Detour - 4. Chapter 4

BLAIR POV

Pain was unavoidable in any kind of relationship, so was absence. People were doomed to hurt each other, the very condition of existence - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said that. The act of wanting someone created an absence in the self - Anne Carson said that.

Blair must’ve read and reread a hundred books in the weeks that followed. Something about the suffering of fictional characters often siphoned the emotion out of him. It worked for years. However, it didn’t work now.

Alex’s absence felt heavier than a loss. It was almost a physical feeling, like his shadow still lingered in the halls of the house. There was a perpetual sense of offness now. Blair had never realized just how deeply ingrained Alex was into every aspect of his life.

Alex woke him up nearly every day, whether due to his impatience over hanging out or from how loudly he played video games. They’d eat breakfast together, binge-watch shows, play video games, visit the pool, get into hour-long debates over the stupidest things… Alex was always here. Now, he woke up alone to an eerily silent house. Only books and Edgewood preparation material awaited him.

Like every other day since Alex had effectively ended their friendship - a sentence that felt surreal even now - Blair sat at his desk, hunched over, poring through textbooks and notes in preparation for every Edgewood class he’d been signed up for. The weeks went by so fast; he’d already scheduled everything with the guidance counselor over a Zoom call, as was procedure for Edgewood, and he’d completed all of his required readings. Yet no matter how much he tried to distract himself, the absence sat in his chest, a particularly heavy ache that refused to leave no matter how much he studied.

A knock on the door made his heart jump. The stupid hope, as always, flashed through his mind: Alex.

But it was just his sister.

“Brought you lunch,” Harrie said as she opened the door. “God, it’s dark in here. Open the curtains at least.”

“Thanks,” Blair said numbly. Alex wasn’t going to be here. Why did he ever think otherwise?

Silently, Harrie set a plate on the desk. He could practically sense the worry emanating from her.

“Two sandwiches? That’s too much,” Blair mumbled.

“Well, you didn’t eat breakfast.” She crossed her arms. “And I’m not too sure you had dinner last night either.”

“I did.”

“I don’t believe you,” Harrie said, sighing. “You’ve just been pounding coffee nonstop. School hasn’t even started yet.”

Blair rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t give me that attitude.” It didn’t sound like an actual reprimand. She stared at him for a moment before sighing again. “Have you tried speaking to him at least?”

God, not this again. As close as he considered them to be, Harrie commenting on his personal troubles irritated him like a perpetual itch.

“Yes.” He turned back to his book.

“And has he said anything?”

No. Hundreds of texts had gone through in every app imaginable, but Alex never replied to any of them. He turned his read receipts off too, so Blair couldn’t be sure Alex was even reading what he sent.

Blair was no stranger to drunk people, he had seen Harrie get tipsy a couple of times. He'd definitely seen her friends inebriated on weekend nights. Dom could outdrink them all, though; he had enough blackout stories to fill up a teen drama. It was just a normal part of life. Some people got giggly when they were drunk, some got teary-eyed, some struggled to walk. But he had never heard a drunk person sound as bad as Alex did that night.

And it was all Blair’s fault.

If he’d just gone to the party like he said he was going to, he could’ve kept an eye on Alex. But of course, he had to be an asshole and leave Alex alone instead. The day before his brother was going away.

Alex had always been the sensitive one, and sometimes that led to outbursts. But he never needed to worry about this side of Alex. Alex rarely got upset with him. Sometimes, they’d have little arguments, but in minutes, they'd be back talking like nothing happened.

Alex’s drunken rambling played in his head, like a nightmare he couldn't stop reliving. It couldn’t be over. Not like this, so soon and sudden, right before they’d be forced to separate for high school. That loss had already been too much to bear. Now, Blair could hardly get himself through the day without an obscene amount of caffeine and a busy schedule before relying on painkillers to pass out at night.

“I’m taking the silence as a no,” Harrie said. After a brief pause, she added, “I’m sure he’ll answer soon. Every friendship has fights.”

For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something else, but maybe the look on Blair’s face froze the words in her throat. If she tried to give him another sentimental thought, he’d probably have to die then and there just to get out of it. But, almost instantly, she clapped her hands once and put on a big smile.

“Anyways! I didn’t just come here to get you to eat food for once, as much as I love pretending I’m taking care of some creature trapped in the basement. That horror thing you’ve been looking forward to is finally in theaters. The one with that actress I hate. The premiere’s tonight!”

Oh. Right. The movie he was supposed to watch with Alex. Blair rubbed his eyes.

“I’ll wait for it to come out on streaming.”

“I think it’s time for you to come out of this man cave and try out this crazy thing called ‘going outside’. There’s people out there. And trees. Remember trees?”

“You’re hilarious,” he deadpanned. “But I have to work.”

Harrie wasn’t backing down. “You can invite your friends from Edgewood. The ones you went to that country club with.” If she noticed his wince at the mention of that, she didn’t comment on it. “I’ll pay for everything. Snacks included. You can even take the goth one to Hot Topic. Maybe he can teach you how to do eyeliner.”

Blair exhaled slowly and rested his cheek on his palm, staring blankly down at Latin phrases he only barely registered. He knew she just wanted to help, but everything she said made the ache worse and worse. All of this, the attempts to distract him and the invitations of others into an Alex-type activity, it all signified one thing. The end of their friendship, one that lasted seven years only to be dismantled because of Blair’s stupid damned mistake.

Why had he done it? He asked himself this every night and every morning. Sometimes the guilt overshadowed the grief, as dramatic as it felt to call it grief. But what else could it be? Alex lived a short walk away, and yet Blair hadn’t heard his voice in so long. Whenever he passed that house, he looked up at the windows as though he could spot that familiar blonde hair and cheeky grin. But nothing was ever there.

“All right, I’ll decide for you,” Harrie said. “You’re going out tonight. No more work. You’ve done everything you needed to do for school, anyway. And give me that coffee, for God’s sake. Call your friends.”

Something lurked under the firm tone she used, something tinged with concern and sadness, but Blair refused to pay it any mind. “Wes and James are millionaires.”

“And millionaires don’t watch movies?”

“I don’t want to invite them to some shitty movie theater in the middle of nowhere,” Blair said, annoyed. It’d be an embarrassing response to their country club invitation.

She gave him a look. “They’re not going to care. You’re overthinking again. Movie theaters are the same everywhere, Blair.” When he didn’t move, she placed one hand on the desk and the other on the hip, a sudden authoritative pose. “I’m going to have to pull the legal caretaker card here and tell you that I’m not letting you sit in your room for the rest of vacation to just mope around.”

“I’m not moping.”

“I know this is difficult, but you can’t just sit in your room waiting for Alex to call. He will. I promise you he will. But you can do other things while you wait.”

Blair suppressed a groan. “Whatever. Fine. I’ll call them. They don’t even live that close, so don’t get mad at me when they say no-”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, or whatever the phrase is,” Harrie said, snatching up his cup of coffee and walking out. “Just call them first.”

“They’re going to say no!” he yelled back.

Wes peered over the edge of the mall’s second floor, leaning too precariously against the glass that James started to wince. “Look, look! Vinyls!”

“Wes, you’re going to fall over.” James sounded very tense.

“My dad bought me a record player the other week,” Wes explained, ignoring him, “but it’s been so hard finding the actual vinyls I want. I keep having to order them online. God. If they don’t have Scary Bitches, I’m going to kill myself.”

“What?” James said, stunned.

Blair, lost in thought, just stared at the recently polished floors and listened as James started to yell at Wes for pushing the glass barrier too much. This may have been the first time he’d gone to the mall with anyone besides Alex. Sometimes other people tagged along, namely Dom, but no matter what, Alex had always been there.

It took a moment to force his thoughts to refocus.

“The movie starts in an hour,” he said.

“Yeah, see? We’ve gotta go,” James said, pulling Wes away from the barrier. It was a funny image, seeing someone so short and baby-faced manhandle a goth twice his height. “We’ll check the vinyl store later.”

Wes pouted but fell into step with Blair, swinging his arms around excitedly. At least they didn’t seem to mind the lack of extravagance surrounding the mall. Or maybe they did and were too polite to actually make it obvious. Blair hoped that wasn’t the case.

They’d been having a decent hangout so far. They’d gone to the arcade, where, in a flurry of excitement, they went from game to game like kids in a candy store. Once they finished each and every arcade game, Blair ended up the victor of the day for once in his life. Wes barely won anything at all. After a passionate rant about how rigged arcades were, he tried to sneak away a ball from the basketball machine, but a particularly withering look from some underpaid 18 year old sent him shuffling away to put it back. James went with him, giggling and mocking him quietly for always getting caught. Dinner plans were cancelled once James explained just how much popcorn Wes liked to inhale during movies, so now they wandered the mall aimlessly.

It was easy to forget just how rich those two were. Among the crowd of other people their age, Wes and James blended in seamlessly. Wes stood out the way any goth kid might, but that was it. Anyone who saw them would guess they were just like anyone else.

It was a surprisingly good distraction. Much more effective than schoolwork and reading, as much as Blair hated to admit it. Wes was talkative and animated, which allowed Blair to remain as silent as he liked. On the other hand, James seemed to care about Edgewood courses just as much as Blair did, so when Blair did have to speak, it could be about the summer readings for Honors English or their extracurricular plans.

That only lasted a short while, though.

Wes groaned loudly. “Can we not talk about school? We’ve got, like, one more week of vacation. I’d like to enjoy it in peace, thank you.”

“As if you even go to class half the time,” James said, rolling his eyes.

“Hey. I still passed middle school. Do you know how hard it is to calculate exactly how many absences I can have in each class without failing?”

That sounded like Alex. Blair ignored the pang in his chest.

“You’re not getting into Columbia if you keep doing that,” James said. Wes started to speak, but James interrupted sharply, “And don’t mention the trophy husband thing again.”

“The what?” That startled Blair out of his self-deprecating thoughts, at least.

“Don’t ask,” James said.

“I aspire to nothing,” Wes said proudly, “which takes a lot of hard work, you know. I’ve had to learn so many important skills for that. Being a trophy husband isn’t easy.”

Blair’s lips quirked up. “Like?”

Wes glanced around the crowded mall. A sly look entered his eyes. “I can spot athletes in any environment. All kinds of athletes, too.”

Blair stared at him. “And that’s a skill because…?”

“Because athletes are the best group to be a trophy husband to. Unconventional, sure. My parents will kill me over it, but whatever. And there’s all kinds of different jocks. There’s the ones at school, who fucking suck. Liam Kingston and those lacrosse assholes. Don’t even get me started. Soccer’s the best one. Basketball’s second best, maybe. Football not so much.”

“Soccer?” Blair repeated, feeling his cheeks heat up.

Wes pointed at a group of teens hanging around a foosball table. His numerous bracelets jingled. “See? Jocks. Out in the wild. The socks, the foosball shit. The bodies. One of those guys could grow up to be the next… Rich sports guy. I don’t know shit about sports.”

“So much for that skill,” James said dryly.

Chuckling, Blair glanced at the group Wes was pointing to. His heart stopped. Among all those supposedly blatant athletes, one stood out like a flashing red light.

Seeing Alex after so long felt like being doused in cold water. He looked painfully familiar yet unfamiliar all at once. Nothing had changed at all. Blair could recognize the denim jacket he often wore out and that t-shirt he’d bought when they went out shopping earlier that vacation. His blonde hair looked a little more mussed than usual, but that was it.

He stopped walking. He just kept watching Alex, who looked bored as he sipped a milkshake and watched the other guys scream over a game of foosball. Dom, who’d been lurching over the table, suddenly jumped into the air and yelled happily over scoring a goal. He immediately bear-hugged Alex.

Something burned in Blair’s gut. It seemed to spread to his skin, burning him all over. He’d never actually experienced jealousy before. The realization should’ve embarrassed him, but his thoughts were frozen.

“It’s like watching Animal Planet,” James said, and though he meant to joke, he looked a little frightened.

“Let’s just turn around,” Blair mumbled. “Movie theater is the other way and-”

“Blair?”

It wasn’t Alex calling out to him, but Dom, who’d stopped yelling long enough to notice them standing there. Alex seemed to startle out of his thoughts. He glanced up right as Blair looked at him, and their eyes locked.

Alex looked away.

“You know those guys?” Wes raised an eyebrow.

Before Blair could answer, Dom bounded over to him. God, what a fucking cliché. Of course they’d be here. Where else would they be? It wasn’t like their town had anything else to offer. It could hardly be called a town to begin with.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Dom exclaimed. “I was starting to think you died or some shit.”

Blair just furrowed his brows. Did Alex not explain anything to Dom? He glanced at the blonde, as though that’d provide any insight, but Alex still wouldn’t look at him.

“Um, hey.”

“You didn’t even show up to our tryouts,” Dom said. “Dude, that school is fucked up if they got you working all summer already. How much work did they even give you?”

Blair didn’t know how to respond. Did Alex make that excuse up instead of telling the truth, or did Dom just make that assumption himself? What had Alex said about their friendship “breakup”, if anything?

“A lot,” he said after a moment. “Um. Guys, this is Dom. He’s a… friend. From my old school. This is Wes and James. They go to Edgewood.”

Surprised, Dom glanced at them, like he just now noticed them. “Damn, Halloween already?”

“Football player, huh?” Wes said.

Blair couldn’t make himself pay attention. One of Alex’s soccer friends moved aside and gestured at Alex to take his spot at the foosball table. Without sparing Blair a glance, Alex set his milkshake down and went to start playing.

Maybe the distance was getting to his head. They’d never spent this much time apart before. He’d grown so familiar with every detail of Alex, from his microexpressions to his scent to the sound of his voice when he laughed. But now it felt like seeing him for the first time all over again. A strange feeling swelled in his chest, stranger than the jealousy earlier, but less surprising.

He walked closer. “Hey.”

Alex focused on the foosball table.

Time seemed to drag on, but nothing happened. He watched as Alex scored a goal against his opponent, some guy Blair barely recognized.

Blair swallowed his pride. “Hey,” he said, louder this time.

“Hey.” The word came out in a toneless mumble. Alex scored another goal.

An answer. That was more than Blair expected. His heart soared with the stupidity of hope. “Can we talk?”

No answer for a while. In one sharp and almost angry move, Alex blocked the other guy’s players from scoring. “About?”

“I just want to ask you something,” Blair replied, all too aware of the amount of people surrounding them.

“I’m busy.” Another violent twist, and Alex scored yet another goal. “Go hangout with your friends.”

Blair exhaled. All those texts and attempted phone calls that went unanswered kept haunting him. He couldn’t finish summer vacation like that. He couldn’t even imagine starting Edgewood like this, alone. “Alex, please, just-”

An arm swung around his shoulder and pulled him close. Dom was always too touchy, slapping people on the back and hugging them like he was constantly drunk. “Dude, I think that ginger kid’s about to kill me. You guys wanna join us for dinner?”

“He can’t,” Alex said sharply.

Dom glanced between them with a questioning look. Blair tried to disentangle himself from Dom’s arm.

“I can’t,” he said slowly. “I gotta go to the movies.”

Alex’s brows furrowed.

“That’s fucked,” Dom said, finally pulling away.

Shuddering, Blair crossed his arms over his chest after a particularly icy breeze hit him. He kept revising potential apologies in his head, like there were some magic words he could conjure up to fix everything and undo the mistakes he made. But nothing came to mind.

“Blair?” Wes called out. He glanced behind him to see the Edgewood duo lingering a few feet away, glancing at them curiously.

Alex straightened up, having won 5-0. He finally turned to look at Blair, his eyes unreadable. “I think your friends are calling you.”

With his tongue crushed between his teeth and his heart in his throat, Blair finally turned away and walked down the hallway. He could hear Alex’s friends yelling over the game, but Alex’s voice never reached him.

ALEX POV

He knew he shouldn’t be mad. This was what he wanted. In his worst hours, tossing and turning in his unfamiliar childhood bedroom, he’d fantasized about all the ways he’d push Blair away. He thought of all the things he’d tell him, casual and apathetic, like this separation meant nothing to him. Eventually, after prolonged agony, Blair would be forced to accept he no longer mattered to Alex. And Alex…

Well, he hadn’t thought that far.

It should’ve been easier. The plan was to get closer to his other friends, focus on practice, and find all sorts of ways to fill the time he’d usually spend with Blair. Which was every other minute of the day, usually. Thankfully, Dom and the other guys from soccer sought him out constantly. Sports tryouts came and went. Moving trucks pulled up to the house and unloaded all of Lindsay’s belongings: floral furniture, lamps in the shape of angels, and, for some ungodly reason, teddy bear statues.

And Blair wasn’t there for any of it.

They would’ve laughed at all of her decor. They would’ve joked about all the dumb things Dom said. Then they’d unwind at the end of the day, fighting over whether Mock Trial tryouts or soccer tryouts were harder.

It was as though something else had possessed him these last few weeks, something stronger than whatever weak part of him clung to Blair for so long. It enjoyed the thrill of vengeance, of feigning indifference, and the worse Blair’s desperation got, the more this thing - like a sentient monster living in his head - began to consume him.

Of course Blair would show up with them. The two rich kids he’d decided were worth more than his own friendship. It felt so good to reject him at that moment, even better than ignoring all his texts and calls.

See, you made your choice. Now you know how it feels.

Alex walked up the path to his house. Although the exterior of each house looked identical, the Donovan house always stood out as the only one without toys or decor on their front lawn. Uncrossing his arms, Alex squinted down the street. Harrie’s car wasn’t there, which meant Blair might still be at the mall.

His heart twisted with something uglier than jealousy. There was something pained and childlike coiled there too, something he knew he should hate though he couldn’t even recognize it. He couldn’t recognize anything about himself nowadays.

The door to the garage was open. Some silver Volkswagen crowded besides Joshua’s Toyota. Alex groaned. Great. Perfect way to end the day.

He opened the door, thankfully left unlocked by Matt, and didn’t even get a step in before he heard a woman’s high-pitched laughter.

“Fuck’s sake,” he mumbled.

“Alex? Is that you?” It was as though Alex’s misery summoned Matt. He’d already been walking downstairs. “I told you I could pick you up.”

“Bryce took us,” Alex said, throwing his denim jacket off. He’d been about to toss it on the couch, but something caught his eye. Something orange and furry and round, curled up like it owned the place. “Matthew. What the fuck is that?”

“Pumpkin,” Matt said, shooting him a look that clearly conveyed the warning: ‘don’t start’.

“Pumpkin,” Alex repeated blandly. The creature finally stirred and lifted its head. A pair of unimpressed green eyes stared back at him, like he was the one intruding on the thing’s home.

“Don’t tell me you’re about to start fighting the cat, too,” Matt said dryly.

“So we own a cat now.” Scowling, Alex tossed the jacket on the other couch instead. Pumpkin kept side-eyeing him. “Great.”

“Alex, seriously.” Matt started to say something else, but seemed to give up. He lowered his voice. “Go say hi to her at least.”

“Um, fine.” Alex turned to face the cat, hands on his hips. “Hi, Pumpkin. I’m sorry they named you that.”

“Go say hi to Lindsay.” Matt did not sound amused.

“God, I’m not an Applebee’s host. At least tip me.”

He started to turn, but Matt immediately spoke up. “Hold on a second.”

“What now?”

Matt glanced in the direction of the kitchen, as though they could be overheard. Alex doubted Joshua even cared to hear anything involving him.

“Who’d you hang out with?”

“Dom.” Alex shrugged. “Kurt M. Jake A. Jake M. Trent T. Trent M. Trent L-”

“Is that a joke?”

“Hunter P. and Hunter S. and…”

“Okay, okay.” Matt held up a hand. “And Blair?”

Just like that, Alex’s heart darkened. He scowled and turned away. “No. And this is the millionth time you asked, by the way. I’m keeping count.”

“I just don’t think you should end a friendship like that over one night,” Matt chided. “You know he’s called me too over this, right?”

“I don’t think it’s your business anyway. Why do you care?”

The vengeful thrill had been sucked out of it. Now all that remained was that sharp, twisting pain of a loneliness he couldn’t grow accustomed to, and the reminder that he genuinely didn’t mean anything to Blair. Not enough to be prioritized over Edgewood strangers. Not enough to be the priority for just one fucking night. One night! It was all he asked for.

He tolerated months of distance and strange behaviors. Blair stopped responding to inside jokes the way he used to. He acted dull and reserved when he used to be playful. He stared at Alex for far too long, but then refused to speak. He started taking too long to respond to texts, refused to answer Alex’s questions, jumped away when they accidentally touched, and refused to tell Alex that he finally got into Edgewood.

The signs were all clear.

“I’m worried about you. I tell you that all the time, and I know you don’t want to hear it. But you…” Matt hesitated, a rare incident. “You can’t always trust what your mind tells you, Alex. For a lot of reasons. You’ve learned things from the wrong people and I’m worried it’s… just poisoned your mind in a way.”

“Stop,” Alex hissed. Did he have to start this with Lindsay so near?

“I don’t think you realize just how bad these things are getting.” Matt gave him a long look. Again with the cryptic advice. Alex rolled his eyes. “And you’re just going to make it all worse for yourself. And you’re going to hurt other people in the process, which is already bad, but that’s not even my concern here. I’m more worried about what you’re doing to yourself.”

Alex looked away to stare at Pumpkin, who seemed to be judging him at this moment as much as Matt was.

“God, I can’t wait for you to leave next week,” Alex muttered before turning to march to the kitchen, where those feminine tones kept ringing from. At least it’d get Matt off his back, as much as his stomach churned whenever he had to acknowledge her existence. His future stepmom, as Dom liked to say. God. It made him want to hurl.

Alex lingered at the entrance to the kitchen as always, taking in the scene before him. Joshua was chuckling to himself, facing away from Alex and chopping vegetables. And there she sat, with long (fake, dyed) red hair and acrylic nails, in an office outfit that seemed much too stylish and girlish.

What a domestic scene.

No step-parent would ever register as real to him. Why should he accept some random woman into his life just because Joshua decided he wanted a girlfriend? That relationship meant nothing to him, had nothing to do with him, and could never, ever replace-

“Oh, Alex! I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” Lindsay beamed at him.

“Hi,” Alex deadpanned.

Joshua barely glanced at him. “Back already?”

“Did you get to see Pumpkin?” Lindsay said. She spoke in such a high, annoying way, despite being in her thirties. “She’s a little scared, so be careful when approaching her.”

That cat did not seem scared. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Yeah. She’s… friendly.” Alex forced a half-assed smile. “I should go get changed.”

He glanced at Joshua. Joshua did not look back at him.

So I’m getting replaced too. At least he knew he wasn’t alone in that.