Intentional But Unbelievable (Jalex)

I'm Damned

Alex's POV

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I was really upset, and could feel my anxiety coming on. I didn't hate him, why hadn't I told him that? Why had I been upset with him? I liked Jack, yes, but that didn't change the fact that he'd lied to me. I felt guilty for being upset ad anxious because I'd really hurt him. He'd admitted to me dozens of times that he really and deeply cared for me and didn't want to lose me. I began to pace back and forth along the wood floor of my room, careful to avoid the glass. The glass. I really should clean that up. I thought to myself as I went to go get the small broom and dust pan from the think cleaning closet, I took my time cleaning because it distracted me from the rapid beating of my heart.

I didn't realize that I'd been crying until a tear hit my wrist. I wiped at my eyes uselessly. I missed him. I could feel the ache to see him or just talk to him. The more I let myself think about it, the fact that J was Jack was really obvious. He was the only guy I knew who'd laugh at every dick joke, no matter how corny, he was the only guy who'd been in my room enough times to know where I 'd kept the spare key. and was dorky enough to actually own an Adventure Time throw blanket. I threw away the shards of glass and went back to my room. My bedspread was still rumpled from where Jack had been laying on it. I wondered briefly where he'd gone. I slid my phone out of my pocket and was about to call him, when I realized that I was still a bit upset and angry with him. But we should be able to talk through this like adults.  I thought to myself. No, I was too emotional about it to be adult-like. Then it hit me.

I'd probably made Jack cry, again. Oh, God, that made my stomach drop and my heart beat even faster. Jack always knew how to calm me down. But he wasn't around because I'd made him feel like shit. I groaned, why couldn't I just call him and stop being a little, middle-school  girl about this? I wanted to throw something, just to make a noise. My phone rang and I grinned, pulling it out of my pocket again and answering it.

"Hello? Ja-" I said before the voice on the other line spoke.

"Hey, sweetheart, how're you?"" My mom asked me. That's right, I hadn't called her in weeks.

"God and you?" I told her. I laid down on my bed, the smell of Jack's cologne faint in the fabric.

"Good. You sound disappointed, is there  anther call you're waiting on?" Mum as was always someone who could tell when I was upset about something.

"No. He wouldn't call me, he thinks I hate him." Why not tell my mum? She's be supportive and would understand, right?

"He? Oh, Alex, you'd better be using protection. No one wants a dirty willie."

"Muuum, I know, I'm being safe."

"Now why does he think you hate him?"

"Because I didn't deny it."

"Do you hate him?"

"No! I really like him, actually."

"Then why didn't you deny it?"

"I-I dunno. I was really hurt and I just was so angry with him."

"Has he apologized?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's you're turn to forgive." There was a moment of silence as her words sunk in. "So when are you coming over for dinner?"

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I was eating cold, cheese, pizza by myself in my room, lazily writing down words to an untitled story. Jack loved pizza. I winced as the image of him leaving my room came to mind. I really needed to just let my anger go and call him. I wanted to be with him. He hadn't  done anything severely wrong. I glanced at my phone again. I picked it up and dialed his number, the digits engraved and memorized due to their frequent usage. The line rang for a moment or two, my fingers raking through my hair nervously. I hope he wasn't so upset with me that he didn't answer.

But what if he were? This wouldn't have been the first time I'd hurt him, unintentionally. The call went to voicemail and I debated on whether or not to leave a message.

"Uh, hey, Jack, it's Alex. I'm sorry. I really am, and..and I'd really like to a, patch things up. Okay, bye." I hung up the phone, the feeling of sounding stupid sweeping over me. I glanced at my phone again, maybe it wasn't too early to call him back.

Oh God, this was gonna be a long fucking night.

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I didn't sleep much that night, finding myself moping about my room, listless occupying my mind with useless things. I'd finished the song I'd been working on, titling To Live And Let Go. It was about my failure to fucking let go and move on from what Jack had done. Yes, our relationship might've had an odd start to it, but it didn't need to end. I had stuffed my phone into my pillow case so I wouldn't be tempted to call Jack after I'd called him three times. I figured he was either ignoring me, or just was asleep.

I didn't go to class the next morning. I awoke about eleven in the morning. I rolled out of bed, falling to the floor, with a thud. I laid on the floor for a while, just lying there. But I soon fell bored with lying there, the last remnants of sleep long gone. I stood and trudged into the kitchen. I started the coffeemaker and went to take a shower. I took a long shower and slipped on a pair of sweats and a thick hoodie, deciding to stay home and bum it. The coffee was done when I'd emerged from the shower. I had guiltily been checking my phone for a call from Jack. But he hadn't called, or texted me. Nothing. It was like we were truly having our first fight, even worse than the one time when we'd argued about which was better; notes or chords. To me chords were way better, since they could be so versatile. But Jack could be stubborn and insisted that notes were better because they could make a tune a lot more recognizable than chords could. He had a point, but he was cute when he was arguing with me, so I prolonged it.

I wanted to call him. My fingers ached to touch his hair again and pull him close. But God knew where Jack was and how he was feeling. I sipped at my coffee, thinking over a little bit of everything. The time that Jack had told me I was a douchbag under that one tree in the quad, I remembered that time that he'd ran after me into the bathroom, cheering me up and assuring me that it was okay.

My mum had a point, it was my turn to forgive. But even if I did forgive, I wanted to forget and move on. I drank  from my U.K mug once more, pondering in even more depth.

I called Jack again, this time making sure to leave another voicemail. After voicemail dos, I assumed he was avoiding me and didn't want to speak to me. And honestly, I didn't blame him. I was a douch. I deserved to be left alone. I set my mug on the table in front of me. He probably felt that I was toying with his emotions. But in my defense, I was toyed with as well.

I had thought that I'd found someone that got me, liked me for me and was just everything I'd wanted in person. Well, in truth, I had found that person, he wasn't what I was expecting, he was a little more, since I'm being honest. I had expected him not to be that good looking since he'd wanted to keep his face hidden from me.

Jack wasn't ugly by a long shot. His spiky, two-toned hair was so soft and sexy. His nose was the cutest thing, and his mouth was just kissable. I wanted him. I glanced at my phone again. I'd ruined it, and I doubted that I could fix it. I felt myself tearing up. Dammit, I had to see him. I stood from the chair and went to the door, slipping my feet into my house shoes. I went out into the hallway and went down to Jack's room, hoping to find him and just apologize.

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A/N: There'll be another chapter today, this was supposed to go up yesterday, but I'm lazy little shit. Plus, part of this had been deleted, so I had to re-write.