Social Suicide (BxB) / On Hold

Chapter 16

Alex woke up late. Outside the sun was beating down, a rarity on a winter's morning such as this, but he couldn't bring himself to move. Instead, he laid on his bed admiring the intricate curved pattern that had been combed into his ceiling before he had even been born. His clock ticked on the wall, marking the time of his procrastination. He knew he should get prepared for school, but there was nothing he wanted to do less. The past weekend he went to Ashton's house as usual, but - to his relief - he'd been out both days. He was glad at the time, but school today meant Chemistry. And Chemistry meant time with Ashton. Now he normally wouldn't be too anxious for this, but after their argument on Friday, he dreaded confronting the other.

His quiet contemplation was ruined, however, when his mother knocked impatiently on his door. Time was up. 

He trudged down the street, his breath hitching as he passed Ashton's house. The house was identical to its neighbors right down to the shade of paint on the iron balconies, but he knew which one was Ashton's right away based of the smell of baking goods drifting from its open doors. He wondered if Ashton was in there, baking; or if he was going to school today. Desperating hoping for the former, Alex rushed past so he couldn't be seen.

*   *   *   

'It'll be fine, I'll make it to school before it rains,' Alex had said before he left home. 'No, I don't need an umbrella,' He had said too. Alex kicked himself, because the moment he had stepped onto the street connecting to his school, the sky became a wall of unrelenting water, and now he was completely drenched. Head to toe.

Ignoring the scornful expressions from other students, Alex headed straight for class. He was running late as it was, and the last thing he wanted was to have to walk half-late into class dripping wet. He unconsciously picked up his pace, the fear of potential humiliation at the forefront of his mind.

It turned out his speed was all in vain, as when he entered the class, he realized to his horror that everyone was already seated. 30 or so pairs of eyes looked towards the door as he skidded in and the teacher scowled, unimpressed and impatient.

"The spare clothes are by the reception, Alexander." She commented dryly.

"Oh, right." He responded, neck red with embarrassment. He hesitated but decided that getting new clothes might save him further humiliation. 

Upon reaching the reception, he found out to his horror that the only pair of clothes even close to fitting was a jersey of some sort. It was red and white, and seemed to have been worn recently. But Alex was in such haste that he threw it on without pausing, not even stopping to check the name on the back. By the time he returned, almost 20 minutes of class time had passed. Half of him was thankful for this, for it meant he had less time to spend next to Ashton.

Alex's friend Anthony eyed him sympathetically as he walked in. He knew he must look awful. His hair flopped unattractively in front of his eyes, only partially dried and tendrils of rain drailed down his temples like slugs. "Shut up," he muttered sourly as he walked past. Shoving his bag quickly underneath his desk, Alex was only too glad when he was finally seated. He could sense that Ashton was there, and it was hard to ignore his eyes as they bore into his head. So, without conscious thought, Alex's eyes drifted subtly right.

Ashton's face was a mask of steel. They held each other's gaze for a moment before Ashton's lips tweaked up into a smile and amusement clouded his eyes. Alex's ears reddened as the other's eyes wondered shamelessly down his body, pausing to admire the jersey that he'd haphazardly thrown on.

"That jersey... it looks familiar from somewhere," he said, his voice soft against the murmur of the class. "You know," he continued, "it sort of fits you. You've got a more athletic build than you let on.' Alex narrowed his eyes, unsure of what he meant by that. Was that his version of a compliment? Suddenly, he let out a low, attractive chuckle, leaning into his chair in his typical arrogant manner.

Since when was Ashton's laugh 'attractive?'

*   *   *

As fate would have it, Alex didn't see Ashton once for the rest of the school day; not even in their combined PE class. By lunchtime, he was pretty sure he was in the clear. 

The cafeteria, where he currently sat, was really the school gym. A hatch connecting it to the kitchen opened and the smell of chips and baked beans came wafting in. The students all lined up across the back wall with brown trays in their hands. Some were kicking the wall or leaning against it as they shuffled along. 

Alex had already eaten and was waiting in line with Chris, who was currently recounting some story from the previous period, and Alex - not fully listening - was nodding where appropriate, occasionally adding a comment here and there. 

"...And can you believe it? He literally just passed out in the middle of the floor." Chris continued, reaching the peak of his story. Unfortunately for Alex, it was the only part of the story he caught.

"Wait, who did?" He asked, rifling through his recent memories for who Chris was talking about. A prickle of fear washed through him - had Ashton fainted? That would explain why he hadn't seen him since Chemistry.

Chris sent him a pointed look, "Where you even listening to anything I was saying? Anyway, it was Jeremy - you know, that guy with the glasses."

"Oh yeah. I know him." Relief washed through Alex as he spoke. Ashton was fine. 

But that relief was tinged with a fear of a different kind. Ashton's safety was really none of his concern, so why did he care so much?

*   *   *   

 Alex was sitting at his desk at home, mid-way through his homework, when his mother knocked at his door.

"Alex, time for dinner!" She yelled. For their family, this was a rare occurrence. Usually, they ate their food separately; after all, both of the parents worked late. Alex knew that today was different. Something was going to happen.

When he got to the table, his suspicions were confirmed. 

"Alright. Finally, we're all here." His mum said, shooting a pointed glance at Alex. He sat down, biting back the urge to retaliate. Looking around the room, it wasn't hard to see why everyone was uncomfortable. There was obvious tension in the room, namely between his brother and mother, who sat at opposite ends of the small table. Alex assumed that they were still arguing over whether his brother, Jason, was allowed to move out or not.

Jason spoke first. "So why are we here? I mean I love the new family bonding," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "but usually we don't eat dinner out here. Together." 

"Yes well, I've decided to change that." His mum responded, her voice thin and coated in false enthusiasm. "We don't spend enough time together as a family. Don't you think this is nice?" She plastered on a wide smile in an attempt to prove her point and poked at her roast beef, which sat in a congealed lump of fat on her plate.

"Where did we get this bread?" Their Dad asked to break the awkward silence. It was good bread, unlike that which they usually buy. Alex eyed it for a moment. It was clearly handmade, already smeared with yellow butter.

"That's right! A boy in your class dropped it over. The Blakes' nephew." She said, looking at Alex as she spoke. His food turned to cardboard in his stomach. "Actually, he told me to give this to you too." They all looked curiously as she passed over a folded note.

Alex cleared his throat, he could feel his ears going red. "It's probably about this assignment we're doing. Thanks, mum." That seemed to be a good enough explanation to soothe his mum's curiosity, and she turned her gaze to her food. His brother, however, assessed Alex for a moment, his eyes narrowed.

Alex turned to his food also, many things on his mind. He tried to calm his heart, which was now pounding with adrenaline. For some reason, he felt he had to hide his and Ashton's 'relationship' (or whatever he could call it) from his family. Time stretched slowly, and when he finally finished eating, he went straight to his room to read the note:

'You can keep the jersey, it suits you ;) 

- Ashton' 

It was written in large, scrawled handwriting. Was he talking about the piece of clothing he'd borrowed from reception that morning? Alex turned to the said jersey, which he had carelessly discarded on the floor of his room. Surely enough, when he turned it over, there it was - the name "Ashton Spears" plastered across the surface. It was Ashton's soccer jersey. How he had missed that, Alex had no idea.