Super Rich Kids (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 23: X's and Woes

Fun? facts:
1. When planning this story with my best friends we agreed that a main character should die.
2. I never planned for this story to have a happy ending.
3. I reconsider numbers 1 & 2 daily.

☆*:.｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

Surely, I was being tested.

And surely I was failing.

I should have known that the long torturous days without hearing from Alexander would lead to the inevitable, but I was naive.

Naive, to think that he loved me, naive to think that we could have ever lasted. Naive because I had so willingly let hope blossom within me, hope for a future. We are young and troubled... I am reckless.

Easily I lost myself in sentiment. I could identify my own sadness. The sadness that lasted days, the sadness that chipped away at my sanity. I was clinging to the hope that he would call me back and assure me that it was all a big mistake. I slept in his shirts and refused to believe that I have become that person.

I refused to believe that that phone call marked the end of us. But as the days ticked by my confidence dwindled.

If I thought I had lost him before... I was wrong. The memories of us were prominent, even more so on my hard days. Little reminders inconvenienced me daily. I would wake up to the sound of his laugh... fleeting memories of his tired smile. And I think, like a defense system, my brain saw it proper to remember every small detail in vivid color and eloquent noise because symphonies and unnamed tunes flowed through my mind.

They aren't songs I know. They are his. His hands memorized movements that mine would never be able to follow. I could never keep up, but I retained so many moments with him. I breathed in every second like my lungs would never meet capacity.  I had an insatiable need for everything related to Alexander, and what once felt like a blessing has turned into a curse.

I think I missed the meaning of a love that's real-- I never captured the essence of what it truly meant to love or be loved. I closed my eyes and imagined that when he did too we were seeing the same things.

But maybe this is how he planned it. When he closed his eyes he was in a whole different place... he saw us drifting apart. He saw us stranded, looking on at parallel sinking ships and an island between us.

More than anything else I feel the disappointment lurking within my veins. I can't understand his reasoning so I burden myself, wondering what I have done to make him want to cut all ties with me.

Maybe he realized I couldn't help him. I couldn't make him happy. I couldn't cure him of whatever plagues his mind.

I wasn't enough.

Or maybe I am just too much for him to manage. My own problems could easily become a burden. I didn't blame him for pushing me away.

I stared blankly at the canvas in front of me. I had finished the last piece for my showcase the day Alexander called me.

It was an exciting day for me. I had been wasting time painting, utilizing every moment we spent apart and working to make him proud.

I knew that that day marked three months of me being clean. I had finally made three months, and I couldn't have done it without his support. I had been so excited to tell him, so happy, covered in paint as I admired my own work. I had never felt so proud and content.

I couldn't have captured an image better... but hanging up with Alexander had challenged my mindset and calm demeanor. Suddenly I had hated the very thing that I had been so proud of. With every fiber in my body I loathed what I had made. Hated myself for the whole showcase, and in a fit of self hatred and unstable actions I shoved the canvas-- watched it teeter on it's easel before hitting the table, knocking over the water buckets of filthy brushes, and falling to the floor in the colorful water.