Wearing It Backwards

The night before Christmas, Jack should be curled up warm in his bed, or maybe staying up chatting with his siblings by the fireplace, reminiscing about past Christmases and their various bizarre holiday stories. Instead, though, Jack has none of that. Instead, Jack has near frostbitten fingers, sore feet, and an unbelievably sour attitude. It’s all Alex’s fault. Ultimately, he’s the one who brought Alex along in the first place, so maybe the blame does actually circle back around to him. But he’s not thinking about that right now. He just wants to get home, finish Christmas, and never have to speak to Alex again.

“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.” Jack scowls for what must be the hundredth time. He mainly repeats himself due to his anger and disbelief, but also because he knows how much Alex hates it when he complains, saying the same things over and over. It’s not like there’s much else to do anyway, walking down a cold, desolate street on Christmas Eve with an ex-boyfriend. Well, current fake boyfriend, but hopefully a true, never-ever-bother-me-gain ex-boyfriend once this is all through.

Alex huffs out an irritated sigh, his breath puffing out around him in a small cloud. “If you say that one more time,” He practically snarls, teeth grit from the cold and frustration, “I’m telling your family we aren’t together anymore.” Jack rolls his eyes at the threat, to keep his act up, but decides to keep his mouth shut for a while longer, knowing how dirty Alex is willing to play. He takes the rest of the time walking down the quiet suburban sidewalk to think. He thinks of when they’ll finally reach his parents’ house, of how tight the hugs will be from May and Joe. He hopes there’s hot chocolate already steaming and waiting for him, and he also hopes there isn’t enough hot chocolate for Alex to have some too. God, he wish he were warm. None of this would be happening if Alex weren’t born such a god-awful prick. No, Alex’s words to the tow-truck driver ring in Jack’s memory, we don’t need a ride, someone can come pick us up.

But there wasn’t anyone coming around - only fifteen minutes out - to pick the shivering pair off of the street. Because even though Jack’s mom would gladly, eagerly drive them home, Alex had told Jack they had to walk, as payback for “being annoying during the car ride” to Baltimore. And Jack couldn’t even ignore Alex’s demands if he wanted to, because when he reached for his cell phone in an act of irritated defiance, Alex threatened to tell Jack’s family the truth- again. That really seems to have become Alex’s favorite thing to say as of late, and it’s really, really boring down on Jack’s final nerve. He’s beginning to question if this whole ordeal is even worth it, if hauling his luggage around outside in the dead of winter while his fingers go numb is really that much better than just telling everyone what happened.

It’s just that, Jack has always been the disappointment. He hates creating any sort of sob story for himself, but he knows it’s true. No matter how many times his parents would tell him that it’s not, he knows that there are some things they’re required to say as parents. He knows that whether they’d ever admit it or not, his mom and dad and his siblings all know that compared to everyone else, he’s never even reached sub-par. It wouldn’t be so bad if Joe and May weren’t both so successful, already married or working with a six-figure income. Alex was the first thing that he felt everyone was truly proud of him for. Alex was sweet, and caring, and got on well with everyone. If he were to tell them that he’d managed to lose someone so great, Jack doesn’t think he could handle the looks on their faces. At least not at Christmas time, not when last Christmas, Jack’s father told him Alex had made it their best family Christmas in the past few years. Funny how the first time he’d heard that, his heart swelled with affection. Now, it just makes it sink to his stomach; he covers up the feeling with a roll of his eyes, hoping the action will provoke some sort of placebo effect and make his brain believe that he doesn’t actually care, that he doesn’t actually want to cry.

It seems to not work as well as he hoped, so Jack chooses to clear his throat and speak up again to draw his mind away from the negativity that sometimes manages to creep in.

“Why did you even agree to this anyway?” Jack mumbles, not bothering to look back at Alex while he asks. He isn’t sure why he didn’t ask such a puzzling question until now. Probably because he doesn’t really care, as long as it all works out in the end.

Jack thinks Alex is giving him his infamous bratty silent treatment again, but after a few moments of silence, he responds. “I’ve missed your family. Just because I don’t like you anymore doesn’t mean I don’t like them either.” Something about the way he reminds Jack of his contempt for him seems as though it was meant to sting, and while it does, it also annoys the fuck out of Jack. He shakes his head and regrets even bothering trying to have a somewhat normal conversation with the world’s biggest douche. He didn’t used to be so horrible, and especially not to Jack. Their relationship was practically argument-free, and usually so sweet that their friends would always coo and awe at their affection. But people change, Jack has learned, and he’s just going to have to deal with it.

--

“I can’t believe the tow-truck driver just left you guys in the cold like that,” May marvels, shaking her head. Jack looks over at Alex beside him with a plastered grin, a look in his eye that says just go with it.

“Yeah, well at least I had someone to keep me warm.” May and Jack’s mom make various happy humming noises, and Jack can tell Alex is just a beat away from rolling his eyes. Surprisingly and fortunately enough though, he doesn’t. Jack doesn’t want to say he’s grateful for Alex, but at least in this particular situation, he’s glad Alex is refraining from being a total ass.

Alex’s moment of false and undeserving praise seems to gear the conversation toward him, and Jack is honestly glad. Even though he calls his mom at least once a week from college, she still manages to bombard him with question after question whenever he occasionally comes by for a visit; it’s good to have a break from that, however short it may be. Plus, he hopes maybe he’ll catch a glimpse of Alex squirming under all of the attention and interrogation of Jack’s family- though he knows it’s highly unlikely, since Alex is a self-righteous dick that loves the spotlight and Jack’s family but, whatever. Jack is allowing a bit of wishful thinking.

He ends up nearly dozing off, head lolling to the side and eyes drooping as the fireplace warms him, softly crackling with low-burning flames. It’s only when he hears May pose a question that he’s drawn away from his sleepy daze and pulled back into reality.

“How long will you be staying with us?” She asks almost eagerly, and Jack opens his eyes a bit to see that she’s looking at Alex and smiling with shining, hopeful eyes, as if expecting he’ll stay forever. Before Alex can answer with something remarkably obnoxious - and probably invite himself over for much too long of a stay for Jack to stomach - Jack interjects, answering the question for him.

“Not too long,” he chimes in, words a little too rushed and frantic for such an innocent question. He does his best to save himself by continuing, “I-I mean, we have a new semester at school and I want to make sure we’re all settled and ready before the new flood of classwork comes in. Alex isn’t the best at staying organized, you know.”

The rest of the family laughs at this, a fond sort of chuckle, and just for the sake of really keeping up the act, Jack takes Alex’s hand when he notices that he’s pouting melodramatically. He feels some weird switch flip inside him at the sight of Alex acting so smug, Alex receiving love from Jack’s own family, Alex sitting there beside him and Alex’s hand in his when they aren't together, when he shouldn’t even be here at all. It’s a slightly muddled feeling, but it reminds him of when they broke up- heartbreak, confusion, anger. Jack squeezes Alex’s hand, not in the gentle affectionate way like they used to, but tightly. He feels his ex’s bony fingers struggling against his, and then Alex’s nails digging into his palm. The actions are so small and quick that they fortunately go unnoticed by the others, but not by Jack.

When a moment later the timer rings out for the food in the oven, Joyce and May spring up to help in the kitchen, where Joe, Jack’s father, and May’s husband are all gathered, bustling with different dishes for dinner or grinning as they catch up. As soon as they’re just out of earshot and not in anyone’s direct line of vision, Jack drops Alex’s hand and practically flings himself to the other side of the loveseat. Sure, maybe it’s a little unnecessary, but Jack only wants to be sure that Alex gets the message- they’re only doing this for Christmas, and Jack does not like him.

It seems that Alex receives it loud and clear.

“Would you calm the fuck down? It’s not like I want to be doing this either.” Alex scoffs, shaking his head as he looks Jack up and down, most likely questioning why he agreed to this. For once in a long while, Jack thinks he understands just how he feels. “And you need to tone it down a little. They’re going to figure it out if you keep acting like that. Just pretend I’m someone else- that’s what I’ve been doing for you.”

Jack sighs. “I wish it were that easy, but it’s hard to ignore you when your ego takes up the whole god damn room.” Alex glares at him, Jack scowls back, and for a moment, he thinks they could start having a fist fight right then and there; a full on brawl, smashing the glass coffee table and rolling and wrestling on the ground. Jack entertains the image of a bloody, bruised Alex in his head, before deciding that there’s a time and place for that, and his family Christmas gathering at his parents’ house is probably not the best option.

Fortunately, a call from the kitchen stops any further thoughts of punching Alex in the face, and saves Jack’s family Christmas for just a little bit longer. They don’t exchange any more potentially anger-provoking words to each other while they venture to the kitchen, showing off their faux smiles and even standing closer than a foot apart for added effect. Just as Jack’s nearing towards the dining room to eat, advising himself to just get through dinner, and that the next few days can’t be so bad, it seems that his luck has run out. Not that he had much to begin with.

Everyone is watching, waiting; even Joe is wiggling his eyebrows as the others chant and tell Alex and Jack to kiss below the mistletoe they’ve regrettably been caught under. Less than enthusiastically, Jack turns to face Alex properly, knowing there’s no point in trying to get out of this one. Their eyes meet, and they share a short, knowing gaze with each other, the kind that shares their distaste and their reluctance, but also the odd nostalgia of having been here before, doing this before. Jack feels a little sick. He hasn’t kissed Alex in at least three months, or however long ago the breakup was- it’s not like he’s counting.

Alex leans in first, his eyes slipping closed before Jack can read them all that well, and Jack decides hesitantly to follow suit. Jack cups Alex’s cheeks with both of his hands and presses their lips together; and maybe his thumb even brushes across Alex’s cheekbone out of habit, but whatever, it’s not like he meant to. It’s not like he wants to be kissing Alex, or wants him here at his parents’ house, or in his life anymore. The thoughts make Jack’s skin burn warmer with frustration and anger, and as Jack realizes what he’s doing he snaps away quickly, noting that his family is too busy cooing to notice how hastily he removed himself from the kiss. It’s over, it’s done with. He doesn’t bother looking at Alex again as he makes his way over to his usual spot at the table, making a mental note of where the goddamn mistletoe is so as not to step anywhere near it again.

--

Most years, Jack would be the one to wake up the rest of the house on Christmas morning, but with the amount of sleep he’s gotten, he woefully and groggily realizes that the duty must be passed on to someone else this time. It’s not that he isn’t comfortable in his old bedroom, and fortunately, Alex wasn’t so much of a dick as to tell Jack to sleep on the floor. But Alex did kick, all fucking night long. Alex practically wrestled with the pillows and shifted and tossed and twisted so often that Jack could barely keep his eyes shut for twenty minutes at a time. He doesn’t remember Alex being such a restless sleeper in the past, and has a sneaking suspicion that Alex is probably doing it on purpose somehow to spite him.

The morning everyone waits so long for comes and goes a bit too quickly. Everyone loves their gifts, or at least pretends they do. Jack gives Alex a few pairs of Christmas socks, a Madonna CD, and a packet of butterscotch candies- all the things he hates. At least he even ventured to spend a little money on his hostility, unlike Alex who clearly falsely promises in front of the others that, “his gift is a surprise for when they get back home.” Jack refrains from giving into the urge to say, “What, are you going to dump me again?”

The downtime between gifts and Christmas dinner goes well for the most part. There’s a few glasses of early wine and eggnog thrown around as they play cheesy family board games, which makes for a good time, even with Alex around.

It’s when Alex starts up with his usual antics that things begin to go south.

When Alex talks about himself, he tends to get carried away- especially when he’s got an eager and willing audience eating up his every word. As the group asks him all sorts of things involving his plans for after he’s finished college, and what kind of work he’s hoping to get into, Jack just sinks further and further into the sofa cushion. He hopes fruitlessly that maybe it’ll smother him, swallow him up so that he might escape the Alex-themed hell he’s placed in.

Jack doesn’t mean to lose it, really he doesn’t. But he can’t help it. Everything he’s kept bottled up, things he didn’t even know he’d been trapping inside come flying out, the words and emotions almost too fast for his mind to keep up with.

“God, would you just shut the fuck up?” Jack interjects, stopping Alex mid-sentence. The whole room is shocked into silence, and all eyes are trained on him, including those of an incredulous Alex. The stupid expression on his stupidly beautiful face only manages to make Jack angrier.

“I-I don’t,” Alex starts, but doesn’t seem to know how to finish. He doesn’t seem to be giving into Jack’s rage and joining in on the heated argument; whether to make himself look better or for some reason to still keep up the fake relationship act, Jack isn’t sure.

With a scoff and a clench of his fists, Jack continues on, standing from the sofa and glaring down at Alex. “Oh, don’t fucking act like you don’t know what you’re doing. You always try to play so innocent, like you can never be the bad guy. Even when we broke up you tried to blame me for everything!” The gasps of surprise around him cause Jack to falter for a moment, but he doesn’t stop. They would’ve figured it out sooner or later.

“I brought you here because I didn’t want everyone to treat me like they always do, always looking at me with stupid sad looks on their faces like they think I could be better, but I can’t. You just made everything worse, they look at you and they see how beautiful you are, how perfect you are, how you’re great at everything, everyone wants to know about you. My own family couldn’t care less about me when you’re around, and you don’t care! You let it happen, you want it to!” Jack can feel the tears beginning to well, the tickle in his nose and the thick feeling in his throat. He’s admittedly surprised when Alex stands and wraps a hand around his wrist, opening his mouth to probably spout something that’s supposed to be comforting, something that everyone will applaud him for, something that’ll make him the hero during Jack’s meltdown. Jack just won’t have it.

He rips his hand away from Alex’s grasp, jerking so quickly that he even stumbles backwards a bit as he tries to get away. There are tears on his cheeks as he points an accusing finger at his ex. “Y-You always manage to ruin everything for me, you made me the lesser of the both of us, you took away my happiness when we broke up, and you ruined my Christmas. I shouldn’t have brought you here, I don’t want you anymore, just… get the hell out of this house and get the hell out of my life.”

The burning on Jack’s cheeks makes him head for the back door as he storms away, hoping to find some sort of solace in his snowy childhood backyard. The old singset even still sits there, rusted and breaking down with time, and with a bout of sorrow and distant nostalgia for happier, simpler times, Jack moves to sit on one of the icy swings, numb fingers gripping at the frosted chains. He regrets not taking a heavy jacket out with him, or even gloves, but sure as hell won’t bother venturing back inside for it, not under the judgemental stares of everyone in the house. For a second, Jack wonders what they’re saying about him, what they’ll think of him after this, and worst of all, what bullshit Alex is most likely spouting about him. After coming up with more than a few possibilities and scenarios though, he shakes the thoughts away, considering it best to not make himself even more miserable than he already is just with what-if’s.

He isn’t sure how much time he spends out there in solitude, scowling and kicking at the snowy ground beneath his feet, but by the time the backdoor opens and footsteps sound down the creaky worn steps, the sun is almost down, and snow has begun to fall again.

Jack is clearly surprised when a pair of familiar bean boots walk up close to him, and even more surprised when he dares a look up at Alex, and sees him not annoyed or smug or angry, but… sympathetic? He doesn’t know what to do, so he reverts back to his usual tactics, gives a scoff and a roll of his eyes that’s sort of sheltered him and helped him avoid acknowledging his actual emotions.

“Your... your mom, she told me to come get you. She says it’s too cold out and you’ve been sitting there for too long.” Alex sniffs, his nose already running from the cold. Jack entertains the thought of actually listening and complying, but the idea of all the stares and the awkward silence that are most likely waiting for him inside have him quickly deciding against it. He shrugs his shoulders, and looks back away from Alex, toeing at the slush beneath his feet again with a childish frown.

Alex emits a soft sigh, and crunches over to sit on the empty swing beside Jack. Jack wonders why Alex is doing it, and he figures he better brace himself for the onslaught of insults or curses or whatever it is Alex may have in store to get Jack inside. None of that happens, though. It’s quiet for a moment, save for the groaning of the swing’s chains under Jack’s weight and the sounds of their steady breathing. Then Alex clears his throat, and speaks up again.

“Um,” He begins, and Jack is a little taken aback at how soft his voice is, how tentative and unlike Alex he’s being, “Your mom didn’t ask me to come get you.” Alex admits, and Jack looks over to him, expression confused.

“Then what-,”

“I wanted to come out here, you… you don’t even have a proper coat on, you’re probably going to get frostbite just to sulk and prove a point.”

“Why would you care?” Jack spits, hoping his words have the bite to them that he’s searching for. It’s difficult to portray much of any malice at all though when his voice is quavering with shivers and his nose is cherry red.

“I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Alex tells him, his voice sounding the warmest and most sincere it’s been all week. It doesn’t sound like the faux sugary sweetness that he amps up in front of Jack’s family. It doesn’t sound forced or sarcastic or deceitfully pleasant. Alex’s voice sounds genuine, and it reminds Jack of how soft and lovingly he’d speak to Jack when they were together.

Already emotionally spent, the thought makes Jack’s eyes burn with fresh tears, and he looks in the other direction before Alex can see them fall. He feels embarrassed for letting such stupid, irretrievable memories get to him, but it can’t be helped. Jack forces out another response before Alex can notice his vulnerability and get any ideas.

“Well let’s see, my whole family thinks I’m some rage-driven asshole, I fucked up Christmas, and I can’t feel my toes or fingers because I’m sitting by myself crying over my ex-boyfriend in the snow,” Jack grumbles, “Does that sound like I’m okay to you?” He shakes his head aggravatedly, and wipes at his nose with a cold, dry hand.

“If you came out here to mess with me, just get it over with.” Jack mutters.

“Jack, I don’t want you to have to sit out here alone. I got a fire started, just come inside before you freeze.”

The offer seems admittedly tempting, but Jack can’t be sure he’s totally sold yet. What if Alex is trying to set him up for something, is just bringing him inside so his family can sit him down for some kind of intervention? Jack bets he told everyone some insane lie, that Jack always had anger-issues when they were dating and that he needs to seek help. Honestly, it doesn’t seem that far off from something Alex would do.

As if reading his mind, Alex speaks up again. “I told everyone else to leave the house for a while to give you time to cool off. They’re all looking out looking at the Christmas lights downtown. Now I’m seriously not going to ask you again, come inside, Jack.”

Jack tells himself he only obliges because of the fireplace inside.

--

A little while later, feeling has returned to Jack’s extremities, and he’s coiled up under a blanket in his favorite chair just thinking, and watching the fire dance. Alex is on the couch only a few feet away, and though he isn’t sure why, Jack feels somewhat comforted having him nearby. They haven’t spoken since Jack clambered back inside away from the cold, but the silence is more peaceful than awkward. Eventually though, Alex breaks it.

“You know, I do really love your family,” He states, his voice low and almost gravelly. “But, they’re not the only reason I agreed to come here with you.”

Jack is little taken aback by the unexpected confession, but doesn’t bother voicing his confusion and instead waits for Alex to continue.

“I know you knew about how shitty things were with my parents, and… things haven’t really looked up at all since we broke up. I sent them a card early hoping they would respond, take it as a hint that- that I miss them, and want to see them, but they, um. They didn’t.” Alex clears his throat, as if willing away the urge to cry. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go for the holidays.”

The sadness and disappointment is prominent in Alex’s voice, and vaguely Jack puzzles over why Alex is telling him any of this, why he’s letting his guard down this way. Regardless, and though he won’t tell him, Jack appreciates it. It feels like it fits the state they’re in. He thinks that Alex is done, but is a bit stunned when his soft voice sounds out again.

“And also, I, uh… I came here because- because I missed you.”

Jack slowly lifts his head to turn and look at Alex, who surprisingly is looking back at him. The fire and the lights on the Christmas tree nearby reflect and twinkle in Alex’s glittering eyes, and Jack feels his heart swell in his chest with an inexplicable feeling. It’s everything he’s desperately wanted to feel since the break-up, but at the same time he’s hesitant. This shouldn’t be happening, should it? His mother always told him that everything happens for a reason; if that’s true, then maybe he shouldn’t even be supposed to go back to Alex. Maybe their split, the argument and the tears and the yelling, it was all so that they could spend their time apart, as they should.

But as Alex languidly moves the knitted blanket off of his legs and stands, Jack can’t stop himself from following suit. They meet in the middle of the room in front of the fireplace, closer together than they’ve willingly been in some time, and their gazes meet. It’s clear to tell what they’re both thinking, what kind of inner turmoil they must be experiencing.

“I don’t want it to be like last time,” Jack whispers, “I don’t want to do this if you’re just going to push me away again.”

Alex swallows, shakes his head. “N-No, it’s not, I swear. I never meant any of the things I said, I was just afraid of you thinking less of me. I didn’t ever want to break up but I was afraid that if I admitted it was my fault that you’d never trust me again.”

“So you thought you should cut me out of your life instead?” Jack asks, eyebrows knitted together.

“Jack, please. I was scared. I make mistakes. This is me telling you that I know what I did wrong and that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He trails off, closing his eyes tight and ducking his head. Jack doesn’t know what the right decision to make is, but he knows what his heart is feeling, what it’s telling him to do. He just hopes he won’t regret it.

Gently, Jack lifts his hand to Alex’s chin, tilting it upward so that Alex’s eyes open and are again level with his. “It’s alright, I’m not mad anymore.” He mutters, and leans in closer, his own eyes slipping shut.

“Wait,” Alex gasps, placing a hand on Jack’s chest to stop him. Jack thinks he feels his heart breaking, until Alex continues, “There’s no mistletoe above us.”

Jack can’t hide the grin that spreads across his face, and rolls his eyes fondly, leaning in once more. “Doesn’t matter. I hope I never need the excuse of mistletoe to kiss you ever again.”