Stockholm Syndrome (Jalex)

Day One

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Jack - Day One. 17:43

"Jack just put up with it." My brother's snide tone caught me off guard and I was forced to catch the crate of beer he tossed in my direction; the other option would've given several broken toes and let's say that my dear older brother was hardly in the room for a trip to emergency services right now. "It's not my fault I actually have friends."

I glared at him. Okay, maybe he was right, I was kind of a loner, but I had... thinking about it, who was my friend? Who did I hang out with? No one in particular. Would anyone ever miss me if I just randomly disappeared? No. The answer hung still in the stuffy air and I couldn't quite budge it. Someone must- no. I couldn't, no I wouldn't, accept it. Maybe I should run away and see what happens: a life on the road with no prospects or money, why not? Maybe I- No. I'm too curious for my own good and why do I even care in the slightest. Joe's just winding me up.

The thought wouldn't go away though.

"Jack." He waved a hand frantically in front of my face and I quickly came to my senses and reluctantly heaved the crate of beer over to the table.

"Why do you need to have exactly so much beer for one party? You're not going to drink all of it." There were a good couple of dozen six packs of beer sat on my mother's kitchen table. When she said be good and don't cause havoc before she flew off to Peru for a week ment she didn't want Joe to pull another party that would wreck the house, get him arrested, maybe even get me arrested or if not, in serious trouble with neighbours.

"Jack, you just don't seem to get the concept of guests, do you?" I rolled my eyes, leaning back against the table and adjusting my glasses.

"How many guests, though? Mum even said no parties and you look like you're inviting the whole population of the Congo." I doubted the fact that we could fit 65 million people in our house, but Joe wasn't exactly hindered by much and we had a fairly large garden I guess.

"Well it doesn't matter what Mum said," he narrowed his eyes, his beady eyes cutting into me in an intimidating manner, "because she doesn't have to and she isn't going to, is she, Jack?" I bit my lip and nodded, already hating the whole idea.

I didn't like people, I didn't like alcohol and I didn't like Joe. 

-

21:13

The house already reeks of alcohol; I'm nauseous and I haven't even touched the stuff. Joe's hammered to the point he can barely stand and I think that's the fourth time he's thrown up already. I know for a fact that I can't get that much sick out of rug. We'll have to buy a new one and hastily pass it off and pray that mum wouldn't notice or Joe would just have to make sure she was drunk enough before letting her set foot in the living room.

"Shit." I was harshly pulled out of my thoughts by a guy shoving into my right side. "Dude, are you okay?" I pealed myself off of the wall and turned to face the guy that had shoved me there in the first place and dear god I hope it was accidental, because I may just be looking at the hottest guy ever.

He's got that weird fringe thing going on, but it works for him, especially with his golden hair that shimmers when the light catches it. He has deep brown eyes that seem to be scrutinising me with as much integrity that I am giving my 'inspection' of him. The left corner of his mouth twitched before sliding up into crooked smile that seems to frame his face perfectly. As he pushes his fringe to the right (a subconscious habit - I can tell by the distant look in his eyes as his hand reaches up) his eyebrows are revealed: they're enormous, I just hope the lower half of his body obligates with these proportions. He's wearing black jeans that are so tight I can almost see it, not that I'm complaining, of course. He's paired them with a low cut and rather gay looking, grey t-shirt. Dear God, let him be gay: looking like that there's no way in hell that he wouldn't have countless girls constantly swooning over him.

"Yeah.. yeah.. I'm fine." The words stumbled out in a stupidly high pitched tone and I found myself blushing almost instantly. That's first impressions messed up then, isn't it?

"Good," he smiled at me, pausing a moment, considering something. He puts his hand out towards me, "I'm Alex."

I stared blankly at it for a few moments, before grabbing his hand a little too enthusiastically, "Jack."

He grabbed a beer off the table that I was perched on the edge of, before joining me and slowly sipping from his beer. "You don't look awfully happy."

I nodded, "I'm not: I hate parties, I guess. It sounds stupid, I know, but they're not really my scene. I'd rather be reading or something like that, I guess."

"Someone with a degree of intelligence, that's a first." I let a small smile lap over my lips like gentle waves. "You turned up though didn't you?" I shrugged and he took another swig of his beer, "waiting for someone?" 

"No," I sighed, "it's my brother's party, I'm just sort of stuck with it, I guess."

"I guess," he mimicked. "You say that a lot, don't you?"

"I guess."

-

22:28

Alex is on what I think is his fifth beer now and I'm still sober. I've never drank in my life and I'm not sure whether I should regret this decision or not. Alex and I seem to be getting on okay; he seems perfectly happy to put up with my social incompetence and generally incapability to continue a conversation. It's weird. Have I just made a friend?

"Jaaaaaccckkkk...." He slurred out, leaving me to the conclusion that he was in fact very drunk.

"Mmm..." I nodded, stealing a glance into his perfect eyes.

"Kiss me."

The words didn't sink in at first and it took me a few minutes to spur a wild response, "what?"

"Kiss me, Jack." He winked at me as he spun to face me and I awkwardly did the same.

"Why?" 

"Because I want you to."

I didn't need further persuasion and found my lips swiftly on his. Alex took no hesitation in leading the kiss and pushed me back against the wall, before pushing his tongue between my poised lips. And then his hands, oh god, his hands. Everywhere. I shouldn't be enjoying this. I shouldn't be enjoying the moans he's making. I shouldn't be enjoying the feeling of him pressed up close against me. I should be worried that Joe would see me: no one knows that I'm gay, well I guess Alex has more or less figured that out by now. I pushed the thought away: Joe's too drunk to care, too drunk to see in a straight line, even.

Then it's over all too soon.

"You enjoyed that didn't you?" He whispered into my ear as he slowly pealed himself away from me.

I gulped, but couldn't stop myself from nodding in response.

"That's hot. I like how nervous you get; don't worry I'll look after you." I didn't quite understand what he was getting at here. "You sure you don't want a drink?" I firmly shook my head: I wanted to be sober, especially for this, because I didn't want to ever lose the memories, I didn't want to ever lose this moment right here and I didn't want to ever lose him. "C'mon, I'll get you one." I tried to protest, but before I could he placed the can firmly in my hands, "one can't hurt."

One can't hurt.

I downed it in one go.

And almost immently collapsed against Alex.

One can't hurt.