Ghost Of You (Jalex)

III

Alex's POV:

I wake up the next morning, slightly hungover, but it isn't too bad. I didn't drink much last night, which was good since Rian was here. I remember that he was still downstairs, so I drag myself to the bathroom to change clothes. I don't take Jack's hoodie off, but I do change sweatpants. I saunter downstairs, seeing Rian not to be on the couch. I smell food in the kitchen, so I assume he would be in there.

When I turn the corner and walk into the small kitchen, I see he isn't in there, either. There is a plate of french toast on the counter beside a small note, which I pick up to read.

Went to go meet up with Zack. I'll come back if you need me. Love, Rian

I sigh, throwing the note away as I eat the food, which is still warm, so I assume he must have just left. I see my empty bottle from last night and quickly dispose of it, as I didn't like being reminded of my unhealthy habits. I didn't drink at all when I was with Jack. Not only was it illegal for me to be drinking under the age of twenty-one, but I also wanted to experience life with him while I was completely sober. He looked at things the same way; he almost always did.

Now, drinking is my way of escaping that doesn't let me escape from anything, but I want to believe that it helps. I still have breakdowns over Jack whether I'm drunk or sober, but they hurt much, much more if I don't have alcohol to numb the pain that reaches every inch of my body.

I already feel the familiar sting of tears in my brown eyes. I put my hand on a doorframe to steady myself, desperately trying to control my already rapid breathing. If only Jack was here. If only he could wrap me in his warm embrace and make me feel safe again. If only he didn't make the decision he didn't want to live anymore.

He didn't even have a funeral. No one wants to say that he's dead. He's MIA, which I guess should make me feel better, but I knew he had died to the cruel hands of suicide. I could read it on Rian's face. Maybe that's why I grew distant with him. I guess I was angry that he knew what was wrong with my Jack, even though he promised he didn't. I could read him like a book.

I can't live like this anymore. I don't want to.

Rian's POV:

I met Zack at the coffee shop as he planned, ordering myself a coffee before walking over to his table to sit across from him. I couldn't help but notice that he looked exhausted; he looked as if he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep the entire night. I give him a confused look, getting a shrug in reply.

"Roommate had one of his bad days," he mumbles, rubbing his eyes and taking a sip of his coffee.

"You keep talking about your roommate causing you problems, why don't you just tell him to find somewhere else to live?" I ask.

"I couldn't do that to him," he says simply. "Sometimes we have to realize what matters to us. He's my best friend, and if he's in pain I'd rather be there for him than just go on wondering if I could have possibly helped him."

His words sink in and I'm instantly reminded of Alex. I knew he needed a friend, but I haven't been hanging out with him because I didn't want him to become reliant on me. Also, I have other things in my life I needed to focus on. It turns out that in the process of my happiness, I practically abandoned my best friend.

"You're thinking about Alex, aren't you?" he asks. I nod my head, not quite snapping out of my haze. "I think if you spend more time with him, he'll feel much better about whatever happened." I had told Zack about Alex's depression, but I've always refused to tell him what happened to make Alex that way.

"He had this friend," I say quietly. "Well, boyfriend, to be more precise. They were so happy together. Nothing could bring those two apart; they were practically connected by the hip! I was the awkward third wheel, but they were happy, which made me happy. My two best friends were happy after they were both fairly unhappy people, so who was I to interrupt?" I pause for a second, preparing myself for what I was about to say.

"You see, this kid that Alex was dating- he was depressed. He talked to me about it since he didn't want Alex to worry about him, which I guess I understood. He was getting worse and worse, so I repeatedly told him to talk to Alex because I knew Alex would help him in a heartbeat. Still, he came to me instead. One day, he was gone. He committed suicide; at least we think so. Alex completely lost grip on himself. He wasn't Alex; he's still not Alex. He's the raw product of intense heartbreak. It has been eight years, and nothing has changed, no matter what happens. I can't get him to get professional help, and he's determined it will get better. Honestly, though, if he was going to get better, I think he would be already."

"What do you mean by you think he committed? Are you not sure?"

"Uh, well, there was no official who found him and there was no funeral, but the context of the situation made it clear-"

"Wait, if you're not one hundred percent positive that he's dead, don't assume it to be true. I have a few tricks up my sleeve- if you give me a name, I can find the records and see what happened to him."

"Uh, ok, his name was Jack Barakat." As I say it, his eyes widen with shock.

"I- I've heard of him," he says after a moment. He stands up after he drinks the last of his coffee, bidding me a quick goodbye, promising me he'd do what he could to find out the true story behind Jack's disappearance.