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Alex Browning hated himself.
He hated himself for not being able to forget- for not being able to get over it.
It was over. Done. The guy got turned into the police. He’s on house arrest. He can’t go near any minors.
Including Alex.
That was the one thing letting him sleep at night. That thin, court-ordered boundary. A small, fraying comfort.
His friends think he’s fine. His best friend Tod thinks he’s fine.
He is fine.
Sure, he’s told a few people. In pieces. In the way that doesn’t make it sound like too much. Maybe he broke down in gym class once- but that was because the environment was too similar. The mats. The whistle. The smile of the elder gym teacher taking to the young freshman.
Maybe because he’s stupid. Maybe because he can’t fit anything into his stupid brain other than the feeling of his hand on his back.
And it wasn’t even that bad.
Right?
Just a little touch. Not even as bad as what some people go through.
Just a little pressure. Just a little too firm. Just enough to hold him in place.
Just enough to pin him down.
But it’s not like anything else happened.
So why is he still so caught up on it?
Why does his throat still close up when someone raises their voice? Why does he lock up when someone walks too close behind him? Why does his whole body forget how to exist when a hand lands between his shoulder blades?
He should be fine.
He is fine.
He tells himself that until it sounds like truth. Until it settles into his ribs like a fact.
Because if he wasn’t, someone would’ve noticed, right?
Right ?
Sure, maybe some days he’s quieter. Maybe he zones out more. Maybe he avoids the locker room, or flinches when someone shoves him playfully, or stays awake too long and ends up sleep-deprived in class.
Maybe some days he jokes around and actually laughs. Maybe some days it feels like he’s managed to forget.
Most days, he can forget.
Most .
Some days he can’t. Some days he feels that ghost of a hand again, low and wrong, like static under his skin. Some days he dreams about it, but not in images- just that same awful weight. Just that awful silence in his throat.
It’s a pain in the ass, really.
But no one needs to know that.
He’ll forget about it eventually. He’ll get lost in the usual noise- school lunch drama, group projects, Tod making dumb faces during tests.
He’ll keep walking, keep talking, keep laughing. He’ll keep flinching when someone touches his back-
Because he’s ticklish.
No other reason.
…
It was the gym again.
The bleachers were folded against the wall. The air smelled like sweat and old rubber. Everything was echoing- too wide, too hollow.
“Hey, Browning. Grab the cones from the back,” the coach barked, not looking up from the clipboard.
Alex nodded. Didn’t say anything. He just turned and walked across the court, eyes low. The door creaked open- cool, shadowy inside. He grabbed the stack of orange cones quickly, like ripping off a bandage, and turned back.
He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until they were too close.
“Good job,” he said, voice low. Something about it was oily.
And then- that. That slow, deliberate press of his body against Alex’s back. Right against the base of his spine. Like punctuation. Like he was allowed.
Everything in Alex’s body seized. He couldn’t breathe. His hands clenched around the cones until the plastic dug in.
He wanted to say something, but his throat didn’t work.
Then the coach’s voice, again, almost kind: “See you tomorrow.”
That was what woke him.
Alex gasped and sat up fast- too fast. Sheets tangled around his legs, hair clinging to his forehead, breath ragged. His shirt was damp. The air in his room felt too thick, too warm. He shoved the blanket off.
The clock blinked: 4:03 AM.
He sat there, hunched forward, elbows on his knees. For a second, he pressed his palms to his eyes and tried to rub the dream out of his skull.
It didn’t work.
His hands were shaking a little.
He knew better than to try to sleep again.
So he got up.
Moved quietly. Didn’t turn on the light. Pulled a shirt over his head and ran cold water over his face at the bathroom sink. The house was silent except for the hum of the fridge and the faint creak of pipes.
By 4:25, he was dressed. Jeans. Hoodie. Socks. The hoodie was too warm, but he didn’t care. He wanted the extra layer.
He checked his backpack twice. Sat on the edge of his bed again, then stood up. He couldn’t sit still.
By 6:00, he was unlocking the garage.
By 6:05, he was pedaling through the quiet streets, the sky still dark, the air cool on his skin.
By 6:47, he was the only person outside the school, sitting on the front steps, bike chained to the railing, chin tucked into his hoodie.
School wouldn’t even open until 7.
But at least the ride made his legs ache. At least the wind didn’t feel like hands.
At least out here, he was moving.
And nothing could touch him from behind.
By 6:58 a.m., Alex had locked his bike at the rack and was sitting on the curb outside school, chin resting on his knees. The concrete was still cold. The sun hadn’t even fully committed to rising.
He liked the silence here. Liked that no one was around to look at him, talk to him, brush past his back on accident.
For a second- just one- he could almost pretend he wasn’t real. That the feeling still burned under his skin, but maybe today he could just ignore it long enough to function.
But the second passed.
And then the doors opened, and the day started.
…
First period was gym.
Of course it was.
He hadn’t even thought to check the rotation when he left. He hadn’t even considered it.
Alex sat in the bleachers and pretended to listen to the instructions. They were doing something dumb. Some partner drill. Of course.
His heart started going too fast again. He rubbed his thumb along the side of his palm and stared at the scuffed floor, willing it to crack open and swallow him.
“Browning! You and Kessler!”
The coach’s voice snapped through the air.
Alex looked up too slow.
Kessler was already standing. A big, loud guy with a tendency to slap people on the back like it was a joke. He grinned at Alex like this was nothing.
Alex flinched before anything even happened.
“C’mon, man. You deaf?”
“No,” Alex said, voice thin. “I’m good. I’ll sit this one out.”
Coach’s brow lifted. “You sick?”
“No, I just- my head hurts.”
It wasn’t a lie.
He stayed on the bleachers. Pretended not to see the look. Pretended not to feel the pressure from across the court- the weight of expectation and disbelief and the silent accusation of drama queen.
When the class ended, someone brushed past him too fast on the way out, and a hand caught his lower back.
Alex almost jumped out of his skin.
…
Second period was English.
They were reading something about consent. Of course.
The teacher read a paragraph out loud about how silence isn’t the same thing as agreement.
Alex could feel his face go hot. Not in a blushing way- more like a boil-over.
He hated how much he wanted to leave. He hated how tight his chest was. He hated that his first thought was I didn’t say anything either.
…
At lunch, Tod waved him over. Alex went, because it was easier than not.
He laughed at a joke he didn’t hear. Poked at his food. Smiled when someone asked if he was okay.
“Yeah. Just tired.”
He always said that. He didn’t even have to think about it anymore.
…
Fifth period, someone slapped his back in the hallway.
“Nice save in gym today!” someone said. “Dodged Kessler like a pro.”
Alex smiled.
He smiled.
And then he locked himself in the bathroom and sat on the toilet with the lid down and his hands shaking in his lap. He didn’t cry. He never did, not at school. He just breathed and stared at the tile floor like it was the only thing keeping him anchored.
He felt stupid. Pathetic.
Nothing even happened.
It was a long time ago. The guy’s gone. He’s not coming back.
So why does it still feel like he’s here?
Why does it still feel like every room has his shadow in it?
Like Alex is letting himself be ruined?
Like maybe he deserves it- because he didn’t stop it. Because he froze. Because part of him still shuts down every time he thinks about it, and he hates that. Hates that he still has this kind of power over him.
He wanted to feel better. He really, really did.
But some part of his brain was holding the door shut.
Like getting better would mean forgiving it.
Like he wasn’t supposed to feel okay. Like if he let go, it would mean it didn’t matter.
So he didn’t.
He washed his face. Splashed cold water on his neck. Stared at himself in the mirror until his expression flattened into something neutral.
Then he went to sixth period, and no one noticed a thing.
…
The hallway was too full. Too loud.
Alex kept his head down, hoodie up, earbuds in- but the music wasn’t even playing. He just needed people to think he couldn’t hear them. It made them less likely to talk to him. Or touch him.
He was walking fast. Faster than usual. Not looking where he was going.
And then-
Smack.
He collided with someone chest-first and staggered back with a sharp breath, his hand flying to his shoulder like he’d been hit.
“Watch it,” the guy muttered.
Carter.
Of course it was Carter.
Alex’s heart did something awful- a leap and a twist like it wanted out of his chest.
Carter didn’t even sound mad, just surprised. Maybe a little annoyed.
But Alex couldn’t hear him over the sudden ringing in his ears.
He could still feel the pressure- someone’s chest, too close, too warm, too solid. He could still feel that instinctive panic boiling up like acid in his throat. Not again, not again, not again-
“You good?” Carter asked, a little more cautious now.
Alex flinched.
“ Don’t touch me,” he snapped, louder than he meant to. His voice cracked on the last word.
Carter blinked, pulling his hand back like he’d been burned. “Dude, I wasn’t even-"
“Just- don’t, okay?” Alex backed up, fast, like Carter was something dangerous. He nearly bumped into someone else but turned and shoved past without another word.
Carter just stood there, still holding his books, staring after him like he didn’t understand what just happened.
And honestly?
Neither did Alex.
He ducked into the nearest stairwell and sat on the bottom step, breath shallow, fingers trembling. His whole body felt stupid and wrong and wired, like his nerves were on fire from the inside out.
It wasn’t even Carter’s fault.
He hadn’t grabbed him. He hadn’t touched his back. He hadn’t done anything.
But still, the second their bodies collided, Alex’s brain went red and loud and screaming.
He pulled his knees up and curled in, wishing he could shed his skin. Wishing he could stop jumping at shadows. Wishing someone would notice- and hating the idea of being seen.
Especially by him .
~
Carter stood there for a second, frowning at the stairwell like it had personally offended him.
What the hell was that?
Alex had looked at him like he’d pulled a knife.
Carter wasn’t great with people, sure- but he knew when someone was being weird. And that? That wasn’t just weird. That was freaked out.
And it bugged him.
Not because he cared. Obviously.
He just… didn’t like loose ends.
With a sigh, Carter shoved his books under one arm and slipped into the stairwell, his footsteps echoing faintly off the concrete walls. He didn’t even try to be quiet. Subtlety wasn’t really his thing.
He spotted Alex immediately, hunched on the bottom step like a kicked dog. Hood still up. Shoulders too tight.
Carter hesitated.
“Hey,” he said finally, his voice lower than usual. “What the hell was that?”
Alex didn’t move.
Didn’t even flinch this time. Which, somehow, was worse.
Carter came down a few steps, slow and deliberate, but kept some distance. “You run into people a lot, or am I just lucky?”
Still no answer.
Carter squinted. “You deaf now, too?”
Alex muttered something. Too quiet to hear.
“What?”
“I said go away,” Alex snapped, louder this time. His voice was raw. Tired.
Carter raised an eyebrow. “You gonna scream at me again if I don’t?”
Alex didn’t respond.
He looked up briefly- and Carter stilled.
Because there was something in Alex’s face that didn’t match the usual snark or disdain or even the weird quiet moods he sometimes got. This wasn’t attitude. It wasn’t a bad day.
This was something else.
His eyes were red around the edges, but not teary. More like he’d been holding his breath for too long and it was finally starting to show.
“…You good?” Carter asked, and immediately hated how soft it sounded. He cleared his throat. “I mean, like, are you about to pass out or something? ’Cause if I have to carry you to the nurse, I’m dropping you.”
Alex actually laughed. Just once. A sharp, bitter thing that didn’t reach his eyes.
“You’re a jackass,” he muttered.
“Yeah, and you’re a freak. So we’re even.”
They sat in silence.
Carter leaned against the railing. He wasn’t really sure why he hadn’t left yet.
Maybe it was morbid curiosity.
Maybe it was something else. Something he didn’t want to look too closely at.
After a minute, he said, “You wanna tell me what’s going on, or you just planning to brood here until the bell?”
Alex shook his head. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
“Bullshit.”
Alex didn’t answer.
Carter watched him for a second longer, then stood up. “Whatever. Not my problem.”
He turned toward the stairs- but before he left, he muttered, “You need to freak out at someone again, you know where to find me.”
Then he was gone.
~
Alex stayed sitting. Still curled in. Still shaking a little.
But somehow, just knowing Carter had followed him-
Somehow that made him feel less invisible.
Even if he hated that it helped.
…
The next day, Alex showed up to school like nothing had happened.
Hood up. Face blank. He walked past Carter at the lockers without even a glance.
Carter narrowed his eyes.
He was leaning against the wall, half-listening to some guy talk about an upcoming football game, but his focus was fixed on him.
Browning.
Acting like yesterday never happened. Like he hadn’t flinched so hard you’d think Carter had hit him. Like he hadn’t looked scared.
And yeah, Carter wasn’t exactly Mr. Empathy, but something about it had stuck in his brain like a splinter.
He’d thought maybe Alex would say something today. Even just a “sorry.” Or a snarky comment about being dramatic. Something. But the guy just ghosted past like Carter didn’t exist.
So now he was annoyed.
“Yo,” he called out.
Alex didn’t stop.
“Browning.”
Still nothing.
Carter shoved off the wall and stalked after him. “Hey. Deaf again or are you just being a dick?”
Alex halted, stiffly, just by the stairwell door. Shoulders up around his ears.
He turned slowly, expression unreadable. “What?”
“You good?” Carter asked, folding his arms. “Like- actually good? Or are you gonna bolt again if someone bumps into you?”
Alex’s face didn’t move for a second. Not even a blink.
Then: “I said I was fine.”
“No, you said ‘go away,’” Carter shot back. “Big difference.”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “I don’t owe you anything .”
“Didn’t say you did.”
“Then why are you still bothering me?”
Carter shrugged. “Guess I’m just nosy. Or maybe it was weird when someone I’ve known since middle school looked at me like I was gonna hit him.”
Alex looked away at that. Down. Somewhere near Carter’s shoes.
He didn’t answer.
The silence stretched long enough that Carter shifted his weight, suddenly uncomfortable.
“I wasn’t-" Alex started, then stopped.
Carter didn’t say anything.
Alex exhaled sharply. “I wasn’t scared of you.”
“…Didn’t really seem like that.”
Alex looked up, finally. His eyes were tired. Not red, not puffy. Just… worn out.
“I had a bad day.”
That was all he offered.
Carter nodded slowly. “ Right .”
Another pause.
“I didn’t mean to freak out.”
Carter almost said you did, but swallowed it. Instead: “Okay.”
Alex pushed a hand through his hair. “I’m not- this isn’t some cry-for-help thing, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Didn’t say it was.”
“Good.”
They stood there. Awkward. The air between them thick with things unsaid.
Eventually, Carter rolled his eyes. “You always this dramatic before first period?”
Alex snorted, soft and reluctant. “Says the guy who chased me down a stairwell like a cop.”
“I was making sure you weren’t gonna throw yourself off the roof, jackass.”
“Aw. How sweet.”
Carter smirked. Just barely.
Alex didn’t smile back- but he didn’t walk away either.
That felt like something.
…
Third period: U.S. History.
Carter slouched into his seat like always, dropping his notebook on the desk with a loud thud that made the girl next to him jump.
The teacher barely looked up.
“Today’s a partner assignment,” she said without any warning or mercy. “Pick someone. Two people per group.”
Instant chaos.
Chairs scraped. Voices rose. Carter didn’t move. He hated this class, hated group work more, and figured someone would just get stuck with him by default.
Then- because the universe was clearly on drugs- he saw Alex slide into the empty seat beside him like it was nothing.
“Guess we’re partners,” Alex said flatly, flipping open his textbook without even looking at him.
Carter blinked.
“…Seriously?”
Alex shrugged. “You look dumb enough to match my energy.”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “You sure you’re not gonna yell at me again halfway through?”
Alex turned a page. “You gonna touch my back again?”
Carter shut up.
Fair.
He watched Alex for a second longer- his posture loose, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was already scribbling something in the margins of the assignment sheet, like this was just a normal day.
And maybe for him, it was. Maybe this was what Alex looked like when he decided to shut everything off and act fine.
Carter recognized it. He did the same thing all the time.
“Okay,” Alex muttered, dragging his finger down the first bullet point. “So we’re doing Reconstruction. You wanna write or talk?”
“You write. I’ll talk.”
“Wow. Just volunteering me for the work. Chivalry’s not dead.”
“I’ll buy you a juice box at lunch.”
Alex snorted. “Deal.”
The banter came back quick- like muscle memory. Alex was sharp again. Smirking, dry, hard to pin down. His hands weren’t shaking. His voice didn’t crack.
It was like yesterday had been deleted.
But every so often, Carter caught something- like how Alex avoided leaning back in his chair. How he flinched a little when someone brushed past behind them. How he kept checking the door, like he needed to know where it was.
Still, his jokes didn’t miss. He rolled his eyes at Carter’s answers, scribbled curse words in the margins of their notes, and made fun of the textbook’s outdated diagrams like it was any other day.
For the first time, Carter didn’t argue. He let him have it.
Let him be normal.
For now.
…
It was after the final bell.
Most people were already off-campus or halfway to their cars. Carter stayed behind in the parking lot, leaning against the chain-link fence like he was waiting for someone. Technically, he wasn’t.
Not until he saw Alex wheeling his bike out from the side of the building.
Hood up. Earbuds in again.
Of course.
Carter didn’t even think before he called out, “Hey.”
Alex didn’t look up.
Carter scowled. “Seriously? You ignoring me now?”
Alex stopped walking, pulled out one earbud, and turned. “What do you want?”
“Conversation. Maybe a hug. Depends on your mood.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “I’m busy, Carter.”
“Yeah? Busy being fake as hell?”
Alex froze.
It was barely half a second- but Carter caught it. That flicker of something behind his eyes before he shut it down again.
“…Excuse me?” Alex said, too calm.
“You heard me.” Carter pushed off the fence. “You really think nobody noticed?”
“Noticed what?”
“That you’ve been acting like nothing happened. Like you didn’t freak out in the stairwell two days ago and almost crawl out of your own skin.”
Alex’s jaw clenched. “Drop it.”
“No.”
“Why do you even care?”
“I don’t,” Carter lied immediately. “I just-"
He stopped. Swore under his breath. Then ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“I don’t know. Okay? It was just weird. You don’t act like that. You’re usually just… mouthy and smug and kind of a dick, and then all of a sudden you’re flinching at everything and avoiding being touched like someone set you on fire.”
Alex said nothing.
“You’re back to pretending now, but it’s-" Carter huffed. “It’s not real. You know it’s not real.”
“Yeah?” Alex snapped, finally. “So what do you want from me, huh? You want me to cry? Break down? Confess something dramatic and traumatic so you can play hero for a day?”
“What? No- Jesus, no.”
“Then why bring it up?”
“Because I saw you,” Carter said. “I saw your face when I bumped into you. And I can’t stop thinking about it. You looked-"
He cut himself off.
Alex crossed his arms tightly over his chest, face unreadable.
“…You looked scared,” Carter finished quietly.
Alex’s throat bobbed. He didn’t answer.
Carter stepped back, like giving him space might help. “You don’t have to say anything. Just… I’m not gonna pretend I didn’t notice. And you don’t have to pretend with me. That’s all.”
Alex stared at the pavement like it had betrayed him.
“…I’m fine,” he said, but it didn’t have the same bite anymore. It sounded tired.
Carter nodded once. “Yeah. I figured you’d say that.”
He turned to go. But before he got more than a few steps away, he said over his shoulder:
“I won’t push. But I’m not blind.”
Alex didn’t follow him.
Didn’t move for a while.
But his hands were shaking again. Just a little.
And somehow, knowing Carter saw him, and didn’t hate him for it-
That made it worse.
And better.
At the same time.
…
That night, Alex told his parents he had homework. Locked his door. Turned the lights off.
He didn’t have homework.
He just didn’t want to exist.
He lay on his bed with his hoodie still on, face half-buried in the pillow. The room was warm, quiet. Too quiet.
And that was the problem.
Because when things got quiet, he started remembering.
It wasn’t always loud. Sometimes it wasn’t even visual. Sometimes it was just sensation- phantom pressure, the echo of someone breathing behind him, the scrape of calloused hands where they didn’t belong.
Sometimes it was nothing and it still ruined him.
Tonight was one of those nights.
He couldn’t sleep. Again.
He rolled onto his side, restless. His heart was already beating too fast and he didn’t even know why yet. His body knew before he did. It always did.
It started with a tremor. Just a small one, in his legs. Then his chest. Then his fingers.
Then came the pressure. That creeping, imaginary weight on his lower back.
He bolted upright.
His sheets stuck to his skin.
He couldn’t breathe right.
He was fine. He was fine. He was-
Something brushed his spine.
Not real. Not real.
But he flinched so hard he almost fell off the bed.
He backed into the corner, knees to his chest, digging his nails into his own arms just to feel something else- anything else.
He didn’t cry. He never cried.
But the panic came anyway.
He hated how quiet the house was. Hated how alone it felt. Hated that his brain still thought he might be standing just outside the door.
That he might come back.
Even though he was gone. Arrested. Far away. Not allowed near minors. Not allowed near Alex.
And yet-
His skin still burned like it remembered.
His body still shook like it didn’t know he was safe.
He stayed like that for over an hour.
Wrapped up tight. Trying to breathe around something invisible in his throat.
By the time he stood again, he felt hollow. Raw.
He didn’t sleep that night.
He just changed into clean clothes, splashed cold water on his face, and packed his bag like it was any other morning.
Like nothing had happened.
Again .
…
Third Period: U.S. History.
Alex slid into the seat next to Carter with a grunt, dropping his notebook onto the desk a little harder than necessary. His hoodie was up again. Eyes sunken. Movements slow.
Carter didn’t say anything at first.
Just looked.
Alex looked like shit.
Pale. Hollow. Like he hadn’t slept- or had been chased through his dreams all night. There were half-moons under his eyes and a tension in his jaw that hadn’t been there yesterday.
“You look like you got hit by a truck,” Carter said finally.
“Cool,” Alex muttered, not looking at him. “You always this good with compliments?”
“Only for you, sunshine.”
Alex huffed- something between a laugh and an exhausted exhale- and slumped lower in his seat.
Carter watched him fumble through his bag, pulling out crumpled notes and a pen without a cap. His hand trembled for half a second as he uncapped it with his teeth.
Carter noticed. Said nothing.
They started working.
Well- Alex started working.
Carter leaned back, chewing the cap of his own pen, eyes drifting over the other boy like he was trying to solve a puzzle without the picture on the box.
Alex wasn’t talking as much today.
No dumb jokes. No sarcasm. Just quiet mutters about Reconstruction amendments and war profiteers. His handwriting was messier than usual, too- slanted and rushed, like he needed to get the words out before something cracked.
Eventually Carter said, low, “You good?”
Alex didn’t look up. “Fine.”
“Right.”
More silence.
Carter leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk, his voice quieter now. “Bad night?”
Alex paused mid-sentence.
His pen hovered above the paper.
But he didn’t answer.
Didn’t look at Carter. Didn’t roll his eyes. Didn’t fire back with some deflection about “why do you care?”
That silence was answer enough.
Carter didn’t push.
He just nodded like he understood. Like he got it, even if he didn’t.
They kept working.
Carter did more of the talking this time. Let Alex copy his notes when the other boy’s hand started shaking again.
He pretended not to notice when Alex’s head dipped low, like gravity was dragging it down.
“Hey,” he said eventually, nudging his elbow against Alex’s. “I know this project’s boring as hell, but try not to die in the middle of it.”
Alex glanced at him, eyes dull, but his mouth twitched- just barely.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
It wasn’t a smile. Not really.
But it was closer than anything else today.
And Carter didn’t say it out loud, but something in his chest eased.
Just a little.
…
Lunch.
Tod found him at their usual table, already half-slumped over his tray like he was trying to disappear into the lukewarm mashed potatoes.
“Dude,” Tod said, sliding into the seat across from him. “You look like a corpse.”
Alex didn’t look up. “Cool. Everyone keeps saying that.”
“That’s probably because it’s true. You sleep at all?”
“Define sleep.”
“Jesus.” Tod opened his Gatorade and took a sip, watching him over the rim. “Rough night?”
Alex just poked at his food with a plastic fork.
Tod frowned. “Okay, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“You’ve said nothing about like five different things today. I’m starting to think ‘nothing’ means ‘everything is on fire.’”
Alex snorted. Sort of.
But it didn’t reach his eyes. Nothing did today.
Tod leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Is this about Carter? ‘Cause if that dick did something, I will absolutely pants him in the gym.”
Alex huffed out a breath. “No. He’s been… normal. Ish.”
Tod blinked. “Wait, you and Carter are on speaking terms?”
Alex shrugged one shoulder. “Group project.”
“Holy crap. That’s like watching two angry cats learn to high-five.”
Alex’s mouth twitched.
But then it faded again. Fast.
Tod quieted down.
He poked at the crust of his sandwich for a second before saying, “You can talk to me, y’know. If you’re not okay. I’m not gonna make it weird.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
“Yeah, well. I’m good at it.”
Tod didn’t argue. Didn’t push. Just looked at him for a long moment.
Then, softly: “You don’t have to be.”
Alex’s throat tightened.
He didn’t say anything. Couldn’t.
Tod didn’t ask again.
Instead, he reached over and snagged a half-dead tater tot from Alex’s tray and popped it in his mouth like nothing was wrong.
“By the way,” he mumbled around it, “if you die before this project’s done, I’m totally blaming it on you in the reflection write-up.”
Alex finally cracked a real smile. Small. Brief.
But real.
And Tod didn’t say anything about it.
Just kept eating. Kept sitting across from him like he always had.
Like he always would.
…
Carter wasn’t even waiting for him. Not on purpose, anyway.
He was sitting on the curb by the bike racks, half-scrolling through his phone, the sun in his eyes, his backpack at his feet. He looked up just as Alex came out the side doors, moving slow, like his legs were made of stone.
They made eye contact.
Alex looked away first.
“Wow,” Carter said. “You survived.”
“Barely.”
Alex stopped at the bike rack. His fingers moved clumsily on the lock, like they didn’t quite want to cooperate.
Carter watched him fumble with it for a few seconds before standing up and walking over. Not saying anything else. Just standing there, close enough to feel like a presence.
Alex finally muttered, “You’re hovering.”
“Observation skills unmatched.”
“Seriously. What do you want?”
Carter shrugged. “Nothing. Just figured I’d annoy you for a bit.”
Alex didn’t respond.
He got the lock off, wheeled the bike out, and stared at it like he’d forgotten what came next.
Carter watched his face, the way his mouth tightened, the blankness behind his eyes like a screen pulled down over something sharp and hurting.
“You’re not okay,” Carter said quietly.
Alex’s hands clenched on the handlebars. “I know.”
“I’m not asking you to tell me everything,” Carter went on. “I’m not even asking for anything. I just-"
He trailed off.
Alex looked up.
And for the first time all day, Carter saw it again- that look. The one from the stairwell. The one from that parking lot talk. Haunted and exhausted and quietly screaming.
“- I don’t know,” Carter finished. “I just didn’t want you to leave without someone saying something that wasn’t ‘you look like shit.’”
Alex blinked hard. Swallowed.
“You said that yesterday.”
“Yeah, but today I mean it with emotional depth.”
That earned a weak, breathy laugh.
Carter relaxed. A little.
They stood there for a moment. Just standing. The sun was lower now. The air cooler. The world felt quieter out here, like it was giving Alex space for once.
“You don’t have to fix it,” Alex said, finally.
“I’m not trying to.”
“Okay.”
“…But if you wanna hang around here for a bit before biking off into the sunset, I’m not going anywhere.”
Alex didn’t answer.
But he didn’t leave either.
He leaned the bike against the rack and sat down on the pavement next to Carter, resting his arms on his knees, head low.
Neither of them spoke.
They didn’t have to.
They sat there for a while.
The kind of while where the sun dipped lower and the sky turned that hazy orange-gray, like the day was too tired to go on. The pavement was still warm beneath them, but Alex was cold.
Not on the outside- on the inside. That bone-deep kind of cold that didn’t go away.
Carter tossed a pebble at the curb. It bounced once, then rolled into the street.
“I ever gonna hear what this is actually about?” he asked.
Alex didn’t answer.
He didn’t move, didn’t blink. Just kept staring straight ahead like if he looked hard enough, the world might disappear.
“…Forget it,” Carter muttered, shaking his head. “None of my business.”
“It isn’t,” Alex said.
But it didn’t sound mean.
It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Carter pulled his knees up. Rested his chin on them. “You know you scared the shit outta me the other day, right?”
Alex flinched.
“I didn’t-" he started, then stopped. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Yeah, well. You did.”
Silence.
Then Alex laughed. Quiet. Bitter. Like it slipped out without permission.
“What?” Carter asked, guarded.
Alex shrugged. “Nothing. Just… I was thinking how stupid it is. That it still gets to me. That I still feel it, even when he’s not there. Even when it’s been months.”
Carter turned his head slowly. “…He?”
Alex froze.
His breath hitched.
And that was the moment.
That was the chance- to say it out loud. To let it out, messy and real, in front of someone who wouldn’t run.
But he couldn’t.
His throat locked.
His chest twisted.
“…Forget it,” he muttered.
Carter didn’t push. But his voice went quiet. “I won’t.”
Alex laughed again, more broken this time. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“I know.”
They sat in the silence after that- raw, uneven, charged.
And then Alex said, so soft Carter almost didn’t hear it:
“Do you ever feel like… if you talk about something, it makes it real?”
Carter glanced over. “Yeah.”
Alex swallowed hard. “I don’t want it to be real.”
Carter’s voice came slower. More careful. “Too late, isn’t it?”
Alex didn’t answer.
But his hand curled into a fist against the pavement. His knuckles white.
And Carter didn’t try to touch him. Didn’t offer any hollow reassurances. He just sat there.
Right beside him.
Saying nothing.
Staying.
And that- more than anything- almost undid Alex completely.
…
Friday. Third period.
Alex wasn’t there.
Carter stared at the empty seat like it owed him an explanation.
The bell rang, the teacher started droning about sharecropping and post-war economies, and still- nothing.
No sarcastic comment at the start of class. No notebook tossed on the desk. No soft curses under Alex’s breath when he dropped his pen for the third time.
Just the empty chair.
And Carter’s brain wouldn’t shut up about it.
He barely took notes. Couldn’t focus. Kept glancing at the door like maybe Alex had just gotten stuck in the hall or something. But the minutes crawled past and the seat stayed empty.
By the time the bell rang, Carter’s stomach felt like it was full of glass.
…
Lunch.
He found Tod by the vending machines, smacking one with the side of his fist like that would make the chips drop.
“Where’s Browning?” Carter asked, already tense.
Tod glanced up. “Dunno. Thought he was with you.”
Carter frowned. “He wasn’t in history.”
“Maybe he ditched?”
“He doesn’t ditch.”
“Okay, but, like- he could be sick?”
“He didn’t look sick yesterday.”
Tod shrugged. “He’s probably fine. He gets like this sometimes. Goes dark for a day, comes back acting like nothing happened.”
That didn’t help.
At all.
Carter stood there for a second, hands shoved in his pockets, teeth clenched.
Tod raised an eyebrow. “You good?”
“I’m fine.”
“Sure. You’re just acting weird about your sworn enemy disappearing in the middle of the school day.”
“Shut up.”
Tod grinned, but only for a second. “Seriously. He’ll come back. He always does.”
Carter didn’t say anything.
Because yeah, maybe that was true.
But something about today felt different.
…
After school.
Carter walked by the bike rack. Alex’s bike wasn’t there.
Not locked up. Not hidden behind the dumpster. Just gone.
And that meant he hadn’t been there at all.
He didn’t know Alex’s number. Didn’t even know if he had a landline. Didn’t know where he lived, really- just a vague “couple blocks that way.”
And somehow that made the silence worse.
Carter lingered by the fence long after the lot had emptied, staring at the last streaks of sun bleeding across the pavement.
He could hear Alex’s voice in his head- sharp, tired, cracking under the surface.
“Do you ever feel like… if you talk about something, it makes it real?”
Carter kicked a loose rock across the sidewalk, hard enough to send it clattering into the road.
He didn’t know where Alex was.
Didn’t know why he was gone.
And he hated that it mattered.
Hated that he cared.
But he did.
And that scared him more than he wanted to admit.
Saturday afternoon.
Carter was bored.
Not the fun kind of bored where you end up at someone’s house doing something stupid, but the restless kind. The kind where your skin itched and the air felt too thick and your brain wouldn’t shut up.
He’d walked to the corner store, mostly out of habit.
Got a soda. A bag of chips he didn’t really want. Was halfway to the register when he heard it-
That voice.
Soft. Familiar. A little too calm.
“No, I said the blue one. That’s the wrong kind.”
Carter turned his head.
And there he was.
Alex.
In the freezer aisle, arguing with the old guy behind the counter who barely looked like he was listening. His hoodie was up, like always. Hands shoved in the pockets. His expression was flat. Controlled.
Too controlled.
Carter ducked back behind the shelves before Alex could see him. Watched through the gaps between a rack of cheap candy and a tower of knockoff soda bottles.
Alex looked… wrong.
Not like a disaster. Not like someone who’d been crying or panicking or spiraling.
Worse.
He looked like someone who had turned everything off.
His shoulders were slouched. His eyes were dead. He moved like he was walking underwater- slow, numb, half-there.
Carter felt something twist in his chest.
Alex paid for whatever he bought- two boxes of Pop-Tarts and a Red Bull- and turned to leave.
Carter almost let him go.
Almost.
But then Alex saw him.
They locked eyes for half a second.
Alex stopped in his tracks.
Carter stepped out from behind the shelf, awkwardly holding a bottle of Sprite he suddenly didn’t care about. “Hey.”
Alex blinked. “Oh.”
“…You weren’t at school,” Carter said, quieter this time.
Alex turned back to the shelf. “Didn’t feel like going.”
“You sick?”
“No.”
“…You okay?”
Alex gave a tight shrug. “Sure.”
It wasn’t convincing.
Carter stepped a little closer, cereal box forgotten in his hand. “You look like crap.”
“You’ve said that every day this week.”
“Yeah, but today it’s more true.”
Alex didn’t look at him.
Just grabbed whatever can he’d been pretending to care about and tossed it in the small plastic basket on the floor by his feet.
“You following me now?” he asked, voice low.
“No. Just unlucky, I guess.”
“Unlucky?”
“Yeah. Because now I can’t un-see that you’re clearly not fine.”
Alex let out a small, dry laugh. “I’m always not fine, Carter. This is just the deluxe version.”
That shut Carter up for a second.
“…Why weren’t you at school?”
“I told you. I didn’t feel like it.”
“That’s not a reason.”
“It is when you can’t get out of bed.”
Alex’s voice was sharper now. Closer to breaking. He still hadn’t looked him in the eye again.
Carter hesitated. Then: “Is it still the dreams?”
Alex exhaled. “No.”
Alex finally looked up again. His eyes were glassy. Tired.
“I’m not skipping for fun,” he said. “I’m just- tired. In a way that doesn’t go away.”
Carter nodded slowly.
“Okay,” he said.
That was it.
No lecture. No pushing. Just… okay.
Alex blinked at him, surprised. “…Okay?”
“Yeah.”
They stood there for a moment. Just existing.
Then Alex looked away again, grabbing the basket off the floor. “You should leave before someone calls us loiterers.”
Carter smirked faintly. “You gonna run if I try to walk out with you?”
“…I might.”
Carter raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? You look like you’d get winded walking to the end of the block.”
Alex snorted. “Not wrong.”
Still, he didn’t run. He let Carter fall into step beside him, the two of them pushing through the creaky glass door of the store into the heavy summer air.
The sun was out, but it felt like a lie- too bright, too normal. The kind of light that didn’t match the way Alex was hunched into himself.
They walked in silence for a while. Just the crunch of gravel and the occasional hum of a car passing on the main road.
Carter glanced over. “You live around here?”
Alex nodded, shifting the bag in his arms. “Couple blocks east. By the tennis courts.”
“Walk here?”
“Yeah. Bike chain broke.”
Carter didn’t say what he was thinking- so you’re dragging yourself out here in this heat just to buy Pop-Tarts and caffeine, like your body’s barely running on fumes.
Instead, he said, “Mind if I walk with you?”
Alex looked at him sideways. “What are you, my bodyguard?”
Carter shrugged. “You could use one.”
Alex didn’t answer. But he didn’t say no, either.
They kept walking.
At some point, Alex stopped at a crosswalk, waiting for a car to pass. Carter watched the way his shoulders stayed tight, like he was still braced for something- like even silence was a weight pressing down on him.
Carter kicked a pebble into the gutter.
Then, low, he asked, “Was it someone at school?”
Alex didn’t respond.
Carter pushed a little- soft, but serious. “You don’t have to say who. Just… was it someone we know?”
Alex didn’t look at him.
Didn’t move.
But something in his jaw twitched. His hand gripped the plastic bag a little tighter.
“…I’m not talking about this,” he said finally. Voice low. Flat. But not angry.
Carter nodded. Once.
“Okay.”
They kept walking.
It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t bad either. Just thick. Like the truth was following behind them, dragging its feet.
They turned a corner. The sidewalk cracked under their shoes. A dog barked somewhere behind a fence. The world went on.
Alex exhaled through his nose. “You ever wish you could cut something out of your brain? Like- just take a knife and carve out the part that remembers.”
Carter’s throat went tight. “Yeah.”
Alex gave a small laugh. “Of course you don’t ask what I mean.”
“I figured if you wanted me to know, you’d say it.”
“…Huh.”
“What?”
“You’re less of a dick than you used to be.”
“Don’t spread that around.”
Alex cracked a smile. It didn’t last, but it was real for a second. Real enough that Carter saw the person underneath the exhaustion.
They reached the bottom of a sloped driveway. A pale yellow house with a busted porch light and a tilted mailbox.
“This is me,” Alex mumbled, climbing halfway up the walk.
Carter hovered behind. “You good to-?”
“I’ll survive.”
Alex paused at the top of the steps. Then, without looking back, he said, “Thanks. For… walking. Or whatever.”
Carter shoved his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Anytime.”
Alex hesitated, like he wanted to say more.
But he didn’t.
He slipped inside and shut the door softly behind him.
Carter stood there a moment longer, staring at the space where Alex had been.
Then he turned and walked back the way they came.
…
Monday.
Alex was fine.
No, really.
He laughed at something Tod said in gym. He answered two questions in history. He even got yelled at for climbing on a railing during lunch and responded with a half-hearted, “Relax, I’m basically an Olympic athlete.”
For the first time in over a week, he didn’t look like he was on the verge of collapsing into a puddle of dread and exhaustion.
He still had his hoodie on. Still kept his sleeves down. Still flinched a little when someone came up behind him too fast.
But overall? Fine.
And Carter hated it.
Not because he wanted Alex to be miserable- obviously not- but because it made no sense.
What kind of person went from visibly crumbling to smirking and stealing extra napkins from the lunch counter like nothing had happened?
So Carter watched.
Closely.
Too closely.
…
Third period.
Alex slid into his seat. “Morning, sunshine,” he said, tossing his pen on the desk and cracking his knuckles like he wasn’t running on maybe two hours of sleep and half a Red Bull.
Carter stared at him.
Alex raised an eyebrow. “You always look this weird when people act normal?”
“You’re not acting normal,” Carter said, voice low.
Alex leaned back in his seat. “Define normal.”
“You’re being-" Carter gestured at him vaguely. “ You. Again. ”
Alex smirked. “Yeah. You sound disappointed.”
Carter ignored that. “So you’re better now? Just like that?”
Alex’s grin faltered for half a second. Just a flicker. “That’s usually how it works.”
“That’s not how anything works.”
“It is for me.”
Carter scowled. “So you just… snap out of it ?”
“Sometimes.”
“And the other times?”
Alex looked back at the front of the class. “Then I wait for the part of my brain that wants to fall off a roof to shut up.”
The words were sharp. Casual.
They stuck in Carter’s throat like glass.
Something happened. Something bad.
And Carter didn’t let things like that go.
He wasn’t a hero or anything. He just needed to know. Needed to understand.
So when Alex snorted at something Tod said across the room and kicked Carter’s foot under the table with that stupid smug look on his face- Carter didn’t smile back.
He just stared.
Alex noticed. Paused.
“What?” he asked, still casual.
Carter shrugged. “You’re in a good mood.”
Alex shrugged right back. “Guess I remembered you’re not the most annoying person in this class.”
“Wow. Did you write that one down ahead of time?”
“I practice in the mirror.”
Carter smirked. But it didn’t reach his eyes.
Alex leaned in slightly, just enough to be noticed. “If you’re gonna keep staring at me like that, you could at least buy me dinner first.”
Carter flushed. “You wish .”
“Clearly, I’m the only thing keeping you entertained.”
Carter opened his mouth. Closed it.
Because he wanted to say You’re not wrong, but that felt… dangerous.
Instead he muttered, “Someone’s feeling themselves today.”
Alex leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head. “What can I say? I’m magnetic.”
And Carter should have been annoyed.
But instead he felt that same gnawing thing crawl up his spine- Why are you pretending this didn’t happen? Who made you this good at pretending?
So he said, a little too sharply, “You know, acting fine doesn’t mean you are.”
Alex stiffened.
It was quick. Barely noticeable.
But Carter saw it.
Alex dropped his arms. Sat forward again. “What are you, my therapist now?”
“No. Just someone who doesn’t buy the whole joke-cracking façade.”
Alex’s smile was thinner now. “Well, maybe I just didn’t want you crawling up my ass about it anymore.”
Carter narrowed his eyes. “Why does it bother you so much that I noticed?”
Alex didn’t answer.
Didn’t look at him.
Just gathered up his notes when the bell rang and stood like they hadn’t just been circling something sharp and bleeding between them.
“I’m fine,” he said again. “Let it go.”
He didn’t answer.
Alex didn’t look at him again.
…
The rest of the class passed in a blur of note-taking and under-breath bickering.
Alex was quick with his comebacks again. Jabbing at Carter’s handwriting, making fun of his “intellectual tone,” rolling his eyes whenever Carter started a sentence with “ statistically .”
It felt like the old version of them. Just with more… heat.
More underneath .
Carter found himself watching Alex’s hands again. Not on purpose. Just- they twitched when he wasn’t using them. Fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve. The pop-tab on his pen. The corners of the paper.
He didn’t seem to notice he was doing it.
But Carter did.
Of course he did.
And every time he told himself to stop looking, he just… didn’t.
…
After class.
Alex was already halfway down the hallway when Carter caught up.
“Hey.”
Alex turned, half-laughing. “What, you need a walk home again? I’m off duty.”
“No. I just-" Carter hesitated. “You’re really okay?”
Alex rolled his eyes. “Oh my God. Yes. I’m fine. Jesus, man, I know you’re slow but are you this obsessive with everyone who skips a day of school?”
Carter clenched his jaw. “Just you.”
The words slipped out before he could think.
Alex blinked.
For a second, something shifted in his face.
Then he huffed a laugh and kept walking.
“You need a hobby.”
Carter watched him go, heart thudding.
Yeah.
He really needed a hobby.
…
Wednesday. After school.
They’d put it off all week.
Now the project was due Monday, and Carter refused to let Alex flake again, which was how they ended up in the back corner of the school library- cramped into a narrow study alcove that was definitely not designed for two teenage boys who hated each other.
The table was barely wide enough for their binders. Their knees kept bumping. Alex’s pencil was tapping. Carter’s patience was thin.
“We’re supposed to be outlining the causes,” Carter muttered, scribbling in his notebook. “Not just vibes and bullet points.”
“They are bullet points,” Alex said, mock-offended. “What do you want, a thesis?”
“Yes! That’s literally what a project is.”
Alex leaned back in his chair. “You’re very uptight.”
“And you’re very infuriating.”
Alex smirked. “Now you’re just flirting.”
Carter stared at him.
Alex raised his eyebrows.
“…You’re not funny,” Carter said stiffly.
“Yeah, you’ve said that before,” Alex muttered, glancing away. His voice dropped just a notch. “Usually when you’re trying not to smile.”
Carter didn’t respond.
Because, fine. Maybe he had smiled once or twice. Maybe Alex could be… sharp. Kind of clever. Kind of- whatever.
He wasn’t thinking about that.
He was thinking about the goddamn presentation board and how they were never going to finish it if Alex didn’t stop tilting back in his chair like a smug little gremlin.
Carter grabbed the stack of index cards. “Can you please focus?”
“I am focused,” Alex said, leaning forward suddenly- too close. Elbows on the table. Chin in his hands. “I just happen to be multitasking.”
Carter froze.
Alex was right there now. Close enough that Carter could see the faint bruise-like circles under his eyes, the freckles across his nose, the way his bangs fell in his face when he tilted his head like that.
It hit him too fast- hot, sharp, unwelcome.
He cleared his throat. “What else are you multitasking?”
“Pissing you off,” Alex said casually. “Pretty sure I’m killing it.”
Carter stared at him.
And for a second, the air between them shifted.
Thicker.
Quieter.
Too many thoughts Carter couldn’t afford to have, slamming into him all at once. He didn’t move. Neither did Alex. Their knees were still touching. Alex’s hands were still curled under his chin, and Carter’s eyes dropped to his fingers before snapping back up.
Alex must’ve felt it, too. That something.
Because he blinked. Sat back just a little. Not far. Not enough.
“…You’re staring again,” he said, voice quieter.
“You’re the one in my face,” Carter muttered, too fast.
“You could’ve backed up.”
“ You leaned in.”
Alex raised an eyebrow. “So what? You flinch when guys get too close?”
That made Carter go still.
So still it felt like the whole world held its breath.
Alex must’ve caught it- something , because his face changed. Just a flicker of regret, maybe. Something unreadable.
Carter looked down. Jaw tight. “Let’s just finish the project.”
Alex didn’t say anything.
Just nodded once and grabbed his pen.
The silence buzzed between them like a live wire.
…
The sun was already dipping low by the time they left the school. The hallways were quiet. Echo-y. Locker doors locked, lights flickering, the whole place humming with the kind of stillness that only existed after hours.
Alex shoved his hands in his pockets and kept walking toward the back lot. “Y’know, we might actually pass this class. You should be proud.”
“I’m stunned we didn’t kill each other,” Carter muttered beside him.
Alex grinned. “There’s still time.”
They made it out the side door, footsteps crunching on the gravel. The sky was bruising purple-blue, the last streaks of daylight stretching long shadows across the pavement.
Carter hung back for a second, like he was about to say something.
Alex stepped ahead.
“Hey- wait-" Carter called, maybe reaching for his bag, or maybe just trying to get his attention.
Alex didn’t turn around fast enough.
Carter caught him by the shoulder.
A firm grip. Just that.
Fingers on the fabric of his hoodie. Palm flat between his shoulder blades.
It wasn’t hard.
It wasn’t mean.
But it was behind him.
And that was enough.
Alex froze .
Everything in his body went rigid.
His breath caught like it had snagged on barbed wire. His eyes went wide and distant- he was there, but not really.
Just for a second.
Just long enough.
Carter realized too late.
“- Shit,” he said, stepping back fast. “Alex, I didn’t mean-"
Alex jerked forward, out of reach, like Carter’s hand had burned through the fabric.
He turned around slow. His expression was wrong.
Flat, but off.
His mouth opened, then closed.
And then he said, too light, too shaky, “Guess you got your revenge after all, huh?”
Carter’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“What?” he asked, horrified. “No- no, that’s not-"
“It’s fine.” Alex waved a hand. Smiled like it didn’t matter. “I’m just jumpy. You know me.”
But his voice was thin.
And Carter could see it- see how fast he was blinking, how his hands were twitching at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them.
“Alex, I didn’t mean to grab you like that.”
“I said it’s fine,” Alex snapped.
That smile didn’t crack- it shattered.
And just like that, he turned around and started walking again.
Fast.
Shoulders hunched. Head down.
Leaving Carter standing in the middle of the empty lot, arms limp at his sides, the weight of what just happened settling like a goddamn stormcloud in his chest.
He hadn’t meant to scare him.
He hadn’t meant it.
But Alex’s reaction wasn’t random. It wasn’t exaggerated.
It was real.
And it scared Carter in a way nothing else had.
Because something happened.
And Carter wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it was.
But he couldn’t stop needing to.
Alex stormed ahead, fast and stubborn, the soles of his sneakers slapping hard against the sidewalk.
Carter followed.
Of course he did.
“Don’t,” Alex snapped over his shoulder. “Don’t follow me.”
“Too late.”
“I’m serious.”
“Yeah?” Carter said, catching up. “Well, same. You shouldn’t be walking alone when you’re-"
He stopped himself.
Alex glanced sideways. “When I’m what?”
Carter hesitated. “Shaken.”
Alex scoffed. “Oh, that’s cute. You think you rattled me.”
“I know I did,” Carter said, low. “And I’m sorry.”
They walked in silence for a block.
The sky was darker now. Streetlamps buzzed to life overhead, casting yellow puddles of light that stretched long behind them.
Alex shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. His voice was quieter now, not biting- just worn. “You didn’t mean anything. I know that.”
“I didn’t mean to grab you,” Carter said. “But that doesn’t mean it didn’t screw with you.”
Alex didn’t answer.
Just kept walking.
So Carter did too.
“I didn’t know that was-" Carter stopped. Swallowed. “That something happened to you.”
Alex’s pace didn’t change. But his jaw clenched.
“Nothing happened.”
“Don’t lie.”
“Nothing happened,” Alex repeated, sharper now. “Not the kind of something that counts .”
Carter almost laughed- but it came out bitter. “What the hell does that even mean?”
“It means it wasn’t a big deal,” Alex snapped. “I’m just broken, okay? I freak out when people touch me wrong. That’s not your fault.”
“It’s not your fault either.”
Alex slowed. Just slightly.
Enough for Carter to catch up and fall into step beside him.
“I’m not trying to fix you,” Carter said quietly. “I just… want you to be okay.”
Alex didn’t look at him.
Didn’t respond for a long time.
Then, barely audible: “Why?”
Carter blinked. “What?”
“Why do you care?” Alex’s voice cracked a little. “I thought you hated me.”
“I did .” Carter paused. “I do . Kinda.”
That made Alex huff a dry laugh. “You’re terrible at comforting people.”
“I’m not trying to comfort you,” Carter said, stepping in front of him now, forcing Alex to stop. “I’m trying to be honest.”
Alex stared at him. Eyes tired. Face unreadable.
“So be honest,” he said.
And Carter- idiot that he was- was.
“I care because I notice you, okay?” he said, louder than he meant to. “I see when you’re not sleeping. I see when you’re faking it. And I saw the look on your face when I grabbed you, and it-"
He stopped, breathing hard.
“It scared me,” he finished.
Alex blinked.
Looked away.
For once, he didn’t have a comeback.
Carter rubbed the back of his neck. “I care because I… do. Maybe too much. And I don’t know what to do with that. But I’m walking you home. You don’t get to argue.”
Alex was still quiet.
Still looking at the ground.
Then: “You’re such a dick.”
Carter almost laughed. “ Yeah . I know.”
Alex kicked a rock across the sidewalk.
“…Thanks for walking me.”
“Anytime.”
They didn’t speak again for the rest of the way. But they didn’t need to.
Because when they reached Alex’s steps and he turned to go inside, he hesitated for just a second.
And in that second, he looked back at Carter with something that wasn’t quite a smile- but wasn’t pain either.
Something softer.
And Carter stood there for a long time after the door closed, staring at where Alex had been.
Knowing- really knowing- he was in this now.
Whether he meant to be or not.
…
Thursday. School. Third period.
Alex showed up on time.
No hoodie.
Still tired-looking, sure, but there was something else in his face now- something calm. Settled. Like the edge had dulled, if only a little.
He slid into his seat next to Carter without a word.
Didn’t look at him right away.
Didn’t have to.
Because Carter was already looking at him.
Not staring. Not obvious.
Just watching the way Alex tugged the sleeves of his T-shirt down slightly. The way his fingers twitched against the spiral of his notebook before going still.
The way he existed next to Carter like it wasn’t the most complicated thing in the world.
Carter swallowed. Forced himself to look at the board.
“Sleep?” he asked under his breath, after a beat.
Alex tilted his head, like he was deciding whether to play it off.
Then: “Yeah. A little.”
“You dream?”
Alex tapped his pen against the desk. “Not in a way that matters.”
Carter didn’t know what that meant, but he let it go.
The teacher launched into a lecture about the Civil War and economic division. Carter’s pen hovered over the page for longer than necessary.
Alex nudged him with his elbow. “You writing or drawing stick figures again?”
Carter didn’t look at him. “Shut up.”
But there wasn’t heat in it.
There hadn’t been in a while.
They got through the first twenty minutes like that- quiet barbs, soft jabs, avoiding the way their knees kept knocking under the desk.
And then-
“You meant it, didn’t you?” Alex asked, out of nowhere. Voice low.
Carter turned his head, confused. “What?”
“Last night,” Alex said. Still not looking at him. “What you said. About caring.”
Carter tensed.
Alex’s eyes stayed on the board, but his voice was steady. “You didn’t take it back.”
“No,” Carter said quietly. “I didn’t.”
Alex was silent for a second.
Then he muttered, “Weird.”
Carter blinked. “That I care?”
“That you care about me.”
Carter’s throat felt tight. “Yeah. I know. I’m still processing that too.”
Alex smirked- small. Private. “It’s not bad.”
“What’s not?”
“You caring.”
Carter’s chest felt like it had cracked open a little.
Alex flicked his eyes toward him, brief and burning.
“But don’t get weird about it.”
“Oh, I’m gonna get so weird about it,” Carter muttered.
Alex grinned.
A real one.
…
Lunch.
Alex didn’t sit in his usual spot.
Normally, he and Tod hovered near the courtyard railing with their lunch trays, throwing fries at pigeons and making up fake student gossip.
But today?
Alex walked straight into the cafeteria, eyes scanning the room until they landed on him.
Carter.
Already sitting at a back table, hunched over a carton of chocolate milk like it had personally offended him.
Alex dropped his tray across from him without a word.
Carter looked up, chewing.
“Seriously?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
Alex shrugged. “Where else would I sit?”
Carter blinked. “With your friends?”
“Not hungry for pigeon fries today.”
Carter smirked.
They ate in silence for a minute, both pretending it wasn’t weird. It was weird. But they were leaning into it.
Alex stole a tater tot off Carter’s tray. Carter swatted at his hand but didn’t stop him.
That was when Tod walked in.
He froze mid-step like he’d been hit by a truck.
“…The hell,” he muttered, staring.
Alex didn’t notice at first. Or pretended not to.
Tod made a beeline for the table.
“Am I having a stroke?” he asked, dropping his tray beside Alex and staring at Carter like he was a glitch in the Matrix. “Why are you sitting with- each other?”
“We’re working on a project,” Carter said flatly.
“At lunch?!”
“It’s due Monday,” Alex offered, biting into his sandwich.
Tod squinted. “Okay, and the flirting? Is that part of the assignment?”
Carter choked on his milk. Alex snorted into his food.
“We’re not-" Carter started.
“- flirting,” Alex finished, wiping his mouth. “You’re insane.”
“You literally smiled at each other like five seconds ago.”
“We’re allowed to smile, Tod.”
“Not at each other!”
Carter sighed. “Do you want to sit somewhere else?”
“No, I want to know if I missed a blood moon or some kind of celestial event that made you two stop hating each other.”
Alex rolled his eyes. “It’s not that deep.”
Tod looked between them. Then leaned across the table, squinting like he was trying to x-ray their brains.
“Did someone die and bring you together? Am I in a grief dream? Did one of you get hit by a bus and now you’re a ghost?”
Alex laughed. It was short, but real.
Carter looked down and smiled despite himself.
Tod blinked again. “Oh my god. You’re smiling too.”
“I smile all the time.”
“Not like that! That’s a smug little smile!”
Carter glanced at Alex.
Alex glanced back.
Something flickered- too fast to name, but it was there.
Tod slammed his tray down. “Okay, I can’t do this. I feel like I’m watching a rom-com that I didn’t consent to.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Alex said.
“No. You’re being weirdly chill with your sworn enemy. I’m just noticing.”
Alex took another bite. “Not my enemy anymore.”
Tod raised an eyebrow. “Since when?”
Alex didn’t answer.
And neither did Carter.
Because they didn’t know.
…
6th period. They were back in their usual seats.
Too close.
The project papers were spread out between them again, Carter’s notes organized and bullet-pointed, Alex’s a mess of arrows and underlines and chaotic scribbles that made no sense to anyone but him.
“Just let me re-write this one,” Carter said, grabbing a pen. “I don’t even know what you wrote here.”
“It says ‘economic collapse,’ obviously.”
“That’s not what it looks like. It looks like you got bored and started drawing demon horns on Lincoln.”
Alex leaned over. “Okay, but that’s called visual engagement. You’re welcome.”
Carter rolled his eyes and flipped to the next page. “Just- pass me that reference sheet.”
Alex reached for it at the same time.
Their hands touched.
Not just brushed- touched.
Palm to palm.
Not for long.
Not really.
But it was enough.
Alex froze.
Carter didn’t move either.
Just sat there. Breathing. Feeling.
And then Alex looked up at him- really looked at him- and the space between them tilted.
Time bent weird.
Their hands were still there.
Still touching.
And suddenly it was way too quiet. Way too close. And Carter couldn’t stop staring at the spot where their fingers met like it meant something.
Because it did.
Neither of them pulled away.
Alex’s breathing changed. Shallow. Quick.
His eyes flicked to Carter’s lips, then back up so fast it was almost nothing.
Almost.
Carter swallowed hard.
“You’re doing it again,” Alex said, voice quiet.
“What?”
“Staring.”
“You’re the one still touching me.”
Alex blinked- like he’d only just realized.
He jerked his hand back like it had burned. Sat back too fast, knocking his notebook off the desk.
It hit the floor with a loud smack.
“Jesus,” Carter muttered, bending to grab it.
Alex didn’t help.
Just sat there, staring at his hands like they didn’t belong to him.
Carter handed the notebook back without a word.
Alex took it. Slowly.
Neither of them looked at each other.
For the rest of the period, the air between them hummed- electric, awkward, unbearable.
They didn’t speak again.
Didn’t need to.
Because everything had already been said without a single word.
…
Alex didn’t invite him.
Carter just showed up.
“Don’t you have a house?” Alex asked as Carter tossed his backpack on the floor and helped himself to the desk chair in Alex’s room.
“Yeah,” Carter said. “But your printer actually works.”
“That’s literally not true.”
“Okay. I wanted your Pop-Tarts.”
Alex rolled his eyes, grabbing a folder off the floor. “God, you’re needy.”
“And yet you let me in.”
Alex flipped him off but didn’t kick him out. He dropped onto the edge of the bed, cross-legged, sorting through notes like he wasn’t keenly aware of Carter watching him.
Carter leaned back in the desk chair, spinning slightly. “You always work in here?”
Alex shrugged. “I exist in here.”
“Cool. Love the existential vibe.”
They worked in semi-silence for a while. Shuffling papers, scribbling notes, arguing over whether their presentation should include handouts or just slides.
Alex kept his distance- mostly.
But then Carter’s chair was too squeaky. The light was too dim. His neck started hurting.
So naturally, he stood up, flopped dramatically onto the bed beside Alex, and said, “Okay. Your floor plan sucks.”
Alex looked over. “What are you doing?”
“My back hurts.”
“Go home, old man.”
“You know your mattress is actually better than mine?”
“Carter.”
“I’m just saying.”
Alex shook his head, but he didn’t move away. He didn’t tell him to get off the bed.
Carter’s shoulder brushed his. Barely.
Neither of them acknowledged it.
“Okay,” Alex muttered, flipping to a fresh page. “We still need to finish the last section.”
Carter leaned closer to read, and their arms touched again.
This time, Alex twitched- but didn’t pull away.
“You good?” Carter asked softly.
Alex hesitated. “I’m fine.”
Carter gave him a look.
“Really,” Alex added. “Just… don’t grab me again. From behind.”
The words weren’t sharp. They weren’t even angry. Just real.
Honest.
Carter nodded once. “I won’t.”
Their eyes met.
Too long.
Alex looked away first, reaching for a highlighter that definitely didn’t need to be used.
Carter didn’t stop staring.
Not until Alex elbowed him. “Do something useful or get off my bed.”
Carter smirked, reaching for his notebook. “Relax. I’m making this group project historic.”
“You’re gonna be historic if you keep breathing near my neck.”
…
The late afternoon sun slanted through Alex’s bedroom window, making weird stripes of light across the carpet. The room smelled like old laundry and cheap body spray- faint traces of burnt Pop-Tart crust lingering from breakfast still hung in the air.
Alex’s room was exactly what Carter expected. Chaotic. Posters half peeling off the walls. Piles of CDs. Open sketchbooks. A mattress that looked half-made, blankets tangled like a hurricane hit.
Carter sat cross-legged on the floor, marker cap between his teeth, scowling at the half-finished poster board spread out in front of him like it had personally offended him.
"You're making that title way too small," Alex said from where he was sprawled on the bed, one sock halfway off, tapping the corner of his notebook with a cracked blue pen like he was waiting for inspiration to fall from the ceiling.
"I'm not," Carter muttered around the marker cap. "I measured it. It’s centered."
"Yeah, well, it looks like it’s whispering."
Carter pulled the cap out with a loud pop and glared at him. "Do you want to do it?"
Alex snorted. "Nope."
"Then shut up."
Alex grinned, lazy and smug, before tossing one of the index cards at Carter’s head. It bounced off and landed near the scissors.
They’d been at it for over an hour already- cutting out dumb pictures they’d printed in the school library earlier, scribbling bullet points in Sharpie, arguing about font sizes like it mattered. The paper smelled like glue and frustration.
Carter exhaled through his nose and sat back, staring at their mess. "You know, if we fail this after all the time we wasted arguing-"
Alex stretched, arms over his head, shirt riding up just enough to flash a strip of pale stomach. "Then at least we go down swinging."
Carter looked away too fast. "You’re insufferable."
"Yeah, yeah. Tell me something new."
The house was quiet. Alex’s mom was working late at the hospital, and his dad was pulling double shifts somewhere out past the highway- meaning the place was theirs for the afternoon, no questions, no interruptions.
The radio hummed low from the corner. Some alt-rock station playing stuff that sounded just fuzzy enough on the speakers to feel distant.
Alex sat up finally, swinging his legs off the bed. "We still need to finish the timeline section," he said, flopping onto the floor beside Carter with way too much energy for someone who’d nearly fallen asleep during second period history.
Carter handed him a marker without looking directly at him. "You’re writing this part. Your handwriting’s already a disaster. Can’t get worse."
"Wow. The romance is alive and well," Alex deadpanned, uncapping the pen and leaning over the board.
Carter’s heart kicked weirdly at that- romance - and he hated how fast his brain grabbed onto the word and refused to let go.
Alex’s shoulder brushed his. Brief. Accidental. Nothing.
Except Carter felt it like a live wire.
He shifted sideways. Not enough to make it obvious. Just… enough.
Alex didn’t notice. Or pretended not to.
"Okay, what’s next-" Alex started, but Carter cut him off.
"Hang on, you spelled ‘economic’ wrong."
Alex blinked down at the board. "That’s how you spell it."
"It’s not."
Alex squinted. "You sure?"
"Yes, I’m sure."
Alex sighed dramatically, dropped the marker, and flopped backward on the carpet like the universe had personally betrayed him.
Carter watched the way his bangs fell into his face when he closed his eyes.
"God, this project’s gonna kill me," Alex mumbled, voice muffled by his sleeve.
"Not if I strangle you first," Carter said automatically, but there wasn’t any heat behind it.
Alex snorted a tired laugh.
He dropped his bag onto the floor, cracking his knuckles as he sat down. “Alright. Let’s get this finished. No way I’m doing this all weekend.”
“Oh yeah?” Alex plopped into the seat across from him, folding his legs criss-cross. “You got big weekend plans, Carter Horton?”
Carter grabbed the glue stick. “Yeah. Not staring at your face for eight hours, for starters.”
“Tragic. I was starting to think you liked it.”
Carter didn’t answer. Mostly because if he did, something dumb might come out.
…
“Alright.” Alex reached over, flattening the corner of the poster with one hand, his arm brushing Carter’s. “We just gotta finish the captions. And the timeline.”
Carter scribbled something down. “We’re basically geniuses.”
“Obviously.”
Alex shifted. His shoulder bumped Carter’s again. This time, it stayed there.
Neither said anything.
Carter tapped his pen against the table. “You, uh... you always do projects at the table?”
“Nah.” Alex flicked a glance sideways. “Usually do ’em on my bed. Desk’s a mess.”
Carter hesitated. “...So why the table?”
Alex’s mouth pulled sideways. “Dunno. Figured you’d freak out if I asked you to sit on my bed.”
I wouldn’t, Carter didn’t say.
Out loud, just: “I wouldn’t freak out.”
Alex blinked. “Oh.”
Silence.
Loaded. Heavy.
“You wanna move?” Alex asked, casual. Too casual.
Carter should’ve said no.
Should’ve.
Instead, he shoved his notebook under his arm, grabbed the stack of index cards, and stood. “Yeah. Whatever. Table sucks anyway.”
Alex flopped back onto the bed like it was nothing. Like this was normal.
Carter sat at the foot, cross-legged. Awkward. Trying not to look like he was noticing how small the bed felt with both of them on it.
“Here.” Alex handed him a marker. “You do the dates, I’ll do the captions.”
Carter nodded. Quiet. Focused.
But... not really.
Because the distance between them wasn’t even a foot now. Their knees bumped again. Carter shifted- Alex shifted at the exact same time- and suddenly Carter’s thigh was pressed against Alex’s.
Neither of them moved.
Not my problem, Carter told himself for the hundredth time.
But it felt like a problem.
It felt like the problem.
…
A few minutes passed. Markers scratched. Alex leaned forward, pulling the poster across his knees. His shoulder pressed fully into Carter’s arm now.
“Okay,” Alex muttered, scribbling. “Timeline’s done. Almost.”
His hair was falling in his eyes again. He reached up to push it back, grumbling, smearing a faint streak of blue marker across his cheek without noticing.
Carter didn’t mean to.
Really.
But his hand moved before he thought about it- reaching out. Thumb brushing the side of Alex’s face.
“You’ve got-"
His voice cut off.
Because Alex froze.
Not scared. Not startled. Just- staring.
Carter’s thumb was still on his cheek. They were close. Stupidly close.
Neither of them breathed.
Neither of them moved.
And then-
“...What,” Alex said. Not a question. Barely a word.
Carter’s throat clicked. “You- had marker. On your face.”
“Oh.”
Silence.
Too loud. Too long.
Carter didn’t pull his hand away.
Neither did Alex.
His breathing picked up. Faster. Shallower. His fingers twitched in his lap like he didn’t know where to put them.
Carter swallowed. “You, uh...”
“Yeah,” Alex breathed. “Yeah, you’re... yeah.”
None of it made sense. It didn’t have to.
Because Carter leaned in. Alex tilted up to meet him.
And then-
It happened.
Fast. Messy.
A collision more than a kiss. Teeth clacked. Noses bumped. Hands grabbed at whatever was close- shirts, wrists, shoulders. Alex’s fingers twisted in Carter’s hoodie. Carter’s hands shoved into Alex’s hair like it was the only thing holding him upright.
Breathing turned to gasping. Gasping turned to- God , Carter didn’t even know. Desperation. Heat. Static in his head.
Alex tugged. Carter pushed. They both overbalanced- slamming back against the mattress, Alex beneath him, legs tangled. Neither of them cared.
None of it felt real.
None of it felt fake.
It was like something that’d been trying to happen for months just snapped loose all at once.
Carter’s hand slid down. Fingertips gripping Alex’s hip. His weight pressed forward, pinning Alex just slightly- just enough to shift how his wrist ended up.
His palm landed right there.
Across Alex’s wrist.
Pinned.
Not on purpose. Just for balance. Just to hold himself up.
But it was enough.
Enough for Alex’s whole body to lock.
Every part of him went stiff- tight- like a tripwire pulled taut.
His breath sucked in, sharp and wrong.
“Don’t.”
Carter’s head snapped up. “What-?” He scrambled off, arms flailing. “Shit. Alex- I-"
Alex sat up fast, back hitting the wall, breathing like someone had knocked the wind out of him. Palms flat against the mattress. Eyes wide. Too wide.
“Don’t- just- don’t grab me like that.”
Voice cracking. Frantic.
Carter froze. “I wasn’t- I didn’t mean to- I wasn’t thinking-"
Alex squeezed his eyes shut. Shoved his hands through his hair. “I know. I know , okay? I know it’s not you . I just- can’t . I can’t when it’s like-"
His voice broke.
“When I can’t move.”
“Alex.”
Carter opened his mouth. Shut it.
His stomach twisted. His hands felt wrong. Heavy. Useless.
“Alex…” he tried.
Didn’t know what came after.
Didn’t get the chance to figure it out.
Because Alex dragged in a breath- shaky, hitched, brittle- and said, “I’m not freaking out because of you. Okay? It’s not you. You didn’t do anything.”
Carter blinked. His chest hurt. “Then what-"
“It’s me.” Alex’s voice cracked. “It’s always me.”
A sharp, bitter laugh. The kind that didn’t sound anything like a laugh.
“I’m broken, Carter. That’s it. I freak out over nothing. Stupid shit. Like- it’s not even real. It’s not even-"
He scrubbed both hands over his face, breathing hard, fingers dragging through his hair like he wanted to rip it out.
Carter leaned in. Closer, but careful. Didn’t touch. Didn’t even let himself think about touching. “It’s not nothing. Don’t-"
“It is.” Alex’s voice snapped sharp. Cracked right down the middle. “It is. Because it wasn’t-" His voice caught. Froze. “It wasn’t even that bad.”
Carter felt like someone had knocked the air out of him.
“What…?”
Alex laughed again. Hollow. Mean. But only at himself. “I wasn’t even- I wasn’t hurt. Not really. Not like-"
His fists clenched. Jaw tight. Eyes burning, staring at nothing. “I just got… freaked out. And it’s stupid. It shouldn’t- it shouldn’t still-"
Carter’s head was spinning.
“Alex,” he said, quietly but firm. “What are you talking about?”
And Alex- God, Alex looked like he wanted to swallow the words. Like he wanted to shove them down, choke them back, bury them where they’d been rotting for years.
But something broke instead.
Like once it cracked open, it wasn’t closing again.
“Eighth grade,” Alex muttered. Flat. Distant. “Gym class. You know- when I used to help set up? Put the cones out. Grab the dodgeballs. All that stupid crap.”
Carter blinked. Nodded. Slow. “Yeah…?”
“Coach said he needed help. Like- grabbing stuff out of the equipment closet. You know the one. By the back doors.”
Carter’s stomach dropped.
Something heavy. Ice cold.
Alex’s voice stayed weirdly level. Too level. “I was crouching. Getting the bins. And he- he came up behind me. Just- pressed himself against me. Hands on my hips. Just for a second.”
Carter’s entire body locked up.
Alex kept going. Couldn’t stop now. “He said something like- ‘Oh, you’re growing up fast.’ Or some gross shit like that. And then he stepped back. Acted like it was nothing. Smiled. Just- walked off.”
A brittle inhale. “I told someone. A teacher. I- I don’t even know how. I just- I couldn’t stop shaking.”
“Holy shit. That was you ? ”
Carter had remembered seeing it on the news- it passing ear to ear around the school during summer break. He thought it was some poor girl- not Alex .
Alex shoved his hands through his hair again. “ He didn’t even go to jail . Just house arrest. He’s not allowed near minors or schools anymore . Big freaking deal , right?” His laugh was sharp.
Carter’s hands clenched so tight his knuckles ached. His jaw hurt from grinding his teeth. “That’s-"
“It’s nothing.” Alex’s voice was rising now. Cracked and sharp and desperate. “It’s not like- he didn’t- he didn’t do anything, Carter. He didn’t touch me like that . He didn’t- he didn’t get the chance. So why does it still- why does my brain still-"
His voice broke.
“Why do I still feel like this ?”
Carter was shaking. Couldn’t tell if it was rage or panic or just- something huge crawling under his skin.
His vision was blurry. Breath too tight.
“Alex-"
“I hate it.” Alex curled tighter around himself. “I hate that it feels like it counts. Like it broke something in me anyway. It shouldn’t. I should be fine. I should be fine.”
“Stop.”
Alex blinked. Looked up.
Carter’s hands were shaking, fists in his lap. His voice came out rough, cracked open down the middle. “Don’t say it doesn’t count. Don’t you dare say that.”
Alex stared. “But it wasn’t-"
“It was enough.” Carter’s voice hit like gravel. “ It was enough to mess you up . It was enough to make you feel like this . That’s all it takes.”
He dragged in a breath. Scrubbed both hands through his hair. “Jesus Christ. I wanna- I wanna kill him.”
Alex snorted. A wet, ugly sound. “ It’s fine .”
Carter looked at him- really looked- and his whole chest hurt. Like there was something in it too big to hold.
“I don’t know how to-" Carter bit his lip. “I don’t know how to fix this . I don’t know how to say the right thing.”
“Good.” Alex dragged a sleeve across his face. “Because there isn’t a right thing.”
Carter shifted. Moved closer. Slowly. Careful.
Not touching. Not yet.
“But you’re not broken.”
Alex flinched. “You don’t get to say that.”
“I’m saying it anyway.”
They sat there in the thick, buzzing silence.
Neither one knowing what the hell to do. But neither one moving away.
Silence. Heavy.
Alex wiped at his face with the sleeve of his hoodie like that’d somehow erase the fact he just spilled his entire chest open on Carter’s bedroom floor. Or… his own bedroom floor, whatever. Didn’t matter. It felt like the same thing- Carter being here.
Alex hated how his throat felt. Hated how his ribs felt. Hated how stupid he sounded.
And- God- he hated how the first words out of his mouth were, “Sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped all that on you.”
Carter snapped his head toward him so fast it was almost whiplash. “Don’t.”
Alex blinked. “What?”
“Don’t say that. Don’t apologize. Don’t act like- I dunno- like it’s wrong to talk to me about it.” Carter’s voice was low, but sharp. Edged. Not angry at him. But angry at… everything else. “You’re allowed to talk to me. You’re allowed to- God- just… not carry this by yourself.”
Alex opened his mouth. Closed it. His fingers dug into the fabric of his sleeves. “Yeah but… it’s not your problem.”
“It is now.” Carter’s eyes were hot. His jaw tight. “Like it or not.”
Silence buzzed between them again. But it wasn’t the same as before. Not heavy in the same way.
Just… thick.
Tense.
Charged.
Like everything that had been creeping under the surface for weeks- months, maybe- was suddenly pressed right up against the glass, waiting to shatter.
Alex dragged in a breath like his lungs didn’t quite work right. His hands trembled, but not the same kind of tremble as before. Not panic.
Something else.
Nervous. Restless. Feral.
He glanced sideways. Met Carter’s eyes for half a second too long.
Carter didn’t look away.
Didn’t blink.
Didn’t breathe.
Carter’s hand twitched. He didn’t even realize it moved until it brushed Alex’s knee.
Alex’s breath hitched.
Carter noticed.
God, he noticed.
And maybe it was because everything was already raw and broken open. Or maybe it was because they were idiots who didn’t know how to deal with feelings like normal people.
But Carter said- voice rough, low, stupid, “Do you want me to go?”
Alex blinked. “Do you?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Then don’t,” Alex whispered.
And neither of them really knew who moved first.
Or maybe they did. Maybe it was both of them.
Carter’s hand on the side of Alex’s jaw. Alex’s fingers curling in Carter’s shirt.
A breath. A glance. One second where they could’ve still pulled back.
And then-
Crash.
Mouths collided. Clumsy. Messy. Too much teeth. Too much everything.
Carter grabbed tighter, dragged Alex closer like his body moved before his brain. Like he needed this. Needed him.
Alex made a noise- quiet, desperate, punched-out- and it was over.
There was no thinking. No space for it. Just hands and mouths and heat and too many weeks of what the hell are we doing finally spilling over again.
Carter didn’t know where to put his hands. His jaw. His brain.
Everywhere he touched felt like it burned.
Alex’s fingers fisted in his hair. His other hand clutched Carter’s wrist like if he let go, he’d fall straight through the floor.
They kissed like it wasn’t supposed to happen. Like it was inevitable anyway.
Sloppy. Breathless.
Alex flinched. Not bad. Not sharp. But- noticeable. His grip stuttered. His breathing hitched weird.
Carter felt it immediately.
“Alex?”
But Alex surged forward. Kissed him harder. Like covering it. Like don’t notice, don’t pull away, don’t stop-
But Carter did stop.
He pulled back just an inch. Hand still on Alex’s jaw. “Hey. Hey. Look at me.”
Alex’s eyes were glassy. Wide. Breathing sharp.
And Carter knew that look.
Knew it too well now.
“Alex. Breathe.” His voice softened. His hand stayed right where it was- gentle now. Steady.
Alex blinked. Swallowed. Didn’t let go of Carter’s wrist.
Didn’t want to let go.
But the panic was crawling up his spine anyway.
“It’s not you,” Alex gasped. Voice tight. “It’s not you. I just-"
His breath stuttered.
Carter nodded. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”
Alex squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t wanna screw this up. I don’t- I don’t wanna ruin this too.”
Carter’s chest cracked open. “You’re not ruining anything.”
Alex shook his head, fists clenching in Carter’s sleeve now. “You don’t get it. I- I want- I just- my head-"
Carter swallowed. Thought fast. Thought hard.
“Okay. Okay, listen.” His hand slid from Alex’s jaw to his shoulder. Gentle. Solid. Not holding him down- just there. “We can stop. Or slow down. Or- I don’t care. Whatever you need. You’re driving. Not me.”
Alex blinked. His breathing started to ease. A little. Not a lot.
“But-"
“No buts. I mean it.” Carter’s voice was steady now. “I’m not gonna grab you. Not gonna push. You tell me what feels okay. Or what doesn’t.”
Alex swallowed. Voice smaller. “I don’t… I don’t wanna stop. I just-"
His hands trembled.
“It’s my brain. It’s not you . I want it. I just- my head starts thinking stupid shit.”
Carter nodded. “I get it.”
He didn’t. Not completely. But he meant it anyway.
“Okay.”