"I'm begging you, slow down," Day groaned, practically stumbling down the pavement. "Molly, please please can you not?"
Alex didn't even bother to swallow his snicker. "You always talk to your dog like this?"
"Yeah, she sometimes— hey quit it please— she sometimes listens. Usually not."
Straining at the end of her leash, Molly the German Shepherd barked loudly and then panted happily, tongue lolling out of her mouth. She was wearing a hand-knit sweater apparently made by Day's Aunt Ginger. It was green and hideous, but Molly had been perfectly happy to allow Day to wrestle it on, back at the house.
Alex grinned and stole a glance beside him at Day's absolutely exasperated face. The other boy was holding tightly to Molly's bright pink leash, as she tugged heavily at her collar, struggling ahead like she could smell the park.
Which, maybe she could. Alex didn't actually know enough about dogs, to be honest.
"Hey, how good is a dog's sense of smell?"
"It's fantastic," Day replied. "Like, roughly 50 times better than a human's, in many different ways."
"Wow. Really?"
"Yeah. And German shepherds are some of the best scenters, so."
"Wow." Alex repeated. It was honestly really really nice to be able to ask Day whatever questions he had about animals, and always receive a well-informed answer. He'd never thought about how fun it would be to have a friend who could tell him things without being condescending about it, but wow. He really enjoyed it.
The thought made his good mood sour slightly because oh right. These questions would probably be all he was ever going to ask Day. He'd decided, last night, after shooting off a quick, I made it back alright. Everything is fine here, text to Day, that it was the wrong move to get any closer to Day. He would remain casual, normal friends with him, and that would be it.
He was spiralling downward. He'd been spiralling downward, for years, truthfully. And yes he'd been trying to get better. He'd been trying so hard and Tom and Jerry were there to help him and he knew they loved and cared for him and would do their best to make him better- but he still wasn't an okay person. He was a hateful squirm of darkness in the skin of a human, and that just wasn't alright to introduce to others.
Day was such a kind and patient and relaxed guy. He was so much more well-adjusted than Alex. It would be horrible for Day if Alex were to bring his darkness into his life, and it would be horrible for Alex because he'd lose such a wonderful friend— so Alex was going to maintain his distance while he focused on bettering himself. Because he wanted to be a better person, he wanted it more than he'd ever wanted almost anything else. He just… wasn't there yet. And he could hardly imagine ever being okay, but he wasn't going to give up. That wasn't who he was.
For now, his first step in the long term plan of fixing himself was to apologize to Alil.
He'd been cruel and hurtful, and his words had come from a place of fear, but that didn't make them okay. His guardian had been gone, when he'd woken up. Alex had silently poured himself a bowl of dry cereal, mind churning over the awful things he'd said, an iron hand of guilt clutching at his heart and squeezingsqueezingsqueezing.
Yes, his first step was reconciling with Alil— if he could.
He remembered when he'd blown up on Monika Borisov, one of his earlier guardians. She'd done something little, something that shouldn't have even mattered— and Alex had just about lost it. He'd said some incredibly horrible things to her, things he should never have known in the first place.
But the next morning, he'd sat down on the couch to wait for Monika, to apologize, to beg if he had to (because he'd known he was on thin ice with Jones, he'd known it and he'd been so afraid) and Monika could hardly meet his eyes. She'd been so angry. She'd walked out 30 minutes later with her things and she hadn't come back.
So yeah. He was going to make things right with Alil. Not only because it was the right thing to do, the moral thing, but also because if Jones got her hands on him again he'd probably kill himself.
"Anyway, we're close now," Day said, breaking Alex out of his gloomy thoughts. "We can probably let her run around for 30 minutes or something and then head back in time for the others to get here." At that moment, Day's back pocket buzzed, and he fished his phone out and glanced at the screen. "And Robin and Sierra are with Aunt Ginger. Mum's heading back now."
It was Friday, and Martinique and Maria were meeting up with them at Day's apartment to work on their English project. As agreed upon previously, Alex had arrived an hour or two early so that he could spend some time alone with Molly. Day's mum had been en route to his aunt's house to drop off his sisters, and they'd narrowly missed each other.
"Great," Alex said, trying his best to hide his nerves. "I can't wait to meet your mother."
Because there was nothing to be nervous about. He hadn't been nervous meeting James' mum, or Tom's mum, back when she'd been around. So why would he feel like this about Day's mother?
So the answer to that was: he wasn't nervous. And he took a small moment to take a deep breath, focus on the sharp wind on his face, and shove that emotion deep down into his chest with the rest of the emotions he didn't want to face. And then it was like it didn't exist at all.
"I think she'll like you," Day said, grinning a small grin. "You're a lot like my Aunt Ginger actually— Molly, hey!— and it would be even better if you could meet her. Maybe another time."
"Maybe," Alex said quietly.
And then they took a corner and they were at the park.
"30 minutes only," Day said to Molly sternly, crouching down to unclip her collar. "And no more."
And then Molly was off like a jet, zooming around the field in front of them in narrowing concentric circles, panting louder than Alex thought possible. Her paws, thundering across the ground, sprayed up bits of grass and dirt like a weedwacker. There were only two or three other people at the park, none with dogs, and they all looked over at Molly with amusement.
"Oh my god," he said, and raised his phone, a wide grin splitting across his face. "I've got to send a video to Tom. He literally acts just like Molly when we go to the park to play footy."
"Tom's a nutter," Day laughed.
Alex grinned as he shot off the video in his group chat with Tom and James, and then typed, 'Is this Tom?'
James almost immediately texted back 'Lol!' and a couple of laughing emojis. Tom, he knew, probably wouldn't see it for a while, because he was already on his way up north to go rock-climbing with Jerry and Jerry's friends. He'd decided last minute to tag along. The Harris brothers wouldn't be back until Sunday night at the latest.
"She really just goes, huh?" Alex observed. "How old is she, anyway?"
"About 11. We got her from the kennel when she was four."
"Was she already named Molly?"
"Yeah." Day grinned and leaned down closer. "I wanted to name her Megatron, actually, so thank Christ she came pre-named."
They were standing very close together. Too close? Alex wasn't sure, so he decided to ignore it.
"Megatron's not bad. I once had a goldfish I won at the fair I named Hadjidakis."
Day laughed out loud. "What?"
"Yeah, I was going through a music phase. I don't really like to talk about it."
"Maybe for the best," Day said, still grinning. "What happened to it?"
"It died within, like, 10 hours of bringing it home."
"Classic carnival fish. Were you sad?"
"Kind of. Made me wish I had a dog. They usually last a bit longer."
They both looked out at Molly, who was still running around frantically, as if she were a teenager who had just realized she'd left the oven on, but couldn't find the oven.
"Does she just… do that the entire time?"
"Pretty much," Day admitted. "Usually I run around with her, but when it's so cold like this, I sometimes just let her entertain herself. She can go for hours."
"I think I love her," Alex said honestly.
And Day beamed. He had to look away because oh my god. Jesus Christ. Day was so attractive it made his chest hurt, and his teeth were so white, and he looked so good when he was happy—
"We could throw her toy around a little?" Day suggested, reaching into his bag which contained the smaller plastic bags and shovel, and pulling out Molly's worn out rope toy.
At the word toy, Molly's entire body slammed to an abrupt stop and she turned to look at them immediately, tongue lolling out of her mouth.
"Smart dog," Alex observed, amused. He reached for the rope.
They spent the next 30 minutes throwing the rope around to each other. They played catch, with Molly in the middle, and then fetch. At one point, Alex had the rope in his hands with Molly's teeth clenched around the other end, both pulling for all they were worth. It ended with Alex flat on his back, Day laughing above him, and Molly licking his face.
By the time they were ready to go, both boys were flushed in the face, sweat on their brows, and grass stains on their knees. On Day's literal knees, because his black jeans were artfully pre-ripped.
Molly wasn't even winded.
"She's outrageous," Alex said as they headed back, backs against the wind. "How can she go for so long?"
"She's fit from rolling around with Robin all the time," Day huffed back. "Rob's a disaster, the two of them have knocked over so much stuff in the house."
"I bet your mum loves that. And um. Speaking of your mum, what should I call her? Like, Ms. Webster? Or Ms… first name?"
"Rosemary. Ms. Rosie would work. Look Alex, don't worry," Day nudged him with an elbow. "My mum's going to love you, okay?"
The next step Alex took carried him away as well as forward, creating a noticeable gap between them. He did it casually, easily, but Day still blinked at him, a small furrow appearing between his brows. Damn it.
"I'm not worried," he said, ignoring the look on the other boy's face. "Your mother sounds really nice."
When they got back to Day's apartment, Molly practically barrelled through the door when Day opened it, and a voice called out, "Molly! Don't get on the couch yet— hey, please!"
Alex glanced at Day with a small grin. So he definitely took after his mother. They both toed off their shoes and placed them on the little rack beside the door, just as Rosemary Webster rounded the corner with a beaming smile and he realized, Day really did take after his mum.
Rosemary Webster was about 5'10", which was a bit shorter than Day, but still rather tall for a woman. Day certainly got his height from her. She also had his smooth hair and dark eyes, and her chin was pointed just the same. She was wearing dark jeans and a button up top. A laminated ID card swung from her neck on a thick lanyard.
"Mum," Day closed the door behind them and smiled at the woman. "Hey. This is Alex. Alex, my mum."
"Hey sweetheart!" It was only as the woman was reaching to take his hand that Alex realized she was talking to him. "You can call me Ms. Rosie." She had a firm grip. "Come in, please! Can I get you something to drink? We've been drinking hot chocolate for the last week straight because of the cold."
"Um— not right now— thank you?" He was nearly overwhelmed by the warmth the woman gave off.
"Well, if you ever want anything, love, you can just look in the fridge and the pantries. Anything you see you can just go ahead and take, okay?"
"Okay," Alex said, definitely overwhelmed now. Was this what mothers were supposed to be like? "Thank you Ms. Webster," he said, and then blushed, because she had just said that Ms. Rosie was fine.
Rosemary popped her hip out and settled down to talk. "So my son says that you two have class together. Is that just English?"
"Just English this year. Last year we had World History."
"Do you have a favourite subject?"
"Probably maths. Maybe chemistry though. I like numbers."
"That's wonderful to hear love, I remember hating maths when I was in school." She smiled at him. "Any idea what you want to do after you graduate?"
And Alex had no idea what to say to that because for the longest time he hadn't thought he'd even make it to adulthood. He still wasn't sure, not really. Usually he was okay. Mostly. Okay enough, really. But there were some days where he just couldn't see anything past the sick blackness in his body. He couldn't imagine there could ever be anything more.
His gut clenched and he opened his mouth to answer, but found that his throat had dried up and he couldn't speak—
Day's hand came up to settle on his shoulder and then Day was stepping up close to him. "Mum, come on, Alex probably doesn't want to think about that stuff."
And Alex nodded, relief flooding him at the life-line Day had thrown. "It's kind of a scary prospect," he answered almost truthfully.
"Yeah, I remember how it was." Rosemary held up her hands, grinning. "Don't worry. Things have a way of falling into place."
Day tugged gently at his shoulder. "Mom, Alex and I are going to head to my room. The others should be here in like 30 minutes."
"Alright love." She pulled Day's head down and gave him a kiss on the cheek, and then turned and smiled at Alex. "It was lovely to meet you, sweetheart."
"You too, Ms. Rosie."
She left down the hallway and they heard a distant "Wait— Molly no!"
Day grinned down at him. "Dog's a menace, I'm telling you. Come on then, let's go see my room."
He led Alex down a hardwood hallway and stopped at a doorway that was slightly ajar. He pushed the door open and gestured that it was okay for Alex to enter.
Alex took a careful step inside and immediately felt a quiet grin work its way across his mouth.
"It's very you, Day," he said.
The room was mid-sized, with the bed against the far corner and the desk settled opposite. The walls were covered in all sorts of things, in a busy, but not exactly cluttered way: band posters with colourful designs, a large scale print of different aquatic animals swimming against a blue backdrop, scientific names scrawled under the different species, some simple paintings of some very lopsided looking dogs...
"Robin's art," Day said proudly, noticing his gaze. "It's Molly and what she thinks Molly's parents looked like. Pretty good, huh?"
"Talented for a 9 year old," he agreed, although he wasn't actually sure of the veracity of the statement. He wasn't quite aware of the average 9 year old's artistic talents. He nodded to the wall near the window. "And the map? That's definitely nowhere on Earth."
"Westeros," Day supplied. "From Game of Thrones."
"Tom would probably love to have that in his room."
"Tom has taste sometimes."
"Course he does. He chose me for a best mate, didn't he?"
"I did say 'sometimes'," Day said and Alex grinned and rolled his eyes.
"Tosser." He wandered over to the bed— the covers were ruffled but not messy. "Nice Pikachu plushie, by the way."
"I can't even tell if you're making fun of me."
"I'm actually not," Alex said. He reached out to pick up the doll and then paused and glanced back at Day. Only when permission was nodded did he pick it up. "I love Pokémon. It's pretty universally popular, so it was always on, even out of country. That and Powerpuff Girls."
"I've watched so much Powerpuff Girls, it's outrageous. Robin has a crush on the evil monkey, I think."
"If you've watched so much Powerpuff Girls I refuse to believe you don't know that his name is Mojo Jojo."
Day plopped down on his bed with a huff, sending a handful of coloured pencils on the bedspread bouncing to the floor. "I did know his name, I just thought that it might be kind of embarrassing to." He gave him a pointed look.
"Day, knowing you has used up all of my embarrassment for the next ten years." Alex grinned at him and moved over to the desk against the far wall.
The desk was covered in all sorts of mugs, varying in size and style, but all crammed fit to spill over with pens and pencils and markers of every kind. A row of books lined up against the back of the desk against the wall, and there was a small framed photograph on the desktop of Day and his mother standing next to who he could only assume to be Day's father.
Day looked young in the picture. Around 6 or 7, with shaggy brown hair hanging in his face, and a wide, happy grin. He was tall and thin even in the picture, but he looked far more gawky and awkward than he did now. His father was tall as well, with light skin and an easy grin spread across his face. They were all holding up large sticks like swords and brandishing them at the camera.
"You were a cute kid."
"Thanks—"
"What happened?"
"Oh ha ha," Day rolled his eyes, although he was grinning too. "Come here." He swept the coloured pencils next to him up into a pile, and then patted the space next to him on the bed.
Alex hesitated for a brief moment, and then padded across the room and sat down, careful to leave a wide space between the two of them. Day noticed, he was sure of it, considering the glance the other boy gave the distance, but he didn't say anything.
"I like your room. I couldn't quite picture what it would look like, but honestly this fits you so much."
"Thanks."
"And your mum— she's really nice. I didn't think— I mean, I didn't think she'd be mean or anything but— she's really nice."
"Yeah," Day said, voice quiet and much more serious than it had been moments before. "I'm really lucky to have her. She's really patient and accepting and, well… I know a lot of people don't have parents like that. I hear so many stories from other people and I always feel kind of guilty because my mother is just— I mean, she's not perfect, but she's really really good." Day glanced at him from the corner of his eyes, and asked. "Do you… This might be really horrible to ask and obviously you don't have to answer if you don't want, but— do you remember your parents? At all?"
Alex was quiet for a very long moment.
"No," he said eventually. "No, I don't remember anything about them. When I said they died when I was really young, I meant really young. I was about one. Their plane kind of... exploded on the runway. I had an ear infection, so I didn't go with them."
"Oh shit," Day's hand flew up like he wanted to touch Alex, but then he visibly hesitated and jerked his arm back down. Alex felt the loss like a punch of ice to the chest. "Shit. Sorry. That's really awful, Alex."
"Yeah. And then, um. My uncle took me in and raised me, until he died in a car accident when I was 14."
Day's dark eyes were looking at him with such empathy that he had to glance away. He picked at the comforter, staring down at his bruised knuckles. That whole sequence of events did sound kind of tragic. And that wasn't even taking into account anything that happened next.
"And that's when you went into foster care?"
"Yeah. It wasn't like, ideal, but-" He stopped. But what? He shifted on the bed. Why was he even talking about this? Hadn't he already made his decision to keep a distance from Day? It was harder than he thought— Day was too easy to talk to. Almost as easy as talking to Tom, which, considering he'd been best friends with Tom for about five years, was somewhat shocking.
"Alex?"
"Never mind," he said. "Just— never mind."
Day was looking at him again. Carefully. Deliberately. The silence stretched and almost became awkward— but before it got to that point, Day broke it quietly, "You know it was kind of difficult for me to grow up without a male adult in the house."
Alex glanced at him, curious despite his own orders. "Your mum…?"
"She did her best and I'm not saying that there's anything wrong with single-parent households. I'm not. My mum has been lovely. But sometimes… sometimes I really wished I'd had my dad around more. Like… Nobody taught me how to shave. Or do up a tie. I just had to Google that stuff. It was kind of… sad."
"That's fair to feel, Day. It sounds sad."
The gap between Alex's thigh and Day's no longer felt quite as far. It was quiet in the bedroom, the door just cracked. Somewhere in the distance of the house, Day's mother was chattering to the dog, but her voice was muffled, faint. In her bedroom, or the kitchen.
"What happened?" Alex asked quietly before he could stop himself.
Day chewed on his bottom lip, and Alex's eyes were drawn to the movement. His teeth really were so very white.
"My parents had a pretty difficult relationship," he said, drawing Alex's attention back up to his eyes, which were staring off at his desk. "Not bad, always. Or at least, I never thought so when I was younger. But I guess looking back, there were probably a lot of signs that I missed."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And I guess… I don't know. They weren't right for each other. They had a lot of the same opinions on things— finances and politics and stuff. But their temperaments have always been pretty different. My mum used to be more serious— way more serious than she is now. And my dad was always the 'fun' parent, you know?"
Alex didn't really. He didn't even have one parent. He nodded for Day to continue. Maybe he didn't want to get into things with Day— maybe. But Christ, would it be so shitty to cut this conversation off right now. Day was being vulnerable, in ways Alex could never quite manage. He was surprised by the depth of envy he felt at that thought.
"And then— it happened when I was asleep, actually. And they were surprisingly quiet. They were always quiet when they were fighting. Kind of hissing to each other. Neither of them wanted me to hear them shouting, because, despite it all, despite what they were to each other, they were good parents. They are." He took a moment of silent reflection, expression thoughtful and sad, before continuing. "My dad slapped her. Just once, right across the face. She didn't even bruise. But Alex, my mom has always told me, always, since I was like five or something— 'Never even once.'"
"God," Alex said, eyes wide.
"Yeah. And the very next day we moved in with my aunt and my mother filed for divorce."
"That quickly?"
"Yeah." Day smiled. It was bitter, but not as bitter as Alex would have expected for what he'd just admitted. Maybe he really had gotten over it all in those seven years since. "She would never risk any of us getting hurt."
A sudden thought clicked in Alex's head. "But.. I'm sorry, but didn't you say you- um- usually spend your summers with your dad?"
"I did say that. And I do." Day turned to him and his fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach out and take Alex's hand. But he didn't, and Alex twisted his own hands together to stem the feeling of loss. "Things aren't always so black and white, is the thing. My dad isn't some sort of monster. He's a good father, and a pretty good guy. A great guy, even. My parent's divorce was probably the best thing that could have happened to him, really. And he's a much healthier, happier man. He's never hit another person, as far as I know."
"It's hard to trust people once they hit you," Alex said with the weight of firsthand knowledge.
"Yeah. But he's my dad, you know? And my mum gave it some time, and then let him back into our lives. And I'm really really thankful that she did, because I love my dad, and I enjoy spending time with him, and I miss him when I'm not with him."
"Even though he struck your mother?"
"Yeah." Day bit his lip. "And sometimes I still feel guilty about enjoying his company so much, after he hit my mum, but… if my mum can forgive him— and she really has— then it's not my place to hold a grudge, is it? I mean, if she can move on, shouldn't I?"
Alex didn't say anything to that. He wouldn't exactly call himself an expert on 'moving on.' He thought for a moment and then asked instead, "Do your parents get along now?"
"Actually, yeah. They're not friends or anything, but for having divorced each other, it's pretty great. They even sat next to each other at Robin's Girl Scout ceremony last summer."
"Wow." He couldn't imagine Tom's parents even staying in the same city as each other without incurring major property damage.
"Yeah. It's just… It's all very complicated, isn't it? And I'm not saying I'd understand fully or anything—" Day was watching him out of the corner of his eyes, Alex realized. He was very good at that. He had the makings of a novice spy, he mused— and then a feeling of such physical sickness slammed into him at that thought that he felt his gorge rise in his throat.
"—but if you ever want to talk about anything at home," Day was saying, but Alex wasn't listening. He didn't want to listen.
"Thanks," he interrupted. "I'll think about it. Hey, why don't we go get set up at the table? The others should be here soon."
He stood abruptly. Day's mouth was still open, mid-sentence. He closed it, surprise and disappointment flickering across his face.
Maybe not such a great spy then, Alex thought viciously and pointedly looked away.
20 minutes later the two of them were seated around the dining room table, laptops open and papers scattered around them in neat piles. Rosemary was in the kitchen peeling open a package of preformed cookie dough.
The doorbell rang, and Day hopped up. He'd been startlingly quiet since Alex had shut him down. "Be right back."
He came back with Martinique Hasegawa and Maria Sanchez flanking him like troops.
"Alex!" Maria lit up in delight, rushing over. "You're already here! Martinique and I met at the door, we actually both arrived at like, the exact same time."
"Hey Maria," Alex said, rising to give her the obligatory hug. "Yeah, I came a bit earlier than you guys. You look nice, by the way."
"Thank you, the overalls are actually new. I know they're a trend, but I wasn't sure they would fit, like, my aesthetic? But my sister made me buy them so like, glad you like the look!" She gave a little twirl and ended with two thumbs up and a wide grin. Then she turned to Rosemary and stuck out her hand. "And you must be Mrs. Webster! Maria Sanchez, it's a pleasure."
"Ms. Rosie is fine," Rosemary said, a small grin of entertainment twitching at her lips. "It's lovely to meet you sweetheart." She turned to Martinique, who was hovering at Day's side, eyes darting all around the room, shoulders tense. "And what's your name then, love?"
"Martinique." Another handshake. "You have a lovely home." Her voice was solemn and her bright pink hair was scraped back and pinned in place with a few well-placed pins.
"Thanks love. Well! I'll get out of your way then. The cookies will be finished in a few minutes, just listen for the beep. You guys can take anything from the fridge. If you want a drink, just ask Day."
And then with one last smile she swept out, leaving the four teens alone.
"Your mum is aces," Maria said. "Like, she seems really nice."
"She's pretty great, yeah," Day replied. He didn't say anything else, which made a pulse of smugness ripple through Alex. Day's personal thoughts on the matter were only for Alex then. Good. "Anyway, just sit wherever. Alex and I have already set up."
"So how early did you get here, then?" Maria asked Alex as she flopped down into the chair next to him. "You're looking pretty cozy sitting there."
"I came over with Day directly after school."
Maria's eyebrows shot up. "Iiiiiiinteresting."
Martinique claimed the seat across from him. Her brows were raised as well. "I didn't know you two were friends."
Alex didn't answer, just lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. "I guess there's a lot you don't know about me then, huh?" There was a mild edge of challenge to his voice, and Martinique met his eyes sharply.
Day frowned. Maria glanced between the two of them, and then, probably smartly, changed the subject.
"Soooo how about we start on this project then? Can't wait to get this finished so I never have to think about it again."
Day pulled up his own chair and then the four of them began. They worked for about an hour and a half, snacking on cookies and drinking chilled strawberry lemonade that Day pulled out of the refrigerator. It was surprisingly laid-back, even if there was some sort of unspoken, lingering tension between Day and Alex. Alex didn't think the other two noticed at all. But Alex did, and it made his stomach hurt.
Eventually they took a break, and that's when things began to devolve.
"So by this point I'm sweating all over and I've lost both shoes, right?" Maria grinned widely and grabbed another cookie. "And Umer's mother is like, freaking out because nobody else has emerged from the woods, the jello's somehow melting, and eight of the neighbors' dogs have come over to see what's going on."
"Seriously." Martinique shook her head. "Sounds like the most chaotic party ever."
"It was," Maria agreed happily. "And it was awesome. If you ever have the chance to go to one of his gatherings, you should absolutely take the chance."
"I don't know if anyone other than you will ever be invited to his birthday partes, Maria," Alex said. "Most of his friends are from juvie."
Day shook his head in agreement. "I still don't understand how you two get along. He's really kind of…"
"A dick?" Maria raised her brows. "Oh, he definitely can be. Still, he's really funny once you get to know him."
Alex had once had a class with Umer Burkhari. The other boy had called the substitute fat and then immediately left to smoke in the bathroom.
"I'll have to take your word for it," he said.
"But enough about me," Maria leaned across the table and waved her half eaten chocolate chip cookie in his face. "What about you? Since when are you and Day so close?"
Pink flushed bright across his face, entirely against his will, and Maria's gin widened. He refused to look at Day.
"Day let me come early to look at his dog," he said as calmly as possible.
"You do like dogs," Martinique muttered. "I remember when Esther Lennon brought her labradoodle to school. You were so happy. Really brought the drug rumours down."
"Drug rumours?" Day broke in. He sounded intrigued.
"Yeah you know. That Alex was in a gang or whatever. A lot of people changed their mind after watching him nearly cry when Peanut licked his face."
"Martinique," Alex scowled, annoyance flaring. "Really?"
"They obviously weren't true or anything," Maria hurried to put in, obviously trying to cool the situation. "And nobody, like, really believes that stuff anymore."
"I've never heard these rumours." Day said.
"That's good," Alex said, forcing down his frustration. "Because as stated— they're just rumours. I missed a lot of school for health reasons, something that was also previously mentioned, and people at school just blew everything out of proportion."
"Rider, you showed up with a fractured ankle. What kind of illness is that?"
"I'm accident prone," he ground out, and now he was really glaring at the magenta haired girl. "Particularly when I'm dehydrated and in recovery."
"A fractured ankle," Martinique repeated levelly. "You're literally a black belt in karate. You expect anyone to believe you're clumsy? Try harder."
His eyes sparked in rage and he was just opening his mouth to tell Martinique a real truth, one she wouldn't like, when Day reached out and gripped his knee under the table.
The touch startled him badly, and his mouth clicked shut abruptly. His eyes darted toward the other boy. Day looked back at him, expression calm, but eyes narrowed. The hand on his knee squeezed firmly.
Alex took a deep breath and shoved his anger down under his skin, squashing it back up into that tight ball that he kept hidden under his ribcage.
"I said accident prone, not clumsy," he told Martinique, voice so neutral he could have been talking about the weather. "And I would appreciate it if we could change this subject."
"Yeah, I think we should too," Maria jumped in hurriedly. "It's getting kind of heavy in here."
Martinique looked between the three of them for a moment before her lips twisted up in a look of— what? Displeasure? If Alex didn't know any better, he would have thought it was something like regret. But people rarely felt badly for the way they treated him. Martinique was surely no exception.
"Right." Martinique said quietly, and it wasn't guilt in her voice. It couldn't be. "Right, yeah. Um. Are we finished with our work then?"
"Yeah, I think so," Day said, voice almost as neutral as Alex's. "I guess it's time for us to pack up, then."
Maria, Martinique, and Alex gathered up their school supplies, an awkward silence hovering in the room.
"I'll walk you guys out," Day said, and when Alex moved to sling his bag over his shoulder, Day's hand flashed up to land between his shoulder blades. "I'd actually like to talk to you about something really quickly before you go, Alex," he said, and Alex could only nod in response to the intensity radiating from Day's dark eyes.
He sat back down and listened as three sets of footsteps headed into the hall. His peers had some sort of hushed conversation that he couldn't quite make out, and then the front door was clicking shut and Day was padding back into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry," Alex blurted before he could stop himself.
Day raised an eyebrow and sat back down next to him. "What are you sorry for, exactly?"
"You know." He gestured vaguely, awkwardly. "What happened just now. I didn't mean for everything to get so bad so quickly."
"Ah. You know, Alex, what just happened wasn't your fault. Martinique was the one to say that stuff to you, which she shouldn't have done."
Alex snuck a glance at Day's face and quickly looked away, cheeks flushing brighter. Why did Day always have to look at him like that? So bloody intensely.
"Still," he said. "I'm sorry." There was a silence, and Alex waited— but Day just cocked his head and waited as well. "Aren't you going to ask?" Alex asked when the silence stretched too long, and he couldn't stop his shoulders from hunching. "About why people thought I was in a gang? Or why I got bronchitis and came back with a fractured ankle?"
"No." Day said simply. "You obviously don't want to talk about it. And that's okay. Alex, I want to get to know you better, and I would love it if you felt like you could confide in me, or even just wanted to. But I understand that we've just become friends, and there's probably a lot of personal stuff you don't want to share just yet. Or ever. And that's fine."
But Day didn't sound totally alright with what he was saying, and Alex flashed back to the disappointment that had burst up on Day back in his bedroom. He forced down the miserable little sound that threatened to wrench itself out of his throat. Even still, hurt as he was, Day was being such a good person. Such a good friend.
Alex really didn't deserve him.
Not yet, anyway.
"Thanks Day," he said quietly. He didn't know what else to say. Talking had never been his strong suit. Or socialization at all, really. Even before everything that had happened to him after his uncle's death, he'd just— he'd just never been good at it. Before, it had been because he'd moved too much. He didn't have a home. He didn't have parents. He was better in school than everyone else. He hadn't seen the popular cartoons. He'd prefer to hang out with his uncle, an adult, than go to his classmates' birthday parties.
And now things were still the same, but so different too. Because now other teenagers just seemed so naive. Nobody else would ever know what it was like to be held down by grown adults, choking and screaming while water poured into their lungs, panicking because nobody was coming to help them, they were going to die here, drowning— nobody else would ever have to spend hours scrubbing another man's blood from underneath their fingernails, nobody else would have been forced to murder a literal child. Alex just couldn't connect with people anymore. He felt off center, fractured inside in places other people didn't even know existed. He would never again care about having spots or failing a quiz or going to parties because there was so much more in the world, so much worse to worry about.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" He asked Day, suddenly exhausted by the whole ordeal. The entire day.
"Just…." Day looked at him helplessly, seeming to sense that something in Alex had just turned off. "I just wanted to say… I'm sorry for how things went down with Maria and Martinique. And… you can still talk to me about anything you want, whenever you want. You still have my number, just please… Don't hesitate to reach out."
Alex nodded and stood up. "Tell your mother thanks for the cookies. I'll see you in class on Monday."
Day nodded back. He looked troubled.
Alex hated that he had put that expression there.
Day walked him out of the door and the click of the latch behind him sounded final.
The tube trip back to his stop was quiet and he had the good fortune of snagging a seat near the door. He spent the first half of the trip mentally rerunning his evening with Day, examining every interaction carefully. He spent the second half of his trip going over his plan to make things up with Alil.
When he got back to his house, his guardian's car was still absent from the garage. Not too surprising, considering the date. The thought of what today was, for Alil, steeled Alex. He would apologize, and he would make it good. Sincere. Alil deserved better than Alex's manic fear and defensive rage. Alil was a dick, but Christ, Alex had acted poorly.
He unlocked the door, slung his books down next to the coat rack, and headed to the kitchen. His resolve hardened even further as he opened up the cupboards and rooted past the pasta for the pesto sauce, mind flying back to the pasta puttanesca that Alil had burned.
He'd burned it but he'd tried.
He didn't go to the grocery store when Alex asked, he stayed up too late with the TV too loud, he never cooked, he didn't clean a single thing in the house, and he constantly spoke to Alex as if he were stupid— but he'd been through a lot of heartache and pain. And Alex, no matter what Alil thought, understood that pain.
Things aren't always black and white, he reminded himself as he pulled the chicken breasts out of the sink, where he'd left them to thaw that morning. Alil was an asshole. But so was Alex. The only thing left to do was try to be better.
The sandwiches had been ready for hours, by the time a flash of headlights shone past the kitchen windows and lit up the dimmed room. It was late, nearly 10, and Alex could only be thankful that Alil had come home at all.
The front door opened, slammed shut, and then heavy footsteps were stumbling to the living room.
Alex slipped out of the kitchen and stood in the doorway. "Alil."
Alil looked up from where he'd been bent over, fumbling around the couch cushions for the remote control. His eyes were red and bloodshot, shining with a fevered haze, even in the darkness. He hadn't turned on a light. "Oh. You're still up." He sounded unhappy. Resentful.
Alex swallowed as prickles of adrenaline shot through his thighs and stomach. "Yeah. I— uh. I made dinner." He flicked on the light as an afterthought. He wanted to have this conversation as face-to-face as he could, but almost immediately regretted his actions when Alil flinched wildly and squeezed his eyes shut like he was in agony.
"That's great for you," Alil ground out and all but collapsed on one knee.
Alex's heart leapt- but Alil was just looking under the couch.
"Alil, please," he said quietly. "I just… I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"Sorry? You?" Alil shoved his hand down into the gap below the couch and nearly tumbled over, elbows knocking into the half-filled glass cereal bowl that was still sitting on the ground. His knees had narrowly missed the broken glass from the shattered cup. "Whatever.
"Alil-"
"Whatever," Alil stressed again, irritably thrusting the bowl up onto the coffee table.
"Alil, please. It- It was wrong, okay? The way I treated you yesterday, it wasn't right. I was scared and out of control, and I took it out on you and that was wrong. I'm sorry." He licked his lips. "I made dinner. Chicken caprese sandwiches. I know they're your favorite."
The hard lines of Alil's body stilled into an almost unnatural quiet. "You know they're my favorite," the man repeated. His voice was calm. Nearly pleasant. Alex's stomach dropped and the warmth of adrenaline flared further. If Alil went for the handgun the man had stowed under the couch, he'd have to act fast. "You always seem to think you know everything, don't you, Alex?"
It was the first time Alex could ever remember Alil using his first name. He swallowed dryly around the lump in his throat and clenched his fists at his sides. "Look. I'm sorry. I was vile to you. I should never have said those things about your brother—"
"DON'T!" Alil sprung to his feet. His face was bright red and his eyes were wild, but his hands were, blessedly, empty. "Just shut up! You don't know shit, you've never known shit!"
"I'm sorry—"
"Stop fucking apologizing! You're such a fucking child! You think apologies are going to fix anything? Change anything? You're so naive!"
And now the old anger flared, but he struggled to force it down. "I'm not naive."
But the man wasn't listening. "I'm the adult here! I don't need your passive-aggressive bullshit, especially not today."
"I'm trying to apologize to you especially because I know what today is."
Alil's eyes, which had been darting furiously around the room, slammed onto him with all the heaviness of a freight train. "And how the fuck do you know anything about it, anyway?" He spat furiously. "How could you ever possibly know even a single detail about what happened?"
"I do checks into all of my guardians," Alex said levelly. "I didn't mean to pry."
"Check into? The fuck does that even mean? You're a kid."
"I Googled you," Alex said, feeling tense and exhausted and ready for this conversation to be over. "And stuck your name into a background check website."
Except he'd done a little more than that. Because Malagosto had been one of the most harrowing, stressful experiences of his life. At 14, he'd been surrounded by trained murderers, most of whom were child killers, and he'd been throwing himself into the art of so many horrific disciplines. But one of the less frightening, less horrific talents he'd learned had been basic computer skills. More than basic, really, seeing as he'd been arduously training on the island for more than a month— and his coding may be a little behind the curve, but it's how you use the code that truly matters.
"That's so fucking invasive," Alil said, fists clenching. "What the hell is the matter with you?"
"What's invasive is you living in my home doing no work like a freeloader," Alex finally burst out. "You don't know anything about me but you're always going on about how I'm just some kid you're stuck with, that you don't like me or that you don't care about me!"
"I don't care about you," Alil reinforced nastily, and now Alex was clenching his fists.
"I know that," he ground out. "And that's fine. But you're not my father, Alil. And I'm not your brother."
Fury swept up across Alil's face like a wave. "You're nothing like my brother."
"No. I'm not. I'm the same age as him. I'm short like him. And I walk home alone like he used to. But we're not the same."
"Damn fucking right you're not," Alil began, furious, but Alex wasn't done.
He continued, voice raised, "I know it's been a year since today that it happened, and that things are really hard for you right now. And I know it's going to be a long time until the pain starts to fade—"
"Starts to fade? Starts to fade?" Alil laughed, and there was a hard, hysterical edge to the sound. "There you go again, acting like you know shit. You think that pain is ever going to fucking fade? Jesus fucking Christ. My baby brother was murdered. He was walking home alone because I was out drinking with my fucking stupid workmates who turned out to be fucking stupid pricks and he was murdered. And you think you have any idea what that's like?"
The look on his face was one of sheer loathing. Fear jolted in Alex's stomach, but he struggled it down because he did know. He knew so well, with such practiced ease. And that's why he also knew that much of that loathing was for Alil himself.
From what his background search had yielded, it hadn't been Alil's fault. It really hadn't. Not like how Jack's death had been Alex's. Alil always went to hang out with his workmates on Fridays. Because Alil had been in the Royal Navy and he'd liked his colleagues, and he'd always gone to the pub near the weekends, even before his mother had remarried and his half-brother— but still his brother— had been born.
And when his mother had died four years ago and he'd gained full custody of the 12 year old, he'd dropped everything to help him. He'd been a loving, supporting older brother, despite not wanting to put his job on hold to watch after a child.
It was likely why Jones had thought that Alil would be a good match for Alex. The parallels to Ian Rider were strong, and Jones had probably expected the two of them to bond over their shared experiences with traumatic deaths.
Except— well— that's not exactly how things were going.
"I know exactly what that's like," Alex said angrily. "And if you'd spent a single minute getting to know me you'd know it too!"
"I don't want to get to know you! You're spiteful and childish—"
"And you're bitter and hostile! We both have our flaws, Alil! I'm just asking if maybe we can set them aside for now and try to move on!"
But that seemed to be the wrong thing to say, because the scarlet on Alil's face turned purple. "Move on?" He snarled. "You think I can just move on from Ethan? From what happened to him?"
"That's not what I'm saying—"
"Where the fuck do you get off on saying these things to me? You've obviously not gotten over your own fucking parents—"
"Don't you bring my parents into this—"
"You wake up screaming every other fucking night—"
"And you cry in the kitchen doing simple tasks like cooking," Alex snarled back. "Don't act like you're any better—"
The bowl came hurtling through the air like a bullet and Alex immediately flinched back, arms instinctively flying up to shield his face. It hit his right forearm and shattered into pieces. The violence of the throw propelled most of the shards directly into his face, and the blunt force of the heavy object slamming into him unprepared physically spun him off kilter.
His breath rushed out of him in a shaky gasp of shocked fright and blood immediately filled his mouth.
I'm bleeding, Alex understood acutely. But he couldn't feel any pain, just the trickling of warm liquid leaking from what must be numerous cuts on his face. He found that his eyes were still squeezed close, and forced them to open— and it was then that he noticed the rapidly spreading blossom of red seeping through his long sleeved shirt.
All around him lay chunks of glass and dried Cheerios. Most of them were slick with blood— his blood, he realized— and it was this final proof of his own injuries that willed him to pull himself back into his own body.
And it was then that the pain came. Sharp and brutal, it punched into him like a tidal wave, and he swayed in place.
He clamped a hand around the stain of red on his arm and looked up at Alil. His guardian was staring back at him, eyes wide, a look of pure horror on his face. The table in front of the couch was now empty.
"Alex—" Alil began, but Alex cut him off.
"Don't." His voice was tight. Rough. It sounded like he could have been chewing on the broken glass at his feet, and his gorge rose. "Just fucking don't Alil." He stumbled out of the living room, the searing agony and blood loss already shooting dizzy spots in his vision.
"Alex!" Alil called and he ignored him, hurling the front door open.
The only thing he could think of right now was getting away.
A/N: Hello all! I meant to get this posted a little bit sooner, but this pandemic has caused some problems in life lol. I'm safe and healthy- most of my issues are surrounding school, luckily. Unfortunately, most of my professors have done the exact opposite of trying to ease our workloads? My Tues/Th professor gave us an EIGHT HOUR exam on a Friday (note this is an 80 minute class). Like whyyyy? Why would you do that? ? ? And another professor keeps forgetting to upload class? So things aren't great there! But still, I've been extraordinarily lucky in most regards. Hope everyone is safe and taking care of themselves.
Anyway, thank you Brigith! Sorry the update took so long, hopefully the next one won't lol
LoveRider, thank you! I notice that you always review and I appreciate that so so much!
Guest (#1), thank you too! Hope you liked this chapter!
Guest (#2), thank you! I'm glad you like this story!
Joanna, lol, I cackled out loud at your review, thanks for that
EGB, literally teared up reading your review :') I'm so glad you can relate to some of the stuff in this story, I'm drawing a lot on my personal experiences. Thank you so much for taking the time to write this review, it was really sweet and made me very happy. Alex and Day's relationship will progress heavily in the next few chapters!
Charlotte, that's a great idea! I'd love to do a chapter from Day's POV. Not sure if I'll do it soon, just because I don't want to mess up the flow of the story yet, but now I can't stop thinking very carefully about how I'd rewrite the chapters from Day's POV lol
Guest (#3), I love how Alex acts kind of innocent in this story, because he's really not lol, and pretty soon Day is going to realize just how much Alex has been through
Guest (#4), thanks for the review! I'll try to update quicker in the future lol
Guest (#5), thank you so much! Glad you are enjoying it!
Guest (#6), I am isolating, yes. It's not super fun lol :\
Guest (#7), update is here! Thank you for reviewing! :)
Guest (#8), thank you so much! The next chapter is here lol!
If you were logged in to review, I responded to your review in PM! I'll probably be doing that in the future so that things get a little less clogged up down here lol
Next chapter I'm so excited to write because it's Alex's total breakdown lol. Stay tuned for the tears and blood