Alex
It's time once more for the Legendary Balls-Out Bananas White House Trio New Year's Eve Party.
Technically, the title is the Young America New Year's Eve Gala, or as named by at least one late-night host, the Millennial Correspondents' Dinner. Every year, Alex, June and Nora fill up the East Room on the first floor with three hundred or so of their friends, vague celebrity acquaintances, former hookups, potential political connections, and otherwise notable twenty-something.
Unfortunately for Alex they're still finalising the details of the event. There is still the menu to finalise, Snapchat filter to approve, and Alex finds himself on boxing day holed up in the Social Secretary's office with June. They're going over an endless pile of waivers they've gotten for everyone to sign after last year's fiasco.
Not to mention he's still mourning the Christmas tree.
"Why are you still mourning the Christmas Tree?" Alex pointedly sighs, rolling his eyes even though Henry can't see the action over the phone. "It's a tree."
"It's a symbol." Alex stresses, flicking through the various piles of paper before him.
"Of capitalist consumption?"
"Alright, just because you studied Gatsby." Alex huffs, "Hey, what do you think of Navy, pink and gold... ooor, Sage, pink and gold."
"Please tell me those aren't the colour options."
"What? Why?" Alex can hear the alarm in his voice. "What's wrong with them?"
"It's not necessarily that they're wrong, it's just..." Henry trails off and Alex can't decide if the prince sounds amused or concerned. "Well normally the Royal Event planners have these sort of details decided sooner."
"Well we can't all have Butlers to plan our events." Alex grumbles, growing more bitter at the sound of Henry's laughter.
"That is not what we have butlers for, and the royal family don't have butlers-"
"You have something fancier don't you." Alex states, grinning to himself.
Silence but Alex can hear the prince sigh in defeat. A startled laugh breaks from his chest, unable to hold back his triumphant glee.
"Oh my god you do."
"We have a butler but the technical– traditional– name was the page of the backstairs."
Alex snorts, "That is such an unnecessarily descriptive name."
Henry sighs, "Go back to planning your party."
"Don't need to, Nora and June have it covered. I've learned it's best to just do as they say, act as boots on the ground."
Every year this happens and every year he's surprised by the transformation and the army of ant-workers that create the dance floor, marquee, bar, lights, music system, red carpet photoshoot location and gods know what else.
The party is, officially, a fundraiser. And it generates so much money for charity and so much good PR for the First Family that even his mom approves. Christ even Zahra begrudgingly accepts its presence.
Alex on the other hand wants to love the event.
Well, that's a bit of a lie, he does enjoy partying, the music and lights and dancing, especially when he's drunk enough not to panic at the flashing lights and loud noises. But there's always that god awful overwhelming fireworks display that he dreads every year since he first experienced it.
"So shall I put you down as coming on your lonesome or have you got a plus one?" Alex asks, wincing as he realises that the girls have already sorted out the colour palette and he's actually looking at their update reports rather than issues he has to sort.
They like to keep him on minimum stress levels for this event. Which means he very rarely has to make big decisions for these sorts of events.
"Oh." Alex frowns, coming back to his conversation with Henry. Henry who sounds surprised by his invitation or maybe his assumptions.
"Unless you can't make it." Alex offers, already feeling deject. His mother and Zahra had asked one thing of him for this event; to get Henry here. Apparently people liked him a lot more than they liked Alex. "Shall I scratch you off the list? Replace you with some B listed celebrity child? I think that girl from Stranger Things is free—"
"Alex," Henry sighs, infinitely amused and annoyed. "Put me down as a plus one."
Alex hums, making a note to email Jane in international relations and that one guy whose handling their guest list. He should probably have Amy coordinate the guest list with Shaan in case there's any clashes.
He still remembers the party of two years ago when they accidentally invited a celebrity couple in the middle of their affair scandal, and the mistress, and the girlfriend's side hunk. It was carnage. Alex found it hilarious but June nearly had a stress aneurysm.
"Plus one huh." Alex comments, feeling a bit strange at the thought of Henry with a girlfriend. "I thought we were close Wales, not mentioning your girlfriend is bad form."
There's a sharp inhale over the phone then, "ha ha Alex" Henry replied sarcastically, "you know I'll be bringing Pez, he's been begging me for an introduction to June since he found out we were friends."
"Absolutely not."
"Oh yes, he's quite the charmer."
"Henry, don't you dare bring that womaniser near my—"
"Goodbye, Alex."
"Henry!"
｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･
The party is a go at 8pm and the trail of guests soon begins. First arrivals are always the first-time political types: a small gaggle of White House interns and most notably to Alex, the daughter of a first-term senator with a punk rock-looking girlfriend who Alex makes a mental note to introduce himself to later on. Then, the press team's political invites, and lastly, the fashionably late– minor to mid-range pop stars, teen soap actors, children of major celebrities.
With the party underway Alex can finally relax a little. Well not really much considering how on edge he gets with the fireworks. He does enjoy the party, he's a social butterfly and likes to befriend and chat with anyone. Which is funny because anyone who knows him knows he's a private person, unless he's with his people then he overshares.
His moms first election year had been terrifying, their first Fourth of July party equally so. He had been on edge all night, flinching at cameras and music until finally it all bubbled over at the fireworks display.
Now according to very accredited therapists and psychologists his mother had hired Alex had latched onto that event. Associating all the panic he felt in that moment to the sound and appearance of fireworks. An issue which had translated from the Fourth of July to the New Year's Eve Party.
He's improved a little, making some form of progress with each party. Enough that he can relax during the parties, have a good time and actually enjoy himself a little until the fireworks display. Maybe this will be the year he gets to forget about the panic.
Especially with Henry on the invite list.
They'd gotten closer since he was in England. The odd text once every few weeks had turned into daily chats which turned into nightly phone calls since Alex was always up late, burning the midnight oil which worked brilliantly for Henry's early morning meetings. He was five hours ahead of Alex, which made for some interesting phone calls when Alex was sleep deprived delirious and Henry was full of bleary eyed morning brain fog.
And now the prince was coming to America, finally they would be in the same time zone. Together, at Alex's party. The one he loves to dread. Oddly, he doesn't panic at the thought of Henry being there. A potential witness to the shit-show of Alex's emotional state.
It's coming up to 9pm and Alex is just starting to wonder when Henry's going to make his appearance, when June appears at his side and yells, "Incoming!"
For a second Alex finds himself reeling back, bewildered by the large explosion of colour that turns out to be Pez's bomber jacket. Alex swallows down his nerves, shaking off the flicker of panic. At the reminder of tonights flashing fireworks.
Not that he needn't have bothered worrying for in seconds he had missed the introductions and Pez was whisking away his sister to the dance floor, or perhaps the bar. He wasn't entirely sure.
And then it's just him and Henry and suddenly Alex finds himself nervous for an entirely other reason. It's so different, having him actually here, next to him. It's intoxicating, a heady idea that theyr were finally together.
Henry smiles in greeting, Alex grins back. Theyre clapping each other on the shoulders, bro hugging too tightly for bros and Alex catches sight of camera flashes to his side. It has him flinching reeling for a second but Henry is here now, holding hims fast before pulling back with an edge of concern only noticeable to Alex.
"How have you been." Henry's good, really good. There's not a single drop of concern in his tone, only joyous excitement to see a friend. But Alex knows by the way Henry is still holding onto his arm, still worriedly steadying him that he's concerned. "It's been too long."
Alex snorts, knocking back a drink he's doesn't know when he acquired. Henry tracks the movement.
"Far too long. You left me trapped June and Nora, I was hoping for a British rescue party at some point."
Henry rolls his eyes, letting go of Alex's arm and gesturing to the sofa and low tables lining the gazebo. For a moment Alex misses his touch, feeling the phantom heat of Henry's hand on his arm even as they stalk through the crowd.
Now there's an exhilarating feeling.
For a second he just takes it all in. Let's his fears slide away as he and Henry stride side by side through the masses. They part around them, staring wide eyed and Alex preens at the pair they make. The first son and the prince. He's never felt it before, that feeling that June sometimes describes, like he's the social king of the room.
He does now.
The confidence settles something in him, loosening him up until he's capable of laughing at Henry's jokes as they slide into the seats.
Alex knows they must sit there for hours. Waiters come and go, supplying them with a steady stream of food and and alcohol, but Alex no longer feels the need to drink. Not with Henry here. They just talk and talk. Catching up on the social happenings, talking about the latest book or tv show.
They even discuss the latest bake off season that Alex invertedly ended up watching live at ridiculous o'clock. He could have watched it on repeat. Henry would have gladly waited for him to watch it, if only to have someone to discuss it with. But it always made Alex's heart stutter. The knowledge that he was watching it at the same time as Henry. That they were thousands of miles apart yet still together in some way.
And them at some point he had started texting Henry during those shows. And then sometime after that he started calling until eventually Henry was propped up via facetime on his phone against his laptop screen as Alex sat in bed watching bake-off.
"So when do I get to see these famed fireworks." Henry grins leaning back on the sofa, arms spread out over the low backs. "I've heard they're obscene overhere."
Alex's smile wanes for a second and the pressure of the girl sat next to him suddenly turns uncomfortable. He and Henry had been joined by a few people over the hours, some they had entertained, others they had politely greeted before pointedly turning back to each other. Either way they had shooed off every interrupter in a timely fashion.
It was time for this lovely lady to go.
Thankfully it only took a few whispered words and an unfortunately false promise to call her and he was left alone with a now mildly concerned Henry.
"You'll head outside for the best view, closer to the lake so we get the reflection on the water as well." Alex comments, reaching for the glass of whiskey that had gone untouched for an hour. "June's ridiculously excited, it was cute at first and now it's just irritating. She and Nora actually hand picked every single–"
"-Alex."
"-firework and worked out all the timings and colours themselves because they are quite frankly micromanaging but also super dedicated–"
"Alex" Henry says more firmly and he avoids the prince gaze, sipping from his drink instead. "What aren't you telling me."
Alex only has to half force the bewildered expression he sports. "Nothing."
He makes the mistake of meeting Henry's gaze. The now very concerned pointed look the prince is sporting. It's annoyingly good at making Alex feel guilt. He clenches his jaw, once again looking away from the prince.
"Am I missing something?" Henry queries shifting in closer. They had been gradually getting closer throughout the night. "Because this doesn't feel like a politics, job issue."
Alex wince, "It's nothing."
"Alex-"
"I said it's nothing." Henry falls silent at his sharp tone and Alex immediately mutter a quiet apology. "It's– fine. I just don't..."
Alex downs the drink, no longer grateful he had stopped drinking for a while. There's no more foggy brain to cloud the fear. He clenches his jaw, twisting his head a little to stretch the suddenly tight muscles of his neck and shoulder.
"You don't like the fireworks." Henry fills in somewhat hesitantly. Alex finds himself nodding shallowly. "Ah."
They're quiet for a while, Alex feels awkward in the silence but Henry just seems to be thinking.
"Phillip's not a big fan of them either. We normally sit further away or watch from the music room– it's sound proof."
Alex is sure Henry is trying to make some kind of point but he's not sure what it is.
"We could sit further away." Henry supplies, sounding nervous and Alex swallows back lump in his throat. "I'm sure they would be better from a greater distance anyway."
"June and Nora want to get photos with you and Pez at the front." Alex supplies, voice monotone as he watches the crowd bustle and move around them. Their moving outside Alex realises. They have some time till the fireworks but everyone else seems to be eager for a good view.
"Of course." Henry mutters bitterly. "PR stunts always seem to get in the way."
The prince looks genuinely pissed off. Clearly annoyed that he and Alex have to go through ludicrous photo ops for the sake of an Instagram post that might permanently damage Alex. Well, that's a little bit dramatic but he always gets more dramatic when on edge and panicky.
"Right then, different plan." Henry states, straighten up into business mode. "Speed run photos when the first fire work goes off, then the whole group of us have a mock race and tell everyone we had a previous bet in place to reach the top of the hill."
"Henry, it's fine." Alex sighs, sounding completely defeated to his own ears. "I'll be okay. It't not a major issue anymore. Just something I have to deal with."
Alex ignores Henry's defeated look as they make their way outside.
The second the first fire work goes off Alex knows he's made a mistake. He's flinching in seconds, eyes closed as a soft tremble begins in his hands. Henry's concerned gaze is burning into his side, a constant presence grounding him in the moment.
Each explosion echoes in Alex's head, growing louder and louder each time one goes off till he begins to hear different sounds, different explosion echoing alongside them. It's an effort to keep his eyes open, to keep watching the display.
Pulling himself together for a photo op now felt unaccomplishable. Yet he still did it. Still grinned and faked every happy look as he slung one arm around Henry's waist and the other over June's shoulders.
The camera flash shocks him. Takes his breath away and then Alex is no longer there. He's no longer with Henry and June, he's with Marcus. Back at that school.
Only for a split second but it's long enough that he stumbles into Henry's side. Almost collapses against him as the photographer gives a thumbs up before moving onto to photograph the crowd of who's who.
June's staring at him, too drunk to comprehend Alex's panic. Henry at some point draped an arm over his shoulders, maybe for the photos or maybe to keep Alex pressed against his side.
"What's wrong!" June yelled over the din, still grinning from alcohol and glee. "Stop freaking out!"
"He's unwell." Henry interrupt smoothly, angling his body towards June who blinks in surprise at the prince's stern tone. "I'm going to take him back to his room."
The world is most definitely spinning a little, turning foggy and hazy as he tries desperately to focus on June and Henry as they seemingly argue. Or rather Henry looks like he wants to argue with an oblivious June.
The thought brings on a headache.
He can't think around the shots echoing in his ears. A tightening is slowly seizing his chest and even in his shocked state Alex can recognise the warning signs of a panic attack.
"You drank too much!!!" June cries, laughing and maybe he has because Alex can't feel his hands.
June move to shove him playfully but Alex is suddenly falling. No. Not falling, moving to the side. Being moved by Henry, as he's carefully shuffled through the crowd.
"Sober up June." Henry snaps and then his attention is back on Alex.
Which means Alex attention is back on Alex, and now he can really feel the tightness in his chest.
There are people talking around him. He registered the worried voice of Amy around his labored breathing. They're moving him and he winces back from the bright lights. Inside, they're inside.
But Alex can still hear the fireworks. Or maybe it's not the fireworks but something is making his ears ring.
He's being watched. He really doesn't like the feeling of having eyes on him but Alex knows their a security team clearing the halls, watching him in case he collapses. But all he can feel is Henry pressed against his side. Henry who refused to leave him and is now whispering something against the top of his head.
In typical Alex fashion that's all he can focus on.
At first it's fine, he can focus on the bright lights, the old musty smell of the White House and the tingling in his hands. But then he can feel where Henry is pressed against his right side. The warmth seeping through their respective suits.
He flinches a little, blood flow returns to his right hand creating a cramping agony that has him biting off a gasp, curling in slightly as he leans his arm away from Henry.
Which is no use because apparently to curl his arm into his chest requires shoving him back into the Prince.
"You're okay." Henry murmurs, as they pause for a door to be opened. "Amy–"
"We're nearly there Alex, I've contacted your mum."
"Wha-" His mother, why would they tell her. Alex might be asking them that very question. He might also be gasping, struggling to breathe.
He's underwater again. Drowning.
The grounding techniques are of no use to him now as every touch, sound and scent begins to overwhelm him. Alex slump back against Henry, eyes closed and lets the security team do whatever the fuck they want as they shuffle through the halls.
He remembers this feeling. Of sinking through water, or perhaps thick slime. Because cloistering. Hot and uncomfortable as it clings to Alex's skin. It's how he felt when Marcus was shot.
He remembered the sound of it. Not just the shooting but the banging as well. They had to break down the classroom door. Kicked it down and broke in with brute force. He remembered trembling at every slam of the door against the tables blocking the shooter's entry.
Pencil had clattered against the floor, falling one after another. Rubbers, jotters, books, bags, every shook or rattled or made a noise. Every whimper of his class mates was like a drum beat echoing in his head over and over. Each sniffle and muffled cry seemed louder than the last.
Then the door had splintered open and the screams had started. Movement had finally been forced into every frozen limb. Alex past and present both move. Flinch backwards with chocked screams as they slam against other classmates.
The fear builds and builds. Each second chocking Alex further as he feels the water rise and pool under his chin, trapping his body underwater, slowing his movements as he tilts his head. Desperate to keep his chin above the crash waves inside his head.
He begs for it to stop. Cries out for anyone. For classmates whose names he thought he had forgotten. He calls out for Marcus, for June, for Henry. He shakes, jerking and trying to twist out of the grip pinning him down.
He thrashes against the shooter. Against the invisible hands stopping him from reach Marcus, from reaching for the blood filled wound. He screams for them to stop. Begs them to help Marcus, to let him go.
Except when it stops it's worse.
Because Alex can feel it now, the blood coating his skin. Dripping off his hands and pooling at his feet. It's a thick oppressive weight that drags at his skin. He claws at it, desperately scratching at his arm, his neck, anything to get that– that sludge off of him.
But he can't, he can't move his hand. Something stops him.
He's flailing, kicking out, trying to crawl away from the body. From Marcus. Or maybe he's crawling towards him. He needs to stop the bleeding. He says as much, reminding himself out loud. Calling for his friend to wake up.
"Alex."
Alex whimpers, shaking as Marcus calls for him.
"Alex please."
He gasps, unable to breathe around the guilt clawing at his chest. There was nothing he could do. The blood loss was already too late, anyone could see that
"Alex."
There was nothing he could do.
"Alex!"
He startles awake, a horrific keening sound ripping from throat. Alex tips forward curling in on himself as he moans in agony. He tips to the side, straight into a hard body. Alex kicks out useless, eyes wild as he tries to break free from the arms that quickly banding around his chest.
"Breath! Alex it's me."
Alex attempts to stand, a fawn struggling to pull his legs under him. But those arms pull him back down, cradling him between a pair of legs and locking him in place.
He can't move. He can't move.
There's a familiar voice in front of him, another one outside.
"I told you to get out!" Someone snaps from above him, authority dripping from his tone. "Shaan remove them."
The firm order is answered with movement and a single protest.
"You have no authority–"
"I believe he was calling out for me, so I will be staying." The voice pausing, gripping Alex tighter against himself. "Amy and Cash will stay as well but the rest of you vultures will get the fuck out of this room before I create an international scandal that will cost you your jobs."
Henry?
"Yeah, I'm here. I'm here." He whispers, and Alex flounders around for a second until he can grip Henry's hand. "Your mother is on her way. She'll be here soon."
When did he get so hot? He feels feverish.
"Alex, I need you to copy my breathing."
He vaguely registers that he's been moved to sit upright, that there's something soft behind his bag. A plushness to the floor. There's no longer arms cradling him but Alex can feel Henry at his side.
"Henry?" He croaks out, voice thick and the prince squeezes his hand.
"There we go." Henry soothes, voice soft in a way that Alex has only heard on rare occasion. "Keep breathing, you're doing so well."
They stay like that. Long enough that Alex can open his eyes and take in the familiar walls of his bedroom. He's not given a chance to freak out at Henry being in his room. Amy is by his door, Casho no doubt outside it, and soon enough his mother is storming in. She's a whirlwind of concern and a frightened looks.
At some point Henry leaves. Alex isn't sure when. His mother is there, hugging him as they lay down on the bed. He sinks into her embrace, remember her wails when he first ran to her after the police released all the children.
His mother holds him, stroking his back as the room clear out till it's only them. Ellen Claremont-Diaz doesn't push him to say anything. Says nothing herself but he can feel her support.
"I miss him." Alex whispers. "Every day I miss him."
"It'll get better." His mother croaks.
"When."
"Doesn't work like that Sugar." She coos. "I wish it did but it's not kind of happy every after."
"Make it stop hurting." He chokes on a sob, chest staring and she grips him tighter. "Please make it stop."
"I'm sorry." His mother whimpers, and he feels her tears hit his forehead. "I wish I could. I'm so sorry."
His mother holds him long into the night. She lets him cry, cries with him as once again they're just a frightened mother and scared child, desperately trying to come to terms with the life they lost.