extensive music collection. There was still lots of old shit from years ago that I stubbornly refused to delete for those occasional moment when aged songs would come up on shuffle and I'd smile softly as I got thrown into a reminiscent state and remembered the days in which I'd loved that music. Sure, maybe some of the artists taking up residence in my iPod were crappy and I couldn't actually remember the last time I'd desired to listen to about two hundred of my songs, but music holds more sentiment than anything else, and that wasn't something I'd willingly toss out.

After grumbling and groaning while scrolling through the bands on my phone, Alex had made an adorably content noise when he found something he liked, Everlong playing through my room and bouncing off the walls a moment later as I laughed quietly and rolled my eyes. I could never quite decide if that boy's silly actions were stupid or cute. He had yet to stop reminding me of a puppy who chased its own wagging tail into a wall, but who doesn't love dogs?

It took me approximately a week and two hundred repetitions of My Songs Know What You Did In The Dark to begin listening to anything else again, eventually venturing back into the rest of my music after getting over the opening excitement of Fall Out Boy's reunion. Currently, I was perfectly pleased to hear something that wasn't sung by Patrick Stump, having let my renewed obsession with his band lessen somewhat. I was still prepared to sell the most of my possesions for tickets to their new tour, though. 

Apparently, it had been reaching the Foo Fighters section that caused Alex's happy squeal, as Everlong eventually switched to All My Life, and I was currently rearranging the pillows propping my back up against the wall behind my bed, quietly humming along to Arlandria. I'd grinned and mouthed great song to myself when the opening chords rang out, mind spinning to focus on the caramel brunette sitting cross-legged on my fluffy comforter, back hunched with a curve that would positively lead to painful sounding cracks, chewing on the end of his pen while riddling out a science assignment as he squinted through the blond streak that had fallen into his eyes. Alex never bothered to tuck his unruly locks back, instead letting his perfectly messy hair flop wherever it wanted and dealing with the consequences.

He'd been whining at his paper for the last half hour, occasionally turning to look at me with pleading gold eyes, silently begging for a break and distraction. I would have loved to help, but we had different science classes and I was about as useful at explaining the subject as a caveman, so I declined offering assistance. And I'd ignored the look-transmitted appeals to give up on homework because I'd been trying to suffer through my own A-PUSH assignment without killing myself or anyone else, figuring that it was better to get over with now rather than later. After what felt like my entire life repeated and was probably only actually a little over an hour, I was done, smashing the sheets into my binder and ecstatically chucking it across the room, giggling and smacking his hand away when Alex poked at my side in retaliation for almost hitting him in the head with the office supply projectile.

For once in my school career, I'd finished all the work due the next day early, and was left with nothing to do. Normally, this would have me curling around a fuzzy blanket and sinking into a chair with my beaten laptop or a good book to waste away the rest of the dragging day by trying to be distract myself myself . Or, like, use the very willing, extremely hot boy with me to my advantage and kiss him senseless in order to shut off my head. But he was scribbling across the page and gnawing on the end of his pen with those perfectly plump lips, and I didn't have the heart to pull Alex out of his focus simply to satisfy me.