"Lex?"
Jack ventured into the hotel room him best friend was supposed to be staying in. His room was next door, an odd number instead of even one like this, but otherwise seemingly identical. Years ago he'd have thought it was beautiful, with its wide space and plush carpet. Now all the hotel rooms melted into one.
He had no idea where Alex was- when he hadn't turned up at the bar they were meant to meet up at, Jack hadn't been too concerned. Four unanswered calls later, he'd changed his mind.
To make matters worse, Zach and Rian were AWOL too, so no help from them in the case of the missing Gaskarth. Jack hadn't gotten laid in a while, hence the bar, so the thought of his band mates out painting it red turned him into a little green monster. Damn Alex making him miss out on sex.
He pulled out his phone, the screen echoing the same picture I had for the past hour: nothing. Scrolling through his contacts to Alex's goofy profile picture, Jack's finger hovered over the dial icon. What is Alex was asleep, or otherwise... engaged? No, surely he'd have texted his friend so he hadn't sat at the bar for forty minutes like a lemon. Shaking his head, he pressed the button.
Three, four, five rings.
'Hello, you've reached the mailbox of Alex Gaskarth, please leave a -'
He ended the call. Bastard. If he didn't want to be found he wouldn't be.
Sitting in the side of the bed, Jack scratched his head. The subtle buzz the Corona had injected into his system was wearing off fast, and he didn't want it to. He stole a beer from Alex's mini-fridge, fell onto the couch and thought through his options. He couldn't shake off the feeling something was wrong; Alex wasn't the most punctual of friends but Jack knew that if something else had come up, a text at least would have been sent his way.
What if something bad has happened? What if he's comatose or dead? Why am I so worried where he is?
Jack took a swig of the beer. Questions floated around in his brain like molten lava, spreading just as fast and burning twice as hot.
He took another generous swig of his beer, and pondered over the last question. Why was he so worried? It wasn't like Alex was a delinquent, he was fully capable of making decisions. So why was his body coated in ice and dread?
A quick glance at his phone told him nothing had changed since five minutes ago, and the nonchalant silence surrounding Jack was maddening, so he drained his beer and wandered next door to his own room, where he hoped he'd see Alex sat on his couch with that grin on his face. No such luck.
When Jack sat on the side of his own bed, a wave of deja vu washed over him, and he jumped up. It was nearly eleven now, and he decided to take advantage of the loneliness by getting a shower and an early night. Searching for his towel that annoyingly wasn't in the bathroom, he hummed along to his favourite blink-182 song to calm his nerves. Why the fuck was this getting to him so much?
While in the shower, Jack found a way to making his head stop pounding. Thinking of positive scenarios. They had a show tomorrow, and it wasn't unusual for Alex to get little anxiety attacks. Maybe one came on and he went for a walk? Nodding to himself, he switched off the shower and jumped out, his body still humming from the small quantity of alcohol floating around in his system.
He dressed quick, not bothering to the dry the nooks and crannies that usually made him crazy and exited the quant room.
But then his back was against the wall and a body was pressed tightly against his own; the smell of tequila and lime assaulted his senses as hands danced along the sides of his body. His eyes were closed, probably the beer dashing his reflexes a little but he couldn't help but feel like this wasn't an attack. Opening them as slow as he dared, familiar brown eyes met his own. Alex.
