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Another night in my new skin
Throw emotion to the wind
Just try to find a face
That’ll make me feel something
Justin has accepted it. He’s not gay, he’s still sure of that. He just maybe isn’t entirely straight, either.
Which is fine. Really, it’s whatever. It’s not like he has to do anything with that.
It’s like any urge. Just because it’s there doesn’t mean you have to act on it. He’s a firm believer in this in a lot of areas in his life, tries to convince a lot of people of the same thing, understands it. He can ignore it. He has to ignore it. Acting on it, it just isn’t an option.
He knows a bunch of out kids. Respects all of them. Yeah, Ryan can be kind of an annoying dick but that has nothing to do with his sexuality and everything to do with his tendency to pry into people’s business. Tony kind of scares him and he’s not the guy’s biggest fan but he doesn’t really have any problem with him. He’d always kinda figured with Courtney and thought it was pretty badass when that new girl turned out to be more than just her new friend.
They were all respected in the school, or at least as much as anyone else was. Justin supposes that’s not a great example; but you get the point.
He’s fine with it, and everyone else seems to be. Which makes sense. It’s not a big deal.
But they're…. Well, they’re not Justin. It’s not the same thing.
Justin isn’t the kind of person with a changeable reputation. He’s worked hard to get to where he is, built a perfect image for himself, every piece of the jigsaw carefully constructed.
If a piece changes, the jigsaw’s fucked.
There’s no way you can squeeze it into place to make it look the way it did before. No way to make it fit. It’s left as a jigsaw with a hole in the center, last piece not even missing, but wrong. Left unfinished and incomplete. No one wants that jigsaw.
Justin needs to project the perfect one, needs the comfortable safety of it. Where all the pieces are the right shape in the right place. A small one that’s easily figured out and put together, that anyone wouldn’t really mind taking the time for. Where they knew it would be easy and they wouldn’t be disappointed.
So high up people—people who didn’t spare a lot of time for others that looked like they would need it and not be worth it—people like Bryce Walker—looked at him like he was worthy and good and acceptable. That didn’t mind having the image of him next to their own, because he blended in with it.
A picture of the hot, player jock who kisses the pretty girls with a beer in hand and a smile on his face.
He doesn’t have to act on it, or let anyone know. But he knows, now. This realisation has sunk into his brain and he can’t get rid of it and the pretty girls are a little less important and the smile on his face is a little less real.
So he makes sure the beer in his hand is a little less full and hopes it works out the rest.
He’s gotten used to it. The realisation, the acceptance, the ignorance, and what it has changed. It used to be so easy to fall into whatever the first pretty girl that approached him would offer. Now, it’s a little more difficult. It’s like he actually has to feel something or he doesn’t feel something. Which is annoying and ridiculous, in his opinion.
He’s kind of tired of it. It’s another night at another party in another house, and he’s tired of it. Of all of his friends quickly disappearing with some new friends while he’s still standing in the corner.
He downs some more of his beer and heads out into the crowd. He’s bound to find one pretty face. Something just to make him feel something.
And for all the pretty mouths
And pretty words that turn me out
I still end up at your house
20,000 leagues beneath the ocean
And you make me wanna stay ‘cause you look so good
But I know you, babe, and this can’t wait
Not one more touch, one more drink, one more minute, one more night
He finds some. There’s plenty of pretty girls here. Pretty faces with pretty mouths that press against his own and wrap around pretty words in an attempt to convince him of more. He’s a little drunk, so it should work, but he’s always a little drunk, always, and kissing them somehow just feels boring.
He’s bored. He kind of just wants to leave.
So he does. He pushes his way through the people and out of the house and starts heading down the street.
After the way he felt at the party and with the buzz of the alcohol still thrumming through his veins he’s not surprised where he ends up. Because for all the pretty mouths and pretty words that could try to keep him, he’ll still end up at this house.
Even slightly tipsy, he has no trouble climbing to Alex’s bedroom window. He’s done it enough times that it’s pretty much complete muscle memory. He could use the front door, text Alex to let him in or just knock. It isn’t that late, and his parents aren’t the kind to be in bed early with their job schedules. Justin thinks they like him enough, but a cop and a nurse are both going to be able to tell he isn’t sober.
Alex is sitting on his bed, and he looks up when Justin knocks on the window. He gets up to open it and Justin has to grin at the way he smiles slightly and shakes his head.
“You’re not as drunk this time,” is how he greets him.
“As opposed to when?”
“Last week when you were swaying so much you almost fell back out.”
“Bite me.”
“Maybe if you ask nicely when you’re sober.”
Justin shoves him and pretends he doesn’t trip over his feet with the movement. Alex just smiles wider and retakes his seat on the bed after pulling the window shut. Justin kicks off his shoes and throws himself down next to him, feet just kicking his arm. Alex shoves them away and sticks his tongue out at him before leaning back on his forearms.
Justin doesn’t really pay attention to that, though. His eyes are still trained on Alex’s lips.
“Another party?” Alex questions. Justin hums in response. “Their beds not as comfy?” Justin just shakes his head.
They haven’t talked about it. The incident.
Justin is glad, because he really has no idea what he would say. There’d just been this….something, after. Alex hadn’t approached him. He waited for a couple of days, and the blonde wasn’t ignoring him anymore but he also made exactly zero attempts to actively seek him out.
It should have made sense, because they hadn’t been all that close before. Justin still doesn’t know why it was disappointing.
So he approached Alex. Casually, friendly, and Alex responded the same way. Justin realised he was actually pretty cool and Alex decided he wasn’t actually a dick, and it settled from there. It’s been just over a month. He’s one of the best friends Justin has, now.
A best friend with really, really pretty lips, that Justin can’t forget kissing.
He’s tried to. Honestly, he’s tried really fucking hard to forget and push the whole moment from his mind. But it hasn’t worked.
He remembers it constantly. When he’s kissing someone and their lips part like Alex’s did and it’s his breath. When they let out a noise and it turns into Alex’s voice in his head. When they move against him and it’s Alex he remembers the feel of, shifting under his hands. He’ll get a vivid flash of it, when Alex looks at him. When he touches him. Lips against his or hands in his hair or his own hands gripping hips. It follows him into sleep, when he can’t stop his mind from taking the memory and spiraling it. From making it something softer, hotter, longer, more.
Alex is looking at him, now. There’s a confused little scrunch to his face and the hint of a smile but he doesn’t say anything. Probably because Justin has been lying there dumbly, staring at him. He can’t help it, though. Alex is so nice to stare at. Justin, ridiculously, irrationally, wants to stay and just look at him forever.
Alex always just looks so good. Bleached hair shouldn’t look that soft, should it? It shouldn’t make Justin want to touch, to sift through and smooth down and grip. Stupid, soft, bright blue eyes that he can get lost in. Stupid, sexy septum piercing. Stupid, smiling lips.
Justin’s moving before he realises what he’s doing. He pushes himself up and forward and closer, until he’s on his knees and leaning over Alex, hand sliding up the blonde’s chest, over his shoulder until he’s cupping his neck. He hovers there, looking at him.
Alex is looking back at him curiously, eyes flicking between his, apprehensive. His right arm shifts, hand lifting to graze Justin’s arm where it’s resting against him, touch light and careful. It tilts him towards Justin, now that he’s only leaning on one arm, and that mixed with the touch is driving him crazy.
He lets himself lean closer. Neither of them have said anything, just breathing in each other’s space. There’s a hand, then, just brushing his thigh, where Alex’s arm was apparently in just the right position to hold there. It makes Justin feel encased in him, his right hand still rubbing over his arm and left just resting on his leg. Not doing anything, just touching.
Justin can’t do this. Nothing’s going to make a difference, now, nothing’s going to change it. He doesn’t think anything was ever going to, not after. He’s always going to come back to this, it’s always going to be there in the back of his mind, and he can’t force it away. He doesn’t have the strength to, here, now, in this moment. He can’t.
He doesn’t need anymore encouragement. He doesn’t need another drink, doesn’t need more of Alex’s touch. There’s nothing else left to wait for.
He leans in and presses their lips together gently. There’s nothing for a moment, no movement, Justin’s entire body tense as he keeps the light pressure on Alex’s mouth.
Then Alex presses back, and they’re kissing.
Justin relaxes and he sinks into it immediately. He doesn’t know if it’s the light fuzz on his brain or if it’s the fact that they’re kissing, that he knows this, is in his element here. Except, his brain tells him, it isn’t, that his usual isn’t going around kissing pretty guys. He tells it this isn’t just a guy, this is Alex; this is what he’s been waiting for for so long.
He stops thinking about it when he finds himself incapable of thinking about anything. It’s only Alex—Alex against him, Alex touching him, Alex kissing him, Alex Alex Alex.
Justin shifts his weight to just his knees, freeing his hand to move to Alex’s waist, around to the small of his back. He uses the touch to coax Alex up—something in his stomach thrumming when it makes Alex’s hand shift on his thigh—as his mouth is otherwise occupied.
Alex’s hands move to his hair and how has Justin put this off for so long? It’s closer, but still not close enough, the position awkward with him kneeling and Alex sitting. He makes sure not to detach their lips, isn’t sure what’ll happen when he does, as he lifts a leg over Alex’s lap.
This? This he hasn’t done before. He’s had girls sitting in his lap, yes, but him taking the initiative to straddle someone else? Totally out of his realm of normal, and totally something he’s really fucking enjoying.
Alex’s hips are against his in a position Justin never thought he’d want anyone’s to be in and now understands. Alex’s stomach is against his stomach, chest against his chest, fingers dragging over his scalp.
Justin can’t help but press closer and Alex’s hands fall to grip the backs of his thighs. It’s so much and still not enough. It’s different, to the first time, last time, so different. So much softer and slower and careful. Like they have time, and a privacy they didn’t then.
Alex’s hand trails slowly to the hem of his shirt. It slips under, and Justin feels his fingers lightly brush his skin.
He pulls away abruptly, like the touch pulled him out of a haze. He leans back and forces himself to laugh. He can’t look at Alex’s face. “Shit, sorry. I guess I’m drunker than I thought.”
He can feel Alex’s eyes on him, boring into him. For once, the blonde has no response. Justin makes sure there’s no sign of real emotion on his face before looking at him. Alex averts his own eyes immediately, and Justin’s heart aches. What the hell was he thinking? They don’t do this. He doesn’t do this. It’s not right, and he shouldn’t have, and now things are messed up.
Because now, looking at Alex he wants to cup his face and pepper kisses all over it until he’s smiling again and everything else goes away; and he shouldn’t want that.
So he laughs again, like he doesn’t notice, and tries to ignore the feeling of Alex’s hands that are still resting on his legs. “That was fucking weird. Just forget about it, yeah?”
“Can you get off?” Alex still isn’t looking at him. His hands are now tangled in the bed sheets beside him.
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He slides off his lap, twisting around to sit on the bed next to him.
Alex gets up. He walks towards his closet and tosses Justin a pair of joggers, taking out a pair of his own. Justin gets the hint and changes into them quickly, turning back to Alex. “Are you okay?” Justin asks quietly.
Alex looks at him, fiddling with the sleeves of his jumper. He smiles, and Justin knows there’s no happiness in it. “Yeah, fine.”
“Alex.”
“I mean. Got a free, meaningless make out with Justin Foley that he probably won’t even remember in the morning.”
Justin forces a smile. Forces himself to joke it off. “Pity you will, right?”
Alex’s lips quirk up tiredly. “Pity.”
It hurts—to see him like this and know he’s caused it. He wants to hug him, bury his face in that jumper and tell him he’s wrong. That it’s impossible Justin will forget any of this, that he doesn’t want to.
But a part of him does. Wants to forget all of it, from even before that very first kiss ‘til now, and go back to pretending that part of him doesn’t exist.
The rest of him knows that means he wouldn’t have Alex at all, and he isn’t sure that he’d be able to cope with that. Even if he’d never realised he needed it, some part of him always wanted it and would know to mourn the lost opportunity. At least now, he had the chance. He can blame himself for fucking it up, instead of wondering if there could have been something.
He feels like he needs to say something, even if he can’t say any of that, even if he doesn’t know what else there is. But by the time he opens his mouth, Alex is flicking off the light. He climbs into the bed and settles facing the wall without a word.
Justin chews at his lip, but eventually lays down beside him. He curls on his side, eyes on the back of Alex’s head, and hesitantly mumbles a goodnight.
He doesn’t think he’s going to get a reply, so he rolls over and closes his eyes. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, but the alcohol wipes everything else away and leaves him drowsy enough. Before he can, he hears a quiet, “Night, Justin.”
Now all the shapes I know are gone
Charts and maps I’ve drawn just get me lost
And I’m falling off the edge
Justin doesn’t forget. Of course he doesn’t. He knew he wouldn’t, but he isn’t prepared to remember it in such vivid detail. If the alcohol did anything, it was only enhance the feelings, burned the memory of them onto his skin like a brand. He’s sure everyone can see it.
It’s like everything he thought he knew is gone. His mind is constantly swirling in its attempt to keep up with the shift, with the change in Justin’s whole structure. After the first time, he was still able to pretend. He functioned just as he always had, just with this underlying newness inside him, this inner stirring he could hide. It wasn’t anything real; just this one thing that had happened, that gave him these weird feelings he would eventually get over. It was just a blip.
The first time had caused a tremor. That night had launched a full on earthquake.
It shook right to Justin’s core and caused all his safe houses to crumble. All the things inside him seem to be out of order, in the wrong place. The image he’d so carefully constructed for himself no longer fits his shape, and trying to squeeze himself into the space hurts. It presses in on him, too tight, bruising and crushing. But he’s pushed himself too far in to be able to get back out.
He’d had it all planned. He had it mapped out, this clear path through high school and out, out of his house and this town. He would have all the right contacts, he would get a sports scholarship, he could make it. He would get a girlfriend, one he loved that loved him back, that he could actually build a life with.
This has never been part of his plan. Rationally, he tells himself it isn’t much of a difference. But it feels huge. It feels like this monumental thing that is too big for him to hold in, that’s going to push until it makes him burst from the inside. It’s terrifying, the thought of keeping it inside him, but it seems much more dangerous to let it out.
It’s thrown him completely off course, and he’s lost. It’s like there’s a new map in his head, and every single road leads to Alex Standall.
He feels like everyone can see it. As if it really is branded on his skin, a permanent mark that’s there for everyone to see, evidence of what he did. It’s all he sees when he looks at himself. He keeps trying to pretend it doesn’t exist, outwardly, and knows realistically that it isn’t a visible shift but can’t help always thinking it is anyway. Someone looks at him and he’s sure they can see it.
It makes him push it away more.
He isn’t surprised at himself for lying about it. When Bryce asked him where he’d disappeared to, he’d lied. He knows he didn’t really have to—he’s stayed with Alex plenty of times, this wouldn’t be any different. Except it was, very different, and he was sure he’d give all of it away if he tried to give anything. So he lied—said he’d found a girl, had gone off somewhere with her, hardly remembers it but doesn’t think he knows her anyway. Definitely doesn’t; she doesn’t exist.
He hates himself a little, for the lie slipping out so easily and for what it is. There’s nothing wrong with liking the same sex, he’s always fully taken that stance, it isn’t something he considers shameful. So why does he feel ashamed?
Why is he so scared?
There’s plenty of people that aren’t gay, but have some feelings, some moments, aren’t there? Some attraction. It’s a common enough thing, even, to experiment around now isn’t it? Girls do that sometimes, don’t they? A kiss between friends, just to try it. Just to see what it’s like.
But he and Alex weren’t friends the first time, not really. And it had been a ‘first time’; it wasn’t a one off, wasn’t just a bit of fun experimentation. Justin had done it to prove a point, that was all. That he was absolutely not gay, Standall, thank you very much, but he had absolutely no problem with the idea of it.
Obviously, that backfired and exploded right in his face.
It was, looking back, the worst idea he’s ever had. He didn’t prove any kind of point to Alex—other than he’s a fucking amazing kisser, but he’s sure Alex knew that anyway—and he messed up his own head more than it already had been. He thinks he’d been trying to prove a point to himself, too. That what he’d been feeling before that, the things that kept popping into his head, weren’t real. That it was just a momentary lapse, some idea put in his head that would eventually leave again, as if it had never been there. That it was just a notion, and acting on it wouldn’t affect him.
He was quite affected.
He managed that, though. Grew used to it and tamped it down until it was invisible, until he could mostly ignore it. Alex became his friend, and that was good, that was enough. He’d accepted that he had a slight attraction, maybe, and it wasn’t a big deal.
He figured all that out. Had cleared it up in his mind. The panic mode was over.
Then he did it again.
The first kiss had set him on the edge of a cliff, and he had the choice to either take a step back, or fall. The second one was the equivalent of him diving off the edge, ignoring that it meant he was eventually going to hit the ground—hard.
Alex had already been stuck in his head. It’s what had lead to that, why Justin couldn’t stop himself even when he knew he should have. At the time, there was nothing telling him to stop. Everything in him was only screaming that he wanted it, that it would be good, then only that it was right. It had hit him with a sudden clarity in the moment, just how right it felt. He still doesn’t know how it had switched so quickly, like a button had been flicked and it was suddenly the opposite, that what he was doing was wrong, so wrong all wrong and he has to stop.
It’s completely engraved Alex in his mind. The first kiss had given his mind enough to run away with, really. For as innocent as it had been, his mind had frequent taken it to a place where it wasn’t so. It had been hard enough to hide, but he’d managed. Then the second one happened, and it was so much more. He’d sat in Alex’s goddamn lap, and Jesus he’d enjoyed it. There was no way of forgetting it, of pushing any of that out of his mind. Of Alex under him, against him, touching him, holding him, kissing him. He’d had Alex’s hands on his thighs, on his bare skin, and after days every place he’d touched is still tingling. He tried so hard to pretend otherwise, to pretend he was unaffected and unbothered, like it really had been a drunken mistake. Heck, for all Alex knows he did forget, and no one else knows anything at all. But the absolute fear in his mind is telling him they do, they all know, you think they can’t see it? So he hides, and he knows it isn’t working, it isn’t enough.
Now, his panic mode has returned full force, heightened ten times over. Because he’s sure they all know. Because he’s definitely sure Alex knows.
He’s lucky there, really. Alex, once again, hasn’t mentioned it. He hasn’t been even slightly off around Justin, has acted completely normal and brushed the incident off like it had never happened. Which, Justin doesn’t understand how to do. He tells himself there’s a possibility Alex is just better at hiding it. He thinks, though, if their positions were switched, he’d be pissed, and it makes him hate himself more. Because Alex has every right to be mad at him, and he isn’t. He’s being as kind to Justin as he’s always been, and it’s breaking his fucking heart.
Still, though. That isn’t enough, either.
And you make me wanna change with the look on your face
‘Cause I miss you, babe, but I can’t stay
Not one more kiss not one more fix not one more minute, one more night
He wants it to be. This part of him that still feels like it was only right, all of it, that just wants it again and again and so forces it to happen that way in his mind. When he looks at Alex, when Alex doesn’t see.
It’s only ever then that Justin can attempt to get a glimpse of what he’s really feeling. When Alex turns away from him, and he can see the pain, the hurt making his clear blue eyes stormy, the hurt that Justin’s caused. That he keeps causing. That reminds him, as much as Alex acts like it, it’s not nothing.
It’s not nothing for Justin, either. It’s too much.
He isn’t gay. He doesn’t feel like he’s anything else either; thinking words like bi don’t click in his mind, don’t give him this huge revelation. He’s done the research, the extensive googling caused during the initial panic, where most people probably start to feel like they’ve got it. He doesn’t. None of it feels like him, any goddamn sexuality or story he can find.
He’s never liked boys. He doesn’t have some thing for abs and biceps and whatever else is supposed to be attractive about them, has never had a crush on some buff Chris or a Harry Potter. He has always, always liked girls and the curves and softness he associates with them. Has never fantasized about a ‘strong man’ that could take care of him or some bullshit like that.
But Alex Standall is strong and soft and everything in between and he’s fucking with Justin’s head.
Maybe it’s because of Alex’s softness. Bryce and Co. have said before that Alex is more feminine than anything, right? It’s not always the exact language they use, but it’s the general gist. Maybe Justin is just into Alex ‘cause he almost thinks of him as a girl.
He feels like an asshole for just thinking that, even more so when a part of him wants to cling to the idea. He knows that isn’t it, because he’s never once thought of Alex as a girl, has told Bryce and the others how fucking stupid they were being when they made comments like it about him.
He just can’t come up with any explanation at all, only Alex Alex Alex and it’s driving him insane.
It’s only Alex.
He’s never been attracted to guys, and he still isn’t. He doesn’t feel any different now towards other men, hasn’t gone through a drastic change, hasn’t had the big revelation. There’s nothing different. Only Alex.
Maybe it was just because the idea had been put in his head. When Alex confronted him, some part of Justin had taken it and made him think it could be true. What if he was attracted to Alex?
It’s just a glitch in his head. Just a momentary problem, a fuck up that could be fixed.
It’s just Alex.
If Alex wasn’t in the picture, there wouldn’t be any problem. Right?
It’s kinda fucked that he’s thinking about this while lying in Alex’s bed, but he’s weak. And confused. So, so confused. They’re actually having a good time, and Alex is laughing and he looks so beautiful and genuinely happy and Justin’s heart is doing something in his chest. It’s familiar, and wrong, and unfair. So unfair.
He wants to not feel that way. He wants to not have to keep his jock image and his friendships and be able to give Alex what he deserves. He wants to be able to change, to do whatever he can to keep that look on Alex’s face. He wants to.
He can’t.
The laughter’s died down, but Alex still has a little smile on his face, and Justin hates himself for the words that come out of his mouth. “I don’t think I should stay here anymore.”
Alex looks up at him from where he’d been picking at the blankets, brow furrowing. A different little laugh bubbles from his lips. “What?”
“I shouldn’t stay here so much. Or. At all.”
“Why?” Alex’s voice is quiet.
Justin shrugs. He stays silent—he doesn’t know what answer to give. He doesn’t have any reasons that he can give Alex, doesn’t know how to even going about putting any of the shit in his head into words. Not in a way that would come out right. He can’t say, ‘well, you’re kind of massively freak me out, because I want to kiss you and I don’t understand why and it’s really fucked up’. Alex doesn’t have a problem with it; he won’t understand. He’d just get mad.
“I don’t mind having you here,” Alex tries. “If that’s the problem.”
“It’s not.”
Alex purses his lips. “Okay. Then what is?”
Justin sits up, then stands. He’s panicking again, thinking too much, and it’s making him irritated and he knows it’s showing on his face. “Maybe I just don’t wanna be here, is that so fucking hard to believe?”
“Okay, asshole, no one’s making you stay.” Alex is pissed now, too. Of course he is. That’s how he gets when he’s hurt.
Justin knows he’s right, and there’s no reason for him to feel the twinge of pain in his own chest. He’s bringing this on himself—why does he feel hurt by it?
Because he wants to stay. He wants to stay, and he wants Alex to want him to. To ask him to. He feels horrible about it, because he knows if Alex did ask he would have to say no. Alex has become an addiction to him, that’s it, and staying so close is constantly making him crave another fix. He’s thought that maybe that’s the answer, too, that he just wants the affection and Alex is so willing to give it. An available fix, an easy hit.
He wants to stay. He wants to change the expression on Alex’s face back to a happier one. He wants to kiss him.
But he can’t. If he allows himself even one more, he genuinely thinks it’ll break him.
“I guess I’ll go, then.”
He doesn’t expect Alex to argue. Alex is stubborn, and Justin has already hurt him—there’s no reason he’d want him to stay. So he’s a little surprised when Alex deflates, when he drops his gaze and the tone of his voice. “You don’t have to,” he says quietly. “It’s not—it doesn’t have to be like that. You don’t have to.”
God, Justin can’t do this. His mind is so loud; has it always been that way? He’s sure it hasn’t. “Yeah, Standall. I do.”
Alex doesn’t say anything else this time, as Justin climbs through the window.
He can’t stay. He misses him already.
I’ll still try to keep my distance
Keep my distance
When I speak will you listen?
He’s trying his hardest to keep his distance.
He knew, at the beginning, that he wasn’t just giving up Alex’s house. He had to give up Alex completely. He was the cause of all the mess in Justin’s head, and getting rid of him would get rid of it. It he wasn’t seeing Alex, he wouldn’t feel the weird attraction to him. It was that simple.
Except it so isn’t, and this time Justin really is going insane.
He hasn’t stopped thinking about it. It isn’t only when he sees him in school, or when someone mentions his name. It’s always. When he’s sitting in class. When he’s hanging out with the others. When someone’s talking to him. When he’s eating. When he’s playing basketball. When he’s showering. When he’s drunk. When he’s high. When he’s trying to sleep. When he is sleeping.
As long as he’s breathing, he’s thinking about him. At this point, he’s sure that isn’t even a necessary factor. He’d still think about Alex if he was dying.
He thought being away from Alex would get rid of this fucked up attraction. He didn’t think about how damn much he’d miss him. In all Justin’s panic, he hadn’t realised—it was never just physical attraction with Alex. That part had just been more obvious. Justin hadn’t been able to stop reliving that first kiss; the way Alex kissed him, how soft his lips were, how he felt under Justin’s hands, moving against him, touching him, the sounds he made, how he looked right after. It drove Justin insane, how he could almost feel it constantly, especially when he looked at Alex, and it was impossible not to realise he was attracted to him. All he had to do was look.
He didn’t realise how much he cares about Alex. It was less obvious, wasn’t shoved in his face as much, because it was simply written off as friendship. Justin just thought the separation would make the thoughts go away, would let him go back to normal, and maybe then he could approach Alex again. He didn’t think it would feel like his heart was being shredded in his chest.
He didn’t think about how much he would miss him.
He feels heartbroken, and it’s ridiculous and impossible and painful and true. It terrifies him, thinking of it as something more than a confusing, fake attraction, something with actual feelings.
He doesn’t know if that makes the whole thing more gay or not, but he’s still sure he isn’t.
But he’s also becoming more and more sure he has beyond-platonic feelings for Alex.
Meanwhile, Alex seems to have gotten over it completely. He didn’t even approach Justin at the beginning; Justin hasn’t even had to try to ignore him, because he hasn’t been there. He knows that should make him feel better, that Alex is okay, but it just makes it hurt more. Like he’s entirely alone in his suffering that he still doesn’t even understand.
He still tries to keep his distance, because Alex is happy; and he finds himself caring about Alex’s happiness more than anything.
This part of him—stupid or hopeful or some stupidly hopeful mix—keeps saying that maybe Alex isn’t. That Alex is very good at pretending, and Justin isn’t close enough now to find the giveaways. That maybe, Alex is hurting just as much as he is. He’s just hiding it too.
He’s sure he can’t just be perfectly fine. Alex is—was—his best friend, and that relationship was entirely mutual. Alex has to at least miss him in that sense. Doesn’t he?
Justin should be glad if he doesn’t, should be happy with the clean break, it was exactly what he wanted. But God, he misses Alex so much. It hurts to think that Alex doesn’t return the sentiment, was probably glad to see him go. He hates thinking about it.
He knows he was an idiot, now, but he hasn’t settled. He still feels panicked, is still confused about what the hell this all is, is still desperately trying to ignore it. But he knows now how much his life sucks without Alex, and he wishes he had done anything differently.
In all his panicking caused by the boy, he’s realised that Alex was his main source of peace. As much as it sends his brain and heart into overdrive, being in Alex’s presence makes him calm. He panicked at the time because everything he was feeling was screaming at him, but it was so much quieter then than it is now.
He’s been staying at Bryce’s. He doesn’t want to, he can’t stand it, and as he’s sitting there alone there’s nothing he wants more than to be with Alex. He doesn’t understand why he has this goddamn feeling, but it’s one that’s so strong it’s consuming him, and he can’t take it.
Because he knows, in all of this, that Alex would understand. That he’d get it even where Justin doesn’t, and he’d make it easier just with his easy reaction, and why the hell didn’t Justin just talk to him?
He’s just so scared. He’s scared that, because he doesn’t understand, he wouldn’t be able to put it into words. That he would say the wrong ones. He’s scared that the other thoughts are right, that none of it’s even real and he’s just confused and telling Alex would only mean hurting him when it goes away. He’s scared that Alex actually won’t understand. That he’ll just be mad at Justin, for not understanding himself or seemingly having a problem with it, for kissing him and running away, for kissing him at all. For being a general fucking idiot.
He’s scared, mostly, that it’s too late.
He’s hit with the sudden severe urge to find out. He doesn’t have to tell Bryce, doesn’t even think about it, just gets up and grabs his bag and goes. He doesn’t know where he’s going to end up, but he doesn’t think he wants to come back here.
He might be getting a little hopeful.
Still, he stashes his bag at the side of the house, trying his best to hide it a little. He doesn’t want it to make any implications, to give Alex any wrong ideas. He doesn’t expect anything, it isn’t why he’s here. He just needs to do this.
He climbs the tree, and he’s at Alex’s window. The lights are on, of course they are, and Alex is in there. Justin’s heart jumps, and he lifts his hand and knocks.
Alex’s head swivels to look at him, and his expression is completely blank. Justin doesn’t even catch it falter for a split second, and it makes his nerves churn even more. He keeps his own expression sincere—probably pleading—and there’s a few beats before Alex gets up and opens the window.
Justin clambers in quickly, pulling the window shut behind him before turning to look at Alex. It’s a strange feeling, the atmosphere all wrong. It’s not the usual immediate comfort it was for them. It’s quiet and stifling and downright depressing.
“What do you want?” Alex asks, still with the blank expression.
Justin bites his lip. “I-I wanna talk.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “What, you wanna make sure I’m not going to say anything? I haven’t, so I think you should feel safe enough.”
“I…what?” Say anything…about the kiss? Kisses. That’s what Alex means isn’t it? Strangely, the thought hadn’t even crossed Justin’s mind. It only hits him now, that Alex very easily could have said something, to anyone. Justin probably would have deserved it. But, he didn’t. Alex didn’t say anything, and is basically confirming that he won’t anytime in the future either. Because it’s Alex, and he wouldn’t.
Justin’s heart aches a little more.
Alex rolls his eyes again, and even at his expense Justin has fucking missed it. “It’s not like anyone would believe me over you. I already know that, I don’t need threatening.”
“What? Alex, I—that’s not why I’m here. Why would you think that? I’d never threaten you. You really think I’d do that?” It hurts, that he would. That they’ve regressed to that point, where that’s all Alex thinks of him. That he’s just the jerk worried about nothing other than his reputation.
He supposes it’s not wrong.
The question’s ignored, Alex’s brows furrowing. Annoyed confusion. “Why are you here, then?”
Justin swallows. “I just wanted to talk.” He wants to explain. He wants to tell the truth, whatever that is. He kind of wants Alex to help him figure it out.
But when he tries to talk now, will Alex even listen?
So send me back a thousand days
That first night at your old place
And tell me how it ends
I’d do it all again
For one more minute, one more night
If all that I could ever be
If all that I could ever be
Was the best ex-lover of your life
“Then talk,” Alex crosses his arms.
Justin’s throat feels tight, and after all his urgency to do this, he has to force the words out. “Okay, first, I’m sorry.” Alex scoffs. “I know, okay, I know. I’m an asshole. I didn’t—it was a mistake.”
Alex makes a face. “You really had to come here just to tell me that? Well, thanks, but I already got that message—”
“No, Alex, it’s not,” Justin groans. He takes a few steps towards him. “What happened—that wasn’t a mistake. I, I definitely meant that. And I—as much as I thought I would, I wouldn’t take it back. That night I left, that was the mistake.”
Justin watches Alex’s face as he processes this. It doesn’t change much, remains in some kind of thoughtful expression. “Okay. So, why did you leave?”
“I guess…I panicked. I didn’t understand what, what I was feeling and what was happening and I still don’t. I thought that it—it was your fault, that it was just all in my head and if I got away from it it would stop.”
Alex’s expression turns a little sympathetic. “I’m guessing it didn’t work?”
Justin shakes his head, shoulders sagging. “I just fucking miss you a lot,” he whispers.
That definitely softens Alex some. He bites at his lip, arms falling to his stomach. “I don’t get what you want, Justin.”
“I didn’t, either. I thought I wanted it all to go away. That I wanted to take it back. I was freaking out, and then I realised that was wrong and it freaked me out more. Because if I could go back to that first time I kissed you and you told me it would end up like this, I would do it again. I would do it just to get the chance of spending just one more night with you. Jesus, if all I got was another minute with you, I’d go right back to there, and I wouldn’t change it. I would do all of it again, knowing.”
He means it. It terrifies him, but he means it. He’s fucked it up a lot, but the thought of it having been different isn’t any better. It just makes him think that he never would have had Alex at all, and he could never wish for that. If he was told from that first moment that he would end up here, he wouldn’t stop it. Nothing would have stopped him from kissing Alex that day, or that night, other than Alex himself. Which, Justin bets, was always unlikely. Alex had always been willing to take what Justin was willing to give, and he thinks they’re both just upset it wasn’t more.
He thought, too, that he just wanted Alex to be happy. And he does, God, he wants that more than anything, but he wants it to be with him. He wants, ridiculously, to have ruined Alex for everyone else. He wants to make it impossible for Alex to find anyone he thinks is better, because Justin will always have been the best.
It’s selfish and irrational and impossible, but that’s what he wants.
He wants Alex to never want anyone else. To never have to, because he’ll always have Justin.
He just wants Alex. So he tells him.
So I surrender
This is the moment I surrender
Even now, let it in
Oh lord, I surrender
“It flipped from wanting all of it to stop to just wanting you.” Alex’s lips part soundlessly. “So, I surrender, okay? That’s why I’m here. I can’t stay away. I—I think I’m falling in love with you.”
“Justin,” Alex breathes.
“I’m not gay,” he ploughs on. “And I’m not—I don’t think I’m bi, or pan, or anything, I don’t know what I am, other than really fucking into you, Standall. Maybe I’m just Alexsexual or something because the only thing I can think about is you and it’s driving me fucking insane so this is it, okay? This moment, this is me surrendering. I’m giving into all of it, alright? This is me accepting it. You…you just need to accept me.”
Alex’s expression still doesn’t shift. He’s sure, though, that his eyes have. They’ve brightened and softened and opened, letting him in again.
He holds his breath as Alex approaches him slowly. Alex’s hands settle on his neck carefully, and Justin keeps looking at him, silently pleading. It’s only when Alex’s thumb brushes over his cheek that his eyes flutter closed.
Lips press hesitantly against his, and he’s gone.
He kisses back without a thought; his mind’s buzzing so loudly any thinking is impossible. It’s just Alex, Alex, Alex, and this time, he’s here. This time he isn’t trying to get away from it, from his brain, doesn’t need to, because this time it is Alex and he shuts it down immediately. In the presence of this boy, how could he possibly think about anything else?
His hands find their place on Alex’s back naturally, pulling him that bit closer as Alex slides a hand into his hair. It’s so reminiscent of their first kiss yet so different. It’s soft and warm and consuming without the fear and danger and panic. Justin isn’t going to come out of this thinking it was a mistake. The voice in his head telling him it’s wrong is still there, and he pushes it away.
This feels too right to be wrong.
He almost has Alex memorised by now; knows the feel of Alex’s movements under his hands, knows the feel of Alex’s hands on him, knows his sounds, his breaths, knows exactly when and how to lick into his mouth. He feels Alex smile, and God, the amount of time he could’ve spent doing this.
It’s different, too, from their first kiss, because Alex kissed him. Alex made the move, and Justin let him. He wanted him to, and he never wants him to stop. He’s already breathless, though, but he knows he wants him to do it again, and again, and again.
Alex pulls away, taking in a harsh breath of his own before he starts laughing. Justin stares for a minute—and fuck, Alex is so beautiful—then joins him. He wants to just pull him in and kiss him again, but he resists. He senses Alex wants to talk, now, and everything else can wait.
Alex leans against him, foreheads pressed together as he breathes in short gasps before it evens out. Justin gazes at him openly as he stares back in wonder. “You said you’re falling in love with me.”
Justin blinks. He realises, suddenly, that he had, and his heart does something really weird in his chest. It slipped out without him even thinking about it, so he takes a minute to now. He knew he was having some really strong feelings but…falling in love? Is that what he’s doing?
He thinks about everything that’s happened from that first kiss until now, and looks at Alex, and realises he is.
“Yeah,” the word comes out on a breath. “I—Yeah, I think I am. Uhm—is that okay?”
Alex laughs again. “That is,” he kisses him quickly, “so much more than okay. Jesus, Justin. I’ve been falling for you since I saw you.”
“How could you not?” Justin grins, pure reflex. The only reason his heart jumps is because Alex does that fond roll of his eyes in response. Not out of panic, or fear, or discomfort. He could never be uncomfortable with Alex.
He’s never scared.
Alex moves back just a little, enough for them to see each other better but not disconnect. “Have you been freaking out this whole time?”
“I…yeah,” Justin admits sheepishly. “Even while I was kissing you that first time I—I knew it was going to happen. Jesus, even before I did it I couldn’t get you out of my head. I kind of did it just to prove a point, and I guess it did, it just really wasn’t the one I was going for. I was trying to somehow prove I wasn’t gay and I just proved I’m….not straight.”
“You’re Alexsexual,” Alex muses, wearing a wide grin, and oh god Justin said that too.
“How could anyone not be?” Is all he retorts, and is rewarded with Alex shaking his head, blushing lightly. It’s his new favourite sight. “It’s true, though. I just….I couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was scaring me, and I wanted to just get away from it. But then after I left it just got worse.”
Alex bites his lip, and if he wants to keep talking he’s really going to have to stop doing that. “You could’ve talked to me. I wouldn’t have been mad, or anything.”
“I didn’t even know what to say,” Justin says hoarsely. “I didn’t understand, and I couldn’t—I couldn’t,” he cuts off and Alex pulls him into him, hugging him firmly.
“I’m sorry. I never should have pushed you the first time.”
Justin tucks his head into the boy’s neck, shaking his head. If Alex hadn’t approached him then, would he be in Justin’s life at all? Justin didn’t want that. It was the last thing he wanted. He dreaded even thinking about it. On the opposite side…would it have even stopped Justin from falling for him?
At this point, he’s not sure it would.
He definitely doesn’t blame Alex for anything. He doesn’t know what could have been different, but he’s too happy in this moment to even want to. He thought everything slipped away when Alex kissed him, but he feels it now, all of the stress and fear sliding off his shoulders and falling away. Standing here, hugging Alex, he’s safe—without having to hide.
“I’m the only one who should be sorry. Being scared didn’t mean I had to be a dick. I didn’t want to be that guy that was using you and trying to hide it, but I—I didn’t even know what I was hiding and I still don’t understand it and I don’t know how I’m supposed to—to tell people and—“
“Woah, Justin, breathe,” Alex moves back again, gripping his shoulders and looking at him. “Hey. I get it. Okay? You don’t have to apologise. You could have handled it a lot worse. Do you know that?” He waits until Justin nods slightly. “Okay. Justin, I don’t want you to tell people.”
“You….what? Why not?” Alex…wants to keep them a secret? Justin feels a sudden pang of hurt. He feels like he’s waiting for Alex to start laughing in his face, to say ‘obviously, why would I want anyone to think I was with you?’ It makes him shy away, retreating slightly from Alex’s grip, but it only tightens on his shoulders.
“No, I—obviously I want people to know, but I don’t expect you to just announce it to everyone. That was never what I wanted. I just wanted you to admit it to yourself. Even that was…pushing a little, and I didn’t think you ever would. I’m really proud of you just for this. I don’t—I don’t need you to go around telling everyone. I don’t expect you to do that.”
That, doesn’t actually make Justin feel any better. Maybe he’s still panicking a little. “I don’t want it to be like, like I’m hiding you. I’m not ashamed of you. I shouldn’t have to—to lie. You’re out and it doesn’t scare you, you have it all figured out and I just—” He just…he doesn’t even know. He’s just scared and confused still and Alex deserves so much better than this, than him, and why isn’t he saying so?
“Justin,” Alex laughs a little. “I don’t ‘have it all figured out’, or whatever. Of course it scares me. It’ll always fucking scare me, and it sucks. Yeah, my family’s cool with it. Yeah, I’m out at school, but it’s still terrifying sometimes. Someone looks at me weird and suddenly I’m preparing myself for a blow, that thankfully hasn’t come yet. In a way it gets a little less scary, when you actually get it out. I think it’s because you’re not hiding anymore—you’re not constantly freaking out about people finding out, because they already know. But actually coming out? It’s difficult as shit. I’d never expect anyone to just, do that. Coming out as bi, some people don’t even understand what is it. Or they don’t understand it right. Coming out and not even having anything to come out as? I don’t want you to—no, wait. I don’t want you to do that for me. Do you understand?”
Justin absorbs this, chest loosening as he nods and Alex hands drop down to take his. “It just…it makes me feel stupid, not knowing. Like I’m already doing it wrong.”
Alex laughs again, gentle. “You can’t do it wrong. You’re not stupid. It’s all, complicated. You don’t have to figure it out at all. It’s okay to just be Justin.”
Justin turns that over in his head. “Just Justin,” he repeats.
Alex nods, giving him a soft smile. “I like him enough.”
At that, Justin smiles slightly. “I just feel like I’m…behind, or something. Like I should have already known, I shouldn’t have needed to be pushed. Like I’m…im faking, like it isn’t real or it’s just some kind of phase.”
“Does it feel like a phase?” Alex asks quietly.
Justin doesn’t know. The only real thing he feels is his feelings for Alex. Which, he thinks, have proven they won’t just go away. “No. With how I feel about you…it doesn’t feel like a phase.”
Alex smiles, and it’s soft and bright and relieved and God, Justin is so gone on him. Alex tugs on his hands, letting go and climbing onto his bed. He sits cross-legged and pats the space in front of him. Justin toes off his shoes and joins him, matching his pose as he faces him.
“It doesn’t make you less valid for figuring it out later,” Alex says. “Like, you see those guys that get married and then realize they’re gay. That’s in a bunch of stuff right, with characters finding out their dads are gay?”
Justin nods. “Like in Baby Daddy.”
Alex points at him. “Right. You’re not invalidated because you didn’t come out of the womb in a rainbow blanket. Everyone’s different, this takes time for lots of people. You’re just as valid as everyone else, Justin. Not figuring it out right away doesn’t make you fake.”
“A rainbow blanket?” Justin’s lip quirks. Alex rolls his eyes, shrugging and nudging him with his foot. “No one really knows that right away, do they?”
Alex shrugs again. “Ryan claims he was ‘born fabulous’, but I don’t know.”
Justin laughs, feeling himself genuinely relax for the first time in weeks. His mind’s not entirely settled, but it’s calmed down considerably. It isn’t as loud as it had been. Alex makes it sound okay, the whole thing. Like Justin’s not as messed up as he thought he was—like just because he’s not the exact same as Alex, doesn’t mean he’s not included. There’s plenty of others that share similarities with the both of them, and Justin doesn’t have to fit any specific description. He can just be Justin. Justin just likes Alex.
“You’re calmer now,” Alex notes. “You feel better?”
“Yeah,” Justin smiles a little. “Thank you.”
Alex smiles back, reaching out to squeeze Justin’s legs. “Good. You know you can talk to me whenever you need to, right? About anything. I’m always going to be here. Even if you think it’s stupid, or wrong, or anything, I won’t judge you. And you don’t have to do anything for me—I’m not waiting for you to come out, or expecting you to do things. We can just, take our time and figure it out, okay?”
“Okay,” Justin breathes, resting his hands over the other’s.
“Okay. But that doesn’t mean if you start being a dick I’m just going to sit back and accept it.”
“Good,” Justin straightens, agreeing immediately. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, Alex. If I am, call me the fuck out. Always. I think—I think that’s what I’m most scared of. That I’ll…I’ll fuck this up. With you. I’m gonna be really confused and I’ll probably do everything wrong and I know you deserve someone better, and you could definitely get someone better because, you’re beautiful.”
Alex blushes again, and that hadn’t even been Justin’s intention but he’s grateful for it. It’s fucking adorable. “Okay, come on, have you looked at yourself? I could do better?” Alex shakes his head, leaning back into the pillows. “I can’t even believe this is happening.”
Justin mimics the gesture, shrugging a little. “I can’t believe it either.”
“Are you,” Alex hesitates, “are you sure you really…want this? Me, I mean.”
Justin blinks. Is that a serious question? “Alex,” he says seriously, “I’ve never been more sure of anything. I can’t promise I’ll be any good at it, because I have no idea what I’m doing, but I want to be with you, Standall.” Then, “Do…do you want that?”
“Is that a serious question? I’ve wanted this since freshman year.” Justin grins. “And you don’t have to worry about not being ‘good at it’. I mean, the basics aren’t really any different and you’ll figure the rest out.” Alex nudges him with his foot again. “I’ll teach you.”
Justin’s grin widens, and the corners of Alex’s mouth pull up to match it. Alex gives a tug at Justin’s jeans, splaying his legs out either side of him. It leaves the perfect space for Justin to settle between them, but he kneels over him instead, knees outside his hips, and Alex adjusts to accommodate him. Justin settles on his lap, and Alex wraps his arms around him as Justin tips their heads together. “Hey.”
Alex huffs out a breath. “Hey,” he murmurs. “You’d really think you’d be shier, but I’m honestly not surprised.”
“I’m waiting for you to teach me,” Justin teases, bumping their noses. Alex smiles, tilting his chin up and ever so lightly brushing his lips over Justin’s. Justin makes a noise and Alex laughs, but kisses him properly.
Justin kisses back, and this is the first time he feels a little hesitant. He’s never been unsure of his kissing skills, and he still isn’t really, but he’s been hit with the sudden realisation that he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t actually know how to go beyond this, or where they go from here, or what happens now. It’s the first time he’s been able to think at all when Alex is kissing him and of course it’s because he’s having another mental breakdown.
Alex notices, because he pulls back with furrowed brows, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “Hey, you okay?” Justin breathes for a minute, looking at him. He closes his eyes and focuses on the touch at his face, then looks at him again. He nods. Alex doesn’t seem entirely convinced, and rests his head against Justin’s gently. They sit for a minute, and Justin feels the buzz of his mind start up again, his shoulders tensing. Alex’s thumb brushes over his cheekbone rhythmically, and he leans even closer, until their mouths are only separated by the breath between them. “Come back,” he coaxes softly.
He presses his lips to Justin’s again, carefully, until Justin presses back. Then it’s familiar, Alex’s hand on his cheek grounding while the other grips at the corner of his hip and he’s gone again. But it’s the good way, this time. The one that made him want to come back that first time, and has him coming back since. That pushes everything from his mind but Alex, but kissing him.
Alex doesn’t do anything more than move his lips gently, being so careful, too careful. So Justin parts his lips first, calmly, trying to convey that this is okay, more than okay, that this isn’t what he worried about. There’s still hesitance in the way Alex meets him, so Justin urges him on with a light tug to his hair, teases him as much as he’s able with just his mouth until Alex is tightening his grip and pressing against him and teasing back.
They part for the shortest of breaths when they need them and immediately reconnect. Justin’s hands shift through Alex’s hair, cup his face and neck, grip his shoulders. Alex’s have barely shifted, the one moving from his cheek to the back of his neck and the other on his hip not moving at all. Until it does, just slightly, to toy with the hem of Justin’s shirt.
Alex stops there, waiting, and it’s unsurprising because Justin stiffens. He doesn’t mean to, but he does, a knee-jerk reaction. He doesn’t want to. He wants Alex to touch him.
He relaxes, kisses him more insistently, and Alex’s hand slips under. His fingers brush over Justin’s stomach, making him shiver, before sliding around to his back and splaying there, pressing lightly against the skin. Justin gasps quietly, just a hitched breath, arching into the touch. Alex seems encouraged by this, less shy about licking into Justin’s mouth as he traces patterns over his back.
This is where Justin had run, last time. Now, he can’t comprehend ever wanting to run from this. It had made him feel wrong, dirty, like he was doing something he wasn’t supposed to and he had to stop. Because it didn’t feel wrong. He’d wanted it then, too, as much as he does now. Except this time, he’s letting himself have it.
Alex is so willing to give.
Justin can only try his best to give the same back, and it appears to be going okay, if the way Alex is starting to lose a little of his tight control is any indication. His movements are a little more sloppy and a little less careful, and Justin knows he’s not much better, chest burning with the lack of breath.
It’s the only thing that can make them part—forces them to. Justin’s eyes flutter open as Alex leans back, taking panting, gasping little breaths that match his own. “You definitely don’t need any lessons in that,” Alex breathes, and Justin laughs before taking him in. His face is flushed, lips shiny and swollen, eyes glittering. His fingers are still dancing idly over Justin’s back. Justin doesn’t understand how he was ever able to run from this. From him.
Alex is smiling, and Justin raises a brow. “You’re staring,” Alex tells him.
Justin realises he was, isn’t bothered enough now to be flustered by it. He grins broadly, shrugging. “Just enjoying the view.”
He gets a beautiful result, Alex blushing instantly and—disappointingly—taking his hands off Justin to cover his face. “You’re an asshole,” is what he mutters from behind them. Justin laughs, trying to tug his hands down as he demands to know how. “You can’t come out of nowhere and do this to me! You’re too hot, it’s not fair.” Alex is laughing, too, as Justin wrestles with his hands, and Justin’s heart is so happy. It gives an extra little flutter at the compliment, a rush of warmth running through him. Beautiful Alex Standall, thinks he’s hot.
Alex stops laughing suddenly to gape at him, hands lifting to cup his cheeks. Justin freezes, staring at Alex as the blonde starts grinning. “You’re blushing.”
Justin’s eyes widen. “No I’m not,” he denies, feeling his face grow even warmer. Damn it.
“You are,” Alex coos. “It’s adorable. Oh my god. This is the best thing that’s ever happened.”
“Stop,” Justin whines, swatting his hands away. Alex giggles, and Justin tries really hard to ignore how his whole being flutters at the sound. “I’m the one freaking out, you can’t keep doing this to me.”
Alex settles, frowning. “Are you still freaking out?”
Justin’s lips part, ready to deny it, before he takes a minute to think. “Not as much, now,” he decides finally. He wants to be honest with Alex, and that’s as much as he can give at the moment. He feels better being with Alex again, and it reassures him that he’s at least not in the running stage anymore. He knows now it would only do more damage to both of them.
He still isn’t entirely settled, though. Accepting it hasn’t made all of his worries magically disappear, but Alex’s hand now rubbing soothingly over his back helps. Justin gives him a drier little smile, that he returns, wrapping both of his arms around him instead. Cradling him on his lap. Justin likes it.
“You can tell me,” Alex pokes him. “It’s okay.”
Justin bites his lip. “I—I don’t know where to go from here. I’m…scared,” he admits.
Alex smiles softly. “That’s okay. Do you want to try to figure it out now?” Justin nods after a moment. If he doesn’t, it’ll stress him out more. “Okay. I guess we start with what you want this to be.”
“…You and me?” Alex nods. That one, it’s easy. Justin just wants Alex. He wants to kiss him, and hold him, and be kissed and held by him. He wants to stay with him. He wants to be with them. He wants to be them, together. “I want you. I want to be with you.”
“Like, boyfriend status?” Alex questions.
Boyfriend. The word hits Justin strangely, and initially he shies away from it. He’s used to being the boyfriend—not having one. Even that can be a stretch, at times. It’s the sort of thing assholes could tease Justin about that would make him want to punch them. He thinks briefly of Bryce—what he would think of this, if he knew. He looks at Alex and realises he doesn’t care. Not like he thought he would.
He looks at Alex, thinking the word ‘boyfriend’ and something settles into place in his chest. Something that feels comforting, that feels right, as it clicks.
“Yes,” Justin whispers. “I want you, Alex Standall. As my boyfriend.”
Alex smiles, as wide and happy as Justin’s ever seen him, and Justin returns it before Alex is kissing him again. “Okay,” Alex gets out, between kisses. “That’s—that’s good. But you—don’t want to tell anyone.”
Justin sags. “I’m a terrible person.”
“No,” Alex argues immediately. “I get it. I just want you, okay? We’re taking it slow. We’ll figure it out as we go along. It takes time, and I know it. I’m never going to push you, okay? I know you’ll get there.”
He sounds sure about it, too. Justin wishes he felt the same, but thinking about it now seems impossible, in a way he can’t imagine changing. It kind of makes him want to throw up. But being open with it, means being open with Alex. Being out with Alex.
“I don’t want to hide you,” Justin says quickly. “I don’t want to—to pretend you don’t exist, that I don’t care about you. I’m not—I don’t think I’m going to be able to go in and kiss you in the hall, but I want to be how we were before. I still want you to be my best friend. And if people—if rumours start, or anything, that’s okay. I think. It will be. But I want to kiss you, and stuff, and stay with you again. Maybe I’ll work up to it in front of people, and…and maybe I’ll be able to tell certain people, soon.”
Alex is watching him the whole time silently, smile slowly widening. “That sounds good to me,” he says quietly.
Justin smiles in relief. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. You’re amazing. I’m so proud of you,” Alex kisses his nose. “I’m going to be in love with you.”
Justin kisses him again, then curls his arms around him. He thinks he’s going to be in love with him, too.
He lets himself stay in Alex’s lap for a while, the two of them content to just sit there, hugging. It’s when he feels Alex’s breath slow against his shoulder that he forces himself up. Alex looks at him tiredly, and Justin heads towards his closet, picking out clothes for the both of them to sleep in. His bag’s still tucked in the bush. It’ll probably still be there in the morning. He hopes.
He tosses Alex his bundle, and the blonde drags himself off the bed to change into them as Justin does the same, before shutting off the light and turning back to the bed where Alex is already snuggled in. He makes grabby hands for Justin, the gesture blurry in the dark, and Justin laughs quietly, finally sliding in next to him. He didn’t even realise how much he just missed this bed.
It’s so much better than it ever used to be, though. Alex ends up curled in his arms, head pillowed on his chest and hand tangled in Justin’s shirt. Justin fits their legs together and presses his face into Alex’s hair, just for a minute.
He’s not gay. But he’s not not, either. He’s a little in love with Alex Standall. He’s okay with that.