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You've trusted me for no good reason (Here I am, committing treason)

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Title from turtles all the way down by sammy copley

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“Alex,” Amy’s voice knocks him from his train of thought, Alex turns to face Amy, phone in hand. “Your phones ringing again, are you just gonna let it keep going to voicemail?”

Alex shrugs, not bothering to turn back to Amy. He hears a small huff escape her lips in response and her hands grab onto his chair, spinning him around and they lock eyes. “You’re not even gonna ask who it is?”

No, because he knows who it is and why he’s not answering, he changed his number for a reason and it was for the best. He doesn’t have the number saved anymore but it’s still engraved in his mind, he’s replayed the voicemails incessantly just to hear his voice but he never answers.

“Who is it?” Alex asks, dismissively, he chews the inside of his lips as the phone is dropped on the desk and Amy’s brows pinch together in irritation. “it’s an unsaved number that just keeps calling, I’m ignoring it.”

“You know damn well it’s not just an unsaved number, It’s Jay’s number and we both know you know that,” Amy’s arms fold over her chest, she leans against the dresser that’s near the desk. “I don’t know why you insist on ignoring him? That’s your best friend.”

His phones screen lights up again, the ringing beginning to sound off and Alex’s eyes twitch, there’s an ache forming at the base of his skull and he feels thrumming behind his eyes. “It’s not his number,” he insists, teeth digging into his tongue.

Amy shakes her head, disappointment etched in her features.

“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you answer?” Alex questions, shifting back to facing the keyboard.

“I have,” Amy says, leaning on Alex’s chair. “And he wants to talk to you.” There’s shuffling behind him and the click of his phone being unlocked, it’s back down on the table and she’s hovering over him, sun-kissed hair curtaining his head.

“Call,” Amy insists, she pushes his phone to where Alex’s hand rests.

“Did something happen that I’m not aware of? Because I’d like to know, these are my friends too.” Amy says, her arms coming to rest atop Alex’s stiffening shoulders.

“Was it during filming?” Amy’s chin rests on Alex’s head, waiting for a response. “This is like talking to a brick wall… when did we stop talking?”

“We still talk,” Alex says, biting the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know what you’re talking about? I’m just busy… I’ll call later, okay?”

Amy sighs, pulling away her footsteps echoing in Alex’s ears, the room was almost empty, newly at that.

Amy draws the curtains back, they part allowing sunlight to filter in. “Isn’t that better?” After getting used to the initial glare, yes, maybe she had a point.

“You can’t just keep ignoring everyone, you know,” Amy says, she sits on the bed, mattress dipping beneath her weight. “What good does it do anyways?”

Alex sighs, he turns his computer off, turning his attention back to her. Clink. Clink. Clink. Clink.

He cranes his neck to see where the sound was coming from, something moves in the corner of his eyes and When Alex’s head flips around to follow whatever it is, it’s gone. His mouth going dry, the incessant thumping of his heart attempting to escape his ribcage begins again.

“Alex?” Amy’s voice fizzles in through the ringing in Alex’s ears, the crushing feeling that begins to encompass the back of his skull, moving forward.

“Are you okay?” Amy stands up, her arm linking in Alex’s and pulling him to sit on the edge of the bed. “You keep doing this,” she frowns.

Alex finally turned to look at her, eyes unfocused despite the presence of his glasses , a hesitant hand reaches to massage at his temples.

“I’m fine,” Alex mutters, leaning into his hand. “Just a headache, it’s probably nothing… stress and i’m coming down with something..” and well, he isn’t lying. He thinks he is sick, there is something rotting inside his ribcage and everywhere else but how do you explain that?

He doesn’t.

And he doesn’t intend to call the number either but he doesn’t tell Amy that either.

“You said that last time,” Amy says, her arm extending to stroke Alex’s back that begins to slump into her touch. “Maybe that means you need to make a change?”

That’s what the move was supposed to be, that’s what transferring was supposed to be. Yes, Alex was being honest in saying he missed Amy but he also needed out of that godforsaken state, the town.

“Would you ever consider trying to continue filming, hm?” Amy’s nails lightly scratch against Alex’s back. “That used to make you so happy and wouldn’t that be a nice change of pace, hon?”

Alex shrugs but this only leads to Amy pulling him closer in response. “It wasn’t meant to be.” He settles on and Amy doesn’t seem convinced.

“You never know if you don’t try? Maybe then wasn’t the time.” Amy reasons, her head knocks against Alex’s shoulder, it’s still stiff. It’s become somewhat of a routine even if Amy hates to admit it, it’s normal that he’s acting so strangely.

The constant locking of the doors, the windows, he’d bought new locks and figured out how to install them. Amy doesn’t know where it came from.

The door pushes open as Rocky comes trotting in, he stares at the window and he walks towards it, jumping on the windowsill and beginning to bark.

Alex turns his head and maybe it’s a coincidence or it’s proof he isn’t crazy. Or perhaps just Rocky being a dog, a loud ass dog. Maybe if Amy saw he’d have proof but he’d never wish that on her. He didn’t want her to see it, he didn’t want her to taste the rot. He doesn’t know how she doesn’t when they’re together.

Something pools at the pit of his stomach, nausea riding up back his throat, bile burning his throat. Alex swallows thickly and Amy’s gentle touch is the only thing still tethering him to the present, he stiffens and he closes his eyes when the inability to focus becomes apparent again.

“You need to talk to me—I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong—“ Amy is interrupted when Alex finally speaks again.

“What if I don’t know?” He chokes out, throat tight. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Amy pauses, her lips downturned. “You don’t know?” She repeats.

“I don’t know,” Confirms Alex.

“Well,” Amy swallows, she hesitates. “That’s okay you don’t know…do you think it’s a relapse maybe or something else? Is it the lights or the noises?”

Alex shakes his head.

“Do you think maybe you’d feel better talking to Jay?” Amy offers.

Alex frowns, he swallows. “Amy, I’m not calling him.”

“You’re not talking to me, I don’t know what to do? Will you talk to Sarah? Or Brian? Tim? Seth? Someone besides me?” Amy continues, her hand scales up Alex’s back and rests on his shoulder, squeezing it.

Amy considers where the odd behavior had begun to occur. . . If she remembers correctly, it was back when he was in the process of filming his student film and she’d spoken to Jay and the others when they’d brought up he’d been acting weird.

Alex had always had a temper, moreover, emotional rather than angry because that wasn’t him. So, that’s why him getting so angry was so strange because he was getting so upset for so long and over so little. And even then, Alex’s anger always dissolved into tears.

She’d recalled one day when he’d gotten home, earlier than he said he would, it was unexpected but what rubbed her the wrong way was the waves of irritation that tumbled off of him.

“You’re home early,” Amy says, she sits down the book she was reading, her eyes lingering as Alex dismisses Rocky a tad fast which is strange. “Did something happen?”

“No,” Alex answers a little too fast for Amy’s liking and she knows he’s not being completely truthful, she marks the spot in her book, sitting it on the mahogany coffee table, patting the spot beside her on the couch and Alex obeys.

“You don’t look to happy,” Amy comments, lips curling into a frown in an attempt to elicit a response from Alex but nothing, she rests her hand on his shoulder and he slumps against her.

She could work with this now. “What’s bothering you? I’m sure you’ll figure out whatever’s stumping you, if that’s it, you have talent.”

“No one knows how to listen,” Alex begins, his hands, making a dismissive motion as he speaks, he’d always been very expressive and at least this means she’s getting a real response out of him now.

“Why do you say that?” Amy’s fingers card through Alex’s hair, separating strands and tucking them behind his ear.

“They have scripts, they have directions—“ Alex continues. “And I don’t think I’m a bad director? Seth brought Bailey even though I told him to leave him at home.” He huffs in response, his head dropping into his hands.

Amy remains silent to see if Alex’s done speaking before she speaks, her intentions are for him to get everything out, she sighs.

“And I know Bailey’s a sweet dog, but I don’t want him around—I don’t like big dogs—and Maybe I’m overreacting—“ Alex pauses, throat tightening. “I don’t even know why I’m so angry.”

Amy had chalked it up to stress but now she thinks it’s something more, he dropped filming, he’s watching over his shoulder constantly, the changed locks, the sudden move, he’s ignoring Jay and their other friends.

She’d asked Jay and gotten nothing new and resorted to Asking Brian because maybe he knew something? After all, he knew Alex the longest and they’d all been friends for a long time before either Alex and Amy had started dating.

Brian had nothing to go off of either.

And that concerned Amy.

“I’m just trying to help, i’m not trying to be invasive or anything…” Amy’s eyes meet Alex’s when he looks up, his hand instinctively inching to grasp hers.

“I know,” Alex murmurs. “It’s not you, I swear….”

“Then what is it?” Asks Amy, her expression hopeful.

Again, more silence. The only thing filling the air is their breathing.

“It’s not me I’m worried about, Alex,” Amy says, she doesn’t resist Alex squeezing her hand, she squeezes back, his fingers stroking her knuckles like she usually does to him.

“I’m sorry for worrying you, it’s okay, it really is.” Assures Alex weakly.

Amy frowns at the admission.

She doesn’t think it’s nothing to worry about but she can’t call bullshit just yet.

It’s when Amy finds the gun, she’s had enough. “first the coming home late drenched—In I don’t know who’s blood—the lying—the being angry—now a gun?” Her voice is sharp, punctuating what she’s saying. She doesn’t know what scares her more if it’s his or someone else’s—she just wants to help, she wants to understand. And why won’t he fucking tell her? She’s understanding, if he explained she’d understand and she’s starting to have her suspicions.

And Alex’s silence confirm them, no protest, his lips part only briefly as if he’s going to protest but he doesn’t, he never does.

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