Chapter 57 Chapter Fifty-Three
Alex’s point of view
The word heartbroken hung between us like smoke.
I hadn't meant to say it.
It just slipped out, dragged up by the way his mouth trembled when he tried to smile, by the way his eyes looked too bright under the streetlight.
“I’m sorry Demi, I really didn’t mean to hurt you, I care deeply for you”
Demi didn't answer right away. He looked past me instead, down the empty stretch of road, like he was deciding whether to stay or walk.
"Don't," he said finally. "Don't do that."
"Do what?" I asked.
"Act like you care now," he replied quietly. "You don't get to say things like that after what you just did."
"I do care," I shot back.
He laughed, short and sharp. "You grabbed me away from someone who by the way was comforting me, you acted like you were entitled to me, and then you pretend you're confused about why I'm upset?"
"That's not what I meant," I said, running a hand through my hair. "I just, seeing you like that, it freaked me out."
"Why?" he asked. "Why does it freak you out when I'm hurt?"
I opened my mouth, then closed it again.
The answer was right there, pressing against my teeth, but saying it felt dangerous.
"I followed you because I didn't want you thinking I didn't care about you" I said instead.
"And yet," Demi said, meeting my eyes, "you made it very clear in there that you didn't want anyone thinking you cared"
I clenched my jaw.
"Chris was just talking to me," he continued. "He asked if I was okay, he knew I needed a friend with me right now."
"And you were?" I asked choosing to ignore the second part because I knew he was hinting at me.
He shook his head. "No."
The admission landed heavy.
I took a step closer without realizing it. "Why didn't you tell me?"
He stared at me. "Are you fucking serious right now Alex?"
"I mean-" I stopped, frustrated. "You didn't say anything. You just left and I asked you if you were good."
"Because I didn't trust myself to stay," he said. "I didn't trust myself not to say something I couldn't take back."
My stomach twisted. "Like what?"
He hesitated, then looked away. "It doesn't matter anymore"
"Well it matters to me," I insisted.
"That's the problem," he said softly. "It matters to you when it's already too late and when there’s nobody here to witness you actually caring for your best friend."
The streetlight buzzed overhead, flickering once. The sound grated on my nerves.
"I panicked okay," I said again, hating how often I'd used the word already. "Everyone was watching. Chris was taunting me. I just, reacted."
"And reacting means throwing me under the bus? And making everyone think I’m the gay one?" Demi asked.
"No," I said quickly. "It means I'm scared."
He looked back at me then, really looked at me, like he was peeling back layers I'd spent years building.
"Of what exactly?" he asked.
I shrugged helplessly. "Of everything."
"Of people knowing?" he pressed.
"Yes."
"You’re sure? It’s not about you wanting me?" His voice dropped.
I didn't answer.
The silence was answer enough.
Demi let out a slow breath. "Do you know how all this makes me feel?"
I swallowed. "I can guess."
"Try," he said.
I forced myself to meet his eyes. "Like I'm ashamed of you."
He nodded once. "You don’t say."
"But that’s not it," I said desperately. "I'm more ashamed of myself."
"But yet somehow I’m the one paying for it," he replied.
The words stung because they were true.
A car passed at the end of the street, headlights briefly illuminating us.
Instinctively, my shoulders tensed. I shifted my stance, angling my body away just slightly.
Demi noticed immediately.
"There," he said laughing at me. "That. You did it again."
I froze. "Did what?"
"You pulled away," he said. "You didn't even think about it. Someone drove by and you flinched and we’re not even doing anything, we’re just having a conversation like two adults."
I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped. There was no point denying it.
"I've spent my whole life making sure people see me a certain way," I said quietly. "You think that just disappears?" I was getting a bit pissed at him now.
"I'm not asking you to come out, I’m not even saying you’re gay," he replied. "I'm asking you not to hurt me when you're scared."
"I didn't mean to hurt you."
‘And I’m not gay’ I wanted to add but kept my mouth shut.
"But you did," he said again.
He crossed his arms, hugging himself like he was cold. The sight of it made something ache deep in my chest.
"Chris likes you," I said suddenly.
Demi blinked. "What?"
"I can tell," I continued. "The way he looks at you. The way he jumps in. I’m sure he has been waiting for an opening."
"And?" Demi asked.
"And I hate it," I snapped.
"Why?" he asked calmly.
"Because-“ I stopped.
Because the answer was complicated. Because it was ugly and selfish and tied up in things I didn't know how to untangle.
"Because I don't want to lose you," I said finally.
Demi studied my face, searching for something. "Lose me how?"
I hesitated. "To him."
He shook his head. "You don't get to be jealous."
"I know," I said. "But I am."
"That's not fair," he replied. "You don't want me, but you don't want anyone else to have me either."
"That's not true," I protested.
"Then what is it?" he asked. "What am I to you, Alex?"
The question hit me square in the chest.
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Tried again.
"I don't know," I admitted.
The words tasted like failure.
Demi's shoulders slumped just slightly. "Yeah," he said. "That tracks."
I reached out, then stopped myself. Touching him felt wrong when I didn't have answers to give him.
"I saw you with Chris," I said. "And it felt wrong. Like he was stepping into something that's-mine."
"Yours?" Demi echoed.
"I didn't mean it like ownership," I said quickly. "I just meant-what we have."
"What we have," he repeated. "Which you won't name."
I clenched my fists. "Because naming it makes it real."
"And it already is," he said. "At least to me."
Something in his tone made my stomach drop.
"Demi," I said cautiously.
He looked at me, eyes dark and shining. "Do you ever wonder why I put up with this?"
The question caught me off guard. "Because... you want to?"
He laughed softly, sadly. "That's one way to put it."
A knot formed in my chest, tight and painful.
"I need you to answer me honestly," he said. "When you look at me, what do you feel?"
Panic surged.
I searched myself frantically for something solid, something certain.
Want.
Comfort.
Familiarity.
Desire.
Fear.
So much fear.
"I feel like I'm standing on the edge of something," I said slowly. "And if I step forward, I won't be able to go back."
Demi nodded. "And that terrifies you."
"Yes," I whispered.
He closed his eyes briefly, like he was steadying himself.
"Okay," he said. "Then I need to tell you something."
My heart started pounding. "What?"
He hesitated, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket. When he looked up again, his eyes were wet.
"I'm not just hurt because of what you said," he said. "I'm hurt because it confirmed something I've been trying not to admit."
My throat went dry. "What's that?"
"That I care about you way more than you're ever going to be ready for," he said.
The world seemed to tilt.
I stared at him, my mind racing, every instinct screaming to say something, anything, to stop the moment from tipping into something irreversible.
He took a shaky breath. "I think I'm in love with you, Alex."
My heart slammed painfully against my ribs.
And I realized, with terrifying clarity, that I had no idea what to do next.