(no subject)

[takecourage]

She spends a lot of time curled up on the couch, staring at nothing. She's swaddled in blankets, the AC cranked up so that she can wear one of Darlington's sweaters, swaddled in it, her hair scraped back from her face and Kirby sprawled half in her lap, her fingers pressed into his fur. She sleeps a lot. She wants to cry but she just feels hollowed out and brittle. Darlington is still here a lot. They talk. Gradually, it feels like they're working something out.

She just doesn't know what it is yet.

Mostly, she ignores texts, but when Caleb reaches out again, she finally cracks.

Come over, she texts. I'm at home.

Comments

[greatamazingfeelingsboy]

Caleb shows up only a few minutes later, which means he'd actually been close by. And he was: he'd come to barge his way in, because she's been ignoring his texts and the last time someone he cared about behaved differently via text, it was Michael, getting carved open, and he'd helped Alex Manes track him down and—

No. This is about a different Alex. This is about Alex Stern, and Caleb finds himself hesitating at the door.

Whatever she's feeling, it's a lot. It's a thick, heavy mist, gray and off-white and black and cold. It's like marble, he realizes, like a black and white marble counter-top — cold, unyielding, impossible to see through. His hand is sweaty when he grips the handle and pushes his way in.

"A-Alex?" he whispers. It feels like he has to whisper. He doesn't know if it's actually dark in here, or if it's just that counter-top blocking out the light.