Hey everyone, this chapter picks up exactly where the last one ended because they were originally one text.
Trigger warnings: Bullying, panic attacks, arguments, self harm, crying, obsessive compulsive behaviour, self hatred, homophobic slur.
There's a scene later in the chapter that I've marked with an X, just to warn you when it's about to start. It's kinda graphic for blood but it's not too bad. I could be blowing this out of proportion, but better safe than sorry.
Oh my God, I'm so pissed. Writing chapter seventeen and Google decides to close on me! Great! Now I'm rewriting another two thousand words! Haha! Oh my God, euthanize me.
This chapter is quite sad. Sorry.
Oh, spoiler for the book 'The picture of Dorian Gray', I use a plot line in it as a metaphor. Just skip a few lines when you see the name Dorian Gray mentioned, if you care enough about the book.
Charles was sitting directly behind them, with George and another guy Alex didn't recognise. It was clear they were in a three however, they kept nudging each other and looking at Alex.
Alexander was suddenly aware that John had his arm around him and it was painfully obvious they were on a date.
He nudged John quietly and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
"Lee, behind us. Don't look. He's seen me."
John stiffened slightly and nodded, his eyes still fixed on the screen ahead of him.
Alex tried to ignore the muttering behind him, he really did, but it was getting on his nerves.
A few minutes after he had first noticed Lee, he felt the boy behind him lean out of his seat towards Alex.
"You on a date huh?" Lee whispered, Alex could hear the smirk in his voice, he was picturing the frosty stare and high cheekbones in his mind.
Alex said nothing, he gripped John's arm tighter and watched the screen, not taking in anything that was happening in the film.
"I knew you were a freak, but I never took you as a fag, huh."
John had heard Lee say this and turned around sharply, his face angrier than Alex had ever seen it. His eyes were ablaze like molten amber and his jaw was set, sharp and defined. He looked unfairly attractive in the most dangerous way possible.
Goddamnit Alexander, this is not the time!
Lee's face lit up with surprise and cruel excitement when he realised the boy next to Alex was John.
"Oh, it's you Laurens. Really Hamilton, the son of a republican politician? That's not gonna work..."
He shook his head mockingly and Alex had to hold John's wrist to stop him from standing up.
Lee kept up his torment, delighted that Alexander was stopping John from flying at him.
"This what you were talking about earlier Hamilton, isn't it? Is it because of the money you're dating him? Typical immigrant..."
Alex let his grip on John's arm go, only wanting one thing; to punch Lee in the face.
Lee was quicker though, as soon as they were on their feet he'd reached for his drink and thrown it directly over both of them, the ice cold soda chilling them, making Alex cry out.
He could see the old couple looking incredulously at Lee, scrambling to move their shopping bags away from the liquid now running down the leather seat.
John reached back his fist and punched Lee square in the face, knocking him backwards into George and making him cry out, clutching his nose.
People in the cinema were staring at them now, turning their attention away from the movie. George and the other boy were laughing loudly at John and Alex, who were shivering and furious.
George picked up his drink and John and Alex shrank back.
"Leave, don't make me waste my drink on you two."
John pulled Alex by the arm out of their row and together they stumbled down the steps and out of the auditorium, doing their best to ignore the stares of the cinema goers as they left. They ran out in to the lobby, blinking in the bright light.
John and Alex sat down on a small sofa outside and examined their clothes. Alex guessed it must have been coke because a huge dark stain was spreading on his jacket and shirt. He could feel his hair dripping, soaked and sticky. This jacket wasn't even his.
Alex shuddered as he felt an ice cube slide down his his spine, he took of his jacket and did his best to wring the soda out if it.
John looked like he'd gotten slightly less of the soda than Alex had, but his face was furious and his curls were flat, soaked with the drink.
"You fucking told Charles Lee about this?" The bitterness in his tone surprised Alex who jumped, he'd been squeezing the coke out if his hair.
"I didn't John I-"
"So what the hell did he mean then? Jesus Christ Alex! You can't shut your mouth for once?"
Alexander let go of his hair and dropped his hands limply at his sides. He could feel his breathing quickening and his hands were trembling now, droplets of coke running down his fingers to the floor.
He put his face in his hands and tried to take deep breaths, his ears ringing. He felt like he was having a heart attack, like the whole world was being crushed inwards around him.
John wrongly interpreted his silence as a confession of guilt and he scoffed.
"You can't even keep your stupid rivalry with Lee out of our date?"
Alex wanted to cry, but he squeezed his eyes shut then looked up at John furiously.
"You have no idea, John."
John laughed but it wasn't his usual warm, confident laugh. It was mirthless and cold.
"You know, my dad said if I went out with you tonight then he didn't want me in his house any longer."
Alex shook his head, the information combined with his panic attack too much for him.
"I told him I didn't care, now everything's ruined and I'll be kicked out anyway."
Alex reached forward to take John's hand but he snatched it away, eyes blazing angrily. The colour didn't resemble amber anymore.
"Don't fucking try that on me."
Alex slumped in his seat, glaring up at John.
"You're just like everyone else in this town, filthy rich, living in a house my parents couldn't afford with all the money they ever made in their lives. This isn't my fault, I don't see why you're so determined to blame me."
Alex felt the words burn his tongue but he kept his glare steady, fists clenched.
"Oh yeah? Your father walked out didn't he? Not like he ever made an honest days work." His tone was mocking and Alex could tell he had a lump in his throat.
Alex recoiled as if he'd been stung and glared at John.
"You don't know anything about my parents."
John shook his head, "why don't you just panic or something. It's all you ever seem to do anyway."
With that he grabbed his bag and walked out of the lobby, the automatic doors opening as he disappeared into the darkness.
Alex put his head in his hands and did exactly what John had told him to. He panicked. His breathing became shallow and fast, occasionally hitching irregularly and making him gasp in pain. He could feel his shoulders trembling and white light was burning his eyelids, flashing and dancing blindingly in front of him.
The doors of the cinema opened and people poured out, looking at Alex as they passed with varying degrees of disgust and concern on their faces, taking in his gasping, dry sobs and soaking wet, bedraggled appearance.
Alex barely even looked up when Charles, George and the other boy passed. He could hear them laughing amongst themselves and feel their eyes upon him.
When he looked up to watch them walk through the lobby he caught George's eye, who'd turned around to look at him. Alex didn't have amazing eyesight and he wasn't too focused due to the current panic attack he was experiencing, but he could have sworn he saw something like regret or at least pity in George's face.
Alex stood up just over twenty five minutes later. It was one of he longest panic attacks he'd ever experienced and he felt weak and drained. He was seriously concerned whether or not he'd be able to make it home without passing out.
He walked over towards the door and passed a teenager in cinema uniform, sweeping up discarded popcorn.
When he passed her, she took in his appearance. Red rimmed eyes, soaking clothes, trembling shoulders. She reached behind the counter of the ticket box and pulled out an unopened bottle of water, passing it to him with a sympathetic look on her face.
He took it silently and nodded his head in thanks to the girl.
"What's your name?" She asked, stopping her sweeping.
"Alexander Hamilton."
She smiled slightly. "Maria Reynolds."
His eyes widened. He recognised the name.
She was extremely pretty, he noticed. Her skin was a terracotta tan colour and her lips were full and painted a coral red. She had long and curly black hair, tied in a pony tail that was threaded through the hole in an Adidas cap. So this was Eliza's girlfriend.
She reached to the candy section of the food and threw him a Hershey's bar. He caught it, fumbling a second and nodded his thanks to the girle bfore walking out of the lobby into the night time.
The streets were dark and empty, Alex knew it was probably around eight thirty and that he was late, he didn't care.
He kind of knew his way around the town so started in the direction of the school, assuming he could walk home from there.
He had been walking about fifteen minutes and had just reached the school when a large black car pulled up next to him, he kept his head down and continued walking, terrified and remembering the self defensive classes Katherine had made him take.
"Alex?"
He turned around and looked at the car, confused. Eliza was sitting in the passenger's seat, the window rolled down with a concerned look on her face.
"Eliza." He said. It wasn't a question, just a statement of truth. He didn't have the energy to say anything else.
"You look like you need a ride."
Alex sighed and nodded, too tired for politeness and honestly fearful he would pass out if he didn't sit down soon.
The side door of the car opened and Alex stepped in. Driving was a tall looking girl with curly dark hair pulled into a ponytail and a pink hoodie. Eliza was in the passenger seat and next to him in the back sat a young looking teenager with wild, unruly curls and a yellow sun dress.
"Are you okay Alex? You don't look too good..."
Eliza stared as the car pulled away.
"I'm 'kay." He said quietly, gesturing to the left to direct the girl driving towards his house.
He knew he was probably coming across extremely rudely but he didn't have the energy for small talk.
The girl sitting next to him looked at him anxiously and stuck out a small hand.
"Peggy Schuyler, freshman."
Her voice was smooth and cheery, matching well with the beautiful yellow colour she wore.
"Alexander Hamilton."
The girl driving turned around for a moment to look at him, she didn't reach out for his hand.
"Angelica Schuyler."
The car was silent for a while, Alex could hear his heavy breathing, a souvenir from the panic attack he was still feeling unwelcome remnants of.
"You're not hurt are you?"
Eliza had twisted around in her seat and was eyeing his appearance with apprehension. He shook his head silently, closing his eyes and leaning back into his seat.
"What happened?"
Alex shrugged. Honesty couldn't hurt him now.
"I had a coke thrown at me, freaked out and then argued with my date. He walked out on me."
Alex felt his voice break towards the end if his sentence, tears threatened to spill down his cheeks so he looked at the ceiling of the car and blinked a few times.
Eliza winced and searched through the glove compartment. She pulled out a pack of wipes and handed them to him.
"For the coke. It's kinda on your face."
He pulled out a wipe and aggressively scrubbed his skin. Maybe if he rubbed hard enough he would bleed.
Peggy was rummaging around under her seat, she pulled out a blanket and offered it to him.
"You look cold."
He didn't want to ruin the blanket by getting coke all over it so he shook his head.
"It's okay. We're not far from my house."
They drove in silence for a while, houses and fields rushing by them in a blurred of inky noir and headlamp white
He nodded at Angelica and reached out to indicate a final right turn that took him onto the Washingtons' road. Angelina looked at him strangely as he signalled at her to slow down in front of the Washingtons' house.
"This is George Washington's house..." she said suspiciously, intelligent eyes boaring into his.
"I'm his foster son."
She looked slightly embarrassed and mouthed an 'oh' silently. He nodded and opened the car door, stepping out into the street.
"Thanks Eliza, Peggy, Angelica." He said, not bothering to force a smile. Eliza ran her eyes up and down him in concern and pulled him into a quick hug. He held his breath and closed his eyes, patting her gently on the back.
"See you at school Alex."
"Yeah."
She waved goodbye as Angelica stepped on the accelerator, the car moving away from him quickly, soon disappearing into the dark.
He pulled his bag tighter around his shoulders and walked up the drive to the door, cursing when he realised he didn't have keys.
He gulped and tried in vain to make himself look more presentable. Obviously, this was futile. He was covered in coke for God's sake.
The door was opened quickly and Alex cringed when he saw George standing there. He'd hoped Lafayette would answer.
George had been smiling when he greeted Alex, dressed in a plain white tee shirt and sweatpants with a mug of tea in his hands.
When he took in Alex's appearance more closely however, his smile dropped at once and he gently pulled Alex inside.
He could hear Martha in the kitchen singing, her voice cheery and light. Alex knew she would freak out when she saw him. He would be the one to ruin her evening.
Suddenly he didn't want to go into the kitchen, he didn't want to explain what had happened. To be fussed over and given tea and pity. Everyone treating him like he was delicate and broken. George and Martha couldn't make him do anything he didn't want to, or at least not without a fight. Even if he doubted he'd be able to defend himself against George's terrifying frame.
Alex pulled his arm out of George's grip and felt his face screw up with tears.
Great. You hold off the crying when you're alone and no one can see you, but as soon as you're right in front of George...
"Alex.. what's wrong?"
He turned around to the stairs and let out a strangled sort of sob, all the emotion he had been feeling since the cinema pouring down his face as tears.
He wiped them off his face roughly, catching his eye painfully with a metal button on his jacket. He didn't care. Alex ran up the stairs before he could embarrass himself further and stumbled into his room, dropping his bag carelessly.
He could hear George yelling his name from downstairs but he did nothing. He slammed his door shut and slid the lock in place.
He needed something sharp. Anything.
George and Martha were in the kitchen, the drawer of cutlery carefully watched and Lafayette had borrowed his scissors...
Alex reached for his bag and opened the zip with trembling fingers. He rummaged around frantically for his pencil case, not caring that he was crushing books and papers in his haste.
X
He finally found it and ripped it open, spilling pens and pencils all over his bedroom floor. Alex desperately searched for what he was looking for in the mess and finally found it. His compass.
The point on the end was sharp, unusually so and he'd cut himself accidentally on it many times. He threw his jacket off and flung it onto his bed, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt quickly.
With this, he couldn't be neat. The cuts were jagged and deep. Deeper than any he'd made before. They weren't so much cut, rather ripped into his flesh.
God, it hurt. It really, really hurt. He threw back his head in pain and hissed, choking back a strangled sob and feeling the blood run down his forearm. He was thankful then that the cuts weren't on the inside of his wrist, he wasn't sure it wouldn't have nicked an artery if they had been.
He didn't know if he could get away with just leaving this one alone to heal.
X
He got up on shaky legs and stumbled to the bathroom, turning on the tap and running it over his arm. He hastily grabbed some toilet paper and held it tightly down on his injury, wincing again.
He already regretted it. In fact, part of him had regretted it before he'd even done it.
He grabbed more tissue paper and wound it round his arm tightly, hoping to stem the blood flow until he could sneak down to find bandages that night.
He pulled off his ruined clothes, which was all of them, and put on a fresh shirt, pyjama bottoms and his hoodie.
He stiffened when he heard footsteps on the landing and a familiar French accent at his door.
"Alex? Are you okay?"
He glanced around the room and grabbed the compass, shoving it into his top drawer.
"Yeah, hold on." He called, trying to make his voice sound steady.
Alex slid the lock free after wiping his face free of any tears and opened the door.
Lafayette was stood on the landing in his pyjamas, his phone in one hand and a glass of water in the other.
"Alex, George said you were crying." His face was twisted in concern.
Alex shrugged, he couldn't deny it.
"Why is your hair wet? You just got in."
Alex cursed, he'd forgotten about the stupid coke.
"It's... I should probably tell you, it's all over your jacket, it's coke."
Lafayette looked confused.
"How did you get coke all over yourself?"
Alex took a deep breath, not sure what to say. If Lafayette talked to John about it, he'd probably tell him the truth, but if Alex told Lafayette the truth, everything else could come out. He decided to take the more moral option.
"Lee was there, he threw his coke on me and John."
Lafayette sighed and shook his head.
"Don't show him a reaction, it's what he wants to see. One day you'll rise up above him. In fact, you already have. You should shower, it's okay about the jacket. I'll see if I can get it laundered if the coke doesn't come out."
Alex nodded numbly and grabbed the jacket off his bed, handing it to his foster brother. He would offer to pay the laundry fee but any money he had was from his foster parents, who would have to pay for the jacket to be washed anyway. There was no point.
"Are you okay? Why were you crying?"
Alex shook his head.
"I don't want to talk about it."
Lafayette sighed again and pulled Alex into a hug, not noticing when he screwed his face up in pain as his arm was trapped between them.
"Just don't do anything... irréfléchi, okay?"
rash
Alex knew what he meant, it was too late for that now though, he'd disappointed Lafayette already.
"Okay."
Lafayette handed him the glass of water and watched Alex drink it down gratefully. His mouth was dry from anxiety and crying.
Laf took back the empty glass and smiled, walking back downstairs with the jacket over his arm.
George sat in the kitchen, stirring his already well made tea nervously. He looked up as Lafayette walked in, the glass empty and a jacket over his arm.
"Is he okay Gil? Did he say what happened?"
Lafayette let out an exasperated groan and sat down at the kitchen table.
"Charles Lee dumped coke over him, this jacket and his clothes are pretty ruined."
George rubbed his face in exhaustion and stood up, pacing up and down the kitchen.
"Did you text John? Do you know why Alex was crying?"
Lafayette nodded, "I texted him but he isn't responding. C'est assez strange. Alex said he didn't want to talk about it."
"Was he hurt? Do you know if he... hurt himself?"
Lafayette shook his head.
"He's a mess, mais, I don't think he's physically hurt. I don't know about... that last thing."
Martha looked pale and her posture was tense.
"Do you think he and John had an argument?"
Lafayette shrugged, a frown on his face.
"I don't think so, they like each other a lot."
He trailed off slightly, realising George and Martha didn't know it had been a date, although, he supposed it had been obvious. Neither of them however, batted an eyelid.
"Do you think Alex is in any state to go in to school tomorrow?" Asked Martha, wringing her hands.
"Je ne sais pas, maybe just don't wake him tomorrow. If he awakes and wants to go à l'école he should, if he doesn't then he needs the rest."
George frowned at this, not one hundred percent sure he wanted Alex to miss any more school. Then again, the boy's health came first.
"Okay, that sounds reasonable. Gilbert, you should go to bed. It's past nine."
Lafayette rolled his eyes and stood up, moving towards the kitchen door.
"Leave the jacket here honey, let me see if I can get it clean." Said Martha, taking the jacket from her son's arm. He smiled and kissed her on the cheek, pulling George into a one armed hug before walking back upstairs.
Alex lay on his bed, sobbing into his pillow. Now that he was alone he had given up any pretence of being okay. The thick fabric was muffling any noise he made but he was still conscious enough to attempt to be quiet.
He felt disgusted with himself. It was his fault the date had been ruined. Lee hated him not John, if John had wisely chosen to take someone else to the cinema, someone cooler and better looking than Alex, none of this would have happened.
And what had John said to him? His father had walked out, that he never made an honest day's work. That Alex should just panic, because that was all he ever did anyway.
Alex thought of the look of fury on John's face, the whispered taunts of Charles Lee. He was a fag, freak, immigrant, burden...
He didn't deserve John. Part if him was still furious for what he'd said to him, but a larger part knew it was true, that he deserved it.
Jesus Christ, John could get kicked out of his home because of him.
Alex rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, thinking of the sketch John had done earlier.
He remembered internally comparing it to a Dorian Gray-esque piece. That was ironic, considering the fact that one of the lovers in that novel ended up killing the other. The one that had dome the painting.
Alex hadn't killed John, but he'd killed everything they'd had. He was stupid, foolish, naïve to think John would ever be happy with him. He was nothing. John was everything, John deserved a boy who was confident and happy and good looking and wild, like him. Not Alex.
These thoughts swarmed his head for hours like insects, burrowing their way into a rotting corpse. He could feel their buzzing wings and the sharp sting of each one as it nestled into his head.
He didn't know how long he lay there, crying silently into his pillow.
Eventually, he rememberd that he needed to shower. Alexander hoped there was still some hot water left, Lafayette had an annoying habit of taking twenty minute long, hot showers every day.
He pulled off his clothes and examined his hair in the mirror, trying not to look too closely at his face. Red, puffy eyes and blotchy skin, purple bruises around his throat.
Alex stepped into the shower and turned the water up as hot as it would go, which was scalding and near boiling.
The steam choked him, thick and swirling around the shower room. He couldn't even see his hand stretched out in front of him. The water burned him, stinging the cut on his wrist like he was showering in alcohol. He knew he'd be red raw by the time he got out, but the way Alexander saw it, the dead could only feel cold, so maybe, just maybe if he burned...
He picked up a sponge lying at the bottom of the shower and proceeded to scrub his skin harshly, desperate to remove any traces of what had happened that day. The coke, the fear, the anger, the guilt.
The sponge was rough and harsh, removing the first few layers of his skin quickly.
Soon sensitive parts of his ankles and elbows were bleeding, pin pricks of blood dotting incarnadine skin. He didn't stop however, cleaning furiously until the water ran freezing cold. He dropped the sponge as if coming out of a trance and turned off the water.
He pulled his clothes back on, wincing at the friction against his raw skin.
From the darkness outside his room, he presumed all the lights in the house were turned off and that everyone was asleep. A faint snoring was coming from Lafayette's room. He could go to the kitchen now, get some bandages. He just had to be quiet.
He unlocked his bedroom door quietly and padded down the stairs with the smooth silence of a cat. The kitchen door was open. This was good, he wouldn't have to creak it open loudly, alerting everyone in the house.
He stumbled to the cabinet where he knew bandages were kept and pulled up his sleeve. The tissue he'd wrapped around his arm was bright red, wet and disintegrating with blood. His hoodie had even been stained on the inside.
He pulled the tissue he'd wrapped his arm with after the shower away. He threw it in the bin and grabbed a roll of bandages and sudocrem from the cupboard above the sink.
He gently cleaned the cut with some cotton swabs and dabbed on the antiseptic cream before wrapping the cut carefully in bandages. He hoped this would be enough to stem the blood flow and prevent any infection. Dear God, he hoped it would be enough.
He dumped the empty box of bandages and bloody cotton swabs in the bin before drinking a glass of water and walking back upstairs.
Alex collapsed into his bed and flicked off his bedside lamp. It was disconcerting to him how much he'd cried today, considering the fact he almost never did. Apparently he wasn't quite finished yet however, as when he buried his face into his pillow, sobs choked him again, soaking the pillow with his tears.
He pressed his palms to his eyelids and took long, deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. His breath hitched in his throat a few times and he could hear his heart pounding in his chest. Eventually, the gasping sobs turned into silent tears leaking salty and warm across his nose and onto the bed.
He couldn't shake thoughts of John out of his mind. His memories going back to Pace, to all the times Lee and George had beaten him up, to the Johnsons and the Harveys. Surely there was a reason why every thing that had happened to him had transpired. Surely it was because he deserved it? He didn't think good people got kicked instead of kissed. He didn't think he was one of those good people.
He slept fitfully that night, dreaming of vauge yet menacing voices in his head whispering sinister threats and cruel truths. The pillow was damp with tears by the time he had fallen asleep.
yikes. I'm sorry dudes. Don't be too mad at John yet, let his side of the story be told.
