My Song Has Not Been Sung

Alex was the son of Baltimore’s district attorney. His father was offered the job after he represented the city of London in a case of treason against the entire country. A group of corrupt computer hackers threatened to release files containing the UN’s military offensive plans to a terrorist organization. His father won and in a matter of days, Baltimore’s court office was ringing to fill a new found job opening. The old DA had been recalled after it was proven he had ties to the KKK. After two weeks, Alex and his family had packed up and moved to the states.

Of course he had to be elected, but Peter Gaskarth had no trouble getting the people’s vote after what he pulled in the U.K.. He barely even campaigned.

So here Alex was, holding a rather heavy box with his most valuable possessions (except for his guitar but that was hanging across his back by its strap), outside a door to an apartment that probably cost more than the average mansion. The flat dominated the top floor of the building and a large part of the floor beneath it. Guess you really can’t call it a flat anymore.

His mother, Isobel, opened the door to reveal an ornate entryway with an equally fancy staircase leading both up to a spacious loft and down to the lower level of the building. Alex peeked in, slightly cautious, and took in the massive home.

To his left was a shining kitchen with enough space for six people to cook around each other comfortably. To his right was a modern living room including a flat screen television that took up about half the wall the couches all faced. Lastly, in front of him was a wall made completely of crystal clear glass.

“So your father and I took a tour over the webcam with our real estate agent, but we know that you haven’t had the chance to look around,” Isobel began, “I have to go to my new office and your dad has to check up with his ADA so you can explore to your heart’s delight. The loft is completely yours, you have our numbers and work addresses, everything you need is definitely in walking distance, and the doorman should be bringing the rest of your things to your room. We may not be home in time for supper but there are menus to every restaurant in the area in the kitchen so feel free to order in. Also your new laptop arrives tomorrow so you can start school soon.”

Alex could only bring himself to nod in response. His mum kissed his cheek before exiting to join his dad in the doorway. They waved goodbye and left before Alex could properly comprehend what was happening.

He moved in a daze up the stairs and walked into every room in the open style space. So far, there were five rooms and only two were bed and bath. The bedroom was almost the largest, it’s only worthy competitor being the studio. Or at least Alex thought it was a studio. It looked like all the walls were sound proofed and it had a proper recording station with a complete sound board. There was a closet inside the space that was stuffed with what looked like every possible kind of microphone and amplifier.

When Alex finally left his studio, he took time to investigate his bedroom. It was massive with a king bed in its center. One wall had a shelf that looked just big enough for a record player and many square book case slots surrounding it. On either sides of the record shelf and cases were curved CD shelves.

On the opposite wall, there was an opened door leading into a private bathroom. The rest of the wall was entirely empty, plenty of space for posters. Apparently, Alex’s parents had the same idea seeing as there was a box of thumbtacks on the nightstand next to the bed.

Lastly, the wall the bed faced had nothing but a small dresser and double doors leading into a full walk-in closet. Inside the closet, there were enough shelves and general space to store roughly the amount of clothes kept in three entire stores and every wall was just endless mirrors.

I am never going to leave this house. Alex thought to himself. He put down the box he had been carrying throughout his home tour, propped his guitar against one of the CD shelves, and dived onto the gigantic bed. He was soon engulfed in fluffy blankets and a dozen pillows. His body sank away from the real world, into the comforting memory foam. He could have fallen asleep right there, but the excitement was pumping through his veins like adrenaline.

He bolted down the stairs, two at a time. Now he wasn’t carrying the box he had brought up and the initial anxiety was fading quickly. He ran into a side room off the kitchen that appeared to be a normal bathroom at first, but he noticed the bidet and jacuzzi soon enough. After exploring the downstairs, only to discover his parents’ bedroom and a theater, Alex decided he wanted to start unpacking. Well, get food then unpack.

Just like his mother promised, there were menus to every restaurant that delivered waiting in the fridge. Many of the places were five star with menus written entirely in French. However, Alex figured pizza would be just fine.

Once he finished ringing Pizza Hut and trying to understand whatever East Coast-American accent that was being spit through the phone at him, Alex called down to the doorman so his food would be brought up to him. He also grabbed his mum’s work card to double check if the credit card she gave him was activated.

Isobel didn’t answer the phone of course seeing as she landed a high paying job as a stockbroker who could easily have worked on Wall Street if they had moved to New York.
Let’s hope this card works otherwise I’m gonna have to dig around in those boxes for my wallet. That’ll only take four hours. Alex grumbled to himself.

He grabbed the smallest looking box off the floor where the doorman had left it and hauled it up to his room. This happened to be one of the CD boxes so Alex couldn’t actually begin the unpacking process until he had gotten the other five. He sat on his floor with all his CD’s spread out in front of him while he decided how to organize them until the pizza arrived.

The pizza boy was slightly taller than Alex with dark brown hair and a few streaks of blonde running through it. He looked pretty awestruck to be standing outside such an expensive apartment. Alex took the food and gave him the money as quick as he could, wanting to avoid the trouble of deciphering another impossible-to-understand accent.

Alex went straight back up to his room with more boxes of things to set-up. As he placed his belongings inside a room of a home paid for by two people with some of the best and highest paying jobs in the state, he knew he was going to like his new life.

Notes

Heads up, Alex and Jack don't properly meet each other until the fourth chapter. Anyways, I was working on a different story but I have no attention span what-so-ever so after marathoning some SVU, I thought of this idea and spent a week writing it. I'll probably be bouncing between this one and my other one but before you read either, you should know that I am absolute shit at updating.

Title Creds: So Long Solider - All Time Low

Your boy, PJ