Disclaimer: Don't own it.
They say it fades if you let it
Love was made to forget it
I carved your name across my eyelids
You pray for rain, I pray for blindness
Crown of Love- Arcade Fire
Chapter Two
He was never one to stare out a window in high school. He would always scowl (well, as best as he could) in the direction of those that did and make a big show of taking his own notes. But things change. And it's the only thing he can focus on nowadays. He watches as the snow falls outside his class. Slow and steady, covering the ground with a white, clean blanket. All the faults of the grass and sidewalk hidden beneath it.
He doesn't take any notes. Just stares out the window until a man comes and clears a path.
*****
"No, mom, I can't," he sighs and fiddles with the pen in his hand, his gaze focused outside his small window, it's still snowing, the sun sinking, disappearing from his sight for another night, "I told you, coming home for one weekend was detrimental to my school work. I'm so far behind. I can't afford another weekend without studying."
She says something about family obligations, how he needs to be home this weekend, tells him that Alex has reverted back to her depressed state, locking herself in her bedroom, avoiding the family.
"Do you want me to lose my scholarship?" He asks, his tone so bitter and harsh that it surprises even him. "Sorry," he murmurs apologetically, "I'm just so stressed out, mom. And, as much I wish I could help Alex," he swallows thickly, acid burning his throat, "I can't."
She's quiet on the other end, sensing that he's telling the truth and sighs, "Alright then, I'll call you later?"
He nods, licking his lips, his body filling with relief, "Yeah."
He hangs up, letting his cell slip from his grasp and fall into his comforter. He continues to stare out the window.
*****
"How are we going to do this?" Alex asks indignantly, her hands perched on her tiny hips.
Justin rolls his eyes impatiently, "Just like they do in the movies, duh," he looks up at his sister, finds her still pouting in his direction; her cheeks are rosy from the cold, her pigtails peeking out from under her baby blue hat and puffs of white coming from her mouth as she continues to huff at him.
"Justin," she says, her voice stern like their mother's and he stifles a laugh. "I know that, what I meant was, where are we supposed to build this? Outside the restaurant?" She raises an eyebrow and moves her hands, crossing her arms over her chest.
He doesn't answer her for a moment, she does have a point. There isn't much room to build one outside. And the terrace is out. He bites his lower lip, "We could have dad take us to the park?"
She rolls her eyes and gestures to the Station where their parents are busy taking orders and making sandwiches, "When?"
He huffs and stands, brushing snow off of his snow pants, "Whatever, Alex. I'm going to go read."
He stomps into the restaurant and leaves her behind.
She avoids him for the rest of the day, but he catches her looking at him, her eyes sad and a frown on her face.
That night when he goes to bed he finds a white snowman on his pillow, carefully crafted out of construction paper; it's complete with eyes, a nose, a smiling face, two arms, a scarf and a top hat. A smile tugs at his lips and he flips it over, he finds "sorry" scribbled on the back in Alex's sloppy six year old handwriting.
He tucks it away in a box full of her other creations that rest under his bed.
They're his only favorite things that Alex never takes away.
*****
"Hey, Justin, it's me—"
He hits the seven on his phone and puts it back to his ear. "Justin, it's me again--"
He deletes it. And deletes the five after that.
The next message starts with a shaky breath, "Justin," she starts, her voice small, she sniffles and he closes his eyes at the sound, "It's me, Alex. I, uh, I really need to talk to you. And, I," she takes a deep breath, "Did I do something wrong? Why are you avoiding me? Please call me back."
He releases the breath that he was holding before he deletes that message, too.
*****
"Russo, you going to the party with me?"
Justin turns to his roommate, focusing on him for only a moment before he turns back to his computer, a blank word document on the screen, "Not tonight. I have this essay to do, and some reading. Maybe next time though." He smiles half heartedly but his roommate just shrugs him off and leaves the room.
He likes numbers and formulas. They're safe. And easy. Sometimes they're even comforting in their familiarity.
He hates writing. He's never been one for creativity, sure, he's built robots and created new spells, but he leaves the creativity to Alex.
If he were talking to her, he'd call her; have her tell him about some crazy dream she had the night before. She'd help him out. Give him some sort of idea for this essay. She's smart and imaginative, she's come up with some of the best lies (and some of the not so best lies); writing comes to her just as naturally as her art does, not that she's ever shared it with anyone but him.
He stares at the phone that rests on his stand. Willing it to explode or come to him.
It does neither. Just sits on his stand where it normally is.
He shakes his head, willing himself to focus on the task at hand. There has to be something that he can write about. He opens his iTunes, listens to a few songs, waiting for something to come to him.
He wanders around his small room, recites spells and sings the element song. He plucks the strings on his guitar, a song easily coming to him.
But thoughts of Alex won't leave his head.
He keeps hearing that sniffle, that hint that she had been crying. Had been hurting. And it was his fault.
He sets his guitar down and reaches for his phone, not giving it much thought, just finding her number in his phone (which isn't hard, she's always been on top of his list) and calls her.
But she doesn't answer and he knows that he's hurt her more than that asshole, Kyle.
He closes his eyes, his hands clenching at his sides.
He grabs his wand from its hidden place and sends himself to Alex's room.
He was hoping for a scream, for her to yell at him for invading her room.
But it's dark, which is odd, it's only a little after ten and Alex is usually up doing something. He lets his eyes adjust to the lack of light and finally he finds her, nestled on her bed, her blankets wrapped tightly around her.
He relaxes a little, knowing that she's safe, that she's relatively okay. He walks to her bed, finds her brow puckered, her eyes moving quickly beneath her eyelids, he sighs sadly, knows the reason she's sleeping so restlessly, so he smoothes her hair back, brushes his lips on her forehead and vanishes himself away.
