Happy

[002]

The thing that awoke the singer of the pop punk band were little sets of feet walking on his stomach. Alex let out a groan, pulling the duvet over his head and hoping that the little feet would go away, only to have a small, warm body settle itself down on his stomach.

Alex breathed laugh before finally poking his head out from under the duvet, narrowing his eyes over at the little dog that had his head cocked to the side a little.

"Bazzzzz." He whined, moving his body in hopes that it would make Baz move. The dog stayed in its place, blinking its big eyes over at Alex.

Alex groaned again before shifting so that he could get Baz off of him without pushing him to the floor. His head was absolutely killing him and the little sun that seeped through the blinds in his temporary room was too much for him to handle. Once he'd got off the bed, he very reluctantly trudged over to the kitchen, knowing that he'd thrown a box of painkillers in a random drawer the day before. He already knew that he was going to get drunk, so he was sort-of prepared for his hungover self. It would've been better if past-Alex had left the box of painkillers in plain sight and shut the blinds properly before he left for the pub, but past-Alex apparently didn't think that far.

"Fuck. My. Life." He mumbled, digging through a drawer filled with the most random crap, ever.

He had sort of gone grocery shopping the day before, buying the necessities first and he didn't sort them out properly. Everything that he'd bought the day before was probably in that tiny drawer. Curse you, past-Alex.

When he finally got ahold of the painkillers and downed them, dry, he went straight for a shower; letting the warm water run down his sticky body. He shampooed his hair, only to have said shampoo go into his eye, resulting in his yelp of pain and then hitting his head against the tiled wall in the shower due to his shut eyes.

Alex predicted an absolute shit day ahead.

With a tear sliding down his cheek from the burn of the shampoo chemical, he grabbed up his phone before he settled down on the bed, only bothering to pull on a fresh set of boxer-briefs. His dog was the only one that would see him, anyway.

His handsome features rearranged into a frown as he noticed a conversation between him and a contact by the name of 'bartender' in his phone. He couldn't remember ever giving anyone that nickname - he had a couple of different nicknames for his closest mates - so why was he texting this person at... two in the morning?

I got home ok

Good to know. Get some sleep.

You're not going to tuck m. e in ?

Not tonight. Go to sleep, Alex.

How does I s pell you're nam. e?

Zooey.

Alex's eyebrows knotted together. He didn't know anybody with the name Zooey, and even if he did, he certainly wasn't close enough to her to have a nickname programmed into his phone. The only logical thing he could come up with was that she was really a bartender. The bartender that served him his alcohol the night before, at that.

At the realisation that he'd basically ranted about how he had two girls who sort of wanted to date him and how he was so conflicted to a complete stranger, he let out another groan, letting his body fall back so that he lay on his bed, his face covering his hands in embarrassment. He honestly never thought that he would be one of those people.

His phone dinged, making him blindly reach out for it and then sliding his thumb across the screen without looking to see if he'd hit the right spot.

Where are you? I went over to your house but you weren't there :( we need to talk. ily

Alex raised an eyebrow, making a face at his phone. So now Lisa wanted to talk? Not when he said that the fling with Tay was really just a fling? Not when he begged for her to listen? Not when he insisted that he loved her and not Tay?

And ily? What the fuck was 'ily'? Was it that difficult to type out those three little words?

He wanted so badly to believe that he and Lisa could actually work out things out - that he would eventually be able to just stick to one girl for the rest of his life. That one girl being Lisa. Hell, he'd be pleased with himself if Lisa and him could stay together for a full year without either of them breaking it off for a month or two only for them to get back together.

He wanted what Rian had with Cassadee. Those two were so fucking perfect together, it was ridiculous. They fought, like every other couple, but they never broke up. Maybe they'd give each other the silent treatment before the one in the wrong would apologise and they'd be okay again. That was love.

What Alex had with Lisa? Even Alex didn't know what it was.

Once upon a time, Alex was a true believer in love. Granted, he was a bit of a whore when All Time Low started getting big, but that didn't last really long. He liked to think that romance and love and all those fairytale-esque soppy shit was real.

Then came real life.

Alex scoffed, exiting the chat, opting to not reply it even though he knew that she would see that he'd read it. There were times when he hated the iMessage feature of the iPhone. This was one of those times.

He tapped on the chat with the bartender instead, his fingers hovering over the keys as he figured out what to say. He wanted to apologise for the complaining bit, but he also wanted to thank her for making sure that he got home okay. At least, he assumed that she played a part in somehow bringing him back to the flat.

A sober Alex was already stubborn to begin with, and a drunk Alex was as hardheaded as a block of wood - if that even made sense.

That meant that he probably wanted to stay at the pub and carrying on drinking till he passed out, no matter how sick he might've been feeling, unless someone - the bartender, he presumed - forced him to go home.

Hey, it's Alex from the pub yesterday. Sorry for being a bother last night and thanks for forcing my drunk ass to go home. Sorry again. I hope drunk me didn't give you too much shit.

Nibbling on his bottom lip, he hit the send button before he could talk himself out of sending the text. His phone dinged almost immediately after, making him scramble up to get his phone. One never knew how nerve-wrecking texting a stranger and thanking them for taking care of one's drunk ass was unless one had to do it.

It's fine, and you're welcome. I don't know you but I hate you, by the way.

His eyes widened as he sat up, spluttering to himself. He tried even harder to remember what he did last night, coming up with nothing but foggy images of a flame haired girl serving him a colourless drink after his third or fourth (or fifth) beer.

What, why? Did I insult you or something last night? If I did, I'm so so so so sorry.

Nahh, you didn't insult me. I just hate you 'cause you woke me up. I slept at, like, 7 in the morning.

Alex glanced at the clock, wincing as he read the illuminated green number that said 10.49AM. He knew what it was like to be woken up after only a few too little hours of sleep - sleeping in a tour bus that were occupied by four other dudes wasn't as fun as you would think - so he could empathise with her.

Fuck. Sorry. Just wanted to say sorry for whatever I did and thank you for making me go home. That's it. I'm gonna go now. Goodbye.

Have a good day :)

Alex smiled, opting to reply her text with a smiley face, even though he was already certain that his day was going to suck ass. His smiled dropped when he remembered the other text that he had to attend to.

The thing that pissed him off wasn't that she'd walked away without letting him explain. The thing that pissed him off was that he didn't even know if he still loved her.

Lisa had been his first love, so maybe there would always be a part of him that would want to go back to the petite brunette with big, green eyes. But did he love her enough to want to spend the rest of forever together?

Alex made a weird sound of frustration - something of a cross between a groan and a growl and a sigh. It didn't even sound human; which was probably why Baz suddenly poked his head into the bedroom, barking at the man.

"Come here, boy." Alex mumbled, tapping the spot next to him on the bed.

The dog happily complied, jumping atop the mattress and then snuggling into Alex's lap, nuzzling his wet nose against Alex's stomach. Alex smiled, using his fingers to scratch the dog's head as his eyes went back to his phone screen.

"I don't know what to say, Baz." Alex murmured. Baz only blinked up at Alex in response. "Shit, man. What am I supposed to say? 'I went to England 'cause I'm so lost and confused so please leave me alone'? I don't even know if I want to be with her anymore."

Baz did nothing, making Alex sigh.

What was he thinking? That his dog would suddenly be able to talk and give him the advice he needed? Yeah, right.

He could just call Jack up, but advice from the lanky skunk-haired male would be useless. He would probably tell Alex to break it off completely, since even he - the notorious man-whore - knew what a fucked up and complicated relationship he and Lisa had. If he called Zack, he would more than likely get an "I don't know, man. Just, do what you think is right, or, like, what feels right." If he called Rian, he'd just get hung up on. Rian, although a fantastic best friend, was shit at giving relationship advice, despite having been in a relationship for the past three years. He could call Flyzik or Colussy, but they probably wouldn't know what to tell him, either.

Alex needed an outsider's perspective. Someone who didn't know Lisa and Alex as a couple.

A smile spread across his lips as an idea popped into his head.

I'm sorry for waking you up, again, but if I buy you coffee, would you be willing to listen to me rant and possibly give me some advice?

Sure...?

Alex grinned, tapping out a quick reply before he jumped off the bed and rushed to put on some proper clothing before he left to meet her. They said that bartenders were pretty good listeners and advice givers, right? It was time to put that theory to the test.