Chapter 38
KAI
I don’t know why Alex being hurt bugged me so much.
It wasn’t the fact that he was hurt - people get hurt all the time. Cuts, burns, stupid accidents. He could’ve just said he got in a fight, or burned himself cooking or whatever. Something normal. Something simple.
But it was the way he reacted to it.
The way he froze. The way his eyes went wide. The way he pulled his sleeve down like I’d caught him doing something wrong. The way he stepped back from me like he was afraid.
That’s what got under my skin.
He acted like me seeing his arm was dangerous. Like it meant something. Like it was a secret he wasn’t supposed to let slip. And that made me think there was something bigger going on. Something he didn’t want anyone to know. Something he’d been hiding for a long time.
We’d had a lesson in school before about self-harm. And I wondered if maybe Alex had done that to himself.
But I wasn’t convinced.
He said it wasn’t Alfie - and maybe it wasn’t - but after seeing the way Alfie handled him today, the way he grabbed him, the way Alex yelped… yeah, he was a strong contender.
A very strong contender.
Another thing that bugged me - almost as much as the marks that marred his skin - was the reason for them.
Because to me, Alex seemed like the last person anyone would want to hurt.
He was sensitive. Polite. Quiet. Shy - painfully shy at times.
He kept his head down, always trying to take up as little space as possible, like he didn’t want to bother anyone.
I just couldn’t wrap my head around why someone would want to hurt him.
It didn’t make sense. None of it did.
He wasn’t loud or annoying or confrontational. He wasn’t the type to start fights or talk back or push people’s buttons. If anything, he went out of his way to avoid trouble. He was the kind of kid teachers forgot was in the room. The kind of kid who apologised when someone else bumped into him.
So why the hell did he have scars like that?
I’m annoyed at myself. The way my expression gave me away the moment I saw them.
If I’d just controlled myself - not reacted, not looked so shocked - I might’ve been able to get a better look.
To understand what I was even seeing. But he caught me, and he hid them so fast. Too fast for my brain to catch up.
I know they were red. I know they didn’t look new. And I know he probably was in a lot of pain with it.
But then again… that was another thing.
He didn’t look like he was in pain.
I’d been with him all day. All day. And I hadn’t noticed a single wince, a single flinch, a single sign that something hurt. Not until the sleeve slipped and he realised I’d seen.
But then again, he was good at hiding it.
Too good.
That day in the computer room - when he said he fell off his bike - he’d tried to get up too quickly, and that’s the only reason I even noticed he was hurting. If he hadn’t moved like that, I wouldn’t have known at all. He’d have just carried on, quiet and pale and pretending everything was fine.
And today… he didn’t even slip. I only saw because his sleeve betrayed him.
My eyes scanned him as he walked down the stairs ahead of me. And I wondered - really wondered - what else he was hiding.
Had he more injuries under his clothes?
More marks he didn’t want anyone to see?
More things he’d learned to cover up so well that even someone standing right next to him wouldn’t notice?
The thought made something cold settle in my stomach.
Because if he could hide that much pain… If he could walk around all day acting like nothing hurt… If he could smile and laugh and beat me at a game while carrying all of that…
Then I had no idea what he was dealing with.
And I hated that.
I hated not knowing.
I hoped I was thinking too much into it.
I told myself it was just my brain working overtime again, trying to decode the puzzle that was Alex Taylor and leaping to conclusions that didn’t exist.
“I hope you’re hungry,” Mum said as we rounded into the dining room.
It felt strangely nice actually eating in here; we didn’t do it often, not with it usually being just the two of us.
Most nights we ate on the bar stools in the kitchen or in front of the TV, and Mum mostly used this room as extra storage for her books - the bookcases lining every wall, overflowing in that way only she could get away with.
Alex’s eyes widened as he took it all in whilst Mum laid the table, putting a bowl of roast potatoes next to the runner beans before sitting down. “We’ve got loads of food. I may have gone a little overboard.” She chuckled.
“She always does this,” I said, shaking my head as I sat down. I pulled out the chair next to me for Alex - I didn’t even think about it; it just felt like he needed the clarity. He could get nervous sometimes, and I wanted him to know exactly where he was meant to sit.
“Wow,” Alex said, eyes widening as he took it all in. His filled plate and the bowls of extras in the middle.
“Mum thinks she’s feeding the five hundred,” I said with a laugh.
“I might as well be with you,” she retorted. “Alex, honey, this looks like a lot, but trust me, he’ll eat it all.” She pointed at me with a grin.
“I don’t eat that much,” I said, pretending to be offended.
“So you won’t eat all this food?” She gestured at the bowls of extras.
“I didn’t say that.” I smirked.
“See what I mean?” Mum chuckled, and I glanced at Alex, who was laughing quietly. “Always eating, this one.” Then she turned to him. “I didn’t know what you liked, so I gave you a bit of everything. I hope that’s okay.”
“That’s fine, thank you, Mrs Fields,” Alex said with a small smile. “It looks delicious.”
“It’s Kate, dear,” she reminded him gently, and he forced another smile. “But thank you. Now tuck in.” She pointed to his plate.
He picked up his knife and fork and started eating.
I gave Mum a grateful smile and dug into mine.
Her Sunday roasts were elite - the one meal I never slacked on.
Didn’t count calories, didn’t think about macros.
Just ate. She didn’t make it every week because of her shifts at the hospital, so when she did, I took advantage.
“Are you a big eater, Alex?” she asked as she cut into her chicken.
He paused for half a second - barely noticeable, but I caught it. His fork hovered before he forced a shrug.
“Um… not really,” he said softly. “Definitely not as much as Kai, anyway.” He smirked as he dug into his plate.
“Right, we get it, I eat a lot.” I rolled my eyes, and Alex laughed quietly.
“I think I’d eat a lot too if my mum’s cooking tasted like yours,” he added quickly, and Mum’s face lit up, pleased.
“Oh bless you, is your mum not much of a cook then?” she asked, taking a sip of her white wine. She always had a little drink with Sunday dinner - just a glass or two, nothing heavy, just her thing.
Alex shook his head. “She can make, like, eggs and bacon and things like that, but I think she’d probably burn the house down if she tried to make something like this.” He let out a small laugh.
Mum smiled and nodded. “So what do you normally have for tea, then?”
“Um… depends,” he said lightly. “Mum buys a lot of ready meals from the shop. And if there’s nothing in the house, Connor will usually just order something.”
“Connor?” Mum questioned, putting a forkful in her mouth.
“Um, he’s my brother,” Alex replied, taking another bite.
“Oh, that’s lovely,” Mum said. “Kai always wanted a brother.”
“Yeah, I told him,” I said, nodding with my mouth full.
“But I don’t know if I could’ve dealt with two of him,” Mum laughed.
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“You’d think it was a house full of kids, the mess this one used to leave around,” she chuckled, gesturing to me. “Everywhere I walked, I was stepping on Legos.”
“Ouch,” Alex said with a laugh.
“Exactly.” Mum grinned. “I would’ve liked a girl, though.” She smiled into her cup. “When Kai was a baby, and his dad was out, I used to dress him in girl clothes, go out and pretend he was a princess.”
“Mum.” I sighed. But liked how amused Alex was.
“I told you that, didn’t I?” she said, taking another bite.
“Yeah, doesn’t mean Alex needs to know.” I shook my head, cheeks reddening by the minute.
“Oh, don’t be silly. He was so cute.” She pointed at me. “I used to call him Kylie.”
“Yeah, ’cause that’s not confusing for me as a baby.” I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, please, you were barely a couple months old.” She waved me off. Then she turned to Alex. “What about you? Bet your mum had her work cut out with two boys.”
“Well, erm… I guess. My brother’s quite a bit older than me, so we never, like, played together or anything.” Alex shifted in his seat, cutting into a potato.
“Oh, how old is your brother?” she asked, intrigued. And honestly, so was I.
“He’s twenty-six,” Alex said, taking another bite. It was nice seeing him actually eat something proper for once. Not just chocolate bars and crisps.
“Oh wow, that is a considerable bit older, isn’t it?” Mum nodded, taking another sip of her drink.
I watched Alex carefully as he chewed - the way he kept his eyes down, the way he answered quickly and then retreated back into silence.
Twenty-six. That was a big age gap. Big enough that Connor wasn’t just a brother - he was practically a second parent.
“So what does he do, your brother?” Mum asked, just making conversation - but I felt the way Alex tensed at the question. It was subtle, but it was there. His shoulders tightened, and a faint flush crept up his neck.
“Uhm-” Alex said, cheeks reddening.
“He runs his own business, doesn’t he?” I cut in before he had to scramble for an answer. “Something to do with finances.”
“Oh, well, he must be smart then,” Mum said, and Alex shot me a quick look - a quiet thank you without saying the words.
“And your mum? What does she do?” She asked. Another harmless question. But to Alex, nothing about this seemed harmless. I could feel him closing up again, like a door slowly shutting.