Chapter 83 Chapter Seventy-Nine
Omniscient Narrative
The TV droned on in the background, bright and loud and mercifully meaningless.
They had later changed the channel, it was some competition show that Alex didn't recognize, it filled the screen, there were people shouting over each other, dramatic music swelling at moments that didn't deserve it.
His brother flipped channels until his younger sister protested loudly, and they settled on something familiar enough that no one had to pay close attention.
That was the point.
Alex lay back against his pillows, arms folded loosely over his chest.
His older sister sat beside him, knees tucked up, her shoulder pressed against his.
His younger sister leaned against his leg, head resting there like she'd done a thousand times when she was little.
His brother sprawled on the floor, back against the wall, remote balanced on his knee.
They weren't talking much.
And strangely, Alex was grateful for that.
The silence between them wasn't heavy.
It didn't demand anything from him. It just existed, filled with the low hum of the TV and the quiet presence of people who weren't going anywhere.
Alex tried to focus on the screen.
He really did.
But his thoughts kept drifting, slipping through the cracks no matter how hard he tried to anchor them.
A joke on the show would land, and his siblings would laugh, and for a split second Alex would almost laugh too, that is until his chest tightened and the sound died before it could escape.
Because Demi would've laughed at that.
The realization hit him suddenly, sharply, like bumping into something you forgot was there.
Demi had always sat right there, on the edge of Alex's bed, legs swinging, commentary ready for anything stupid playing on the TV.
Demi who talked too much during shows, which was funny because he hated when Alex talked during any shows that they watch.
Demi who always predicted the ending wrong and laughed about it.
Alex swallowed hard.
His older sister noticed immediately.
She didn't say anything, instead she just shifted slightly closer, her shoulder pressing into his more firmly.
It was subtle.
Careful.
Like she knew better than to call attention to the way his breathing had changed.
"Want popcorn?" his brother asked casually, eyes still on the screen.
Alex shook his head. "Nah, I’m good."
"Suit yourself," his brother said, already standing. "I'm getting some anyway."
He disappeared down the hall, leaving the door open behind him.
The room felt quieter without him, the TV suddenly louder in contrast.
Alex shifted slightly, pulling his knees up a bit, curling inward without realizing he was doing it.
Bella glanced up at him. "You sure you're okay?"
Alex hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah."
It wasn't a lie.
It wasn't the whole truth either.
His older sister watched him for a moment longer, then spoke softly. "You know... you don't have to be fine for us."
Alex exhaled slowly through his nose. "I know."
"But you don't want to talk," she added gently.
"Yeah."
She nodded, accepting it without resentment. "That's okay too."
Alex stared at the screen, eyes unfocused. "I just don't want to say something I can't take back. Again, it’s just- it’s too much."
His voice cracked on the last word, so quiet it almost didn't count as sound.
His sister's jaw tightened slightly. She reached over and threaded her fingers through his briefly, giving his hand a small squeeze.
"Sometimes," she said, choosing her words carefully, "the bravest thing is knowing when not to speak."
Alex nodded, throat too tight to respond.
His brother returned with a bowl of popcorn and dropped back down onto the floor. "Miss anything?"
"Nope," his younger sister said. "Just loud people being loud."
"Ah, perfect," his brother muttered.
They settled back into watching.
Time passed slowly.
Alex felt the ache reduce and flow, sometimes dulled by distraction, sometimes surging unexpectedly, like a bruise that hurt more when you forgot it was there.
He laughed once, quietly, at something ridiculous on the screen, and the sound surprised him.
Guilt followed immediately as he thought of Demi.
How can you laugh when he's hurting?
Alex squeezed his eyes shut briefly, then opened them again, forcing himself to breathe.
His sister must have sensed it again because she murmured, "You're allowed to have moments of relief."
He glanced at her. "It feels wrong."
She met his gaze steadily. "It isn't."
The show ended. Another started automatically. No one bothered to change it.
Eventually, his younger sister yawned dramatically and sprawled out more comfortably.
His brother leaned his head back against the bed, eyes half-closed now.
His older sister rested her head against Alex's shoulder, trusting him not to pull away.
Alex didn't.
He stared at the screen, but his mind had drifted far away again.
He wondered what Demi was doing right now.
Was he crying?
Was he surrounded by his own siblings?
Was he replaying the fight the same way Alex was, stuck on the same words, the same moment where everything had gone wrong?
Alex's chest tightened.
‘I miss him’ he thought, not aloud, not yet, but the words formed clearly anyway.
He didn't say it.
But the ache of it stayed, quiet and constant, even as his siblings filled the room with warmth and noise and ordinary comfort.
Alex didn't feel okay.
But he felt loved.
And for now, that was enough. Maybe he just needed to get some rest.