Stockholm Syndrome (Jalex)

Day Seven

Jack. Day Seven - 14:26

The events of last night had confused me entirely and I almost thought I had turned schizophrenic overnight when I woke up cuddled into Alex's side on the sofa in the main part of his house. By the main part I mean the liveable in part, the part that has furniture instead of chains and shackles, along with proper lighting and dear lord, running water.

Running water had been something I'd spent the past week without, and only now did it dawn on me as to how much I missed regular showers: spending hours under a stream of burning hot water and letting your thoughts take control, whilst belting out Disney songs and getting far too much shampoo in my eyes to avoid a possibility of blindness.

It occurred to me that I actually hadn't had a shower since I'd arrived here, which was pretty much a week by now, and I was beginning to feel pretty disgusting, but that didn't take away the fear I had of asking Alex to let me, of course.

The fact that he was allowing me to sleep curled up to him in a decent room was more than astounding- or maybe this was just a coincidence, maybe he'd shout at me, I was too scared to take a peek at his face, so I hadn't a clue if he was asleep or not, and I resorted to lying here like a sitting duck. Jack Baraquack. I made a pretty shit duck if I was honest; I haven't even got a beak. Beaks are essential.

"Jacky, I know you're awake." He whispered in a playful tone, and for once, when I say playful, I don't mean murderous playful, I mean actually playful. He actually sounded happy for once, which was a surprise in itself; his capacity to actually express any emotion was another one that shortly followed.

I didn't even think Alex and playful meant anything other than a mass genocide with extra gore and blood, but you know what? When it comes to Alex, I think I like to be surprised, especially now I'm into the incredibly optimistic habit of expecting the worst.

I groaned, rolling out from where I was nudged into his side and looked up into his eyes. His eyes were warm, his eyes were perfect and they prepared me for what he could possibly be about to say next, because I hadn't a clue at all. He could tell me to fuck off, get out, throw a string of insults at me, fuck he could even hit me, or even shoot me, or fuck-

"It's near enough half past two, in the afternoon!" He ran his fingers through my messed up bed hair; not a sight I particularly wanted him to see, but really, I hadn't an awful lot of choice in the matter. I didn't expect him to criticise me on my late awakening; my hair, my hygiene, my lack of personal space, my weight breaking his sofa maybe, but my lie in? This was becoming far too normal for my liking.

"Mmm.." I stretched out across the sofa, trying to hide my utter state of awe as I began to take in my surroundings. "I'm aware." He really was lying when he called this place 'humble', but really, I supposed it rather fitted, this house being just as humble as he was. Alex Gaskarth was just the epitome of modesty.

The room was practically made of marble; the shiny rock coated the walls, counter tops, coffee tables, you name it - I wouldn't be surprised if he was wearing marble underpants. A silver chandelier hung from the ceiling with horribly realistic looking artificial candles, or at least I hoped they were artificial, because I really didn't like the chance of this place being carelessly set alight. No, they had to be artificial; he would have accidentally shot them by now and burned the whole house down otherwise.

"You slept like you haven't slept in days," he chuckled, but I didn't, because really, it was true - I hadn't slept in days. I had barely gotten a wink of sleep in this place; I just didn't trust it, and I had a more than valid reason not to, and this valid reason was now cuddling up to me on his sofa. However, I this valid reason seemed to be causing me to fall in love with him, and if that wasn't troubling, then really I don't fucking know what is.