The Remains Of My Wasted Youth.

"I don't like this at all, Zack." Jack repeated for what must have been at least the tenth time in the one class that he and I had together in the morning. He hadn't liked the idea of me having lunch with Alex at all. He knew there was more to it than just a simple meal, and he was right. I needed ... I didn't know what I needed, actually, but I needed to find out why they'd come back.

"I have to do it, Jack. How am I ever going to get closure otherwise?" I asked softly.

Part of me wanted nothing more than to take pleasure in telling Alex every aspect about his past. I wanted to watch his beautiful eyes fill up with pain, I wanted to watch the guilt wash over him in waves that would batter him and drag him down, down, towards the watery grave where my heart lay, fertilized with two years of tears and fears and regrets. I wanted to watch his spirit break.

But another part of me wanted to hug him, to hold him and tell him that nothing was his fault, nothing was my fault. I wanted to take his hand and drag him far, far away and run through those same waves with him, both of us carefree and lighthearted, splashing each other in the waves. I wanted him to mend my heart and I wanted to mend his. I wanted to heal myself.

First things first, though. I had to get through this lunch. I had to see what he knew, what he'd been told. I didn't think his parents had told him anything, because I would have known. He wouldn't have been able to look me in the eye if he'd known.

He could have changed, though, I mused. Maybe he was that good of an actor now. What did I know? I knew that he was heartbreakingly gorgeous, I knew that he was vulnerable, and I knew that he wrote music so pure that angels could weep while listening to it.

I walked through the hallways slowly, looking for him. I spotted him leaning against a wall, eyes glued to the floor. He didn't hear me approach, that much was obvious. I poked his sides with my hands and he squealed, jumping almost into my arms. The close contact made my body heat up and I pulled away quickly, but still smiled at him as he looked up at me.

"Ticklish?" I asked innocently, remembering the numerous tickling wars we'd had. Alex had normally been the one to initiate them, always seeming to forget that he'd be the one squealing like a girl and rolling around on the floor. I'd always pretended that I was going to let him win, and then I'd pounce on him, finding his vulnerable spots and leaving him crying and pressing his legs together in an attempt to not piss his pants.

"A little," he admitted, his face turning a slight shade of pink. "Do you want to go outside?"

"Sure," I agreed readily. It'd be easier to talk to him with less people around. He'd probably open up more. "Do you want to get something to eat first?"

He agreed readily and we walked into the cafeteria together. Instantly, I realized my mistake. Kids took one look at us and started whispering and pointing. There were definetely going to be crazy rumors flying around by the end of the day. I was going to have to do everything in my power to keep Alex from hearing what the other kids had to say. Until I decided whether or not I wanted him to know about the past, I was going to have to stick to him like glue.

Looking at him, the wave he bit his lip nervously and the way he twirled his honey brown hair around a long slim finger, I decided it might not be so unpleasant to be around him after all. He seemed oblivious to everyone around him. It was actually kind of refreshing to be around someone who didn't seem to care about what other people said about him.

As we walked out of the cafeteria, he simply said "People seem to like watching you, Zack." Watching me. He thought they were watching me. I almost laughed, but then realized it was half true.

"They were probably wondering how you got so lucky," I said, being slightly cocky on purpose. '

"Lucky?"

I smirked. "Yeah. Normally Zack Merrick doesn't befriend anybody and that's just how it's been for the last - been since high school," I hastily amended. "I've known Rian forever, and the only reason Jack is in our group is because Rian felt bad for him. And now ... we've added you."

"Four's a good number," the dark eyed mystery said thoughtfully. "No one's ever left out that way, the way you are as three. And you don't get sick of being with the same person like you do when you're just two." He didn't look at me. "Sorry, I'm babbling."

We sat down in a sunny spot beside a tree. "So, Alex, tell me ... what was your song about?"

I didn't know what I'd been expecting, really, but it wasn't for him to look at me, straight in the eye for the first time since I'd met him, and say 'my dead brother.'
Pictures of his older brother flashed through my head. Tom had been a brooding twenty something year old when I'd last seen him. He'd moved back home because he'd gotten in trouble with the law. He did drugs, drank, and hooked up with a different girl nearly every day. Also, he'd hated on his younger brother for being a 'fag'. He'd often told Alex that he'd be better off dead. Just thinking that Alex had wrote a song about someone who'd barely meant anything to him when he couldn't even remember that the person who'd meant the world to him was - I shook my head to clear my thoughts.I couldn't think about this now. Instead, I casually asked how. He hoped for something vicious, like being hit by a train, or something tortorous, like drowning to death. Instead, he was shocked into silence at Alex's words.

"He hung himself." There was a few minutes of silence, in which I assumed I was supposed to say something, but couldn't. So Alex continued. "I found him. He was in his room. Everything was neat. He'd simply attached a rope and did it. He left a note for me. He said he was sorry. But really, I was the one who was sorry. Sorry I hadn't been able to stop him."

Tears had jumped into my eyes. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Without even thinking, I leaned forward and hugged Alex, pulling him into me. He might as well had been talking about the weather for the nonchalance in his voice, but as I hugged him, I could feel him shaking.

"I lost my brother two years ago. I know how you feel." The words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying and it was too late to take them back. I felt him stiffen for a minute and then he was hugging me back fiercely.

"I'm sorry, Zack," he said simply. "Were you two close?"

"Not as close as we should have been," I said softly.

"Me either. Tom was - well, he was ... different. We'd just really started to get to know each other. We'd really only been getting along for a year. I had no idea how screwed up he was. I should have done something to stop it. I should have known! There must have been signs! What kind of person doesn't realize that their own brother was suicidal?" his voice broke and i felt wetness on my shoulders. I just let him cry himself dry. They'd been here for almost eight months. Add another year to that, and that would mean that they'd just started talking after - maybe that's why. Maybe Tom woke up and realized.

Alex pulled away then, but I wouldn't let him go. "Alex, you can't blame yourself." He didn't meet my eyes. "Alex, I mean it, look at me." His eyes reluctantly climbed to meet mine, swollen and glossy and beautiful. "You have to let go, Alex. You can't keep living in the past."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I wondered who I was talking to - Alex .... or myself.