Rescue Me

It was Jack’s own fault, really. If he’d just told Alex how he was feeling; if he’d just been honest and open about his emotions for once… they wouldn’t be here right now.

Well, no, that’s not entirely true. Telling Alex how he felt probably wouldn’t make much of a difference—he doesn’t think it would, at least—but if he’d just been a bit more careful… God, how he despised airport security.

“You’re sure it’s all the right size? If it’s too big or something, I’ll get delayed and have to toss it, and that would really suck,” Alex said as he threw last-minute necessities into his suitcase, which was lying open on the bed next to his carry on.

“I’m absolutely positive,” Jack confirmed with a sigh as he looked down to the bottles of Alex’s numerous hair care products, which he’d had to measure out precisely so that nothing happened to make the elder miss his flight.

Alex heard the sad, little twinge in his boyfriend’s voice, and he stopped his pacing to kneel on the ground in front of the taller, who was sat slouched forward on the edge of the mattress.

“Hey,” he cooed, left hand being placed on Jack’s thigh so that he wouldn’t fall over as his right hand crept up to brush the younger’s hair from his face before the pads of his fingers lightly swept across his beau’s cheek. He waited until Jack looked up before he continued. “I know it fucking sucks that I gotta leave after being home for less than a week, but I gotta do this, baby. If there was any other way I could treat you like a princess without having to leave you so often, I would fucking pounce at the opportunity. You know that.”

“Why can’t I just go with you? We could just sell the house and travel the world, just the two of us,” Jack practically pleaded, placing his own hands to lay gingerly over both of Alex’s, keeping the other man in place and nuzzling the palm pressed into his cheek.

“I’ve already told you why,” Alex said with a sigh, only slight annoyance hinting at his words. “It’s not even half as great as you think it is. Don’t get me wrong, I would fucking adore it if you were always there with me, but it gets really stressful, really fast. I’m very rarely not in some giant meeting room talking with the other heads of the company, and when I am able to have a moment to myself, I’m either asleep at the hotel or half-asleep and talking to you. I know I’m not giving you even half the amount of attention you deserve, but fuck, Jack, I’m trying so hard here. I want to make everything work for us; I want us to be so financially stable that I can buy you the world, and it’s… it’s just a lot, Jay.”

Jack wasn’t all too sure how they’d even gotten to that point, but he nodded all the same. “I know,” he mumbled, shifting his eyes from Alex’s and down to his lap.

Alex pulled his hand from under Jack’s own on the younger’s thigh, only to lace their fingers together and squeeze lightly. “I love you,” he reminded the other man, smiling gently when their gazes connected once more.

Jack, despite everything, despite how he felt so god damn alone and unwanted—even with his boyfriend directly in front of him, even after what he’d just been told—couldn’t help but let his own little grin take over as he replied, “I love you, too.”

“You gotta smile more often for me,” Alex demanded softly. “Lets me know that what I’m doing is right for us.”

With that, the older male was climbing to his feet once more, ducking in for a quick kiss as his left hand moved from Jack’s again, yet returning immediately to rub the younger’s thigh comfortingly through his skinny jeans, the tips of his right hand’s fingers caressing the taller’s cheek lovingly.

“One day,” he breathed as their lips parted, foreheads leaning together like magnets, “I’m gonna take you everywhere. We’ll get married in Paris, dine in Dubai, walk through New Zealand… and we won’t have to worry about money or work or being apart. It’ll just be us, and we can finally live happily ever after.”

Jack was tempted to retort, bring up the fact that life, especially theirs, isn’t like a fairy tale and wouldn’t end anything like that at all. But the way Alex sounded so determined, voice dreamlike as he imagined the perfect future, Jack decided it’d be the best for everyone if he just kept quiet—something he was all too used to doing.

“That day’s gonna be real soon, baby,” Alex vowed softly, pressing another kiss to his boyfriend’s lips. “And as soon as I know we’ll be able to do all these things and not have to worry will be the day that I quit and come home to you for good. I promise.”

A small, “Okay,” was all Jack could manage, and Alex kissed him a final time for good measure.

Checking the clock, Alex saw that he still had a little over an hour before he had to leave—if he wanted to be early, that is—and he made a split-second decision.

“Can you finish packing my last few things for me?” he asked, already moving away to grab his wallet and car keys. “I’ll go get Taco Bell and we can share a romantic mid-morning brunch type thing before I have to go.”

Jack didn’t look up, but Alex could see the grin the younger tried to (vainly) stifle, and he took that as a ‘yes.’ Walking back over to his boyfriend, Alex pressed a kiss to his hair, muttered a quick, “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” and then left the house, completely disregarding an ‘I love you,’ which only one of the two men saw as something of an issue.

After the front door had clicked into place behind the elder, Jack took a look around, going through his mental checklist and making sure that Alex had everything he could possibly need. When he was positive nothing was out of place, he let his thoughts do a dangerous thing: wander.

He thought about everything, from how his depression was only getting worse with each passing day, how he felt like he was drowning with no surface in sight, how Alex didn’t actually love him and was simply using him as a cheap housekeeper who would also willingly put-out whenever it was asked of him—which is where all the faux compliments and empty promises came in handy.

He thought about his life, about how he’d gone from being named the Class Clown of his senior year to hardly finding the energy to get out of bed and greet an empty house each morning.

He thought about how much he genuinely loved Alex, how that love actually hurt him, and he thought about how it wasn’t worth it. Surely Alex was cheating on his business trips, with girls and guys who were younger and full of life. He didn’t see the point in being with Alex since he knew that was the case, and that, in turn, had him realizing that he didn’t really have much of a point in continuing on with life.

Before he was even sure what he was doing, Jack was up and hunting for a piece of paper and a pen. After writing a quick note, he was placing it on the inside of Alex’s carry on, stuffed messily between his hair supplies. It was just as he was zipping the case shut that the front door opened up again.

“Sir, you need to dispose of those bottles,” a security worker said as Alex’s carry on passed through the scanner, and the young man shook his head in annoyed disbelief.

“I fly every other week, sometimes more,” he explained. “I know how much I can and can’t carry.”

“The rules were changed only just yesterday, actually,” the older man countered with a shrug, and Alex nearly reached out to slap him because fucking seriously? He was here no more than three fucking days ago! “Now you can only have half of that amount. You either gotta step outta line and take care of it right here or you can go and take it up with the head of security.”

Alex could only gape at the man before huffing angrily under his breath as he grabbed his bag and moved to where he’d been silently directed to stand.

God, how he despised—

A slip of paper, folded in half with his name written sloppily—yet so very cutely—across the front, caught his attention from where it was squished between two bottles, and he focused on that instead of the previous task he’d set out to accomplish. Screw being late, Jack had taken the time to leave him a note and he wanted to know what it said.

‘Alex,’ it read, and it was a little weird to the young man, having Jack write a note to him and using his (partially) full name not only once, but twice. Usually he would write Lexy or Lex or some other girly variation of the name.

‘I don’t know what I’m doing right now. I don’t know what I’m doing with my life or what I ever planned on doing, but whatever it was, I can’t do anymore. Living just… it hurts. When I was younger, I never really understood what everyone meant by that. How can being alive without being injured hurt so much? How can you feel pain from it?

‘I was naïve then, obviously. Just being alive should make you happy. Well, that’s what I used to think. I don’t know where everything changed, where it all went wrong, but it’s too late to fix now. You probably don’t even care, but I feel like this is a sort of closure. Something that I need to do before I go on with anything else.

‘I’ve already called Rian and Zack to have them come over so that they’ll find me and I’ll at least be gone by the time you get back from your trip. I’ll try and not make too much of a mess or anything, and I’ll even leave a note explaining everything so that no one thinks you had a part in this.

‘I love you; I’m sorry.’

Alex felt like time had stopped before everything was kicking into complete overdrive, and he was soon sprinting through the crowds of people moving in the opposite direction as he raced towards the front door of the airport, disregarding his belongings and instead focusing on the piece of paper still clutched tightly in his hand. He could hear people yelling at him to slow down, to stop or the consequences would be even worse, but he didn’t care. What consequence could possibly be higher than losing his boyfriend to suicide?

It was as he was running from the building, surprisingly not being stopped (or hit by a car as he ran across the parking lot), that he thought of something. He couldn’t quite remember where he’d heard it, but it just had him diving into his car impossibly faster, key being shoved into the ignition and wheels screeching against the pavement as he peeled from the spot.

Every 14.2 minutes, someone in the United States dies by suicide.

He would be damned if his Jack was one of the millions of people to die by their own hands.

Alex wasn’t sure how long he’d even been gone, how long it would take him to get back to the house, and he was just hoping that the younger wouldn’t go through with anything for at least another twenty minutes. All he needed was twenty minutes.

Taking roads he knew were less likely to be monitored by cops or crowded by other cars and pedestrians somehow managed to take longer than any of the main roads—probably—would've, but he was in too much of a rush to truly worry about how many minutes, the one thing he should've been focused on, had slipped past him.

When he eventually reached their house, he barely had the car to a complete stop before he was throwing himself from the driver’s side and scrambling towards the front door. It was unlocked, as he figured, and he called out his boyfriend’s name—only to see him with a cord that he’d probably found in the garage around his neck and hanging from a beam in the ceiling, small stool under his feet.

The shock of hearing Alex’s voice from behind him caused Jack to jump in surprise, which doubled as a kick to the stool beneath him. Everything moved in slow motion: the stand moving from under Jack’s feet, the younger’s widened, bloodshot eyes meeting Alex’s own, the choked noise he made as his weight crashed against his only support.

It was mere seconds before Alex was diving into the room, both arms wrapping around Jack’s legs and lifting him up, only ducking down to grab the stool now lying a few feet away on its side as Jack kicked and struggled, sobs ripping from his sore throat.

“Let me go, please, let me go,” the younger begged weakly, voice ragged, arms doing their best to push his boyfriend away.

“Jack, stop!” Alex snapped, and the younger did so right away, only the sounds of his coughs and sniffles filling the air around them.

When the stool was securely under Jack’s feet once more, Alex slowly loosened his grip, backing up a few feet to look up to the younger, whose eyes were squeezed shut, hands trembling at his sides and clenched in tight fists. Alex wasn’t sure how he himself was able to be so calm, what with the fact that he’d almost been too late, but he found himself saying, “I’m gonna go get something to cut you down with. Don’t you dare move, do you understand me?”

When the taller man nodded, Alex reached out to brush the pads of his fingers against the back of his boyfriend’s hand, just to be sure that yes, he was still alive. With that simple reassurance, Alex jogged from the front hall and into the kitchen, pulling open every drawer he came into contact with until he found a steak knife that he figured would work.

He wasn’t very mindful of the sharp object clutched in his palm as he ran back, but he made it in one piece, immediately setting about cutting the other man down. As soon as the last few, frayed strands snapped away, the knife was tossed from them—the flooring scratching horribly in the process—and Jack was pulled down into the elder’s arms, the two ending up in a heap of limbs on the ground.

“What were you doing?” Alex scolded softly, only just barely finding it in himself to sit up and cradle the younger against his chest, rocking their bodies back and forth soothingly as Jack continued to cry. “What were you thinking? Don’t you ever do that to me again. Jesus Christ, Jack, what could’ve possibly been going through your head?”

“I don’t know,” Jack whimpered, burying his face further into his boyfriend’s neck, shaking hands curled almost on the verge of too tightly in the front of the elder’s shirt.

“Do you even know what I just went through? You scared me so fucking bad, fucking hell…”

“I don't know, Alex, I'm sorry. I don't know,” he heard Jack choke out, and he shook his head, squeezing his boy impossibly closer.

“It’s okay, baby,” he assured gently, allowing the fingers of his right hand to stroke whatever flesh they came across in what he prayed was a comforting manner. “You’re okay, baby; we’re okay.”

“I’m not okay,” Jack disagreed, and that had the sobs coming even faster. “I’m not okay.”

“But you’re gonna be fine,” Alex assured. “We’re gonna get you help, and I’m gonna stay home more often, and you can come with me on trips, just… fuck, just please don’t do that again,” the elder begged, nuzzling his face in Jack’s disheveled locks, breathing in deeply. “Do you even know what I would’ve done if I hadn’t gotten here in time? Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have cared?”

When Jack nodded, Alex could feel his heart shattering again.

“Well, that’s not true,” he insisted, and when Jack didn’t make a move to disagree or change the subject, he continued on, whether the still-crying boy was paying him any mind at all or not. “I don’t just say I love you for the hell of it. I don’t want you to be hurt, and I’m not gonna let you feel like this again. Hear me? I’m gonna make it all better, baby, I promise.”

Jack could only sniffle and snuggle further into his boyfriend, allowing his mind to blank out as he truly relaxed for the first time in what felt like years.

------

A little less than ten months later and both boys are still together. The difference now, however, is the fact that Alex had quit his job, Jack had started therapy, and they had sold the house, now just traveling the world, seeing and doing things Jack would've never imagined possible.

They’d planned on getting married in Paris, as Alex had suggested on… The Day, as they refer to it… but Jack had decided he actually preferred the wide, rolling hills of New Zealand, and he’d rather walk the streets of Paris instead.

He doesn’t feel alone now; he doesn’t feel unwanted. He also doesn’t think he needs therapy anymore either, since it’s generally just over-the-phone appointments whenever he needs someone to vent to—if he doesn’t want that someone to be Alex—but the elder wants Jack to continue on, even if it’s for only just a little longer.

Alex doesn’t take everything he has for granted; doesn’t expect Jack to always be there, and though it’s a hard truth to swallow, he manages. He’s learned that no matter what comes their way, they just have to go minute-by-minute and take on everything that comes at them.

Despite this new philosophy on their life, however, he doesn't count each minute as it passes them by because he’s also learned that life is not made up of minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, or years, but of moments. He has to experience each one—each one with Jack—before he can truly appreciate it.