Hello, sorry for the wait. People have been telling me to take a break, and I'm gonna do a Hamilton and say nah. I'm alright. I'm making headway on chapter two of that historical fanfiction I'm writing and just trying to manage shit.
Ugh, I'm too tired to respond to reviews. Thanks for spamming 'update', I guess. Thanks to everyone who gives feedback, it's so, so appreciated. Someone said I made them cry, I guess that's funny. I'll message with if you've reviewed on an account, d'accord.
A guest called CoD gave this hella long review that I half responded to already in the comments, I wanna thank them and just use the excuse of artistic licence, even though I know that's bullshit. (:
Yeah, I'm tired, sorry.
Trigger warnings: mentions of bullying, mention of abuse, mention of self harm, hospitals, needles/ injections, mentions/ subject of suicide, subject of antisemitism, mentions of death of parents.
Full disclaimer, I don't speak Spanish.
Silver light tumbled through a gap in the curtains and onto the foot of Lafayette's bed, it's brightness just far-reaching enough to tip him into consciousness. He opened his eyes stutteringly and rubbed some sleep from where it had collected.
There was a noise outside in the corridor then, soft and almost quiet enough for Lafayette to drowsily dismiss. He could not, however, not after what had happened last week.
The French teenager started, his whole body stiffening and going ridged where he lay. Slowly, cautiously, like a cat moving towards an unsuspecting bird, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
Lafayette pushed his feet into a pair of slippers and padded softly across the wooden floor of his bedroom, feeling his heartbeat accelerate faster and faster until he had almost tricked himself into believing he could actually hear its steady thumping.
He pushed open the handle of his bedroom door, for whatever reason he could feel his stomach doing somersaults, churning unpleasantly like he was moving too fast up an elevator.
He blinked as the bright light streaming onto the landing meeting his tired eyes and making momentarily shut them, stumbling to lean against the door jamb in disorientation.
Then, he opened his eyes and scanned the landing, feeling his fists clench and his throat tighten nervously as he did so.
Alexander sat by the door to Martha and George's bedroom, his tail swaying eagerly. He licked his paw and miaowed plaintively at Lafayette, padding over and brushing against his ankles.
Lafayette heaved a sigh and dragged a hand over his face, watching the cat with an expression of weary relief.
He honestly didn't know what he had expected to find, though relieved none the less that the cat was the source of the noise he'd heard.
Of course, Alexander would not be at home. He was most likely asleep then, in hospital, yet Lafayette had been reminded so accurately, so sharply, of the events of four days ago, that he had not been able to suppress his fear. He felt quite as though he was going a little insane.
"Tu m'as reveillé, gros bêta."
You woke me up, stupid.
He reached down and scooped the cat up, hoisting its small body gently into his arms and carrying it downstairs to the kitchen.
Growing up in France, he'd only ever had small little pets like fish and things. His mother had kept a canary for a few years, which had been nice.
It used to sing at the same exact time every morning. His father used to say that if there was ever a carbon monoxide leak, they'd do just fine.
If only canaries could detect inevitable car accidents.
Lafayette almost laughed aloud then, revelling in the sheer absurdity of this thought.
As soon as the mirth had come, however, it died and he was left clutching the cat in his arms, tighter than he would have liked with a horrible feeling of hollowness in his stomach.
He thought about his parents often, every day even.
Little things reminded him them. Like that coffee shop he frequented with his friends, certain smells like that of le savon de Marseille or a quiche à l'oignon; the Kosher version of the quiche à Lorraine his classmates would eat.
He didn't eat Kosher anymore, the habit hadn't exactly become ingrained before he'd moved to America and he hadn't really understood much about his religion when he was a child.
He had just eaten what his parents had given him, gone to the Synagogue on Shabbat and learnt to recognise the odd Hebrew phrase the Rabbi would use during services. Sure, he'd had to read the entire book of Exodus and could probably recount a fair bit of it from memory, but he had never really been old enough to actually understand the religion in a deeper way.
This reminded him, Hanukkah was approaching fast. He remembered checking the dates recently, this year it would sometime mid-December, he thought the twelfth or thirteenth.
He didn't generally enjoy Hanukkah nowadays, though. It was just a period of time where loads of old memories were dragged up from his old life.
Some were good ones, yes, like meeting up with family, eating latkes and getting chocolate coins. But there were bad ones too.
Alt-right groups in France seemed to think religious holidays were the best possible times to take to the streets screaming Mort au juifs or to spray the city with swastikas.
Both good and bad memories hurt, because the good ones, he knew, were over. Finished. The bad ones, though, weren't. Paris was still the same, being Jewish there was still the same.
He dismissed these thoughts as best he could and set about finding something for Alexander to eat.
Martha had been grocery shopping the other day, so he figured she'd remembered to buy some cat food. Thankfully, when he opened the cupboard under the oven he wasn't disappointed. A pack of small tins was stashed there, some of tuna or fish, some of meat.
He fed the cat from a bowl he'd pulled from the cupboard and set about making his own breakfast.
The Keurig gurgled noisily and he set a mug down before it, yawning as he slid some bread into the toaster. He cursed as the mug overflowed a little, too small to fit in all the machine had poured. He sipped at the excess, wincing as it burned his tongue, and sat down at the kitchen table with his food.
He scrolled through his iPhone for a while, refreshing his Instagram feed to see what his friends had posted. Apparently, some teacher had said something funny during a maths class the other day, there were videos of it on loads of his friends' accounts, but he couldn't care less.
The news was the usual too; Trump refusing to comment on neo-nazis, more information he didn't want to hear about the Las Vegas shooter, British politics he couldn't be bothered to keep up to date on what with everything happening in America and at home at the moment.
He opened Hercules' contact instead, texting his friend quickly about the plan to visit Alexander at the hospital that day.
Lafrançaise (just now): We will visit Alex at the hospital today, is that good?
He responded almost instantly, giving Lafayette the distinct impression that, like him, he was sitting around with little to do.
Hercules-Mulligan (just now): Sure. John coming? I would ask but he's asleep.
Lafrançaise (just now): He said yes. We wanted to see Alex properly.
Lafayette winced very slightly at this, feeling as though his English was making very little sense. Sure enough, his friend responded with confusion.
Hercules-Mulligan (just now): ?
Lafrançaise (just now): It is hard to explain, yesterday was very awkward. We could not discuss properly what had happened.
Hercules-Mulligan (just now): ah, okay. What time is good? 9? 10?
Lafrançaise (just now): It is seven forty now. nine sounds okay. I will meet you & John there?
Hercules-Mulligan (just now): sounds cool. You okay btw? Yesterday was hard.
Lafayette bit his lip. He had no desire to lie to his friend and knew telling the truth would cast him no lower in Hercules' estimates, but his friend had a very motherly personality about him. He didn't want to worry him.
Lafrançaise (just now): I'm alright.
Hercules-Mulligan (just now): In the nicest way possible, I don't really believe you tbh.
Lafayette sighed and coughed a few times, yawning and taking a sip of coffee from his mug. Hercules, despite Lafayette's annoyance with him at the time, had been right. He did have a cold coming on.
He scowled ever so slightly down at his phone screen, vaguely annoyed at his friend. He was fine, he wasn't the one in hospital, he hadn't tried to kill himself. Everyone should just stop asking him about how he felt, or whether he was okay. He was fine.
Lafrançaise (just now): Herc, I'm fine. Leave it, okay.
Hercules-Mulligan (just now): Okay. Ttyl.
Lafrançaise (just now): sure.
He turned off his phone and groaned into his hands, feeling the sudden urge to pick up and smash his glass against the hard kitchen tiles. He resorted instead to angrily slamming his fist on the table, allowing water to slosh messily over the side of his glass.
There was movement in the corridor and Lafayette looked up to see George turn into the hallway, already dressed and shaved, looking far more awake than Lafayette felt.
"Are you alright? I heard something..."
He trailed off, stepping into the kitchen and smiling faintly at his son.
"Bien. Fine."
Lafayette responded slightly curtly, though making his tone just neutral enough so that he didn't exactly sound rude. The result was clear passive aggression that Lafayette couldn't even be bothered to try and correct.
George raised an eyebrow slightly and sat down next to him, watching Alexander finish his salmon in silence.
"So... This is Alexander, ey?"
Lafayette nodded, watching the cat's small head push the dish around the floor in his eagerness to eat.
"I can see why you named him what you did. Though it might get a little confusing."
Lafayette shrugged and mopped some of the spilt water up with the sleeve of his shirt.
"Maybe."
George grinned slightly, evidently trying to lighten up the conversation a little. It seemed rather forced to Lafayette, who had no desire at that moment to make jokes.
"Maybe we should nickname him Lex or something."
Lafayette shrugged again and George stood up, moving to the kettle to make two mugs of tea.
"You're quiet today," he noted, pouring some water into a mug while Lafayette scratched Alexander gently behind the ears.
"And you're observant aujourd'hui."
And you're observant today.
He knew he was coming across as rude, but found he didn't really care.
George said nothing, though Lafayette was sure he heard the man sigh ever so slightly. He picked up both mugs and smiled at Gilbert again.
"I'm bringing this up to Martha, we'll be down for breakfast later. Have you eaten?"
Lafayette nodded again, not looking at George and instead kneeling down to rub the cat's belly where he'd sprawled out on the kitchen tiles.
George watched Lafayette for a moment, his face turned away from the doorway and looking out over the garden instead.
He turned then, walking back down the hallway and up the stairs towards his and Martha's room.
George carried the mugs carefully over the landing, making sure his hands were steady and using his shoulder to push open the bedroom door. He smiled at Martha, who was sat up in bed reading the news on her iPad.
He handed her the tea and sat back down next to her, glancing at the article she was reading with interest. She took the tea carefully and smiled warmly at him. It was possibly the most authentic looking smile she'd given him since everything with Alexander had happened.
"Is Gil up?"
George nodded and shifted on the bed uncomfortably.
"He is, he's acting a little standoffish though. I'm worried about him."
Martha put her tablet to the side and shifted a little closer across the mess of sheets and blankets on which they sat.
"I am too. He's not doing well. Half the time he's speaking French."
George nodded, wrapping his hands further around his mug. It was cold and the tea radiated a comforting warmth.
Martha pushed some hair behind her ear. She looked older then, with no makeup on, frowning and tired looking. Both of them were only just forty, but it did sometimes feel like they been alive decades longer; especially since the events of Saturday night.
"He and Alex got really close. John the same," sighed George.
Martha smiled into her tea at this and nodded.
"John and Alexander seem to like each other a lot."
George chuckled and took another sip of his tea, watching the steam from Martha's cup rise and dissipate softly.
"Who's visiting Alex today then? Do you want to let the kids go, and we can drop in later?"
Martha nodded at this and examined a chip in her nail polish, tilting the shiny surface into the light.
"When I talked to Alexander's brother, said he could FaceTime today or tomorrow with Alexander."
George nodded his assent and then, feeling a sudden surge of sentimentality strike him, he shifted closer to Martha and put an arm gently around her shoulder.
He could sense, rather than see her smile and she leant into him, placing her mug on the bedside table.
"I'm glad we're not waiting any longer for this."
George nodded, feeling the softness of Martha's hair tickle his jaw as she spoke.
"It's only been three months but... I don't think we can put it off any longer."
Martha nodded and watched the watercolour washed sky. It looked like wet paint, smooth and silky.
"When will we tell him?"
George shrugged and felt Martha's arm moving as she pulled and twisted at her bracelet; a habit she'd fallen back into recently.
"When things have calmed down a little. Any extra stress now won't be good for anyone."
Martha turned her head and kissed George lightly on his cheek, where it was freshly smooth from his morning shave.
"Shall I make some breakfast? Gil's eaten already."
George kissed Martha on the cheek in return and shrugged.
"I can make something if you want more time in bed."
Martha smiled and stood up, stretching and stepping lightly towards their chest of drawers and taking out some slacks.
"It's alright, I'll make something today. You can cook dinner tonight."
She smiled at him over her shoulder and began to change, the light catching her hair and skin so they looked almost coppery.
George walked downstairs and into the kitchen again, setting his empty mug into the sink and running the tap. Alexander brushed against his ankles and nuzzled his head against his leg, purring.
George looked down at the cat for a moment, watching him but not moving to stroke or pet him. Cats, he thought, tended to show affection to anyone that fed them.
He wouldn't say it to Lafayette or Martha, but he thought there was a good chance Alexander would find another family with food he liked the taste of better and would stay there.
Lafayette was still sat at the kitchen table, scrolling through his phone.
"Are you seeing Alexander today?"
He nodded, looking up only briefly before returning to his scrolling.
"Need a lift?"
His finger paused and he nodded again.
"Oui, thanks."
George turned back to the sink then, picking up a cloth and wiping clean a plate, wondering about Lafayette, about Martha, about James, and most of all; Alex.
Lafayette saw John and Hercules before they did him. They both sat on the wall of the hospital car park, waiting. John was kicking up dust with the tip of his shoes while Hercules sat almost still, pulling apart a dried leaf absently.
Lafayette watched them as the car slowed down at the entrance to the lot.
"Call me when John and Hercules leave, okay. Martha and I will come round."
Lafayette nodded, his eyes still fixed on his two friends a few yards away.
"Tell Alex we'll be along later, do you want money for something at the café there or anything?"
Lafayette shook his head, reaching to unbuckle his seatbelt and pushing some hair out of his face.
"How much credit is left on your phone? Do you still have some data?"
Lafayette turned to face George then, for the first time since they'd got in the car. His face was set angrily and he looked as though he was biting back sharp words just on the tip of his tongue.
"I'm fine, papa. Leave it."
George said nothing as the French teenager opened the car door and stepped out onto the asphalt, raising his hand in greeting to John and Hercules.
"I'll..." He turned back slightly, head tipping just a few degrees over his shoulder to watch George, biting his lip sheepishly, "I'll see you soon, papa."
George smiled, nodding and pulling at the clutch, rolling the window back up as he did so.
"See you soon."
Lafayette walked over to where John and Hercules stood, wrapping each in a one-armed hug and shooting Hercules an apologetic glance. He'd been quite short with him over text earlier.
Hercules smiled back warmly and as they walked towards the entrance to the hospital, placed a hand on the small of Lafayette's back, stepping even closer to him than before and shooting him another smile. The French teenager smirked slightly to himself and looked away, watching John as he walked a few paces ahead of them.
The waiting room was quiet and grey, as usual, the fluorescent lights humming monotonously and the ceiling fans spinning in a lazy, sluggish manner.
They signed their names down in the visitors' book hastily, Lafayette tapping his foot impatiently where he stood, his fingers hooked in his belt loops.
This time, they were able to find Alexander's room by themselves, acutely recalling the route from their visit just yesterday.
Alexander was sat up in bed when they enter the room. The blinds were pulled open and his room appeared to have been tidied somewhat, the items arranged on his bedside table stacked neatly in piles.
Lafayette was reminded sharply if how Alexander had ordered his room before he'd taken those pills, though quickly halted that train of thought, shaking it away like he would a cloud of midges.
A breakfast tray sat in front of him bearing a plastic plate of what looked like bacon and eggs, a mug of something or other and a bowl of fruit.
The fruit looked half finished, but the bacon and eggs barely touched. Knowing Alexander, he'd probably spent a good twenty minutes pushing the food absently around his plate rather than actually eating it.
He looked up as they entered, closing the book he'd had open in front of him and setting it aside. It was an AP politics textbook.
He looked pretty much the same as he had when they'd last seen him, pale and sickly with dark under eye circles and dry lips. Though he wasn't wincing away from lights or writhing in pain so Lafayette supposed, this state was an improvement.
"Salut!"
Lafayette raised his hand in greeting and practically bounced the few steps over to Alexander's bedside, his demeanour suddenly dramatically different to the rather reserved one he'd recently been sporting.
"Hey, guys."
Alexander smiled slightly and used their arrival as an excuse to push the tray of food slowly away from himself, sitting up a little straighter and turning to face them.
Lafayette leant down and hugged him as best he could in their awkward position, wrapping one gentle arm around him and pulling him close.
John stepped forward a few paces and smiled somewhat awkwardly, doing the same. He held the embrace for a little longer, however, not wanting to release himself from Alexander's warmth or the way his hair smelt too soon. He'd missed this.
Hercules was next. He hugged him quickly, like Lafayette, and stepped back, grinning.
"Your head okay? Looked pretty bad last night," queried Hercules, sitting down and pushing himself closer towards Alexander.
The teenager nodded once, shrugging dismissively.
"I'm alright," he waved his hand at the several machines beeping and working next to him, "They put me out for a few hours."
Lafayette and John sat down on the hard-backed chairs in turn and made themselves comfortable as they could. The hospital, as hospitals generally were, was warm and Lafayette found himself itching to pull off his sweater.
"Maman et Papa are coming around later. Because there cannot be more than three visitors."
Alex nodded again and John watched him play with the pages of a textbook, thumbing his fingers over a wedge of pages.
"Maman a dit- Maman said she called James."
Alexander's head shot up at this, with an almost bird-like, jerky and instantaneous motion. He looked around at them frantically, almost as though he expected James to be there in the room with them.
"When? When did she call him?"
Lafayette sighed and rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully. When he spoke, Alexander seemed to be hanging onto his every word, his mouth ever so slightly open.
"The same day it happened. Sunday."
Alexander groaned softly and put his face in his hands, some dark hair falling to obscure him from their view. John shot Lafayette a quizzical glance, the French boy shrugging in return and placing a tentative hand on Alex's hospital gown-clad shoulder.
"Well... Je pense... Il n'est peut être pas le bon moment, mais ... He was going to FaceTime today."
I think... this might not be the best moment, but...
Alexander was silent for a moment, watching Lafayette with an alarmed, disbelieving expression.
"I haven't talked to him in over two years."
Lafayette stopped fidgeting with the string on his hoodie, his eyes widening and his hand holding on to Alexander's shoulder a little tighter.
"Over two years?"
Alexander rushed to clarify, his face heating slightly, clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable with the sudden silence. He tapped his fingers restlessly against the metal frame of his bed and Lafayette could see he was biting the inside of his cheek.
"I- I mean, we've emailed and he sends me postcards sometimes."
He looked down at the hospital band around his wrist and played with it awkwardly, almost sullenly. He sighed.
John wished then they were sat at home on Lafayette's couch so that he could pull himself closer to Alexander, he wished they were lying out in the park or in any position possible in which he could comfort him. But of course, the situation did not allow for that sort of display of affection.
"I mean... You should probably talk to him... He'll be worrying."
Alexander sighed again and let go of his wristband, moving instead to play with the cannula at his nose. John wondered when he'd cease needing it.
"He only emailed last time," Alexander muttered, still fiddling, "we've never facetimed or anything..."
John's fingers paused in their direction towards his hair, the strand and he'd been about to push back hung distractingly in his face. He didn't care; he felt as though the blood within his veins had just frozen.
"Last time?"
Lafayette sat up a little straighter and John swore he saw his hand twitch infinitesimally in the direction of where Hercules' own hand lay, on the arm of the chair.
Alexander's face paled drastically and the vague beeping John had been able to previously ignore accelerated slightly in speed.
"I- I..."
He trailed off, looking hopelessly around as if for an escape route. If they were in another situation, or if this conversation had happened before now, Alexander would have most likely just said that he was tired and retreated to his room.
Now, however, he had no excuse. John would have pitied him, the teen must have felt awful, but he was far too focused on finding out exactly what the Alex meant.
"Have you... attempted before now?"
Hercules seemed to be the only one with a working voice at that moment and leant forward slightly, his hand also subtly moving closer to Lafayette's.
Alex closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath, nodding his head so slightly the action might have been missed if all three of the teenagers weren't watching him so intently.
"When I was like thirteen or so. Boys' home, when I first came here. It was so long ago now, it doesn't even matter."
John frowned and opened his mouth, about to say something, but Lafayette beat him to it.
"What!" He threw his hands into the air and stared wide-eyed at his friend, "Alexander, I'm pretty sure-"
Hercules held out a hand to silence the French teenager, whose loud and somewhat exasperated tone had made Alexander flinch back in surprise.
"Laf, cool it."
The French teenager folded his arms and Hercules continued, his voice cool and collected. He sometimes reminded John of George, though his sense of humour was a little less deadpan.
"Do you want to tell us about it, if you're comfortable with that?"
His fingers, still twitching nearer and nearer towards Lafayette, brushed the back of the French teenager's hand. The latter started slightly at this feather light touch but moved his hand surreptitiously on top of Hercules', squeezing gently.
"I... I suppose," he still wasn't looking directly at any of them, his gaze hopping from his own hands to the collar of John's shirt, to the door.
"I mean... Don't get me wrong, it wasn't a fun time but..." He shrugged and looked towards the window, "my life's not some fucking sob story. I don't need pity from anyone."
John nodded reassuringly, vigorously, Hercules and Lafayette quickly following suit and shifting further inwards.
"I guess... Well, this boys' home place. I was there for maybe three or four months. Outskirts of New York, not really the city. The first few months I spent in America were spent there."
He pauses, watching them from under a curtain of hair, frowning slightly and knitting his brow.
"It was alright I mean... I didn't get on with some of the boys but, you know, that's how it goes. I just- It was hard," he shrugged again and continued to fiddle, seemingly unable to keep his hands still.
"My English was shaky, my mom had just... I mean... It hadn't been long since... Since 'that' and I was in a whole new country."
He bit his lip and continued. Something shifted in the air slightly, tension strengthening and locking tightly into place around them.
"I was on these prescription sleeping meds, foster care paid for them, and I took like a dozen one night. Went to sleep, woke up to my roommate freaking out and making me sick into the toilet. Long story short, I went to the hospital, stayed there a few nights, survived with no lasting effects."
John realised then that he had been holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, audibly and shifted where he sat. The teenager stared sheepishly down at his bedsheets, glancing at John fleetingly and shifting where he lay.
Lafayette was the first to speak. He bit his lip and leant closer into Alexander, grasping his shoulder with a grounding, firm hand and looking him straight in the eye.
"Mais, c'est du passé tout ça maintenat. Nous sommes ici, nous voulons t'aider, et nous pouvons t'aider. Ça semble très ringard," he laughed and shrugged awkwardly, "mais, c'est vrai."
But that's all behind you now. We're here, we want to help you, and we can help you. That sounds really cheesy but it's true.
Alex gnawed on his lip for a moment before nodding, seemingly stealing himself to do so. He spoke quietly then, barely a whisper.
"D'accord... j'essayerai."
Okay... I will try.
He had not yet looked up at any of them, still pulling uncomfortably at the hospital band around his wrist.
Then, like an elastic band snapping, John's restraint broke. The almost magnetic pull towards Alexander dragged him into action, he would have very much liked to kiss him then, but instead settling for taking his hand a squeezing it hard, fighting the ever growing urge to embrace the teenager.
The words came tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall, overflowing and pushing each other to get out. His voice was slightly frantic, it was clear that the thoughts he was voicing had been bottled up inside him for a long time, festering and spreading like a disease.
"Je suis vraiment désolé, je suis désolé, c'est de ma faute, j'arrête pas de penser que j'aurais dû faire quelque chose plus pour toi, si je n'étais pas un tel connard-"
I'm so sorry, I'm sorry, it's my fault, I can't stop thinking that I should have done something more for you. If I wasn't such an asshole-"
John stopped himself abruptly and fell silent, looking down at where his and Alexander's hands were joined, feeling slightly sick.
He could sense Lafayette, Alexander's and Hercules' eyes on him. The latter would have no idea what he'd just said, but the tension hanging now in the air would have told him enough to know that John's outburst had been shocking.
"Jean, ce n'est pas vrai, Je ne-"
Hercules coughed awkwardly and Lafayette, who had been speaking, turned to face him.
"English, maybe?" He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and shrugged, "I'm kinda losing the plot here..."
Lafayette slapped a hand across his forehead in an exaggerated expression of frustration and nodded, looking apologetic.
"D'accord- I mean, okay. Sorry. John said that- he thinks himself at fault for this," he gestured towards Alexander, frowning, "that he behaved like an asshole."
Hercules narrowed his eyes and fixed John with a bewildered stare, that gave way a second later to a look of knowing recollection.
"John, this isn't your fault."
Hercules is trying to catch his eye, leaning down and staring at him with thinly disguised concern and fear.
John covers his face with his hand and shakes his head.
"I could have done something, I should have..."
Hercules takes John's wrist and holds it away from his face, staring John straight in the eyes.
"Done what John? You couldn't be with him every second of every day, you couldn't have stopped this, it's happened now. We just need to deal with it as best we can. There's no point in 'should haves' and 'could haves'."
John sighed and rubbed his face with his free hand, feeling Alexander's fingers grip his even tighter.
"John, I don't blame you. All this is my fault, it's... It was my choice, no one forced my hand."
Alexander's voice was low and soft, as though he didn't care so much about anyone but John hearing him.
John inhaled slowly, deeply, and shrugged, looking at the artificially coloured fruit in Alexander's bowl.
"I just feel like I should have been able to do something."
Alexander moved his left arm out from under the blankets and placed it on top of John's, so three of their hands were joined. His forearm was still bandaged though the dressing looked freshly changed.
"I- I don't blame you for this. In fact, I think if none of you were here it would've... it would've happened a lot sooner."
John said nothing, shrugging and squeezing hard on Alexander's hand. Lafayette slung an arm over his shoulder and poked his nose affectionately, making John squirm away, grinning.
At that moment, the nurse, John remembered Lafayette telling him her name was Marian, walked in. She smiled warmly at them and set down a large tray she'd been holding on the table opposite the bed.
"Morning! How are you guys?"
Lafayette relinquished his hold on John's shoulder and smiled, watching the nurse.
"Fine, glad to see Alex. How about you?"
She nodded, assembling what seemed to be a syringe at the table, though she was turned away from them.
"I'm good, just curious as to why Alexander's not finished his breakfast."
Alex blushed dark red and shrugged, eyeing the tray with distaste.
"I- I don't like bacon."
Marian turned around and shrugged, smiling.
"Can't say I've ever had it, but you need to eat. You won't be discharged until you've gained some weight."
She leant forward and slid the tray closer to Alexander, raising her eyebrows in a half stern, half playful manner.
He glanced from Lafayette to John, to Hercules and sighed, clearly embarrassed. Slowly, he picked up some of the scrambled egg on his fork and began to eat, resolutely ignoring the bacon. He looked ever so slightly sick and John wondered whether or not the nausea he'd probably experienced the night before had completely worn off.
"I have to give you this shot for preventing any more seizures. It's necessary more as a precaution than anything else, you're probably past the stage where you'll have another seizure by now."
Alexander shrugged and nodded, putting down the fork and letting go of John's hand. The nurse pushed up the sleeve of his hospital gown slightly and injected him quickly, Alex not wincing or flinching away at all. John supposed he was accustomed to much worse pain.
She drew out the needle and put the syringe in a plastic bag, dropping it back in the tray.
She smiled at Lafayette and walked nearer to the door, her arms full.
"Assures qu'il mange, oui?"
Make sure he eats, yes?
Lafayette opened his mouth to respond, grinning, but Alexander beat him to it.
"Je vais manger, mais pas le bacon."
I will eat, but not the bacon
The nurse frowned for a moment at this and John looked at Alexander quizzically, wondering what he had against the food. Sure, he got that he might dislike it, but Alexander wasn't exactly known for being fussy about what he ate. It was out of character to refuse what had been made for him, just on the basis he disliked it.
"Okay, I'll have a look at your meal plan and see what I can do. You'll eat most other things?"
Alexander nodded and ate another forkful of scrambled eggs to prove it, shrugging.
The nurse smiled and left, her footsteps retreating gradually down the quiet corridor. It was still early, and most patients weren't awake.
"What do you have against bacon? Just asking, the shit's pretty good, man."
John grinned this comment light-heartedly but the mirth on his face slowly died when he took in Alexander's expression. The teenager had gone a particularly saturnine, sickly pale shade and dropped his fork where it hovered over his plate.
Lafayette glanced at John in concern and knitted his brow, his eyes narrowed. Alex collected himself quickly, however, picking up the fork and taking another mouthful of food in an attempt to escape saying something.
"You okay?"
Alexander nodded vigorously and swallowed, his face still pale and swallow looking, though, it had been since they came in. He hadn't sported his natural, golden tan in a few months now.
Lafayette seemed to be internally debating whether or not to drop the subject or not, a second later evidently deciding on leaving it. Alexander had been through enough these past few days without them pestering him.
"What were you reading just then?"
Alexander set down his fork and picked up the next book next to his bed, opening it to a dog-eared page.
"Just this section on the federal bureaucracy."
Lafayette took the textbook and scanned the page quickly, humming in interest.
"I think that was on the syllabus for this semester, we'll study it soon."
Alexander nodded and felt the side of the mug on his tray.
"C'est fraîche- it's gone cold."
Lafayette sucked his teeth and leant back in his chair, resting his arms behind his head.
"Do you want a drink from the vending machine? Je peut t'acheter quelque chose."
I can buy you something.
Alexander shrugged and pushed the fork around his plate, through the still half-finished food.
"Okay, if you're down."
He nodded and stood up, mentioning for Hercules to stand up too.
"Venir avec moi, allons-y."
Come with me, let's go.
Hercules grinned at the two of them and followed Lafayette from the room, the French teenager's voice retreating down the corridor until his bubbly tone was out of earshot.
John turned to Alex and smiled at him, suddenly feeling more exposed and vulnerable than he had in a while. It struck him that this was the first time they'd been alone together in over a week.
"I really want you to know, I don't blame you and this isn't your fault."
John looked at his lap and nodded, biting his lip somewhat awkwardly.
"Yeah... Yeah, I know."
He looked up to see Alexander had leaned inwards slightly, so that they were less than thirty centimetres from each other.
It was John who moved in the rest of the way, connecting their lips. He could feel the hard rubber of the cannula at Alexander's nose but found he didn't much care, he wasn't about to let that stop him from kissing the boy he'd missed for so long.
Alex leant forward as far as he could without falling out of the bed and used his knee to nudge the tray away from him. John's hand reached out to hold his waist gently and Alexander grinned slightly into the kiss, their teeth clashing momentarily.
They pulled away a moment later, both smiling sheepishly.
"I've missed that," John admitted. To Alexander, but also to himself.
"Listen, I'm sorry about all the shit I said at the cinema. I didn't mean any of it."
Alexander shook his head and wrinkled his nose at the memory.
"Nah. It's alright. Asshole of that evening goes to Lee, not you."
John furrowed his brows and nodded, pulling his hair out of his ponytail and promptly retying it, just to have something to do with his hands.
"What did he mean that night, when he said something about you mentioning us going there?"
Alexander sighed and fiddled again with the band around his wrist. It was plastic and laminated, with his name and a few strings of numbers printed along it.
"Just before I went out to meet you, I ran into Lee and George. They were gonna, you know, do their thing and I said I had somewhere to be. I didn't even mention I was going out with you or that I was going to the cinema."
John sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
"That's why you were limping."
Alexander gritted his teeth and shrugged, sweeping some of his hair behind his ears. John watched this action intently, noting his rapidly fraying hairband struggling to hold all his hair in place.
"Do you want a hairband or something? I have some spares."
He nodded and John pulled a band from his wrist, holding out to Alexander. The teenager flipped his hair in front of him and scraped it all into a knot, having to leave a few baby hairs loose at the nape of his neck.
"How long have you had long hair?"
Alex shrugged and straightened up, his face now unobscured. This was an improvement in some senses, John could now see his expressions clearer and make proper eye contact, but it did bring into relief his obvious ill health; the shallowness of his cheeks and bluish undertones to his skin.
"It was short-ish before I came to America, but I haven't had more than a trim in a few years. It started because I didn't trust anyone near me with scissors," he blanched slightly and shrugged "but now I kinda like it like this. You?"
John grinned and shrugged, "well, my dad hates it, but I'm not exactly known for doing what he wants me to. I grew it out mainly to annoy him but like you said, I like it now."
Alex laughed and John felt a swooping sensation in his chest and grinned back, revelling in the fact that he had made Alexander laugh. The first real laugh he'd displayed since he'd woken up.
Just then, Lafayette and Hercules walked back in. Lafayette held two bottles of Lipton tea, one of water and one of coke.
"I didn't know what you would want, I got you a Lipton."
Alexander shrugged and accepted the drink, cracking the seal and taking a sip. He read the label and smiled slightly.
"I've always liked the lemon one better, the peach one wasn't all that common on Nevis. We had it in cans there, you know."
Hercules laughed and took a sip of his water.
"Weird..."
George pressed down on the break and the car slowed to a halt in the already darkening parking lot, the trees planted on the other side of the west wall casting dark shadows over all the cars.
Martha unbuckled her seatbelt next to him and shot him a small smile, straightening her blouse and patting her hair carefully. She'd gone into work for a few hours that morning, complaining to George that she'd been dodging questions about the reason for her absence all day.
They got out of the car together and walked across the lot towards the doors of the hospital. It was just a little after four but the sun had already dipped low in the sky, its golden arms stretching out towards them and splashing their surroundings with light.
They signed in quickly and walked through the hospital to Alexander's room on the third floor. The building wasn't exceedingly busy yet most wards they passed on the way up seemed to be occupied to some extent.
Alexander was sitting quietly up in bed when they arrived, fiddling with his wristband and bouncing his leg restlessly as John, Lafayette and Hercules chatted amicably. John was sitting closest to Alex, on a chair right by the edge of his bed.
Their hands lay out on the duvet, loosely clasped together, John's fingers tracing languid patterns over the back of Alexander's hand.
As Martha watched, she found it exceedingly difficult not to notice the way the two boys were glancing at each other. Though Lafayette was the one talking, Alexander's eyes flitted almost imperceptibly to John at least every minute or so, always meeting his gaze and smiling slightly, lowering his head, self-conscious.
Alexander looked up at the two of them as they entered the room and nodded in greeting, not exactly smiling but letting his lips twitch slightly, the ghost of a happy greeting.
Lafayette turned around and, adversely, grinned at them. His demeanour appeared decidedly different from the sullen, reticent one he'd displayed that morning.
John's face fell slightly as he took them in. He straightened up from his relaxed position on the chair and fell silent. Martha and George's arrival meant his and Hercules' departure and so far today he had only spent about five minutes alone with Alexander.
Hercules glanced at John and reached for his coat, draped across the back of his chair. They'd get the bus back to Hercules' house now, leaving Lafayette, George and Martha at the hospital.
Tomorrow maybe John would go into school for a few classes, maybe not. He had yet to decide.
"Afternoon," smiled Martha, unwrapping the woollen scarf tied around her throat and resting a hand on Lafayette's shoulder.
John smiled in return and glanced again at Alexander, feeling the teenager's eyes on him.
"I think that's our cue to leave," Hercules smiled and zipped up his jacket, pulling on the charcoal grey scarf he'd bought last fall.
John remembered taking the piss out of him for weeks after he'd gotten it. He'd spent his entire allowance on it and it was literally just a grey scarf... He thought he could recall Hercules scoffing and telling him he wouldn't know fashion if it danced right in front of his nose in a Balmain suit.
He hadn't really gotten the reference.
"Wouldn't want to get in trouble with the nurses."
John stayed silent as tugged on his leather jacket and glanced at Alexander, wishing he could have just five more minutes with him, have him to himself for any length of time, preferably a large one. They watched each other as John pulled a beanie on over his hair, smiling.
"Te extrañaré, cariño."
I'll miss you, baby.
John didn't speak Spanish, not by any means, but he'd done it for three years in middle school and had gotten B's and the occasional A. His dad spoke it though, being Puerto Rican, so he'd learned the odd phrase here and there.
He wouldn't pin himself even close to fluency though, or even as having a conversational skill with the langauge. Now, however, it was the only way to get his point across to Alex without anyone else understanding.
Alexander's eyes widened ever so slightly before he bit his lip and turned away from John, his face burning a furious red.
"Eres un coqueto incorregible, cariño."
You're an incorrigible flirt, baby.
John grinned, feeling a certain warmth blooming in his chest at Alexander's return of the nickname, even though it was at the very least semi-ironic.
Hercules tilted his head slightly and looked at him, bewildered. John shook his head, feeling his face spilt into a wide grin.
He pulled Lafayette into a quick, one-armed hug and patted him on the back reassuringly, feeling Hercules' strong hand tugging on his cuff. Lafayette's eyes wrinkled kindly at the corners and he muttered in John's ear,
"Envoie-moi un message ce soir, d'accord. Je ne comprends pas espagnol, tu devras traduire."
Text me tonight, alright, I don't understand Spanish, you will have to translate.
John rolled his eyes but nodded, hearing Hercules tut at their lateness behind him. John half expected to turn around and see him tapping his watch. He was such a mom.
"We're gonna miss the 4:15 bus, we should leave."
John released Lafayette, smirking and nodded politely at George and Martha, fighting down the large grin that was still spread across his face, making him look, he was sure, a little stupid.
They both watched him, half quizzical, half amused for a moment before smiling and waving as Hercules pulled him from the room and down the hospital corridor.
Hey, dudes, I'm sorry to end it there, but it was at like 7,600 words and it's late and I'm tired; you can probably see my writing standard lowering as the chapter goes on tbh.
