Lonely, Drunk and Beautiful

I awaken with a start, in an unfamiliar room which is cloaked in darkness. An overpowering stench of vanilla is burning my nostrils, spurts of pine scented polish making my eyes water.
I’m on a couch. Shit. Who’s couch did I crash out on?
Alex’s, I realise with a start, and swing my legs off the soft material, socks sliding all too smoothly across the hardwood floor and causing me to fall on my ass.
I hear a groan from the other dark shape across the room and freeze, eyes fixed on a lump of blankets sprawled across the other couch.
Another moan comes from the shape, and curiosity gets the best of me. I slide over and gingerly stand up, awkwardly bending over the sofa.
A flustered looking Alex is lay in front of me, only wearing boxers and a ridden-up shirt.
Boxers which he’s currently tenting in.
I try to tear my eyes away, I really do, because fuck, if Alex wakes up and happens to notice the tall ass silhouette looming over him, it’ll be so fucking awkward…
But Alex lets out another moan, shifting his hips slightly, cheeks stained red, taking short shallow breaths, and fuck, that’s hot.
I stay there for five entire minutes, feeling more creepy by the second but unable to tear myself away, until Alex lets out the loudest moan yet, which just happens to have “Jack” entwined with it.
I stagger back, mouth falling open, and clumsily run for the door, shoving my feet into the wrong shoes and throwing myself towards the front door.
“J-Jack?” a confused voice asks from the living room, around the same moment I collide with the shoe rack and fall over.
I yank myself up, pulling the door open and fleeing from the groan of dismay in the living room.

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I get home in less than twenty minutes, having sprinted blindly until I found something familiar.
I explode through the front door, panting like a dog, keys in hand.
I throw the keys on the side, hurrying to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water and downing half of it.
My head is swimming, so I drink even more water, running a hand through my hair.
I hurry upstairs after downing the lot, shedding clothes as I go, and flick the shower on.
I put the water at a normal temperature for once, and step in, letting my mind return to what just happened.
Feeling myself harden, I groan, my eyes closing and head falling against the wet, condensed wall.
I let my hand snake down, grasping my dick and jerking up and down. I get increasingly faster until I’m gasping for breath, eyes rolling back a little as I blow my load and drop to the floor with a huge exhale.

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An hour later, I finally emerge from the shower, hands pruned, hair dripping and toothbrush in my mouth.
It’s nine o’clock, and I decide to make an appearance in school.
I pull on boxers, violently towel-dry my hair, spit the toothbrush out and rinse my mouth.
I yank on a pair of black skinny jeans, white tee and black leather jacket, style my hair, grab my keys and head out.

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Having to walk makes me about half an hour later, and everyone turns to stare as I crush an empty can of Red Bull and toss it into the bin after bursting in.
I drop into my seat without a word, ignoring the stares and the dirty look my teacher sends my way.

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I don’t see Alex again until lunch.
I wander across the football field, debating whether or not to cut fifth and sixth, and zone out. Naturally, this results in me tripping over my own laces and once again falling over. And as soon as I hear snorts of laughter coming from behind me, I know who it is.
I glance up, seeing Alex’s silhouette moving steadily towards me as three of his friends scatter, expecting him to get slaughtered for laughing.
Instead, I stare at the grass in front of me, ignoring the fact that frost is pressed into my ass.
“For someone who’s allegedly the most intimidating person to ever exist, you sure are clumsy.” Alex comments with a smirk, sitting down next to me.
“It’s freezing here.” I mutter, going to get up, but Alex grabs my sleeve, pulling me back down.
“You didn’t seem too bothered about the cold when you ran out this morning.” he murmurs, and I swallow, because I really can’t tear my eyes away when Alex looks at me like that.
My face is inches away from Alex’s, who’s hazelnut eyes are lingering a little too long on my lips, a perfect, mischievous grin playing on his own.
I make eye contact with him, and the intensity of the sparks that I see almost knock me out.
Alex lets his head drift just a little bit, about to close the distance between us.
And eyes are on me.
I shove Alex away, in just the right way so his face connecting with the ground will leave a purple bruise under his eye.
I stand over him, muttering apologies over and over, desperately trying to sound sincere without losing the threatening, warning edge to my voice that the impostors are listening for.
And then I force myself to storm away, guilt pouring from my ears, an odd burning behind my eyes, and self-loathing bubbling in my every cell.
The impostors turn out to be Alex’s friends, and the one time I allow myself to glance back, they appear to have bought my act, helping Alex up, who’s rubbing his cheek and shooting me a look of hurt confusion.
I turn away, retreating back to school.

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Anger overtakes soon after.
I hurl over a bin, slamming my very bruised hand into the concrete wall of the school.
Blood begins to drip from my re-opened knuckles, and I throw open the door, splattering it everywhere.
People throw themselves out of the way as I storm down the corridor, hitting random lockers as I go.
My hand feels like it’s on fire now, the heat beginning to thaw my anger. It’s not enough though.
I throw myself around the corner, putting my fist through the plasterboard wall. I punch it again and again, until the cuts in my hand turn to gashes and my hand becomes frozen in a fist, and I keep on punching anyway.
“Jack, stop.”
I go to hit whoever just spoke to me, but they block me easily. The impact of a hand on my destroyed knuckle makes me bite my lip, hard, until my mouth tastes like copper.
I go to hit the wall again but tightening my hand again sends me into a dizzy spell, and I stagger, sliding down the wall and burying my head in my hands.
Someone sits down next to me, and I raise my head, ignoring the fact that my cheeks are wet.
Ariel gives me the same soft, sad smile, reaching out her own hand.
I let my head hit against the wall, offering my hurt hand out for her to inspect.
She winces, and I look down, because she never winces.
My knuckles have already ballooned. The small portion of skin that isn’t covered with blood is covered with puddles of dark purple and blue. I can’t move my fingers without it being agonising.
“Looks broken.” she says, unnecessarily, and I shrug, because I really, honest to god, don’t care.
“What put you in a mood this time then?” he asks, half-joking, and I scowl.
“Alex tried to kiss me and I punched him.” I say shortly, and her mouth falls open.
“You punched him?!”
“Pushed him. It looked like I punched him. The bruise he gets tomorrow will back me up.” I mutter.
“Why in god’s name did you punch him?”
“There were people.”
She lets out a heartfelt groan.
“Jack, you need to let this love of being feared go!”
I scowl.
“If they're scared of me, they can’t hurt me. Won’t hurt me.” I say stubbornly, and she sighs.
“Jack, not everyone is out to get you.”
“You don’t know that. You have no idea.” I say darkly.
She leans against my shoulder, and I twitch away.
“You should probably go to the hospital.” she says, after a minute.
“Probably.” I answer absently, making no attempt to move.
“C’mon. I’ll cut class, come with you.” she offer, climbing to her feet and offering a hand.
I stare at my probably broken hand, and then back at her, an eyebrow raised.
“Newsflash Jacky. You have two hands. Use the other one.” she says slowly.
I grab her hand, reluctantly, allowing her to pull me to my feet.
“Don’t call me that.”
She winks cheekily at me, and I sigh, following her down the corridor.
This is going to be a long ass night.