505 (milex)

too early, too soon

Two months later
—

There he was again, alone. All he had to drink today was a bottle of Jack Daniels and a whole pack of cigarettes and it was only noon. He couldn't sleep. He hasn't been able to sleep since he saw Miles last, and that was a month ago. He didn't know where his phone was and he frankly didn't give a shit. In order to keep everyone away from bothering him he had to start locking his bedroom door. He didn't care. If they weren't Miles, he didn't want to talk to them. He constantly kept his curtains pulled shut, wearing the same clothes for weeks, and not showering for days. Taylor tried to talk to him but he'd only shut her out. He was getting real tired of her. But he didn't mind her most of the time. He didn't care if she spent his money as long as she'd bring him back bottles of whiskey and packs of cigarettes.

He hadn't spoken a word in days. He didn't cry. He didn't speak. He didn't write. He didn't read. He didn't sing. He didn't sleep. He didn't think. He did nothing. Although, he did recognise his insensitivity. He would look at old pictures of him and his exes; he felt nothing. He was becoming scared of himself, as if he was loosing all connection with the world. He wanted to feel alive again because surely he was dead if he wasn't feeling a damn thing...
He regretted everything. He nearly cried but didn't soon after he did the damned thing with a piece of glass from an old whiskey bottle. He was losing himself. He didn't want this.

He felt his phone buzzing, from somewhere but he didn't feel like trying to find it. Then it buzzed again. And again. And again.
"Fucking piss off." His first words in two days were him cursing his own phone, cheerful. He dug in his bed trying to find the source of the god awful buzzing sound, eventually finding it.
At first glance he thought he saw 'Mi' but  on second glance he realised it just said 'Tay'. He tossed his phone onto the floor and pulled his filthy sheets over his frail body, his eyes glazed over as he drifted off, staring up at the ceiling. This was the only way Alex could sleep, his fatigue winning and pulling him into a deep sleep as his body tries to find some sort of energy— even his body is contemplating the will to live.

Miles knocked on the front door repetitively, ringing the doorbell between knocks. He then continues to send texts to Alex's phone but he never receives a reply. Miles has done this nearly every day for the past month and a half but Alex never seems to want to see him. "Okay fine, I'll just wait then.." Miles sat down on the stairs in front of Alex's door, laying his bouquet of flowers next to him, putting his head in his hands.

Miles so desperately wants to see Alex. God, how he misses him but why doesn't Alex want to see him? Miles hasn't done anything to hurt him? Of course Miles has an extra key but it's not worth it when there's still another door that needs to be unlocked, Alex's bedroom door. Even with Miles calling and knocking on that one, Alex doesn't answer. Miles is always terrified that one day he's going to walk in to see Alex's dead body. Miles' shivers from the horrible thought.

"Nope, that's it." He stands up and fishes in his pocket for his keys and puts them into the lock. Once he gets into the house he sighs, looking at all of the wilting flowers in their vases, cluttering the whole living room, some of their petals shrivelled and covering the floor. Some of the vases contained rank water that could probably kill someone if they drank it. He takes the new bouquet and tries to find a vase to put them in. He's begun to use cups since they ran out of vases about ten bouquets ago. He could throw away the old and foul smelling flowers and use their cases to put his flowers in but he'd rather Alex see all of them.
He lays down on the couch and pulls a blanket over himself, staring at the ceiling until he falls asleep. Still no sound coming from the bedroom.