TW: disordered eating, mentions of past sexual abuse, depressed thoughts and actions, self-hatred, purging
I am...so sorry. This is a hard one.
X
The words "I'm sorry" didn't have a meaning to Alexander, not anymore. He'd heard them too many times. They carried nothing, held no sentiment.
"I'm sorry" didn't turn back the clock. It didn't fix his life, or rather, what was left of it. It didn't reverse what had happened, what would continue to happen.
It didn't wipe his memory, replace his brain with a clean slate and a have a happy life, Alex, here's the solution to all your problems!
"I'm sorry" didn't bring people back from the dead. He knew that all too well.
X
The only indicator of his spiraling mental health was the gauntness of his face, the way the shadows underneath his cheekbones seemed to multiply and spread with every skipped meal. Whenever John asked, Alex tacked it up to school.
"I guess I'm just not sleeping that well. Too many papers, you know how Adams loves those things."
"No time to eat between classes, I have Creative Writing right after History on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and then it's Poli-Science, plus you know how Professor Franklin loves to drone on and on. "
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Yeah, I'm good."
"Yeah, it's under control."
He'd perfected smiling and nodding, while on the inside he was withering. It was a mask, piled on makeup and illusions, like glamour from a fantasy novel.
Help me, he screamed. Help me.
On the outside, he beamed.
X
Alex had known it was bad when the stuttering in his chest started.
It would appear at seemingly random points-standing up after Creative Writing, walking across the courtyard, waiting in line at the cafe. He knew what it meant.
His heart couldn't take what he was putting his body through. '
If that wasn't a big enough warning sign, black spots and dizziness frequented his vision, tilting the world 90 degrees or more, leaving him swaying and nauseous, light enough to blow over if you breathed too hard. Bruises scattered across his skin, left from bumping into desks or other students.
I'm falling apart.
Instead, he forced himself together, like glue holding a cracked plate.
More organization, better classwork, distraction, distraction, distraction.
Talk less, smile more. Don't let them know what's going on behind the scenes, what happens when the curtain falls after the performance.
X
There were the breakdowns, of course.
The binges.
The 3 am, what-are-you-doing, oh-fuck-I-screwed-up-again mistakes.
It wasn't exactly a good thing that there was a McDonalds right down the street from his college.
"Can I have a Quarter Pounder, a large fry, a strawberry shake, and an apple pie please?" Alex ordered calmly. He'd been fasting for three days. His heart was thudding rapidly in short bursts, and he was pretty sure that he was about thisclose to going into cardiac arrest.
"That'll be $10.95," the cashier said, his voice dripping with boredom, and Alex dug out his wallet.
When he got back on campus, he ate quickly, scarfing down everything in under 15 minutes on the steps to his dorm, practically inhaling every piece of food he could get his hands on.
He headed up to his room, his stomach a lead bowling ball.
John was gone, out studying with a group from his Biochemistry class, so their room was empty. The only sound that he could hear was the quiet bustle of other students trekking up and down the hallway.
Paranoid, he turned on the shower to a full blast, keeping the water settings on cold. He chugged water from the sink, drinking to the point where he thought it was going to come back up even without his help.
Alex leaned over the toilet, jabbed his fingers to the back of his throat, and let his body do the rest.
Afterward, hand slick with vomit, shame burning the back of his throat rather than bile, he stripped off his clothes and finally turned the shower setting to warm.
He climbed in and let warmth cascade over his body. He was cold, on the inside and out, and the water felt good on the numbness that had rooted itself in his chest cavity.
He lifted his face towards the spray and pretending that the tears trickling down his cheeks were from the steady stream of water.
X
Every breath hurt. Every reverberation from the soles of his shoes up to his shoulders ached. Every beat, every thought, every motion, was excruciating.
Alex kept running.
His heart did it's usual shudder-thing, barely keeping up with his broken-down body, and he sucked in air, pretending that he wasn't about to pass out.
Because he wasn't about to pass out. He wasn't. He was fine.
I'm okay I'm okay I'm okay-
He took sick satisfaction from the pain coursing through his veins. He deserved it. It was worth it.
You deserve it, this is worth it, you deserve it, this is worth it-
His brain never shut off, couldn't shut off. Memories scraped by on a never-ending loop, drudging up unwanted thoughts and long-buried feelings.
Murderer. Fuck-up. Broken, shattered, broken, shattered.
His mind circled. Again and again and again.
I am broken. I am tainted. I am impossible to love.
I am broken. I am tainted. I am impossible to love.
X
"I love you," John whispered, and his fingers grazed the waistband of Alex's jeans, slipping his thumb underneath the material. Alex pushed harder, deepened the kiss, and let his hands slip underneath John's shirt. He broke away for a second and lifted the offending shirt over John's head, flinging it off somewhere unknown.
His own shirt was already off, strewn across the end of the bed, and Alex pressed himself back up against John, feverish and hot. John's hands played at his waist, dancing around his hips. His hands dipped underneath Alex's jeans, under his boxers, and just like that, there's a grimy brick wall pushing itself into his back and unwanted hands scouring his body and stop stop stop-
The word burst out of his mouth, splattered against the walls and the ceiling in neon colors, too bright to be ignored. John jerked away from him, eyes wide, mouth agape.
Alex pulled away, skin tight and burning, hot embarrassment rising inside of him.
"I'm sorry." Whispered words that coated his mouth, shame-filled and broken.
"What'd I do wrong?" John's face was open and worried, concern evident in his expression.
"It's-it's not you," Alex answered weakly, and he snatched up his shirt and tugged it over his head. "I'm sorry," he repeated and got up. He rammed his feet into his tennis shoes, grabbed his coat, and left before John could say anything, leaving him swimming in confusion and worry.
X
Alex's feet slapped the pavement. He didn't know where he was running, where he would end up. He only knew that if he was running maybe he could outrun his thoughts, too.
Brokenshatteredbrokenshattered-
God, he was so stupid.
Nicholas's voice dug its claws into his brain, sunk its talons deep into the crevices.
You'll never get rid of me. I'll be here, always.
Alex had proof that the dead could still be living.
Run away from your problems, Alexander. Run and don't look back.
His heart burned. His lungs heaved. His brain was broken.
He kept going.
X
The first time he passed out was in Washington's.
They were in the middle of their debate on the amendments, and Jefferson was babbling on about their First Amendment right and how they had rights over one thing or another.
Alex wasn't paying attention. He should have been, he knew that. But he wasn't.
Instead, he was focusing on the way the floor bubbled and pitched underneath his feet every time he shifted his weight. The way the room tilted and spun if he moved to fast or blinked the wrong way.
Washington's voice was static in the background. Alex heard his name somewhere in the buzz, and he looked up sharply.
Bad idea.
He clutched the podium like a lifeline as the lecture hall warped and twisted, swaying in a gentle breeze, and then he was on the floor with no idea how he got there.
Jefferson and Washington were crouched next to him, Jefferson's mildly concerned face and Washington's frantic one looming above him.
"Alexander, are you alright?" Washington never called him Alexander. Alex must have really freaked him out.
He sat up slowly, and Washington put his hand on Alex's shoulder. "Maybe you should stay down, son."
Alex shook his head, then winced as the room shook with it. "No really, I'm fine. I haven't slept very well the past few nights. I'm okay, I promise."
Washington's face was skeptical, but he let Alex up, helping him stand and lean against the podium.
"Per school rules, you're dismissed for the rest of the day. Go back to your room and catch up on some sleep. I don't want to see you in here tomorrow, either," he added, and Alex's shoulders slumped.
Jefferson helped him gather his things and walked him out of class.
"You gonna be okay walking by yourself?" he asked, and Alex was taken aback by the gruff compassion in his voice.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
Jefferson nodded and turned to head back to the classroom. He stopped short a second later and turned back around. "Take care of yourself, Hamilton. I don't want anything like this happening again if we work together on another project."
Alex nodded.
Huh, Jefferson caring. It was a nice surprise.
X
Alex dumped his bag onto the floor as soon as he got back into his room. A whole day without classes was ahead of him.
A whole day without work, without distraction.
He didn't know whether to be happy or terrified at the prospect of being alone with his thoughts.
After fooling around for twenty minutes on his phone, he set it down and looked around their room. It was messy-clothes strewn on the floor, pens and office supplies scattered across the desks, dirty coffee mugs stacked on top of Charlemange's tank.
Alex kicked off his shoes and got to work.
Pens were corraled back to their holders, clothes were put in the hamper, mugs washed in the common room kitchen (that he never used). In half an hour it was practically spotless.
That still left God knewn how long until John was done with classes.
Maybe Washington was right. Maybe he should rest.
He changed into flannel pajama pants and a baggy sweatshirt and crawled into bed, tugging the thick blanket around himself.
He was out in ten minutes.
X
This time, instead of nightmares, a hand gently shaking his shoulder woke him up.
Alex blinked, hazy after his nap. John was standing over him, a small, confused smile on his face. "What are you doing here?"
Alex ducked around the question. "What time is it?"
"Around two."
Holy crap. He'd slept for six hours.
"Why aren't you in class?" John repeated, and Alex struggled for a response.
"Professor called in sick. Gave us class off. I took a nap instead."
John nodded, then glanced around. "Did you...clean in here or something?"
"Yeah," Alex said, and sat up. "Why, is something wrong with it?"
"No, no, I just...didn't think that you'd have time." John took in the mug-less tank cover. "It looks good."
He paused for a second. "I'm heading over to the library to study, if you want to come with. Some of the people from my Biochem class will be there, but they won't bother you."
Alex shook his head, "Nah, I think I'm gonna go for a run."
Something in John's expression flickered. Disappointment, maybe. "Okay. Be careful." He opened the door and shot Alex a small smile before closing it behind him.
X
The night sky twinkled brightly above him, casting moonlight off of the snow. It was like someone had sprinkled diamonds over a velvet backdrop, hung the moon like a shining opal.
It was two in the morning. And Alexander was running.
For the third time today, if you counted running from your problems.
He'd run while John was studying. Done sit-ups afterward, no matter how much he was gasping from the painful thumping in his chest. Skipped eating, instead opting for a few cucumber slices and a whole lot of coffee.
He couldn't sleep. He guessed his brain had decided he had gotten enough sleep from the nap he took earlier. The coffee probably wasn't helping.
But now-now he was running. Flying through campus, fast enough that his thoughts couldn't follow him, fast enough that his mind went blissfully blank.
And then-
Bam.
Alex was sprawled on the ground, ice and blood caking his hands. The patch of black ice glinted in the moonlight, harsh and taunting.
He sighed and hauled himself up. Tomorrow he'd be covered in bruises-he was not looking forward to that.
A part of him wanted to lay back down, let the snow cover him and let his body sink into the ground, be able to finally rest.
Another, stronger part scolded him about how he needed to stop thinking about himself and start caring about others.
X
It was gloomy out, with gray, billowing clouds casting shadows over the campus. The temperature was a wonderful 25 degrees, and John had suggested coffee as a pick-me-up instead of just laying around waiting for Elijah to turn up the freaking heaters.
Snow had drifted across the sidewalks, and Alex regretted the fact that he hadn't worn boots when he stepped into a particularly high drift and it had gone over his ankles.
"I could carry you," John suggested laughingly, and Alex shook his head, letting pride take over. "Never."
The coffee shop was roasting compared to the weather outside, and Alex immediately stripped off his coat when they stepped inside. A short line snaked back from the cash register, and Alex got in behind a girl with curly auburn hair and heavy black glasses.
They ordered, Alex with his black coffee and John with some sugary latte mix, and headed to the counter to wait for their drinks.
"Yo, Hamilton."
John tensed and Alex turned around. Jefferson smirked at him, and Alex nodded to him. "Sup?"
"Do you know if Washington's graded our stuff yet or not? I want to know if I'm still beating you at the top of the class."
"Oh please," Alex rolled his eyes, "I'm at the top and you know it."
John's wary expression melted to a confused one, and Jefferson glanced over. "Laurens, calm down. We're cool, got it?"
He turned back to Alex. "So how're you feeling?" he asked. "You better not pass out again."
John's eyes widen and flicked over to Alex. "What?"
"Yeah, he passed out in History the other day," Jefferson said, oblivious to the growing tension.
John turned to Alex, "Why didn't I know about this?"
Alex's eyes darted between John and Jefferson's faces for a few seconds. "I-I-"
John's expression twisted, and Alex didn't fail to notice the way his hand tightened around his latte.
Jefferson's order was called, and he shouldered his way past Alex to snatch up his cup. "Gotta go. See ya later, Hamilton. Laurens." He nodded a little in John's direction and left, leaving John staring at Alex.
Without a word, John shoved past Alex and breezed out of the cafe, Alex hurriedly scurrying behind him. He had to jog to catch up with John, whose long strides ate up the ground at a fast clip.
"John, I-"
"Don't." John's voice was steely, icy cold and thick. "Just don't."
"John-"
John stopped and whirled around so fast that Alex almost plowed into him. His eyes were angry, so so angry, and Alex took a step back.
"I'm so fucking pissed at you right now, Alexander, I can't even talk, because I know I'll say something I'll regret. So please, for once in your life, just. Shut. Up." The last two words were yelled, echoing around the barren campus, and a few students turned to see where all the commotion was coming from.
John's eyes showed no guilt at yelling at the fragile boy, large, doe eyes tearing up as John glared at him.
Alex managed to swallow around the lump in his throat. "Okay," he said softly, and John coldly turned away.
The dorm was lively when they got back, with other students running around and chattering excitedly. John shoved past everyone and pushed his way up the stairs, Alex numbly following behind, his mind being thrown back to Nicholas.
If you open that mouth. One. More. Time, you can bet that you won't be walking for a week.
Why can't you just obey my orders like a good little puppy?
Jesus Christ, how stupid are you, running your mouth when NOBODY CARES?
The angry voice echoed around his consciousness as Alex stared at his worn shoes, John tanking open the door, slamming it shut when Alex timidly stepped inside.
The air was suffocating.
John flipped on the lamp when they got into their room, bathing the space in a harsh light, and threw his jacket on his bed. When he faced Alex his expression wasn't just angry anymore. Instead, it was a whole mixing pot of emotions-betrayal was there, of course, but it was saturated with concern, desperation, and a touch of terror.
"What the fuck is going on, Alexander?"
Oh, back to formalities, huh? Nick jeered from the back his consciousness.
Alex fumbled, words tripping over themselves. "I just-you know-not sleeping, and..."
"No!" The anger was back at full force, John's eyes snapped at him, crackling, "Stop the bullshit. Right now."
"I'm not bullshitting you!" Alex exclaimed, his voice shaking, and John shook his head, striding towards him.
"STOP LYING!" He screamed, grabbing Alex's wrist and squeezed, Nicholas flickering behind him. Alex flinched back, automatically bringing his arm up to protect his face. John stopped in his tracks.
Quiet settled over the room as both boys stood, broken trust laying in cracked pieces on the floor between them.
Fat tears trailed down Alex's gaunt face, arm still up as if John would strike him.
John's eyes widened and he dropped Alex's wrist in shock, finally aware what he was doing.
"Hey, Alex. Alex, look at me."
Alex lifted his watery eyes and stared at John.
"You gotta tell me if you're okay." John's voice was pleading. "Please, Alex. I can't-I can't do this anymore."
Alex thought back to the purging. The binges. The running. The calorie counting.
"I-I'm okay."
X
A hand slapped a paper down in front of him, a big, fat red F bleeding across the top.
"See me after class." Professor Abigail's voice was tight. Alex stared at the paper, cold waves of dread washing over him.
As other students filed out, he stayed seated, waiting for the inevitable. He didn't understand. His writings were good, great, even. So what was the problem?
Professor Abigail walked over, her heels clicking on the tile floor, and took a seat next to Alex, gazing at him with intelligent eyes.
"What's been going on here, Alex?"
The question took him by surprise, and he blinked uncomprehendingly. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Your works. They don't seem like you at all."
He'd written about happy things, kind thoughts and upbeat words. He was putting down positive poems and stories, pushing to make his words seem happy.
Anything that sounded the opposite of what was actually going on in his life.
Professor Abigail met his gaze."Is there anything going on that I need to know about? Are you alright?" The soft concern in her voice grated on Alex's pride. He set his jaw and straightened his posture.
"I'm fine."
She nodded, and Alex caught a smidge of disbelief in her eyes.
"Okay."
X
So fucking stupid, you fucking idiot-
How could he have let this happen? How had he screwed up this epically in such a short amount of time?
You really screwed the pooch on this one, didn't you, Alexander? Nicholas's sneering voice slithered into his conscious.
He'd worked so hard, so tirelessly, for what? So that John could be pissed. So that he could disappoint Professor Abigail. So that Professor Washington probably thought he was losing his mind.
Maybe he was losing his mind.
Was he losing his mind?
No, Alex decided. He knew what that felt like. To have the world drop out from under your feet and stop caring, to stop thinking.
This wasn't it.
But it was damn close.
God, he'd fucked up bad, hadn't he? He'd destroyed all of his relationships. John's trust in him was all but lost, Lafayette and Hercules were worried, he hadn't spoken to the Schuylers in weeks. He'd secluded himself, cut off the rest of the world, while he ran and wrote and avoided food like the plague.
He deserved punishment for it.
He wanted to hurt. He wanted to purge.
Alex shoved back his desk chair. John was gone, every time he came back he'd leave almost as soon as he got home at this point.
Like he can't stand the sight of you.
Alex didn't blame him.
He grabbed a cup and headed into the bathroom. Fuck the fact that he hadn't eaten in a day or so; if he wanted to make himself vomit, he would.
He turned the tap on and filled the cup, then chugged it as fast as he could. Kneeling in front of the toilet, he shoved his fingers into his mouth, as far as they could go.
His stomach screamed. His throat felt ripped and raw, torn to shreds from all the purging.
Fuck it, you deserve it.
Brokenshatteredrokenshattered-
He didn't stop, even when he was spitting bile. Even when he thought he was going to pass out.
Even when he saw the blood.
And he saw it, too. Bright, crimson red, splashed across the white porcelain.
It was the last thing his eyes processed when his heart seemed to burst in his chest, when it gave out under the strain.
The blackness came, rushing in to take him away.
X
Hey everyone! Wow, thank you for all the feedback and kind words, I love you guys so much! (But you already knew that.)
Hopefully the next chapter will be up soon, I just have to do some tweaking and editing.
And in case you didn't understand, Alex is starting to match up scenarios from Nicholas to John, causing him to imagine Nicholas controlling him, almost as if his past abusive lover is in his head.
And, sorry to everyone who wants to beat me for abusing the baby Alex, but the angst only gets angstier from here haha :D