Chapter 56 #2
“Alex,” I breathed, reaching for him again, slower this time. He didn’t pull away, just watched me with those wide, guarded eyes. “I won’t ask. Just let me see.”
He exhaled shakily and let me turn his head, his jaw tensing under my fingertips.
I leaned in, letting my eyes trace the curve of his cheek.
At first it looked normal - smooth, familiar - but now that I knew what to look for, the truth surfaced.
A faint swelling. Subtle shadows beneath the skin, uneven and blurred, like he’d tried to hide them.
My stomach dropped.
“Your face…” I breathed, my thumb hovering just shy of his skin, afraid to hurt him again. “Someone hurt your beautiful face.”
Alex’s eyes flickered, a flash of shame and something like fear crossing them before he could mask it. His breath hitched, and he looked away, shoulders curling inward again as if trying to disappear.
He shook his head, swallowing hard. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m fine. I swear I’m fine.” But his voice trembled on fine .
“Alex, I-”
“Please… don’t make it a thing.” He cut me off before I could finish, his voice tight, his eyes pleading in a way that hit me harder than the words themselves.
I held his gaze, searching it. There it was - the panic, the fear of me digging, the fear of being seen too clearly. It yanked on something in my chest. I hated that look on him. Hated that someone had put it there.
He looked like he was expecting for me to push. Like he’d already lived through the fallout of people not listening when he said stop .
So I let the anger settle, swallowed the questions burning in my throat, and let my hand fall gently away.
“Okay,” I said softly.
The word wasn’t surrender - it was a promise.
A promise that I wouldn’t force him.
A promise that I’d wait until he felt safe enough to tell me himself.
Alex’s shoulders loosened just a fraction, like he hadn’t realised how tense he’d been until that moment. He looked down, exhaling shakily, and for the first time since I’d seen the bruise, he didn’t look like he was about to bolt.
“Come here,” I whispered, lifting my hand in a small gesture. My voice felt too soft, too fragile, like it might break if he didn’t move.
Alex hesitated only a second before shifting closer, resting his head on my shoulder. The warmth of him hit me all at once - the weight of his trust, the quiet sound of his tiny exhales brushing my collarbone. My heart jumped, stumbling over itself in a way I couldn’t hide even from myself.
I let my fingers drift into his curls, slow and careful, like touching something I’d wanted for too long. His hair was softer than I’d imagined, and the moment my hand settled there, I felt his whole body loosen by degrees, tension melting out of him as if he’d been holding himself rigid for hours.
“I love your hair,” I whispered before I could stop myself. Apparently, drunk Kai had no filter at all.
Alex let out a small laugh against my shoulder, the sound warm and breathy. “It needs a cut.”
I shook my head, eyes slipping shut as I let my cheek rest lightly against his head. “I don’t think so. I think it’s perfect.”
A slow exhale left me - part relief, part disbelief that he was here like this, leaning on me, letting me hold him. His body fit against mine in a way that made everything else fade out: the cold air, the night, the ache in my chest.
A moment passed.
A quiet one.
The kind that settles over two people when neither wants to move first.
“So what happens now?” Alex whispered, his head still cradled nicely against my arm. “Like in school and everything.”
I sighed. “Shit school.” The words slipped out before I could stop them. “I don’t think I’m ready to come out or anything.”
“Fuck coming out,” Alex muttered against my shoulder. “It’s not like straight people have to do it. Why should we?”
I blinked, surprised by the quiet fire in his voice. “I suppose I never thought of it like that,” I said. “But you’re out. Don’t you like that people know?”
He shook his head where it rested on my arm, the movement small, almost tired. “But I didn’t have a choice, so I guess that made it harder.”
I hesitated. “I heard about that. What actually happened?”
He let out a long breath, the kind that sounded like it had been sitting in him for years. “Some guy from school - Lewis Aldan - he was in our year. He always used to tease me for being quiet. He and his friends asked me if I was gay all the time. Of course, I always denied it.”
His fingers curled slightly against my shirt, like the memory still stung.
“But then I got a message on Instagram from some guy I didn’t know. Said he was moving from Westley and wanted to get to know people from Belrose.” He shook his head, a bitter little laugh escaping. “I don’t know why I believed it. It was stupid, really.”
I felt him tense, so I kept my hand in his hair, slow and steady.
“We messaged for a few days and then he said he liked me. We planned to meet up at Whip It. It was Rach’s idea; she was on shift that day, and she just wanted to be there, you know, in case he turned out to be a psycho or something.
” He paused, swallowing. “But no one turned up. I thought I got stood up.”
His voice dropped, barely audible.
“Then I went into school the next day, and Lewis was there. He’d sent around all the messages. And I found out it was him the whole time.”
He shrugged, but it wasn’t casual. It was the kind of shrug people used when they’re trying to pretend something didn’t break them.
“That’s awful,” I said, anger tightening my jaw. “What a piece of shit.”
“I know.” His voice was small, almost resigned.
“Lewis Aldan… I remember him. Isn’t he the one who had that accident?” I asked, trying to place the name.
Alex nodded against me.
“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” I said softly.
“What about your family, are you out to them?”
He nodded against me, the movement small. “My mum… she doesn’t care. Thinks love is love and all that crap.” He tried to sound dismissive, but there was a warmth there too - a softness he didn’t quite know how to accept.
Then his voice dipped. “My brother… he… it would have been easier if he didn’t know.”
My eyebrows pulled together before I could stop them. I felt him tense, like he already regretted saying it.
“He thinks I need to toughen up,” Alex muttered, his fingers curling into the fabric of my shirt. “That’s why he bought me the Xbox. He thinks killing zombies is going to make me more of a man.”
A hollow laugh escaped him - the kind that wasn’t really a laugh at all. His shoulders tightened under my arm, like he was bracing for judgment or pity or something worse.
I felt something cold settle in my chest. Not anger yet - just the first sting of it. The quiet, creeping kind that comes when you realise someone you care about has been carrying something heavy for a long time.
He didn’t look up. Didn’t need to. I could feel the shame in the way he held himself, the way his breath hitched like he was waiting for me to agree with his brother, or pull away, or say something that would confirm every awful thing he’d been told about himself.
But I didn’t move. If anything, I held him a little closer.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He shrugged again, but this time he lifted his head just enough to look at me.
“It is what it is.” He said, matter-of-factly, then his eyes softened, something protective flickering there.
“But I don’t want that for you. If you want to come out, make sure it’s on your terms… with the people you want to know.”
He held my gaze for a moment, and there was something in it - something fierce and gentle all at once - that made my heart skip.
I brushed my thumb over his shoulder, slow and steady. “I don’t know what my terms even are yet. But… I’m glad you’re here while I figure it out.”
He nodded into my arm, the movement small and warm against me. “We’ll be careful,” he murmured. “Keep this” - he gestured between us - “to ourselves for a while. Stay low at school.” His voice carried a quiet certainty, like he’d already thought this through a hundred times.
“And out of school?” I asked before I could stop myself, my voice coming out far more hopeful than I meant it to. The hope hung there between us, embarrassingly obvious.
Alex’s shoulders tightened instantly, a tiny flinch I felt more than saw.
“It’s…” he started, but the word stalled in his throat.
“Complicated, I know,” I finished for him, trying to save him from having to say it. My chest pulled anyway.
He let out a slow breath, his body easing again as he settled back against me. “We’ll meet up when we can,” he said, his voice small but sincere, like he wanted to promise more but didn’t trust himself to.
I nodded, letting my cheek rest lightly against his hair. “Yeah,” I said softly. “We can make this work.”
The words weren’t just reassurance - they were a decision, a quiet vow I felt settle in my chest as he relaxed into me again.