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alex stared at the ceiling. now that he (and the boys) had finally escaped the weird half living half dead situation they came back to, they could sleep.
he had a complicated relationship with sleep. before, when alex was younger, his anxiety had kept him up until the early morning. he’d stare at the ceiling, fiddling with his cross necklace, wondering if everything was going to be okay.
slightly before things weren’t okay, alex had realized how easily the cross slid off said necklace, slipping it off for mere seconds felt freeing.
the presence was there, but the weight wasn’t, comforting, but without the pressure, without the feeling of surveillance.
one day, alex slid it off for good. he came home from band practice to tell his mom that the clip had come undone, that he was able to locate the chain, but not the cross.
his mom had asked if he wanted a replacement, but alex refused, telling her it wouldn’t share the first cross’ significance, that it wouldn’t be as comforting and familiar.
alex’s mom had agreed, who was she to argue? the presence of god was supposed hold significance, and a necklace as old as her son’s was would do that, missing the cross or not, and alex’s father agreed.
unfortunately, he soon learned that in some cases, god wasn’t just comforting, religion wasn’t just a community, it could be a fear tactic too.
with false hope, alex had decided to tell his parents. he had heard all of the horror stories, but he had heard about people thriving after coming out too, his boys made sure of that.
these were the same parents that had let him wear the necklace without the cross, let him play the drums and brought his friends in when they didn’t have anyone else, who had encouraged him to pursue music, as long as school came first.
yet the horror stories won, and he had left within weeks, and shoved the cross to the bottom of the garbage bag his clothes were in.
alex had never really talked to julie about it, but he had seen the casual flags down the streets of 2020 los
angeles.
julie had mentioned, so casually one day, something about a girl she used to like, and alex had nodded along to the rest of the conversation without really registering it, but now he worried that he’d missed his chance.
alex knew that things were going to be okay, but now that him and willie were truly alive again, would they really be?
willie hadn’t said anything, and alex, logically, knew that he probably would’ve said something if the two of them weren’t, but there was still a voice saying-
“alex, dude, i can hear you worrying from here, what’s up?” luke asked, from the other side of the pullout couch.
now that they were solid, living, breathing, julie had to tell ray what had happened.
ray had been unsurprisingly kind, and extremely welcoming. he was apologetic about the boys staying in the studio, and even more so when julie informed him they had done it for years.
on saturday, ray had designated time for them to talk about “making the space more of a home,” which was sort of nerve wracking to think about.
but until then, the pull out couch.
“i know you’re awake dude, and not waking to talk about it right now is cool, but i will talk to you about it in the morning,” luke said.
“just thinking about things, trying to figure out if we’re going to be okay, y’know?” alex responded.
“yeah dude, we still have each other, and now we have julie and all of the molinas, i think we’re gonna be okay,” reggie said.
alex exhaled, and luke said, “reg is right, we’re going to be okay. and if you don’t feel like that, you can talk to us dude.”
“i love you guys, but we should probably go to sleep,” reggie said, “we can talk more in the morning if you want?”
“yeah,” alex said, “goodnight guys.”
luke reached over and messed with alex’s hair, and reggie, with an elbow in his face, exclaimed, “dude, move!”
“goodnight guys,” alex said, with more emphasis.
“goodnight,” both reggie and luke said.
alex turned over, exhaled and tried to remind himself, they were going to be okay.