In the bustling streets of New York city parents taking their kids for walks was a common sight. They'd giggle and bounce and pull tired caretakers along by the hand towards a variety of interesting sights. One of these kids, a little boy named Philip, clutched tightly to the arm of an exceptionally tired looking dad. The bags under his eyes were a dark purple, and his hair was coming loose in tangled strands from its ponytail.

"Come on pops! There's a stall with sweets across the street! Hurry uh-up." Philip's voice echoed high and airy through the streets, strengthened by the unbridled energy that came along with childhood. Alex, more tired than he'd ever been in his life, let out a sigh and let himself be dragged along by his son.

It was undeniable that the trip into town had taken its toll on both of them, though Philip was dealing with it way better than he was. Silently he cursed how far away their place was from the town center, but he simply hadn't been able to afford anything else. They'd been walking through the city for barely half an hour, but he felt exhaustion pulling his eyelids closed already. He'd known yesterday evening that he should have tried to get some sleep, but he simply hadn't been able to drift off. Intrusive thoughts and desperate what-ifs plagued his mind all night long. So instead he'd done what he did best and busied himself by writing. Letters, books, political essays... You name it, he'd written at least ten. The small apartment he'd managed to scrounge enough money together for was already covered to the brim with papers. (Papers which, coincidentally, had earned him the money in the first place.) Even Philips bed eventually had to surrender to the inky mess infesting every single surface and storage space the place had to offer.

Philip... Alex sighed again and looked at the boy's curls bouncing along in front of him. Both of them knew this trip would've come eventually. No matter how long he'd try to postpone it. Philip was thrilled to see the big city, Alex on the other hand felt as if he could explode at any moment. To go into the town center would take an entire day trip, but that excuse had worn out quickly. He knew that he had to do this, if not for his own sake then for his son's. If he got lucky today, he might not be a single parent anymore. He let go of Philip to anxiously wring his hands together, then shook himself out of his thoughts. No, he had to get himself together now. With a smile that was only slightly forced he turned to his son and gestured to the stall.

"Go on then kid, pick something out."

Knowing he'd have to come to New York eventually hadn't made it any easier to actually do so, hence why it had taken him so long. The longing in his stomach had gotten fiercer and heavier with the years, no matter how hard he'd tried to ignore it. Ever since he found out who his mate was, the longing had turned more and more into a pull, focusing his attention towards the city. The bite mark in his neck hadn't let him forget its presence either. It still tingled and, on occasion, stung so bad he'd double over on his desk in the middle of an essay. He cursed his mate for it, but still yearned to see him. He also cursed him for being just so damn difficult to reach. Most of all though, against better judgement, Alex cursed himself. Of all the people he could have drunkenly hooked up with, he just had to pick the one ruling their entire country, didn't he?

As you may have guessed by now, Alex's mate was the President. It had been quite the shock to find out. He had been talking to the bartender on duty that night, when he'd casually mentioned the fact. To say Alex had felt his entire world shatter around him might be an underestimation. It had never stopped people from being rude and sometimes downright cruel to him and Philip, though. It was quite hard to convince people of the legitimacy of a claim like "my mate is President George Washington" when said mate was absolutely nowhere to be found. So he'd struggled along, taking care of Philip and himself as best as he could, keeping up a confident façade for his son.

Right now though, Alex desperately wished for Washington to show up at his side and hold him close. The city felt immeasurably big and scary when it was just him and Philip in their oversized coats. He'd wanted to go and look for Washington today, having finally gathered up the courage. Just his luck though- the President was out of town. The stoic guard they'd spoken to outside the Washington residence first had aggressively reminded him that he was only available on appointment, and wasn't home at the moment anyway. When Alex kept insisting, he'd gotten roughly shoved aside and reminded of his status as an Omega, as if he'd ever forget such a fact. He'd almost lost his composure, but had finally given in and walked away, Philip trailing behind him.

Now they sat on a bench in the park, talking about anything and everything. Philip counted the butterflies and the clouds drifting past. Alex slowly got lost in thought looking at his son. He felt the world get a bit brighter around him when the boy turned around, beaming, with a bumblebee on his hand. Alex laughed and gave him a thumbs up. He felt the longing in his stomach line itself with a strong determination. He had to do this. He had to push through, for him and for Philip.

A voice brusquely pulled him out of his musings, and the startling familiarity of it felt like freezing fingers around Alex's throat.

"Alexander." A freckled face looking way too much like Philip for Alex to be comfortable appeared right in front of him. He became vaguely aware of two warm -equally freckled- hands on his upper arms, most likely placed there to draw his attention.

"John", he responded coolly,trying his very best to keep his voice from shaking. He carefully pulled away from John's grip and stood up from the bench. "What brings you to New York?"

"Oh you know..." John shrugged whilst nervously adverting his gaze. He fidgeted with a piece of paper in his hands. "I heard you were around, so I figured I might as well... Ugh, this is harder than I thought, I wanted to give-"

Alex held up his hand, a clear sign for John to stop talking. He caught Philip's gaze across the grass and gestured for him to approach. The boy did so, and Alex turned to John again. "I've no interest in seeing you again. If you came here to apologise, it's way too late for that now. We'll be leaving now." And just like that, he took Philip's hand, turned around and left.

"Alexander!" John cried out. He tried to stop him, but Alex wrenched free from the man's vice like grip.

"Goodbye John." His face fell as Alex pushed him out of the way. If at any point Alex had turned around, he would have seen the storm brewing in John's eyes, quickly turning from disappointment to anger. But he never did.

After a few minutes, Philip gently pulled on his father's sleeve to draw his attention. "Pops? Why were you so mean to John? You like him, don't you?" His eyes gleamed with curiosity and Alex sighed for the umpteenth time that day. He really wanted to go back home. Slowly he dragged a hand across his face and collected his thoughts.

"Well, I..", he hesitated, "I used to like him. And I thought he liked me, but then..." Alex's eyes glazed over, as if a layer of smoke obscured them. "He did some bad things, but we won't be seeing him anymore, okay?"

Philip nodded quietly, not quite understanding but old enough to see his dad wasn't going to talk about the matter anymore.

Alex didn't cry that night when he reread their letters. He'd spilled all of those tears long ago. His heart still ached a bit when his fingers followed the elegant penmanship along the worn pages. This time though, writing wouldn't save him. Slow but determined he tore the letters in half one by one, making a neat pile of them which he tossed into the fire.

Courting him despite his unwillingness. coaxing Alex into an unwanted relationship. Making out with Martha Manning behind her parents house, then turning around and kissing him. Assuring Alex softly he'd patch him up, whispering sweet words under his breath. Alex had been desperate and lonely, he'd trusted him with his whole heart, and he'd stepped on it. All of that was behind him now, he'd heal, eventually.

Flames flickered in the fireplace, reflected in Alex's brown eyes. Between them he could just barely make out four words, disappearing as the paper was consumed.

John Laurens, forever yours

He breathed out, and just like that, Alex closed off a chapter of his life that had lingered for far too long. It was time to start again.