Chapter Text
"I think I did it on purpose," Alex says carefully, holding steady eye contact with Richard.
"Did what?"
"Overdosed."
"Alex," Richard begins.
"Not in a suicide way," Alex interrupts, "but in a kind of curious kind of way, if that makes sense?"
Richard is frowning and scribbles down some notes before he asks, "Can you elaborate?"
"I think I wondered what would happen, how bad it could really be. I wondered if the worry was justified and I think, I think I just wanted to know how bad it could get. How bad I could get."
"And what led you to that conclusion?"
Alex shrugs. "I've been thinking a lot about things lately, I guess. Things are good right now and I'm doing really well, I just think that maybe I had to hit rock bottom before I could get to this point where I'm doing really well. Like, there's no way I would have found myself a therapist if things hadn't fallen apart."
Richard frowns and makes some more notes.
Alex rarely feels like he needs to keep talking or like he needs to fill the airspace, but Richard has a peculiar way of making him feel particularly awkward in the silences, so he continues, "I'm not saying I meant to hit rock bottom, or summat, but in hindsight, I guess, I think it gave me the tools to actually try to do better, rather than just manage, if that makes sense."
"I appreciate your positive outlook, Alex, but you cannot romanticize your experience."
"You make it sound like you think I want to fucking overdose again."
"I don't want you to think it's some kind of get out of jail free card. I don't want you to think doing that again could be like hitting a reset button."
"I don't think that. I've just been thinking about things some. Things are really good with Miles, things are really good with my mates, and I'm really happy. I'm trying to move forward."
"Moving forward is good," Richard agrees, "so long as you're actually going forward, not in a circle."
"I am aware that I'll probably have more periods like that in my life, more times when everything feels like a lot and I'm anxious about everything," Alex says carefully, "but I have a better support network now, one that I feel more comfortable using. I have my mates, who have always been there for me, even when they don't really get it, and I have Miles, who does get it and loves me regardless. And I can talk to Miles in a way I can't talk to anyone else, and if all else fails, he sits with me in it."
"What do you mean he sits with you in it?"
"Sometimes it doesn't go away, right? Sometimes it's just paralyzing. It's this crushing weight, crushing panic, and it's totally paralyzing, and nothing can change that. Sometimes the only thing that I can do is to let it happen and let it pass. Miles will be there with me through it," Alex explains.
"He seems good for you," Richard comments, making notes.
Alex nods and smiles a bashful little smile. "He is. I think we're good for each other."
"That's good, Alex. I'm glad you're doing better," Richard says, setting his notepad aside. "I'll see you next week?"
"Yeah, thanks," Alex says. He gathers his coat and bids a good afternoon to the receptionist on his way out.
Alex has most of the afternoon before he's set to meet Miles and his mates and their respective partners for dinner and drinks. He could go home, he supposes, he'll have to make it home to get dressed for dinner, but he's in a pleasant mood and going home now doesn't sound particularly enticing. Instead, he wanders downtown London. He stops for coffee in a quaint little café and drinks on the patio while smoking a cigarette, then continues his wander. After a little while, Alex finds himself going in and out of shops, collecting bags with name brand labels full of expertly made clothing. He'll have to drop some things off with his own tailor, in the coming days, but for that he'll need an appointment and he really does need to be heading home.
At home, Alex dumps his bags in front of his closet, vowing to take care of everything later, and goes about deciding what to wear to dinner. Someone had the bright idea of making a reservation for all eight of them somewhere very nice, so he'll have to make an effort. Part of him is tempted to call Miles for input, but the bigger, more logical part of him finds it ridiculous to call his boyfriend to ask what he should wear to dinner.
His resolve firm, Alex decides what to wear, dresses, and then heads off to Miles' apartment so they can arrive together. Alex's good mood has held throughout the afternoon and into the evening, but there's an undercurrent of anxiety in his head now. Miles hasn't spent much time with Alex's bandmates beyond those agonized hours in a hospital waiting room, and Alex has begun to find himself very aware of the fact that Matt, Nick, and Jamie's partners are women. Alex has never been particularly shy or ashamed of his sexuality, but he is suddenly very aware of it.
For all of Alex's anxiety, dinner goes well and they occupy the table for hours, ordering just one more round, then one more round, then coffee, before they finally argue over who's going to pay the bill. In the morning, Alex won't remember who won.
Neither Alex nor Miles are quiet ready for the evening to be over, so they walk for a while until they end up on a park bench overlooking the Thames, taking in the way the city lights bounce off the water's surface. Somewhere along the way, they procure a bottle of red wine that they pass between them, fingers brushing as they do so.
After a while, Alex breaks the silence, saying, "I used to think love was, well, violent isn't the right word, but, uh, cutthroat, maybe. Unrelenting. Vicious. Brutal. I used to think that love was a beast that closed its jaws around your throat and didn't let go until you were dead or wished you were."
"And now?" Miles asks.
Alex lights a cigarette and thinks for a few moments, then settles on saying, "I, I think, it's still all those things, but also maybe kind and gentle and tender and soft. I think love is its own beast, its own thing that fights for life. I think it's inherently contradictory. I think that just because I love you tenderly, doesn't mean I can't also love you brutally."
Miles accepts when Alex offers the cigarette, then asks, "Why does it have to be brutal?"
"Love is overpowering, overwhelming. All I can do is let it exist however it likes. It's bigger than me. Love is bigger than me. It has to be brutal, sometimes. Something that big, that overwhelming can't not be. I love you and it is all consuming, all encompassing. It is so big that it can't help it."
Miles leans over and presses a kiss to Alex's temple. "'m gonna make you rethink that. Love is kind. Love is gentle. Love is soft. You deserve a soft love."
Alex smiles a kind of smile Miles hardly ever sees. It's soft and sweet and Miles thinks he would go to the ends of the earth to see it again.
"I mean that," Miles says. "I love you gently."
Alex rests his head against Miles' shoulder and says quietly, "You feel like home to me."