Walls

The first time Alex saw his father resort to violence, he didn’t even see it coming. He was simply sitting at the kitchen table, trying to finish the complicated math problem he was stuck on for homework. He was swinging his legs back and forth and tapping his pencil in a highly irritating pattern. But then he heard the yelling. And the glass breaking. He couldn’t get up from his seat fast enough. By the time he reached the swinging kitchen door, and pushed it open slightly, he was frozen. He just witnessed his father hit his mother. The ten year old had no idea that this would become a regular event.

It happened often, after that. So often, that Alex learned to not even flinch at it. Of course, until he got up to his room. When he heard the yelling, glass shattering, sobbing – he just closed his bedroom door and hid under his bed with a flashlight. To see his parents screaming and yelling all those hurtful words at each other upset him more than anything. To watch his mother cry after she was hit, the handprint just beginning to appear on her cheek – it killed him. He hated his father for what he did - for making her cry, scream. To make her show all of those intense emotions. The pain became too much, and eventually he just tried to push all those emotions and feelings away as much as he could. And he did a damn good job.

Finally, on his sixteenth birthday, Alex’s father left. For good. He remembers the day so clearly, like it was only yesterday. He woke up early in the morning to the fighting between them. He could hear his mother crying hysterically after the front door slammed shut, and for a second, it made tears form in his eyes, threatening to spill over. He sat back down on his bed, curled up and pulled the covers back over him. His palms got sweaty, his head started to pound, and his heartbeat increased. His thoughts were racing, and he just wanted to close his eyes and never wake up.

But then, he got a hold of himself. He put up the wall that he spends almost all of his time keeping up and instantly, his headache starts to weaken, he starts breathing normally again, and his palms are not quite as clammy as they were. He’s numb, now, just the way he wants to be.

Now, Alex is eighteen. For the past few years, he’s been seeing therapists. They tell him that it’s all in his head – that he can overcome this fear on his own. But he knows they’re wrong. The anxiety, the nervous breakdowns, and the overwhelming fear of a disaster – all those things that happen when he lets his guard down – they’re not going to stop without help.

Enter Jack Barakat. Alex has been ‘seeing’ Jack for a few weeks now. They’re not dating. Definitely not. Because Alex really finds Jack to be annoying – especially with the way he keeps writing him crappy love poetry and kissing him whenever he finds the opportunity. Alex doesn’t really show him much affection. He hugs him when Jack looks like he’ll die if he doesn’t, and he smiles at him a lot, but other than that, he gives Jack no reason to stay. And overall, Jack is just really fucking annoying – but somehow, Alex can’t ask him to stay away. There’s something keeping him from doing that.

“So, do you wanna come around my place tonight?” Jack asks over the phone, and Alex, who’s stuffing a few textbooks into his backpack, shrugs to himself.

“Sure,” Alex responds, sighing lightly and checking that he has everything he needs.

“Okay. I’ve rented a few movies. And I got this really awesome ice cream – oh my god, you have to try it. Also, I have something I wanna play for you.”

Alex frowns and slams his locker closed. Another song written by Jack. Sounds awesome. “Alright. I’ll get my mom to drop me off at like, six.”

“Cool. I’ll see you then. Bye, babe.”

Alex ignores the little nickname and hangs up, stuffing his cell phone into his pocket.

- - -

Jack lives alone – aside from his cat – in an apartment that’s twenty minutes from Alex’s house. When he steps inside, the cat, whose name is Fish, immediately wanders over and wraps himself around Alex’s legs, purring in an annoying fashion.

“Hey, Fish – leave him alone,” Jack demands quickly, once he sees the bored, un-phased expression on Alex’s face, “Go somewhere else.”

The cat is quick to follow directions, and Alex watches it walk back towards Jack’s bedroom. When Jack’s arms wrap around his waist, though, Alex wishes that the damn cat would come back.

“I missed you all week,” Jack says quietly.

Alex wants to know why. Why would Jack miss him? He knows that Alex will never say that to him – knows that Alex will never show him any sort of emotion or feeling. So seriously, why?

“Let’s go watch some movies,” Jack suggests when the only response he gets is Alex nodding his head. He takes the younger boy’s hand leads him into his living room and over to his couch. “I already put one in.”

In no time, Alex is pressed into Jack’s side and counting down the minutes until the movie is over. Because suddenly, his heart is racing. His palms are sweaty. His head is pounding. And his throat is drying up.

Jack notices. “Hey, what’s wrong?” He kisses Alex’s forehead softly, his fingers gently brushing against his neck and that’s when Alex losses it.

He shrinks away from Jack, curling in on himself. His chest tightens, his body trembles. He opens his mouth, takes deep breaths in an attempt to get some air into his lungs, because he feels as if he’s suffocating. His vision is going in and out. He can hear Jack speaking, but he can’t figure out what he’s saying, exactly. He sounds panicked, though, and that makes Alex feel worse.

That wall – the one he’s perfected; the one he’s had up since he was fifteen – it’s gone. He can’t find it. He can’t get a grasp on it, and he can’t put it back up. It’s like Jack has shattered it – and that makes Alex’s sobs more intense. He’s terrified. He’s distraught. He’s… He’s so many things that he hasn’t allowed himself to feel for so long.

“Alex, come on, it’s just me.”

He hears that perfectly. He hears the panic in Jack’s voice – the concern. He feels Jack’s hands on him, running up and down his back in a soothing way and Alex’s vision comes back and stays back, allowing him to see Jack clearly. He shakes his head and closes his eyes as he tries his best to just focus on Jack- because it seems to be working.

When the tightness in his chest disappears, Alex sits up slowly, avoiding Jack’s stare and just trying to get his breathing back to normal. He rubs his hands on his jeans and then rubs at his eyes, just for something to do. But he can’t really avoid Jack forever.

“Alex? You’re scaring me…”

“I just…. I think you… Jack, you’re the one scaring me.”

“What? Alex, you just had a fucking panic attack on my couch. What the hell just happened?”

Alex sighs, “I don’t know.”

“Well…well fuck-”

“But,” Alex interrupts quietly, “you made me feel things that I haven’t felt in so long… You know that there’s something different with me – But for some reason, you stick around. I don’t….I don’t get it…”

“Because I like you,” Jack deadpans, as if yeah, it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And I don’t care if you’re different – obviously, something happened to you in your past, and emotions and feelings are definitely not your thing. But I’m willing to work with you – to help you…I mean… If you want, that is…”

Everything inside of him is telling him to say no. That he can still pick up the pieces of that wall that Jack just broke and everything can stay the same. But, as Alex looks at Jack, he knows that would be the worst decision he’s ever made. Jack cares – it’s so obvious now. He wants to help Alex.

The professionals tell him that he can do this all on his own. That he can overcome this fear by himself. But Alex knows that’s not true. He needs help. He needs Jack.