Somewhere in NYC

The next thing you remember is waking up in Alex’s arms and then having to run to the bathroom to violently throw up. You have to just sit with your head resting on your arms and your arms on the toilet bowl for a few moments before you can get up, feeling too sick to move. After a few more bouts of throwing up you feel okay to get in the shower and clean off the sweat and grime that has accumulated over the last couple of days, and when you get out and enter the bedroom again dressed only in a towel you feel much better.

By the time Alex wakes up you’ve got dressed and are lying on the sofa in the living room watching kids tv; Sponge Bob was on and how are you supposed to say no to that?

“Hey,” Alex croaks from behind you as he puts a hand through your hair and starts playing with random pieces.

You hum contently. “How come you’re not sick?” you question accusingly.

“Because I’m not an idiot whereas someone is,” he says pointedly taking away his hand and kissing the top of your head.

“Shut up, idiot,” you retaliate. It’s the best insult you can come up with right now.

You don’t really want to bring up the whole ‘this isn’t where I’m supposed to be’ thing so early in the morning, and it doesn’t seem like Alex wants to either, both of you content enough to pretend this is just a normal day. Although you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t been freaking out about it since the moment you woke up. You’ve pretty much accepted this is what’s happening, but it doesn’t make any sense. You’re still supposed to wake up on the tour bus to someone throwing water on you because you’re going to be late, and having to go to sound check with a dick someone drew on your face still present because they thought it would be funny. But it doesn’t seem like that’s happening. You’ve been in this reality an entire day now, and though it doesn’t seem normal, it doesn’t seem like you’re leaving either.

Alex crashes down on the sofa next to you making your stomach jolt and shaking you out of your thoughts. He noisily takes a bite of his toast and as he taps on the side of the chair loudly, you realise he’s still the obnoxious asshole he always was.

“Alex. Hangover.” You say, not like you’re expecting him to stop but hey.

“Shall I open the curtains?” he asks, glancing over to where the sun is trying to rip through the blinds.

“Fuck you,” you reply.

“Now, now, Jack. That kind of language isn’t going to get you anywhere. Where are your manners?”

“Fuck you, please.”

“Maybe later,” he replies nonchalantly, and yeah, fucking obnoxious asshole.

You sigh loudly which seems to switch the caring side of Alex on as he looks at you with compassion in his eyes.

“Do you need anything?” he asks.

“Get me fifty aspirin and a glass of water?”

Alex phones in sick to work so you don’t have to be alone all day, saying that he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything at work anyway and that you were more important to him than a few t-shirts. He also rang up your work and said you were seriously ill and would be tucked up in bed at home until at least next week, not even bothering to apologise when the permanently grouchy secretary got annoying. After hanging up the phone, he comes and lies back on the sofa squashed up against you, and although you feel sick and like you might throw up at any moment and like someone in your head is banging on all the doors, you’ve never been happier to have Alex as your best friend as you are in that moment. Not many people would be holding it together as well as he is. Which gets you wondering how long have you been ‘more than friends’…

“’Lex,” you say softly, unsure of how to approach the subject. “When um… How long have we been together?”

“Well… It’s kind of complicated,” he says, which makes you laugh. “What?”

“It’s just…” you say timidly, “it’s always complicated with us, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s like. The first time we… went out or whatever you say, we were thirteen, but that didn’t really last because it was just every time we were at a house party, we’d not really have anyone to be with seeing as we’d both just broken up with our girlfriends, so we’d just go together, so as soon as some girl paid me some attention I just left and… I didn’t think you cared but you later told me you did,” he says not looking at your face. “So then the next time was the summer after, and that was under the influence of alcohol… Six times in two weeks. I guess that’s when I started thinking about you in this kind of way… I just wanted to be with you all the time and I didn’t understand it because I’d never felt that way and you didn’t feel that way about me so I suppressed it. But I did feel it. And um…” he says timidly, “when we first practiced guitar together in my room one day when we were fifteen… I guess that’s when…” he coughs, “that was when I realised I was in love with you,” he finishes, trailing off to see how you’ll take those last words.

A part of you feels like crying. That is exactly how it happened in the way that you can remember it only the other way around. It was you who wanted to be with him all the time and him who didn’t feel the same way. It was you who thought for the first time that this feeling was probably what people meant when they said love the first time they practiced guitar together. They’d cracked the song in the first practice session. It was ‘I Miss You’ by Blink, and you had never seen Alex show so much emotion before without the influence of alcohol, which meant it was real, and it meant he trusted you, and no one had ever made you feel so much before. And it scared you.

“And then we didn’t talk for a few months,” you say for him.

“Because I was too scared,” he continues.

“I didn’t think it was you who was too scared,” you say.

“You mean-“

“That was the day I fell in love with you.”

“I love you,” he replies simply.

Although you and the Alex you used to know used to say those three words all the time to each other, it was always to get off the hook about something, or to convince the other to do something. Only once before had you heard those words uttered to you in quite the same way by this particular person, and you felt like if you weren’t careful you’d start crying again.

Alex looks at you closely. “It doesn’t look like you’ve heard me say that to you a whole lot before.”

“That’s because I haven’t,” you reply.

“So…” Alex starts, “in your memory… Are we not- do we not- Jack…” he trails off helplessly, placing his palm on your chest like a lost puppy.

“Yeah, we… We don’t. I mean, we’re best friends and I think we’d do anything for each other, including what we did last night but it’s not… it’s not like this,” you finish close to tears. You never realised how much you wanted this until you had it. The entire time of you and Alex being just friends who occasionally get each other off or cuddle if you’re lonely seems like a waste; you should have been doing this.

“You still make me feel so much,” you tell him. “Right now… I just want to stay in this moment,” you say softly locking eyes with him, “right here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says still looking into your eyes; you don’t know what he’s looking for, but you hope he finds it. Apparently he does because he smiles and leans down to place is head on your chest where you’re lying on the sofa, ear pressed to your heart.

“I love you, too,” you reply.

The rest of the day passes with you both in much the same position. Alex can’t be bothered to make anything to eat and you play the ‘I’m sick’ card so when you both get hungry you order a pizza, him automatically ordering the meat feast for you, which you presume is something the memory of yourself here and back in the band world have in common (you still can’t work whether you got zapped to an alternate universe), and it’s sweet of him all the same, especially as you’re ravenous due to throwing back up what you guess was the last two day’s worth of food.

When the pizza arrives he puts it on proper plates to make it look more like ‘real food’ and then slides in a dvd before pulling you up to a sitting position and giving you your plate.

You don’t think to inquire what film he’s putting on but you can feel his eyes on your face, and as soon as the film starts your face splits in to a giant grin. Home A-fucking-lone! The movie that makes you feel best on this entire fucking planet! You can’t quite think of words of gratitude to say so you just nuzzle your head in to his and hope he gets the message. By the smile you see on his face, you guess he does. ‘Smiling is a good look for him,’ you think, and for a moment you can’t choose whether to watch him or the film, but you figure you’ve got time for both.

“Jack… Jack please wake up… J-Jack,” is the first thing you hear when you wake up in the morning and it sounds like someone is crying but the only person that could be is Alex and as you open your eyes you can’t see him anywhere.

“Jack?” you hear called again, but this time in a more normal tone.

“Yeah?” you call back wearily.

“Oh you’re awake,” Alex says appearing in the hall, “I thought I heard movement. Sorry if your back hurts a little this morning, I did try to move you but your stubborn ass wouldn’t budge.” Ah, figures, he fell asleep on the sofa.

You realise that what you thought you heard before must have been mixed in with part of the dream you were still having, and upon sitting up you realise that, fuck, yeah your back is more than a little painful this morning. Alex must hear your sharp intake of breath because the next thing you feel is him sitting on the sofa behind you, and then his hands on your shoulders.

“Ugh,” you say as you stretch your back out after a few seconds of him rubbing your shoulders.

“Sorry…” he says sincerely, “I don’t think I’m the best at massages.”

“Fuck are you kidding me?” you reply. “Judging by this one you’re the world’s best.”

Alex lets more air out of his nose than normal in place of a laugh and you feel it blow against your neck.

“Well thanks,” he murmurs.

You make another noise of contentment before you correct him “no, thank you.”

You’re aware that you’re moaning like you would be if you were in a different situation involving much less clothes, but every time it’s involuntary and you couldn’t make yourself quiet down even if you wanted to, which you feel wouldn’t be necessary anyway.

After ten minutes Alex leans down to murmur “better?” in to your neck. And hell yes it is, and also “kiss me.” And oops did you say that out loud?

It’s not like the other time you kissed when you were drunk and just wanted raw passion from each other, this one is so sweet it makes your heart feel heavy because you might never be able to tell him how much you love him, and when you pull away it makes you hang your head and rest it on his shoulder just thinking about it.

He brings his hands to run circles on your back and whispers “you okay?” in your ear.

You finally pull away from hiding your face in his neck and when you lock eyes you say the first thing that pops in to your head. “I want you.”

You know what it sounds like but you also know he’ll understand what you mean. He’ll understand that this, this being in a relationship and just being able to touch each other whenever you want, and being able to say whatever you want to him is new for you. He’ll understand that you don’t know how else to say that you don’t know any other way to convey to him that you just want to stay here forever with him and no one else, and you don’t know how to convey to him that you just want to be familiar with every part of him that he chooses to show or keep hidden.

“I know,” he says, and then “I know.”