‹ Prequel: Weightless
Sequel: Situation Overload ›
Status: in progress
Always
Not Now
It was November 27th, 8.36am, when Bassam Barakat closed his eyes for the last time, the day after Jack had first gone to see him. Jack was literally 3 blocks away from the hospital, on his way to visit his father, when this happened.
Jack arrived, and instead of being lead off to his dad's hospital room, he was met with a sympathetic smile and a 'we're so sorry, Jack.' and he just broke down. He couldn't understand why he couldn't have seen him, just one last time. His sobs came out ugly, and irregular; choked, finding that oxygen just wasn't really working for him right now. He needed Alex, why on earth Alex had let him come here alone, Jack would never know. He had noone, so he trudged back to the Gaskarth-Fuentes household, nose pink, eyes sore, soul shattered.
Alex's mother must have guessed what had happened, as she pulled him in to a supportive hug, whispering a 'we're so sorry, Jack.' into his ear, a tear crawling down her own face. She was, afterall, one of Bassam's very few friends, not that they confided in one another, but they would occasionally engage in mediocre conversation, and that meant a lot to Bassam.
Jack texted Alex, alerting him of what had happened, but not wanting to call in case Alex was giving a lecture. Jack was going to have to arrange a funeral for his father in Baltimore, which meant he'd have to stay a few more days, and then have Alex fly over for the weekend. There really wouldn't be many people there, only Jack, Alex, Alex's mum and Vincent, maybe a few of Jack's friends would be able to make it, but that didn't make the funeral unnecessary.
Valerie had been living at Beau's a lot recently, as he didn't have a room mate, and so they had more privacy.
Alex called in sick that day, emotionally traumatized by the previous day. He wanted to call Jack as soon as he'd received the text, but he was too afraid he'd spill.
His phone buzzed again, for longer, indicating that someone was ringing him.
"H-hello?"
"Turn on MTV, sweetheart." it was the same voice. The same man. Alex knew it wasn't over, but he did as he was told.
" Right now, I think that you think that I'm half drunk, searching for something of substance, casually dropping a line, designed to keep you next to me I can't awkwardly craft in advance I know, that you wouldn't fall for that you say "Shut up and take my hand" and we carry on"
Those were his lyrics, on TV, being rapped by some band called 'Womb 2 Da Tomb', and played against some incredibly overused backbeat, alongside a tacky video of teen girls and boys, drinking and smoking, running around at night. Absolutely not what the song was about, and how they managed to get the song recorded and on TV within 24 hours, Alex will never know, but it was intimidating.
"It's airing on TV for the first time today, chart placements are out tomorrow, if it's not on the top 20 chart..." the man made a noise that represented the sound of bones breaking, and it went right through Alex's spine.
"B-but that's not w-what we agreed! Y-you just s-said I had t-to give y-you all m-my lyrics!" Alex cried.
"We didn't agree anything, you shit. This is my game, you play by my rules. I can't help it if you're crap at writing songs, but you can, so if it's not in the charts, somebody gets hurt. You give us a better song, if that's not in the charts, somebody gets hurt. Are you starting to detect a pattern here, sunshine?"
"Yes." Alex whimpered.
"Now, text your faggot boyfriend, or he'll get suspicious." The man ordered, his northern brutality really shining through.
"W-what should I s-say?"
"I don't know, I don't give a shit, he's your boyfriend. Figure it out." and the line went dead. So, Alex composed a simple message that included a few x's, a few hearts (that just happen to look like scrotum) and a casual 'we're so sorry, Jack' on behalf of him and Valerie, not that he'd spoken to her, but he assumed the sentiment would be there.
Alex didn't sleep that night either. He couldn't- not knowing that if the song didn't get on the charts, he was pretty much screwed, him and half the people he knew.
Jack fell asleep on the sofa, cuddling with Tom, watching Home Alone.
At 10am, the next day, a Saturday, Alex turned the television on, as this was the first showing of the charts that day. He was shaking with nerves.
20. Macklemore- Can't Hold Us
19. Clean Bandit- Rather Be
18. The 1975- Sex
17. Womb 2 Da Tomb- For Baltimore.
and the rest was blurred. Alex was so relieved. Would this mean he wouldn't have to give away any of his lyrics anymore? Would the man on the phone leave him alone?
"Hello?" Alex answered the phone anxiously.
"17th huh? Well. It was in the top 20, but 17th? Really? Shit, and I'm afraid I can't let that slide. So. Pick someone. Jack, your mother, Tom, Dan, Vic, Mike, Tay or Vincent. Who do you love the least?" the voice demanded.
"at the moment I'd say me.." Alex mumbled, trying to find a way out of the situation.
"What was that?"
"I said I love me the least." Alex admitted.
"Ooh. I like that idea. Why emotionally scarr you, one person, with many many deaths, lots of blood and gore, when we can emotionally ruin everybody that loves you, with one death?! Brilliant! You are a clever lad!" The voice grew excited. Alex wasn't too bothered about this new plan, because nobody would get hurt apart from him, and the 'emotional ruin' thing wasn't going to work because nobody loved Alex anyway, no-one would miss him, he'd be lucky if he's memory remained. At least that's what he thought. He couldn't see that so many people truly loved him. He was a fuck up. He got himself into this mess anyway, he didn't have anyone to blame, so he deserves to have to face the consequences. Well, that's how Alex saw it.
That was until 14:36, when Alex's phone beeped, the screen read 'EMAIL FROM BARAFAG', which Alex opened immediately.
'Hey babe, I'm coping better today, your family have been so lovely! Tom and I watched Home Alone last night- best movie ever! The church isn't available for funerals until two weeks tomorrow, so I guess that's when it'll be. Do you need me to come back? I don't mind it just might be a bit of a financial push. I love you so much, Lexy, and even though I only got to speak to him once, it was so much better than not at all, so thank you for encouraging me to come here as soon as I did.
Take care of yourself,
talk soon,
love,
your Jacko.
xxx.'
The words 'I love you so much' and 'take care of yourself' particularly stood out on the page, and strongly contradicted what Alex had been thinking earlier, about no-one loving him anyway. Maybe he was wrong. How would Jack handle his death? That needed thinking about. He didn't especially pass with flying colours when Alex was in a coma, it seemed as if it was all one continuous breakdown. Would it be selfish of Alex to just accept death and leave Jack alone here? But wouldnt it be worse if Jack was killed, leaving him alone here? Alex would hate for any harm to come to Jack.
After a long, and I mean long, think about, well, all of the above, Alex decided he couldn't just give in, he'd have to try to survive. Try for Jack.
'Hey Jacky,
Awh I'm glad to hear it, still sorry I can't be with you right now.
That's so sweet! Tell the fam I miss them tonnes.
Hm, I think you should stay there, it'll be easier to plan the funeral. My family won't mind, I'm sure they're glad to have you.
You're so welcome Jacky, I love you too, so so so much, never forget it.
Lots of love,
Lex xxx<3'
Pretend. That's all it was. Not lying, pretending.
Jack arrived, and instead of being lead off to his dad's hospital room, he was met with a sympathetic smile and a 'we're so sorry, Jack.' and he just broke down. He couldn't understand why he couldn't have seen him, just one last time. His sobs came out ugly, and irregular; choked, finding that oxygen just wasn't really working for him right now. He needed Alex, why on earth Alex had let him come here alone, Jack would never know. He had noone, so he trudged back to the Gaskarth-Fuentes household, nose pink, eyes sore, soul shattered.
Alex's mother must have guessed what had happened, as she pulled him in to a supportive hug, whispering a 'we're so sorry, Jack.' into his ear, a tear crawling down her own face. She was, afterall, one of Bassam's very few friends, not that they confided in one another, but they would occasionally engage in mediocre conversation, and that meant a lot to Bassam.
Jack texted Alex, alerting him of what had happened, but not wanting to call in case Alex was giving a lecture. Jack was going to have to arrange a funeral for his father in Baltimore, which meant he'd have to stay a few more days, and then have Alex fly over for the weekend. There really wouldn't be many people there, only Jack, Alex, Alex's mum and Vincent, maybe a few of Jack's friends would be able to make it, but that didn't make the funeral unnecessary.
Valerie had been living at Beau's a lot recently, as he didn't have a room mate, and so they had more privacy.
Alex called in sick that day, emotionally traumatized by the previous day. He wanted to call Jack as soon as he'd received the text, but he was too afraid he'd spill.
His phone buzzed again, for longer, indicating that someone was ringing him.
"H-hello?"
"Turn on MTV, sweetheart." it was the same voice. The same man. Alex knew it wasn't over, but he did as he was told.
" Right now, I think that you think that I'm half drunk, searching for something of substance, casually dropping a line, designed to keep you next to me I can't awkwardly craft in advance I know, that you wouldn't fall for that you say "Shut up and take my hand" and we carry on"
Those were his lyrics, on TV, being rapped by some band called 'Womb 2 Da Tomb', and played against some incredibly overused backbeat, alongside a tacky video of teen girls and boys, drinking and smoking, running around at night. Absolutely not what the song was about, and how they managed to get the song recorded and on TV within 24 hours, Alex will never know, but it was intimidating.
"It's airing on TV for the first time today, chart placements are out tomorrow, if it's not on the top 20 chart..." the man made a noise that represented the sound of bones breaking, and it went right through Alex's spine.
"B-but that's not w-what we agreed! Y-you just s-said I had t-to give y-you all m-my lyrics!" Alex cried.
"We didn't agree anything, you shit. This is my game, you play by my rules. I can't help it if you're crap at writing songs, but you can, so if it's not in the charts, somebody gets hurt. You give us a better song, if that's not in the charts, somebody gets hurt. Are you starting to detect a pattern here, sunshine?"
"Yes." Alex whimpered.
"Now, text your faggot boyfriend, or he'll get suspicious." The man ordered, his northern brutality really shining through.
"W-what should I s-say?"
"I don't know, I don't give a shit, he's your boyfriend. Figure it out." and the line went dead. So, Alex composed a simple message that included a few x's, a few hearts (that just happen to look like scrotum) and a casual 'we're so sorry, Jack' on behalf of him and Valerie, not that he'd spoken to her, but he assumed the sentiment would be there.
Alex didn't sleep that night either. He couldn't- not knowing that if the song didn't get on the charts, he was pretty much screwed, him and half the people he knew.
Jack fell asleep on the sofa, cuddling with Tom, watching Home Alone.
At 10am, the next day, a Saturday, Alex turned the television on, as this was the first showing of the charts that day. He was shaking with nerves.
20. Macklemore- Can't Hold Us
19. Clean Bandit- Rather Be
18. The 1975- Sex
17. Womb 2 Da Tomb- For Baltimore.
and the rest was blurred. Alex was so relieved. Would this mean he wouldn't have to give away any of his lyrics anymore? Would the man on the phone leave him alone?
"Hello?" Alex answered the phone anxiously.
"17th huh? Well. It was in the top 20, but 17th? Really? Shit, and I'm afraid I can't let that slide. So. Pick someone. Jack, your mother, Tom, Dan, Vic, Mike, Tay or Vincent. Who do you love the least?" the voice demanded.
"at the moment I'd say me.." Alex mumbled, trying to find a way out of the situation.
"What was that?"
"I said I love me the least." Alex admitted.
"Ooh. I like that idea. Why emotionally scarr you, one person, with many many deaths, lots of blood and gore, when we can emotionally ruin everybody that loves you, with one death?! Brilliant! You are a clever lad!" The voice grew excited. Alex wasn't too bothered about this new plan, because nobody would get hurt apart from him, and the 'emotional ruin' thing wasn't going to work because nobody loved Alex anyway, no-one would miss him, he'd be lucky if he's memory remained. At least that's what he thought. He couldn't see that so many people truly loved him. He was a fuck up. He got himself into this mess anyway, he didn't have anyone to blame, so he deserves to have to face the consequences. Well, that's how Alex saw it.
That was until 14:36, when Alex's phone beeped, the screen read 'EMAIL FROM BARAFAG', which Alex opened immediately.
'Hey babe, I'm coping better today, your family have been so lovely! Tom and I watched Home Alone last night- best movie ever! The church isn't available for funerals until two weeks tomorrow, so I guess that's when it'll be. Do you need me to come back? I don't mind it just might be a bit of a financial push. I love you so much, Lexy, and even though I only got to speak to him once, it was so much better than not at all, so thank you for encouraging me to come here as soon as I did.
Take care of yourself,
talk soon,
love,
your Jacko.
xxx.'
The words 'I love you so much' and 'take care of yourself' particularly stood out on the page, and strongly contradicted what Alex had been thinking earlier, about no-one loving him anyway. Maybe he was wrong. How would Jack handle his death? That needed thinking about. He didn't especially pass with flying colours when Alex was in a coma, it seemed as if it was all one continuous breakdown. Would it be selfish of Alex to just accept death and leave Jack alone here? But wouldnt it be worse if Jack was killed, leaving him alone here? Alex would hate for any harm to come to Jack.
After a long, and I mean long, think about, well, all of the above, Alex decided he couldn't just give in, he'd have to try to survive. Try for Jack.
'Hey Jacky,
Awh I'm glad to hear it, still sorry I can't be with you right now.
That's so sweet! Tell the fam I miss them tonnes.
Hm, I think you should stay there, it'll be easier to plan the funeral. My family won't mind, I'm sure they're glad to have you.
You're so welcome Jacky, I love you too, so so so much, never forget it.
Lots of love,
Lex xxx<3'
Pretend. That's all it was. Not lying, pretending.