Status: In progress, loves.

Don't Waste Your Time on Me.



Isobel sat down on her beige living room sofa, a frown on her face. A frown she had been wearing permanently ever since her precious boy stepped out of the front door mere hours ago. Her eyebrows were furrowed, knitted together, making the creases and wrinkles on her forehead so much more prominent than they usually were. The mother had stopped pacing the kitchen about half an hour ago, albeit reluctantly (it helped her relax, okay?), instead she had opted to sit down and wait for her son to show up for dinner as originally planned. The only problem being that Isobel was not entirely sure if Alex would actually come home at all.

As she sat there all dressed up and with nowhere to go, the brown-haired woman's thoughts switched between various scenarios of how Alex could have been hurt on his way home, all of them equally alarming. Reaching out for the house telephone for what easily was the twelfth time that night, it dawned on Isobel that it was no use calling the boy. She already knew where he was. Of course she did. She set the speaker down again and leaned back on the sofa with her arms crossed over her chest, frowning even more.

The worried mother was trying to convince herself that Alex was fine, that he did not go around to the other boy's house, that her son was, in fact, not gay. It was not her son's purported homosexuality the widow of almost ten years had a problem with, not at all. Hell, her cousin was probably one of the most flaming homosexuals himself. It just.. did not feel right for Alex to be paling around with a man much older than himself. Because that was all this Jack was, a man. A man much older than the eighteen-year-old. And Isobel did not tolerate that. She had a problem with Jack, not with her son's sexuality. Or at least that was what she was trying to tell herself.

A wave of regret washed over her as she thought over the past few months. She thought about how she more or less threw her son out, her own flesh and blood, making him leave the house he grew up in, making him leave his home. But even worse than that, she blamed him for the death of his father, her husband. Isobel truly regretted yelling at her son in the middle of a grocery store, throwing all those hurtful things at him. But it was the truth. She still blamed Alex for her husband's demise, always had. It was easy to put the blame on someone else, it was comforting in a way. She needed someone to blame, and her son was definitely the easy way out.

If it was not for Alex and his stupid idea of wanting a puppy, if it was not for him and his whining, his pleading, Peter would never have driven to town on that day. He would still be here, with them. He would be able to see his son grow up, he would provide them the life he always promised them. Isobel would not have to go to bed alone and wake up to an empty bed if it was not for her son.

She picked up the phone for the thirteenth and hopefully last time, dialing the number of the only person she was positive was trustworthy enough to keep her intentions a secret while still helping her out with the dilemma she had found herself in. Molly. As Isobel pressed the speaker to her ear, a million different thoughts were running through her head, her mind a mess. A small part of her still hoped that her son was spending time with her best friend's daughter, not that that voice in her head was really all that convincing.

A slightly too high-pitched voice brought her back to reality and the mother sighed, deciding that spying on the caramel-haired boy was not the right thing to do and that Alex was definitely old enough to take care of himself. If he deemed Jack worthy enough of his time and effort, then it was her duty as a mother to respect and support that. The mother hung up, not bothering to say anything. She would just wait in the living room until Alex returned.

If he ever did return.


On the other side of Baltimore, in Jack Barakat's apartment, the pair was lying on the couch, all cuddled up and cute. The two of them had yet to talk about the events that took place while Alex lived with his mother. They had yet to come up with a plan of how to break it to the woman that the couple was back together again, that not only Alex wanted to be with him, but also to live with him. He was not breaking only one of the conditions, oh no, he was breaking them both.

Jack ran his fingers through his boyfriend's hair, smiling softly at the little mewls and hums he got from Alex in response. He loved being around the other, he had missed being with him like this. He stared down at him, taking in the features he hasn't seen in a while. Alex was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous. The raven-haired man noticed the little weight the other had put on, making him look healthier. Definitely a good sign.

Jack then moved his free hand from where it rested on Alex's waist down to his flat stomach. He slipped his hand under the younger's shirt, caressing the smooth skin of his stomach with his fingertips. Alex only giggled, turning his head to give Jack a questioning look. "Why are you feeling me up?"

Jack playfully rolled his eyes before he nuzzled the back of the younger's neck. He started placing small kisses there, humming contently. "I just love your tummy." he replied, closing his eyes. "I think it's cute."

"I think you're cute."