The Only Exception

It was late at night, much later than Mrs. Phillips ever allowed Sunday to have people over. She had been even more strict with the curfew set in place for the few friends that Sunday had ever since Mr. Phillips had left—left and not returned. But for the moment, Sunday wasn't thinking of her mother's rules. They were irrelevant and slightly ridiculous; ten o'clock wasn't late at night at all.

She snuggled into Alex and wrapped her arms more tightly around him. "I think my mom completely forgot that you're here," she said with a content smile.

He chuckled. "Not a problem, really," he agreed, "I can stay here all night, if you want me to."

With a slightly giddy smile, Sunday met his gaze. "Really?" she asked eagerly.

He pulled her closer. "I'm here as long as you want me to be here."

Sunday closed her eyes and inhaled, hoping to catch Alex's scent. She had always found it to be a particularly comforting and pleasing smell, but now, she couldn't find it. Confused, her eyes opened, and she looked around.

Quite suddenly, she was alone. Completely alone.

"Alex?" she called, perplexed. He had just been with her. She hadn't even felt him move. Maybe I fell asleep for a few minutes, Sunday thought to herself as she rose from her bed and crept down the stairs.

Waking up alone was one of the things that Sunday hated most in the world. It caused her to feel completely disoriented and slightly scared, for though she had been as such for so long, Sunday didn't like being alone. She found Alex, to her relief, though became entirely more puzzled when she saw him standing near the front door as he pulled on his jacket.

"Where are you going?" she asked, making him jump slightly.

He looked slightly apologetic—only slightly—as he turned to face Sunday. "I got a text from this girl I met," he said, a smile forming on his face. "I think I've got a chance with her tonight. And we weren't really doing anything here, so I figured why not?"

Her eyebrows ran together, and Sunday frowned as she tried to push back the indignant tears forming in her eyes. "But we were doing something," she countered, "We were watching The Little Mermaid. I... I thought you liked that movie." Unable hold back the tears anymore, she looked down at her hands and began picking at the polish on one of her thumbs.

"I do, Sun," Alex agreed, "but this girl... You should see her." He smiled as he looked at the text message on his phone that had persuaded him to leave Sunday.

"Okay," Sunday relented, admitting to defeat. "Well, have a good time." With a new resoluteness, she squared her shoulders and turned her back on him, preparing to return to her room and finish her movie. She'd be alone, but it wasn't a big deal. Sunday liked to be alone. She preferred it that way.

Or at least she was attempting to convince herself that she liked to be alone.

"Hey, Sun," Alex called after her.

Sunday froze, one foot on the stairs. "Yeah?" she asked, looking over her shoulder hopefully.

"Can I have that necklace that I gave you?" Alex asked.

She took another step up the stairs. "No," she bluntly stated. "It's mine. You got it for me, not this other girl."

Alex took a step towards her. "I think she'd really like it though," he explained.

Sunday's hand covered the necklace that hung at her throat. "No," she repeated. "It's mine."

His face changed, and he looked irritated with her all of a sudden. "Sunday, give me the necklace," he declared in an exasperated tone. He held his hand out, waiting for her to deposit it.

She turned and ran up the stairs. "It's mine," she repeated again. Alex couldn't want to give her necklace, her special present to someone else. He just couldn't.

"Sunday, stop being so childish," he demanded as he stomped up the stairs. He caught up with her by her bedroom door and reached out for her, grabbing her shoulder.

"No! It's mine! Mine, mine, mine!"

Another hand grabbed her other shoulder, nearly immobilizing her. Sunday's eyes immediately opened, and she tried to take stock of what was going on. "Jack?" she asked, her throat feeling thick. He released her shoulders and lowered himself onto the edge of Sunday's bed.

She sat up slowly. "That was... all a dream?" she asked, wiping away the stray tears that she had cried in her sleep.

"Yeah, it sounded like it was intense," Jack said, trying to laugh. He couldn't though. Sunday looked horrible.

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on them. "I normally don't talk in my sleep," she said, hoping he didn't think she was a complete freak.

He shrugged. "It's pretty normal," he countered, "Matt does it all tour long, which is really hilarious after a few bottles of Cuervo."

His face grew more serious. "It was about Alex, wasn't it?" he inquired.

She nodded weakly. "Yeah. They've all been about Alex."

"He really misses you, Sunday," Jack told her. "You could... call him or something. Whatever happened between you two can't be so bad that you never want to speak to him again. You guys were inseparable for like months." She didn't speak, and Jack sighed as he realized that she was not going to listen to him and call Alex.

"Do you miss him at all?" he pressed.

Her eyes were watery, and she pressed her hands into her eyes to stop the stinging that accompanied tears. "Of course I miss him," she said, "but that doesn't change things."

Jack relented. "I'm done being the devil's advocate. You want me to go grab some insanely unhealthy food from your kitchen? You look like you haven't eaten since the last time I came over."

The last time Sunday had seen Jack had been two days ago, and in truth, she hadn't eaten since then. She didn't have time for it anymore. All she wanted to do was sleep, because while she was dreaming, she could do whatever she wanted to. She could relive her night at the planetarium with Alex. She could just sit with him in any room of her house. She could do completely new and slightly crazy things with him—there was one dream that involved hot air balloons.

And no one seemed to notice. Mrs. Phillips was much too busy with her own life; her husband was still absent, and she had no idea how to go on normally without him. She had called her mother for re-enforcement, and while Ann Rintali could do a wonder with a bad situation, she was also at a loss on how to counsel her desolate granddaughter.

But there was Jack. He made sure that Sunday ate, laughed and smiled while he was there. He was doing the same for Alex, trying to keep him writing, drinking and being Alex Gaskarth. But it was growing difficult. Alex and Sunday had forgotten how to function without each other, and it didn't seem like either of them was going to remember how to do so in the near future.

The only explanation that made sense to him was for the two of them to make up. Sunday hadn't shared what Alex had done to displease her so, and Jack and Alex hadn't been able to think of any situation that she might have found so offensive, but Jack was working on it. He had to figure it out for his friends; Alex had been like another brother to him since high school, and he really liked Sunday. Jack was unsure whether he knew someone so sincere and just nice as Sunday.

So as he sat on Sunday's couch with her, the two of them scooping ice cream from a pint sized carton of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food, Jack came to a conclusion: He was going into James Bond mode. He was going to be the best spy in the world and figure out what the hell he could do to get them back together. They needed each other. Besides, Alex and Sunday sounded much better to Jack rather than just Alex. And then Sunday.