Hey guys, I know its been awhile. But I recently got some inspiration to continue writing. Not beta read, so if there are any mistakes, please let me know. Enjoy the chapter and feel free to comment!
He's close to passing out when they finally make it to the cabin. Carter isn't sure why he expected it to be some type of cozy log cabin, but he's still disappointed to see the dirty, dilapidated hazard ahead of them. The only value in the shack was the lakefront property it was built on. But he's not in a position to complain as Alex helps him through the door and into the cluttered kitchen. They've been quiet the entire walk, Alex still glancing around anxiously and Carter clueless about what to say. If anything, he feels worse now than he did earlier, inflammation slowly putting pressure on the debris still in his back. He wonders how much of it was from his beloved car and how much of it was from the train itself. He mourns that car and memories of Terry it held, but he knows that his parents will just scold him before proceeding to buy him another. You know, if he lives long enough for that. He muses on if there's an alternate universe or some shit where the plane didn't go down, where they made it to Paris safe and sound. He can imagine sneaking away from the tour group to wander the streets of Paris with Terry. Alex would be hanging out with Tod and his brother, and Clear would be trying to seem as little as a tourist as possible. Billy would be doing whatever the fuck Billy does, and Ms. Lewiston would be getting drunk on wine and trying to get them to speak only French.
He's moderately confused when Alex drags him to a bedroom. The other teenager leaves him propped up against the doorframe as he removes the dusty sheet covering the bed. Surprisingly, the bed is made and looks pretty clean. It has a thick and faded quilt, something obviously hand made by someone's grandma years ago. The pillows look kind of lumpy but haven't gone completely flat yet.
"Lay down on your stomach, I need to look at your back," Browning mutters, and it takes Carter a second to realize the other was talking to him. He wants to argue just to be an asshole, but he needs all the help he can get right now. He manages to make it the short distance to the bed alone, falling onto it with a grunt. He hisses as it jostles the shit in his back, but at least laying down like this didn't put any tension on his injuries. He startles when Alex appears out of nowhere and grabs the back of his jacket, pulling it off Carter gently. After that, the blue eyed boy pushes his shirt up and then over his head, so his shirt is still on the front of his body but his back is exposed. He wishes he could see Browning's face as he takes in the damage, but the small gasp that he lets out says enough.
"Holy shit man. What the fuck, Carter?" He exhales, hands hovering but not touching. Carter grunts in response, not sure what the other wants from him.
"I'll get some tweezers and try and get most of this shit out. Don't think I can find any Tylenol, but there should be some rubbing alcohol or something here somewhere so it doesn't get infected." It takes some effort to lift his hand and give the other a thumbs up, but its worth it if he doesn't have to vocalize anything. Talking to him would make this real, would confirm the shit list that Alex was currently next up on. He lays there, awareness fading in and out, static filling his ears, only broken by the sound of Browning moving things around. Its soothing and everything just seems blurry around the edges, soft and comfortable. He feels like he's stoned, keeping his eyes open seems to be impossible.
"Carter? Come on, Carter," a voice pleads, fading in and out as if far away, "Carter!" He jolts at that, floored back into reality and adrenaline fueling him.
"Shit man, didn't mean to scare you. But don't fall asleep yet, I need to make sure you didn't get a concussion or are going into shock or something," the other boy fusses, moving to sit on the bed next to him. Carter tenses as the other comes into his sight and meets his eyes in the process. Browning looks half crazed and exhausted, but he seems to calm down a bit after they make eye contact. Those eyes, they make him feel like a deer in the headlights, hypnotized against his will to stay still before getting smeared all over the road. Those blue spotlights light him up, search him for something and then always look away in disappointment when they don't find it. He watches as the other breaks eye contact to look him up and down, focusing back on his back after a quick scan. Browning's face contorts as he takes it in again, something worried yet awed, horrified yet fascinated. It sends a chill up his spine, which has the other boy glancing back at his face before looking away pointedly, expression being schooled into something more determined. He closes his eyes as the tweezers approach his back, squeezing them shut in anticipation of pain. And there's pain, there's so much fucking pain, but there's also the feeling of Alex's hand on his side, as if that could keep him in place if he began to spasm. His hand is cold, yet to Carter it feels like a brand. It continues like this for what feels like eons, yet could only be seconds. All he can feel is the cold air on his exposed back, the sharp pain well something is removed, the dull pain of clotted wounds and bruises, and that hand that seems to burn him. Through flesh and muscle and bone, it burns until there's nothing left but Alex Browning and what was once Carter Horton.
"You okay?" He opens his eyes slightly, squinting as he looks at Browning. The other looks at him and he starts to make some sort of half hearted confirmation when Alex pulls out a particularly deep shard of metal. Instead, he finds his eyes widening and a strangled sort of groan leaving his vocal cords. Its somewhere between pained and euphoric, a noise that he doesn't think he's ever made before. Browning's pupils seem to dilate as he takes in the noise and whatever expression is on Carter's face. He looks amazed yet surprised before something sharp settles in his eyes. It looks something like hunger, and it has his heartrate speeding up. Maintaining eye contact, Alex slowly reaches with the tweezers towards his back once more, quickly pulling out a small shard of glass. Something deep and guttural, like a growl, vibrates its way through his chest in response to the twinge of pain, to the look in the other boy's eyes. There's something electric in the air between them, like a live wire. Its just like in his kitchen when Alex had leaned in towards him, moving with something like intent.
He imagines what it would be like to kiss the mess of a high schooler next to him, wonders if his lips would be dry and rough from how the other constantly bites at them. But then the image of Alex and Clear making out with tears running down their faces hits him like a physical punch. And like that, the moment is over as something ugly burrows in his chest. He scowls, close to sneering, as he looks away sharply. He can basically feel the confusion and indignation radiating off the slighted teenager, but he doesn't care. There was nothing between them, Alex himself had made sure of that. Besides, Carter wasn't like that, couldn't be like that. He was straight, he had loved the girl he had recently lost, and most importantly, he felt nothing but a sort of disturbed curiosity about the other. Browning was next on the list, and even if he survived, nothing would ever occur between them. It was just the shared trauma that seems to pull them together, just like it pulls the entire group of survivors together (or at least the ones that are left).
Tweezers return to hesitantly plucking debris out of his open wounds, and Carter grinds his teeth whenever a sound tries to leave his throat. Browning assures that he's almost done when he goes to pull something free, but it doesn't budge, instead just catching on the clot trying to close the wound. Carter involuntary arches his back as pain shoots down his spine.
"Sorry, Carter. This one is really in there, I need to get a better angle," Browning muses, sounding very unapologetic. He doesn't quite catch on to what the other means until the body next to him is moving closer, the blue eyed boy swinging a leg over him and coming to a stop on top of Carter, basically sitting in the small of his back (which was thankfully just scratched up).
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Browning?" he grinds out, speaking for the first time since they arrived at this shithole. It feels like giving in, like losing some kind of battle. His voice comes out harsh and scratchy, likely from all his screaming earlier. It should hurt, but it doesn't even register in comparison to the pain coming from his shredded skin and muscle.
"Like I said, I need a better angle to get this last one. And we're back to Browning now?" And with that, the other grabs on tight with the tweezers and yanks. For a moment Carter feels nothing, like he's in shock, and then a pain like he was just stabbed hits him. Browning leans to show him a piece of twisted metal that was once part of his car, but was now covered in blood and globs of clots and skin. He takes it from the other with a sick sense of fascination, turning it over in his hand to look it over.
"Should get a tetanus shot sometime soon," Browning prods verbally, something mean like when he shouted that wished Carter had been on the plane. He doesn't give him time to recover before he's pouring something on his back. From the way it feels like he was just set on fire, he guesses its some form of disinfectant. He thinks he may have screamed, but he honestly can't tell. All he knows is that his back arches again and that the piece of metal in his hand ends up falling on the floor.
"Shit! You okay?" And like that, he's back to being all worried and concerned. Carter feels like he's getting whiplash. But with how bad his temper was, he didn't really have room to talk about anyone else's mood swings. And Alex is currently the equivalent of a frayed wire, one wrong move from starting a fire.
"Just hold on a little bit longer, I just need to bandage you up now," he soothes, cold hands running lightly over Carter's back, checking for any missed metal or glass. He weakly nods, letting his head drop back onto the bed afterwards. He's panting like he just ran a mile, and he can feel the sweat on the back of his neck. Once the other stops moving, Carter thinks he's done, but Browning doesn't move, remaining straddled on his lower back. He feels the urge to roll him off, but he knows that he doesn't really have the strength to do much right now.
"So, you ready to talk now?" It comes out determined, but there's an anxious edge to the words.
"What's there to talk about?" he mutters bitterly, trying to shut down this conversation. Something like panic is crawling up his back, fear and anger beginning to boil in his gut.
"I don't know, how about whatever is going on between us? You fucking bullied me before all this, and then you gave me your jacket. You let me into your house, but then you shut me down. You tried to kill us all, but then you protected me," Alex was almost yelling with how frustrated he was before pausing for a moment, continuing much softer, "Your back is like this because of me. And then whatever was happening earlier, before you suddenly snapped and looked like you wanted to punch me. Carter, I need you to help me understand."
He doesn't know what to do, how to feel, what to say. He doesn't know what he wants. Images fly through his mind, a movie reel of moments. Terry sitting in his passenger seat and smiling, blue eyes staring through him blankly, Alex in his kitchen, flight 180 exploding in the sky, Alex underneath of him, Clear holding hands with Alex, Terry screaming at him, Alex, Alex, Alex. Everything comes back to Alex Browning. Everything he hates, everything he's ever wanted, comes back to this freak, this nobody who started screaming the plane was going to crash, this boy who has saved his life twice now. He feels like he's on some sort of carousel, thoughts swirling round and round until everything blurs.
"What do you want from me, Alex? I can't do this, I don't know how." It comes out like a plead. He doesn't know how to be anything different. All he's ever known is fear, anger, and blue eyes. He wishes he had a bottle of liquid courage, of liquid numbness. This was everything that he had been trying to avoid and deny since he saw the fireball in the sky.
"There's always been something between us, Carter. Even before flight 180, there was something there. For me, its always been you, Carter. You were the only person who's ever looked at me and saw me, not the version of me that you think I am, but me." And goddamn if that isn't how Carter feels about Alex as well. They had always been like magnets, helplessly repulsed and then attracted to each other. But he couldn't compare to Clear, who could understand Alex in a way he can't dream of, who can literally feel what he is feeling.
"What about Clear and your thing with her? I know-" he tries to get out, but is cut off by the blue eyes boy.
"Clear wanted something to hold onto, and for some reason she decided it should be me. And I needed a friend, since all of mine are dead or think I'm a monster. But then she's telling me about her shitty home life and we're crying 'cause life is fucking unfair when she kisses me out of nowhere. And I'm sitting there like a statue, because I don't want to hurt her but I've never felt that way about her. It felt natural to hold hands, we both just needed some sort of anchor, some proof that we're still alive." He can't deny how a weight seems to lift from his chest when he listens to the other's explanation. Something like hope, tampered by guilt, begins to take its place instead.
"Get off of me, Alex."
"Carter, please-"
"I want to be able to look at you," spills from his mouth, frustrated but passionate. It makes the other pause for a moment before slowly sliding off of his back and onto the bed next to him. He can't really do much aside from turning onto his side in his current state, but at least it allows him to face the other. His shirt is tangled around his shoulders and caught under him, so he puts in the extra effort to pull it all the way off. When he's done making himself comfortable, Carter finally looks at Alex. He's immediately flattered to find the other's eyes tracing his newly exposed upper half. The other boy leisurely maps out his body, from his biceps to his pecs to his flat stomach. While he doesn't really have abs, Alex doesn't seem disappointed if his hooded eyes are any indication.
"My eyes are up here," he teases, chuckling when Alex's eyes dart up to meet his, embarrassed to have been caught up in his staring.
"You're right," is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, causing the other's eyes to widen in disbelief, "Its always been this way between us, some force that was always pulling us together. Its always been you too, Alex. Terry was my best friend, the one constant in my life, but I was never in love with her. I could tell that she was hoping that one day I would finally feel for her like she did for me, and maybe I could have if I had never met you. I may not know about your life, not about your childhood or what your favorite movie is, but somehow I know you." Alex's eyes seem to shine, the wide smile on his face seemed to warm Carter like it was a ray of sunshine. He was awake, he was aware, and he was here because of him, for him. For some reason, he felt just as drawn to Carter as he was to the other. They had spent so much time circling each other that this didn't feel real.
"I didn't know you could be so profound, where were you hiding that brain of yours?" he teases, and Carter retaliates with a snort and a gentle punch to the other's arm. His back hurts and he feels like shit, but maybe this was all worth it in some way. They were living on stolen time, and Death was coming to claim what it was owed. And this blue eyed idiot was next. Carter had only been skipped because Alex pulled him out of his car, and it would come for him again at some point. He's scared to die, just as much as he used to be if not more, but he was terrified that he wouldn't be able to intervene and save Alex when the time comes. Hell, its probably watching them now and making some sort of plan for how to get him.
He doesn't push down the urge to reach out and cup Alex's face, the other reciprocating the motion to cup his face as well. Carter wonders if his touch feels just as electric to Alex as his touch feels to him. His breath is stolen away when the blue eyed boy turns his face to press a kiss to Carter's palm. He's had sex with many girls, including Terry, and yet this was somehow the most intimate he'd ever felt with someone. He can't move, can barely breathe, as the hand on his face begins to move. It slides from his cheek to his neck to his chest, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He doesn't know how to react to this, to a guy feeling him like this, but its Alex and despite the fact that its a foreign touch, he won't stop him this time. The other moves closer and closer until their faces are inches apart. They hover like that for a moment, each of them making sure that the other is okay with this, before both of them close the gap.
Like that, he's kissing Alex Browning. The other boy is enthused but inexperienced, so Carter takes control. Both of their lips are chapped, Alex is a little slobbery, and there's an undertone of blood, but its the best damn kiss he's ever had. They transition to full on making out, only ever pulling away for a single breath of air before they're on each other again. He isn't sure when his hands moved, but now he has a hand on the back of Alex's neck and another on his back. There's a tight grip on one of his exposed arms, and a palm on his chest. Testing the water, he slides his hand from Alex's back to his ass, squeezing it and pulling the blue eyed boy's hips towards his own. It forces him to arch his back, but from the way he moans into Carter's mouth, he doesn't seem opposed. He can't help but jerk away from the other when Alex's grip on his arm moves to his back.
"Oh shit! Sorry! Did I open anything back up?" Before Carter can respond, the other is basically climbing over him to get a look at his back.
"I'm fine, Alex," he assures, flinching away from any light touches. He doesn't know what it says about him that he's not even mad.
"I'm so sorry, Carter. I wasn't even thinking-" He's cut off when Carter grabs him and drags him back down to their earlier position. However, instead of resuming their making out and grinding on each other, they just lay there together and breathe. Even when he closes his eyes, he can just sense him there, can still taste him on his lips. He can almost feel Alex staring at him, debating whether or not to say something, so he cracks an eye open. It must get the point across because he starts to speak.
"You're my first, you know?" At Carter's confused look, he elaborates, "You were, are, my first crush." It takes him a second to process the info and to formulate a question.
"On a guy, or-"
"On anyone. Since I first saw you, way back in middle school." It makes something possessive boil in him, knowing that he's the only person Alex has ever felt like this about.
"I never felt anything for anyone. My parents didn't give me enough attention or some shit, or maybe it was the way they were always fighting with each other, but I had problems feeling for other people. I always thought; they'll leave me, they'll hurt me. Except for you; I looked at you for the first time and it felt like my world came tumbling down around me. I'm a fucking coward, Alex. I don't know what-"
"If there's one thing I've learned because of this shit, its that its okay to be afraid. I'm a coward too, but I'm the one who had the premonition, I'm the one who can see the signs. I don't want to die, Carter. I don't want you to die either. When I said I wished you were on the plane, I honestly thought I was crazy for getting us all kicked off the plane and that everything was going to be fine. I didn't mean it." Carter didn't even know how much he needed to hear those words until they came out of Alex's mouth. They filled him with fire in a way only a bottle of JD had managed so far, they made him want a future.
"We need to lock this place down, make it safer. You're next, but like hell I'm letting go of you without a fight. We are going to survive this shit, we are going to make it to Paris one day, and I'm going to take you on a fucking date if it kills me." It feels like the right thing to say, and even though its sappy as hell, it makes Alex smile. He can't ask for more than that.
"I'll hold you to it."