The Goth and His Psycho.

The Goth and His Psycho: [Chapter Twenty Two]

  Alex raced home, his heart beating furiously the whole way, and not due to the exertion. He jumped on the bus a street over from his school, and spent the whole time bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet, too anxious to sit down. Taking out his phone from his bag, he quickly dialed home, too paranoid to not warn Bree. 

  He knew Bree wouldn't answer; he'd told her to only pick up the phone after he'd rung three times, that way she knew it would be him. After he'd put the phone down for the third time, she rung him back almost immediately. 

  "Pansy?" his heart settled a little in his chest; at least Miss Grene hadn't phoned the police. Yet.

  "Bree" he breathed, relieved and still shaky at the same time. 

  "What is it?" she knew him too well not to hear the tremor in his voice. 

  "Bree, I think they know" he murmured into the phone, glancing along the bus to make sure no one was looking his way "One of my teachers just grabbed me in school, asking if I was hiding you. She told me the police told the staff at school to look out for my behaviour, because they know we used to be friends" 

  She was silent for a long time. Alex was worried she'd just get up and leave. 

  "What do you want to do?" 

  Alex was a little shocked that she even bothered to ask him, and was pleased that she actually cared about what he thought. 

  "I'm on my way home, just... just wait for me. We'll figure something out Bree" he told her, certainty etched into every dip and arch of his voice. He wasn't going to lose her, he wouldn't let that happen. 

  "Okay" she muttered, he wondered what she was feeling right now "Pansy? I love you" 

  The phone disconnected before he could reply, and despite the current mess they were facing, his heart stuttered in his chest when he thought about her actually loving him, and actually admitting that she loved him. It was a step in their relationship he hadn't expected to take so soon. Even so, he calmed his features into a somewhat neutral arrangement, not wanting to draw attention to himself from other passengers on the vehicle.

  Not that any were looking his way; but still, it was pretty full, and if anyone knew him, he didn't want to start up a conversation while looking so panicked.

  The ride towards his house took fifteen minutes, and when he hopped from the bus after hastily thanking the driver, the walk to his front door took five. He couldn't help hurrying, dreading coming to his street despite his quick pace. What if he got to his street and saw police cars lined up outside? What if they were dragging Bree from his house? What would he possibly do?

  His feet broke into a run before he could stop himself, he didn't mean to - it would draw attention - but he couldn't fight his absurd imagination, and it provided all sorts of images for him. Bree being held down in his room, kicking and screaming, being cuffed or even tasered. Being hauled limp from his house, tossed into the back of a car and taken from him forever. 

  When he rounded the corner onto his street, he had to skid to a stop. There was nothing. Empty road, no sign of sirens or flashing lights. Just a normal suburban street. He slowed his steps, forced his breathing to even; his neighbours were ever watchful. 

  His feet echoed loudly on the hollow wooden boards of the decking before he all but slammed into his front door. The key fumbled in the lock, but he eventually kicked open the stupid plank of wood and shouldered his way inside, his heart erratic in his chest as he slammed the door behind him.

  "Pansy?" her voice set his stomach quivering, and when she appeared at the top of the stairs he rushed forward, his face betraying his emotion. That would have been dangerous a while back, looking at her like that, with every play of his heart written clearly over his features. She'd have scolded him for it.