emerald_skies | A quick surprise fic post (Reply)

Well, internets, today has been yet another mixed bag. I spent a tidy chunk of the day wrestling with Microsoft Excel (for my Exercise Physiology lab) and then, after some inspiration by the wonderful and amazing

jean_iris, I managed to write some more of my Starsgard fic that had been comatose for four(ish) months before now. Since it's been so long, anyone who still actually remembers/follows it should re-read some here (tags are amazingly helpful sometimes).

Title: Picking Up The Pieces (Part 7)
Author:

emerald_skies
Summary: In which Stark thinks too much and practically frets himself into an ulcer, and Alex surprises us all.
Usual disclaimer/boilerplate that I keep forgetting: This is all a work of fiction that never happened. It's the product of my overactive imagination, please don't sue, etc. etc. etc.

Part 6

Generally speaking, Stark feels like a colossal idiot for thinking that anything about this clusterfuck would be easy.

When he first thought of it, getting Alex to talk to his family seemed like a pretty simple task. It certainly seemed easier than just sitting down and asking Alex the weighty, all-important question of "What's wrong?"

Except, for all of how easy it seems, Stark just can't seem to do it. The more he thinks about it, the more "What's wrong?" and "Why won't you talk to your family?" start to become the same question until it's all one tangled, headache-inducing mess.

What's worse, there almost never seems to be a "right" moment to bring it up. On the rare occasions when a good opportunity finally appears, the same thing keeps happening: he opens his mouth to ask, remembers the scared, pained expression on Alex's face from before with amazing clarity, and his throat locks up.

After enough failed attempts, Alex starts to give him a distinctly questioning look every time it happens which, for some reason, just makes Stark even more nervous. He never asks why Stark appears to be developing a strange new facial tic, though, which just makes Stark wonder. Maybe he knows, Stark muses in the wee hours of another restless night, Well, either that or he thinks I'm going nuts. He might not necessarily be wrong there, he adds dryly. He glances in the general direction of his bedroom and leans forward to put his head in his hands. I can't give up on him. I don't think I could if I tried. Besides, when have the really important things ever been easy?

Worry presses Stark's mouth into a tight line as he glances toward the bedroom again, I just hope I can figure something out before things get any worse.

-------

The problem with major or uncomfortable issues, Stark reflects as he leaves rehearsal a few days later, is that the longer anyone waits to directly address them, the easier it gets to pretend they don't exist. He finds a large part of his mind really wants to pretend that everything is fine, that Alex is just visiting for the hell of it, and that none of this has anything at all to do with the fact that Alex's life has self-destructed and no one seems to know why.

Except there are things about it that refuse to be ignored or pretended away, like the dull, empty look in Alex's eyes where there used to always seem to be a hint of amusement or mischief. It makes Stark feel like Alex is in some faraway place where no one else can touch him, even when they're in the same room. Occasionally, pain flickers through that look – it makes Stark want to reach out to Alex, to fix it somehow. Problem is, I can't fix it if I don't know what "it" is.

Stark sighs in trepidation as he unlocks the door to his apartment. I'm just going to have to ask, there's no way around it. I just hope I don't hurt him too much.

Unexpectedly, Stark finds Alex standing in the middle of the living room.

"Alex, wha—"

"We need to talk," Alex interjects quietly, looking down at his feet.

Stark's mouth hangs open for a second before he smiles nervously. "Words every man longs to hear," he jokes weakly. When Alex doesn't even smile, Stark gestures for Alex to join him on the couch. "What's—"

"My mother died."

For once, Stark finds himself completely at a loss. "What? When did this happen?" Suddenly, while Alex sits there mutely staring at him, everything adds up. Stark feels his eyes widen, "Oh…" He rubs the back of his neck with one hand while he struggles to simultaneously process this information and ignore the fact that Alex is still staring at him. "What happened?"

Alex flinches away from the question as if Stark had slapped him. He takes a deep, shuddering breath before he replies slowly, "I don't know. I mean, my dad probably said when he called to tell me but after he said she died I just," his voice cracks, "I couldn't register anything else."

"I can imagine."

Suddenly, Alex's eyes fill until tears begin to stream down his face, "It was too much. I was stressed out from working all the time and then I found out and I just couldn't do it anymore," he puts his head in his hands and sobs quietly, his shoulders shaking.

The sight shakes Stark out of his shock-induced fog. "Hey," he whispers soothingly as he reaches hesitantly out to rub his hand back and forth across Alex's back. After a while, Stark swears he feels Alex relax into the touch. He shakes his head, chalking it up to badly timed wishful thinking.

"Alex, look at me." When Alex does, Stark continues, "I wish I could come up with something profound to say, but I can't so I'm just going to be blunt: bad things happen." Alex opens his mouth to interrupt but Stark presses on, "In your case, enough bad things happened that you got overwhelmed. That doesn't mean you're weak or anything, it just means you're human."

Alex sighs and swipes a hand across his eyes, "Sure."

"I'm serious! Luckily for you, though, you have good friends who want to help you. No matter how much you might try to push them away," he adds with a wry smile. It widens into something more genuine when Alex smiles weakly in return.

"Thank you," Alex whispers.

"Alex, I'd be a pretty sorry excuse for a friend if I blew you off any time something bad happened."

"Wouldn't be the first time. In case you didn't notice before, I'm kind of a mess."

"You're in good company then." Stark's expression turns serious again, "Seriously though, will you let me help you out, at least?" Alex, after some hesitation, finally nods (much to Stark's relief). After a second, Alex clears his throat and stands up quickly.

"Thanks for the talk – and I really will stop shutting you out – but…can I have some time to myself?" When Stark frowns, puzzled, Alex adds hurriedly, "You didn't do anything wrong, I'm just kind of emotionally drained. I need to think."

"Okay, I guess. It was kind of intense."

"Yeah," Alex moves to rub the back of his neck with one hand. He freezes mid-gesture and shoves his hands in his pockets instead. After a moment that feels oddly tense, he turns and walks back into Stark's bedroom.

Stark watches Alex go, his expression unreadable. When he hears the bedroom door close, Stark leans back and rakes both hands through his hair.

"So that went well," he murmurs to the room at large, "but what the fuck am I supposed to do now?"

[to be continued...]

Part 8

It's been a while (to put it mildly) so I know I'm a bit rusty and many revisions will probably ensue, but please be gentle in the mean time.

Me, I'll just be over here celebrating the fact that my muse isn't dead.

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