23

Don't watch me cry- Jorja Smith

~

Paris didn't see her for an extra week.

Of course, he knew why she was absent but he couldn't exactly go look for her. He had tried messages, and calls, but she never replied. That didn't surprise him either. She never liked to do so in the beginning.

Still, he had his reasons for fearing a face to face meeting. One being when Marcos had called him to pick him up at the Cathedral and Paris found him quiet, and red eyed. The male refused to say a word to him till they got to his house.

The reason, was clearly obvious, and somehow Paris had known she would do something like that to him. Though Marcos had... Hurt her, he supposed. Doing what he did, but he hadn't done anything.

He doubted she thought the same, another reason why he didn't attend her funeral. Paris wouldn't have taken it down easy, if she did like Marcos, and would have probably disrupted the whole thing, so for both their sakes, he stayed away.

Except he wasn't sure how long he could do that anymore.

Sometimes, not knowing the aftermath of something is clearly worse than knowing, because being tormented constantly by it, by what could happen, it was horrible.

Paris was an overthinker, though that had reduced recently because Alex did most of the thinking for him. Telling him what to do when he wasn't sure or couldn't pick.

And there were times when she was all she could think about. Now being one of those times.

For days, he would play with the signet ring she gave him, staring at the words inside it. He could barely remember that night, when they first met. He wished he did. More memories to satisfy the nightmares in his head with.

That was why, when he found himself in her house, the door was left open, he wondered how crazy he had become.

He was a self-centered male, and protecting himself was always his top priority. Paris had learned to have her in his life and he didn't like the thought of that changing but at the same time, he liked to think she wouldn't cut him off either. That she loved him enough not to but he wasn't delirious.

She loved Marcos, as well. Very much. If the male didn't survive the eviction, there was no way he would, but he needed to know if she was alright, except as he stared around the house, it was clear she wasn't.

Alex was a clean freak. He had seen her pat Marcos' hair to place, or brush off lint his shirt unconsciously.

Her house was a mess. Everything else was still the same way he remembered it, except it looked worse. Trash all over the floor, the chairs out of place. Dust in every corner.

It looked like a tornado of dirt swept into the house.

How had she even been surviving there?

The kitchen was worse. There was a horrible smell in the air and plates that seemed to have been there for longer than a week, with mould all over it and water pooled from the sink to the floor.

It didn't even seem like there was anything new in the place, that was safe to eat. Paris had heard Marcos say once that she rarely ate, but this... This was a whole different level.

A part of him got mad at himself for the fact he had stayed away for so long without checking on her and the other part was mad at her. Why was she acting like this? True, he didn't know her Mother. It wasn't a topic they ever discussed but at the same time, he didn't expect her to do this.

He took out his phone, ready to call her again before he heard someone say behind him, "Paris?"

He turned, his heart stopping at that second.

Alex was— Fuck, she looked sick. Dehydrated. Her eyes were sunken now, and she wasn't wearing her big clothes as she used to, just a singlet and shorts. Her back was hunched over and her hair—

All of it was gone.

"You—" Paris tried to keep his breathing calm. "You don't have cancer, do you?"

A look came over her face at those words. A half smile. A half sad smile. A half sad smile that made his heart hurt. "No. I— I couldn't keep it anymore."

"It's not just your hair," Seeing her this close... God, he wanted to hold her. Why the fuck did he stay away that long? "You look—"

Dead, but he didn't say it.

Alex stared at him now, the smile going away as a completely sad one took over. She looked like standing was hard for her. Like seeing him was hard. "Why did you come, Paris?"

"I'm allowed to," He tried to act like that question didn't upset him the way it did. He had missed her. Being away from her... It was like suffering withdrawal from a bloody drug but he also knew why she asked that.

And that pissed him off too. "I know what you want to say,"

Paris turned back to the sink, staring at the dishes. He had never done anything like this before, but he was willing to do anything to skip this talk. "But we need to find you something to eat and —"

"You didn't come here for that."

He let out a scoff. "Well, you've never been the best at reading my fucking mind so,"

"Paris—"

He faced her now. "Can't you just... Stop? Stop trying to be a fucking dominant with your head up your ass for once. Stop trying to tell me what to do. I just want to be of some use for a while before you get rid of me, okay? So please, let me."

She stared at him. Paris knew she was tired. That she wanted him gone, and he wanted to leave too. This was hell. Knowing after this he would probably never see her again.

But he watched her nod, a breath he didn't know he was holding leaving his mouth as he turned back to the sink before he heard her say, "I want to help,"

Paris closed his eyes for a second, Jesus, he had forgotten how stubborn she could be. "I swear to God, someone needs to strap you to a chair to get you compliant."

Alex stood beside him now, staring at the sink. "It's more of me afraid that you would break one of this plates than anything else to be honest,"

He turned to her, feeling his nose flare up. "You know, you're horribly ungrateful."

She wasn't looking at him. "Perhaps, I am,"

Paris found himself staring at her again. She had accepted that so readily, differently than she always was. Usually, she always had something to say. Something to put him back into his place.

Alex looked at him again. "Changed your mind?"

He rolled his eyes now. "You wish,"

As they cleaned up, both stayed silent and Paris knew it was the first time he ever had a comfortable silence situation. He already knew what she wanted to say to him, and she knew he knew that, but for now, they could pretend, couldn't they? Just for a little time.

When they were done with the dishes, they cleaned the kitchen up, then returned to the sitting room.

As he wiped off the dust around, he realized there were no pictures around the house. He had no idea if that was how it always was, or she had gotten rid of it but he didn't ask.

The only time he did speak was when he spotted the CD player in a corner of the living room. "Does this still work?"

She stared at it for a few seconds, a blank look on her face before she replied, "I don't know." And returned to cleaning.

As soon as they were done, he told her to go clean up in her room while he arranged everything back to her place, and surprisingly she agreed.

As soon as she was gone, he ordered for a box of pizza and chinese food, spending the next free seconds trying out the player.

When she returned, she sat beside him, legs crossed as she said, her voice small, "Does it still work?"

She smelled different. Like lavender. Wearing a wool sweater that stopped at her thighs and white socks.

Paris stared at the CD's stacked up in a corner. "I've cleaned it up, but I'm not sure yet," He turned to her now. "Do you have a favourite?"

Alex stared at the racks. There was a look of recognition on her face as she did so, before she reached out for one and showed it to him.

He stared at it, then her. "Classical music?"

She nodded, her voice still small. "We used to play it all the time when he came back... To stay. He said listening to slow songs made him think less, and then—" The corners of her lips moved a bit. "Then she'd dance with him, because he liked doing that too. He liked dancing..."

Her voice trailed off, her lips pressing into a thin line now. Her eyebrows were knitted together, her cheeks looking pinched. "We shouldn't—"

"We should," He cut in, turning back to the player. "You're overthinking again. Maybe it would calm you down too,"

Alex stayed silent again.

As he pressed the open button and the CD compartment slid out, someone knocked on the door. A panicked look crossed over Alex's face, causing him to quickly tell her he ordered for something before she relaxed and he walked to the door.

After he paid for it, and turned, he caught her staring at the player. Slow music was playing from it now. A violin, and a piano harmoniously going together.

She sat there, unmoving as it played. Eyes remaining on it. He could see the tears in her eyes though she didn't let any fall as she quickly brushed them away before they could.

"Hey,"

She turned to look at him. She looked so little in that sweater. Easy to break.

Paris nudged his head at the couch, holding up the pizza box with one hand and the takeout noodles boxes in the other hand. "Come eat,"

He walked to the table and the put the things in his hands on it before sitting on the floor and staring at her.

She hadn't moved an inch.

"Alex,"

She kept looking at him silently before slowly standing and walking over to the table. He had expected her to stay over at the other side but she didn't. The female plopped directly beside him, opening the pizza box and taking out a slice.

Usually, Paris hated it when people did that. It seemed... Mannerless, to just eat when there was someone else beside you, but he didn't say anything as she did so.

He watched as she ate, clearly hungry. She didn't try to hide that fact she was, chewing on the slice faster than he was sure she could swallow it.

He wanted to reach out and pat her head, tell her to calm down, but he said nothing, just staring at him.

On her fourth slice, she turned to him, grease over her mouth and fingers. "Oh. Sorry. Are you eating or?"

"You ask this now?"

She frowned. "Right. I shouldn't have asked."

A small chuckle escaped his lips as he pushed away the box and placed the takeout with the chopsticks beside it in front of her. "Enough junk. Here,"

Alex stared at it now, then back at him. "I'm eating both?"

"Alex,"

A smile came to her face now. "Kidding,"

The next few moments, they spent it quietly again, the song still playing in the background. When they were both done eating, she laid her head on his shoulders, her body cuddled next to him.

He had gotten a blanket and put over their bodies because it had gotten cold as soon as it was evening since she hadn't paid the light bill and everywhere stayed dark.

"I play the violin,"

Paris looked down at her. She was still staring at the player. "Hezekiah played the piano, and she played the cello. She would brag about it all the time that we were a musically gifted family. Good times,"

"I'm sorry," He said, "About everything."

"I don't know how I feel about it," She said softly. "I'm not... Mad at her. I think she tried. Everyday. Looking at me reminded her of what she had. And our lives were perfect, Paris. We had everything when we—"

She paused now, her body suddenly tensing. Paris reached out for her hand now. It was cold to his touch, causing him to blow warm air on it.

As he did so, he could tell she was relaxing before she moved closer towards him, sighing, "I feel tired too. Like... I've been running for so long, and now I'm at the end of the road and there's nothing left."

"Of course there is," He said now. "There's school —"

"I don't need school," She cut in. "I never wanted to go to college either," Then she chuckled. "At least, at the beginning. That was until I wanted to make sure I got a degree so I could get a job to take care of her. I had a lot of plans and now... Now, I don't know. It's like waking up from a decade long nightmare and the whole world's moved on without you so you're just... Stuck in the past and you can't... Move."

He rubbed his hand on hers now. There were soft, and long. She kept her nails short, clean. He liked that. He never noticed it before.

Paris had never been with her like this. Holding her. Letting him take care of her like this. It felt like he was paying for his sins, in a way. Never being able to mourn Zephyr right. Or take care of his Mother. "I can't say I understand, Alex. I don't... But— But in a way, you're free now, aren't you? To do what you want?"

She said nothing for a while, her chest rising and falling then asked, "How's he doing?"

Her voice came out in a whisper but he heard and answered, "I haven't seen him in a while. He hasn't— Been in school,"

He wanted to ask why she did that, but he knew how it'd go so he didn't.

He'd try prolonging it a little longer. Enjoy the moment as much as he could.

"Check on him for me?" She asked, looking up at him. "I don't want—"

"And you?" He cut in. In the darkness, he stared at her. Her brown eyes looked soft, her mouth parted slightly.

He had never seen her this close before, and his heart throbbed at the sight. Why did she have to be so beautiful? Why did she have to be like this?

"You take care of everyone but never yourself," He continued, "Even the first time we met, you helped me with your leg problem. Do you remember?"

"It's how I am, I put people first."

"You should start putting yourself."

Her lips pursed at those words, her cheeks puffing slightly as she said, "That is what I am trying to do, but it's hard. I... I miss him." Tears clouded her eyes. "I miss you,"

That seemed to break something in him because he held her cheeks now, his words coming out rapidly. "I can stay. I— I didn't do anything, right? And Marcos— You can forgive him, can't you? It's just a matter of time—"

"He needs to learn how to be without me,"

"Breaking up with him is different," He said, his voice pleading now. "Breaking up with me as well. We don't have to do anything. I can just keep you company, and stay for a while—"

"What are you doing after school?" She asked, her head now resting on his hand. "After he sends you away?"

He froze. How did she—?

"If I don't come to school, you can be Valedictorian, can't you?" She continued. "If you got a scholarship, you can take care of Eleanor too. I tried getting Sebastian to change his mind about it, but he said you needed the challenge, but that's fine. I know you can do anything. You can do anything."

"I—" The words were spiraling out of control in his head. "Valedictorian? But— But you—"

A grim expression appeared on her face now. "You need it more than I do."

"Alex," He felt his heart beat frantically now. Once upon a time, this was what he wanted. What he deserved. Or thought that he did.

He shook his head now, holding her closer. "You've fought so hard for it. You— You needed it. Marcos said—"

She shook her head. "I didn't. It was for her, but she's gone now. I think— I think a part of me just wanted her to appreciate me. If I got that, if I took care of her, maybe she'd finally love me,"

Then Alex smiled. "But that isn't happening, is it?"

"Alex,—"

"If I stay in your life, you'd spend your time trying to help me, I don't want that. You have so much to do. To live for. For her. For yourself."

"Think of yourself for fuck's sake!" He heard himself suddenly snap.

She didn't budge. "I am. That's why I do this. You boys are me, Paris. I would do anything, anything, to see you become the best. Even though I'm no longer in the picture."

Paris chest hurt. It was a new feeling. One he hadn't felt before. The type that made it hard to breathe. That trying had you gasping.

He watched her eyes move to the ring on her finger, a gentle look coming to her face as she whispered, "This wasn't how it was supposed to go,"

His eyes were getting blurry but he blinked them furiously back still, some traitorous one fell.

She looked at him now, reaching out to wipe them away before resting her forehead on his. "You're strong, Paris. Keep being that way, for me. And him. Please,"

"I don't want to beg you to send me away," He heard himself say. "I'm sure Marcos already did that, and if you didn't listen to him, mine would be useless. He's cuter than me anyway,"

She let out a chuckle before licking her lips. "Take care of him for me, will you? You're— You're the only one that knows him like I do. He's bound to try hurting himself. Don't let him."

"And you?"

Alex closed her eyes, taking in a small breath before exhaling and staring at him now. "I'd figure myself out. Promise."

~

This was trash, I know, but I made myself have to write once a week, you know, can't let it pass without giving you guys something. I'm a nice person, you know?

I totally expected Paris to smash something and scream, and beg.

Tch. He disappointed me.