Chapter 36
KAI
Alex was actually very good.
I don’t know why that surprised me. He just seemed so…
innocent. That’s why it always looked strange seeing him dealing, or with a cigarette hanging out of his mouth like it was nothing.
I definitely didn’t think shooting zombies would be something he was good at.
And I definitely didn’t expect him to be better than I was.
“Maybe you should stick to FIFA,” Alex taunted, a wide grin spreading across his face.
If anyone else had said that to me in my own house, I probably wouldn’t have smiled back.
But that’s exactly what I found myself doing with him.
Seeing him swamped in my clothes, hair still slightly damp, eyes sparkling as he stared at the TV screen - so focused, so alive - I felt my heart stutter just looking at him.
I didn’t know what this feeling was. This urge to always check if he was okay.
This instinct to do anything I could to make him smile, to hear him laugh.
When I’d walked into the room unannounced earlier, and he’d jumped out of his skin, something in me twisted.
My chest tightened. I hated that. I didn’t want him to feel jumpy. I wanted him to feel safe.
I didn’t know what the fuck was wrong with me. I was supposed to be staying away from him. That was the plan. That was the smart thing to do.
But I felt like a magnet - pulled in whatever direction Alex Taylor happened to be in.
“I can’t believe you’re beating me in my own home,” I said, clicking the buttons on the controller with vengeance.
I was usually better than this, but my focus kept slipping.
My eyes should’ve been glued to the screen, but they kept drifting over to him - checking he was still smiling, still relaxed, still… okay.
“And in your clothes,” he added, rubbing it in with that smug little grin. I feigned offence, even though the corner of my mouth twitched. “I told you I was good,” he said, still hammering the buttons like he had something to prove.
“Yeah, but I thought you were just saying that,” I admitted, a dry laugh slipping out before I could stop it.
“Why would I just be saying that?” he asked, eyes flicking to mine for a second before snapping back to the TV.
“I don’t know, it’s just what people say, isn’t it?” I said. “Callum thinks he’s amazing, but little kids beat him all the damn time.” I laughed, and Alex did too.
“Why are the best players always ten years old?” he said through a chuckle, thumbs flying over the controller.
I shook my head, trying to focus on the game, but my attention kept drifting back to him - the way he leaned forward, the way he laughed like he actually felt relaxed for once.
“And it’s always the gobby little shits, too,” I pointed out, leaning forward as my character got cornered on the screen.
Alex nodded, eyes narrowing at the TV. “I know. Kids can be so cruel.” He said it lightly, but something in his voice dipped for a second.
I died again and slumped back with a groan, waiting to respawn. “That’s the second time I’ve died. How are you so good at this?” I asked, turning toward him.
He shrugged, barely looking away from the screen. “I play it a lot.”
“Oh, so you’re a try-hard?” I teased, nudging his knee with mine.
“Maybe you should try it,” he shot back, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he wiped out another zombie like it was nothing.
“Yeah, because that’s been working great for you,” I shot back, even though he’d just wiped out half the map without breaking a sweat.
He grinned wider, the kind of grin that made his eyes crease at the corners. “It has been working great for me.”
I rolled my eyes, but the smile tugging at my mouth betrayed me. “Alright, alright. Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late,” he said, nudging my shoulder lightly with his own as he leaned to dodge something on screen.
The nudge was nothing - barely a tap - but it sent a jolt through me anyway.
I tried to focus on the game, but my brain was doing that thing again where it split in two: half of me trying to survive the zombie horde, the other half hyper-aware of Alex sitting next to me, sleeves covering his hands, hair still damp, laughing like he hadn’t laughed in ages.
He didn’t laugh like that at school.
I’d never seen him laugh like that around anyone else.
“You’re not even trying,” Alex said, elbowing me again when my character got taken out. “You’re distracted.”
I scoffed. “I’m not distracted.”
“You are,” he said, matter-of-fact, eyes still glued to the screen. “You keep looking over here.”
My heart stuttered. “I do not.”
“You do,” he said, grinning. “You keep checking if I’m still winning.”
I let out a breathy laugh, trying to play it off. “Yeah, that’s definitely why.”
He didn’t look away from the TV, but his smile softened - just a little. “Well… I’m having fun.”
Something in my chest tightened at that. Not in a bad way. Just… tight.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Me too.”
Alex didn’t tease me for that. He just kept playing, shoulders relaxed, completely absorbed in the game again.
And I sat there, pretending to focus on the screen, pretending I wasn’t falling into something I didn’t understand, pretending I wasn’t already in too deep.
We were in the last minute, and I already knew I was losing to him.
His kill count was twice as high as mine, and now he was just showing off.
But I didn’t mind. I just watched him - smiling at the screen, taking out zombies one by one, completely absorbed.
When the game ended, he raised his controller in the air in victory, and a loud “Yes!” burst out of him.
His little outburst made me laugh… but then his sleeve slipped down, and I saw it - the red, scarred skin along his arm, and my smile quickly vanished.
He followed my eyes and yanked the sleeve back down, fast. The change in him was instant - the sparkle gone, shoulders tight again, like someone had flipped a switch.
“Did Alfie do that?” I asked, my eyebrows pulling together. The idea alone made something hot flare in my chest.
He shook his head quickly, scratching at his shoulder like he needed something to do with his hands.
“I-It’s nothing,” he said, eyes darting anywhere but at me.
“Did he hurt you?” I pressed, jaw tightening. “I knew he was a piece of shit, but I didn’t think he would do that.” The anger slipped out before I could stop it.
“No. It wasn’t him,” he said more firmly this time. “It wasn’t.”
“Then who did?” I asked, softer now but still not letting it go.
His voice cracked. “Can you just drop it, please?”
“No. You’re hurt.” The words came out rougher than I meant them to. “Let me see.” I gestured toward his arm, not touching him, just offering.
“Just leave it.” He took a step back, pleading me with his big brown eyes.
The distance between us felt bigger than the space he’d actually moved.
“Okay,” I said softly, lifting my hands in a surrender motion. “I’m sorry.”
He just stared at me - wide-eyed, tense, like a cornered animal waiting for something bad to happen. And it hit me in the chest, sharp and sudden. The way he held himself. The way he flinched at being seen. The way his whole body braced, like he expected me to push, to demand, to force.
I hated it.
I hated that he’d ever had to learn to stand like that.
“I’m not trying to… I’m not gonna make you,” I said, lowering my hands slowly so he could see I meant it. “I just-” I swallowed, searching for the right words. “I just got worried, that’s all.”
His shoulders stayed tight, but his eyes flicked up to mine for a second - quick, unsure, like he was checking if I was lying.
I wasn’t.
I just wanted him to smile again. To go back to the way he’d been five minutes ago - laughing, teasing me, beating me at my own game like it was the easiest thing in the world. I wanted that version of him back. The one who wasn’t scared. The one who wasn’t shrinking away from me.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” I said, keeping my voice low, steady. “I’m not gonna push you.”
He blinked, and some of the tension in his jaw eased - not all of it, but enough that I could breathe again.
“I just…” I hesitated, because saying it out loud felt too raw, too revealing. But I said it anyway. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt.”
His breath hitched - barely, but I caught it. He looked down at the floor, sleeves pulled tight over his hands, and for a moment neither of us said anything.
The game menu music looped quietly in the background.
And all I could think was how badly I wanted to see that spark in his eyes again.
“Another round?” I said, holding the controller out like a peace offering.
He hesitated for a second - just long enough for me to see the uncertainty still lingering in his eyes - then took it gingerly and sat back on the bed.
“You sure you can take losing again?” he taunted, forcing a small smile.
But even a forced smile from him made something in my chest loosen. I chuckled, shaking my head.
I could take losing a hundred times if it meant seeing that smile again.
“Oh, it’s on,” I said, trying to sound casual as I sat beside him and watched him scroll through the character options. He was already slipping back into the game, shoulders relaxing, focus returning to the screen.
But my mind wasn’t on the game anymore.
All I could think about was the flash of red on his arm.
The way he’d pulled his sleeve down like he’d been caught doing something wrong.
Someone had hurt him.
And I wanted to know who.