Alex

A week had passed since I last talked to Jack. The second day after my outburst I had wanted to apologize, but Jack had quietly slipped out of the house in the morning. Zack had given him the keys and so Jack used them to come back late at night, avoiding me completely.

I understood him and at the same time felt annoyed – he hadn’t accepted the fact that he had to deal with this problem, not avoid it. I also felt somewhat relieved because I didn’t really want to have a conversation with the boy just yet. I wasn’t sure what, but something had turned a switch inside me and all the anger had just come tumbling back into my head. The pity was somewhere in there as well, but at the moment I purely hated the boy and I wasn’t sure what the precise reason for the hatred was.

Having just come back from the bar after getting some drinks with Rian, I walked into the kitchen to make myself coffee.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t drunk. In fact, I hate drinking so I try to avoid it as much as possible. But today had overstepped the meaning of a bad day. Firstly, I forgot the lyrics to one of the songs that meant the most to me. Secondly, I spotted some of Josh’s friends in the club. And then thirdly, as soon as I was off the stage, I heard laughter and obviously decided that turning around was a good idea. My eyes connected with Josh’s while he was in mid-dance with some random dude I had never seen before. Anger and panic had both exploded inside of me, so when Rian asked me if I wanted a drink, I had agreed, too fucking done with everything to say no.

And now that I was home alone, the mixture of alcohol, hurt and anger kept me on the edge. Which was why when I heard the front door open and someone stumble in, I was quick to realize it was Jack.

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, probably thinking I was out since I hadn’t bothered to turn the lights on.

“What a fucking wonderful day,” he swore, walking into the living room and falling onto the couch. The view was pretty funny, but there was something very off about the boy so I kept silent.

“Fix your life, you little shit. Why the fuck am I even bothering?” he continued babbling. “No one wants me anyway. I could disappear and no one would even notice. Oh, that’s my fag son, yeah, I don’t care. Oh, that’s my fuck up of a brother, this was coming. Ah, that’s the shitthat loved me, I hate him,” he spat, looking at the ceiling before getting up again.

If I had considered feeling sorry for him a while ago, the moment he came stumbling into the kitchen and our eyes met, it was all gone.

“Care to explain why you’re drunk?” I asked in annoyance as I turned on the lights.

He seemed to grow pale before crossing his arms over his chest in defense. “You’re not my father, it’s none of your business,” he huffed.

I raised an eyebrow. “Last time I checked, your arse was living in my house. Which means it is my business when you come home drunk while it's not even legal,” I told him through gritted teeth.

“Oh, sorry, mister. It must be terrible to have such a pain in the ass living in your house,” he shouted back at me, surprising me. Alcohol was clearly giving him some kind of a spark.

“It is, in fact. I took you under this roof because you got your scrawny arse kicked out onto the streets. So apologies for showing some kind of concern!” I had no idea what made me say those words, perhaps the alcohol in my own system was letting them break free, or maybe it was the fact that something about this kid was just driving me over the edge.

I expected the boy to hesitate and perhaps walk away, but what he did next surprised me. His irritation returned in full force.

“Concern? Oh, how nice! I don’t need your fucking concern. I’ve made it clear that I fucking love you and you’ve made it clear that you don’t give a single fuck about me. You’ve made it as clear as it’s fucking possible. And you know what, fuck you! You have no idea what it’s like to love someone who is clearly being an ignorant fucking prick!” he spat, voice filled with venom and his breathing quickening.

“For fuck’s sake, kid, I’ve told you that you don’t even understand the fucking meaning of the word! You don’t love me, you just feel lust!” I shouted back at him.

“Christ, I’m not some fucking kid! You don’t know me and you don’t know what I feel! So shut the fuck up because I do love you and it's the single thing no one can take away from me!”

I laughed at him. “Oh, grow up, won’t you? I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I can’t see you. You just want to have a go. That’s certainly not love. You weren’t lonely and you’re definitely not in love. You just want me to fuck you. I know how teenage boys work, kiddo,” I sneered and walked over to him.

His cheeks tinted red as I closed the distance between us. “That’s not t-true,” he stuttered again, unable to hide his nervousness.

“Oh, but it is. Look at you,” I smirked at him and lightly pressed myself against him, the kid shuddering at my touch. “See?” I laughed and stepped back.

“Now that I’ve proven my point so clearly, what else do you have to say, boy?” A smug look spread on my face.

“If anything, you’ve just managed to prove that you’re way out of practice, old man. And an arrogant jerk on top of that,” he smiled, his cocky attitude returning as if I hadn’t even done a single thing and driving me mad.

“Excuse me?” I spat.

“Oh, but you heard me, Lex,” he sneered.

“I told you not to call me that! You’re such a fucking-”

“Why don’t you do something about it then, Lexy? Prove me wrong. Prove me I'm the typical teenage boy,” he crossed his arms again, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Prove me you're not a fucking coward."

Notes

Can I like say "warning: bad grammar" when it's too late already? I know this was kinda shorter too, but some kind of a cliffhanger, right? Wooooaaah~