Stockholm Syndrome (Jalex)

Day Nineteen

Jack. Day Nineteen - 8:14

"Alex?" I walked into the kitchen, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, kind of pissed off about being cruelly awaken at this time in the morning by an unspecified and annoyingly loud clattering noise, which just to my luck seemed to insist upon echoing throughout the walls of this place. "What are you doing?"

My boyfriend jumped around to face me, dropping the bottle of pills instantaneously. The glass split upon impact with the marble flooring, causing the hundred or so tiny white tablets to spread out in a mess across our kitchen floor.

"You weren't going to take them, were you?" I eyed the pills nervously, before glancing back up to Alex and digging my teeth into my bottom lip and probably unintentionally cutting off the blood flow to my mouth entirely.

"No." His words hit me with truthfulness and sincerity, yet even if he were to be telling the truth, the situation just wouldn't make sense regardless - what could he possibly be doing with a fucking bottle of pills.

"Then what- what else were you going to do with them?" I pushed the words out breathlessly, my eyes darting in a continuous loop between Alex and the pills.

"I was examining them." He didn't even try to lie decently - his tone coming off sarcastic, and very much like he didn't care, and with him being Alex, I presumed he didn't at all, and really, as much as I hated it, I wasn't wrong.

"And why would you need to be doing that?" I asked, looking with uncertainty at my boyfriend because I didn't know both what I should believe and I what I actually wanted to.

"Because I need them." he insisted, his words breaking through the silence with a stern tone instantly, as if he didn't even need to think about his answer at all.

"Lex- no, you don't, just-" I let out a sigh, wondering if I would ever get anywhere with Alex, but despite the unfruitful future ahead, I just couldn't give up - he meant to much to me, and of course I both hated and thanked myself greatly for that fact. "Fuck. Just tell me what's going on, please?"

"No." And with that he turned to walk out, but he had the sadistic fortune of slipping on the pills and landing on the marble flooring with his head against the countertop.

"Fuck! Alex are you okay?" I rushed over to him, grabbing his hands, only to have him look up at me and shoot me nothing short of a death glare, only of course to blame me for giving a damn, as was expected.

"I'm fine, Jacky." He pulled himself back up, still gripping tightly onto my hand throughout the process, which calmed up down - me more than him, admittedly. This was kind of pathetic, but right now it was the least of my worries entirely.

"Just tell me what you were thinking of doing with the pills." I met his gaze, wondering if I ever would successfully pull an answer out of him. I reckoned things wouldn't go quite so well, but of course nothing was going to stop me trying.

"No, because you'll stop me and I'm not making a mistake like that, Jacky. I care about you, but there are some aspects of me you shouldn't care about at all, and this is one of them." He just didn't get that you couldn't turn off the caring feature. It was just something that had grown on me; rather like Alex himself.

"Alex, if you're trying to kill yourself-"

"I'm not fucking suicidal." He snapped, tightening his grip around my hand, making me shiver a little, before I could push it off and remind myself that this was Alex, my boyfriend, and everything was very much okay.

"Then what are you?"

"I'm a serial killer, Jacky. You're in love with me, Jacky." He locked our gazes, keeping my brown eyes ensnared with his, and by the beauty that his held, maybe I wasn't all that bothered. "Which of our two behaviours is more suicidal, huh?"