The Sickness Is the Cure (Jalex)

35 - Not the Same

*January 2*

Alex sipped his coffee, scalding drink burning past his tongue as contrasting snowflakes sticking to the lid tingled on his lips. He winced, the hot liquid startling his nerves, bones chilled through in the winter air and  unprepared for the heated shock.

New Years had passed, though people seemed to decline accepting the ending of the holiday season,  failing to conform to the demeanors and activities expected to be carried out during the normal part of the year. Straggling Christmas lights still clung to gutters, coffee shops continued to put peppermint in everything they were selling, and the sky brushed the world with white, creating the perfect backdrop for  painting pristine holiday memories.

Alex was sick of it all, sitting sadly on a snow splattered bench, watching life go on from his stationary stance. He was all bundled up, bright blond hair that fell dull in the world's white glow barely peeking out from under the edges of his beanie, chin tucked into a scarf, gloved hands drinking in the heat of his coffee. The layers of fabric and knitted warmth did next to nothing to combat the cold, and despite the precautions against January winds and gray sky weather that Alex had learned to take from growing up in chilly Baltimore, he was shivering, shoulders cold with only air pressing down on them and snowflakes dusting over them.

He didn't particularly know what he was doing, gazing at the monotone world in freezing temperatures, alone in a little park. Alex had no reason to be there, really, and should surely prefer to be inside where the wind wasn't biting at his cheeks and pinching them pink; where a boiling cup wasn't his only source of heat. But Alex was tired of being confined, eyesight only alternating to land on the grungy textured walls of his apartment, sleek colors of Zack's, or zooming neon lights of Catalyst. At least the frost crunching under his slippery sneakers was a nice break from worn carpets and the beer-spill floor that no one ever bothered to clean because it was invisible under the dim lights.

Normally, out in public, Alex was oblivious to most of the world, skipping along in his happy bubble, plugged in ear buds supplying him with cheer and tunes, motivation and meaning. Lately, though, the man had become an observer rather than a participant, looking with lacking eyes upon the smiling faces and red-green surrounding him, wondering what had managed to go wrong and prevent him from jumping into the festivities like usual. Of course, this contemplation only lasted for about half a second, smart mind instantly zeroing in on the person who’d rubbed the shine from Alex’s spirit, intentionally or otherwise. Lacking the spark that was supposed to fuel himself, Alex had been searching for it in other people, acutely tuning into everything and using his keen gaze to appreciate the details he’d always missed.

Alex had, until those couple months ago, been too caught up in himself to stop and notice the clump of sound created when snow crashed out of trees or the way how high people’s shoes stepped above the ground when they walked was directly related to the sincerity of their smiles. Like, for example, the bouncing woman bumbling down the path before Alex who shot him an authentic, crooked toothed grin’s heels’ were barely scraping the snow. Alex returned the kind look with a weak turn up of the lips, wishing he could bottle some of her happiness into a syringe and inject it as a drug.   

He was tired. Hadn’t been sleeping well in his stiff, empty bed between impersonal sheets. Didn’t want to go on like this, watching reality rather than being a part of it. Couldn’t continue alone, Zack’s constant support and his friends’ doing little to provide the company he needed to feel included.

Sighing softly, Alex propped his coffee precariously on the wrought iron armrest next to him, paper cup teetering on the falling off flecks of black that revealed the rust underneath. Alex had been seeing metaphors in everything, and gazed at the tired metal with a critical eye, thinking over whether or not the true iron red polished away by shining gloss was an improvement. He felt like the idea could go both ways with him and Jack – his moronically stubborn lover had ever so slowly let his fake front chip away, and the rust of their relationship that Alex had hidden was caused by his own desperate, idiotic actions. So they finally made it down to the reality, and everything fell apart. Alex was starting to think that the truth was the worst they could have done.