Alex Turner

Alex stared blankly at the wall opposite him, his heart pounding in his chest as the heavily alcoholic (and most definitely spiked) drink in his hand trembled between shaky fingers, his mind racing with all sorts of thoughts.

You, being his loving partner, had noticed his odd behaviour recently. Since the beginning of the college term before Christmas break, he hadn’t been the same. You had no exact idea why, but Matt had some thoughts...

“S’posedly he’s jelly of how close some dudes are gettin’ wi’ you. Y’know, flirting and owt.” Matt had slurred.

The sound of the Christmas themed (though lazily so) party around you took your mind off of how drained and miserable Alex looked sat in the corner, but the laced hot chocolate Jamie had gotten for you dragged your worries back to the poor boy.

Alex had always been somewhat insecure about everything, despite the facade he puts ahead of himself. Beneath all of the powerful, musical, popular college guy he was, he was like a water balloon. One specific prick and he’d pop. You had witnessed it first hand, his rages when things got too difficult. He’d shout and cry, scream and throw, lose complete control of himself. It’s why you always hated whenever he seemed the way he did now.

Alex didn’t lift his head as he felt your light, anxious tap on his shoulder, followed by the slightly thump and sink into the cushions below as you sat beside him. His vision was obscured by tears and his fingers caught between his teeth as he kept his blurry gaze locked on the bare, grey wall opposite him.

He had noticed it, how other girls and guys in your year would approach you and openly flirt with you. How they would clearly present themselves better than they were in an attempt to win you over. Seeing such things happen before his eyes was enough to crumble his already broken self-esteem, make him physically cringe whenever he looked at himself in the mirror while brushing his teeth or stare blankly at his thin body while changing. Seeing the person he thought he loved greatly slowly drift away from him was enough to consider drastic ideas such as thinking about harming himself, a habit he had unfortunately been carrying for years.

“Alex, mate.” Miles then scoffed, not entirely pleased with how you sat beside him in fear he was mentally floating away again. “Pay attention, you bloody wanker.” He crouched down in front of Alex, one hand gripping his best-friend’s chin and guiding the lost boy to finally look him in the eyes. “You love {{user}}, yeah? Fuckin’ wake yerself up then, twat.”