The Beach House

Jack stands in front of the old blue house and sighs, clutching his suitcase so tightly that his knuckles are rapidly turning white. The scene before his eyes is picturesque, with a crimson sun setting behind the dark blue waves crashing against white sand. His feet are planted firmly on bright green grass and yellow daisies dance in the wind. He should have been happy and relaxed; however, he was anything but. Beyond the white, painted door and shutters was a house full of memories, both good and bad, but ones that he wanted more than anything to forget. He didn’t know why he’d agreed to come in the first place.

“Look Jack, it’s been five years. We haven’t rented it out in a really long time, we might as well just sell it and split the profits. I think it would be best.”

Jack had agreed, even if it meant selling all of the memories he’d shared in that house with his ex-husband, Alex. They’d divorced five years ago. It had been ugly, but once the process began, it was over in a blink. Sometimes Jack wonders where they’d be now if they hadn’t had gone through with the divorce. Then he remembers that it had to be done and everything returns to normal.

His feet trudge his body forward and he takes a deep breath, preparing himself. He hasn’t seen
Alex in a very long time and he doesn’t know what to expect. Had his ex-husband changed physically? Internally? Are there still hard feelings from Alex’s side? Biting his lip, he presses his knuckles against the white wood and knocks.

There is a muffled shuffle from the other side of the door and Jack can also hear PVRIS’s cover of “Chandelier.” He smiles to himself. Alex had always been a major fan of that band and Jack is pleased to see that that fact had not changed.

When the door finally opens, Jack’s pounding heartbeat slows to almost a complete stop. Right before his eyes is his ex-husband, whom he has not seen in years. He has not changed much.
His hair is still a medium brown and cut into punk-ish layers. His eyes are still that deep, deep brown. But there are deep lines underneath them and they are red-rimmed. He has a small smile on his face and there are wrinkles around his mouth. Alex is tired, that much Jack can tell. Alex is wearing a red and black checked flannel shirt. The long sleeves are pulled up and it’s unbuttoned, revealing a white t-shirt. His jeans are skinny, impossibly tight, and jet black. On his feet are black vans with no laces. When they were married, this was Jack’s favorite outfit that Alex wore. It still is, he decides quickly.

“Hi Jack,” Alex says shyly, opening the door more widely. He leans against it and he stares hard at his ex-husband.

Jack clears his throat before looking around. “Hey…,” he whispers, eyes darting around. “H-how are you?”

Alex smiles softly. “I’m doing okay. How are you?”

Jack is thrown off by Alex’s okay. He had expected him to be great, or to at least lie about it. No such luck there. “I’m…Well, I’m good,” he finally stutters.

“That’s good. Why don’t you come in?” Alex asks, the small smile still faint on his features.

Jack nods. “R-right. Yeah, that makes sense.” He tightens his grip on his suitcase and follows Alex into the house.

Everything is just as he remembers it. The living room is homey, with light turquoise and white furniture and dark brown hardwood flooring. It’s decorated a bit obnoxiously, with shells and other beach paraphernalia. But that’s Alex. He loves the beach and he’d always dreamed of having a true beach house and so that’s what he’d gotten. Jack had always spoiled Alex in that way.

“I put my stuff in the guest room,” Alex says quietly, “so you can have the master. If that’s okay?”

Jack nods. It’s nice of Alex to give him the master, especially considering it has an adjoining bathroom. However, it’s also the room that Jack and Alex had shared every time they’d stayed in the house. “Thanks,” he replies, taking his suitcase and heading into the master bedroom.
It’s about the same, too. The bed is still a California king and it still has a huge, dark wooden bed frame. The rest of the furniture matches it and the carpet is white and plush. Once upon a time, the walls had been adorned with photos of himself and Alex, but those had long since disappeared. In a weird way, Jack missed the pictures.

He sets his suitcase on the bed and starts to unpack. He puts his clothing in the drawers and the closet and his toiletries in the bathroom, just as he’d done before. It’s strange, but it’s also familiar. He finishes quickly, but he waits a while before heading back into the living space.
Seeing Alex gives him a rough feeling. It’s a bizarre amalgamation between nostalgia and sorrow and rage and joy. It makes his chest and head hurt and honestly, he doesn’t want to deal with it. He shouldn’t have come.

Eventually, he forces his legs to move and he meanders back into the main area of the house.
He can smell chicken Alfredo emanating from the kitchen and Jack’s Mannequin’s Everything in Transit album is cranked up loud. Jack knows this album by heart and he can tell you that track three, “Bruised” is playing in a blink. Chicken Alfredo had been Jack’s favorite meal that Alex used to make. This feels strange, wrong even. It’s like Alex has practically taken a video straight from their past and is playing it right before Jack’s eyes.
When he makes it back to the kitchen, he can see that Alex is plating up food and tapping his foot along with the music. He’s silent for a moment as he watches his ex-husband, the pull of a smile tugging at his lips. Alex looks adorable, as he always had. But Jack could not be thinking that now.

He clears his throat and Alex turns around, a bright red blush creeping along his cheeks. Jack chuckles and grabs the large bowl of salad that Alex has prepared.

“You really didn’t have to go to any trouble,” Jack says, placing it gently on the table.

Alex blushes more and shrugs. “I…Well, I asked you to come here. It was the least I could do.”
He sets things up before bolting up again and grabs a bottle of Merlot and two glasses.

Jack frowns. “That’s very expensive.”

Alex nods. “Y-yeah, but it was in one of the cabinets. It’s been here a while.” Jack can tell by the blush that it was their wine, one that they’d had when they were married.

Jack doesn’t reply then because it’s peculiar. It almost feels like they’re married again, what with the food and the music and the wine. And just the house itself. He wonders if Alex is doing this purposefully or if he’s just going off of instinct. Whatever the reason, Jack shrugs off the peculiar feeling and settles down at the table. Alex follows soon after and begins to plate up their food. He gives Jack his first and then he pours their wine. Jack thanks him again before
digging in. It’s as good as it always was.

“H-how’s work?” Alex asks timidly. Once the words are out of his mouth, he takes a long drink of wine, as if he’s trying to hide his face.

Jack shrugs. “The same as it’s always been. Boring.” Jack had been a pharmaceutical sales representative for five years now. He liked traveling and he liked the money, but what he did not like was the monotonous speeches he constantly had to give to the different hospitals and clinics, all but begging them to buy his company’s products. It got old and it was annoying most of the time, not just to the people he bombarded, but to himself, as well. “How’s yours?”

Alex doesn’t look Jack in the eye. “I’m working on a book of p-poems.”

Jack’s face breaks out into a smile. Alex has always been a writer, whether it be of short stories, poetry, or songs, he had always loved it. And whether he believed so or not, he was good. Really good. Jack had always admired his talent so much and to hear that he was working on a published book pleased him. He even felt proud. “Really? That’s so great, Alex! I always said it would happen one day.”

Alex’s face is bright and blushing for a moment before the two of them realize what has been said. Jack has brought up their past and an awkward, almost somber tension falls over them.
Quickly, Jack comes up with a distraction.

“How’s Hewitt?” Jack asks, taking a long, much needed sip of wine. Hewitt & Co. is the publishing company that Alex has been working at as an editor for the past few years or so. As far as Jack knows, at least. He was working there when they divorced.

Instantly, Alex pales. “I…I-it’s normal,” he stammers, twirling pasta on his fork.

Alex apparently still works there, but Jack can tell from his ex-husband’s reaction that it is
anything but normal. However, he chooses to ignore it and go on. “That’s good,” Jack replies quietly. “Change isn’t always good.”

“No,” Alex whispers sadly. “It certainly isn’t.

Jack’s done it again, unwittingly brought up the past. He sighs and finishes off his wine because there isn’t anything he can say to make it better. Not even small talk will do.

It’s silent between the two of them for the remainder of dinner. Awkward, too, and once Jack has done the dishes (Alex cooked so naturally, he cleaned up, which is again, reminiscent of their married life), he heads straight to his room for the night and goes to bed.

Jack doesn’t sleep. He can’t. How can he when he’s never slept in this particular bed, this particular bed, this particular house without Alex. Over the course of the years, he’s learned how to do things without Alex being present, but this is different. Alex is everywhere here. His scent is even on the sheets (Tide and Downy with a hint of cologne). It was much, much easier to not think about Alex when he wasn’t so fucking close.

When Jack turns on his side and finally falls asleep, it’s nearing dawn.

*

Jack wakes up the next morning and Alex is making French toast. The cinnamon and maple syrup blended scent is one that he frequently woke up to when he and Alex were married and one that he had always welcomed. There was nothing better than waking up to French toast and Alex, too.

But that was five years ago, he thinks to himself, crawling out of bed and heading straight for the shower. He turns on the water and reiterates to himself that he just has to make it through today and that he can leave tomorrow morning. Then he can go back to his life and pretending that he and Alex were never anything at all. He also knows that he can pretend that he and
Alex were not married and act as if he does not care, but that doesn’t make it true.

When he finishes his shower, he towels off and looks at himself in the mirror. His eyes are distressed and the lines on his face are even more visible. It’s nice, he thinks, that Alex is bringing out his age. Jack isn't old by any means, but he’s not young anymore, either. Alex is a true testament to that.

Once he’s dressed and brushed his teeth (he barely bothers with his hair and doesn’t trust his growing facial hair), he heads back into the kitchen where he can hear Alex humming softly to himself. There is no music playing and Jack doesn’t recognize the tune. He stops in the living room, just listening to Alex’s humming. His voice had always been pretty and Jack liked it a lot. His eyes scan the room and notice a typed group of papers sitting almost hush-hush. Because he recognizes everything else in the room from when he was married, he deduces quickly that these papers are not only new, but also not his and therefore not for his eyes. He picks them up anyway and scans it.

It’s poetry, he decides very early on. Sad poetry, at that.

Get me out of this place, before I cause more damage,

A small price to pay for building houses out of matchsticks,

And when things get too hard, you’ve got me blame;

For every fire that breaks out in every lover’s name.

Don’t forget we’ve got unfinished business,

Stories left to unfold, tales that must be retold,

And I regret not knowing when to put an end to all this madness,

Keeps me wanting,

Keeps me wanting more.

Jack shook his head, placing the papers down on the table. It was just a coincidence that Alex had a poem that was so incredibly relevant to their lives. There was no way that it was actually about them.

“I’m working on a book of p-poems.”

Except, it was about them. Alex had written it, and he’d written it about Jack.

Jack wondered if the entire book of poems was about him. If so, that was a waste. Jack didn’t believe that he was anything special and certainly did not deserve an entire book of poems written about him, especially not with Alex’s talent.

Sighing, he walks into the kitchen. This time, the food is completely ready and Alex already has
everything set out on the table. He’s sitting by himself, seemingly waiting for Jack. He’s dressed more casually today, in just more loose skinny jeans and a black NOFX t-shirt. He’s looking down at the table with his hands folded.

Jack clears his throat and gives Alex a small smile and he jumps.

“S-sorry,” Alex says, “sit down. I made breakfast.”

Jack sits down, frowning. When they were married and even before, Alex had been prone to anxiety and panic attacks, but it had never been like this. Something was very, very wrong with his ex-husband and he knew that he should ask him to try to to get to the bottom of it. But asking too many questions can also set forth the wrong idea, which is something that Jack did not come here to do.

“You really didn’t have to,” Jack says, plating himself up a favorable helping of the French toast and bacon that Alex had prepared.

Alex shrugs. “Yeah, I know. But like I said last night, I asked you to come here. You shouldn’t
have to worry about food.”

Jack shrugs, hiding a small smile. Alex was ever the generous one.

“So…There’s a couple boxes and drawers I want us to go through,” Jack hears Alex talking and looks up at him, but Alex is staring down at his own plate. “And then we need to check out the house as a whole so that we know that we’re not leaving anything behind. And th-that’s pretty much it.”

The finality of it all hits home for Jack, just like the divorce had. When he’d signed the papers, it had felt so incredibly odd. His signature on a simple piece of paper had written off the past three years of his life. It had hurt a lot, even though he was the one that had supposedly wanted the divorce.

But nothing had hurt more than Alex sitting across from him with his lawyer, tears falling from his eyes pathetically. He had tried so hard to hold them in, but he’d been unable to and had ended up sobbing and having to leave the room. That had hurt.

“I-is that okay?” snaps Jack back to where he is, sitting across from Alex in their beach house, eating French toast and having Mimosas. This had been a typical morning for them when they were married and it was nice.

But they weren’t married anymore.

“Yeah,” Jack nods, swallowing all of his orange juice. “It’s perfect.”

*

Once the breakfast dishes are put away, Alex leaves to collect the boxes that they need to go through. As he’s doing this, Jack goes through the rooms and absentmindedly looks for their forgotten possessions. He doesn’t expect to find much, considering Alex and his friend, Vic, had done a fairly thorough sweep of the house after the divorce. He does, however, find one of his own guitar picks, a picture of Alex’s parents, and an old O-Town album.

He takes his findings to the living room where Alex is perched cross-legged on the rug, poring over a box of things. He doesn’t notice Jack and so Jack sneaks in and slides the album into
the CD player.

Alex frowns before looking up and seeing Jack. Thankfully, he doesn’t jump this time, he just barely smiles.

“Why is that still here?” Alex asks, a small chuckle escaping from his lips.

Jack sits down across from him and cracks a smile. “I don’t know. I would have thought for sure that Rian and Zack would have kept it.”

While Jack and Alex had usually preferred to keep this house to themselves, there had been a couple special occasions in which they had brought their friends with them for the weekend. On one particular weekend, they brought their best friends, Rian and Zack, whom, at the time were not dating. However, all it took was a few shots of Vodka and “All or Nothing” and they were slow dancing together on the kitchen table. After that, they’d brought that CD with them on every visit and slow danced to it, too.

“It was their thing,” Alex whispers. “How could they just forget it?”

Jack shrugs, a pang filling his heart. He hasn’t seen Rian and Zack in a long time. After the divorce, they’d all but totally sided with Alex and while Jack understood why, it still hurt him. He wouldn’t have completely abandoned them.

He reaches into another box and pulls out a tiny snow globe. It’s plastic and somewhat
meaningless, but it instantaneously makes him smile.

“Remember this?” Jack asks, holding it up for Alex to see.

Alex chuckles and nods.

One night, Jack and Alex were walking hand in hand on the boardwalk and Alex was chattering animatedly about all of the souvenir shops and game stands. “We’ve never bought anything here,” Alex had pointed out.

Jack had nodded. “Well, yeah. We’re here a lot of the time. We don’t really need a memento,
do we?”

Alex had pouted a little. “I mean…I guess not. But it would be nice to have something to commemorate this particular day, right?”

Jack shrugged. “Maybe.”

They’d passed the shops and had continued on without another word. However, while Alex had his back turned getting them each an ice cream cone, Jack had snuck away back to one of the shops. He’d picked up a tiny snow globe with a penguin trapped inside of it and had bought it quickly, just as he’d heard Alex calling his name.

He stepped out of the shop to see Alex tapping his foot and holding two vanilla ice cream cones.

“Why did you leave me?” Alex demanded, handing Jack his ice cream.

Jack took it and gave it a long lick before revealing what was behind his back. “To get you a present,” he said with a wink.

Alex eagerly took the snow globe from and gave it a good hard look before breaking out into a grin and holding it to his chest. “It’s so cute!” he’d exclaimed, throwing his arms around Jack.

Jack had grinned widely, leaning down to kiss Alex. Once he’d pulled away, Alex gave him a smile right back that made his knees weak.

“Thank you,” Alex whispered. “I love you so much.”

Jack had kissed him again. “You taste like vanilla.”

As quickly as Alex’s smile comes, it leaves. Jack knows that something is totally wrong with Alex and that he should ask him what it is, but he doesn’t. How can he, especially when he knows that it’s more than likely his own fault?

Alex looks down and pulls out his next item, a bottle of shells.

This one doesn’t make Jack laugh.

A couple weeks after Alex’s brother died, Jack decided to take him to the beach house for a week, instead of a weekend. They both needed a break from reality, Alex especially. His numbness was getting the best of him and Jack had simply wanted his husband back.
Jack had taken his hand and led him to the beach one night where they sat side by side, collecting seashells and not talking. Once the bottle was full, Jack spread out a blanket and the two of them laid together underneath the moonlight, watching the waves crash against the surface. Eventually, Alex curled into Jack’s side, something he hadn’t done in a long time.
Smiling, Jack wrapped his arms around him.

“Thank you,” Alex had whispered.

Jack kissed the top of his head. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

“I’d never have made it without you,” Alex whispers quietly.

Jack glances up at him, feeling the pang in his chest again, only this time, he actually wants to say something that might make Alex feel better. He opens his mouth, utterly unaware of what might come out.

Alex’s eyes are hopeful and he’s waiting patiently, gripping the bottle of shells tightly.

“Alex, I-”

A loud, angry ring interrupts him and he jumps before realizing that it’s his cell phone buzzing in his pocket.

He doesn’t have to look down to know that it’s his new boyfriend, Sean. He gives Alex an apologetic smile before he jumps to his feet and heads outside to speak to him.

“Hello?” he says , shutting the door.

“Hey, baby,” Sean says happily.

Jack smiles, happy to hear a voice that isn’t solemn. It’s all he’s heard since the night before.
“What’s up?” Jack asks, resting a hand on a pillar of the house.

“Nothing much,” Sean replies, “just miss you’s all. How are things going?” There’s an edge to
his voice that Jack recognizes easily. Sean hadn’t wanted him to go in the first place. He wouldn’t say why exactly, but Jack knew that it was due to the fact that Sean was secretly jealous of Alex. Jack rarely spoke of him and didn’t keep any photos of him out, but regardless, Alex would always be a tough act for anyone to follow.

Jack nodded to himself. “Miss you, too. And it’s pretty good, we’ve just about got everything squared away. The house will be on the market very, very soon.”

Jack met Sean at a bar a few months before. He’s blond, very, very skinny, and preppy. He’s the exact opposite of Alex and Jack’s convinced that this is why they got together in the first place.

“That’s great, baby,” Sean says.

Jack can picture him in his apartment, ankles crossed and resting on an ottoman, his phone in one hand and a mimosa in the other. Sean’s a big fan of alcohol. So much, in fact, that he is a bartender at the pub where they met. That is another thing that Jack really likes about him. He knows his liquor and how to handle it well. He’s a silly drunk, like Jack. Not a sad drunk, like Alex.

“I don’t have any reason to be jealous, do I?” Sean teases. At least, Jack thinks that he’s teasing. There’s also an edge to his voice and he almost wonders if there is a hint of truth in his question.

Jack snorts, because yes, he does have a reason to be jealous. “No,” he lies, forcing a chuckle. “You know that Alex and I were finished years ago. I don’t feel anything for him anymore. You’re all I want.”

Sean giggles. “Aww, that’s so sweet. I can’t wait to see-”
Whatever it is that Sean is saying is completely drowned out by a loud crash inside of the house. Jack jolts and turns around. He can’t see anything, but he knows that he needs to hang up now.

“I’ll talk to you later, babe,” he says quietly, “I gotta go.”

“Oh,” Sean replies. “Okay, I love you.”

Jack opens the door. “Me, too,” he says, hanging up. When he walks inside, he sees broken glass and Alex on the floor. He’s on his knees and he’s crying really hard. In fact, he’s sobbing, so hard that he can barely catch his breath. Jack frowns, dropping onto the floor beside him.

“Alex?” he says quietly, “what in the world happened?”

It breaks his heart to see Alex so distraught, especially when he has no clue what’s going on.
Alex sniffs hard and wipes at his eyes. An ugly chuckle rumbles from his throat and he points at the glass on the floor. Tears are still falling steadily from his eyes, but he’s not gasping for air anymore.

Jack peers down and sees that a small picture frame is in the middle of the glass. Careful not to cut his fingers, he picks it up and examines it. The image almost makes him cry, himself. It’s a small wallet-sized photo from their wedding. He remembers this one. The frame that it was in is shaped like a flip flop sandal and it’s blue with yellow seashells on it. Alex had placed it on their kitchen counter, up until the divorce, of course. Apparently, it was one of the items that had gotten shoved into a drawer and forgotten.

He sets the photo down as the pang in his chest becomes an ache. “What is it?” he asks Alex.

His ex-husband shakes his head. “I’m a fucking idiot, that’s what,” he whispers, shoving his face into his hands.

Jack frowns. “What do you mean?”

Alex chuckles again, the forced, ugly one that Jack doesn’t like. “You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed,” he says curtly. “I wore your favorite outfit, cooked your favorite meals, brought you back to our house, played your favorite album ever. Hell, I put you in the bed we used to share.
It’s pretty fucking obvious what I’ve been trying to do, is it not?”

Jack blinks. It is pretty fucking obvious, but Jack hadn’t seen any of this as any kind of ploy. He had just believed it to be Alex slipping into their old ways, still dependent on a routine. He shrugs. “I guess not. I didn’t notice.”

Alex snorts. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t really matter, anyway. I’ve been trying to conjure up how you used to feel about me and it wasn’t fair of me to do that. But I guess it doesn’t really matter because you feel so little about me that you didn’t even notice.” Alex’s shoulders are shaking and it’s clear that he’s trying his damnedest not to cry again. Jack’s heart makes a valiant effort to break again, but he’s completely speechless and he has no idea of how to make his ex feel any better.

“I don’t feel little for you,” Jack finally says quietly. He realizes how dumb that sounds the minute it leaves his lips, but he doesn’t know of anything else to say.

Alex huffs. “Yeah, like I believe that.” He heightens his voice and says, “you know that Alex and I were finished years ago. I don’t feel anything for him anymore,” in a mocking tone. “What the fuck do you call that, Jack? Which one of us are you lying to?”

Jack sighs, closing his eyes. This was exactly what he had hoped would not happen when he’d agreed to meet Alex here. “I don’t want to fight,” he says calmly.

“Yeah?” Alex asks, glaring right into Jack’s eyes. “Well, I didn’t want the divorce. But we don’t always get what we want, do we, Jack?”

Jack shuts his eyes, exasperated. He can’t believe that Alex is bringing this up now, five years since they ended the marriage. He had really expected Alex to be over it by now. But he clearly wasn’t and it looked like a knockdown, drag out was about to occur. That is, unless Jack left before it could happen.

He stood up, shaking his head. “I’m not doing this,” he says, standing up. “I came here to go through our house, not to drag up ancient fucking history. I don’t have to do this shit, Alex.”
Alex yelps, grabbing Jack’s wrist. “No!” he exclaimed. “I have waited five fucking years to say this to you and I’m gonna say it. You ruined my goddamn life. You owe me this much.”

Jack stops, defeated. He knows that what Alex is saying is true. He’d really messed up before and in all honesty, Alex hadn’t deserved it at all. He did owe him — a lot. But this would have to do for now, even if it really hurt to go down this road again. He sits down on the carpet across from Alex and sighs, biting his lip and waiting.

“It’s not fair,” Alex says, looking out the window, watching the waves from a great distance. Tears are filling his eyes again and he blinks furiously. “I loved you, Jack. I loved you so fucking much. I still love you that much, if not more. I’ve always heard that distance makes the heart grow fonder, but all it’s done is kill me. I’ve also heard that eventually numbness takes over sadness after a while, but it’s only gotten worse for me.” He sniffs, shaking his head. “I’ve been over it a thousand times and tried to wrap my head around what it is I could have done that made you not love me anymore, but I just can’t think of anything. Was I too spoiled? Did I expect too much? Was I a bad listener, a bad lover? What was it, Jack? Please tell me, because I just don’t fucking get it. I thought…,” he trails off, hiccuping. “I thought we were happy.”

Jack looks down at his hands, his heart hurting for Alex. “I…We were.” Again, he’s at a loss for words.

Alex shakes his head again, pulling his knees up to his chest. Jack notices that Alex looks so small, like a child who has been scolded or a kicked puppy. It hurts to see him like this, but he can’t dwell on it because he knows it’s all his fault.

“You don’t get it,” Alex whispers. “You don’t understand how fucking embarrassing it is to go to parties and events and be the only divorced person there. I’m divorced, Jack, and I’m only twenty-nine. People whisper about me being a failure because everyone knows why we got divorced and at first, everyone just took pity on me. That was bad enough. Poor pathetic Alex, the guy nobody loves. But now, everyone just thinks that I was a shitty husband because I couldn’t keep a man. They think…they think that I deserved to be cheated on because I wasn’t doing all that I could to make you happy,” he whimpers.

“B-but that’s not true because I did all that I knew to do. If I made you anything but happy, I’m s-sorry, but that was never what I wanted.” He sighed sadly, shaking his head again. “It’s so humiliating to show up to Zack and Rian’s and third wheel or to anything and just be single. To look around and to have n-no one to talk to because everyone’s talking about their kids and laughing with their husbands or wives and it just reminds me that you’re not with me anymore. It’s constant and it fucking kills me, Jack.”

Everything Alex says is like a bullet to Jack’s chest. He deserves it, he knows that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to hear. He exhales loudly, closing his eyes. “Alex,” he says quietly, trying to say something that might soothe the other man.

Alex ignores him, shaking his head again. “I thought maybe you coming up here would you make you realize that you felt the same way. Or maybe you had all along. B-but, apparently I was wrong. I didn’t even know that you had had a new boyfriend. I guess I really am the only pathetic one in this situation.” A fresh wave of tears comes over him and he buries his face in his knees.

Jack wants more than anything to crawl over to Alex, pull him into his arms and tell him that it’s going to be okay, but he can’t move. His cowardice has frozen him right to his spot on the floor.
Alex takes a deep breath and paws ruthlessly at his face in a sad attempt to clear his face of droplets. He clears his throat before he speaks again. “I wasn’t completely honest when I brought up selling the house, either.”

Jack raises an eyebrow and tilts his head in confusion. “What?”

Alex swallows hard and snorts again. “Yeah. Well, I’ve had a bit of a problem since the divorce with alcohol. I keep a bottle of vodka on my bedside table and I take my first drink of the day at seven a.m. A couple times, I was drunk before I even headed into work. I got a couple warnings, a couple meetings, a suspension, and finally, I was fired.” He chuckles. “And now, I’m gonna lose my house unless I somehow come up with a good sum of money, so I figured, what the hell?! Nobody rents this house anymore and I don’t fucking want it anymore unless I’m here with you, so I decided that I should spend my last few days at my favorite place in the world with my favorite person in the world.”

Jack’s heart really breaks then. When Alex said that Jack had ruined his life, he really hadn’t been exaggerating. He honestly can’t believe that Alex is so totally wrecked. He’d always been a strong person and this seemed so completely out of character for the other man. He bites his lip and hangs his head. “Alex, I’m so-”

“Don’t apologize,” Alex interjects. “I should have known better than to let myself get this way. It’s not entirely your fault. I should have known better than to get this attached to someone. People always leave. Daniel did. You did. It’s only a matter of time until everyone I care about does. I’m surprised that Zack and Rian and Vic and Kellin have put up with me this long, honestly.” He shrugs.

“But I was your husband,” Jack protests. “You were supposed to be attached to me.”

Alex nods. “Maybe. But it’s all in the past now, huh? The key word here is was, Jack. You were my husband. I was supposed to be attached to you. We signed it all away on a piece of paper. It’s not like we can go back and redo it. Nothing can be changed. I said what I wanted to say and we went through everything we were supposed to. Pretty soon, the house will be sold to someone new. You won’t have to ever th-think about me again.” His voice is breaking again and he swallows, fighting back tears.

Jack’s surprised by the irrefutability of all of this. That feeling of finality is back, but this time, it’s much harsher. When they signed the divorce papers, a lot had been unspoken and they still had many shared possessions, so there was still a connection. But now, Alex has said pretty much everything that was previously unsaid and their last shared item, their beloved beach house, is going to be someone else’s soon. He wants to tell Alex that he’ll never stop thinking about him, but he can’t. He’s speechless for the umpteenth time and his mouth feels impossibly dry.

“I’m sorry about all of this,” Alex squeaks, picking at a loose thread on his jeans. “It’s just that,” he starts, his voice cracking. “I’m so tired of living without you.”

At this, Jack feels his resolve absolutely crumble. It doesn’t really matter the consequences or what it might mean. Alex needs him and that’s it. He crawls over to the other man and takes his tear-stained face into his hands, forcing Alex to look at him. Alex sniffs and looks up at him questioningly. Before Alex can ask him what he’s doing, before he can lose his nerve, he leans down and brushes his lips against his ex-husband’s. Alex’s response is instant and then they’re kissing hard and fast and it’s just becoming teeth and tongue.

Jack moves his hands under Alex’s backside and gets to his feet. Alex wraps his legs around Jack’s waist, just like he had done so many times before. It’s so familiar, but it’s also so foreign. Alex is just as Jack remembers, but it’s been five years, five years too long, that is.

As essentially one entity, they go into the master bedroom and Jack drops Alex onto the bed. He rolls his shoulders once before settling himself down between Alex’s legs and kissing him again. They aren’t talking and Jack almost wishes that they were because there’s so much he wants to say. But he also knows that he can’t say anything now, for fear of ruining what they have going. Perhaps it will be just as well to show Alex what he’s feeling.

He kisses down Alex’s cheek to his neck and collarbone before rearing back to raise the shirt over Alex’s head. Alex’s face is so uncertain and shy, but it’s also so hopeful and there’s a small hint of a smile on his features, the happiest he’s looked all weekend. He quickly whisks off his own shirt and then sails back down, licking over one of Alex’s nipples.
Alex whimpers lowly and it’s barely audible. But Jack hears it and drags his tongue over and over the nipple and then catches it between his lips, biting down gently on it.
Alex moans then, a sexy loud moan that Jack has never forgotten about, but has dreamt of since the divorce. Nothing, absolutely nothing compares to Alex’s moans, at least not in Jack’s book.

Long, nimble fingers reach down and undo Alex’s jeans and Jack pulls them down to his mid-thighs before Alex raises his body up and shimmies out of them. Jack can’t help but look down at the dome in Alex’s boxers. He feels a sense of pride, knowing that Alex feels this way because of him, after all of these years. Jack wonders if Alex feels the same as his hand fumbles down and grips him through cotton. Alex’s breath hitches and hips thrust upwards, clearly hot and leaking.

Jack’s eyes travel back up to Alex’s chest and he can’t believe how impossibly thin he is. He can count each individual rib and his collarbones and hipbones are jutting out like knives, ready to slice him at any moment. For the longest time, Alex had had a bit of a pudgy tummy, but even that’s gone, too. He moves his hands to Alex’s hips, wanting to ask when he became such a stick, but he remembers then how fragile this situation is and he keeps his mouth shut. Instead, he ducks down and runs his tongue along the lines of Alex’s hipbones and into the v of his legs. Alex is squirming underneath him, his eyes silently pleading for him to touch him, because like Jack, he knows that he can’t say anything or everything will blow up even farther than it already has.

With a sigh, Jack unbuttons his own jeans and slides them down his own legs, so that now cotton boxer briefs are the only things separating the former lovers. Jack kisses Alex’s inner thighs to which Alex responds with his breath quickening in anticipation of what is to come. It dawns on Jack then that there will be no lube or condoms in the drawer beside them, like there used to be. He should stop now, he knows this because he’s going to hurt Alex otherwise. He’s not too concerned with the condom situation, because he knows that he himself is clean and he has always used condoms with Sean. He doesn’t know about Alex now, but he does know that Alex had never been one to just sleep with anyone. In fact, Jack had only been the second person that Alex had ever been with. He doesn’t want to stop and he comes up with a solution almost immediately.

Jack hurriedly pulls Alex’s boxers down to his ankles and Alex kicks them off into the floor. Quickly, Jack wraps his lips around the head of Alex’s cock and sucks on it slowly, with Alex moaning loudly underneath him, fingers grasping onto Jack’s hair tightly. Jack stops sucking after a while and licks completely down Alex’s length, over his balls and even further. He pulls away for just a moment to raise Alex’s legs a bit higher so that he has easier access and he begins to place small kisses around Alex’s entrance.

Alex cries out wildly at this, his legs shaking immensely. Jack had assumed he’d have this reaction. When they were married and even before, there was nothing Alex enjoyed more than being eaten out. Sometimes Jack had even wondered if he enjoyed this more than penetrative sex. He wonders that now, too, as he pushes his tongue in and out of Alex, before closing his mouth around the tight ring of muscle and sucking and licking hard. He tries to spread as much saliva as he can because he doesn’t want to physically hurt Alex now, with all of the emotional pain that he’d caused him prior to all of this. He pushes a finger in alongside his tongue and begins to stretch his walls. He adds another finger, spreading both of them apart in a scissoring motion.

“J-Jack, please,” Alex whispers. His voice almost scares Jack because it’s been so long since any words have been spoken between the two of them.

He nudges his nose against one of Alex’s hipbones, eyes downcast. “Hmm?” he whispers, knowing full well what Alex wants. He pulls his fingers out and licks up his length. Jack watches Alex come undone beneath him.

Alex whines, pushing his hips toward Jack. “F-fuck me,” he whispers, so quietly that it’s almost like Jack shouldn’t be hearing it, as if it’s a private thing for Alex only. But Jack does hear it and he nods. He rears back for a moment, staring down at Alex with soft eyes. Alex’s thighs are quivering and his shoulders are stiff, no doubt awaiting the initial pain that comes with the act. But his eyes are also shiny and alert and his lips are parted and Jack knows that he needs to just give him what he wants now.

Jack takes a deep breath, resting his hands on Alex’s hips before gently pushing inside of him. He swears at the contact. It’s been years and years since he’s had Alex like this, but the tight heat is still the same, still something that he loves so much. Much like Alex himself.

He takes a lot of willpower but he sits inside of Alex for a few moments, waiting for him to adjust. He doesn’t know how long it’s been for Alex and he doesn’t want to hurt him. But once Alex’s wincing stops and he nods his head, Jack’s thrusting into him like he always did before. His pace is slow at first, still afraid that Alex may not be adjusted to him, but he slowly quickens his speed and picks up a rhythm while Alex thrashes underneath him. Alex has always been very vocal, but somehow Jack has forgotten just how sexy the noises Alex made were. They make him thrust all that much faster, his thighs slapping against Alex’s.

Alex whimpers, wrapping his legs around Jack’s waist and pulling him in even more, if that’s possible. Jack tightens his grip on Alex’s hips and leans down to bite and suck at his neck. His thrusts grow faster and more erratic as time passes. It’s quiet in the room besides Alex’s soft moans and Jack’s low groans. Again, they’ve switched into their old routine, besides the fact that they aren’t talking. Before, they’d have been whispering about how much they loved each other and how good the other one felt. But that was then and this was now.

Jack angles his thrusts, searching for Alex’s prostate. Once upon a time, he had known exactly where it was, but now, he was having to work a bit harder. He tries over and over again until Alex screams, digging his fingernails deep into Jack’s back. Jack rubs against the spot again and again, growing even closer as he does so. He doesn’t want to cum before Alex, but he knows that he won’t last long.

“Close,” he whispers quietly as his thrusts become sloppy and uncoordinated. His hands are holding onto Alex’s hips as tightly as he can, no doubt leaving fingerprint-shaped bruises that will hurt and be present tomorrow.

Alex nods desperately, reaching down to touch himself. “Me, too,” he says just as quietly.
Jack slaps his hand away and jerks him off himself. That’s always been his job and it still is now. He doesn’t care if there’s some unwritten rule against it.

A couple more heavy fucks and Alex’s moaning and clenching has Jack coming hard, deep inside of Alex. He doesn’t stop moving as he cums, though. Instead, he thrusts into Alex a couple more times, riding it out. When he gains his composure, he leans down and presses a kiss softly to Alex’s forehead and then very gently pulls out. He lies down beside him and pulls him into his arms. He doesn’t know if Alex is okay with this, cuddling. And there’s also the issue of him having just cheated on his boyfriend, but he’ll deal with that later.

It’s silent between them for a few moment as Jack tries to calm down his beating heart and burning lungs. Alex is pressed into his side, as close as he can be. Jack’s trying to think of something to say when he feels a wetness on his shoulder. Alex is crying again.

“Alex?” Jack says dumbly, still unsure of what to say.

Alex sits up then, shaking his head and wiping his eyes furiously. “No,” he whimpers. “I don’t want you to pretend.”

Jack frowns. “Pretend?”

Alex shoots a look at Jack, shaking his head again. “Yes, pretend. I don’t want you pretending to love me when I know that you don’t.” He sniffs. “You fucked me because you feel sorry for me, not because you actually wanted me. And I let you because I’m pathetic, I know. But-”

“Alex,” Jack says again, firmer this time. “No one, absolutely no one, made me have sex with you. I did that. I wanted you. I’ve wanted you since the moment you opened the door. And honestly, I knew it was going to happen all along. Ever since you called, I knew something was going to happen. Was I expecting all of this? No. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want it.”

Alex bites his lip, sniffling. He takes a deep breath, before putting his face in his hands and crying again. For what, Jack isn’t sure. But he knows that’s there is only one way to stop it.

“I wasn’t Jack anymore,” Jack whispers quietly, after he watches Alex cry for a few moments. It’s barely audible, but he knows that Alex hears him because he looks up, his eyes red and tears staining his cheeks. “I was just half of ‘JackandAlex,’” he says, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know who I was without you. And I should have just talked to you about it, but I didn’t. I went to a bar and I became that old Jack that just got tipsy and fucked the first person that offered. I regret it every single day, but I can’t take it back. It was stupid, one of the worst mistakes I ever made. But like I said, I can’t take it back. If I could,
I would. But I just can’t.”

“W-we could have made it thr-though that,” Alex says, hiccuping and wiping at his eyes. “If you would have just t-told me the truth.”

Jack sighed deeply, looking away. “I know that, Alex. I think about it every day. Every. Single. Damn. Day,” he says sorrowfully. It doesn’t hit him for a while, but he’s crying, too. When he looks down, he sees a tear hit the comforter and he shakes his head. “How I fucked up so badly and hurt you. How I cheated. God, I swore that I would never do that, to you, especially. But I did. And fuck me if I didn’t just do it again.”

Alex gives him a sad look before reaching down and taking one of his hands, squeezing it tightly.

Jack shakes his head, staring down where their hands are intertwined. “I don’t get it, Alex. Why the fuck do you still want me? I cheated on you. I don’t deserve you at all. You know what you deserve? Someone good that’s going to take care of you. Someone who will put you first,” he lowers his voice. “Someone that won’t cheat on you.”

Alex bites his lip hard and squeezes Jack’s hand again. “It’s simple, Jack. I want you because I love you. I love you despite everything and I want to be happy. I haven’t been happy for five years now. And I know that the only way that that’s going to happen is if I’m with you.”

Jack sighs. “I left you for a reason,” he says quietly. “I’m a fuck up and you deserve better. I was trying to save you some hurt.”

Alex nods. “I know what you were trying to do. But you leaving me just hurt me more.”

“We had our chance,” Jack says flatly. “I ruined it. And that’s just the way it is.”
Alex seems to ignore him, just lying back down, still gripping tightly to Jack’s hand. He stares at the ceiling, slowly shutting his eyes. “You know,” he says. “Five years is a long time to think about things.”

Jack lies down beside him, joining him in staring at the ceiling. He nods in agreement.

“I thought about death a lot. Not necessarily just killing myself. I just wondered what it would be like to die. It’s so final. Like…Once it’s done, it’s done. There’s no turning back. Everything just stops. Everything, all of the joy and the pain, it’s just over. I guess….I guess in that sense, I understand now why Daniel did what he did. Sometimes, the pain is so overwhelming that I drink and drink and drink and I get numb, but it’s not enough. It never goes away and I just want to scream and break things and pull my hair out. It would be nice for it to just stop.”

Jack stays silent, as Alex is clearly not finished yet.

Alex takes a deep breath. “But then I thought about what dying would mean. Everything would stop, my life, everything. Like…I would never have a chance to do anything ever again and there’s so much left I want to do. I want to go to Paris. I want to go to Australia. I want…I want to be a father,” he chokes up a little. “And even more so, I don’t want to die alone. When I thought about it before, I realized that you wouldn’t be there when I died. You wouldn’t be the last thing I saw and heard. R-regardless of whether we’re together or not, I want you to be the
last thing I see.

Jack nods again, turning on his side. He wraps an arm around Alex and shuts his eyes. He closes his eyes and doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t want to talk anymore. He just wants to sleep.

*

The next morning, there is no breakfast waiting for Jack because Alex is still curled into him, sleeping soundly. Jack can’t help but smile a little because Alex is — and has always been — adorable when sleeping. He yawns and reluctantly sits up. It’s Sunday, the day when he’s due to leave. He doesn’t want to. He loves this house and he loves the man asleep next to him. But he’s got a boyfriend and a job and he needs to get back to the real world.

Quietly, he begins getting up. He gets dressed and packs up his things. Of course, Alex wakes up and sees him. He doesn’t say anything, but judging by the heartbroken look on his features, he knows exactly what Jack is doing. He doesn’t try to stop him though. He watches him for a few moments before getting up himself and going to get dressed.

Once Jack is completely ready, he takes his bag out to the car. Alex is standing on the porch, his arms hugging his chest and his teeth digging into his bottom lip. He’s trying hard not to cry.

Jack approaches him and blinks, unsure of what to say. He wants to hug him, take his hand, kiss him, even, but he knows that he can’t. It will just make this harder than it already is. “It was good to see you,” he finally says. Jack was never good with words.

Alex nods, biting his lip harder. He can’t speak and Jack knows that he’s using every fiber of strength in his being to keep from crying.

“Take care of yourself, Alex,” he whispers before turning around and walking to his car. He can’t turn around and look at Alex because once he does, he won’t be leaving.

Fighting back tears himself, he puts the car in drive and heads off down the road, tears blurring his vision. In the rearview mirror, he sees a beautiful, broken man on a beautiful porch among a beautiful, perfect ocean.

And then he knows exactly what he has to do.

Jack turns the car around and drives right back, knowing that he has hurt Alex enough, that he still loves him, and the two of them deserve to be happy, as toxic as their relationship may seem to be.

Alex had been standing on the porch, but when he sees Jack, he runs off of the porch toward
the car, tears pouring down his face. Jack parks the car and gets out as quickly as he possibly can. Alex jumps into his arms, sobbing loudly.

“Y-you came back,” Alex whimpers, holding onto Jack as tightly as he possibly can.
Jack nods, gathering him in his arms and holding onto him just as firmly. “Yeah, I did. God, Alex. I’m so sorry. I love you so much. I fucked up so bad in the past, but I swear, I won’t do it again.”

Alex pulls away to look at him, tears staining his face and a bright smile on his face, the happiest Jack has seen him in five years. “I know you won’t, baby. I know.” He leans up then and kisses him deeply, as if nothing bad has ever happened between the two of them.

Jack pulls away for a moment so that they can breathe and he rests his forehead against Alex’s. “I was so tired of living without you.”

Notes