I'll admit I'm getting a little bit nervous. Alex is lying on my sofa silently, refusing to meet my eye. If he looks at me, his gaze strays to my neck for a moment before he closes his eyes and holds his breath.
I've never been scared of him before. I don't want to start now.
He would call me stubborn for it. But that's just me.
When I offer to go get a bag of donor blood from the hospital for him this time I'm not joking. One of my friends is a porter at the hospital. He would ask questions, but it's not hard to get him to shut up.
Alex shakes his head and looks like he's about to start yelling for me suggesting it again, but he just growls and settles back on the sofa.
"I don't want to. It's disgusting," he mutters after a moment. But his stomach is rumbling quietly and I give him a look that says he's being stupid. It's a look he knows well. Can't say he often pays attention to it, though.
"It'll save us both a lot of trouble if you just do it. It doesn't have to be donor blood. Hell, you can drink from me, if you have to, I don't care." I snap. His defiance gets wearing after a while and though I'm used to it, we both know he's just making it a lot harder on himself.
"I'm not drinking from you!" he shouts, glaring up at the ceiling. "I'm not going to drink from anyone." I sigh and slap a hand to my forehead, exasperated.
"Alex, if you don't do it now, you're just gonna end up killing someone," I keep my tone even. There's no point in yelling at Alex, he just gets pissed off and stops listening altogether. He turns his head and looks at me.
"I'm not going to kill anyone, either," he tries to match my calm tone of voice, but it shakes and I can see he's trying to hold back tears. I really want to hug him again.
I stand up and move over next to him, kneeling next to the sofa. He holds his breath again and looks back at the ceiling, trying to pretend I'm not here, but I reach out a hand, gently turning his head so he has to look at me.
"Get off me, you poof," he mutters and I smile.
"Listen to me, Alex," I say, taking my hand back, "we've always been there for each other, right? Ever since we met each other." He nods hesitantly. "And I'm here for you now, just like you were there for me," I tell him quietly. "Remember how we met?" I laugh.
It was ridiculous, the way we met.
It had been a pretty average day for me up until Alex came along. He was in the year above me at school, and if I'm honest, he had been my eye candy for about a year before he even noticed me. Majorly embarrassing crush. I wouldn't admit it for ages, but he figured it out in the end.
Anyways, some guys in his year had decided it would be a good idea to pick on me all day. Apparently they didn't like me being gay.
Alex didn't like that. He stuck up for me. He didn't even know me. After those guys had disappeared, he'd shoved his hands in his pockets and told me to "take more care of yourself, homo," half smiled at me with a shrug and walked off.
Sticking up for me like that had cost him his good reputation, though. He told me he didn't mind, that I was a better friend than them. I was never convinced, but we've always stuck together since then. So why stop now, eh?
He nods, and I can see in his eyes he's remembering it too.
"I'm sorry, Max," he murmurs after a while. I look at him questioningly and I'm not sure he sees, but he goes on anyway. "I dragged you into all of this. You shouldn't have to be dealing with this," he tells me. Resisting the urge to hit him for being so stupid, I just smile.
"I'll live. You know me. You'll never get rid of me," I laugh.