Status: Complete!

I'm Not The Same Boy You Knew Back Then

Chapter 8

Matt turned the keys in the door, pushing it open with a shove from his shoulder. He held it open for Alex and Jack to come inside, before slamming it shut and throwing the keys onto the coffee table. "Err, make yourself at home, Jack."

Jack half smiled, and watched Alex as he plodded over to the faded leather couch and flopped down onto it with a sigh.

The apartment the pair shared was too nice to have been purchased by two young adults with low paid jobs, which is why Matt's parents had bought it for their son. There was the lounge with the average size television and a couple of couches, which lead into the kitchen where the dining table was placed in the centre. Three doors were dotted around the space, which lead to 2 bedrooms and a bathroom. It was also incredibly clean, considering males owned it. Matt was proud of his home - Alex constantly made the joke that he had to be gay, because he was like a prissy housewife. He was always cleaning and washing, and even already ironed clothes had to be ironed again before Matt put them on. But Matt just said that he liked keeping everything in order, and Alex wasn't one to argue when his clothes were being washed for him and his food was on the table when he left his room.

"Anyone for a drink?" Matt yelled from the kitchen.

"Uh, just water for me please," Jack mumbled.

"Alex?"

"Beer!"

Matt's head poked around the door to the kitchen. "Is that wise, Alex? After being in hospital I really don't think alcohol is the best-"

"Matt, just give me a beer or I'll get one myself." Alex's face was set in stone, and Matt thought it would be best to just give in.

Jack sat down on the sofa next to Alex, being careful to mind his legs which were stretched out, and accepted his glass from Matt. "Thanks," he said, trying his best to be polite, and not in any way an asshole.

Matt handed Alex his beer, who snatched it from him, sitting up slightly to open it. Matt picked up the TV remote, and pressed the red 'on' button, trying to escape the silence. An old episode of Friends came on, but no one was really paying any attention. They were all too wrapped up in their own little worlds. About five minutes passed like this: awkward silence and occasional glances. Then the phone rang. Matt, physically jumping at the opportunity to break away, sprinted for the phone.

"Hello?" He half shouted.

It was couple minutes of 'hmm' and 'okay', before Matt put the phone down, ending the conversation with, "love you too!" He approached the pair on the couch as he grabbed his coat, pulling his arms through the sleeves. "I, uh, gotta go. Zack's car broke down, and he's got no money for a cab. I'll be back later." He threw Alex a 'good luck' glance, and hurried out of the door, leaving a rift in the already tense atmosphere.

Alex sat up straight, the reality of the situation sinking in. He placed his can of beer on the floor, and turned on the sofa to face Jack, sitting indian style. Jack smiled as he watched Alex, and mirrored his position - it was what they did as kids. They both just stared at their hands, not sure of what to say or do. The TV was now on standby, long forgotten. Jack was the first to speak up. "So, I, uh, think we need to talk." Alex nodded his head jerkily, still feeling a little tense. He was playing with his fingers, trying to make sure he didn't look up into Jack's eyes and get disastrously distracted. That was until Jack covered Alex's hands with his own, holding them gently. "Stop it. You said yourself you wanted to talk, that's why I'm here."

Alex blushed a dark crimson. "O-Okay." He really hoped Jack couldn't feel his palms sweating.

Jack rolled his eyes, as Alex still didn't even look like he was going to ask the one question they both knew was lingering in the air.

Alex couldn't understand what was wrong with him. His lips could barely form a word right now, but a few hours before he was talking to Jack without any difficulty. He could only presume that it was because his brain had realised that asking the question could result in a genuine answer, and the few years Alex spent despising Jack for leaving would have been for nothing.

Jack sighed. "Okay, so you want to know why I left, right?"

Alex nodded, lip caught between his teeth. He didn't trust his voice to answer. Whenever Alex got nervous, he'd usually stutter or his voice would crack at points in a sentence. Right now, he really didn't want to make a fool of himself in front of Jack.

Jack paused for a second, eyes moving around the room as he collected the right words to say. Then he smiled. "Look, Alex. You're going to have to hear me out, okay?" He watched Alex nod again, so he continued. "You have no idea how sorry I am. For taking the guitar, for just leaving you with a crappy note, I mean… It was never meant to turn out like that. I was never meant to meet someone like you. I was meant to be at that shelter for a few months, if that, while I worked out what to do. But you… It was all your fault. You kept me there. If you hadn't been so insistent and bubbly and kind, we wouldn't have made friends and I would have left sooner. However, I'd never give up that time with you for anything.

My life was, is, complicated, Alex. My mother died of cancer when I was ten, leaving my dad to look after me, my older brother Joe, and pay for food and everything else. I never really understood what was going on, but I knew that Joe was changing after her death. He rarely came out of his room, he returned home late every night, always smelling of something I could never put my finger on. He had always used to play with me, and I looked up to him, but now he was just ignoring all of us.

One day, Joe came up to me and asked me if I'd do him a favour. Of course, I thought that Joe was becoming his old self again, because he was talking to me and actually smiling, so I jumped at the chance to help. We were struggling for money, and he said that there was something he desperately needed. I then told him I had no money, but he already knew that. He told me there was something I could do myself to pay for what he needed, and I said I'd do anything. That was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made." He paused, looking down at his legs as he let out a shaky breath, before continuing. "He took me to this warehouse, it all happened so fast. I just remember being pinned to a wall and h-having my clothes teared off with a knife by some huge goon." A sob ripped through his throat, and his eyes glassed over with unshed tears. Alex began shaking his head, already knowing what was about to come. "I'd never f-felt pain like it, and I don't think I ever will. I couldn't stop crying, and… and after it was over, I remember watching the guy give my brother a bag of white powder." Tears began falling from Jack's chocolate eyes, splashing onto the pair's linked hands.

"Jack-"

"No, let me finish." He sniffed, composing himself. "It happened a few more times after that… each time it only got worse. The kids at school asked me where the hand marks on my arms were from, or the blemishes on my neck, but I'd just completely ignore the question and change the subject. My dad found out about three months later. He'd already seen the bruises on me, but I'd said they were from a couple of rough play fights. But then he went into Joe's room to change his bed sheets and saw him with the drugs. Joe eventually cracked under the pressure and told him how he'd got them. Then… then my dad called the police on him. He'd called the cops on his own son. Yeah, I get that he made me do all that shit for his coke, but he went to prison, for God's sake. I thought it was all my fault. My father went a little insane after this - it was the heavy cherry on top of the incredibly unstable cake. Trying to juggle two jobs, the love of his life dying, his one son in prison and his other emotionally scarred. It all drove him crazy, and he killed himself - he left me a note apologising, along with all the money he had, which wasn't much. I was twelve years old, Alex. I barely understood what had happened, and I had no idea what to do. So I ran away. Joe was none the wiser to any of this.

That's why I left you, Alex. I had to tell him. He had no idea his own father had died. Plus, I had to convince him that I didn't blame him for what had happened to me. He was addicted to cocaine, he couldn't help that he needed to do whatever he could to get his fix. The grief drove him to drugs, apparently, not me. That lifted a huge burden I'd carried for those few years. And then I guess… I didn't have the guts to come back to you before now. I only came back to town about a month ago after staying with a friend for a while. I had no idea you were still even here, until I saw you through the window of the coffee shop you work in. And last week I was also in the bar you go to with your friends. I could never forget that face. That's when I decided I should at least try and speak to you, so I came up with my master plan of playing a song for you. That's the one thing that always kept with me since I left - your guitar. When I took it, I used it to make money so I could go visit Joe, and I didn't want to sell it, because it reminded me of you.

Alex, can you ever forgive me?"

The only answer Alex could give was flinging his arms around Jack's neck in a caring embrace, and a whisper of, "I was never really mad at you."
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ERMAGERD yeah so, dramatic chapter yay i guess. and i lied when i said i'd try and post in the week that's just gone because crappy internet connection and lack of inspiration. hope you like this chapter. and thanks for the comments, recommendations and subscriptions! :)