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"A really fucked up god."
The words rang throughout Tod's mind on the drive home. The seat next to him, the one that George had claimed when they were younger, was now empty, and it would never be sat in again, not by him.
Waves of regret and nausea crashed over him, thinking of things he should've done to prevent this.
He should've sent George to check on Alex instead, hope that Christa or Blake pitied him and sat next to him, so at least he'd die with a chick at his side.
The idea made him sick of himself. Girls should be the last thing he thought about, but it's much better than the alternative, which was his mother and father, unable to speak, only cry.
Crying sucked. Since he was a kid, he hated it. George had always told him it was okay, and that was the only time he let himself show how upset he was about something. So, even though the thing to cry about was his brother's death, he couldn't, because his brother was the only person who could get him to open up.
..And maybe Alex. Nobody was cooler than him, in Tod's opinion. Being without either of them hurt, but the way his dad looked at Alex let him know how the next few months would go.
No contact with the two people he truly loved. George was probably in all sorts of fleshy pieces, so it wasn't like there would be a proper funeral. They wouldn't even get to bury him, they'd be praying and crying over grass, over an empty casket.
Alex, not dead, but he might as well be. Tod wasn't sure if he'd be arrested or not, but even if he wasn't, everybody at school would surely trash him for this. Would he be considered a criminal? Because he had a dream that happened to come true?
Tod knew he didn't do anything to make that plane go down. He had searched through Alex's suitcase on the car ride to the airport, making sure there wasn't anything he had forgotten, because Alex forgot a lot of things.
That was the thing. Alex's mind ran too quickly, he forgot things easily, made plans that were never executed, either due to his shitty memory or procrastination. He did not cause this.
Nothing incriminating had been in his suitcase. His pockets were empty, save for some chapstick. Tod knew that, because he tried seeing if either of them, or George, had any change. He wanted to see if he could get a snack at the airport. That was where his dad had gotten the idea to give them some money.
Tod thought back to when he kept on begging George for that money, started pushing him. Ms. Lewton broke them up, but he still regretted it. George deserved that money, he had been a better brother, he should've bought whatever he wanted and not shared with Tod at all.
In another world, they would have taken Spanish. The trip to wherever that class went had been cancelled. No airplanes, no traveling. Tod could see it, that life, him with Alex and George, doing group projects together and laughing at how terrible their pronounciation sounded. It would've been an easier pass, too, considering how much he heard about the Spanish teachers being much more chill.
Tod didn't say anything, but when he looked in his father's eyes, he could practically hear his thoughts. "Why you? Why did you live, and not our dear George?"
It was probably just his own thoughts, but it really did feel like his dad was saying it to him, even with his unmoving lips.
And if he did, Tod would've understood, because he knew that it should've been George who lived. George was smarter, better looking, more polite, didn't "have issues" like how his parents said Tod did. Overall, he was the perfect child.
And now his parents were left with him, a dumb kid with no certain future ahead of him, bound to never achieve anything or have any sort of significance.
Maybe he should've studied harder, focused on books instead of boobs, or.. Alex. Had he not spent all his time admiring his best friend, would he be a better kid? Somebody his parents were proud to introduce to neighbors, old friends?
Probably not.
There had to be a different universe where they took Spanish, or never decided to pay to go on the trip, but there was no way that there could be a universe where Tod and Alex weren't best friends, where Tod didn't wish they were more.
Fingers snapped in his face. His dad's fingers. "We're home."
"You could've said my name-"
"Not now."
"Oh."
So they couldn't even say his name? He tried to ignore it. Everybody dealt with grief in different ways, they'd be able to look at him come tomorrow.
Except they couldn't. For the next two weeks, they didn't barely talk to him, only making the effort to right before bed, his mom telling him every night that "it'll all be okay in the end". For some reason, he didn't believe her.
One morning, he tried to joke with his dad. There was barely any response, just a nod of acknowledgment.
Tod leaned in closer to his dad, whispering shaky words. "Sometimes I think you hate me." He had said those words to his parents before, when it was a joke to make them feel a little guilty, just something to make everybody laugh. Maybe it held some truth sometimes, but they always tried to say something that would suggest the opposite.
Now, his father said nothing, continued to sip on what Tod hoped wasn't more alcohol, kept his gaze at the TV.
He tried again. "Sometimes I think you hate me." There was more venom in it, but still no real response.
"Whatever." He mumbled, walking away. Rummaging through the medicine cabinet, he took some nyquil, wanting to just sleep it off.
And he did, only waking up once it was midnight.
Through the crack in his door, he heard his mother crying as she did everyday at this time, and his father attempting to calm her down.
What had changed? Sure, George was gone, and sure, he was their sun, their golden child, but why can't they stay somewhat happy, just enough to not bring him down with them?
Another week of relying on nyquil to keep him away from having to walk through the living room and see how pitiful his parents looked passed, and his father only talked to him to let him know he could not talk to Alex.
So much yelling. There were arguments way before flight 180, but it hurt more now, knowing he'd always be the subject of them somehow, nothing and nobody to hide behind.
He locked his bedroom door, finding an old magazine in his bottom drawer with all kinds of beautiful women, but he couldn't find it in him to really get it going, palming himself through his boxers with no real pleasure in return.
Whenever he failed a test, had a mini argument with Alex or Billy, he'd go home and touch himself. It was that simple, and then he'd be chill enough to be the bigger person and apologize- unless whoever was mad at him already got over it and beat him to it, and then things would go back to normal.
There was no normal now. He wanted to try to make it somewhat normal, though. Somehow.
So, his hands went into his boxers, massaging himself, putting pressure on the area that always made him go crazy, but instead of moans, tears of guilt left him.
He gave up quickly, feeling himself ache for more, and as much as he wanted to give it to himself, it just wouldn't work.
"Life fucking sucks." He muttered to himself, putting the magazine away.
A knock on his window made him whip his head around, pulling his hand away from himself.
Alex's hand. He could tell from just one angle, even with how dark it was out. And he hated himself for it, because he was in so deep for this man, but his father would never allow it, especially not now.
"Go away." He said, the words burning his mouth. It was not what he ever wanted to tell his best friend, but he didn't want his dad to be even more distant with him.
"Tod. Please." Alex begged through the window, his voice slightly muffled.
And how was he supposed to say no to that? He unlocked the window, helping Alex in, every touch sending jolts throughout his body, feeling like he was a robot that just got new batteries.
Before he could say anything, Alex pushed him onto the bed, practically attacking him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. They had been affectionate with each other before, but the intensity of it this time, and how long it had been..
Tod bursted out into tears. It was the first time he had cried without George's help, and that just made him sob even more.
"Alex?" He asked.
"What's wrong? I'll help, I swear I will-"
"Can we take a shower?"
Alex froze for a moment, but he nodded. They had showered together since they first started having sleepovers years ago, but there were times when it really did matter.
The times Tod could recall:
- When his dog died, and they cuddled on the shower floor together
- When he got rejected by a girl he had crushed on for months, and Alex washed his back and hair for him
- When his mom yelled at him for somehow breaking two things in the house in the span of an hour, so they spent nearly two hours together in the shower, talking until he felt better
- When Alex failed a test for the first time, and he couldn't comprehend it, so Tod got him a bath bomb and they bathed together
He felt terrible that only one of those times was him helping Alex, and that the majority of them were Alex helping him, but he needed it again.
Something about being in the shower, naked and vulnerable together, it made him feel safe. The process of drying each other's hair and staying wrapped up in towels while cuddling in bed was a big plus as well.
Alex helped Tod to the bathroom, feeling terrible with every step. In a quick glimpse into the living room, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Waggner, asleep on the couch, both with almost empty cups of wine by their sides.
Is this how Tod's life was now?
Or.. could this even be considered a life? No more brother, parents doing the bare minimum to keep him alive, no talking to his best friend..
It was sickening to think about, but he had to focus on now. No regrets, he saved six lives. It should've been seven, he should've tried to get George off the plane as well, but it was better than no Tod either. He didn't even want to consider the possibility of no Tod.
No freckles over a nose, no obnoxious laugh, no "I get anxiety sometimes, dude" right before attempting to hit on multiple girls, no having to nudge his leg to get him to focus, no movie nights, no..
He distracted himself by trying to make conversation. "I love you."
"Love you too, man." Tod said, forcing a smile as Alex ran the hot water.
The shower head looked like heaven to be under. He helped Tod undress, and then did the same to himself.
They hopped into the shower, both just staring at each other's faces. Even with how close they were, they never really looked at each other's chest or..
It was just out of respect. Things were hard enough, they didn't need a constant reminder of what they were born as, of the fact that they were too young to get any sort of surgery.
Alex started washing his hair, missing the expensive shampoo Tod had. The Waggner's weren't crazy rich, but they had enough money to make him just a bit envious.
Once his hair felt clean, free of the dandruff that had been building up due to sleepness nights trying to research premonitions and planes instead of practicing proper hygiene, he helped Tod.
The brunette was sort of lifeless, moving whenever Alex made him, but otherwise standing still, not making much effort to show any sort of happiness.
Under the water, Alex wrapped his arms around Tod's waist, resting his head on the other man's shoulder.
"I wish I could make it better."
"You are." Tod whispered, clearly trying to hide back tears.
"No I'm not. I'm hurting you by being here." He pulled away, deciding he'd head home earlier than initially planned.
"Don't leave me here. Please. This is the first real conversation I've had in weeks." Tod begged, tears running down his cheeks.
Alex immediately obeyed, sitting down on the shower floor with Tod, water falling over their knees. When they focused a little too hard on the water, it looked weird as it fell down their skin.
Both of them noticed that the other had cuts on their thighs, some more recent than others. They chuckled sadly.
"I take it you're not coping well either?" Tod asked jokingly.
"Guess not. Nobody willingly talks to me but Clear, and I think Billy wants to try and ask me something like I can predict the future now. I'm just waiting for him to try, I need a good laugh."
"I think Carter wants to murder you." Tod added.
"I think that could be true." Alex said, turning to sit in front of Tod.
Tod blushed a bit, missing seeing that face almost everyday.
"Could you.." Tod started a question, the water falling on them so loud that only they could hear it.
In a matter of seconds, Alex was on top of Tod, wanting to make him feel something that wasn't pain, just like he asked.
Morning came, and Tod woke up on the bed with Alex, both wrapped in blankets, arms around each other.
His parents were gone, hadn't even left a note, but he figured they just went out to get even more alcohol. That's pretty much the only thing they did now.
Alex woke up to breakfast on the nightstand next to him. He grabbed the plate, ignoring the fork and using his hands to hold the waffle as he bit into it, leaving the room to search for Tod.
He was found laying on the kitchen floor, crying once again. Alex wasn't annoyed at all, having expected that last night's pleasure would only be temporary, that things couldn't automatically get better like they did in musicals.
He finished his food and laid down next to Tod.
"Do you want to watch a movie?"
Tod scoffed, but he didn't actually want to be mean. "What would even watch? Mallrats again? Scream? Alien?"
"Alien doesn't sound too bad." Alex commented, trying to make Tod at least crack a smile.
"I don't think I can stand seeing that stupid underwear Ripley wears at the end."
"It was hot in the 70's!" Alex argued.
And Tod giggled. It was quick, but it happened. Tears still flowed out of his eyes, but the laugh was real.
"Okay, okay, whatever. We'll watch it."
Alex pumped his fist, mimicking the action from Billy, who did that whenever he somehow had gotten a question right in French.
Tod laughed again, and it was like a reward. He forced Alex to help him up from the floor.
When Alex had to leave a couple of hours later, the joy went with him.
Tod knew he'd have to go back to "normal" life now, no more human interaction for him. Life did indeed suck, but he figured it'd pass sooner or later.
He spent the rest of the day trying to think of something Alex and him could do once his father got over all of this bullshit.
And maybe that night he hoped for another knock at his window, and maybe he cried again when there was none.