Too Much of Anything

After Jack left me there in the middle of his hallway, I did a lot of contemplating. I felt like I was losing him, slowly but surely he was being dragged away from me. The idea of this scared me to death but it was already happening. I regretted like hell acting like that. When he kissed me, well, something stirred. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but it didn't feel wrong or odd, but rather it felt like I'd been waiting for that moment for a long time.

I couldn't get it off my mind.

It made me wonder what exactly happened, what I was missing. My whole life had turned into a huge jigsaw puzzle, pieces scattered around here and there in my memory. Some were hidden and out of reach, while others lingered at the surface. Something had triggered a memory to escape from the recesses of my mind and now there it was right in front of me, in reach.

I remembered the way those kisses felt, the way his touch on my skin used to drive me insane. I remembered the way his smile would make me feel like nothing could be possibly better.

I was scared.

These thoughts and feelings they didn't feel like they were mine. They were foreign and distant, only making everything seem blurrier. Nothing had become concrete, in fact, it felt like the mystery that was Alexander Gaskarth only became more difficult to solve.

I, personally, didn't think it could be possible for me to feel that way, especially about Jack. From what I know (which at this stage is very little) my love life never was like this. Those images at the back of my head should have been wrong, I shouldn't think of Jack like that. But heck, it's his fault, he was the one who kissed me in the first place.

I was racking my brain for some connection with this feeling but I still came up with nothing. As soon as Jack's retreating back disappeared behind his door, I felt empty. I wanted to be able to understand all of this, but everything was so unclear and so bloody confusing. Why don't I want to remember?

I've heard of cases like this, when the person forgets because he wants to not because of an unfortunate accident. Is that what it is then? Every time I get closer, I always feel this sense of foreboding, like deep down I'm content on not knowing.

The silence of the room is suffocating and I feel like going to bed with the tension still thick in the air will only make me worry more. So I decide to do something, at least say something to Jack so we're on some sort of good terms. I walked towards his door, my hand reaching the door knob and turning it slowly. I was about to say something, to announce myself maybe with a goofy greeting, a joke that could possibly make him laugh. I stopped short though, my eyes travelling to Jack's shaking hands which were holding something tight, gripping on so hard that the paper beneath his fingers was threatening to break. At first, I was curious, but then I heard the whimpering, and it only made my heart break.

Jack was crying and in these sort of situations, normally I would rush to him and ask him what's wrong. But this time, I didn't, I just couldn't seem to. All I did was stare at him, my eyes drifting back to what I assumed to be some sort of letter.

Then it happens again, a feeling that I know what that letter is, yet I don't know what it is at all. I feel like my own hands are stained with the ink from that letter and here I am, also close to tears.

It doesn't make any sense, and that's what drives me crazy. The curse of not knowing why I feel like my whole world is falling apart and why Jack is so upset as well - it's making me insane. But why is he crying anyway? What is he crying about?

He hates me, that letter didn't work, nothing will work. I knew he'd never be able to forgive me.

I blinked two times over, eyes feeling a little sore. I shut the door very slowly, not wanting to draw attention to myself. I couldn't do anything for Jack right now, and although if I was still his best friend I would (but I'm not anymore) but I can't do it. I can't seem to face him right now.

I didn't really know what to do after that, for a while I tried to get my mind off it and think of something else. But everything kept on running right back round to Jack.

A sudden tiredness over came, and although it wasn't that late, I felt like I needed some shut eye. I laid down on the couch, staring up at the ceiling above, the light flickering.

-

"Do you want something to drink, Alex?"

My eyes adjusted to the light shining through the windows and Jack was standing in front of me from where I was sprawled across the couch. I sat up straight, my stomach rumbling as I did so. Jack snorted at me, mumbling, "Something to eat too, I suppose."

I didn't expect him to be here, talking to me like everything was fine and dandy when we both knew it wasn't. Strangely enough, I felt relieved that he was talking to me normally, but that left an invisible barrier between us, we couldn't see it, wouldn't talk about it, but it was there.

I shrugged at his question, my throat sounding extremely croaky when I responded, "Yeah, anything's fine."

The next thing I knew he was cooking something at their stove, I couldn't see what it was, but I had a distant feeling that it was pancakes. I didn't even know Jack could cook anything, I always thought he was hopeless at these sort of things. He seemed to be trying his best though, he was even tossing the pancakes in the air.

"Be careful, it might get stuck," I told him when he threw one pancake a little too high.

He mimicked my voice and then glared at me, "Just be quiet and wait for your food."

I laughed lightly, all of this seemed so easy, but it didn't feel quite right either. We hadn't exactly left things on a good note last night, but now he was acting like we were still best buds, which really wasn't the case. I should have just ignored this, but it was seriously bothering me.

He put the pancakes on two plates giving one out for me as he pushed me along a little so he could squeeze onto the couch.

"But what about Zack?" I asked, wondering whether Zack was hungry too.

Jack had already taken a big mouthful of his honey coated pancake and the next thing he said came out a little incoherent, "What about him?"

It's not like I hadn't noticed that either, Zack and Jack hadn't talked since they had that fight and Zack's either been in his room or somewhere else. All of this is my fault too, Jack got angry at Zack because of me. He really didn't need to do that.

I didn't answer his question and instead I took a bite of my pancake, thanking the lord that Jack learnt how to cook over these past few years.

Jack finished up, there wasn't much conversation between the two of us after that, but that was okay. He stood up licking the sugar away from his lips as he set his plate into the sink. He turned around and stared back at me, his eyes travelling down to my chest.

I raised an eyebrow at him, trying to work out whether he was checking me out or just looking at me. Maybe I didn't need to know. Either way, Jack answered my question for me."You need a new shirt," he stated.

I looked down at the shirt I had been wearing since I got here, Jack had a point. I hadn't really bothered to think about clothes, and truthfully I'd been stealing Jack's stuff anyway. Although, he hadn't seemed to notice that yet.

Before I could say anything, Jack had grabbed my hand (let's just ignore the fact that it gave me the shivers) and pulling me to the direction of his room. He stopped, peering in at the state of his room and making a face.

"Hold on a sec," he instructed, going into his room and shutting the door behind him.

He was acting weird, well Jack was always a little weird, but this had taken a whole new level of odd. Before I knew it, the door was open again and I was being grabbed the second time and hauled into his room. He chucked me a shirt, and another, and another. "You can wear these for now, they're my ones from a few years back, hopefully they'll fit you."

I mumbled a thank you, looking at the shirts that in my hands, some of them actually looked familiar, like he might have worn them when we were friends and when we were teenagers.

Jack shut his closet, ready to leave the room when something caught my eye. I'd been looking around the room for the last few seconds he had been debating on what to give me and it looked a lot like his room at his parents house, but that wasn't what I noticed. There was a picture, a definite old one of Jack and me. I didn't remember it getting taken, but I felt some sort of nostalgia when looking at it. I walked towards it, my hands grasping out to reach it.

That is, until Jack stopped me. He pulled me back and in the process we both ended up on the ground.

The first words that left my lips were a silent apology, but I was frozen as soon as I looked properly at Jack. His eyes were almost melancholic and there was a trace of a faint smile dancing across his lips. I hadn't noticed, but he had grown a lot of stubble.

Without really thinking about it, my hand was touching his face, feeling the skin underneath. He shut his eye at the contact and for a second I was entranced by it all. It reminded me of the feeling when Jack kissed me, but this time it was much stronger. I leaned in ever so slightly and placed a kiss on his lips.

Maybe it was out of curiosity, to feel what it would be like to be the initiator. But it was more than that, more than I would let on and more than I could know. Jack's eyes opened at this, shocked at first and then the emotion on his features changed. He sat up, accidentally pushing me back until we were no longer lying haphazardly on his carpet floor.

Jack grabbed at my wrists, pulling me closer to him and in my head I was panicking. I didn't know what I was doing or what was happening. At first, I couldn't imagine that something like this would ever happen between the two of us. But here I was, a feeling of sudden lust taking over me, it was like being hit by a tidal wave of this emotion.

Before I knew it, my lips were on his again and he was kissing back, but harder this time. His hands traveled from my own trembling hands up to my neck and to my cheek and then he was pulling at my hair in a way that was so endearing that that action was destroying all thoughts in my mind.

His lips left mine, very briefly, and they found their way to my neck, kissing down gently and delicately as if I was a fragile object. My own hands were on Jack's thighs, not knowing what to do with them, whether to move them or keep them still. I was clueless, so clueless.

Then, I suddenly knew what to do. I was grabbing at his shirt, tearing at it and not caring about it getting ripped. It was off his body and I felt myself staring in wonder at his bare chest.

Suddenly that lust turned into love, which very soon after, turned into fear.

It was different this time though, that feeling wasn't so far away it was right in front of me and I could see it. I could see it all.

I pushed Jack away as fast as I could, and I could see the hurt written all over his face. I couldn't explain it to him right away, because I was trying to deal with it myself. But I felt like I was in love with Jack. Or something. I knew that we had done all of this before and I remembered now - I remembered that that bet led to discovering my feelings about Jack. But there was nothing else, only that. And I didn't even know how to deal with that piece of information.

I was up on my feet in an instant, not looking at Jack, afraid to look at Jack. I ran out of the room and into the hallway where I grabbed the house phone, typing in a number.

With a click, a voice resonated at the other line. "Hello?"

"Rian, it's Alex," and with the next thing I said, I ushered it as quietly as possible, "I think I'm in love with Jack."

Rian only laughed down the other line, "Haven't I heard that one before."