A Daydream Away

Jack's POV

I think Christmas was an overall success. I'd gone all out with the presents, trying to suck up to all of my family. I'd given my parents a paid vacation to Hawaii because they need the de-stressing, May a voucher for an all day spa, and Joe a weekend in Vegas. Alex's present would come later, because I wanted that moment to be special and to not be ruined.

What made my heart grow warm was, even though they didn't know a whole lot about Alex a few days ago, my family had all gotten him something for the Holiday. He was given a plate of home-made Christmas candy from May, a few guitar picks (which he slightly teared up at since he still didn't have his) from Joe, and an ugly Christmas sweater from my parents, which said "Honorary Barakat" and had an image of two deer humping each other below it. Smooth, guys.

All of us kids had also received a bottle of our favorite alcohol, Alex getting the same thing as me because my parents, or Santa as they still claim to be the one giving us the presents, didn't know what he liked. Hey, if he didn't like it, more for me. What can I say, I mean, I own a bar for God's sake. I like my alcohol.

I felt like most of the day consisted of light-hearted conversations, laughing, drinking, and general good fun. I can't remember the last time I enjoyed this day this much, other than the time I received a shirt with Kevin McCallister's face on it when I was thirteen. I had a strong feeling it had something to do with Alex.

The past few years, the routine went like this; I'd come, have small talk with my family, endure their drilling on "have you found someone yet?", drink myself silly to block out their annoying pestering, and, in the end, I'd find myself sad and miserable by the time it was time for me to leave. I'd be out the door faster than you'd think I could move.

This year, though, Alex's festive, cheerful aura filled the room and surrounded everyone, making everybody's moods ten times better, if that was even possible for my mother.

We helped make cookies and decorate the tree the day before, which left Alex buzzing to go to bed because he was "excited for Santa's arrival." The day of, I was dragged out of my bed before the ass crack of dawn, dragged into the living room, and was forced to sit on the couch and wait for the rest of the family to wake up. It was actually quite nice, sitting next to Alex, wrapped up in an afghan, sipping on a cup of coffee while watching the Christmas tree as the lights would flicker and twinkle. My family didn't wake up for another few hours, but I enjoyed that peaceful moment with Alex.

He was making me feel like a kid again, a feeling that I've missed since becoming an "adult".

I was getting slightly annoyed with May, though. Throughout the day she kept pushing me and Alex underneath the mistletoe, and I wanted to slap her. She knew he was gay, didn't she, and she was teasing him. I thought my sister was better than that, but Alex didn't seem to mind, though his cheeks would flare up almost in an instant.

We decided to stay for another few minutes, but I was able to talk my mother into letting me go on January 30th, telling her that I was holding an event at the bar. I really wasn't, I just didn't want to miss New Years with my friends.

Alex and I shuffled past my open door, dropping off our things and I felt the exhaustion hit me like a baseball bat. I wanted to slump off to my room and sleep for hours, but there was still one piece of business I had yet to finish.

"Hey, Lex, ready for one last Christmas gift?" I asked him, seeing his face light up.

"Ooh," he cooed, "What is it?"

I walked into my room, calling out, "Close your eyes and put out your hands."

I heard a "humph", but I assumed he was doing what I told him to do. I swear, he really is just like a child.

I grabbed his present from within my closet and walked back out, finding what I had expected to find: Alex, standing in the middle of the room, eyes scrunched painfully shut and arms eagerly extended outward.

I walked across the room and set his gift in his hands. His eyes shot open, probably due to the familiar feeling of it in his hands. He blinked up at me, eyebrows furrowed.

"Jack," he said skeptically, "This is my guitar case."

"I know, I know," I said back, "Open it."

"Why, to see my broken-" he stopped as soon as his eyes laid upon what was sitting inside the worn out case, "Jack? What is this?"

I walked over to him, standing next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

"It's exactly what you think it is," I smiled at him, watching as tears started springing to his eyes, "Go ahead, try it out."

And he did exactly that. He set the case on the sofa and pulled out his freshly fixed guitar, eyeballing it with wide, joyful eyes. I had contemplated just buying him a new one, but, knowing how important this instrument was, even though he never actually vocalized it, I decided to track down the best guitar repair shop in the area and have them look at it. As it turns out, it was almost beyond repair, but the person I went to said it wasn't impossible.

"It looks amazing," he breathed in, "Better than it did before."

He placed his straps around his body and, after tuning it for a few moments, strummed a clean cord that resounded through the room. A fresh wave of tears sprouted from his eyes as soon as the sound ceased, putting the guitar back in its case and throwing himself at me, hugging me tighter than I thought his small physique was capable of.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you," he repeated, wailing into my shoulder and, no doubt, soaking the material with his salty tears.

I wrapped my arms around him, rubbing his back in an attempt to calm him down some, whispering a "Merry Christmas," to him.

Alex detached himself from me and went back to scanning over his guitar, an oversized smile permanently plastered on his skin.

"How? When? Why?" he questioned, eyes never leaving the acoustic.

"I know people," I said with a shrug, "I knew you never really looked at your guitar, because each time would send you crying, so I knew that you wouldn't notice it's absence. I've been looking for a good repair shop for a while now, and I knew how much that thing meant to you. Also, we can't have a member instrument-less, especially since my idea of what the band is going to look like involves you with a guitar in your hands."

He looked up at me, gingerly holding it like it was his child, and said, "This means more to me than anything else," he paused, then looked back at the item in his hands, "My brother gave this to me. He's the reason I started playing," a sad smile slowly spread across his lips.

"I, uh," I said, at a complete loss for words. He had never mentioned having a brother before. And the solemn look on his face told me that something tragic had happened.

"His name was Tom, he gave it to me a few months before he passed," Alex continued.

Tom. He had called me Tom when I found him in the alley. He must have thought I was him, ready to take him beyond. Well, maybe not, but it seems plausible.

He sat down, putting the instrument back in it's case, and threw his head back on the sofa, tears starting to slow down some.

I positioned myself next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

"I wanted to make him happy, to make him proud," he suddenly sobbed out, turning his head to look at me, "But I ended up not being good enough and being thrown out on the streets. He was my only supporter, the only one in my family who really seemed to care, and I let him down. All because I am a terrible person."

Did he really think that way about himself?

I shook my head, putting both of my hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look straight at me.

"I don't want to hear you talk about yourself like that. You have a gift, Lex, and extraordinary one. Of all the people I could have asked to be lead vocalist, I chose you because you have a one-of-a-kind voice. The people at the record companies that you went to are going to feel pretty damn stupid when they hear what we've got to offer. And, on top of that, you are a great fucking person. You're personality is addicting, your laugh can cure cancer, your smile lights up an entire room, and you're just, you know, Alex. Alexander William Gaskarth, the man with the amazing personality, talent out the ass, and a regal as fuck name."

Alex looked at me, surprise written across his features as he listened to me praise him.

He didn't say a word, so I continued, "You're someone people want to be around. I mean, you made my entire family like Christmas a lot more. My mom even told me to start bringing you around more often. If people who always feel happy feel ten times better with you around, then you're doing something right. So, please, never say you are a terrible person, or that your brother would give up hope on you, because you're the kind of person that everyone needs in their life.

"And, on top of all of that, you helped me get out of my funk. I have a feeling that, if you hadn't come along in my life, I would have done something stupid. And, trust me, that isn't all that unlikely."

I let out a chuckle through my heavy panting. I had barely taken a single breath throughout my speech because, dammit, I was going to make him know that he was worth it.

He was staring at me, completely speechless. I was expecting him to fight back, to argue, to say how, yes, he was worthless, and I was ready to fight back, tooth and nail.

I was not ready for what happened next, though. It was something that honestly shocked me, but, at the same time, sent a spark throughout my body.

He leaned over and kissed me.