Status: Work in Progress, slow updates—hopefully once a week.
Beautiful Disaster
Two.
“I remember that it hurt,” he started, answering the ‘tell me what you know about Jack Barakat’ question, “seeing him hurt.” He quoted the movie for his own enjoyment, rather than that of the others in the room. He said others because he knew how these short of things went. While he was supposed to believe that himself and the detective, specialist, whomever—he hadn't paid attention when they introduced themselves—in front of him were the only people who could hear him, he knew better.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, despite what everyone believed about Jack, what happened wasn’t random. Everybody has their breaking point.”
“So are you saying that he reached his?”
“I’m saying that he reached his a long time ago, and was like a ticking time bomb.”
“Premedi—”
“No, don’t twist my words,” he nearly spat, “I guess they’ve told you nothing about him, hmm? Then again, who would? No one pays attention to him. His older sister has already moved out of the house—college, his parents are both doctors, and he’s responsible for his younger brother. Don’t get me wrong, his parents try, but it’s hard when they’re both doctors in different ERs.”
“What about friends, surely he had friends?”
“Had?”
Why was he talking about Jack like he'd died?
“Has—sorry. Surely, he has friends.”
“I’m his friend, I’m his boyfriend.”
“Are you his only friend?”
“Yes,” Alex sighed exasperatedly. How many different ways could he say the same thing before he was heard?
“I think we’ve got off topic, tell me more about Jack, you said you were going to start off with how he was when you met him, things like that.”
“Right,” Alex took a pause then, and was silent for a long, long while, before he resumed.
“It was like it was a movie, when I first saw him. God, he looked beautiful, so, so beautiful. He was sitting on the window ledge of our school library, reading his favorite book A Tale of Two Cities. He said, he said it was his favorite because of Carton. Oh, I…” Alex fumbled over his words for a moment, his cheeks burning a bright pink. Maybe he was getting emotional.
“When I walked up to him, I said ‘what are you reading?’ His eyes were bright when he turned around, he said, ‘no one ever talks to me.’ I remember how it felt when I heard that because my heart sunk, no one should ever have to feel that way, especially not someone as beautiful as him. ‘I’m talking to you, and my name is Alex, not no one.’ He laughed; it was the best sound I’d heard all day. ‘I just meant that like a literal zero people talk to me, all day,’ he responded. A sad smile had settled on his lips, as if he was used to relaying that information.”
“Do you need a tissue?”
What? Oh. He was crying, and the realization made him sob harder. He denied the tissue, but was handed and took one anyway.
“Oh, god, Jack,” he sobbed pitifully. He hated himself for being so weak, in this moment, and he hated Jack.
No, no.
Even in his mind, he couldn’t say the words and mean them, he just couldn’t.
“Are you okay to continue on?”
No, he wasn’t fucking okay to continue on.
He could feel the hatred seeping in from the outside world, through the cracks in the wall and the space where the door didn't touch the ground, filtering into the air and suffocating him. He knew that by now, the entire state, and maybe the entire nation had heard of what Jack had done and had already made their judgments. His Jack, his beautiful, baby angel, Jack. They were tearing him down, calling him a monster. He really wasn’t though, he was kind and gentle sweet but battered and bruised and badly broken and just needed love and tenderness and care and attention. Jack needed to be held and caressed, each of his internal wounds needed to be dressed and cared for; he needed to be told that he wouldn’t hurt forever, that he wouldn’t be broken forever, that they would stop, one day—that he would just get a break from life, one day.
And he needed Alex to be there to do all of those things for him.
“Where’s Jack? Where is Jack? I need to see him; I need to tell him that I love him.”
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean, I can’t?”
“Because Jack Barakat is a criminal and he is currently going through booking.”
Criminal. The word—label—made Alex sick.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, despite what everyone believed about Jack, what happened wasn’t random. Everybody has their breaking point.”
“So are you saying that he reached his?”
“I’m saying that he reached his a long time ago, and was like a ticking time bomb.”
“Premedi—”
“No, don’t twist my words,” he nearly spat, “I guess they’ve told you nothing about him, hmm? Then again, who would? No one pays attention to him. His older sister has already moved out of the house—college, his parents are both doctors, and he’s responsible for his younger brother. Don’t get me wrong, his parents try, but it’s hard when they’re both doctors in different ERs.”
“What about friends, surely he had friends?”
“Had?”
Why was he talking about Jack like he'd died?
“Has—sorry. Surely, he has friends.”
“I’m his friend, I’m his boyfriend.”
“Are you his only friend?”
“Yes,” Alex sighed exasperatedly. How many different ways could he say the same thing before he was heard?
“I think we’ve got off topic, tell me more about Jack, you said you were going to start off with how he was when you met him, things like that.”
“Right,” Alex took a pause then, and was silent for a long, long while, before he resumed.
“It was like it was a movie, when I first saw him. God, he looked beautiful, so, so beautiful. He was sitting on the window ledge of our school library, reading his favorite book A Tale of Two Cities. He said, he said it was his favorite because of Carton. Oh, I…” Alex fumbled over his words for a moment, his cheeks burning a bright pink. Maybe he was getting emotional.
“When I walked up to him, I said ‘what are you reading?’ His eyes were bright when he turned around, he said, ‘no one ever talks to me.’ I remember how it felt when I heard that because my heart sunk, no one should ever have to feel that way, especially not someone as beautiful as him. ‘I’m talking to you, and my name is Alex, not no one.’ He laughed; it was the best sound I’d heard all day. ‘I just meant that like a literal zero people talk to me, all day,’ he responded. A sad smile had settled on his lips, as if he was used to relaying that information.”
“Do you need a tissue?”
What? Oh. He was crying, and the realization made him sob harder. He denied the tissue, but was handed and took one anyway.
“Oh, god, Jack,” he sobbed pitifully. He hated himself for being so weak, in this moment, and he hated Jack.
No, no.
Even in his mind, he couldn’t say the words and mean them, he just couldn’t.
“Are you okay to continue on?”
No, he wasn’t fucking okay to continue on.
He could feel the hatred seeping in from the outside world, through the cracks in the wall and the space where the door didn't touch the ground, filtering into the air and suffocating him. He knew that by now, the entire state, and maybe the entire nation had heard of what Jack had done and had already made their judgments. His Jack, his beautiful, baby angel, Jack. They were tearing him down, calling him a monster. He really wasn’t though, he was kind and gentle sweet but battered and bruised and badly broken and just needed love and tenderness and care and attention. Jack needed to be held and caressed, each of his internal wounds needed to be dressed and cared for; he needed to be told that he wouldn’t hurt forever, that he wouldn’t be broken forever, that they would stop, one day—that he would just get a break from life, one day.
And he needed Alex to be there to do all of those things for him.
“Where’s Jack? Where is Jack? I need to see him; I need to tell him that I love him.”
“You can’t.”
“What do you mean, I can’t?”
“Because Jack Barakat is a criminal and he is currently going through booking.”
Criminal. The word—label—made Alex sick.
♠ ♠ ♠
I think these updates will be relatively short, no more than two or so pages, so that I can maybe update quicker. We shall see. Let me know that you think, please. (: