Just a drabble ... set somewhere in an AU I'm writing, based on the often-pondered idea of Alex coming to America.
The black umbrella reminded him of the funeral, although they'd buried his grandfather on a sunny day. It exuded a certain understated dignity and seemed oddly aged, despite it's newness. It didn't surprise him that Jonathan, who was resting his head absentmindedly on the Slav's shoulder, should own such a plain and morbid thing. Alex observed him from the corner of his vision, unwilling to shift at all, unwilling to shake him out of thoughts he couldn't even begin to know. Jonathan's religiously combed hair subtly reflected the flashing taillights of the cars stopped at the intersection, and the dull sheen was mesmerizing, like the rain that pattered around them, or the cinematic steam that rose from the street vents. That day he'd convinced him to go out and just look at the city. Not the tourist traps filled with snapping cameras and money, but the ordinary places, like street corners, fast food stands, cramped dollar stores, badly lit train stations. Alex enjoyed the glitter, but Jonathan knew a city was revealed in gutters, and showed him graffiti, cigarettes burnt out on sidewalks, dropped change, benevolent hostility. It was raining and they were waiting for a bus, but for once Alexander Perchov didn't want to be anywhere else.