Forced Eternity (Jalex)

Long-Awaited

Alex's POV

Such a beautiful boy when he was asleep. I could have just taken him if I really wanted to, but why bother such a wonderful creature in his most peaceful state? I really didn't understand sleep anyway. It seemed to be this time where mortals closed their eyes and weren't really alive for hours upon hours. Seemed like a waste of time to me.
I touched his face softly, caressing his soft skin under my callused fingertips. He stirred lightly. His dark eyebrows furrowing slightly. I didn't want to take him, not yet. I used to have a deal with Jack's father, but it went wrong, so I had to get rid of him. Luckily, I hadn't hurt my precious Jack.
His skin was like porcelain in his dark room. Light trails of tears stained his cheeks. He'd been crying. I knew why. He missed his father. He also blamed himself. Given the situation, he did seem to be the cause of it, but in reality, I had killed his father. Jack just happened to have been in the car. His father shouldn't have made a deal he knew he couldn't keep. And now, I needed a mortal. His father was supposed to be my captive, but I had to do away with him. And his son looked a lot like him, so why no go for the son? No complications, and it could be a simple snatch and never let him go.
I wonder if he was any fun. I watched him often, waiting for the moment to strike. There were plenty times when I could have, I mean, the kid was always alone. Though I watched him, there was a lot about him that just fascinated me and confused me. I didn't understand his enjoyment for playing that guitar of his. Nor do I understand why I can't help but smile blissfully and watch him play that guitar of his.
Jack rolled over in his bed, the metal frame creaking loudly. How the sound didn't wake him up, I have no idea. I crawled into the bed and touched him. He couldn't see me. He could only feel me. His eyes scrunched tight and he opened his eyes slowly. He sat up and rubbed at his eyes. Turning on his bedside lamp, he examined his arm, where I had touched him at. Downside to me ever touching him, I always hurt him. I never meant to hurt him. But, I guess my touch was too hot for his skin and it always left a red outline on his skin that stung him for hours. He gritted his teeth and got out of bed. I watched him as he almost robotically bandaged up his arm.
"Jack." I spoke, my voice coming out a whisper to him. He still couldn't see me. He looked around the room.
"Hello?" He asked quietly. I held back a chuckle, deciding to mess with him a bit.
"Jaaaack." I repeated, elongating his name this time. His eyes were wide with fear.
"Who's there?" He asked, his face showing true horror. I bottled up my laughter.
"Does your arm hurt?" I asked, actually a bit curious as to if I'd hurt him or not. He bit his lip and didn't say anything else. "Does it hurt?" I pressed, but he remained silent. Well, my fun was over. He turned off the light and laid back down. I laid next to him, but didn't dare touch him again.

___

Watching Jack play guitar was one of my favorite things to do, to pass the time. I actually didn't have a lot of free-time. But when I did, however, I spent it watching Jack. Even though he did the same things day in and day out, he intrigued me. He was striking strings and his fingers moved so fast across the upper part of the guitar. It had come to my knowledge that he was writing his mother a song for her birthday.
I often found myself daydreaming about what it'd be like to ask Jack about his guitar. Or what it'd be like to touch him and he'd know it was me. Those could happen at that moment, but I didn't want to take him, not yet.
He started singing softly, but then cursed at himself, mumbling about how much he sucked. I frowned. I hated when he spoke like that.
"You don't suck, Jack." I said, but my voice was only a faint whisper to his ears. He sighed and his eyes became sad.
"But I do." He shut his eyes, and took a deep breath. I wasn't sure how to reply to that, so I didn't. I wondered why he was always so hard on himself. Even his sister wasn't that hard on him. In my opinion, Jack pushed himself too much. His expectations were far greater than he could ever actually fulfill. Sometimes, I wished that I could make him feel better about himself. But his low self-esteem was something he had to fix on his own.
"Smile, for me? Please?" Seeing him looking so sad made my stomach twist and it didn't feel pleasant. He laughed shortly to himself, a small, weak, smile on his lips. Jack was an angel. He just didn't know that. And by angel, I meant he was something of another kind. He wasn't like other humans. He wasn't cruel. He had no secret intentions. His heart was pure. He was beautiful. No, the word beautiful didn't do him justice.
"Shut up." He mumbled. He thought I was his conscience. A voice in his head that refused to go away. I was all very real. I just chose not to show myself to him. He wasn't ready for his reality quite yet. I didn't like to leave him, but I had pressing matter to attend to beneath the earth's surface.

___

Underneath the surface, past the tainted soil and decomposing corpses, is where I made my home. It was always warmer than where the human lived and thrived. My home was something the size of a little league baseball field. There was a quaint bedroom, even though I didn't sleep. A small dining room, I didn't use because I didn't eat. I mostly had rooms that resembled those of the mortals' homes, only so when I did claim my long-awaited and deserved prize, he wouldn't feel so out of place.
I had taken things and recreated things that I knew he would like. I had a sleek black guitar waiting for him. I had made sure it would always be tuned, so he wouldn't have to waste time tuning it. He could simply play and fill the small desolate house with a feeling of home. There were posters of that one group of men he liked so much. And not to mention copious amounts of the junk food he loved to consume.
Constantly, I wondered about him. He never left my thoughts. His smile, the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he really smiled or laughed. How he giggled at the most unfunny things. The way his mind worked when he was creating mesmerizing noises from that six-string instrument he played so well.
I loved him. And he'd never met me.
That was perfectly fine, he would spend plenty of time with me, and he could always come to love me. He was like a butterfly, something you can't help but be entranced by. I wanted to keep him forever. I had things to feed him, keep him entertained. I could make him happy and content. I'd watched him enough to know that he wasn't exactly content with his life on the surface. So why not bring him to my house where there were plenty things to make him happy. You do such things like that for the ones you love. And I certainly did love Jack.