Chapter 71 Chapter Sixty-Seven
Alex’s point of view
I’m starting to lose it.
Not in the dramatic way, not in a crash out way, no, I’ve even started losing time, but more in these strange gaps where I'd realize I'd been staring at nothing, thinking about everything, and somehow twenty minutes had passed.
It happened in class, I’d be so lost in thought I would have the teacher call out to me or have a classmate draw my attention.
Even at home. I’ve had my family complain about how lost I look, how I never seem to be around even though I was seated there.
Even with Claire sitting right next to me, talking, I won’t really pay her any attention, i would find myself nodding while I absorb absolutely none of what she was saying.
I had this continuous question that was printed into my head.
What are they to each other?
Sure Chris and Demi didn't advertise anything.
But that almost made it worse, because at least with Claire and I we were open about being in a relationship, but with these two, they weren’t saying anything, and it was honestly pissing me off.
If they'd been obvious, holding hands, kissing, labeling it, I could've forced myself to accept it.
Pain had edges when you could define it.
This didn't.
I watched them from a distance I pretended was accidental.
In the hallway, Demi leaned into Chris to whisper something, his mouth close to Chris's ear.
Chris laughed softly, head dipping, their shoulders brushing for just a second too long to feel meaningless.
My stomach twisted.
At lunch, Demi handed Chris his drink without asking, already knowing what he wanted.
That familiarity hit me harder than anything physical could have.
He used to do that with me, every lunch he would grab the drink he knew I liked, even though he would always caution me about how too much sugar was bad for my body.
Was he also giving the same scolding to Chris?
The thought came uninvited and cruel.
Claire noticed my distraction again. She always did and sometimes it didn’t seem fair to her.
"You're not even here," she said quietly one afternoon as i drove her home.
"I am," I insisted.
She told me to stop driving.
"No," she said. "You're not."
I turned to face her, irritation flaring defensively. "What do you want me to say?"
"I want you to tell me what's wrong," she said. "Because something is. And pretending it's not doesn't make me feel better, it just makes me feel stupid."
Guilt crashed over me, she was right, I wasn’t treating her fair and it made me feel sick internally.
"You're not stupid Claire," I said. "This is just... stuff."
"Stuff? Stuff I'm not allowed to know?"
I hesitated.
That hesitation said everything.
Her shoulders dropped slightly, like she'd been holding them up on sheer hope. "Okay."
I started the car and drove her to her house, she got down and didn’t even tell me goodbye, didn’t give me a kiss on the cheeks and didn’t tell me to call her if I had arrived safely.
And that night, she didn't text me goodnight also.
I noticed immediately yet I didn’t bring it up, I deserved it, she’s completely right to be angry at me.
At home, the concern became harder to dodge.
My mom started asking me how school was every day, really asking, watching my face like she was waiting for something to crack.
My sisters stopped joking around me altogether and they stopped bringing up Demi, I guess they’ve figured whatever was going on with me was because of Demi.
"You're miserable," my older sister said one evening as we stood in the kitchen.
"I'm fine."
She laughed humorlessly. "No, you're not. You barely talk, you don't eat, you don't even smile anymore."
"I smile."
"When?" she challenged.
I didn't answer.
"You're breaking something," she continued more softly. "I just don't know if it's yourself or someone else." It felt as if she knew what was going on, but I can’t allow myself to think that.
I went to my room and shut the door without responding.
I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, phone in my hand.
I wanted to text Demi.
Not to say anything specific, just... something. A joke?, or a meme? Or a memory we both shared and humoured, I wanted to talk to him about anything and it hurts that I can’t.
And I didn't.
Instead, I scrolled through old messages.
I miss texting him. The texts just consists of me sharing random reels/videos and memes and him telling me to cleanse my feed/fyp.
I hated myself for being the reason why we’re like this.
If I had just let it go the first time we slept together and Demi had pleaded with me to forget that day, if only I had not introduced this friends with benefits nonsense.
Maybe, maybe we would still be as close as we used to.
So I had no right to be jealous even if Demi and Chris has something going on.
The worst part was the jealousy didn't feel clean.
It wasn't just about Demi.
It was about Chris.
Chris, who was kind in a way I'd never allowed myself to be, growing up it was something I always envied about him, he always had something to be happy about.
Yes my parents were loving people, they gave my siblings and I whatever we wanted but I still didn’t feel all that happiness while growing up.
Chris, who didn't flinch at closeness in public, but Chris was openly comfortable in his sexuality so it didn’t matter to him.
Chris, who could give Demi support in daylight without fear of being seen and I don’t blame him, he’s the son of two gay dads, he was used to not caring about what the outside world thought of him.
I wish I could be like Chris for Demi, I really wish i can, but I know it’s not possible.
Days later and I started avoiding Claire.
Not intentionally, not at first. But every conversation felt heavy with things I couldn't say. Every touch felt wrong, like I was borrowing comfort I hadn't earned.
When she kissed me, I didn't pull away.
But I didn't lean in either.
"You don't look at me anymore," she said one night when I stayed over, her voice barely above a whisper.
I closed my eyes.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," I admitted, I was too tired to lie.
She swallowed. "I think I do."
That scared me enough to change the subject, what if she can see through me.
.
At school the next day, I saw Demi laugh, and I mean really laugh at something Chris said. His head tipped back, eyes crinkling, completely unguarded.
Something inside me shattered.
I turned away before anyone could see my face.
I didn't understand this.
I didn't understand why seeing Demi happy hurt more than seeing him sad had.
I didn't understand why my heart felt like it was mourning something I'd never allowed myself to claim.
That night, after everyone else was asleep, I finally broke.
I lay on my bed, lights off, phone face-down on my chest. The house was quiet in that deep, late-night way that made thoughts louder.
I pictured Demi the way he'd looked with Chris that day.
Content. Chosen.
My throat tightened.
Tears came without warning, it was silent, hot, and humiliating.
I pressed my hand over my mouth to keep from making a sound, curled slightly inward like I could protect myself from my own feelings.
"I don't know why this hurts," I whispered into the dark.
I cried for him.
Just quietly, the way you cry when you don't think you're allowed to.
I cried because he was slipping away.
Because he looked happier without me.
Because I didn't know what that said about me.
My chest ached so badly it felt physical, like grief without a name.
"I didn't even choose you," I whispered, tears soaking into my pillow. "So why does it feel like I lost you?"
The question hung unanswered.
I stayed there a long time, staring into the dark, heart breaking in a language I didn't understand yet.
And somewhere deep down, beneath all the denial and fear, a truth stirred, quiet, insistent, terrifying.
This wasn't jealousy.
This wasn't confusion.
This was something more.