Joe's POV:

On out way back to my apartment, Alex told what had happened. Or most of it. He told me that his father had come home drunk and that they'd had a fight. It seemed to be more to the story, but I didn't want to push him if he wasn't ready to share.

Alex sat in the passengers seat of the car, soaking wet. He hadn't said anything in a while. He just sat there quietly, looking out of the window at the dark building passing by.

"We're here", I announced as I stopped the car in front of my apartment complex. I got out of the car and so did Alex. We walked up the stairs to the third floor where my apartment was. The elevator had been broken for a few weeks now. So, to everyones delight, whenever someone wanted to get in or out of the building they had to use the stairs. I myself really enjoyed walking down three flights of stairs every morning, just to realize I'd forgotten my car keys or something and then have to walk all the way up and down again.

I unlocked to door and I let Alex in first. I lived in a small one-rooms apartment. Or maybe it was a two-room, since the bathroom was a separated room? But then again how would a one-room apartment look? No, I think it was a one-rooms apartment. The point was that even though it wasn't big, it was big enough for me, since I lived alone.

When you walked in, the bathroom was to the right. Next to it was my "bedroom" which was my bed and a commode. It was the only place in the apartment, except the kitchen, you couldn't see from the door, which was the main reason I'd put it there.

To the left was a little kitchen. I usually only used the sink, the refrigerator and the microwave oven since I'm terrible at cooking (I almost sat the apartment on fire once, when I tried to make pizza).

In the middle of the room, between the kitchen and the bed, there were two couches facing each other with a table in the middle. I really don't knew why I owed two since I lived alone, but the previously owner apparently didn't want them so I just kept them. Behind the two couches were a big window and a desk with all my papers from work on it.

"Nice apartment," Alex said. "Do you live here alone?" I nodded, then realized I was behind him and therefore couldn't see me.

"Yeah, I moved here from Texas some months ago" I said. I walked past Alex to the commode beside my bed. I opened a drawer and took out a pair of gray sweatpants and a yellow hoodie.

"Here," I said, giving the clothes to Alex. He looked at me with a weird expression on his face. "Alex, you are soaking wet, you need to change your clothes or you'll get sick."

"Fine," he said, took the clothes and walked into the bathroom to change.

*^*

Five minutes later, Alex came out of the bathroom wearing the clothes I gave him. He looked cute in the oversized, yellow hoodie. The sweatpants actually looked good at him. They were mine from 9th grade. I didn't know why a had packed them when I moved the first place, or why I still had them at all, but they seemed to fit Alex perfectly.

I smiled at him from where I was sitting on one of the couches. I'd made two cups of tea (with lots of sugar of course) and I took a sip as Nico sat down opposite of me.

"I'm sorry I bothered you with this." Alex said, looking down at the cup of tea in his hands.

"No, no. I want to help you, Alex." I said. "Do you want to talk about it, because I will listen."

Alex took a deep breath. "Is just," he sighed before he continued. "I don't know what to do anymore, I-"

"It's okay, you don't have to if you're not ready"

Alex started down in his tea cup, like it would reveal the answers to all his problems if he stared at it hard enough. He took a few breaths before continuing. "My mother died when I was little. I don't remember much of it, but my father was devastated. He began drinking more often. Not like an alcoholic, he would just come home drunk sometimes. He worked a lot so it was just me and my sister most of the times."

He was starting to get a little teary eyed. I could tell it was painful for him to talk about it. "Then, when I was ten, m-my sister died too. We'd been on a playground and I-I was playing with a football. The ball rolled out on the road, and I, as stupid as I was, ran after. I-I didn't see t-the car coming..." Alex broke down in tears, head in his hands. I stood up, walked around the table and sat down beside him on the couch. I laid an arm around his shoulder and gave him a hug. He let out a sob.

"I've always blamed myself for her death. She died because she tried to save me. If I just hadn't been so stupid—"

I cut him of before he could finish. "No, don't say that. It was not you fault, you couldn't have done anything."

"Yes, I could! I could have not ran out on the road! If I'd just been more careful," he said angry, tears still streaming down his face.

"Alex, this isn't your—"

"Yes. Yes it is. If it wasn't for me, she would've been alive. It should've been me, not her! I should have died instead of her!" Alex had stood up and was now nearly shouting. The sleeves of the hoodie was wet from him trying to wipe away his tears. I stood up as well and wrapped my arms around his, hugging him. I knew it wasn't worth it to argue about that now. All Alex needed now was comfort. The poor kid had gone through too much. I knew it was more to the story, but right now he was too upset to talk about it.

We stood there for a while, my arms wrapped around his small frame and his face buried in my chest. As we stood there, I thought about this whole thing about me and Alex being together. It wasn't long since the school had started and this was already messed up. What am I going to do, I thought. I can't leave Alex now. What am I going to do.