Rose

Chapter Eleven: Euphoria and Rage

In the days, weeks, and then months that followed, Rose and Alec spent nearly every night in each other's company. Of course, there were days when Alec was too tired -or emotionally scarred- from work, Rose had to work late with Ruth, Alec had family ordeals -such as Jackson's engagement party in Orlando- or Rose was just in a bad place and didn't want anybody around. This happened much more than Alec could stand. He wanted to reach out and help, make sure Rose was okay, but the last time he had done so, Rose had almost killed him for it. When Rose said he wanted to be alone, he meant it. Normally, the scars had become too much to bear, and he found his mind back in the deep, dark cellar, being starved and tortured as if he had never escaped, years ago. Other times, he grew dangerously paranoid, locking himself in his house with a gun in his hand, watching the doors like a scarecrow on duty. Whenever moments like the two listed came to pass, Rose was suddenly more clingy, more energetic, more loving than before. Alec just assumed it was because he was just thankful to be out of hell, not because the experience had made Rose any more affectionate.

When Alec looked in his inbox to see the awful, awful text, (something like, "hey, baby. I'm sorry, I need to be alone for a couple days. I'll see you on <enter previously scheduled date here>") he got angry. Oh, Alec got furious. Vexed. Seething. Apoplectic. The list of synonyms and exaggerations for how angry Alec got knew no end. He wasn't angry at Rose, of course not. He couldn't be. He wasn't angry at the world, either, just indirect hatred spawned from his temporary inability to associate with the love of his life. No, he was angry at one person: Geoffrey goddamn, motherfucking, cocksucking, worthless-son-of-a-bitch, good-for-nothing asshole Forfitch. That guy. Because he was the piece of shit who got in Alec's way of Rose.

Sure, they loved each other. They saw each other every night that they could manage -Alec almost lived at Rose's at that point- and they had seen everything the two of them could offer, both inside and out. But it was like the two were on two sides of the street, yelling at each other through oncoming traffic speeding endlessly between them, loudly, horns blaring and engines revving. Traffic lights and stop signs had long been evaporated, so car crashes between the two were as common as passing clouds. They both wanted to cross the street, to truly be with each other, but the flurry of crashing cars and speeding mobiles forbade them that. Alec would have no trouble running to avoid being hit, sliding on hoods to get to his beloved, but Rose would never allow him. Rose wanted the two of them to be safe, on opposite sides, painfully divided and healthy. Alec wanted them to be together, a little bruised and broken, truly in each other arms like never before. He would be willing to risk being trampled by a thousand pounds of metal and grease to achieve that. But Rose would force him to stay put, concerned for the life that Alec was willing to give him. Geoffrey was the traffic.

After months of leaning in as far as they could without falling, of screaming their throats hoarse to get points across above the sound of rushing cars and crashing metal, Rose finally put one foot into the busy road.

Rose's house was completely furnished.

About three or four weeks after Rose took Alec's virginity, Alec proved to Rose he could cook, and Dylan was scarred for life, Alec bought Rose a couch off of Craigslist, beginning the slow process of giving Rose adequate furniture. It was a cheap floral one, with a large rip on the back, that looked like it belonged in the living room of an eighty-year-old grandmother, but Alec knew Rose would like it, anyway. Alec would never insult Rose's taste, but...it wasn't the best. With the help of Dylan and Heather, he brought the couch in the bed of his truck, knocking on Rose's door. Rose answered it, looking over Alec's shoulder.

"Uh...what's that?"

"A couch," Alec answered simply.

"Well...yeah," Rose replied, watching Dylan and the stranger carry it off of the bed, "I can see that much. What is it doing here?"