There Alex and I lay, his chest raising and falling as he took each breath, his arm limply thrown over my body, his leg wrapped around my waist.
Was it just me or had he only started to get ever so clingy? When he slept, he mostly always abandoned his side of the bed, nearer closer and closer to me in his slumber until I could feel his breath on my neck; shallow, careful breaths.
I always wondered if it were for his nightmares. It probably was. He was probably afraid to loose me in any such way, even in his lost world of sleep.
He always breathed in a skippy fashion when he was totally deeply in sleep, his nightmares catching up with him and doing whatever bad to him they should.
It could be the same one over and over, but the truth was that the reoccurances will build up until he breaks and he will believe it to be some sort of sign.
I alway thought of what if I was to actually die.. In the times where I feel pressured by surrounding occurances and beat up by my own self protrayed insults, I get all sad and remember all the bad in my life, letting it all take a slap to my face at once. But if I were actually to die, being away from him would be a worse feeling than with standing a week or two of constant mood change and a pulse pounding in my brain.
But that feeling always seemed to fade when I remembered I had to think of him, how much I have already broken him, forcing him towards the dark outskirts of him brain, getting him to feel as dark as I sometimes do. Let him cry to himself as he witnesses his dreams slowly be a clearer sort of reality. I didn't want that for him. I could never want that for him.
It was clear that I couldn't walk away when times get rough, even if it was so hard and heart breaking to let myself go on and eat away my brain with the thoughts of sorrow, but it would be the hardest thing to say goodbye to him.
My best friend. My love. My bed breaker. My perfectly broken up Alex.
I could see that he would never last with the pressure of having to predict me, my words, my actions. Having to go along with all my baggage as if it were his own. He just truely cared and I felt he could be the only person to care in such a way, so stuck to me even when it got dirty.
He stayed for he knew of the burning in his heart which he revealed. I would always wonder when he actually started to like me in such a way. I knew it was for him caring, having such a preciously big heart to share with me. He probably hadn't known really when friends started to feel wrong to say.
It was probably because of the long lust being unveiled that we were so ready for our feeling so quick, but in the long run it was probably totally idiotic.
We didn't seem ready at first, we actually nearly had to learn to have truthfully loving ways with each other.
I would of killed my own self for him. I think that's when everything began to be clear. When his love seemed so totally special and needed. Before that it was basically all about our physical desires, lust getting in the way and clouding my mind with erotic thoughts, thinking the innocence he would have even then pleasing.
It was a bit of a change of heart type of thing for me, being aroused one minute then suddenly realising how totally precious and youthful this person really was. He might of even been naive, taking love by the finger tips and trying to grip on. But it was all the bad things we went through that kind of made us... well Jack and Alex. It would be impossible to be sigular after almost seven months of all this. We went througj so much more than I can think possible for its time span.
As I recalled the murmured ghostly shouts of memories of unneeded fights, I look at the pictures in my mind of him, the noise slowly fading away at the call of these new memories.
