Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was cold. Alexander rested his head on the window of his (new) caseworker's black Altima. Fewer than 10 words had been exchanged between the two that morning, and afternoon was sneaking its way across the sky. Alexander twisted his hands inside his black threadbare hoodie, the scruffy material was scratchy against his raw knuckles. It stung, but Alexander found his didn't much care. 

     The highway was mostly empty, and it made sense. It was 10:54 AM on a Thursday after all, not exactly the biggest hour for errands. The landscape to Alex's right was passing so fast that it blurred. Trees and little barbed wire fences. "We're out of the city..." He pointed out monotonously, knowing it was obvious. He fidgeted with his zipper, not because he was nervous, but because his hands wanted -- needed -- something to do. 

    "Yeah," Kitty said, her voice barely above a whisper, "It's gonna be a long ride, Mr. Hamilton." She paused, as if trying to reword her thoughts. "We're going out of state-"

    As soon as the words escaped her mouth Alexander shot back, "The FUCK?!"

    "Language! Hear me out..." Kitty said, her soft tone slipping momentarily to scold the child. "You've been in the system forever. Technically, you're already a bend in the foster care rules: You don't have a biological family to return to-" Alex either grimaced or bit his tongue to keep from cursing her out, "- and frankly, this might be your last shot for anything but a group home. I hate to be the bad guy here, Alexander, but you've got to clean up your act. I busted my ass -- excuse my language -- to get you this placement. Please. If this doesn't work out, then you might have to back to one of your old group homes and I don't... I don't want that for you." Kitty's typical soft, sweet, and calm demeanor had been replaced with something unfamiliar and almost jarring to Alex. Frustration, fear and something seemingly caring. "The Washingtons have been through the ringer. They have a son about your age, they've dealt with some of the more... traumatic cases, and frankly, it's the best you're ever going to get, so please, please, don't be so... aggravating about this and for once in your life just... have a little faith. Please."

    Despite Kitty's heartwarming pleas, Alexander scoffed, rearranged his posture into something more condescending. "Trust you?! Have a little faith?!! Give me a break, I'll be out of there, two weeks tops, because nobody wants to deal with my fucked up, insecure-"

     "Enough!" Kitty pulled over and slammed on the breaks. "Alexander, I love you, but for God's sake, shut up and listen." Kitty's anger caused fear to bloom in Alex's gut, tying his stomach in knots and braids and twists.

     "I'm sorry," He whispered, "I'll... I'll give it a try."

     "That's all I ask... please."

     The rest of the car ride was silent as afternoon turned to evening. 

    It was 6:00, and Alex was starving. They had gone so far away from the city, so secluded that the only things that were really visible are scattered houses and various fast food restaurants on the exits and service roads. Against his will, Alex's stomach gave a sad growl. Kitty glanced at him and smiled, "There's a Taco Bell on this next exit, but we'll be there in five. Your choice." 

     Alex had chosen to wait. The car pulled up to a large home, on an acre or so of land. No animals, but the property was grand. Alexander itched, he definitely did not belong here. "This is the place!" Kitty chirped, smiling broadly, which eased Alex's anxiety just slightly, but it didn't last. Alex hauled his suitcase and backpack up to the door, which was also absolutely huge. Kitty saw him tense and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Just wait, you'll love it here," She whispered, and then she knocked.

     Some loud words, mumbled, a young voice, a deep commanding voice (which made Alex visibly gulp), and sweet, feminine one. Finally the door swung open and a woman with copper skin and wispy dark hair with strands of grey beamed at them. Alex gave her a calculated stare. "Mrs. Washington!" Kitty said brightly, "So nice to see you again. This is Alexander." She gave Alex a cue to introduce himself.

     The woman shook his hand, "Martha. Come on in" 

     Alexander and Kitty trudged through the doorway. Martha and Kitty's conversation was vague background noise to Alexander. He took everything in; The mile-high ceilings, expensive looking art on the walls, intricate molding, gorgeous rugs. Alexander most definitely  did not belong here. He stared at his feet, shuffling them against the crimson rug in the entryway. Suddenly a voice, sharp and deep, cut through the now familiar sound of Martha and Kitty.

     "You must be Alexander," The voice said, "Glad to see you made it safely." Alex felt himself jump, and immediately kicked himself for doing so. He forced himself to look up, and he almost regretted doing so. The voice belonged to a large, towering man. 'He could easily squash you'  his brain supplied unhelpfully. 

     "Yes, uh.. Yes sir," Alex stammered, "Thank you." It was short, clipped, speaking, something Kitty only heard from Alexander very rarely. Her attention turned to The Giant. 

     "Mr. Washington!" She exclaimed, her voice raising a few octaves, "I can't thank you enough for opening your door to Alexander." She pointed her glance to him respectively, "It's such a wonderful opportunity."

     Maybe no one else heard it, but Alexander didn't miss that spiteful, warning tone Kitty used to get his attention. If he didn't know any better he probably would have told her off for making him look so... ignorant? Ungrateful? Unfortunately, though, he did know better, so he only nodded, giving everyone a terse, just-enough smile.

     Martha showed Alexander around while Kitty and Mr. Washington sorted out all of the fine details of Alexander's stay. Martha led Alex up the stairs. "Steep..." Alex remarked, mostly to himself. Of course she knew the stairs were steep. She lives here. At the top of the stairs there was a large living area, full of model planes and automobiles, 'A hobby of our son's' Martha had supplied. Beyond this room was a media room decked out with video games, and a long hallway of bedrooms.

     "Gilbert has a handful of friends that stay over pretty often. This room is yours." She said, turning the door handle and revealing a large space. The wallpaper was a deep forest green, complete with gold accents. There was a huge wooden desk near the closet at the back of the room. The loft bed sat high with a plush looking comforter neatly wrapped around the mattress, and a cool little reading nook below, complete with some beanbags. 

     Alexander must've been quiet for too long, because Martha spoke softly, "Is there something wrong?"

     He quickly answered with, "No! No, no not at all it's just-" he cleared his throat, "Wh-Who am I uh... who am I sharing this room with?"

     Martha gave him a funny look. "You're... not sharing with anyone. I'm sorry if that was unclear. This is your room. Gilbert's is just across the hall."

     Alexander fidgeted. Great, now he'd offended her, "I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude-"

     "It's not rude, honey." Alex winced, "I understand this isn't something you're used to." She said kindly. "I had Gilbert stay out of the house until this evening to give you some time to settle in, but said he did want to give you something." She motioned to a wrapped box on the bed, maybe a foot tall. "I'll let you unpack and get some rest. I'll be downstairs if you need anything." And with that, the upstairs went silent. 

Chapter Text

     Alex didn't remember falling asleep, but as he rubbed his eyes it became increasingly clear that the past day's events had not been kind of stress induced hallucination.  He raised his had to rub the sleep from his eyes but was met with... a stuffed animal? Right. The gift from Mr. and Mrs. Washington's son, a stuffed lion with a soft mane and and big beady eyes, sat on his lap. Alexander sat up and looked around, hearing chatter coming from either downstairs or down the hall. He looked at the clock above the door (was that always there?). 6:48 it read. "Awesome..." Alex mumbled to himself. He'd either missed dinner or it was going to happen soon.  He clamored out of the loft bed, falling on his back. There was an audible BAM as he hit the floor. He groaned. Nothing broken, He noted, Except maybe a bit of trust. 

     Footsteps came pounding up the stairs. "Alexander?! Everything alright?" Oh great, it was boomy-voiced Mr. Washington.

     "No, yeah I'm good. I'm great." Alex replied, standing up and balancing himself out. Clutz.  The door gently opened. This had to have been the first time Alexander saw Mr. Washington's face, because the concern that lined it almost had Alex's guard down. "I'm okay." He said, forcing a smile.

     Mr. Washington's expression didn't change. "What happened?"

     Alex raked this fingers through his hair. "I uh, I fell out of the bed. I was trying to climb down. My, uh... my foot got tangled," he said, motioning to the wad of bedding dangling off of the bed. 

     "You're sure you're all right?" Mr. Washington said, making his way over.

     Alex moved back as The Giant moved closer. "Yeah, I-I'm good! Just uh... shaken if anything." Stop fucking stammering. "Thanks for worrying, though, Mr. Washington."

     "George is fine." Mr. Washi- George - said with a smile, "Dinner should be ready any moment. Gilbert came home about half an hour ago and he's dying to meet you. Join us?"

     Alex blinked. Did George just ask if he would come eat dinner? Huh... that's... never happened before... "Sure! I'll be right down." Alex replied, now anxious for George to leave.

     George lingered a moment, as if he had something else to say, but finally turned away,  muttering, "Please wash your hands."

     Alex headed downstairs, panic rising in his throat. The first meal was always the hardest. Maybe if I said I felt sick?  No, don't want to offend anyone. And their son? Gilbert?  What if he's not as welcoming as Martha? How the hell do I even know if I can trust any of them, I should call Kitty. She would-

     "Alexander!"  Alexander jumped at the mention of his name, startled, "Have a seat!" he now registered the voice as belonging to Martha. He cradled that sweet jovial tone in his heart. 

     "U-Uh.. yes ma'am. Where would you like me to sit?" He asked. 

     Martha gestured vaguely toward the table, flipping her wrist in a circle, "Ohh, it doesn't matter. Anywhere is fine." Who knew such a simple decision could become so daunting.

     After realizing that George would likely sit at the head of the table, with Martha to his right, that left only two options. Gilbert would likely sit next to George, meaning Alex would sit... across from him. Yeah. That made sense. Suddenly, a new voice broke through. Gosh, Alex thought, So noisy for a family of three.

     "Papa! Where is he?! I've been so anxious to meet- OH!!" A tall, lean, teenage boy with wide eyes and a big, bright smile scurried up to Alexander, "You must be my new brother!!"

     Alex didn't respond immediately.  The boy's... enthusiasm had stunned him, if only momentarily. "Gilbert," Martha cut in patiently, "Alexander has had a long day, could you tone down the energy just a touch?" Gilbert only now seemed to register that he'd shocked his guest.

     "My apologies," Gilbert said, sticking out his hand, "My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette. I am aware that this," he paused to giggle quietly, " this is a bit of a mouthful. Maman and Papa call me Gilbert, but my friends call me Lafayette, or Laf for short. It is easier. You must be Alexander! I've been very excited to have someone around here my age to talk to. Have you seen your room yet? Did you like the stuffed animal I got you? I realized it may be a little unorthodox, but I wanted to get something universal, since I didn't know what you liked! You don't have to sleep with it or anything, you can, ohh... put it on a shelf as a memento or... orrr..."

     George cleared his throat, "Gilbert..." he warned gently.

     "Oh!" Gilbert exclaimed exasperatedly, "I was rambling again. My apologies, I.. how you say?" He looked to his parents for help, "Have a lot of words??"

     Martha chuckled, "You're a chatterbox," she teased. 

     Alex realized he hadn't returned Gilbert's greeting yet. He kicked himself for being rude. "It's okay! Yeah, I'm Alex, and the lion is cute," Keep it short and sweet. 

     "Well Alex," Martha said in that ever joyous tone, "We weren't sure what you ate, so I kept it simple. Spaghetti and meatballs, Caesar salad, and garlic bread. How hungry are you?"

     Alex's heart thumped violently at that. How hungry are you???  What a loaded question. "Umm..."

     Seeing that Alex couldn't find his words, Martha said quietly, "How about I just give you a little bit, and if you're still hungry after that, you can get some more." Alex nodded.

     She saw how nervous you were. You couldn't have come up with 'just a little' or 'pretty hungry!' are you dumb?? Alex sighed silently, fiddling with the hem of his thin tee shirt. Ran his finger over a small hole, remembered what made it. 

~*~

"Stupid boy!" Mr. Parks screamed, his wife trying desperately to calm him down, "You ain't worth shit. You belong to ME! "

"I belong to no one!" Alex screeched back, balling his fists. Here we go again.

"That's it." Mr. Parks tore free of Mrs. Parks' grasp, lunging at Alex with a cigarette still between his teeth. Alex writhed, trying to escape his attacker.

I am not a victim, I am not a victim, I am NOT A VICTIM I AM NOT A VICTIM I AM NOT A VICTIM I AM NOT I AM NOT I AM NOT I AM NOT I AM NOT

I am.

  Burning. Cigarette through his shirt. Burning and stinging and a blow to his face, his stomach.

again

again

again

is this pain?

His ears rang, Mrs. Parks cries drowned by the fuzz in his head. 

Pain turned to numbness.

And Light

Turned to dark. 

~*~

     "Alex?" His head snapped up, turning toward the speaker.

     "Yessir?" 

     George's face was a mixture of concern and... fear? No.. "Everything alright?"

     "Yessir." 

     "Are you sure?"

     "Yes." Alex whispered, "I'm sure, I'm fine."

     Martha now spoke, "You're pale, are you feeling alright?"

     "I'm fine." Alex repeated. No. I'm not fine. I'm falling through ice. I'm drowning. I can't breathe I can't breathe I can't-

     "How about dessert?" Gilbert... Lafayette? Who knows, suggested.

     Alex cleared his throat, "Actually, may I be excused?"

     "Of course dear," Martha soothed, "Would you like a scoop of ice cream to bring upstairs with you?"

     "No thanks." He turned on his heel and scurried up to his bedroom. Alone. Finally. 

Chapter Text

     The next morning Alexander was awakened by the sunlight leaking through his blinds. How late had he slept? He scrubbed his eyes, a bit startled by his unfamiliar surroundings. Green? What was... where was... Oh. Oh no. Alex shot up. Dinner. The flashback. He was surely in for it.  Shit. Shit shit shitshitshit.... He scrambled to change, trying not to look a complete disaster and stumbled out into the hallway. Alex's fingers tingled and twitched with anxiousness. His short, shallow breaths were the only sound in the home. The quiet felt like it would swallow him up whole, taking him away from the noise in his own head. The noise he was sure everyone else could hear. 

     The fuzz of panic grew from a faint vibration to a roar as Alex bolted down the stairs. He panted, thinking himself alone. He ran his hands over his face, his breath absolutely reeking. He struggled to catch his breath and sauntered toward the kitchen. 

     "Alexander?" 

     His head snapped toward the speaker. Gilbert. Great. 

     "Alexander?" he repeated, "Is everything all right?"

     Alex swallowed. God, his mouth was dry. Speak up. "Um, yeah, no I'm good." he spat out quickly. Water.

     Gilbert gave Alex a strange look as he clamored through the cabinets in search of a glass. 

     "What are you looking for?"

      Alex cleared his throat, "I.. um... glass of water?"

      Gilbert stood up, and it was only now that Alex realized just how tall Gilbert was. Despite being skinny, Alex was fairly sure that the Washington's son could make a rug out of him with ease. 

     Gilbert leaned over him. Run. Alex flinched and jumped to the side as Gilbert pulled... a glass... from the cabinet. Right. Idiot. "This is what you were needing, no?" Alex nodded, just barely and took the glass sheepishly. God, that was embarrassing... He felt his cheeks tingle with humiliation. 

     "Yeah, thanks," he whispered. Gilbert shot him a wide smile. 

     "Join me for breakfast?"

     Alex looked around, "But.. Your parents?" 

     Gilbert shrugged, "Out shopping for you I think. I heard them leave about half an hour ago. They figured you'd sleep in after last night."

     "Last night?" Alex queried, his voice wavering. 

     Gilbert nodded. "You seemed.. ah... forgive me.." he struggled to find the word, "Terrifié.. um.."

     "Terrified," Alex supplied helpfully, not letting the word itself get to him. 

     Gilbert tilted his head, "How did you..?"

     "Grew up in the west indies." Alex clipped, poking his head into the pantry.

     "Really?! I'll bet it's beautiful."

     "Sure, I guess."

     "You guess?" Gilbert prodded.

     Alex shrugged, "I mean it's nice to look at, but the people there suck. You've got to speak a little bit of everything to get by at the docks. I'd... really prefer to leave it at that."

     "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." 

     Another shrug, "You mentioned breakfast?"

     Gilbert flashed that familiar grin, "Yes!! There's cereal there in the pantry, or I could cook some eggs or oatmeal?"

     "Whatever's most convenient for you." Alex mumbled.

     "Eggs and toast it is!"

     Alex tried to reciprocate the boy's smile, but felt awkward on his face, "Sounds great."

     After breakfast Gilbert showed Alex all his model cars, planes, some famous landmarks and monuments. Alex had to admit, they were really well made. Meticulous. All handmade, hand painted. Alexander felt himself relax, let his shoulders drop a moment. Gilbert was intense for sure. But he was kind and genuine... and unfortunately observant.

     "What's this?" He pointed to a purple scar on Alex's jawline. 

     "Um, a... a burn."

     "How'd you manage that?"

     Alex shifted uncomfortably. "Um.." Don't tell him. He'll resent you. He picked at a hangnail as he searched for an excuse. But Gilbert had already caught on.

     "Oh... Someone did this to you." 

     Alex curled up where he was sitting on the floor, picked at the carpet now, "Mhm."

     "Have you told anyone?"

     "Easier said than done, but... yes. More or less."

     Gilbert looked unconvinced, "More or less, huh?"

     Alex shrugged (again), "I mean, it was less of... me telling someone and more of someone finding out? like, I didn't tell you, but it doesn't take much to put the pieces together," he took a deep breath. "Soo.. yeah. I mean, my social worker knows, but there's only so much she can do, you know?"

     "Well you're safe here." Gilbert stated firmly, "I've been with the Washingtons since I was eleven, and neither of them has ever  laid a hand on me. Rarely so much as shouted."

     "That's good." Alex whispered. "I'm glad."

     "I wasn't finished. They've never laid a hand on me and they will never lay a hand on you either Alexander. I can promise you that." Gilbert laid a gentle hand on Alex's shoulder, and for once Alex didn't flinch.

     "Thank you. For that." Alex said, "I... It's good to... You know I..." breathe  "Thanks."

     "You're my brother. There's no need to thank me. We're family, no?"

Family. Maybe....

Probably not.

     The boys chatted the afternoon away, topics ranging from lighthearted to heavy. Alex found Laf  (Gilbert had insisted Alex call him by his nickname) very easy to talk to. Somehow, the conversation had shifted toward politics. And where there was politics, there was gay.

     "Where do you stand on LGBTQ+ rights?" Laf had asked nonchalantly.  

     "Uh... How do you mean?" Alex stumbled purposefully, hoping to gain a better understanding of how his foster brother felt before saying too much. 

     "Do you not know what that is?"

     "No! No, I do, I do. It's just... I don't want to like... overstep." 

     "You won't offend me." Laf supplied bluntly.

     "I guess I'm.. for? It? I mean, I think that love is a basic human emotion, and the government has no right to restrict the way people express themselves or the way they feel about others. That's our job, you know? If you love another guy that's your choice. If you feel you want to transition from you birth sex, that's your choice. If you feel that traditional binaries are stupid, you're allowed to fucking feel that way." Language. 

     Laf giggled, "Well said." Alex rubbed his neck. 

     "S-Sorry about that. I'm prone to... outbursts." 

     Lafayette shook his head, "Non, I think you're heart's in the right place. I completely agree with you."

     "Yeah.. I guess I just think that if America's 'trademark', for lack of a better term, is the idea that you can have your own opinions and not be... persecuted in any way, then the government should respect that, you know?" Alex ranted.

     The conversation shifted from there to travel, travel to summer, summer to school, school to friends. Well, Lafayette's friends. 

     "I have two close friends that spend the night almost every night. We told them they couldn't come over this week, so you could settle in and such."

     Alex blushed, "Oh nonono! You don't have to do that! It's all good. I don't want to like, ruin plans or anything..."

     "No it's quite alright. The only worry was John, really." Laf said solemnly.

     "John?"

     Laf shifted, "Uh, yes. One of my closest friends. He's probably the kindest person I've ever met. So sweet and caring. And talented beyond belief! But his father is... less than kind to him."

     "Oh..." Alex whispered.

     "Yes. And he tries his best you see. Always wants to do the right thing. Make his father proud, but no matter what he tries, it just... is never enough. It causes John to feel... a certain way about himself. It results in some... self destructive habits."

     Alex gulped. "Poor guy."

     Laf smiled, but not like before. This was sadder. Alex's heart hurt for them both. This person whom his foster brother cared for so much, and Lafayette himself, who only wanted to help his friend. 

     "I'd like to meet him." Alex said. Oooh. Brave, half pint.

      Laf's face lit up, "Really?!"

     "Sure. If they're friends with you, then they must be good people too."

     The days went on like that. Alex fell in love the soothing rhythm that the Washington home held. Weekend mornings with Laf, having deep conversations or watching documentaries. During the week, when Laf was at school, Alex would hole up in his room for most of the day, occasionally coming down to eat or chat with his caretakers. Alex was enrolled in the private school Lafayette attended. "Starting next week." Mr. Washington had said, "We'll introduce you to Gilbert's friends tomorrow, if that's alright? We just want you to have some people you can ask for help, sit with at lunch and such." Alex agreed despite the burning reluctance in his stomach. 

     That leads us to now. Alex is sitting in one of the comfy chairs in the parlor, curled tightly around a notebook. Hiding. From what? He didn't quite know. It's always better to be missing than to be conveniently placed.  

~*~

The Freedman house was crawling with children. The largest group home Alex had ever been in. 

Problem was, Alex was the oldest.

Problem was, Alex was one of only two boys.

Problem was, Alex hadn't yet learned what it meant to cower

Problem was, Mr. Freedman was an alcohilic

Problem was, Alex couldn't reach kitty

Problem was....

Alex was problematic. 

The TV room always reeked of alcohol.

Freedman always reeked of alcohol.

Even the youngest child there, Alana, who was only three

reeked of alcohol. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Pain tasted like beer

Fear felt like whiskey

Bruises were vodka

cuts burned with gin

~*~

     Alex's mind spiral was interrupted by the slamming of the nearby front door. He jumped, gasping for air and clenching the fabric of the velvety-blue seat that surrounded him with his fingers. A group of people one... two.. three... Three people... made their way to the parlor where Alexander was sitting. Alex now had a clear view of them and relaxed upon the realization that Lafayette was among them.  Alex tried to steady himself where he was sitting, tried to still his shaking. He angled his stare toward the guests' faces.

     "Alexander!! This is John and Hercules, my best friends. John, Hercules this is my brother Alexander!" Laf said, not missing the panic that now glazed Alex's eyes. 

     "Good to meet'cha! I'm Hercules!!" One nearly yelled, Christ , is everyone in Virginia this loud?! This boy stood several inches taller than Lafayette, who had to be six foot at least, and was built like a boulder. He wore a red headband or rather... a bandanna, that covered his forehead.  Alex heart thundered as his mind flipped between warnings of danger and affirmations of friend. 

    Alex smiled back, managing a meek "Hi." He turned his gaze to the other boy, John?  who was absolutely tiny. He was short, maybe 5'2, 5'3, and had slumpy shoulders. His hair was a cloud of bronze curls, tied into an unruly bun-like mass. His face was soft and kind, with gentle hazel eyes and round nose... and those freckles! Alex was stunned by his... subtle beauty. Laf nudged the boy to introduce himself, so freckles raised his hand just slightly and mumbled a "Hey" with a small smile. 

     Laf sighed, defeated, and introduced the boy, "This is John. You'll have homeroom with him starting Monday."

     Alex found his confidence then, "Cool! Nice to meet you both."

Chapter Text

     Meeting Hercules and John and actually knowing them were very different experiences. Laf had known the two for a long, long time. Been friends with them since he moved to america. He met Hercules first. Bright and energetic, much like himself, an absolute gentleman, but would crush anyone for treating his friends rough. They'd had nearly every class together in sixth grade. Hercules had a kind family, a Mom and Dad, an adopted little sister (a four-year-old Peruvian girl, Lila) and a dog named Axle. Lafayette had met them, spent afternoons with them at the movies, trusted them. They were a second family to him.

     John, on the other hand was different. He'd known John just about as long as he'd known Hercules, give or take a few days. Nonetheless, the three stuck together like glue. When they'd met him, John was a quiet sort of vibrant. He would say the most brilliant things, even if only Laf could hear him. He was a mama's boy, born and raised (for the most part) in Charleston, South Carolina. "Like hell, but worse," John would call it. His mom had battled cancer. Twice. Came back a third time when John was thirteen. He was a star athlete (given middle school standards, anyway) but he was an even better songwriter. This was a fact that no one knew until Lafayette had stumbled upon it. A ratty notebook, filled with page after page after page with what Laf had originally assumed was poetry, had fallen out of John's backpack one afternoon. Laf flipped through it, teasing only a little, when John suddenly snatched it out of his hands with tearful eyes and bolted. They didn't speak for weeks after that. And the topic never resurfaced. The three were inseparable through middle school, and even now in their sophomore year. But a lot has changed since then. 

~ Eighth Grade: Thursday, January 19 11:46 am ~

Earth Science was a tough subject in general, and their teacher, Dr. Prichard, was not making it any easier, so it was no surprise when the class held their breath when the phone rang. That usually meant someone was going home or to visit the principal.

Everyone followed Dr. Prichard's eyes as they fell to the one and only John Laurens. He gulped, praying he didn't accidentally do something to get him in trouble... again.

Dr. Prichard's face fell, her expression grave. "Yes, of course." she said. "Send my condolences." 

"Condolences?" Laf whispered to Hercules, "Do you think..."

Hercules' face tightened, "I sure hope not."

Everyone was staring at John now, as they awaited what Dr. Prichard had to say.

"Mr. Laurens," she said, squatting next to his desk, her voice a low whisper, "There's been an... emergency. Your aunt is here to pick you up."

John knew already. He'd said something felt off that morning. Said he'd felt sick. Like he should have stayed home that day. He should have stayed home that day...

     John was never quite the same after that. Who would be? But he never did quite bounce back. He hid in his own mind, only really came out of his shell once Herc and Laf could force him to, which took lots of manipulation and convincing. But there were moments. Moments when John would smile the way he did when he was a child. Moments when no one could make him be happy because he already was. But something just... changed that day. And Laf could never put his finger on it.

      Here's what Laf did know, though. After John's father, Henry, had been widowed, he also changed. Threw himself into his political career, forcing John to raise four younger siblings all alone. When things didn't go his way, Henry would drink, and when alcohol couldn't fix it, he would result to... other methods. Or at least, that was Laf's very strong hunch. John insisted that it was him clumsiness, or a fight he'd gotten into, but Laf was smarter than that.

     And it was the same way with Alexander. Lafayette knew that Alex was hurting more than he was letting on. He knew John was hurting more than he was letting on. And when he introduced the two, we saw a silent recognition in their eyes that seemed to say "Oh. You're like me?" But there was something else there too. Something Laf couldn't quite place, and he would do anything to find out what it was. To help his best friend. To help his brother. That was his job, wasn't it? To be there for them?

     "Earth to Laf?" John said, laughing, "It's your turn, Alex rolled doubles again."

     Right. Monopoly now. Life saving later. Laf smiled anyway and rolled the dice, moving his racecar six spaces.

     John was laughing. Alex wasn't shutting himself in. Lafayette was here. And four hours later, Hercules lost monopoly for the first time... to the one and only Alexander Hamilton. 

Chapter Text

     John and Hercules spent the night that night. Alex learned that they each had their respective rooms, but usually ended up camping out in Laf's room anyway. As was the case tonight. John and Alex were busy taping blankets to the wall to create a fortress attached to Laf's loft bed Hercules was fetching all the couch cushions and throw pillows he could find, and Laf was just trying to make sure no one was killed.  Alexander found himself laughing so hard his stomach hurt. It felt good. "Do you guys do this every time you spend the night?" he asked, tossing John the roll of tape.

     "Yep." Hercules said, "Although, sometimes we end up moving the entire ordeal into the media room, so our fort can have a T.V. the size of upper Manhattan."

     "Oddly specific." Alex noted, "But seriously, aren't you a tad old for pillow forts?" John shrugged.

     "It's fun. Nostalgic. And we don't do it every time." He said, pointing his gaze a Lafayette. Alex never did decipher that look's meaning. That was probably the most Alex had heard John talk since he'd met him that afternoon. 

     Laf's demeanor shifted after that, kept pulling John aside to whisper interrogatives. John didn't seem receptive, though. So Alex asked Hercules, "What's that about?"

     Hercules sighed, "I... don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you, but very long story short, John's dad's a jerk," he said, hoisting a couch cushion up above his head onto the bed, "Laf think he beats him, but I dunno. He doesn't really talk about it."

     Alex frowned, "You ever ask him directly? John I mean." 

     Hercules shrugged again, "I mean, he's just been really disconnected recently." 

     "Hm..." Alex hummed to himself. 

      When Laf and John reentered the room Alex gave John his best smile, and John returned it, his ears reddening. huh...

     The boys made it to about three a.m before they crashed. Or, at least, Laf and Hercules crashed. Alex feigned sleep, and John sat against the wall, spinning his phone between his fingers. Alex tired of watching like a creep, so he sat up. He'd caught John's attention for sure. For a while there, no one said a word. Just stared at each other, until John broke the connection, gazing out the window at the stars. 

     "You're not very chatty, are ya?" Alex said, hoping his tone was playful and not condescending. 

     John shrugged, "Guess I just don't have much to say."

     "Laf worries about you,"

     "I know. He's worried about you, too. Says you're scared of George." John said bluntly.

     Alex reddened. Deserved that. "Can't help it."

     John grunted noncommittally, tearing his gaze from Alexander again. Alex found himself yearning for this boy. What were his secrets? Why was he hiding? Why do I care? I want him to know my secrets. No. No, no one wants to hear that.

     "Sooo..." Alex droned, trying to keep the conversation afloat.

     John sighed, frustrated, and turned to Alexander once more. "What do you want?"

     Alex gulped, that's not a good sign, "Just figured we could chat, since neither of us can sleep."

     John's face was unreadable. Something there had hardened after Laf and Hercules went to sleep. A defense mechanism Alex recognized all too well. "There's nothing to 'chat' about." John's tone was course, almost mocking. Alex tried not to take it to heart.

     "Sorry..." Alex whispered, laying back down. 

     The Next Morning, the Washington home was busy as ever. Laf and Hercules clamored for breakfast, John and Alex trailing calmly behind them. John's coldness seemed to have softened, at least partially, in the safety of George and Martha's presence. 

     "Gilbert, easy on the bacon, you're not the only one eating!" Martha scolded, "Hercules, put. The chair. Down." At this both Alex and John giggled, then turned to each other, and John looked away. Again. What is his deal?

      "Alex, Eggs?" Martha queried from the stove as the boys settled into the breakfast nook. 

     "Yes, please, thank you ma'am."

     Martha rolled her eyes playfully, "How many times need I remind you it's-"

     "Martha. Right." Alex corrected, "Sorry."

     Martha just smiled, pecking George's cheek as he entered the kitchen. "Good morning!" he boomed, causing Alex (and John, he registered later) to flinch. 

     "Morning!" The boys chimed, digging in to the breakfast spread.

     "How did everyone sleep?" Martha asked, serving Alex his scrambled eggs.

     "Great." John said a little too quickly.

     "Good." Laf and Herc said in unison, then bursting out laughing, drunk on air.

     "Alexander?"

     Alex jumped, "Oh, um, fine ma'am- Martha! Martha..." He quickly corrected, reddening with embarrassment.

     Martha chuckled, "Anyone else want eggs before I turn off the stove?"

     "MEEE!" Laf shouted through a mouthful of muffin.

     "I doubt you can fit one more bite in that skinny body of yours." John remarked, a crooked smirk growing across his face.

     Laf scowled, "You're one to talk!"

     "Manners, Gilbert." George reminded, "Chew, swallow, then speak."

     Laf answered with an unintelligible affirmative, giving a thumbs up. Everyone laughed. Everyone.

     Laf's friends left late that afternoon, and Alexander found himself exhausted from the energy of it all. He currently was sitting in his bed, scrawling his thoughts into his tattered notebook. I can't let myself get too comfortable, he wrote, I'm bound to slip up sooner or later. And the there's that John kid. What is his deal?  He underlined 'deal' twice. One minute, he seems like the sweetest kid alive, but the minute him and I are alone, he's a completely different person. I think it's because he doesn't trust me. I get it, i don't seem trustworthy, but this kid is a whole new level of skittish. Like me, I guess, a looong time ago but-

A knock on the door

     "Come in!" Alex called, still not used to the privacy he was allowed in his own room. 

     Laf peeped his head in, "Just checking on you. You kind of shut in after they left."

     Alex smiled halfheartedly, "Oh, yeah, just tired I guess. Didn't get much sleep," at least it wasn't a whole lie. Or even a half one. He guessed it wasn't really a lie at all.

     "I see. Did you have fun? I know we can be a touch... ah... overwhelming? Is that the word?"

     Alex nodded, "Yeah that's the word, and it's no trouble. They're really... nice."

     Lafayette laughed, "I caught your hesitation. What did Hercules say?"

     Alex tensed, not wanting to say anything to bash his foster brother's friends, "Not Hercules..."

     Laf looked surprised, "Did John say something to you?"

     Alex sighed, "It's more what he didn't say. We both were up late, and when I tried talking to him he was just kind of..." he searched for the right adjective.

     "Cold? Shut down?" Laf supplied.

     "Yeah..."

     Laf chewed his lip, "I'll talk to him. I'm sure he didn't mean to hurt your feelings he's just... fragile, but he won't let anyone help him."

     "Nonono! I totally get it, you don't need to talk to him. You're totally right. He's... dealing with something, I wouldn't want to be a burden. He just seemed really cool, and I guess I just struck a nerve or something." Alex retorted.

     Laf smiled, "He's coming back later tonight. Had to go home and deal with something he said."

     "Spending the night again?"

     "He spends more time here than at his own home," Laf supplied, "Something is... very wrong. After his father ran for- oh, you don't need to know about that."

     Laf spent only a few more moments in Alex's room before leaving Alex to his room, leaving Alex to his thoughts. Who was this John kid anyway? he wrote Some son of a bigwig white politician, it seems. Nothing I should concern myself with, but then again, when have I ever done anything I should have?

Chapter Text

     Alex was still in his room when John returned, but came down curiously when he heard what he discovered to be a chair clamor to the floor. RUN. His heart thundered. Heard Laf's voice. "Are you okay? What the hell happened to you?" YOU'RE NEXT. GO

     Even though everything in his mind told him to run away, his heart pulled toward the foyer. He shuffled quietly behind where Laf, alongside Martha and Mr. Washington, gathered next to the front door. Laf's hands, Alex realized, held up a slumpy, pale, and defeated looking John. His lip was split, the beginnings of a bruise on his left cheek, cut beneath his brow. He was shuddering, his face porcelain white. He couldn't really seem to stand up straight, kind of swayed, and kept his eyes trained on the floor.

      Alex took a shaky breath, turning on his heel, hopefully making an escape as silent as his arrival, but as he tiptoed, a floorboard creaked below him. Shit. Martha spotted him, gave him a reassuring smile and whispered "Go on upstairs, I'll come talk to you in a bit." Alex nodded, trying not to make himself seen. He knew how humiliating that was, and to have someone you barely know witness it? Risk them thinking less of you? Alex cringed, hurting for his foster brother's friend, despite how cold he'd been to him.

     Alex made his way up the stairs, shutting the door behind him ever so gently, turning the handle so it wouldn't click. Felt a hot tear splash against his shirt? When did he start crying? Was that why Martha had been so gentle? He scrubbed his eyes, climbing into bed and pulling the thick comforter over his head. This couldn't be happening. The first time he was in a good home, and could behave, there was another troublesome kid around. Why couldn't he win?! 

     Alexander wasn't sure how much time had passed when Martha knocked on the door, poking her head in. "Alexander?"

     He popped his head out from the blanket, his hair a mess, "Yes ma'am?"

     "Oh, sorry, dear. Were you asleep?"

     Alex shook his head, "No. Just... thinking."

     Martha nodded, crossing the threshold, sitting in Alex's desk chair. 

     "What are you thinking about?" 

     Instead of answering, Alex asked another question. "Has this happened before?"

     "What? John coming to our door, beaten within an inch of his life? I've lost count." She said bitterly, but realized her harsh language almost immediately. She ran a hand over her face. She looked weary, "I'm sorry, it's just..." She took a long, long pause, "Part of why we took you in, Alex, is because of your... past struggles. We knew that we had a healthy, relatively calm environment that you could heal and grow in. When we got the call, it was an immediate yes. But, then things started spiraling downhill for Gilbert's friend, and..." another pause, "We didn't know if it would too much for you. I see now that it is and I'm sorry."

     Alexander had a strange feeling, one he hadn't felt in a long time. Not since Mama- he shook the thought from his head, turning it into a shaking of 'no' to Martha, "Don't apologize." He said, surprising himself a little with how firm his voice was, "You're good people. Good people do the right thing, even when it's hard. I.. I don't want John to suffer because I don't wanna see it. That wouldn't be fair. If you did that to me, God knows where I would be. You shouldn't be sorry, I should be thanking you. I don't do that enough. Thank you."

     Martha's eyes glazed a little, and she smiled wide, "I'm glad to hear that, and you don't need to thank me for treating you like a human being."

     Alex huffed a laugh, "I guess it's just been a while."

     "Tell me," Martha uttered, "How did... seeing that make you feel?"

     Alex gulped. Knew he should tell the truth. The whole truth. "Um, at first with all the noise, before I came downstairs, I was... scared. I didn't know what happened. I thought, you or Mr.Wa- George had... hurt... someone." Martha's face softened a little, "B-But then I came out to the foyer, and I saw... I saw him. And I felt awful. Like I should have done something. But I was so... scared. I ran. But I felt... everything I knew he was feeling."

     "Which was..." Martha prompted.

     "Fear, anger, resentment, humiliation... loneliness, uh.. bitter, guilty, like you can't trust anyone." Alex spat out, rapid fire, each of the feelings making themselves known as he said them, almost as if he was speaking them into existence. "I just... I don't want anyone else to suffer."

     Martha closed her eyes, "Alex... I'm so sorry. You should never have had to go through-"

     "Don't apologize for that. That's not your fault." He affirmed, "There's nothing you could have done."

     Martha nodded, "well thank you for talking to me. I'm glad you finally opened up. You've barely talked to George or I since you got here," she said with a smile, "Gilbert's been keeping you busy."

     Alex chuckled, "Something like that. Is he okay? Laf- er Gilbert? I don't ever know how to refer to him with you guys."

     "Anything is fine, honestly. He has so many names. But, yeah, he'll be okay. He just... is very empathetic. Almost destructively so. Takes everyone else's feelings as his own and... internalizes it." She muttered, shaking her head, "But he'll be okay. We have chats, like you and I just did. He likes talking, as I'm sure you've noticed."

     Alex grinned, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, "And John?"

     Martha sighed, letting out a low whistle, "That's... definitely a harder question to answer. This was one of the worse... states he's come here in. Not the worst but, it's up there. Poor kid. He's patched up, I made sure of that. It's mostly his mind that needs healing... He just needs someone who understands him. John and Gilbert have been friends since Gil came to live with us, but he and John are practically polar opposites. There's not a whole lot of common ground personality-wise. But I think he'll be alright. He's been through some tough stuff, he's fragile, but firm."

     "Laf used that word to describe him, too. 'Fragile'. Why is that?" Alex asked, now really curious, "Because when I talked to him, he had this... very tough exterior."

     Martha smiled sadly, exhaling through her nose, "That's because he's scared of you. He doesn't know who you are, what you're capable of. It's... instinct. He's been let down so many times."

     Alex knew that feeling, "I get that. I think I understand. But he's patched up, not going to the hospital or anything?"

     Martha shook her head, "I don't think so. Nothing broken, he said he didn't hit his head, so, that's the best we can do. We promised not to call anyone unless he initiated it. And we've held ourselves to that."

     "So his dad...?" Alex said carefully.

     Martha nodded slowly, "And stepmom. Both of them. But mostly his father. John's mom passed away a little over two years ago of breast cancer, and Henry started... self medicating when he couldn't handle the grief," she shook her head solemnly, "Eleanor left five children behind. Five. And John is the only one Henry... ragdolls like this. Maybe it's because he's the oldest... but I've never understood. He's just a kid."

     Alex blinked slowly, "Maybe I-I'll try talking to him."

     "You don't have to, if it makes you uncomfortable."

     "This stuff makes everyone uncomfortable." Alex retorted, looking her in the eyes, "But I'll talk to Laf first."

     Martha nodded, standing up, "Good plan. Take your time, love, don't overwhelm yourself."

     And with that, she left, closing the door the same way Alex had earlier, turning the handle, so it didn't click.

     It took about half an hour for Alex to convince himself to leave his room, marching across the hall to Laf's room and knocking on the door, "Laf?"

    Footsteps. Flicking of a lightswitch. Had he been sitting in the dark? There's no way he was asleep. The door creaked open, showing a bleary-eyed, nearly unrecognizable Lafayette. Damn... "Do you need something?"

     Alex gulped, "No, b-but I figured you did."

     Laf shrugged, "I'm fine."

     "Clearly," Alex said, maybe a little too sarcastically, "Sorry."

     Laf smiled a little, "No, no, I suppose I did need a bit of a reality check, come in."

     Alex dragged his feet, sitting down on the soft blue rug in Laf's room, "So, how is he?"

     Laf groaned, maybe a touch dramatically, "He won't tell me what I already know!! I-I know someone is hurting him, I know he needs hel but he just shuts me down. He shuts everyone down! Like he doesn't want help! Who would want to remain in that kind of situation?!" he growled exasperatedly.

     Alex swallowed, making sure to keep his tone soft, "Maybe... it's more complicated than that."

     Lafayette looked puzzled, "More complicated than 'leave and don't get hit'?"

     Alex sighed, "Yeah, probably. Like... I know the foster system, and if you told the authorities, they would have to take John and all his siblings out of the home. Maybe they would have a family member willing to take them in, and Martha said he had four siblings, and he was the only one who got hit. That's a lot of kids all at once. And all of them would have lots of... trauma. Most likely case would be all of them are put in the foster system, split up and put in different homes. Maybe John doesn't want to tear his family apart, or... or hurt his siblings any more than they already are. The foster system is shitty. I wouldn't wish that on anyone. Maybe John is trying to save his family that struggle."

     Lafayette's face changed, flipped through expression, "I... I did not think of that."

     "I didn't expect you to. You wouldn't have that context."

     Laf sighed, flopping on his bed, "It's not fair. He shouldn't have to hurt like this."

     "You're right. No one should. He doesn't deserve it, but he doesn't want the kind of help you're trying to provide." Alex said softly.

     "Can I be alone, once more, please..." Laf whispered.

     Alex nodded, getting up and closing the door, going down the hall to what he was pretty sure was John's room. His suspicions were confirmed, when he heard moving, and quiet grunts of pain. He knocked.

     "Come in," a strained voice gurgled.

     Alex peeped his head in, "You doin' okay?"

     John sighed, "Oh. You. Hi. Um, yeah I'm good."

     Alex nodded, "Can I come in."

     "I guess."

     "What happened." It was a statement, not a question.

     John gave him a look, "None of your business."

     Alex shrugged, "That's true, but I would understand more than you think."

     John scoffed, his ears burning red, "Gonna give me a lecture on perspective?"

     Alex rolled his eyes, "Would you quit that, already?!" John jumped, shrinking into himself, "Stop with the snide remarks and tough guy attitude. I get it, when people are after you that's how you have to act, but no one is after you here, and it's just hurting the people who are trying to help you. Quit being selfish."

     John gulped, his tone changing to something softer, sweeter. Pretty. "I'm sorry."

     Alex shook his head, "I shouldn't have snapped, you've had a rough day. Um... I wanted to check on you. I wasn't there when you got here, and I was worried."

     John nodded, "Thanks, um... I'll be fine."

    "Laf's real torn up."

     "Only cuz I won't tell him the truth. He already knows it, anyway."

     "Then why lie?"

     John shrugged, "Because maybe the lies sting less?"

    "But they don't," Alex whispered, "Lies only make it worse."

     "How would you know?"

      Alex sighed, hesitating. He rolled up his sleeves, revealed arms covered with cigarette burns and scars, lifted his shirt up his side, showing some fading bruises.

     John looked stunned, "I didn't realize..."

     Alex shruged, "Let's... keep this between you and me, yeah?"

     "But didn't you tell me not to lie?"

     "This isn't lying. This is... private. I don't like people seeing them."

     John nodded. "I'm sorry."

     "Me too." Alex whispered.

     John looked uneasy, "I um... I don't want to be alone. Could you.. stay?"

     Alex smiled and nodded, fixing his shirt, "Yeah, sure. What do you wanna do?"

     "I dunno, sit, talk, listen to music, I don't care."

So they did.

Chapter Text

     The sun had started to set, and there were some heavenly smells coming from the kitchen. John had dosed off a little less than an hour ago, and Alexander thought it was best to let him be. He needed some time alone anyway. 

     As he reentered his bedroom, he felt... different. Lighter. He had the strangest feeling in his stomach watching John breathe softly as he napped. He felt like a creep, but also found he could live with that. 

     He made his way to his desk, started scrawling as quickly as he could. Update: John's not a complete dickwad, just got some serious daddy issues. Came over bloody and beaten, and he looked almost ill. Went and talked to him earlier, and he's actually kind of a nice guy. Sensitive. Sweet. Adorab Easy to talk to. I couldn't stop talking to him. He's got this Alex paused, chewed on his eraser until he found the word, orphic face. Every time he says something in that voice. He underlines 'voice' once. Twice... Three times. He sighs, and lays his head on the desk, the cool wood startling against his now burning face. He chuckles to himself. Wow, he thinks, you've got a crush on him. Nice. Fucking. Job.

     Alex clenches his eyes shut, and takes a slow deep breath. Then another. And another. And another...

     "DINNER!" Laf busts in and shouts, and closes the door again. Alex startles, giving a justifiable scream of terror. What had he yelled? Doesn't matter. Yeah, it does, what'd he need? He's going to break you. No, he's not like them. They'll all hurt you. NO. They. Won't. You can't be sure of that. I guess not. So why are you hiding in plain sight. RUN. 

But he couldn't.

No matter how hard he tried.

Frozen.

Ice. 

Coldcoldcold

but the tears were hot.

Burned like fire.

Everything felt cramped, tight.

His body tensed, his pan snapped in his hand.

Was he still holding that?

He couldn't get away, he couldn't 

RUN

He sobbed outward,

someone

anyone

please

Heaving.

He was heaving, he realized.

Someone must have heard him

Because the door was open now

Couldn't hear their voice

Couldn't see

Hand on his shoulder

down his back

rubbing his back

All he knew 

was that someone

was touching him

All he knew 

was that he didn't

want them to 

So he found his control

and threw himself out of the chair

onto the floor

like

a

child.

But he was a child

he was

alone

scared

hurt

blood? Where was the blood from?

his hand hurt.

Then suddenly

"ALEXANDER!!"

     Alex's eyes snapped open, seeing Mr. Washington's face. He looked ANGRY  petrified. Alex tried to breathe, found he couldn't.

     "Hey, hey, sorry I shouted, but you wouldn't respond. Look at me," Mr. Washington said, his voice was steady, firm and gentle. Grounding. "You had a panic attack. Your pen broke in your hand, the plastic cut your hand. When I touched your shoulder to try to get your attention, you threw yourself on the floor, so I won't touch you unless you give me the okay," His voice was s l o w. But that was good, Alex guessed, because he was barely grasping anything Mr. Washington was saying, "Now I want you to take some deep breaths with me okay?"

     Alex nodded. He knew this ritual. When the court ordered him a therapist after one of his previous placements he'd had to do this many times.

     "I want you to breathe in while I count, once I get to five, I want you to exhale, okay? In for five, out for five. One... two..."

     It didn't take long to get Alexander to a relatively calm state. He allowed Mr. Washington George to give him a tight hug. The pressure felt nice. He was let know he was welcome downstairs to eat if felt up to it. Martha tended to Alex's hand with a grimace she tried to hide, "Awfully strong," she said, "To be able to break such a sturdy pen in one hand." Bandages, Tylenol. Sleep. Woke up in the middle of the night with a plate of some kind of rice dish on the desk, long gone cold. Alex picked at it a little. Tried to write, but his hand hurt too much.

     Everything felt like it was floating. Foggy. Like he wasn't completely there. Decided a walk might help, was stopped by John's gentle smile. Pity. But still...

     "Hey... It's late, what are you doing up?" He said from the living room couch.

     "Could say the same to you." Alex said with no bite. 

     John laughed a little, "Couldn't sleep. George told us what happened. Laf wanted to apologize, but he figured it was still a little... tender?"

     Alex smiled at the sentiment. "Tell him thanks for me. I needed the space. Look, I'm gonna go for a walk, if you wanna come?"

     John looked as if he were thinking it over, "Um, yeah, if it's a short one. I'm pretty sore, but I need to get out of the house."

     Alex nodded, had John leave a note on the kitchen counter in case anyone found them missing.

 For a while, neither one of them talked. John broke the silence, "How's your hand?" he said, glancing at the bandages.

     Alex was hesitant to answer. It hurt like hell, or at least it should. He couldn't really feel it still, "Um, been better."

     John nodded. Alex looked at him, "But, let's not worry about me. You're in pretty rough shape."

    "You get used to it." John said, his tone ice cold. 

     "No you don't. You expect it but it never stops hurting."

     John sighed, giving Alex a sharp look. If looks could kill... "Look, I get that you're like... trying to help me or... whatever cuz you've been in my position, but I really don't appreciate you telling me what I feel. Thanks."

    Alex gulped, nodding, "Sorry, I just want to-"

    "Help! I know, everyone wants to help!"  He laughed, strangely, because he wan't smiling, "Maybe I don't want help!"

    "Why not. I got help. Look at me? I'm safe.. for now."

     John softens a little, going slack where he was once tense, "The Washington Family... is my family. Excluding my brothers and sisters, they're all I've got. They've been good to me. They'll be good to you, too. I just hate putting them through this. They shouldn't have to deal with this."

     Alex just nods, so John continues. "They've got Laf, who's got problems of his own, and now they have you, and they're stretched thin. I mean they're only human, right? They're not responsible for me. It's not- I'm not-" Alex grabs Johns hand, mostly to get his attention.

    "Hey, don't think like that. It's destructive. You're not worthless to them. They obviously care about you. Let them do that." John freezes, looks at Alex's hand in his, and his ears go red again as he pulls it back away and stuffs it in his pocket.

     "Thanks. Needed to hear that." 

     Alex smiles, "Happy to help. I've never been on this side of things, it's surreal to say the least."

     John hums, looking up at the sky. The stars. Alex saw them too, no wait, that's John's face shit don't be a creep.

     "What do I do now?" John asks, his voice barely a whisper. He doesn't look away from the moon.

     "I... don't know. But I don't want to see you get hurt again."

     John winced, "I dunno about that, Alex. I'm not in control of-"

     "I know. I just wish.. I wish you didn't have to suffer. You're a nice guy."

     John raises his eyebrows, "I haven't been particularly nice to you. I've been meaning to apologize for that, I'm sorry."

     Alex waves a hand, "You felt threatened. I get it. I guess right now you spend as much time with us as possible, keep yourself away from the problem. Maybe have Laf, or Martha or George or I go with you when you do go home."

     John nodded. "Sounds good."

     "Or stay."

     "What?"

     "Stay with me- er, us, I guess."

     John gave him a funny look. Somewhere between judgmental, suggestive, and hopeful, "Um... maybe."

     Alex shrugged, "It would be nice. I like talking to you. You make it incredibly easy to let the most absurd things tumble from my mouth without a filter. And I would know about having no filter. Half the reason I got into so much shit before is because I just can't keep my mouth shut. And I've been doing a pretty good job in this home, but I absolutely can not stay silent much longer. I guess it might just be subconscious? Every time I got out of line before, I would get torn into, but here it's like they want my opinion. They want me to say when I don't like something. Maybe I'm afraid of being impolite. They're such nice people. I don't wanna hurt their feelings. You ever get that way? Maybe it's just a me thing. Shutting down every part of my brain except what's most necessary. Am I... Oh no... you got me started."

     Alex looked up toward John, expecting him to look annoyed, or maybe to have walked ahead of him in an angry stupor but... he was just staring, with gentle eyes. His face was.. soft. "Uh, no. I mean you were rambling, but I didn't mind. It means you have a lot of thoughts. That's a good thing, at least when it's constructive, that is. You can build an empire with with bricks and mortar and boundary lines, but if you want the people to follow you you have to use words, not force. You could build an empire with your intelligence, Alexander. I wish I were like you." 

     Silence.

     John broke eye contact, "I-I said too much, I'm sorry."

     Alex just shook his head slowly. "No... you didn't. That was... really poetic."

     John chuckled, kicking a rock on the sidewalk, "Yeah. That used to be my 'thing'." he said, curling his fingers in air quotes, "Laf liked it, when I would say poetic things."

     "Used to be? Liked? Why the past tense?"

     "Men don't like poetry and music. Men like sports and women."

     Alex slowed his pace, realization hitting him and practically knocking the wind out of him. 

     "Are you...?"

     John looked at him quizzically, "Am I what?"

     "Nevermind."

     Alex already knew. He knew that John was brilliant. Shone like the sun. But his father eclipsed him. Darkened his light, stole his life blood, his passion, his love away from him. But eclipses are temporary. The sun would always be around.

Chapter Text

      John stayed for that weekend, going to school with Laf on Monday even though he looked like death warmed over.

     Alex was registered that same morning, to start the next day. Went with Martha to get his uniform: A white button down, or polo with the school crest, navy dress slacks and matching blazer, in trifold, as well as some school t-shirts and nice jeans for casual/spirit days, fancy dress socks, a handful of ties, the shiniest shoes Alex had ever seen, and an offer for a haircut, which he politely refused. No way.

     Tuesday morning approached quicker than Alex would have liked. Private school was so foreign to him. He knew he'd stick out like a sore thumb among rich kids and trust fund babies. Alex pulled the stiff uniform onto himself, realizing he didn't know how to actually wear half of it. He would've called Laf up to help him, but he was outside with Hercules and John, or so he thought. 

     Alex caught John wandering down the hallway out of his cracked door, "Uhm.. John? John! A little help?"

     John paused and turned around, quirking his eyebrow. John cleaned up nice. Alex was surprised he hadn't noticed how hot John looked all spiffy for school, ew no don't think like that. But that shirt is crisp though...

     "Yeah? Oh, wow," he chuckled, "You're a mess!"

     Alex flopped his arms, "I just... I don't... ugh..."

     John smiled and entered the room fully, taking in Alex attempt at getting dressed, "Have you never worn a button down before?"

     "Not in a long time."

     John just shook his head, "All your buttons are off by one, c'mere."

     Alex stepped closer at John's nimble fingers unbuttoned his shirt. Under different circumstances- NO.

     "I find it easier to do it from the bottom," John said quietly, "So you can match up the last button with the last slot and work your way up."

     So he worked his way from the bottom up, skin brushing occasionally, "Where's your tie?"

     Alex snatched it off his desk, still wrapped in plastic, "Right here. I'm gonna need help with that too."

     John looked toward the door, as if he were worried about being caught... helping? "Uh, okay, um, I can only do it the way I, like... do it on myself, so I might need to stand behind you."

     Alex nodded, turning around. John's arms were around him, tying the necktie with such graceful ease Alex felt sure he could do it himself next time.

     The two stared at each other in the mirror for a moment there, until John tried to shake the intimacy of it off his fingers, "There ya go, anything else?"

     Alex thought a moment, "Umm... I mean my hair's a disaster, but I don't think you can do anything about that."

     John cocked his head to the side, "Actually, follow me."

     John and Alex made their way downstairs giggling over everything and nothing, getting very meaningful looks from Hercules and Laf that Alex didn't quite know the meaning of yet. "Alex I don't think I've ever seen your hair slicked back like that. Looks good!" George said from the breakfast nook, "Everyone ready to go? Alex, you have your bag?"

     "Oh, I left it upstairs!"

     "No you didn't," John mumbled, holding the grey backpack in his hand shyly.

     "Oh! Thanks!" Alex beamed and John reddened, earning a shove from Hercules.

     "Stop it." John hissed.

     The school was massive. It looked like a college campus. The boys clamored out of the car, Hercules bickering with Laf about something or other, John trying to keep the peace. Alex felt impossibly tiny, his fingers tingled familiarly. John seemed to notice his change in demeanor, "Hey, don't be nervous. It looks really big, but you'll probably be confined to about one hallway. They try to keep all the grades in their own building, and each career path in its own few hallways."

      "Career path?!"

     John bit his lip, "Um, it's really just the set of classes you take. It's supposed to help for college or whatever, it's really not a huge deal. I promise. I'll walk with you, we all will."

      So they did. Alex received his schedule: Homeroom with all three of them, Analytic Geometry with Hercules, British Literature/English II with Laf and John, Creative Writing with John, surprisingly, Economics by himself, Federal Government by himself, Biology with Hercules and Laf, Study Skills and College Navigation with Laf, and a free period.

     Overwhelming to the average mind, but Alex was no average mind. The classes were easy enough, even when adding the fact that he'd entered halfway through the semester. His teachers were pleasant for the most part, but he took a liking to the Bio Teacher, Dr. Radcliffe. Creative writing was interesting, to say the least. He sat catty-cornered to John, who didn't say a word. As a matter of fact, Alex was fairly sure John hadn't spoken since school started. Lunch was unremarkable. He was introduced to a handful of people who's names he didn't remember.

     Alex spent his free period in the library, where he found John in the biography section, holding an Elton John biography, "You okay? You've been awful quiet today."

     John jumped, not realizing he was in the presence of company, and shoved the book back on the shelf, "Oh! U-Uh, yeah no, I'm good."

     Alex narrowed his eyes, "Are you trying to hide that you love to read or are you trying to hide what you're reading?"

     "Neither, just figured it was rude to talk and read." 

     Alex looked at the book John had shoved back (upside down, he might add, like an animal), "Elton John, huh?"

     John shrugged, "Cover was eye catching."

     "It's colorful because he's a flaming homosexual."

     John's face burned, "Yeah, well thanks, for that, and for the conversation, but I have to go."

     Alex caught the strap of John's messenger bag, "Wait, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

     "Well, you did. Let me go."

     Alex didn't, "What'd I say?"

     John huffed, "Nothing. You... you didn't say anything."

     "Was it the gay comment?"

     "Keep your voice down!"

     "Answer me!" Alex huffed quietly.

     "Fine, yes. It was the gay comment."

     "I didn't mean anything by it."

     "I know!" John whisper-shouted, "You just can't say stuff like that, okay?"

     "Like what ?!" 

     "Nevermind."

     "Are you gay? Is that the problem?"

     John's face said it all, though his answer was contrary, "What? What are you even talking about."

     "Are you gay? Is that why my comment upset you?"

     "What does it matter??"

     "I'm just asking."

     John is seething now, jaw shaking with frustration, fear, and something else. Something that made his stomach churn in a way that he'd never felt before.

     "Yes."

     "Okay, then I'm sorry I offended you."

     "I'm going now." He huffed, snatching his bag away from Alexander, and storming off. The Library felt still, suddenly. As if John had taken whatever life was inside the library with him when he left. It felt empty, despite the dozens of students studying and reading in the huge area.

     Alex felt awful. He'd forced John to out himself. Why couldn't he have just shut up? 

     He didn't see John again until Martha picked them up, and he had to sit between him and Hercules. Even Martha had caught on to the eerie, suspicious air between them, "Everything alright back there, John? Alex?"

     "Peachy," John spat, but not angrily. He spoke as if he was forcing himself. 

     "Yeah, everything's good." Alex mumbled, taking a book out of his backpack - A historical fiction about Leonardo da Vinci. - and read it the whole way home.

     Except he didn't.

     He kept looking over at John, who kept looking at Alex with vaguely teary eyes. It crushed Alex's heart. He mouthed 'I'm sorry' several times, but was barely acknowledged.

     When the got home, John threw his backpack on the floor and stormed upstairs.

     Hercules frowned, grabbing a moon pie out of the pantry for a snack, "What the hell is that all about?"

     Laf shrugged and pointed his gaze at Alex who turned red and shrunk into himself.

     Laf groaned, "I thought you two were getting along?!"

     Alex gulped, "I- uh... we were!"

     "Were?!"

     "We got into an argument in the library and-"

     Laf sighed, "How do you get into an argument in the library?"

     "He was reading a book, and I made an offhanded comment and he got his feathers all ruffled."

     "John is not one to be dramatic. Tell me the whole story."

     Alex poured himself a glass of juice, slamming the cup on the table, "I can't do that."

     "Why not?"

     "Because I just can't."

     "Why. Not?" Laf pressed. 

     "It's just not my place."

     "Bull."

     "I'm serious!" Alex shouted, drawing George into the room.

     "What's going on?" He boomed, causing Alex to shrink.

     "N-Nothing sir."

     George turned to Laf, who gladly filled him in, "Alexander upset John, and he won't tell me what happened."

     "What happens between Alex and John is none of your concern, Gilbert."

     "Usually that would be the case but-"

     George cut him off, "Stay out of it."

     Alex waited until George left to scurry up to his room. He took out his books, intending to start on homework. First pulled out his library books, The da Vinci book he'd been kinda reading, Much Ado About Nothing  for Brit Lit, The History of Human Anatomy, something he picked up out of curiosity, and the Elton John biography. He'd grabbed it after John left, hoping it could be a peace offering.

     He made good work of writing his apology instead of his personal essay for English. 

To my dearest, John,

I cannot begin to say how undeniably sorry I am for how I acted. 

There is no excuse.

I shouldn't have squeezed that information out of you. It was unfair, unfriendly, and unbecoming.

I hope you will accept my sincerest apologies, because I have nothing to say for myself.

I grabbed this for you after you left, wanting to try to make it right. 

If there's anything I can do. Anything at all.

Let me know.

I'm your guy.

Best wishes and deepest Apologies,

A. Ham

     Alex steadied himself, slid the note into the front cover, sticking out just enough to make its presence known.

     He walked slowly, praying the book was slim enough to fit under the door so he wouldn't have to face him directly.

     The book barely fit, but it fit nonetheless. He saw John's socked feet walk toward the door, so he made a run for it.

     Hours passed, Hercules went home, Laf shot merciless glares at Alexander, so he hid in his room. 

     A knock.

     " 'S open!"

     John opened the door slowly, catching Alex by surprise, "Hey! Did you..."

     John nodded, "Yeah I read it. Thanks. Um, can I come in?"

     Alex nodded, perhaps a touch too enthused.

     "Look, I know you didn't mean any harm." John said, sitting on a beanbag, "I just... no one knows. I don't want them to, so hearing someone else say it out loud was... weird. And I took my feelings out on you. I'm sorry."

     Alex sighed, "The blame is shared. It wasn't fair for me to say that. To be so insensitive. I shouldn't have asked you that. If you'd wanted to tell me you would have."

     John smiled, "I guess I'm kinda glad I did. I mean, it's not that I don't think I could tell Laf or Herc... It's just... They already treat me so different. I don't want anything to change."

     "I promise, Nothing has changed about what I think about you."

     "Thanks Alex."

Chapter Text

     Some Days Later

     Alex just couldn't sleep. His mind wouldn't shut off. He couldn't quiet his thoughts. So he went exploring. Despite having lived in the Washington home for a little over a month now, he hadn't really seen the whole house. 

     He was surprised when he heard piano music coming from the basement. And singing too? Who was playing music at this hour?

     He pushed to door open, seeing John playing the keys and... singing. Alex didn't know shit about music, but he knew that this was something special. He could feel it. It was so intimate and private. Something about this felt wrong, as if Alexander weren't meant to see it. John's voice cradled each note, held it tightly, comforted it.

     " 'Cause we're collecting evidence... of one remarkable storm. How wild it was to find it, finally feel the climate, instead of only staying dry and warm."

     Alex knew he should leave. He wan't meant to see this. This was invading privacy, a breech of trust, and yet, he couldn't look away. 

     "Rain on us, Saint Honesty! Salvation is coming in the morning, but now what we need.."

     A pause hung high in the air, and then, "Is a little rain on our face from you sweet, Saint Honesty.

    "Oh we won't let go. 

We'll be soaked to the bone,

Baptized in truth

we will reap what we sow.

Build our own higher ground.

When the rain's comin' down.

This is worth it to me,

Saint Honesty.

Rain!

Salvation is coming in the morning

Wait patiently, aiming straight for it

But now what we need

Is a little rain

on our face

from you,

sweet Saint Honesty"

     He played an ending melody, and without looking in Alex's direction or even opening his eyes, muttered, "Hey 'Lex. You found me." His voice impossibly calm.

     John opened his eyes now, that tender smile playing at his soft features. Alex was at a loss for words, stammering, "Th-That was.. I've never seen... wow."

     John gulped, rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks turning red, "Oh, um... yeah. Thanks."

     "Did you write that?"

     John didn't need to answer. And he didn't. "Um, I... I'm sorry. Did I wake you? I didn't mean to cause any disturbance."

     Alex shook his head, "No, I couldn't sleep, I was just wandering around. Mind if I...?" He motioned to the finished basement from where he stood on the stairwell.

     "Yeah, I don't care, you live here." John mumbled, shutting the fallboard of the piano gently.

     "That was beautiful."

     "Thanks, I needed to get it out of my system. It's been a while since I've... played. Or written."

     Alex looked puzzled, wanting to know more, but knowing better than to press.

     John rolled his eyes, "What ever you want to ask, just ask it."

     Alex perked up a little, "Why'd you stop? What you just did was like... magical, or something. I can't even comprehend... what that was."

     John sighed, "It's more complicated than I think you're grasping. I don't have a piano at my house. My had threw away the shitty keyboard I had, so I can only play George's Mom's old grand when I can get a moment of privacy. But even then, Laf doesn't know I play it. I mean I used to play tons when we were younger, tried to teach him, but he wasn't really receptive. It's kind of a huge secret, so please don't tell him. He won't let me hear the end of it, and I can't handle that right now. What's with you and discovering all my secrets?"

     Alex smiled, feeling his face heat up, "Maybe I read your mind." 

     John shoved him playfully, "I think you do. That's the only  logical explanation"

     "Will you show me?"

     "Hm?"

     Alex fidgeted, "Will you show me how to do that? Or a fraction, maybe, of that spell you just cast with your fingers?"

     John laughed, lifting the fallboard up again, "Are you asking me for piano lessons, tiny?"

     "First of all, you're shorter than me, which, by the way, is a feat in and of itself, and secondly, yes. I am. Please and thank you."

     John laughed again. Alex never wanted to hear any other sound ever again, "Alright, Alright. We'll start right now?" He pressed a key. "This is middle C. It's kind of the center of every piano lesson or piano piece, really."

     Alex nodded, "Okay..."

     "The musical alphabet goes only up to 'G' until it starts again, 'A-B-C-D-E-F-G-A-B-C-D-E-F-G' does that make sense?" he played the notes as he said them. 

     "More or less."

     "Ok so, if this is middle C, the next white key up would be...?"

     Alex wrinkled is nose, "D?"

     John smiled, "Right, and the one just before it, white?" He pressed it, "This one."

     Alex spoke slowly, drawing the letter out, "B."

     "Yeah! So if we start at Middle C, and work our way up," again, he did as he said, hands gliding across one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight  keys, " to the next 'C', We get a C Major scale."

     "So the pattern just repeats itself?"

     John nodded, "Yup. And this C," he pressed down on the middle C, Alex registered, "and this C" He pressed the one he'd finished his scale with, "Are the same note. More or less." He played them at the same time.

     Alex nodded, sort of grasping it.

     John sighed, "You look confused. Sorry, I'm not the greatest teacher."

     Alex shook his head, scooching John over so he could sit on the piano bench as well, "No, no I think I've got it. This is C. Alphabet repeats, so if I go up... what was it, eight keys? C-D-E-F-G-A-B-C... Then, that's that scale-whatever-thing, and this note and this note are the same, kinda but one is higher."

     John looked at him with this wistful face that made Alex shrink, "Wow, you... really understood all of that?"

     He shrugged, "Yeah. It's easy to understand when you're explaining it."

     John smiled, continuing, "So with those eight notes you learned you can play... oh... here," he played a very stripped down Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star, "You try."

     Alex grinned, trying again with this confidence boost, but fell apart three notes in, "Well... that was terrible."

     John giggled, "Here, put your hand on my hands, like this..." He gently guided Alex's hands over his own, explain how you only used each finger a certain way, which Alex argued was asinine.

     By the time the sun rose, Alex was playing some really easy Beatles music, with a little help along the way of course. John yawned.

     "Sorry I kept you up." 

     John waved a hand at him, "No worries, It's... Sunday morning now, right?"

     Alex nodded, "Yeah."

     "I'm going to go back upstairs so we don't get in trouble for staying up all night."

     Alex bit his lip, "Wait, one more thing before you go?"

     John whipped around, looking at Alex with those doe eyes, "Yeah?"

     "Thank you. That was really awesome."

     "Thanks!"

     "I wasn't finished,"

     "Oh?"

     Alex sighed, "I think you should come out to Laf. It might... ease his mind some. He's pretty pissed at me, and I didn't tell him what happened, because, you know, it wasn't my place, but I think it would do you both some good."

     John's expression was unreadable. It was that face he made before. The one where he hid any feeling from anyone. At least visibly. His voice, though, not quite as easy, "Um, yeah okay... I'll think about it." He whispered.

     "Okay. Now go get some sleep."

     John nodded, closing his music binder and trotting up the stairs.

Chapter Text

     The Washingtons (plus Alexander, plus John) formed a new normal; added another chair to the dinner table, woke everyone up together, took John to his house to pick up anything he needed and say hello to his siblings on Sundays, with the accompaniment of George.

     John and Alexander had gotten very, very, close. Honestly, Laf felt a bit left out. The hours Laf and Alex would spend talking about nothing and everything had been narrowed down to small talk maybe once a week. And, Alex and John would disappear into the basement for hours at a time nearly everyday. Laf was sick of it. He hated that he felt this way. He didn't want to be jealous, but Alex had just gotten here, and was closer with John than even Laf,  his best friend.

    He tried his best to keep this feeling to himself, knowing the John would hate himself for leaving Lafayette out, even if it was unintentional, and that Alex would then abandon John for Lafayette, which wouldn't work either. 

    Despite how he tried to keep fate at bay, his feelings revealed themselves one  night.

     John and Alex were in the basement, as was normal for late nights. Laf had busted in there. He hadn't known what they'd been doing in there every night, but seeing them like that, so close, so... intimately together, filled his entire body with rage. He snarled when He saw them and stormed off, slamming the door. Bad decision.

     Alex flinched visibly, his whole body cringing at the sound. At Laf's anger. John had winced as well, but when he turned to Alex, he was just... staring off. "Alex?"

     No response.

     "Alex!!"

     Nothing.

     John gently took Alex's hand, a risky move, and ran his thumb over each knuckle, between them, in a pattern, talked him down gently, wiped tears. It was a while before Alex really fully came back. So they sat there on the bench, Alex in John's arms, head in John's chest, fingers in Alex's hair, chin on the top of Alex's head as he cried. John lived the memory with him, until it was over.

     Alex requested John walk him up to his bedroom, he needed sleep. John knew he wouldn't, but laying down was better than staying up all night working on homework.  

     Once Alex and John exchanged good-nights, John knocked on Laf's door. "Go away!"

     John rolled his eyes and opened the door, and stood before a seething Lafayette. But John was angry, too. "What the hell was that, Laf?!" John didn't quite shout, but he did say it with substantial bite.

     Laf glared right back, "It was a reminder. You know. That I exist."

     John's heart dropped, but he stood stoic, "You scared the living hell out of Alex. He had an anxiety attack, he cried for over an hour. You can't just ignore other people's feelings because you're upset."

     Laf's face screamed and pulsated anger, "What about every day you came here with bruises? What about every day you were stumbling around our lawn in the middle of the night? What about My Parents' feelings? What about mine?!"

     "The fact that I'm not taking my own advice does not negate the fact that you hurt Alex."

     "Ah, yes, your new  best friend." 

     John looked hurt, "Wh... what?"

     Laf rolled his eyes, "Don't play coy..."

     "No, I'm genuinely confused, what the hell are you talking about? Alex and I found some common ground and have some shared trauma, and you think I'm abandoning you because I'm friends with your brother? The person that's literally across the hall from you? Do you hear how absurd that sounds!?"

     Laf sighed, "I just... why are you leaving me out?"

     John shrugged, "We're not meaning to, but sometimes Alex and I talk about some really... heavy stuff. And it's not conversations you would relate to... We don't mean to hurt your feelings. And then a few weeks ago in the library..." He caught himself and trailed off.

     "Ah yes, the library incident that you never  shared. Please, do tell!"

     John felt sick. No, he can't know. Not yet.

     "I-I can't."

     "Why? Is it just something else that I 'won't understand'?"

     John pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, forcing tears away. Not now. 

     "No..."

     "Then tell me."

     John was clearly shaking now, and Lafayette sighed, "Here, sit down." 

     He guided John to his desk chair.

     "Now, what. happened."

     John shrugged, gestured wildly and flopped his arms down. "A-A lot of things!"

     "Such as?!"

     John felt panicky himself now, but pulled it together as best he could.

     "I don't want to say."

     "Why?"

    "Because you already treat me with kid gloves! This is the first real conversation we've had in over a year! Maybe I just don't feel comfortable spilling my secrets to someone who treats me like a... little kid! You treat me like a scared child, and I'm not a child."

     Laf looked surprised, didn't say anything, so John continued, "I want to tell my best friend how I feel, not some stranger who thinks he is. You don't talk to me anymore. So why would I feel comfortable sharing big things with you?"

     "I  don't talk to you  anymore?! The gall you have! You have shut everyone else out since your mother died!" John choked, not expecting that, "So don't start that with me!"

     John shook, "You don't understand..."

     "What? What don't I understand? You think I don't understand what it's like to lose a parent? Did you forget I lost both of mine?"

     "Not that."

     "Then. WHAT?!"

     "I'm gay!!! Okay?! That's it. There. It's out in the open! You happy?!" John screamed, openly crying now.

     Laf looked stunned a moment. "Oh, John..."

     John didn't speak. Didn't move. Barely breathed.

     Hand on his shoulder, "John, I'm sorry. I didn't know."

     "That was kind of on purpose." He whispered, stark contrast to his screaming fit only a moment ago.

     "I didn't realize you were so ashamed. You don't have to be."

     John didn't answer.

     "John, please say something. I want to help."

     "Unless you can fix it, there's nothing you can do."

     Laf sighed, "Why did you feel like you couldn't tell me."

     A tear, fat and heavy, rolled off of John's face, "I didn't want you to hate me."

     Laf gave him the strangest look, "I'm literally the vice president of the GSA."

     John shrugged, "You can't ever predict how people react to big changes..." he said, wringing his hands, "And I didn't want to screw anything up."

     Laf shook his head, "I would never react negatively to something you can't control. That's not fair."

     "Alex knows." John said, though he wasn't sure why, "That's what happened that day in the library and that's why he wouldn't tell you. We got into an argument and I told him so that he would leave me alone," catching anger in Laf's eyes, John quickly added, "B-But it's okay, he apologized... profusely... and we talked it over. It's all good."

     "Next time something like this comes up, you tell me, do you understand?"

     John nodded, "Yeah."

     "And... It's okay, that you and Alex are talking about things. I'm glad you two can... help one another. I owe you both an apology."

     John nodded again, "Thanks. Um, I'm gonna, sit by myself a minute. If that's okay?"

     "Of course, you don't have to ask."

     The Next Morning the air was different, and Martha asked what all the ruckus was the night before.

     "Just... a lot of feelings. Things were said, apologies were made, friendships mended. Typical Thursday night." John had joked.

     Martha was surprised to hear John talk at full volume about something that must've been emotional for him. She took a mental note that some progress had been made.

     Alex poked at his eggs. Laf had apologized already, John had explained everything, but he still felt off. His insides felt like spoiled pudding. Just gross.

     "Can I um... stay home? Today? I'm not feeling well."

     Martha looked concerned, "I suppose. What's the matter?"

     "Stomach ache..."

     Martha hummed, taking him into the next room to check him out. Not feverish, but she let him stay home anyway.

     Funny how feelings can make you ill.

Chapter Text

     What had started out as an ill feeling in Alexander's gut, had since turned out to be some heavy anxiety. After a quality nap and some TV, he was right as rain... mostly. But he was better than before, which counted as a win in his book.

     John had come in his room to check on Alex once he'd returned from school. Alex noticed a smear of dried blood on his hand, but didn't say anything. Didn't seem like a big deal. 

     Lafayette had brought him a snack. They chattered a bit about this and that. Gave Alex any homework he'd missed. Apologized for his behavior, which Alex accepted. 

     Dinnertime came and went, and no one stopped by to let him know, of which he was thankful, but he was brought some teriyaki chicken by George. 

     At one point Alex had decided that he was long overdue for a shower, and barged into the bathroom with a towel in hand, not realizing John was already in there. Luckily (or unluckily, his brain supplied unhelpfully), he was fully clothed, and not on the toilet, but washing his hands. Still, Alex peeped out an "Whoop! Sorry!" before stepping back out and closing the door.

     He replayed the scene in his head. Walked in on John, saw him washing... wait was that blood? No, couldn't be. Had he gone back home without George? Had someone hurt him? Alex shook his head, as if clearing the thought from his head. Surely he was imagining things. The more the thought about it though, the more clearly he remembered it. Reddish water being washed down the drain. 

     No... Please no. He prayed silently to any higher power that no one had hurt him. As John exited the bathroom, Alex caught him by the bicep, making the other boy jump.

     "Sorry, I just, I thought... uh.." Alex cleared his throat, "Is everything okay?"

     John flashed him a smile, "Everything's good, why?"

     Alex shook his head, "Thought I saw something. Never mind. You would tell me if something happened, right?"

     "Of course."

     "Okay." 

     John shut himself in his room, swearing to himself. Locked the door. Won't make that mistake again.

     He pushed up his sleeve,  and bit his lip. The slits he'd made were swelling up a touch, making them red and inflamed, but not any more blood. Which was good. 

     He pulled a fitted pajama top over his head, and slid his watch onto his left wrist, some rubber bracelets on the other.

     He always wore them.

     He pulled out his phone and checked the time, and promptly sat at the wooden desk that each bedroom in the house seemed to have.

     His hands shook and his stomach pinged with the lasting sting of fear. He'd almost been caught. Red handed. It was almost laughable. Except for it wasn't.

     He pulled out his phone again, pulling up garage band, since he didn't really feel like joining Laf, George, and Martha for their movie down the hall. 

     His hopes of a few hours of people-less-ness were promptly shattered however, when a soft knock and Alex voice came rang through the previously silent room.

     "John? Hey, I know you're in there, I need to talk to you about something."

     "Um, yeah, hang on it's locked."

     John silently swore again, as he'd really wanted some privacy. 

     He opened the door and Alex came barging in, wet hair and all.

     But dressed.

     Obviously.

     Why wouldn't he be?

     "Have something you wanna tell me?"

     John pulled his best dumbfounded look, "I think your face is nice?"

     Alex rolled his eyes and tossed it  onto the desk. 

     "Don't be stupid, what is this about?"

     John turned toward what Alex had thrown. The razor. John held his breath. Fuuuuck.

     "Do you.. not shave? I'm having trouble understanding what you're asking of me here, Alex," the lie slid easily from John's lips. 

     Alex grunted, "I'm not an idiot John. I'm not going to force you to tell me the truth, but I will not be lied to."

     John curled his eyebrows in a way he hoped conveyed confusion, "Umm... I'm still not sure what you're talking about Alex."

     "Did you cut yourself or not?"

     Gulp. "Um, what do you want me to say?"

     Alex chewed his tongue, "The truth. The correct answer."

     "Those are two different things."

     John looked back down at the innocent piece of metal on the desk that had since caused this problem. No... John had caused this problem.

     "Then tell me both answers."

     John closed his eyes a moment, gathering his thoughts, "Look, I'll answer you, but I don't want this to be a thing. Okay? Yes, I cut, no I don't want to, yes I know I'm hurting myself and thus the people around me, but I just have to. Okay. So please stay out of it and for the love of god stay out of my things."

     Alex pursed his lips. There was a pregnant pause. The whole room seemed to swell with the silence. And then, "Why? You're already going through so much, why do this? I don't understand."

     John turned around and sat down, "I don't expect you to."

     "Why would you want to hurt more?! "

     "That's not an easy question to answer. Can we talk about this later? I've had a rough day. Thanks to you, now everyone at school has heard about our very public conversation about my sexuality, and I'm not in the mood for any more confrontation. Thank you."

     Alex sighed, and took the razor, "I'm taking this. You're not doing it any more. I don't care about your excuse. No more."

     And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

     Alex wanted to cry and scream and punch and thrash and slam and break. How could John do this? What the fuck was he thinking?! Was this Alex's fault? Surely it wasn't a new habit John had suddenly developed. Alex threw himself into his room and found a pillow to attack. Poor cushion never saw it coming. He screamed and cried into it, landing a few good blows onto its satin covering. His hands shook with the effort of it. He had to say something, he had  to. Then it hit him. Laf already knew. He recalled the conversation they'd had a few days after he'd arrived, 

"He tries his best, but it's never enough. It leads to some... self destructive habits." 

     When he'd heard it the first time, he thought maybe John had been getting into fights or something equally public. But no. This was an internal struggle that he took out on himself. Alex groaned and slammed his head into the mattress. "Fucking fuck fuck fuck."

     What was he going to do? He knew John would hate him if he told George or Martha, and Laf seemed to already be aware. He'd taken the razor he'd found, but there had to be more in the house. Alex balled his fists again and hit his pillow a few more times. It wasn't as fulfilling as punching John's stupid stupid stupid face for being so STUPID, but it would do for now. Martha peeked in. "Awful noisy in here, Alex. Everything alright?"

     "No!" Alex whined, his voice breaking, "No, everything is not alright!"

     Martha fully came in and shut the door behind her, "Alex?"

     Alex buried his face in the poor pillow, who had done nothing wrong. Just in the wrong place in the wrong time. Oh the irony.

     "I hate him."

     "Who?"

     "John!" Alex wailed exasperatedly.

     "Why?" She asked.

     "Because... Because he doesn't care. He doesn't care that we're trying, he doesn't care that I'm doing all that I can, he doesn't care that I love him and I hate him for it!"

     Martha sighed, climbing up onto the bed to sit with Alex, "Does he know you feel that way?"

     "I'm sure he does. He's annoying and idiotic, not oblivious."

     "Such strong language." Martha chided teasingly.

     "I've used stronger, and I would be happy to use those strong words to his face."

     Martha took a deep breath, "What brought this on?"

     "He'd hate me too if I told you."

     "What he doesn't know won't hurt him." Martha said, knowing full well that that wasn't always true, but it was here.

     Alex's face grew pinched, "I... I caught him cutting. Cutting himself. Like with a razor blade. I confronted him about it and he kind of blew me off."

     "He was doing what?" Martha looked shocked, "I-I don't know what to say..."

     "Yeah. I know."

     "So you confronted him..."

     "Yes. I tried to help and he just, lied to me. Straight through his teeth, and then he confessed, but was all like 'yeah I know it sucks or whatever but like can we not talk about it?'."

     "I have the slightest feeling you're paraphrasing." Martha soothed, rubbing Alex's back, which he welcomed. 

     "I guess so. He said that he knew it would hurt other people if they knew. And then he was all pissy about me outing him at school-" He stopped himself. Oh. No. Too late.

     "Outing him?"

     Alex slammed his face in his hands, "You're not supposed to know that either." Alex groaned, "Why can't I shut up?!"

     "What do you mean outing him?"

     "I made him tell me he was gay in the library during free period and people must've heard and now they're giving him shi- crap about it."

     Martha was stunned, "So, he's hurting himself because you made him tell you he's attracted to men?"

     "No!! At least, I don;t think so. I think he was doing it for a while. I think Laf knows. This has been an ongoing thing, I'm pretty sure."

     Martha tried to collect her thoughts, "Alexander, this is some big stuff you're dealing with here, I'm glad you told me."

     Just as Alex was going to say something else, John busted in the room. "Laf made slush... ies. Uh, sorry am I interrupting?"

     Martha spoke, "Can I talk to you hun? Alone?"

     John shot Alex the most seething glare, to which Alex mouthed 'sorry' before rushing downstairs to get some of whatever Laf had made.

Chapter Text

     John gulped, now alone with Martha, who climbed down from the bed and led him to the media room for privacy. 

     "So, what's going on kiddo?" Martha said, her eyes bleary. They were usually so bright...

     "Whatever Alex told you, you're making it a bigger deal than it is..."

     Martha frowned at him, "I don't think so, John. You know I love you like my own son, right? If something is wrong, I need to know. Why are you hurting yourself?"

    John sighed, throwing himself onto one of the fancy velvet recliners, "You'll think I'm nuts," he whispered, tears pricking his eyes. And they stung.

     "Impossible," she affirmed, sitting next to him.

     John wrung his hands, "I-I guess it's because I want to feel like... like I'm the one in control of my pain. Like I'm the only person who can hurt me, and no one else. I dunno..."

     Martha nodded and spoke slowly, "I can... see how that would make sense... But, John, you can't do this. It's too big of a risk. There has to be a healthier way for you to deal with this."

     "I guess. But I'm not..." A pause,  "I'm cleaning them, regularly, and everything, I'm being careful."

     She shook her head, "Careful isn't good enough. Can I see them?"

     John hesitated, and shook the jewelry off of his arms and rolled up his sleeves.

     Martha went pale, shook her head, "John.. oh..."

     The fresh ones were still red and puffy and angry. Older cuts were at different stages of healing, some already formed into scar tissue. But the angry, red evidence of her boy's pain was all Martha could see.

     John pulled his arms away, face flushing with embarrassment and a touch of frustration, "I don't want your pity, please."

     Martha bit her lip, "What can I do?"

     "I don't know. I don't... I don't want to stop, but I don't to hurt you, any of you. Alex especially."

     "Why Alex?"

     John blushed, "Oh, you know, he's got enough to deal with."

     "Is that all?"

     John nodded, "Yeah."

     Martha sighed, sitting up straight in her chair, "Well, he already knows. And I know it was on accident, and I know he's got a bad habit of... doing the wrong thing with sensitive information, but I think you should let him help you."

     John gulped, "I... I dunno. He's got enough on his plate, I don't want to be a burden."

     Martha took his hand, "Nonsense. Alex is a good kid. Just... Give him time to process."

╭                                    ╮

Meanwhile...

╰                                    ╯

     "Why didn't you fucking say something?! " Alex hissed once George was out of earshot from the kitchen.

     Laf frowned, "About what?"

     "The cutting thing?!"

     Laf's face went stoic, "I don't know what you're talking about."

     Alex growled, "Don't lie to me. I know you knew. You practically told, me remember?!"

     Laf sighed, "Listen, I promised not to say anything. He told me why he did it and I just thought maybe he would-"

     Alex cut him off, "Fun fact: Most people who engage in self harm are unaware of the risks. They don't do their research, and not telling anyone is the worst  thing you could do for him. You're lucky I did."

     "You did what?!"

     "Martha's talking to him."

     "No, no no, why would you do this? You're going to make it worse!"

     "Don't blame me for helping him."

     Laf snarled, "You don't understand, if he thinks he messed up, he'll start to... oh no..."

     "Start to what?"

     "You've heard enough." Laf snapped, taking his slush up to his room.

Chapter Text

 Pain is a poetic thing. Something will be out of place and it will hurt and hurt and hurt until someone makes it stop. Something makes it stop.

Pain is a monster. A hungry, insatiable beast, that feeds on joy and good feeling, twists it and perverts it into torment and agony.

Pain is something everyone knew, a friend and accomplice to all. 

For most, pain could be healed.

Medication.

Time.

Various kinds of therapy.

But sometimes the hurt doesn't stop. 

Sometimes throbbing aches and purple bruises don't fade.

Gashes don't scar.

 They only bleed.

     George and Martha could not- would not let it go.

     No matter how many times John would insist it was okay.

     It wasn't.

     "We'll get you help."

     They would say.

     John didn't know what was going on. 

     He was fine.

     Alex had hidden his razors, and quite frankly, John didn't care anymore.

     Not even that  would stop the hurt.

     It wasn't fair, and John knew that. It wasn't fair that because he was hurting he brought everyone else down with him.

     It wasn't fair that he'd fallen in love with the one person who promised to make this all go away. To fix him.

     He didn't want to be fixed.

     Maybe he deserved it once in a while.

     Pain was good.

     Pain meant you were human.

     So he went looking for it.

     He went home.

     Home.

     John found that word almost laughable.

     What was once a place of solace was now a breeding ground for hatred, a cesspool of evil.

     Disgusting.

     And yet...

     He let himself in.

     Vodka had a specific odor. Almost like ethanol. Burning and spicy and HOT.

     It brought tears to his eyes how strongly the home smelled of it.

     "Father?" He called. 

     Empty.

     Empty.

     Empty.

     Then...

     "Boy!" a screech, a man's screech. Not of pain, but of fury.

     John smiled, here it comes.

     John didn't register much. He felt as if he'd been drunk himself, blamed himself for being sober.

     Ringing.

     Bright lights.

     Martha screaming.

     Henry Jr. shouting, cursing.

     Language.

     His head hit the ground.

     Hard.

     He heard himself yelp, not a sound he'd permitted to leave.

     Then...

     Darkness.

     "Are you sure he's not in his room?" George shouted, as Lafayette came bolting down the stairs.

     "I am positive! I've checked everywhere! Nothing. All of his things are still here!"

     Marta gulped, checked the backyard a third time.

     Alex called him ceaselessly from his phone, the one George had brought home weeks ago. The one he never used. The one with only John in his contacts,

     It rang out again.

     Damn it.

     Surely he just went for a walk, or... or something.

     Who the hell just disappears like that?!

     Hours passed, the drove through the neighborhood, town square, checked with the school,

     "No he hasn't come in yet, have you called the police?"

     "Not yet, we want to absolutely sure..."

     Alex was fed up. He may care for John, but he also cared for the Washingtons. Lafayette and Martha and George don't deserve this! John wasn't their child!

     Then again neither was he.

     Morning turned to afternoon, afternoon to evening, and Martha was dialing John's father, a last resort, when:

     "Mr. and Mrs. Washington?!" Knocking hard and fast, "It's Martha, Laurens, please open up!! Please!"

     George rushed to the door, and let Martha inside, "Martha, what is it, where is he?"

     Martha scrubbed her eyes. She's been crying.

     "He-He came home. Early this morning, provoked father. Talking, talking nonsense! About pain, and-and... how he deserved it? Needed it? Father beat him senseless. He's hit his head. He's breathing but he won't wake up, and I can't get to a phone or ambulance so I-I just came here."

      Tension.

     Stunned silence washed over the room.

     The worst kind of cleanse.

     Alex broke the silence, "Wh- AH! What are we waiting for?! Let's fucking go, Laf call 911."

     No one payed any mind to his use of the curse, there were more pressing matters at hand.

     * * * 

     The car ride over was agony. Alex couldn't calm down. He cried. Laf held his hand, squeezed his shoulder. An awfully good brother. Alex didn't deserve him. 

     The Laurens' Estate looked nothing like it used to. The magnificent home looks tarnished, and tired. If buildings could even look tired.

     Something out of a dystopian novel. Ivy climbed up the walls, white paint tuned to a nasty yellow.

     Alex felt dizzy. Only horrible things can happen here.

     When they entered, the home was a sight.

     Dangling cabinets, broken glass, John siblings struggling to keep Henry calm, and John-

     Oh god, John

~*~

     It was sickening, and Alex's stomach churned. His whole face was bloodied, his nose was probably broken. An eye slowly swelling shut. His body was laying in an unnatural position. Broken. Limp and Lifeless. Alex clamored down to him, removing a curl from his forehead, sticky with blood. John made a sound, thank god, a sound.

     Eerie stillness as they waited on the ambulance to arrive. Alex gently checked his wounds, his hands turning a haunting shade of vermilion.

     He should be scared, he should be... doing something. Instead, he was just sitting there, watching John's shallow breaths get shorter and shorter.

     Alex pulled back, at the request of George. And he did his best not to burst into tears or lash out in retaliation, give to Henry exactly what Henry had given to John, to do something. He had to do something.

     John groaned, opening his eyes only to be blinded by the setting sun. Alex's hand in his hair, head in Alex's lap? He made a soft, gentle humming noise, comforting.

     John felt dizzy and sick and his side hurt  like hell. 

     "John?" Alex whispered, and when he saw he was awake, he said it again, "John, hey! Hey, no, don't try to sit up. You're busted up pretty bad. What were you thinking?"

     John couldn't answer. Couldn't make words. Pressed his cheek into Alex's thigh, hoping for more gentle words. Gentle Gentle Gentle...

     He sniffled, feeling a tear roll over his cheek, "Hey, the ambulance is on the way, okay? You're gonna be fine." The second sentence sounded more like a question.

     John gulped, feeling the light start to fade again. His side. "M'side.." John slurred, "hurts..."

     "You'll be okay. Can you try and stay awake for me?" 

     Martha's face now in view, but only for a moment, before he gave in and plunged into inky black, sticky and sweet and welcoming. 

     And dark.

     Bright white light and ringing ringing ringing god that's annoying cut it out jesus.

     John woke up slowly, gradually, consciousness seeming like a fluid state of being, not being in or out, but somewhere in between.

     Once he was fully awake he was alone. Loopy and floaty, lots of tubes and sticks, braces and the like, prevented him from moving. Found his voice was weak and almost nonexistent.

     The lights were too bright.

     And no one was here.

     Had they left him?

     Waited until someone else could take care of him, and left him alone?

     Where was Alex?

     He wanted Alex.

     He wanted his mom.

     He wanted Laf.

     He wanted Alex.

     He wanted Martha. Both of them.

     He wanted Alex.

     He wanted George.

     He wanted Henry Jr. and Mary Eleanor and little James.

     And he wanted.

     Alex.

Chapter Text

     Alex wouldn't sit down. He paced around the hospital waiting room for hours. A social worker had talked to them, she worked for the hospital. George called Kitty, let her know what was going on just in case. God, how long had it been since Alex had talked to kitty?

     "Family of John Laurens?" A nurse called from the reception desk.

     Everyone stood up, Martha -- John's sister -- stood up and led the group forward. 

     "I'm aware you are mostly friends, any blood relatives?" the nurse cooed.

     Martha (Laurens) raised her hand timidly, "Uh, me."

     The nurse whisked her away, and Alex was made to wait. Again.

     When Martha returned she was ash white. She addressed the Washington family, "He-He um... They said he sustained primarily surface and flesh wounds. Some ribs and his left leg is broken. They said the trauma to his head might have caused brain damage, but they're not sure how much. Could be anywhere from concussion to a-a ton of other things I didn't know what they meant, I'm sorry."

     Mrs. Washington shushed her, wrapping the young girl in a tight hug, "That's okay, dear. I know this is hard. This is hard for everyone, but I know this is especially hard for you, love." She quietly rocked the Martha back and forth as she cried.

     Alex chewed his knuckle. Broken leg? Brain damage?! 

     He took a shaky breath. 

     This felt too familiar. Deja Vu. But in a reversed role. Unsettling.

~*~

"Stupid boy! Can't keep your damn hands off my shit!"

Shouting hardly startled him anymore, but something was different this time.

The door busted open, and Alex instantly smelled it.

Booze.

Fuck.

His makeshift desk and homework in shambles on the floor

Paper everywhere

Stumbling back, back, back, get away FROM ME

I am not a victim.

Hand on his 

picked up by his torso

Soaring

through

the

air

flying was terrifying.

Hard ground

cold stone tile

Shooting pain up his leg.

He screamed, bloody murder.

someone

anyone

again

no response.

no one cared.

shut up no one wants to hear your wining dumb whoreson dont ever touch my shit again fucking faggot boy don't know how to keep your damn mouth shut clean up this fucking mess i dont wanna see your fucking face until you've cleaned this whole house on your hands and knees you're not allowed to walk because shit dont speak worthless goodfornothingstupidfaggotlickthefloorfuckingidiotboycan'tkeepyourhandstoyourselfdontlookatmestopcryingwhatareyouababydontgivemethatfaceoryou'llbecleaningthetoiletwithyourmouthtonight

~*~

     Alex was hyperventilating. George shoved him in a chair, tried to calm him down, but panicked gasps only dissolved into tears. Why was he so upset?!

     "four... five... six..." He caught snippets of counting, remembered what his therapist and George had taught him. Tried to breathe. 

     It took over an hour, and he still didn't feel anywhere near better, but for the moment, sitting in a hospital chair wrapped in Mrs. Washington's shawl, breathing steady, shaky, counted breaths was the best he could do. 

     They went home that night. Brought young Martha with them.

     No one slept.

     Martha got a call around 10:00 the next morning.

     They rushed to the hospital.

     "Yes, he's awake, but here's the dilemma," Dr. Bomar explained, "He's asking for you. But since he's a minor and his legal guardian is not of sound mind to be making decision on his behalf, I can't let you in- er, at least not all of you. You're his sister, correct?"

     Poor Martha, only twelve, nodded. 

     "Since you're immediate family, you can go in and see him. You can bring anyone back with you that you'd like. But only one maybe two can go with her at a time. If I bend the rules. Which I'm willing to do here, due to your predicament. Okay?"

     Everyone nodded.

     George and Martha Washington stayed back the first go-round. Let the boys see their friend. Alex thanked them profusely. 

     It was a sight to behold. John looked so tiny  in that hospital bed. He seemed to only be half awake when they opened the door. When he saw their faces, however, he lit up. Pale and broken and bruised and still somewhat bloodied he may be, the smile that spread across John's face was warm and genuine.

     It didn't last.

     "What the fuck  were you thinking, Jack?!" Martha nearly screamed, "You could've gotten yourself killed!"

     John gulped, looked down at his lap.

     "John you scared us," Alex whispered, "You're lucky you're more or less fine, because god knows what could've happened to you. When we got there you were... mangled and bloody and... I thought you were going to die. Even I haven't been beaten that badly. John we love you, why would you go back there? Even after you knew he would-"

     Lafayette placed a hand on Alex's shoulder, a signal to stop.

     "I guess what we are all wondering... is why?" Lafayette said firmly, but gently.

     John stared up at them, making the most sorrowful face, "Why... 'm sorry, I just... just... 'm.." The words were... broken, and didn't make much sense. 

     "John?"

     John rubbed his face scrubbed tears, "Sorry, uh..." He whispered, talked very, very slowly, "Having a hard time... getting thoughts- words out. Doctor said it might be 'cause dad threw me on the floor, don't 'member. Just, shock and a basket full of other things. 'M sorry."

     "Why?" Laf prompted again.

     John shrugged, "Dunno, needed to feel. To hurt. My head was... fucked up. Wasn't thinking straight. Was weird... but I need... I needed... I needed to feel it."

Dead

Silence

     Alex's eyes stung with tears, "John you didn't have to-"

     "You don't understand!" John all but screeched, "I needed to know I was in control of how I felt and I went god damn nuts, okay?! I don't need pity! I just... I just... I just wanted to feel okay..."

     "And what did that accomplish, John? Tell me." Alex snipped, "Getting yourself hospitalized? Terrifying your siblings, and me? The Washingtons? What about them? They're hurting too! You tricked us all into caring about you so that you could drag us through the mud when you lost control? I don't think so-"

     "Alexander," Laf cut in. Ignored.

     "John, I love you to pieces. All of us do. But you can't put everyone through hell because you're going through hell. I tried that. It doesn't. Work. So if I were you I would take into careful consideration your next moves here because I won't tolerate your emotional roller coaster anymore if you don't get some help. George and Martha have been talking to a social worker for hours trying to get your situation sorted out. We've spent hours in that waiting room for you. You don't get to be fucking upset at us. Do you understand me? No more. If you want help, ask for it, accept it, don't waste it. I can't bear to watch you go to pieces anymore. Open your god damn eyes, John." and then he stormed out. 

No more. I can't take any more. I love him too much.

Chapter Text

     Three weeks.

     Three Days.

     And Four Hours.

     John was in the hospital.

     John's aunt visited, took the kids. 

     Henry was arrested.

     So was Darcy, Henry's girlfriend.

     John stayed at A&E until he was released.

     Alex hadn't caught much of how it'd worked out, but somehow, the Washingtons gained full custody of John through his aunt Carol.

     John more or less bounced back. 

     Became more wary though. 

     Alexander and John had grown closer than ever. Trusted one another with their lives, like John had before.

     But John was certainly different, like he'd hit reset. New attitude, gentler temperament.

     Strange.

     Alex yearned for him, though. A feeling he both loved and hated.

     Love.

     Funny.

     There was more basement piano.

     He was healing. 

     He was doing better.

     Went to therapy twice a week, Alex went once a week. Laf, too. 

     Then it happened.

     After the incident  John starting having intense flashbacks and panic attacks. Sometimes lasted hours long. All day. Out of nowhere. Triggered by small things. They didn't happen often, but when they did happen, it was terrifying for all parties.

Dinner: Tuesday Night--

     John had started back at school the day before. He had seemed tired, stressed, but that was to be expected. Dinner was quiet, quaint, and quite delicious. So when Laf accidentally knocked and shattered a glass onto the floor and John began panicking, it was rather expected. 

    Alex rushed to John's side as George hurried to clean up the mess.

     Routine.

     Deep breaths, open your eyes, look at me

     Routine.

     But John would not come down.

     Silent and eerily staring off into space, John stayed completely still.

     "Jacky, hey..." Alex pried again, trying to shatter the thick, invisible barrier that was somehow clearly visible in John's eyes, "I need you to focus, can you tell me where you are?"

     First, soft whimpers and mumbles, and then, "Home. With you, and... and George and Martha..." John whispered, barely audible.

     "Good, and do you know who I am?"

     " 'Lex." John muttered, wiping a tear quickly off his face.

     "Awesome, perfect, you're doing so good. Can you tell me five things you can see?"

     Grounding questions: Annoying, time consuming, tedious and difficult

     But effective.

     A few hours later, John definitely wasn't right as rain, but he was a helluva lot better.

     Alex walked him up to his room on shaky legs. Sits him up on the bed. Starts toward the door.

     "Alex?" John croaked pitifully.

     "Yes?"

     "Stay? Please?"

     Alex's heart broke, and he knew he had to. It wouldn't be the first time," 'Course. Do you want me to sit at the desk or..."

     "In the bed, if you... don't mind?" Of course.

     Alex smiled, "No, no, yeah it's cool!"

     And they stayed there, laying together, Alex's arm around John's shoulders.

     John rolled over onto Alex's chest, which Alex welcomed.

     "Thank you," John muttered into the soft material of Alex's tee shirt.

     Alex ran fingers through John's hair, "Don't worry about it."

     John sat up a little, looked at Alex with bleary eyes, "I am worried about it. You don't have to help me."

     Alex sighed, here we go again. Ever since Alex had snapped at him in the hospital, John had kind of had a major reality check. He was a lot more humble and gained the humility he lacked.

     "Jacky, 's okay. I like helping you, if anything it kind of gives me closure for what I've been through. It's something we share, and we're both at different stages of healing, and we're helping each other. I don't think you understand that every time I talk you down from an attack or hug you when you're feeling worthless, it just validates that it's not just over for you. It's over for me, too, okay? This is mutual, even if it doesn't look that way."

     John half-smiled and laid back on Alex's chest. Totally platonic. 

     A beat of silence. Or two. Or three. And then:

     "I think I love you." John muttered, again into Alex's shirt.

     At first Alex laughed it off.

     "I'm serious," John deadpanned, sitting up again, "Actually, I don't think I'm in love you. I'm one-hundred percent sure that I love you."

     Alex was silent a moment and scooted up so he was sitting up straight, "Look Jack, I don't think you're ready for something like th-"

     "I know. I don't think so either, but I need you to know that I am in love with you. I've been holding myself back from every feeling I've ever felt for as long as I can remember and I am done. I'm tired of hiding from my emotions, and I need you to know how I feel so please, please, don't lecture me."

     Alex nodded, biting his lip.

     The entire house was still and quiet, which made John's gut twist.

     Then, a hand on his.

     "I love you too, by the way."

     John bared that crooked smile again, "Good, I hoped so, otherwise this would be crazy awkward and this platonic cuddling really would be platonic and..."

     Alex rolled his eyes, chuckled, and placed a short, chaste kiss on John's lips, mostly to shut him the fuck up. 

     John froze, face blank and tomato red. 

     And then he crashed into Alex with his whole body. He kissed him with a force and a passion Alexander had never seen (or felt, supplied his brain) come from a person. While jarring, Alex immediately melted into the kiss, his slightly chapped lips mingling with impossibly soft ones. And the kissed and they kissed and they kissed and they kissed and sparks- no, full blown atomic bombs- exploded everywhere, leaving no one else on Earth but the two of them. And the room was warm, and full of love and joy.

     When they finally did break for air, first there was panting, and then overwhelming laughter.

     For over an hour.

     "Alex, Alex, wait stop a sec," John wheezed through giggles, "Just double checking, I did just kiss you on my bed? I wasn't hallucinating?"

     Alex chuckled, "Yeah, yeah, for sure. But like, we can't make this a regular thing."

     "We'll sort that out later."

     "Fine, but you need to rest you've had a really long, emotional night okay?"

     John sighed, but accepted his fate, "Okay. Stay?"

     "Always."