Hell Above

It takes more effort than the blonde would like to admit to pull himself up off of the motel’s floor after he comes to. He heaves himself into a standing position, ignoring the pain that flares up as he bends down again to collect his discarded clothes. The action causes him to wince as he slips back into his jeans.

Alex makes his way toward the room’s adjoined bathroom, leaning against the counter for support as he assess the damage to his body in the mirror. His jaw is already starting to swell, and he can tell it’s going to bruise there from where he was punched. The inside of his mouth tastes like blood, but Alex can’t tell if the metallic taste is from where he split his lip or if he managed to bite through the inside of his cheek as well.

He’s winded by the time he makes it onto the street, arm crossed over his chest protectively to grip his aching side. He pulls his jacket tighter around him, the action proving useless when it falls open again, exposing him to the harsh winds through his thin tee. He raises his free hand to hail down an approaching cab.

The driver doesn't bother questioning the bruises splayed across Alex’s face or how breathless the blonde is as he tells the man his address, just nods in recognition and pulls off of the curb into the midnight traffic.

Alex stays quiet during the ride, eyes closed, body slumped against the tacky vinyl of the backseat. He keeps his hand pressed tight against his side, trying to ease the sharp pain that erupts in his ribs each time he inhales. Shutting out the light outside the car windows helps to dull the tenderness behind his eyes, but it doesn't last long.

He doesn't realize he’s shaking until the car pulls to a stop outside of Jack’s building and it takes him nearly three tries to hand over the cab fare over how badly his hands are trembling. He wants to apologize, but the driver is glaring at him and Alex isn't sure he’d be able to get the words out if he tried. So he just forks over the money, stumbling out of the cab and onto the sidewalk a moment later.

The lobby is empty, save for a lone woman that he passes as she steps out of the elevator before he steps in. The mirrors lining the compact space force Alex to face his reflection, staring back at himself as the first tears fall, burning their way across his bruised cheeks. He swallows, choking back a ragged breath before bowing his head to fix his sore eyes on his shoes.

It hadn't occurred to him until the elevator doors slide open on the right floor that he’s going to have to face Jack. His only concern up until this point had just been getting home, but now that he’s here he wishes he had somewhere else to go. He doesn't want the younger man to see him like this, doesn't want the concern and interrogation that he knows he’s about to walk into.

Alex is positive the shaking of his hands has increased, this being proven again by the multiple times it takes him to jam the key into the apartment door once he makes it there. He staggers into the apartment, a wave of nausea passing over him as he pauses in the doorway.

He pushes the door closed after he steps passed the threshold, taking a step backward to lean against it as he calls out, “Jack?” to the visibly empty apartment. His voice is strained, and if it wasn't obvious by looking at him how bashed up he is, then his voice is dead giveaway. When he gets no response, there’s a sharp twist in his gut that he knows isn't from the damage his ribs took earlier.

He tries again, calling the younger’s name a bit louder, an edge of undeniable desperation coating the word, but again, it comes back empty.

He pulls his phone out from his back pocket, sliding the lock across the screen with anxious fingers. Noticing the small notification displaying a new message, he taps it open to read; “Staying late with Vin. Text me when you get home <3(:”

Alex pushes himself up off the door, crossing the living room with a tight chest. He has to use the wall to brace himself against as he stumbles down the hallway, entering the bedroom without stopping until he’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Reaching out, he flicks the light on, squinting at the harshness of the light overhead.

He doesn't hesitate, nor does he think it through, as he stands before the sink, dumping his phone and keys onto the counter before ripping open the medicine cabinet, causing a few bottles to fall out in his haste. At this point he’s full on sobbing, vision blurred and breathing strained from the pain and discomfort he’s experiencing.

The stinging of his ribs is agonizing, coupled with the piercing feeling running up his spine. If he were thinking logically, Alex would probably consider going to a hospital.

But he’s not thinking logically; he’s not thinking at all.

He takes a step back, wet eyes scanning over the labels on the bottles across the cabinet’s shelves. Alex swallows, trying to concentrate on controlling his breathing as his eyes zero in on the bottle he’s searching for. Another sob rips its way up his throat, causing him to choke on his breath midway through, and he’s quick to reach out for the medicine bottle.

He ignores the stinging behind his eyes, blinking back angry tears to clear his vision. The action simply brings on a new wave of them, the old ones rolling down his cheeks faster. He feels disgusting, filthy and unable to control himself as he works to open the bottle’s cap, hasty, uncoordinated fingers failing him as he tries to twist it open.

The blonde is growing increasingly frustrated with himself, almost ready to toss the bottle down and call it quits, but he knows if he does that the pain he’s in won’t end and with Jack not here to stop him, he’s going to go through with this.

After numerous attempts, the cap finally twists loose under his hand. It’s a weak victory though, because a second later his shaking hands make the bottle’s contents spill out onto the counter, a few of the pills falling and rolling across the tile at his feet.

Alex completely disregards the mess, scooping up a few into his hand and raising them to his mouth. He sucks his lip in between his teeth, staring down at the pills in his hand.

He sucks in a deep breath, the fresh air burning his lungs as his mind ticks over. Jack’s confession from the previous night is ringing in his head, the younger’s words making him pause in his haste. He looks at the pills again, realizing for the first time the entire extent of what he was about to do.

He can’t do this. He can’t do this to Jack.

How could he even consider doing this? How fucking selfish could he be, to consider swallowing a handful of pills and leaving the Jack to clean up the mess? Jack, who’s in love with him.

Alex flings the pills down, watching as they scatter over the countertop, falling onto the floor and into the sink. He takes a deep breath, trying to get some air back into his lungs, but the intake causes a sharp surge of pain to rip at his chest.

The blonde coughs, choking on his breath and doubling over the sink to lean on the counter for support. He tries to focus his vision on the stark white of the counter, but his head is pounding incredibly and he’s growing increasingly unsteady in his movements.

He closes his eyes, resting his head on his arms as he realizes that this is all his fault. If only he’d quit months ago, or even years ago. But he was too stubborn and selfish and scared to do as Jack had wanted, and now he’s paying ultimately for it.

He feels physically sick, nauseous and dizzy like he could breakdown any second now. He knows he’s leading up to that, but the only thing he can focus on now is the string of confessions that Jack had spoken to him the night before.

He wishes now that Jack had told him sooner, because maybe if he’d known then he wouldn't be here right now, wouldn't have let tonight happen. He knows that’s not true, and yet the only thing he can think is a constant of Jack loves me, and how blind he must be to not have known.

He straightens up, pushing his weight away from the counter and swaying dangerously as he tries to get his balance. Inhaling, Alex tries to catch his breath, but it’s futile. He’s hit with another wave of dizziness, and this time he’s unable to keep himself steady.

He collapses onto the tile, every inch of his body aching, but it’s not long until he doesn't feel it anymore.