alex's backstory. or why he kept talking about gage so early on.

[wellownedbkup]

If the quiet ones commit the crimes, Alex was guilty. He just didn't know of what yet. He relaxed back into the bed and smiled up at Gage lazily.
"What're you smiling about?"
Alex shook his head. /You're a dream,/ he signed.
"Thank you," Gage said, blushing faintly. "I almost agree… if it was you we were talking about."
/Me?/ he asked.
"Yes, you." Gage kissed Alex's forehead softly. "What makes you think otherwise?”
Alex blushed. /Dunno. Afraid./
“Afraid? Of what?”
/Dreams disappear. And mocked by hopeless longing to regain, as the poet says./ Alex shrugged. /If I try too hard… I feel like I’ll lose you,/ he admitted sheepishly.
“Aww, sweetheart,” Gage sighed. “I’m always yours.”
/Always?/ Alex smiled softly. /I like the sound of that./
Gage plopped himself down on the bed, setting Alex on his lap. “Always is all I’ve ever wanted.”
Alex grinned widely and tried to hold it back. /You sound so romantic. Been practicing much?/ Gage laughed and shook his head. That caused Alex to drop his head and give a silent sob. Gage stopped immediately and stared.
“Alex? Sweetheart?” He tilted his head up and searched those tear-moistened depths for an answer. “What is it, love?”
A tear slid slowly down his cheek. /I wish I could hear you laugh,/ he signed simply and brushed the tear away. Before Gage could find a proper reply, Alex sighed shakily. /Gage, I’m missing out on so much. I can’t speak. I don’t always hear everything. I’m blessed with sight and hands, but for those two abilities, God took away how I could be with you in everything. I don’t want to be me if I can’t have all of you./
Gage was speechless for a moment. He signed the little bit he could remember on his own. /I dream of you. How often does the dream seek out the dreamer?/ “I love you, Alex. You and no one else. Why would you want to be anything but you?”
/I want to be someone not mocked by all the things I’ve lost. I want to tell you how I feel without substituting simplicity for meaning./ He frowned. /Do you know how hard it is to cut every sentence down to the bare minimum and then hear someone speak so eloquently… so beautifully? It hurts me, love./ Alex ran his fingers lightly down his arms and turned away from Gage, comforted by the abrasive scars on his fingertips.
He never heard Gage pull on his clothes and leave, the key to the door tossed into a bowl of marbles, clinking in finality.
Nor did he hear the slam of brakes outside his apartment and the dull thuds of a body meeting metal, asphalt and his Maker.