Ghost Of You (Jalex)

I

Alex's POV:

"Dude, you need to get out of that hellhole. You just sit there and waste your life away in blankets and sweatpants, trying to drink your problems out of existence. You can't keep destroying yourself like that, Alex," says a slightly irritated Rian Dawson over the phone.

"You don't know what it's like," I mumble, slightly drunk.

"Jack was my friend, too!" he yells, forgetting our unspoken agreement to not use his name. I hang up, turning my phone on Do Not Disturb. I avert my attention back to the television screen, which is playing some sort of crappy sitcom. I don't pay much attention to it, really. It was more of a distraction than anything.

I curl under the blankets even more in the chill of the December weather, drinking more and more. It seemed to be the only effective way of getting him out of my mind. From my usual spot on my worn couch, I can peer out the window at the neighborhood around me.

Christmas lights illuminate the sidewalks that are slick with rain that had fallen around noon. Kids dance around as snowflakes gently fall from the sky. Their smiles are so true; so genuine. I stand up, walking over to the frosty window to get a better look. As I watch, it brings back a memory I have with Jack from when we were sixteen and had just started dating.

~flashback~

He carries the Christmas lights out from his messy garage, practically dropping the box on the front lawn, which is coated with a thin layer of snow. I, having been prepared, throw a snowball at him, hitting him square in the shoulder.

"Oh, you're gonna get it, Gaskarth!" he yells, gathering snow for himself. I squeal in excitement, quickly scooping up as much snow as my mostly numb, bare hands can handle. As I hastily roll the snow into a semi-decent sphere, Jack runs up behind me and drops his snowball down the back of my shirt, causing my entire body to tense with the cold. I drop the snow I had been holding, gasping with shock. He's such an asshole.

He's practically crying of laughter for a good thirty seconds before he starts to regain his composure, one hand against a tree to keep him supported. "You're all tough until you get your ass kicked, aren't you?" he teases.

"What you did wasn't fair," I shoot back playfully.

"Since when do snowball fights have rules?"

"Since now."

"And who said you can make the rules?"

"I did."

He chuckles, taking three strides toward me before kissing me, warmth flooding through my entire body, as it did every time he kissed me. I felt so truly alive in these moments- well, until an asshole decides to be an asshole.

More cold snow falls down the back of my shirt, causing me to jump away as Jack bursts into laughter. "Damn you, Jack! That doesn't feel good!" I exclaim, trying desperately to get the snow out of my shirt. My back is so cold that it actually starts to hurt, so I stumble over to the front porch and collapse on my back. I, for some reason, assume that laying on my back would generate warmth- nope. That just made it worse.

Jack had finally stopped laughing, walking toward me again. I flinch and put my hands up in defense, causing him to put his hands up as a way of saying he didn't have anything he could hurt me with.

"That was good, you have to admit," he states.

"Yeah, but it hurts," I whine, my back almost completely numb at this point.

He flashes me a look of sympathy before lifting me up over his shoulder, causing me to hit his back as I shriek with laughter. He places me down in front of the fireplace in his living room, sitting beside me. He pulls my wet shirt up over my head, promising he'd be right back as he walked up the wooden staircase that led to the bedrooms. I wait patiently, not feeling awkward since I knew his parents were both away on business trips. He walks back downstairs with fluffy blankets, pillows, and one of his sweatshirts, which he tosses to me. I gladly put it on, as I loved his scent.

"What about the lights?" I ask, slipping my arms through the armholes.

"Those can wait," he replies, laying the blankets on the ground. I stand up, helping him spread them out on the floor in front of the fireplace. When the blankets are done, I take a few steps over to the sofa to retrieve the pillows as Jack rolls into the blankets, drawing a giggle from me. He was such a child sometimes, and it was something that I absolutely adored about him.

I toss him his pillow, kneeling down to place mine beside it. I unexpectedly feel him pull me to him, causing me to collapse onto his chest. He pulls the blankets over us and holds me tight against him, gently running his fingers through my hair. I kiss his cheek, but he turns toward me. My lips connect with his, settling us into a soft, slow kiss.

I pull away from him just slightly, whispering, "I love you," against his lips. He hasn't said it back yet, but I don't get angry at him for it. This way, when he finally did say it back, I'd know for a fact that he'd truly mean it. I kiss him again, only pulling away occasionally to whisper that I loved him. I pull away, about to tell him I loved him again, but he holds my face in both of his hands, looking into my eyes. His eyes were the most beautiful shade of brown; my heart melts when I look into them. I never fail to feel butterflies in my stomach whenever we make eye contact, even after years of knowing him. Even before we started dating, his gaze had some kind of spell on me.

I feel his shaky breath against my face, but he doesn't break eye contact. "I love you, Alex," he says, his voice barely audible. "I love you," he repeats, slightly louder.

A warm feeling floods through me. It's the kind of warm feeling that nothing else can offer; the kind of warm feeling that doesn't have anything to do with the temperature of your surroundings. It's the kind of warm that your heart feels, spreading from there into every cell in your body.

"I love you so much," I murmur in reply, reconnecting our lips. Suddenly, the kiss has so much more meaning. We were in love, and nothing could ever change that.

~flashback over~

I snap out of my haze when I feel the hot tears streaming down my face, but I don't bother to wipe them away. I put down my mostly empty bottle, leaning against the wall for support. I allow my weak knees to give out, sliding to the hardwood floor, burying my face in my hands.

"Why did you have to leave me, Jack?" I yell, knowing full well that was the question I would never hear the answer to. "You could have talked to me!" I continue, not caring how insane I sounded. "I love you, I still do! Why couldn't you see that and realize how badly this would fucking hurt me?" I sob and sob until my body is too exhausted to cry anymore. I hastily grab my trusty bottle, downing the rest of it before pulling my shaky body to my feet. I stumble to my bedroom, clicking off the TV and light switch on the way.

I pull one of Jack's old sweatshirts- the one I wore that day after our "snowball fight"- over my head before curling up in the covers. The bed was too large for just me; it was too large without Jack wrapped in my arms, smiling as I lightly press kisses to his forehead, as I used to do every single night. I never, ever wanted to make him feel like he was unloved, even if that's how I feel now. Maybe I didn't do good enough. I obviously didn't.

I couldn't save him.