Balloons

There’s the hesitation, there’s the flick of a cigarette among all the confetti already chucked and destroyed under the feet. And soon enough there will be Alex who will nag that of course we will be seen as a couple even if we had both decided that life is tough and after Alex breaking up again, I had decided or rather my own lips mumbled and I’m sure my facial expression was far from something which I could’ve hidden deep down and I stuttered, but daft Turner didn’t even pick up on anything, he just smiled and rolled his eyes to proceed nagging about the lack of a date, even if now he had a valentine. 

But then it’s not just, hey, Al, I really mean it, I’m your date tonight and shut the fuck up with the sulking and checking out the birds around. And he’s still not arriving and I just keep tapping my foot impatiently holding myself from alcohol on an empty stomach because he’s always late and the fact that he’ll remain late doesn’t seem like a good idea to mix with alcohol. 

When do I wind the clocks back? When was the time I should’ve asked him to date me, when nothing had happened and my hands had just itched and he had entirely polluted my existence up to the point that there had been days when I would just lay on the wrong side of the bed and I’d stare at the ceiling wondering if the paint had devils which would take me away, that had been after being entirely pissed, but he had still been in my thoughts. And so he comes in, his hair much longer after all the recording he’s been doing and I just smile. Sometimes I feel like we’re beyond everything, but I still want simple pleasures with him which he sulks about. 

I watch him as he reads the menu.

How many dates like these have we had? 

Maybe if my birthday was on Valentine’s I’d always have a date with him, if I were a child I’d ask him to, because you should fulfill the wishes of the birthday boy. I feel myself sweat and I can’t even concentrate on what should I choose, I think I have even successfully forgotten what do I usually order here, so I just keep staring at the salads for a start, hoping that my mind will close up for a bit and I would be able to order one. Alex notices me fidget, gives a weak smile and dunks himself back into choosing. If I was as calm as he is.

But then that would mean one less occasion to see him. 

Fear still seems to pierce me. I keep looking at him and I’m scared as if I have never talked to him before, what do I talk of, because whenever he was with Alexa I’d wonder why do they even talk as I’d prefer to be in silence instead of talking to her, they bring the wine and I just take a sip even if I regret ordering something so light, I’d rather take a shot and believe the illusion that like a blanket it would give me warmth and strength. 

I wait for him to talk of Alexa, how he misses her, instead he just right after we order starts talking about the recording and I had heard the album already even if there a few final steps to be done and I just nod, because it does sound great, amazing just like anything he had ever touched. I wonder why does he not speak of his ex when everything seems to be forced with some plastic love which people seem to hold and sometimes I wonder what do other people feel, what does choke them at night and if they have ever felt something because they give up on love so easily?

People give up too easily and maybe I cling too much, hoping on everything, on small gestures which seem to be plastered to my mind. I feel so scared that all my phrases consists of a few words. 

We even start eating and it’s all Alex who is talking. I don’t even know how to start. I don’t know how to end when I can’t even tell what the ending will be. I just keep watching him, my entire being frozen and at the same time all I want to do is to kiss him, that’s the only move I’d do if someone would guarantee me that I wouldn’t be pushed away. 

“Sorry that I stole you off for Valentine’s, Turner.” I grin softly, I lie, I don’t feel sorry, I am selfish I want him for today, for every day, the fear that he will leave me captures me before I even have him. The fear seems even selfish as I don’t think he’d want me back and maybe he even feels sorry for me. I didn’t come out but I feel as if only the ones who are fully blind will not see who do I prefer. 

“I thought you were my valentine.” Alex grins lightly and takes a sip of wine. I feel myself shake a little. Small gestures which mean nothing seems to ruffle my mind and turn me against my self. I cling onto him, I cling onto the belief that he might love me back. Stop giving me false hope and I feel like I could even say it out loud. 

“Well, for tonight...” I pause. I try to grin, but I am far too nervous. “I guess I am. First and last time a bloke for Valentines, eh, Al?”

I say and I keep poking the meat with a fork far too much, nervous and anxious, I believe I’ve reached the point where I will never have to courage to ever touch this subject as well and all I hear is small laughter coming from Alex. 

“Oh fuck no.” He keeps laughing. “Of course not, shit, I thought Matt went on and told everyone.”

I nearly drop the fork. My mind is blank and I just raise my eyes at him. Fear seems to be thin with hope eating the fabric as if it were a hungry, blind moth. Just because he might just be interested in men just gives the fact that he might be attracted rather than actually give evidence that he is. 

“Oh, I never thought you...” I pause.

“Were into men?” Alex smirks and then tries to hide a frown by looking at his nearly finished plate. “Changes then the tiles of the game?”

“No.” I say nearly instantly and he keeps looking at me. “It doesn’t. Well, it does, but.”

Alex is confused. 

“I just never realized you were...” I think we are blindly finishing each other’s throughts.

“Into men.” He says.

“Yeah.” I just keep poking my barely touched food and I’m sure Alex wants to comment on that, but he doesn’t, instead he just looks around and focuses on the balloons let loose on the ceiling with all the shades of red and pink, a few gold ones most likely left from New Year celebrations. 

Is this the part where I come out? Is this the part where I tell him I love him? What do I say? I can’t eat and the piece of meat has been on my fork so long that I just put the fork down and I can’t even distinguish voices as I just stare at Alex, who keeps taking little sips of wine. 

“Is it Valentine’s day when you tell the truth?”

“Christmas.” I say barely audibly, but Alex seems to have plans of his own.

“Whatever.” He’s not drunk. “I’m into blokes too.”

I don’t say so I’m I.

Some words are better than coming out.

“I love you. Go do whatever you want with it. I fucking love you.” He says it and my world collapses or rather, it seems to have managed to shine brighter, something close to the shine he always had for me. 

I don’t say I’m into blokes. I don’t ask him anything.

“I love you too. That’s why I invited you over, that’s why I always invite you.” And I manage to keep my mouth shut about all the girlfriends and the flings he’s always mentioned. I just actually manage to be shaking and grinning, both of us grinning and I even stand up and I yank him by his chin to kiss him. My whole body is swollen and I’m sure our lips will be bruised and his hair is in the way.

But I fucking love him.

We pull away. Suddenly, I’m not scared I’m excited over the fact that I might just be with him if I manage to open my eyes to the fact that the feeling was always mutual. 

-

Sorry it's a delayed Valentine's fic, but here it is :D and I should have the next chapter of Arabella up soon:)