Hey guys, new chapter. Thanks for putting up with my super irregular updates, I'll try to get better, I swear!

I've made a pinterest account and created mood boards for the characters basically, it's pretty cool, it's Anais Levins, so check it out if you want. Two of you I think follow me already, which is cool.

Trigger warnings: Suicide discussion, hospitals, trauma, mention of underage drinking, unhealthy parent-child relationships.

Eliza had never been to this hospital before. She could remember visiting her grandma when she was ill a few years ago, but that had been all the way up in Albany, a long way from Newport. This was the nearest one to their town, just on the outskirts of the main city, it was a relatively small building, two blocks of grey and white cladding and a newly built ER wing, designed by someone who evidently hadn't considered how a sleek, rounded white entrance might compliment the 60's era cuboid architecture of the main building.

Eliza's thoughts were digressing. There were more important matters to be dealing with than her distaste for the hospital's architecture. She made her way up to the main desk in the reception nervously, trying to ignore the echo of her footsteps as they rang quietly out through the hallway. The place was almost eerily empty, Lafayette hadn't yet arrived to bring her up to the ward.

He'd called her back yesterday, as he'd promised. The teenager had confirmed Eliza's suspicions that Alexander was in hospital, but hadn't disclosed as to why this might be. Eliza, aware she'd already been pushy and forward in the face of a possibly sensitive subject, hadn't pushed for the answer right then. She'd deal with that today.

She waited there, on one of the carpeted, scratchy chairs opposite the desk, until Lafayette came through some double doors at the far end of the room. He was as tall, lanky and toned as ever in his tank top, yet Eliza fancied she saw slightly less flesh on the bones of his face and darker circles beneath his eyes. He was dressed slightly differently to his usual suave, fashion-conscious self. Though wearing his usual expensive brands, Eliza got the impression he'd taken much less care assembling the outfit than he might normally. As though he'd stopped caring very much about that sort of thing.

"Eliza!"

He jogged over as she stood up and embraced her tightly, his long arms wrapping completely around her shorter frame in a tight embrace. Eliza closed her eyes for a moment, savoured the reunion with an old friend and stepped back, smiling.

"How are you? Are you alright?"

Lafayette waved his hand dismissively, airily in an almost laughably French manner.

"I am fine, it is not me you need worry about."

He said this jovially, intoned with his usual French accent, but the words themselves, or rather the meaning behind them, were slightly less cheerful. It is not me you need worry about. So she did have to worry about Alex? Her fears hadn't been misplaced then? Was he very ill?

"Well, all the same, I've missed you."

He smiled, he'd always had a nice smile. It invited trust, made you feel safe. It actually did tell a lot about his personality, his smile. Eliza could think of few people safer and more trustworthy than Lafayette.

"Well, Alex is anxious to see you, shall we go?"

He held the door open for her as they left in the direction of Alex's room, ever the gentlemen. It wasn't one of those annoying, grand, 'chivalrous' gestures however, it seemed subconscious. Eliza hadn't hung out with the teenager in a while, she'd nearly forgotten how much she loved his little idiosyncrasies, his politeness, so contrasting to how some boys acted around girls.

They walked through the hallways of the hospital, past various wards for children, adults, the elderly and seemingly everything else in between. They often had to stop to allow nurse wheeling patients or equipment to and from different parts of the hospital by. Eventually, they reached a quiet corner of the building, near the west wing, and moved towards the entrance of a long, airy looking corridor. Above the set of oak double doors was a sign, Children's psychiatric ward.

Eliza frowned slightly and quickened her pace, scanning quickly over the other signs on the doors and through the open entrances of the wards on either side of her. A psychiatric ward? Why was Alex here, what had happened?

Lafayette stopped at a door adjacent to the window at the very end of the corridor and punched in a quick code on the lock securing it. He smiled quickly at Eliza, turned the handle and pushed the door open.

It was a modestly sized room furnished with a bed, three chairs, a table and some cupboards. Eliza didn't focus much on these details, her attention turned instantly to the teenager sat on the chair directly opposite the door they'd just come through.

Alex was thin and sallow looking, he had a starved smile and his jeans hung awkwardly over his narrow hips, reminiscent to Eliza, perhaps cruelly, of a scarecrow. He stood up as soon as he laid eyes upon them and started quickly towards her, fingers fidgeting and shoulders marginally, almost undetectably stiff. Eliza was good a reading people though, she didn't miss this.

What Eliza didn't know was Alex actually looked better today than he had previously. His under-eye circles, though still noticeable, we more diminished than prior visits and though his cheekbones were still very prominent, his face seemed at least slightly fuller. Being made eat under the strict eye of experienced, trained nurses had its perks.

"Alex!"

He pulled her into a quick, solid hug, thin arms around her middle and head rested gently on her shoulder. His grip was tight, almost as though he was trying to compensate for his lacklustre appearance with a firm, strong hold. Eliza might have been reading too far into this, he could simply have been excited to see her, but her gut told her he was definitely nervous.

"Liza, I've missed you."

He pulled back and scanned her appearance, taking in her dark jeans and striped top, the Gucci bag slung over her shoulder. She'd not been sure what to wear. What was appropriate garb for visiting a sick friend in hospital? She'd decided to go understated, but her bag had been the only one appropriate, so she'd brought it, despite the fact that it screamed wealth.

Alex sat back down and motioned for Eliza to take a seat beside him. He sat rather casually, languidly on his. His legs dangled over the first armrest and his back rested against the second. It was completely averse to Eliza's neat, knees together position. Lafayette fell somewhere in between.

"Well, I... Are you alright, what happened? Why are you here? I've been so worried, Alex."

Lafayette looked away at this and Alex sighed, his fingers twitching and drumming against his thigh in a nervous, irregular pattern.

"Look, first things first, I don't want you to worry, okay. I'm doing fine, I'm gonna be okay. The last thing I need is people stressing over me."

Eliza nodded silently, her mind buzzing insatiably, running through and analysing idea after situation after circumstance.

"Maybe five or six days ago I took an overdose. I'm gonna be fine. I'm still here, I just need to rest up for another week or so before I can get back to my life."

He let the first part of his explanation out in a rush, trying to get the news out as quickly as he could. His second sentence was slower, more calculated. He evidently hoped that if he seemed calm and nonchalant, she would be too. He was silent for a few moments after letting this out, they all were. Lafayette played with his hair, Eliza was frozen in her seat and Alex kicked his heel into the leg of his chair a few times his brows furrowed.

And Eliza, well, Eliza felt awful. She'd spent the last three days pestering Hercules, John and Lafayette about what had happened, not bothering to consider whether she might be rampaging blindly into a sensitive, still very raw topic for them. Lafayette was practically Alex's brother, Hercules one of his best friends and John... Well, there were even rumours that they were dating. And she'd gone and bothered them until they gave in. Now she'd just learned that Alex had tried to kill himself.

And she'd thought he was on drugs.

Lafayette rolled his eyes from his chair, evidently displeased at Alex's summary of the events. To be fair to the French teenager, his foster brother did sound like he was leaving out significant portions of the event, an obvious attempt to make it sound much less painful than it probably was.

"Alex... I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... God, I had no idea."

The teenager smiled awkwardly and shrugged, his main attention seemed to be on his nails.

"Well, you cared about me. You came to see me. It's more than I could have asked for."

Eliza rested her hand on his arm and leant into him, her eyes wide and earnest.

"Of course I came! Alex, I don't see you any differently. I'm just glad you're getting help."

Lafayette smiled at that, as did Alex, and Eliza crossed her legs, scooting closer towards her friends.

Alexander started to remember exactly why he'd clicked so easily with Eliza. He realised again how compatible they were, how easily a conversation flowed between them. He'd had misgivings about Eliza knowing what had happened at first, yet he couldn't shake the feeling of safety her presence gave him. He couldn't shake the vague notion that things... Things might be okay one day.


Hercules set down his phone and stretched out on the sofa. Lafayette was leaving the hospital now, going home on the bus. John, adversely, was about to depart to visit Alex. Laf had invited Hercules over, he'd admitted he didn't really want to be home alone and Hercules hadn't been around there in a while.

"You're going to see Laf, right?"

Hercules nodded in his usual, quiet manner and yawned. He wasn't sleeping much these days. He could sense the smile on his friend's face, he didn't need to look over to see it. John could be so annoying sometimes.

"Hmm, what's the situation on that front, then? Chance for romantic times?"

"I swear, John, you cannot shut up about that, can you?"

"What kind of friend would I be if I did?"


Lafayette answered the door fidgeting, pale, his hair loose around his face. Hercules smiled at him, tilted his head in concern and stepped over the threshold.

"Laf, hey, everything okay?"

The French boy smiled weakly and stepped aside for him to come in, guiding him through the hallway with a hand on the small of his back. The house was warm but only the downstairs lights were turned on, the upper floor seemed to be completely empty. They sat down in the living room and Lafayette sighed loudly, leaning his head back over the arm of the sofa, upside down. Hercules watched him apprehensively for a moment, about to speak, when he beat him to it.

"I can't be here, I can't go up to where I found him."

Hercules instantly knew what he was talking about. Lafayette had found Alex unconscious that morning, when he'd overdosed, lying across the threshold of his bedroom. Lafayette had said extremely little about it, just that George had checked Alex's vitals and they'd taken him to the ER. It had no doubt been very traumatic, Hercules imagined finding someone he loved half-dead, pale with blue lips and sunken eyes, lying across the floor...

He imagined finding Lafayette like that, long limbs crumpled around him, chest barely moving, unresponsive. It chilled him to the very bone.

"I... I'm sorry. I understand. I wouldn't either."

Lafayette sat up and suddenly pushed himself right up against Hercules, hugging him, his breath warm on his neck. Hercules' heart fluttered slightly and hesitantly lifted his hand to rub between his friend's shoulders gently. His stomach constricted, he had to push down the rush of desire and affection filling him. This wasn't the time.

"Do you want something to drink?" His voice was muffled yet eager against Hercules' chest.

Hercules shrugged, trying not to let himself become distracted by the feeling of fluffy hair against his neck or warm body heat pressed to his chest. Then, suddenly, Lafayette sprung backwards and hopped off Hercules, leaving the teenager cold.

"What do you want? I think there's some whiskey in the cabinet under the sink and we have cans of coke in the fridge to mix it with. Or there's beer in the fridge too, if you want some of that."

Hercules stared at his friend for a long moment, swallowed and tilted his head slightly. His mouth was dry, his eyes narrowed.

"I was thinking more along the lines of some tea or coffee."

"Oh," Lafayette looked a little disappointed, "yeah, we have that too."

Hercules watched his friend for another moment or two, took in his slightly trembling hands and hastily pushed back hair. He'd been running his hands through it before Hercules had arrived, in stress. That was clear now.

"Laf, are you sure you're okay?"

The French teenager nodded quickly, beamed and spun on his heel, starting towards the kitchen. His footsteps were light, too light, and he had an almost exaggerated spring in his step.

"Well, I'll have some coffee from the machine. But we have tea too, and those herb things you like so much."

"Herbal teas, Laf."

"Whatever."

They turned on a TV show then and watched a few short episodes. Lafayette started, during the very first episode, sat upright against the sofa. Comfortably, but at least half a metre from Hercules. By the end of the third, however, his head was on his friend's lap.

Hercules sat there contentedly, idly stroking Lafayette's head as they watched a fourth episode. Lafayette only let about three or four people touch his hair, that was Hercules, Martha and John. Sure, Alex too, but he wasn't prone like Hercules or Martha to play with it absently, he really only did that with John.

"When do you think John'll be back? He could hang here, or..."

Lafayette rolled over onto his back and stretched, looking up tiredly at Hercules.

"I don't know, but that sounds cool. I'd text him, but," he attempted to move, groaned loudly and flopped back down on Hercules' lap with a small grin.

"I can't."

Hercules toyed with some of his baby hairs fondly and closed his eyes, leaning back over the couch.

"How did Eliza react to all of this?"

Lafayette's eyes were still closed, he spoke softly, as though through sleep.

"She took it well. Said she felt awful about pestering us though."

"I don't hold it against her. I'd be pretty annoying if it were you sick and I knew nothing."

Hercules looked down at Lafayette as he said this, felt his knuckle graze his jaw. The French teenager's eyes opened, half-lidded, bright and he started humming a tune under his breath, one Hercules had to strain to make out.

And I would walk five hundred miles, and I would walk five hundred more...

Hercules laughed and pushed Lafayette playfully, the French teenager curling up on his lap and closing his eyes, still grinning.

"You're an idiot, Gilbert de Motier, Lafayette-Washington."

"You missed like seven names, hon."

Hercules grinned, leant his head back over the couch and sighed, beginning to count on his fingers.

"So it's Marie-Joseph Paul Yves... Roch Gilbert de Motier Marquis de Lafayette-Washington?"

He felt the teenager below him nod and he smiled in satisfaction, thinking for a moment.

"Isn't 'Marquis' like old royalty?"

"Yeah. It probably doesn't actually mean I'm related to the old monarchy, but it's always been a name in my mom's family. Like how you Americans have 'King'."

Hercules nodded in understanding and turned his attention back towards the television, watching with only vague interest.

"Mulligan is Irish."

Lafayette rolled onto his side so his cheek was pressed into Hercules' thigh, his back facing the teenager's stomach.

"Yeah, sounds it. How come you've got Irish in you?"

"Well, I think, way back somewhere, there are some Irish immigrants on my dad's side. Not much."

Lafayette nodded in understanding and closed his eyes again, sinking into the warmth of his friend and yawning. A few minutes later, when the episode ended, Hercules was about to ask Lafayette if he wanted to watch something else. Then, he caught a faint snore from the French teenager. Maybe they'd stay just like this for a little while. Hercules would like that.


John arrived at the hospital to visit Alex just as Eliza was leaving. They actually bumped into each other in the entrance hall, Eliza in her usual, understated yet fashionable garb and John in jeans and his leather jacket.

Eliza rushed towards him and pulled him into a tight hug, her head warm against his shoulder, her hair smelling like strawberries.

"John! It's so good to see you!"

"Same here, how's Alex?"

Eliza stepped back, pushed some hair behind her ear and shrugged.

"I mean, he seems fine. Considering... The circumstances."

John dug his hands into his pockets and rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet awkwardly.

"Yeah, I get you. Okay."

"Listen, John, if I'd known about... About why he was here, I wouldn't have been so... Nosy."

John shook his head, a small smile ghosting across his face.

"It's alright. You just wanted to know what had happened. I would too."

Eliza shrugged, gave a quick, gentle grin and they hugged a final time before parting ways.

Alex was lain across his bed reading when John walked in. He looked up, put aside his book and twisted to face John with a grin on his face.

"Hey."

John grinned, flopped onto the bed beside Alex and laid his head across his lap. Alex jumped momentarily, a little confused, before laughing and reaching down to push some hair from John's face.

"Consider my personal space well and truly encroached."

John laughed, looking up at Alex with his bright, amber eyes.

"You love it."

They lay there for a while, talking. John had read the book Lafayette had borrowed for him and found great pleasure in teasing Alex with false, specious spoilers just to frighten him. Alexander didn't have much happening that day. He was going to see Warren, a psychiatrist, later and maybe check in with the head doctor in the ward about how he was doing physically.

Eventually, the subject came around to John's current living situation with Hercules.

"How long has it been now?"

Alex had long since slumped from his previous, upright position against the wall and was now lying across John's legs, his feet hanging off the edge of the bed.

"Nearly two weeks."

Alexander's eyebrows creased and he played absently with the end of John's t-shirt. It was a black one, brought out all the different golden shades in his skin.

"Are you gonna go back to your dad's?"

"I... I don't know. I'll be sixteen soon, then I can get a job, be more independent."

Alex sat up, leant on his hands and frowned.

"Wait. When do you turn sixteen?"

"October twenty-eighth."

Alex froze. His hand paused where it had been about to push back some hair.

"So, in like under two weeks?"

John nodded slowly, his eyes lowered to his lap. For whatever reason, the subject of birthdays had never come up between them.

"John, I might still be here then, I can't get you anything, I might not be able to go out with you guys, I-"

The taller boy smiled slightly, rested a hand on Alex's shoulder to cease his rant and shrugged, leaning closer Alexander and stroking his head reassuringly.

"Look, I don't care whether you get me anything. As long as I see you."

Alex groaned, held his face in his hands and shook his head.

"It's your sixteenth, it's a big deal. If I'm still shut up in here..."

John dislodged his legs from beneath Alex's torso and crawled closer to the teenager, kneeling beside where he was sprawled out, his face in his hands.

"Hey, you might not even be here by then, maybe you'll have been discharged."

Alexander nodded, sighed and sucked in a long, steadying breath.

"Yeah, I guess."

"When's your birthday?"

"January eleventh. Still a few months away."

John nodded and then, leant in towards Alex's mouth, lips slightly parted, eyes fluttering shut. Alexander reciprocated instantly and pressed his lips to John's almost feverishly, his hand reaching around to cup his jaw.

"Look, don't stress over it. As long as I see you, I'll have an amazing birthday."


When John left the hospital later that evening, he felt as though he was burning. Burning like the wick of a candle, or a supernova. A cloud of heat seemed to surround him all the way to the bus stop, he barely even felt the cold against his exposed hands, didn't notice the darkness of streets he walked along.

Seeing Alexander always did this to him, it always made him absolutely humming with energy. He didn't know if it did the same thing to the other teenager, but sometimes he thought he sensed it. A crackle of electricity between their lips when they kissed. The heat that sometimes scorched in their glances.

He got the bus back to Hercules place, not even tired from his long back and forth across town that day. The music his earphones throbbed and pulsed in his ears, turned up, he was sure, far too loudly. He took the spare key from under the flowerpot on the veranda and opened up, calling out his greetings into Hercules' house.

"Hey! I'm back!"

There was movement in the sitting room and John heard the TV pause, Hercules' voice yelled in response a moment later.

"Hey! How's Alex?"

John made his way into the sitting room and flopped down beside his friend, putting his legs up on the poufef and stretching, rather like a cat, well-fed and contented.

"He seems good, starting to look better. Healthier, I mean."

Hercules nodded and un-paused the game he'd been playing on the PlayStation. John picked up a controller and went to the menu to select his own character.

"How's Laf? Any romantic times?"

He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning and Hercules groaned loudly, shaking his head with a broad grin on his face. Suddenly, though, the smile seemed to falter and his dark eyebrows knit tightly together.

"Actually, I'm sort of worried about him."

John leant forward on the couch and logged into his own account on the game.

"How do you mean?"

"Just... One minute he's himself, laughing and happy, the next I'm worried he's about to cry. He's taking all this pretty hard."

John bit his lip and dragged it thoughtfully between his teeth for a moment. He shook some errant curls absently from his face, both hands busy on the controller and sighed.

"He found Alex that morning... I can't imagine it."

He put down his controller suddenly and Hercules though he probably was imagining it, just like he'd done earlier. He nodded in sympathy and paused the game, twisting to face his friend.

"I think he needs to see Alex out of the hospital, going out, writing, being himself. When he does soon, I think that will help reassure him."

John murmured his agreement and then, just as he was about to un-pause the game, the doorbell rang.

Hercules sighed and stood up, dropping his controller and holding out an apologetic hand to John. John heard him move through the hallway and a second later, heard the door open. He closed his eyes and laid back across the couch, waiting for Hercules to return.

"Hey, John!"

He opened his eyes and sat up, sighing heavily.

"Yeah?"

"It's... It's your dad."

John was on his feet in an instant, his heart pounding, his hands trembling unwarranted. Why was his dad here? Why the fuck was his dad here? He stuffed his hands in his pockets, took a heavy, deep breath and walked stiffly out into the corridor.

Henry Laurens stood in the doorway of Hercules' house, such a sight John had never thought, even dreamed, he would see. He was wearing a hastily pulled on peacoat and his eyes were livid, red-rimmed. Had he been drinking? Fuck, had he been drinking?

"John."

"Dad? Wha- What are you doing here?"

The man didn't respond to his question, just turned to Hercules, "can we have a moment alone, please?"

Hercules shot John a frantic, torn look, his eyes jumped from his best friend to John's father, terrified and unsure. He knew what the man was like, that he'd slapped his son. He didn't know what to do.

John nodded his head ever so slightly and Hercules gulped. Then, he turned from the room.

John turned back to his dad, but before he could speak, the man had marched over to him and grabbed his arm forcefully, his fingers almost bruisingly tight around the skin.

"Wha-"

"John, I have put up with this ridiculous behaviour for far too long. You're coming home now, tonight."

John tugged his arm free, shook his head wildly and glared at the man, his eyes hard. His heart was hammering, he was in complete shock. What the hell was going on? Why now? This was so sudden, why now was his father here?

"Why would I go with you? You hit me! You don't even want me!"

Henry Laurens shook his head, his fists were clearly clenched in his pockets and his eyebrows were knitted close together furiously.

"You are my son, John!" He spat, his eyes blazing furiously," You have a duty to your younger siblings, you have a duty to me. I've indulged this absurdity for long enough!"

John took another step backwards from the door and folded his arms around himself, shaking his head. He thought he might now know why his dad had made this strange, sudden appearance; he'd been drinking. He did that often, on a larger scale than John would have liked. It had started after his parents' divorce when he was thirteen or so, but had gotten worse in the last two years. John often had to wake up early in the mornings to clean beer cans from the sitting room and he'd had more than one alcohol-fuelled confrontation with the man.

"No. I'm happy here, I'm safe here. I'm nearly sixteen anyway, you can't order me around anymore."

His father's jaw tightened and he shook his head, reached forward to take John's arm for a second time.

"John, I will not have you staying here, going around with that boy the Washingtons foster, skipping school! You are coming home!"

John groaned, held his face in his hands and closed his eyes. How did his dad know he'd been missing school? He didn't know about Alex, that was certain, he must have assumed John was just acting out, being rebellious. That he was skiving class to meet up with boys.

"You don't get it! That's not- How did you know I was here?"

The man's fingers tightened around his arms and John winced slightly, trying to pull away, His dad seemed to notice the movement and tightened his grip even further, his chest heaving with rage. John wondered how much he'd drank. He was talking normally, he wasn't stumbling and he didn't smell like beer, but his mood seemed slightly erratic and unstable, and he was angry. Altogether, these weren't good signs.

"Henry told me, besides-" he was cut off from continuing by John, who'd just cursed under his breath. Henry had fucking told their dad? It couldn't have been on purpose, could it?

"John, Martha, James and Mary ask about you every day! You haven't seen them in weeks."

John winced in shame at this truth. If there was one place his father knew he could hit a nerve, it was the subject of his siblings. John adored his sisters and brothers, even if they got on his nerves often. Mary was the youngest, only five. She'd be missing him, he knew that. He helped her with homework and played with her every night, now he was gone, who did that?

"Are they... Are they okay?"

His father sighed, his face softened, "they miss you, John."

John held his face in his hands and took several long, deep breaths. He missed his siblings so much. So goddamn much it hurt. Could he reconcile in staying with Hercules, abandoning them? Could he reconcile going back there, to a father that was unable to accept him for who he was?

"Dad, I just... You don't understand me, you don't accept me! How can you expect me to be okay being told I'm going to hell every day, by my own father!"

His father scowled angrily. Suddenly, the softness that had been present on his face when he'd talked about the younger children dissipated.

"John, you are still a child, you're still my son. If I tell you to come home, you'll do it!"

John scoffed, he dug his hands further into his pockets and squeezed his nails sharply into the skin of his palms.

"I'm not your child and anyway, if I do come home, it won't be because you fucking told me to."

The bitterness in his words shocked them both and despite John's rage, he was mentally kicking himself for letting those words slip out. His dad hated him speaking like that.

"John, I didn't think I'd need to remind you again," his voice rose, furious, "not to speak to me in that way!"

"Oh, yeah, because it's so much better than how you talk to me isn't it?"

His dad looked, at that moment, as though he'd like to unleash the full potential of his anger at John. His eyes were livid, much lighter than John's own and a murky, foreboding colour. His chest heaved and his fists were clenched. Evidently, though, he seemed to realise that he couldn't do this in the hallway of another person's home. He closed his eyes, taking one long, steadying breath.

"John, I want you to pack your things and get in the car. I'm done with allowing you to disobey me like this."

John's mouth opened in protest, he was about to spit out a cutting, sarcastic retort when his father's grip on his arm tightened and he was met with such a furious, warning glare that the words died on his tongue. He closed his mouth, took a step backwards and fled into the living room, holding back the tears that pricked behind his eyelids.

Hercules sat on the couch, his hands clasped together on his lap, his face grey with worry.

"John, I heard yelling, what's going on?"

John moved to the sofa and started grabbing things up off it, his hoodie, some clothes, his charger.

"I'm going home."

Hercules gaped at him, his eyes huge, dumbfounded; he stood up instantly.

"John, are you sure that's the best idea?"

John grit his teeth, closed his eyes to stop the tears spilling over his lashes and shook his head.

"No." His voice broke as he said it yet he continued to shove items into his backpack, looking around frantically for anything he'd missed.

"John, you... You can still stay here! You're welcome here!"

John shook his head, his eyes still closed, his chest heaving.

"I can't, Herc. Look, you're my best friend, but I seriously... I've got siblings to look out for, I can't keep leeching off of you."

Hercules opened his mouth to retort but John shut him down, shook his head and hoisted his backpack tighter around his shoulders. His best friend stared at him hopelessly, his face a mask of shock and fear. What had just happened hadn't yet settled into either of their consciousnesses thus far.

"John, I... Please, If he does anything, promise you'll leave."

"Herc, we don't get along, but he won't hurt me. What happened was a once off."

Hercules looked desperate, his tall frame and broad chest suddenly seemed so much smaller, he looked a lot younger when he was this anxious for his friend. John was reminded then that they were barely sixteen, still, as his dad had said, kids.

"I'll see you as soon as I can, okay."

He pulled his friend into a tight, one armed hug and breathed in the smell of the house he'd come to call home over the last fortnight. A smell he could associate with safety, friends, good food, laughter. Disco music keeping him up at night, barbecues on the front lawn, pink kneed kids playing ball on the street. He'd miss this place, it was what he thought a home ought to feel like.

"Take care of yourself, please, John."

Hercules' voice wavered marginally, he was so clearly scared for his friend. It, by extension, stressed out John. Hercules was supposed to be their rock, and now they were both losing their footing. It was disconcerting, to say the least.

John shouldered his bag and stepped out into the hallway, a grim expression of determination on his face. He wasn't doing this for himself, he wasn't doing this for his dad. He was doing this for Mary, Martha and James. He was doing this to stop living off The Mulligans.

He wasn't doing this because he was scared of his dad. He wasn't doing this because he was scared of his dad, he wasn't doing this because he was scared of his dad. He wasn't doing this because he was scared of his dad.

If he said it enough times over, he realised, he could almost make himself believe it.