Smile On His Lips and Cuts On His Hips (Jalex)

Forty Two - And The Ending

The sharp extremes, like everything, seemed better than ennui.

But Alex was somewhere in the middle. He had the dullness punctuated by the pain, and when I was down, even if my bones were too heavy to move and the tears that deformed my cheeks were silent, I still looked at my wrist, imagined the stinging of a blade on my tingling skin. It was always the first solution that my fucked up mind produced.

"Somebody, I think you will. You'll forget someday," I said, more optimistic than confident, wondering if such disturbed brains would ever be willing to let go of that pernicious sensation.

"We will," he corrected, sending me a slight smile.

I coughed out a laugh, eyes dropping to my legs as I altered, "Right. We will. Someday."

"Do you think next year's gonna be better?" Alex said, voice flat, lacking hope but avoiding tilting towards resignation.

"I really fuckin' hope so," I replied, adding thinly, "Don't know if I could take another round of this."

"Oh, you could. Won't have to, with any luck, but you could. This one didn't break you, next one won't." He was oddly matter-of-fact, absolute surety filling his words and strange affection polishing them.

I let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, directing my eyes out the window again and exhaling, "It's gonna be a fuckin' great summer."

___

"So are they dating, or what?" Rian questioned, staring at Flyzik and Grieco off in the distance.

We had been five minutes from our destination when it occurred to me to ask Alex where, exactly, where we going, and he only laughed in response to my delayed inquiry. I got my answer when we rolled into the parking lot of our local mini golf course.

Apparently, Flyzik had randomly mentioned his desire to go mini golfing some time ago, and Grieco recalled this and was hit by inspiration when they were waiting around my car, discussing what to do with the day as Rian and I were locked in our testing rooms. Zack said it was a stupid idea and then agreed, Alex was happy with whatever his friends suggested, and Rian and I got tugged along.

Not that I had a problem with it. I was, according to my general level of sports skills, completely crap at mini golf, but fucking around with my friends in the company of neon golf balls and dragon sculptures was enough to have the reality of summer sinking in, soaking into my skin with the fizzing sun.

The year had left me scarred and removed and stressed, but it was over, and I knew that that had no real significance, that the reprieve from classes wouldn't necessarily make me any happier, that having nothing driving me out of isolation every day could make the indifference infect more of my blood. But, fuck, with the brightness and the laughter and the shimmering air, it was so easy to believe that it would get better.

A foolish idea, really, but, for a couple hours, I found relief in pretending.

Flyzik's ball had flown off the course and into a fountain. Grieco was balanced on its concrete side, leaning out over the bubbling water and trying to hook the ball with his golf club as Flyzik steadied him with hands on his hips. Alex stood behind the pair, either mocking or aiding them.

Rian, Zack, and I looked on, squinting against the sun's intensity. Zack replied, "I think that they're just really close friends, but, y'know, no one is really sure."

Rian let out a "huh" in reply, and I cocked my head towards the far-off pair, saying, "Who do you think would bottom?"

"Oh, definitely Grieco," Zack responded instantly.