Chapter Text
The first thing Justin notices is the warmth. It's a solid feeling along his front and he presses closer to it, and he thinks this is the most relaxed he's ever been waking up. The building fear he'd feel waking up in his own bed is absent, as is the uneasy, angry feeling caused by waking at Bryce's.
The presence of neither of those things is what makes Justin confused. He feels content, warm, safe. It could only be one place.
Now, the only thing to wonder about is the solid form pressed to his chest.
He blinks his eyes open to a face full of blonde hair and stiffens. He's curled up against Alex's back, arm wrapped over his thin waist.
His immediate urge is to tighten that grip, to pull Alex back as close as he can, into his chest. He wants to wrap both arms around him and hold on.
But maybe Alex doesn't.
He probably doesn't. Why would he? He could do a lot better than Justin. He probably isn't even into guys. Justin isn't into guys. Is he?
He lets himself focus on Alex's warm body against his own and curses internally.
He is. Most definitely is into guys, or at least, this one in particular. He really doesn't know how he's only figuring it out now. If anything, it should have been quite obvious from his little confrontation yesterday. He'd been ready to rip Bryce's head off his shoulders if he so much as uttered another word about Alex.
It only sinks in now that he probably wouldn't have been so strongly willing to do that if he didn't feel strongly about the matter. Subject. Person.
Justin pulls a face at himself. Honestly. This is just typical.
No. He won't let his emotions take over. Getting close to him wouldn't be good for Alex, it never is for anyone. He'd stay close enough to protect him, but far enough away that he wouldn't hurt him.
He slowly lifts his arm from Alex's waist and rolls away, doing his best not to jostle the boy or make too much noise. He rests on his back, head still turned so he can see Alex. A part of him feels like he should roll on over, out of the bed, and leave, or at the very least lay on the floor until the other wakes up.
But he's supposed to be here, Alex told him to sleep here, he knows he is, is expecting to wake up next to Justin. He lets that thought comfort him and sinks into the mattress, letting himself relax under the warmth of the covers.
The light coming through the window is still soft, low. Early morning light.
The boy next to him shifts slightly, and Justin’s alerted to it by the rustle of the sheets. Alex turns, and before Justin realises it, there's a head pillowed on his chest and an arm wrapped snugly around his waist.
Justin stiffens. Soft strands of Alex's blonde hair tickle his chin and his hand is warm and solid against his side and Justin's pulse is starting to race much too quickly under his skin.
He'd wrapped his arms around him so easily last night. Pulled him into a hug and cried on his shoulder. Sure, the touch had still affected him. It couldn't not, it was still Alex. But after his earlier realisation, it seems he's become suddenly hyper aware of Alex's touch. He also very much seems to like it.
He really should move away, he tells himself. Should extricate himself from Alex's grip and leave the way he came.
He just, really doesn't want to.
You aren't the one who initiated it this time, the part of his brain eager for him to stay right where he is with Alex reminds him. He's the one who rolled over and started cuddling you. Plus, if you move now there's a lot more chance you'll wake him. Trust me. It's less awkward if you just let it be.
Justin wholeheartedly agrees with the idea.
He lets his bones go lax again, and slowly wraps his arm around Alex's back, holding him against him. He revels in the warmth the contact provides and tugs the duvet over them properly, up to Alex's shoulder. Alex seems to appreciate the gesture, pressing his face into Justin's chest, going boneless in his hold.
Tufts of bleached hair are still tickling his neck, and he resists the urge to brush them down and kiss the top of his head. Instead, his fingers end up tracing idle patterns on the boy’s back, touch so featherlight he doubts Alex can even feel it through his shirt.
That turns out to be a wrong assumption, and either Justin's touch was a little heavier than he thought or Alex is just super sensitive to it.
Either way, the blonde gives a sleepy little huff and moves under Justin's hand for a moment before he slowly blinks his eyes open.
He squints up at Justin through tired eyes for a moment before they slide shut again and a small smile curves the corners of his mouth. He mumbles a muffled, “Hi,” against Justin's chest and curls closer, hand closing tighter over Justin's side.
A slow grin works it's way across Justin's lips. “Hey,” he gets out softly, listening as Alex's breath changes, being dragged from the peacefulness of sleep before now settling back into a relaxed rhythm, though this time one of wakefulness.
Awake, but apparently still much too tired to move even off Justin's chest. Not that he minds in the slightest, of course.
He lifts a hand to card through Alex's soft hair as he waits for him to wake up at his own pace. He does so slowly, leaning into Justin's touch and tilting his head up, eventually opening his eyes fully to look at him.
Justin smirks slightly when he does, raising a teasing brow, though he's sure the soft look in his eyes gives him away. “Comfy?”
Alex hums. “Very.” He accentuates his reply with a squeeze to Justin's side, propping his chin up on his chest.
The gesture does nothing to slow down the fluttering of Justin's pulse, which he's sure Alex can actually hear at this point. He can probably even feel his heart trying to beat it's way out of his chest where he's leaning on it. Probably knows exactly what he's doing to him.
If he does, he gives no indication of it. He looks up at Justin silently, fingers absently tapping a rhythm against his stomach.
“How long have I been lying on you?” Alex asks suddenly.
Justin blinks at him, then shrugs slightly, tugging on his blonde hair. “Not long.” Alex hums and Justin pulls on his locks again. “You planning on getting your fat ass off me anytime soon?”
The way his arms tighten around the blonde as he says it is proof he doesn't actually want that to happen in the slightest. So when Alex does just that and pulls himself out of Justin's hold to lie back on the pillow next to his, he's more than a little disappointed.
It's shown in the way his expression drops and he barely stops himself from reaching out to pull Alex back against him. He does, however, let loose a soft whine of protest and has to resist the urge to slap his hand over his mouth.
“I was kidding,” he informs Alex. “Especially about your ass, I mean, it isn't fat at all, none of you is, like seriously what do you eat? Definitely not fat, not that I pay attention to your ass or anything just, a general observation.”
He trails off slowly, desperately wanting to hide under the covers more and more with each idiotic word that falls from his mouth.
Should’ve just slapped your hand over your mouth. It would've been less embarrassing than this.
Alex stares at him for a moment. “I think the more you explained the worse it got.”
He's grinning, though, eyes shining, and Justin thinks the embarrassment was worth it. He doesn't want Alex to know that, though, so he scowls, kicking him lightly under the covers.
The grin slowly slides off his face though, replaced with a more serious look, but still underlain with something soft. “I let it go the past two nights, now. You have to explain something eventually.”
Justin's lips tug into a frown. “No, I don't,” he grumbles, twisting onto his side, looking away from Alex and smushing the side of his face into the pillow.
There's silence for a moment, before Justin feels the mattress dip as Alex shifts closer. Thin arms wrap around his waist and a chin presses into his shoulder, a cheek resting against his.
“Okay,” Alex relents. “You don't have to. But I want you to know you can, if you want to.”
Justin lies there a while longer, quietly, debating, before he lets out a groan. “Fuck you, Standall.” He rolls himself over again and Alex pulls back just in time to avoid Justin's head knocking into his. “Fine. What do you wanna know?”
Alex shrugs slightly, awkwardly from the position he's lying in. “Whatever you wanna tell me.”
They lie silently for a moment. Justin wants to tell him anything he wants to know, wants to explain why he's here, why he's the way he is, but he doesn't know where to start. He voices this, just the last part, and Alex takes his hand, running his thumb over the bandaged knuckles.
“Start wherever your story does.”
Justin watches him, allows himself to take another minute and just feel the pressure of the touch on his hand. Barely there, just enough to be felt. How does his story start, how does he end up here? How does he rationalise what he's done? It shouldn't matter, he shouldn't be allowed to, but he tries anyway.
“I don't remember my dad,” he just says, eventually. “He left when I was little. I've never really cared, I guess, but it messed up my mom pretty bad.”
He twists his hand around in Alex’s, pressing their palms together and wrapping his fingers around the blonde’s. “She started drinking, and smoking, doing drugs. She didn't have the money for it, though, she didn't even have a job. So she started dating whatever guys she could find, ones that would buy her her beer and her weed and whatever the fuck else she wanted to get drunk or high on.”
Alex is looking at him, he knows. Eyes trained on his face as he speaks. Justin can't bring himself to look back; he keeps his eyes fixed on their hands, keeps running his thumb over Alex's fingers, notices how Alex's pale skin isn't a much different colour to the bandage it's so white.
“Occasionally they're alright, y'know? None of them are ever really good, but they're just there, and it's easy to deal with. Then others, they're just. They're assholes.”
He pauses, then. He doesn't elaborate, can't, thinks he doesn't have to. Alex is smart; Justin doesn't have to give him the details, what he's said already is enough for him to figure it out. To understand.
Light fingers settle against his neck.
He flinches instinctively at the touch and Alex quickly pulls his hand away. “Sorry,” he murmurs.
But Justin instantly misses the touch, annoyed at himself for the unconscious reaction. He shakes his head, squeezing the hand that never left his hold. “No, I-I’m sorry.”
Alex shakes his head gently. “Don't be.” He reaches out again, slowly, hand floating near Justin's shoulder. Giving him time to pull away, to say no, to reject the touch. He doesn't. Alex's fingertips are featherlight against his neck, tracing the skin, the bruises. So different to the hand that left them there; so much softer, gentler.
He savours the feeling and the emotions it causes, the feeling of safety that curls around his heart at just a brush of Alex's hand.
His eyes slide shut as Alex’s thumb skims the underside of his jaw. It brushes a trail down his neck and back up, over and over, Alex's hand now cupping his neck fully. “He did this to you? Your mom’s boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” Justin's surprised at the way it comes out, the hoarseness of his voice. He clears his throat. “Seth. Bryce and I used to call him Meth Seth.”
Alex snorts, and Justin opens his eyes to look at him, expecting that half amused smile. But the blonde's expression is still serious, eyebrows pinched together. Justin resists the urge to reach up and smooth the crease.
“When did he do this?” he asks, quietly.
Justin keeps his eyes on Alex's face easily with the blonde's still fixed on his neck. It's oddly calming. “Yesterday. It's why I went there. I couldn't stay home.”
Alex looks up at him, then. “You could've come here.”
And, well, Justin doesn't really know what to say that. He did come here, eventually. When the thought of Alex hurt had become a living thing in his mind, and he needed to reassure himself it wasn't reality. To see him here, in one piece, and wrap his arms around him, hold him tight and safe and alive.
“I couldn't, though,” he just says.
He watches as Alex's eyebrows pull together, sees a mixture of confusion and annoyance take over his expression; confusion at his words, annoyance at—well, he doesn't know. Considering it's one of the things he was desperately trying to avoid, he just hopes it isn't at him.
“You didn't have a problem with it the night before,” Alex says, softly.
Justin swallows, shaking his head again, unconsciously leaning towards Alex, into the touch still light on his neck. “That was different, though.”
Alex raises a brow, silently asking him to continue.
“I was desperate then. I just, I was tired. Jessica wouldn't talk to me and Zach wouldn't reply to my texts and the thought of staying at Bryce's, it was just… I couldn't. You were the only one I thought might even consider letting me in, the only one I wanted to.”
Justin didn't mean to make such a confession. He only meant to explain shortly, but now that the subject had been broached, it seemed his mouth was going to say what it wanted. What it hadn't got to, before, when the person he might've started telling it too didn't actually care.
He worries it's too much, though, more than he should've admitted. But Alex just looks at him curiously, tightening his hand around Justin's, and it eases the fear. “What changed?”
The jock looks away at this, back down, eyes falling somewhere around Alex's chest. “You would've said something. You would've asked and I would've wanted to tell you. You would let me stay again, and give me food, and I'd actually get to sleep, and I shouldn't, because I'm an asshole and you shouldn't care about me.”
“I mean,” he continues, “you took me to Bryce's. You watched me tell Jessica, watched me fuck everything up and still brought me back here. You didn't say anything when I cried, you just, set up a bed on the floor and stayed awake until I fell asleep—and I know you did, because I listened—and made me breakfast the next day. Who the fuck does that, Standall?”
He looks up again in time to see Alex smile slightly, lips just quirking at the corners. “Me, obviously.”
Justin huffs a breath out through his nose, the weakest attempt at a laugh. “I'm trying to be serious here. I was fucked up after all of it, more than usual, and you didn't need my pathetic ass taking up space here again.”
Alex stares at him. “I think that's the dumbest thing you've said.”
The jock snorts at that. “I dunno, I've said some pretty dumb things.”
“True,” Alex hums in agreement. “But that's the dumbest. I mean, seriously? If I didn't want to let you stay, I wouldn't have. Didn't you just describe exactly what happened anyway?”
Justin's face falls. “I'm sorry.”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m glad you came here. I'm not exactly happy about why, but I'm glad you're here.”
The urge to pull the younger boy into his arms grips Justin, and this time it's too strong to resist. He untangles his fingers from Alex's, slightly pleased at the way his expression drops momentarily because of it, before sliding his arms around the blonde's waist.
He tugs slightly and Alex comes easily, settling against Justin's chest and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Alex pulls him into him and Justin gratefully buries his head in his chest, pressing close.
Alex curls around him and Justin burrows as close as he can. He shouldn't be doing this, tells himself over and over to let go and move away, to stop letting himself have this, feel like this. He doesn't know why this boy has been so kind to him, how he's gained the other, but he's too scared to ask in fear of losing it.
Instead, he says, “I punched Bryce.”
The light movement of fingers against his back stops briefly as Alex takes in the abrupt statement, before resuming his stroking. “Good.”
Justin can't help a little laugh from bubbling past his lips. He holds Alex a little tighter. “Is that all? I mean, I agree, but I was waiting for the ‘why’.”
“Do you really need a reason to punch Bryce?” Alex asks, seemingly with genuine curiosity. “You had one, though. Something happened when you were there yesterday, and it's why you came here.”
The brunette nods. Doesn't say anything.
“Did he do something? Say something?” Alex guesses. “About, before? About Jessica?”
This time Justin shakes his head. “He did say something. Not about Jessica.”
“What about then?”
“You.”
He can't see the boy's reaction, but he can imagine it, imagine they way his lips part and he blinks, his brows pull together. “Me?”
Justin pulls back and looks up at him, finding his assumptions to be completely correct. He reaches up, smoothes the crease of Alex's brow with his thumb while he nods.
“Why does it matter what he says about me? It probably isn't anything worse than he's said before.”
He says it matter-of-factly, and Justin scowls, winding his arms back around him. “If you're trying to make me less pissed, that isn't working, Alex.”
Alex ducks his head, fingers twisting anxiously behind Justin's neck. “I'm just saying if you were gonna hit him for anything you should've at least done it for something that mattered.”
“What?” Justin stares at him. “Alex. That's the dumbest thing you've ever said.”
The blonde's gaze flits back up to him.
Justin smiles slightly. “Seriously? What's a better reason to hit that asshole than him threatening to put his disgusting hands anywhere near you?”
Alex watches him in what seems to be mild awe. “I didn't realise you actually cared that much.”
“I'm not sure there's much I care about more,” Justin admits quietly. “They were just– Monty was complaining, but he was mostly joking around; said something about you saying he wasn't man enough. Then Bryce… He was being a dick. Said he'd ‘show you man enough’.”
He feels Alex squirm slightly and tightens his grip on the smaller boy, feeling the wave of anger and protectiveness flow through him again after it had dissipated slightly during the night.
“It just, it made me think of Jess and Hannah. How I couldn't protect them—how I didn't try hard enough. The thought of him hurting you,” Justin trails off. “I lost it. Then Monty tried to stop me, and all I could think about was him hitting you, so I just. Repaid the favour.”
Alex's eyes widen. “You hit Montgomery too?”
“I barely grazed him, he's fine,” Justin brushes it off. “He should've got a lot worse for what he did to you. I could've stepped in there, too, and I didn't. I'm sorry.”
But Alex is already shaking his head. “I started it,” he shrugs. “You were better friends with Monty than me. It wasn't your fault I was being an idiot.”
“It is though,” Justin stresses.
Alex gives him a questioning look and he continues, “You were acting out because of the tapes. You wanted someone to pay, and all the rest of us were doing was arguing with you. You wanted to make yourself pay when you weren't the one who deserves to.”
I am, Justin thinks. They should've been the ones hitting me.
“I'm on the tapes too,” Alex reminds him, sounding indignant. “I fucked up and I deserve to face the consequences as much as the rest of you.”
“No,” Justin denies bluntly, “you don't.”
Alex looks like he's about to argue, so Justin speaks again before he can. “You did something stupid, yeah. But it's different to the rest of us. I mean, you really think that dumb list is as bad as what Bryce did? As bad as what I did? Don't you think the fact that I'm the only person on there twice is enough to prove that that's complete bullshit?”
His voice cracks slightly. Alex stares at him for a moment before he suddenly moves closer. He wraps his arms tight around Justin's shoulders and presses his face into his shoulder.
Justin clings to him in return as he feels tears prick at his eyes. “I couldn't stop it,” he croaks. “I was scared of losing Bryce's friendship. There wasn't many people that cared about me enough to take me in the way he did, and I didn't know what to do without that. I lost the best thing I had. I wasted my entire relationship with Jess only to lose it at Bryce anyway. I fucked up everything.”
Alex's hand is in his hair, fingers massaging his scalp soothingly. Justin presses his cheek against his temple and breathes, salty wetness streaking down his face freely when Alex presses his lips lightly to the crook of his shoulder.
“Not everything,” he murmurs, lips brushing Justin's skin. “I'm still here.”
Justin lets out a shaky breath at that and holds tighter still. It makes it easier, with Alex's arms around him and his own around Alex, the rise and fall of this boy's chest against his, the feeling of his heart beating with his own.
Alex pulls back, but only enough to lift his head and look at him, no further distance created between the rest of their bodies. With their legs tangled and chests not even an inch apart. He brushes the tears from the senior's cheeks as Justin watches him, breath steadying finally, heart racing now for a different reason, one much lighter than the crushing sadness.
He stares until those blue eyes look back at him, the ones that have always seemed just that bit brighter than his own. Then he leans forward, and presses his lips to Alex's own.
He does no more than that, heart thumping wildly in his chest, until Alex responds and suddenly all the darkness in his thoughts slips away. Alex's mouth is soft under his, kissing him slowly, carefully.
Justin slips his hand up into his bleached hair and runs his tongue over the seam of his lips tentatively. He wants more, his whole being aching for it desperately, but something still making it too scary for him to just take.
But Alex's lips part easily, and he presses closer, his own hands grasping at Justin's neck. Justin's fingers are threaded in his hair, his other hand holding him close, pressed flat against the small of the back. With Alex in his arms like this, kissing him like this, Justin can't remember how it would feel to not want it.
Justin can't tell which one of them it is that pulls away, but he only realises how much he was struggling for breath once they do. Alex's eyes burn into his own, breathing just as heavy.
“I didn't know you were into guys,” is the first thing he says. Honest. Breathless.
The laugh that escapes Justin's lips is surprised, but easy, the terrified thumping of his heart now a happy flutter as Alex smiles and scratches his nails lightly over the hair at Justin's nape. “I didn't know you were.”
Alex rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn't falter. “Yeah right.”
“I'm serious,” Justin laughs again. “I was completely prepared for rejection.”
Alex's brows raise and his smile slips into more of a smirk, tone teasing as he asks, “Justin Foley prepared for rejection? Must be one hell of a guy.”
Justin grins, pulls him in until their noses brush, breath puffing against Alex's lips when he speaks. “The perfect guy.”
“In comparison to pretty low standards,” Alex says flatly.
Justin pokes him in the side.
Alex huffs a breath but smiles again. “Really though. Why did you do that?”
“Because I wanted to,” Justin responds easily. “I really wanted to. I really like you, Standall.”
He accentuates the statement with a nudge of his nose against Alex's. He understands the worry, notices the part of himself that wonders if this is real, or if it's just the feeling he craves, rather than Alex himself.
Then Alex gives him that little smile, and murmurs a quiet, “I like you too. Even if you are an asshole.”
That part of him that doubted dies completely at that smile, and there is no way that it isn't real. It is very much, wholeheartedly Alex that is causing this feeling stirring inside him.
He leans in to kiss him again, and everything that didn't make sense yesterday, all those feelings and urges he didn't understand, now… well, he thinks he gets it.