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Part 21. Alex

There she was, graciously making forever less terrifying...

The loud sounds of people chatting were spreading across the room, touching the walls and dispelling in the air, reaching every corner and every little space. Unnecessary dim lights were mixing with the blurred silhouettes of familiar faces, the staff and God only knew who, bringing the irritating feeling of incompleteness. It was something around midnight and it was hard to explain why that unimportant knowledge felt so tiring.

Or, perhaps, it wasn't hard at all?

He was sitting in a big black comfy armchair, resting his hands on the upholstery of it in a lazy manner, forgetting to look around. The liquid in the glass on the table tasted bitter and didn't give the expected result. He could still hear the buzz of the post-concert dressing room and see the faces around. Except for the burning out cigarette in the ashtray, there was nothing to cure the already habitual exhaustion, and he felt the disappointment for the whole set-up fogging his mind.

It'd been like that almost every day since the night he left. And was there anything to do about it?

He should've known the answer way too well. There was prepared a proper punishment for every crime, and for every made heartbreak, there must have been the pangs of conscience. Especially, if you leave in the middle of the most fascinating confession you've ever had a chance to hear in your life.

"I love you".

And what did have to mean?

It was uneasy to admit but that phrase became a quiet part of the late-night routine he pursued on tour. Around two weeks flew by since the last time Alex'd seen her face and her voice was somehow following his thoughts without anywhere to escape from it. Maybe, it was just a new kind of long-time effect after a serious relationship that he'd never felt before. Maybe, a silly attempt to romanticize something that was decided a while ago.

There couldn't be any regrets about the thing that was done just because there was no other way. It was all getting too much to take in and she was getting too hard to look at as just a girl he had fun with.

The main problem was that she spoke of love and it was nothing but foreign.

He sighed heavily, taking a sip of the bitter liquid in his glass just to do something. Just to break the train of thoughts and the newly discovered obsession with the memory of her glance and familiar features. Not that he hadn't been attached to the girl before. It'd just never felt so real and strong. Why so, though?

The reason was all about her. Breaking up with Janet was the easiest thing to do. Breaking up with others was a hard thing or a sad thing to do. Leaving her, though, somehow felt bitter. Just like the liquid in his glass, and that resemblance was making him repeat the action of drinking it again and again. Only to try to understand why it felt like torture.

Only to see why this time it was different.

'Alex, you've been sitting there dramatically for more than half an hour now. What's going on?'

He knew that whatever solitude he had was supposed to be ruined eventually and when Nick's voice broke the wall of thoughts in front of him, he was ready for it. Something irritating was in the whole question, even though the essence of it was nothing but understandable. Nothing was going on.

And still...

'I'm good, just leave me alone for the night. We leave soon anyway' Alex answered indifferently, raising a glance at the couch Nick was sitting on. The dressing room wasn't full of people anymore and he somehow managed to miss that important change. Only four of them were sitting there chatting, and he wondered how long it'd been like that.