Social Suicide (BxB) / On Hold

Chapter 27

Alex was dreaming, or at least he thought he was. Vivid, flashing scenes were running through his mind like gunshots. He blinked. Memories from the previous day resurfaced and, in his dreamlike state, Alex was aware of someone in his room. He thought he heard his dad and Ashton talking in lowered voices. Alex's heart swelled at the thought of Ashton. It had been days since they'd talked, and Alex had missed him more than he had expected. Alex was stuck at once by the feelings that filled him whenever Ashton was around. It was dangerous, he decided, that he was already so dependant on the other. All he wanted to do was to kiss him, yet he couldn't move.

In Alex's head, there was an inescapable throbbing. He could feel pain coursing through his system, white, cold and searing. Something had happened to him - but what? In his dreamlike state, he couldn't quite remember. But he knew that this pain had something to do with Ashton. 

Alex stirred, and a fleeting memory came over him. He remembered leaving school the previous afternoon. He'd taken care that day to totally avoid Ashton because, for some reason, he couldn't face him after their night together. Alex couldn't deny his feelings, but he could hide from them, and that was something he did without any struggle. So, after a full day of avoiding Ashton and everything to do with him, Alex was surprised when he was suddenly surrounded by a large group of Ashton's friends and teammates. 

The big one - Blake, Alex thought his name was - spoke first.

"Hey faggot," Blake had called, his voice laced with venom, "where do you think you're going?"

Despite the fear and panic slowly building up inside him, Alex indulged in a rare grin. Blake couldn't be more cliche if he tried, and Alex wondered how he could best escape this situation. He glanced behind him. The only objects near him were some feeble twigs and sticks, and a large number of Blake's friends blocked his way to the exit. He had no weapons, and knew that he was nowhere near strong enough to take them on. Alex had no choice but to talk his way out of this.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he muttered, pulling on his bag with shaking fingers. Did Ashton somehow let it slip that they were together? There was no way, Alex thought. He was smarter than that. They both were. 

"You know, you probably think no one's noticed how close you and our buddy are becoming," Blake sneered. Alex looked up as the group crowded around him further. Any closer, and they'd be close enough to grab him. "You probably think that you're special," Blake continued, "that Ashton chose you over everyone else."

Alex's eyes narrowed at Blake. "You sound jealous, Blake," he retorted, voice thin with fear. "Something you're not telling us?"

Blake scoffed, his voice lowering with hidden rage. "You want me to tell you something, fag?" he spewed, sending spit flying. Alex took a step back, worried by sheer, unadulterated hatred in his eyes. "Ashton's just messing with you like he always does. He doesn't care one bit about you; he never did."

"Bullsh*t," Alex replied. But something inside him triggered at Blake's words. Was it true? How else would his friends know about their relationship unless Ashton had bragged about it? Had Ashton's goals mearly been to turn Alex and make him the laughing stock of the school? He pushed the thought out of his head for the moment, bringing himself back to reality. Alex needed to find a way out of there before things got any worse, and he had a feeling that they would. 

"Did you really think that the most popular, desired guy in the school would fall for a nobody like you?" Blake said, lunging forward to hold Alex in place. "How pathetic." 

Alex leaned back, struggling to break the vice-like grip on his forearm. "You're pathetic," he muttered before spitting in Blake's face on impulse. He smiled. It was a small and petty move, one that filled Alex with victory momentarily. His satisfied grin, however, faced quickly as Blake regained his dignity and sent his free arm flying towards Alex's face. He heard the impact before he felt it, and Alex was pushed backward by the momentum of the hit. Alex flinched in his sleep as the memory of what happened next crystalised, becoming clearer with every passing second. He remembered how the group had, as if triggered by a switch, closed in on him, sending punches and kicks in all directions. He had struggled to stay on his feet, knowing that if he let his body fall, it would all be over and that he would be totally defenceless. Alex raised his arms to ward off the blows and could feel the bruises forming on his biceps and body. Alex knew he had to get out while he still could. Projecting every bit of energy he could muster into his legs, Alex bushed against the gang, breaking free of the circle. And he ran with a speed he never believed possible.

Being chased was nothing like the movies. The stars always looked heroic, sexy and in command of the situation. But reality, Alex thought, was far removed from that studio-produced version. Alex's souls crashed ungracefully into the asphalt a few times before he transitioned to the balls of his feet. His face, within moments, was flushed red, and all he could feel was pure panic...

Alex woke as if it was an emergency; as if sleeping had become a dangerous thing. His heart beat fast and there was a buzzing in his brain as panic took over. Alex turned, relieved to feel the cool bedsheets against his skin. He was home now; he was safe. Pain exuded from his jaw and ribs, reminding Alex that his memories had, in fact, been correct. 

Alex lept from his bed without warning, feeling someone prod his ribs gently. He gasped as he felt a cool towel being pushed against his head, and opened his eyes. The room was painfully bright, and he could just make out his parents' figures. They were both gazing at him with serious expressions, worry dripping from their features.

"Alex," his mum said, "are you feeling alright?"

Alex felt hopeful, aware that this was the first time they'd talked since he had told her about his and Ashton's relationship. Ashton. Just thinking of him sent a blow to Ashton's stomach. Suddenly, another feeling rose in him; suspicion. According to Ashton's friends, Ashton had betrayed him. He'd played him just like he'd played everyone else. Alex shook his head, attempting to remove the intrusive thoughts. But he couldn't. Not after everything that had just happened. 

"Yes mum, I'm fine," he said. But, deep down, he was feeling anything but fine.

*   *   *

Getting dressed for school the next morning was more of a chore than ever. Alex, quite simply, felt horrible. Every movement required more energy than usual, and he couldn't even muster up the will to brush his now ragged hair. After showing, which did nothing to improve his mood, Alex stood and stared at himself in the mirror, or at least at the distorted image of himself. The mirror showed him the person the world saw, all they saw, somehow it didn't seem right. Inside he was a combination of emotions; confusion, love and frustration, fear. Yet all others saw was brown hair and the kind of brown eyes you forget while you're still looking at them. He ran a finger over the frame, feeling its cool ridges and grooves and the layer of dust that clung to its surface. Today, of all days, Alex wished he could just stay at home. 

After getting dressed slowly, Alex grabbed a muesli bar and flew out of the door. Instead of going past Ashton's house, he went the long way and arrived at school a few minutes late accordingly. Alex was glad for this, though, as it meant he'd be able to avoid his friends' questions about how he was doing. Naturally, he'd texted them about how he'd been 'beaten up,' but hadn't really got into the details, and halia, being the stubborn person she was, wouldn't let him rest until he'd told her who had done it. When he'd finally admitted that it was Ashton's friends, he knew that she'd be simmering in rage for months, and really didn't want to be around to witness her fury. 

Despite receiving pitying looks from his peers about his dishevelled appearance, Alex felt that he blended in well enough to stay out of trouble. He made sure to wear a hoodie where possible and avoided the halls where Ashton's friends were normally present. But that, by extension, meant that he was avoiding Ashton too. Alex would be lieing to himself if he said that he didn't miss talking to the other, but at the same time, he couldn't shake that feeling that he was being used. Perhaps their relationship was just too good to be true...

At lunch that day, everyone was excited. It was the day of the school dance, and everyone was caught up in preparations.

"Hey, Alex," Thalia asked, leaning across their table, "you're still going to the dance with me, right? I've already coordinated our outfits, so you better be going."

"Oh," Alex blinked. He'd totally forgotten about their arrangement, but knew it was too late to change his mind. "Of course - I mean, who else would I go with?" Ashton. The voice in his head muttered, much to Alex's annoyance. 

"You two are going to the dance together?" Nathan smirked, winking at the pair. "If this isn't the beginning of a blossoming relationship, then I don't know what is." Alex scoffed while Thalia blushed. If only they knew. 

"Come off it, Nate," Alex said, smiling to mask his irritation. Could they really not see that he had no feelings for Thalia? And she, clearly, had no feelings for him.

Or so he hoped.