TW: suicidal thoughts/actions, talk of past self-harm, eating disorders, panic attack, implied smut (yeah sorry not writing smut since Alex is underage, not to mention that these were actual men at some point and that's sorta creepy)
Am I posting this at 3 am? Yessir.
X
The railing was smooth underneath his palm, freezing cold in the icy wind. Water thundered down below him, and the spray flew high into the air, sending up a chilly mist that created a cloud-like effect over the river.
Alex put his foot on the bottom rail and stepped up, then swung his other leg over the edge. He sat, hands braced out beside him on the top rail, and let his legs swing over the chasm.
He blinked out into the abyss.
He felt absent. Floaty. There wasn't anything there, really, not anymore. Just absence. He was hollow, but that wasn't the right word, was it?
It's never the right words.
One step.
One push.
One fall.
He was going to die.
That was something Alex knew. He knew a lot of things. He knew that the Mariana Trench was 36,070 feet deep. He knew that the Latin word for blue was caeruleum. He knew he had depression.
He knew he was going to die. John was going to die. Hercules, Laf, Eliza, Angelica, Peggy. They would all die, at some point. Some sooner rather than later.
Maybe you will be sooner.
It didn't matter.
He was going to die.
Or maybe he was already dead. He'd been out here enough, been in this same spot, many times. How did he know he wasn't already dead? How did he know he hadn't jumped? Is John already in a crisp black suit, staring down into a casket? Are Johns tears falli-
Don't think about John.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Silence surrounded him, so different from the noise and life of the college.
He didn't feel alive. He felt empty.
Was this real?
Was any of this real anymore?
Footsteps crunched on the path behind him, crackling in the snow.
"Alex?"
John.
He stayed silent. There was nothing to say.
A hand landed on his shoulder, covered in a glove. John's glove.
Alexander focused on the snow melting through his sweater, cool on his feverish skin.
"What're you doing here, Alex?" John asked softly, and Alex shrugged.
It was quiet for a few beats. Then-
"Do you ever think about what it would be like if we were gone?" he said suddenly, still staring out into the darkness.
John's eyebrows furrowed down into a concerned look, and his eyes flickered between Alex's frail hand on the rail to the rushing water down below.
"What do you mean?" he asked carefully, and Alex shook his head a little, a blank expression on his face.
"I dunno, just...gone. Like-like dying or something...Or nothing, I guess. I don't know. If you were just gone," he rambled, and a stab of fear sparked in John's chest.
"Alex," he said sharply, and reached out, grabbing Alex's wrist in a vise-like grip, anchoring his other hand on the railing. "You're scaring me. You need to get off the railing, okay?"
Alex finally turned his head and looked at him. John's heart skipped a beat, shuddering in his ribcage.
He looked dead.
His eyes were glazed with tears, dull brown and shadowed. Blank.
Something drifted across them, a weary understanding of some sort, and he slowly swung one leg over the rail, then the other, and dropped to the ground, John's hand still holding tightly to his wrist.
John practically tackled him, wrapping his arms around him in a tight hug. His heart was thudding in his chest, thumping with fear and adrenaline, and he realized he was shaking.
Alex stood stock still, arms dangling limply at his sides as John stepped back.
"Lex," John said carefully, "I think you need to go back to Dr. Evie, okay? This isn't good behavior. You need help." He watched Alex's face, gauging his reaction.
"'Cause I'm broken, right?" Alex asked simply, his voice emotionless, and John's heart shattered. He gripped Alex's shoulders and forced Alex to look at him.
"No. No, Alex, no, that's- that's not true, okay? You are not broken," he said fiercely, and Alex blinked at him, eyes refocusing. "You just need some help. Dr. Evie can help you, Alex, okay? She can help you." His voice cracked, and he swallowed down tears, fear coursing through him.
"Please, Alex."
The pleading hurt in John's voice was what managed to partially break through the fog in his brain, and Alex nodded, his head bobbing heavily on his shoulders.
"Okay."
X
Therapy is bullshit.
You sit in an office, breathing cool, circulated air, while a privileged white doctor picks through your brain and tells you to fix shit you can't control, all the while charging extravagant amounts of money to pick through said brain.
Or, at least, that was Alex's view.
He liked Kelsey, he really did. She was probably his favorite therapist he'd had.
But.
He felt like he was stuck going in circles.
And god, he fucking hated circles. His brain circled all day, on a never-ending conveyor belt of obsessive, intrusive thoughts.
They had a routine: Alex would walk in, they'd have a small chat to warm up, and then Kelsey would move into a deeper subject, and Alex would flounder. He didn't know what to say. What to do. He couldn't fucking talk, for Christ's sake.
He had closed himself off from acknowledging things for so long that he physically couldn't acknowledge them now. It was like trying to chisel his way through the Great Wall of China with a spoon.
So he sat there, nodding and trying to talk and failing, and eventually, the hour would be up, and he would curse the fact that he couldn't get the words out. They were stuck like a rock at the back of his throat.
So he just...stopped going to therapy.
Instead, Alex would take Laf's car, or a taxi, or walk on a warm day, on a similar path towards Kelsey's office, then dart into a coffee shop or bookstore along the way, and conveniently lose track of time until his hour was up.
He knew it was bad. He knew he was failing himself.
He knew he was failing John.
He didn't really care.
X
The days passed slowly, dragging into an abysmal blend of silence and darkness. John was trying; Alex was not. He had given up, let the fraying rope slip through his fingers as he fell, down down down, deeper into the blackness that reached up to grasp at his ankles.
John had developed increasing anxiety about leaving Alex alone. He feared for the day that he was going to walk in and...and Alex just wasn't going to wake up this time.
This led to John abandoning his study groups and frequent outings in favor of holing up in their room with a pile of textbooks, always keeping a watchful eye on the small, frail figure curled in the heap of blankets.
"You can leave, you know," the blanket heap muttered one day, voice muffled under a layer of fleece.
John glanced up, pushing curls out of his face. "I know. I'm fine right here."
"It's not going to happen again."
Probably.
The word hung silently in the air between them.
Alex meant it, though. Or at least, he thought he did. It had scared him, that feeling of blankness, where he just forgot what happened. He hated the feeling of being out of control of his body, his mind.
"I'm fine here," John repeated stubbornly, and the blankets had just rustled as Alex rolled over.
Their friends made an effort to visit, especially Eliza, who had to stop by twice a day anyways to change the bandages on Alex's forearms until the cuts finally had healed enough.
Laf hung around as much as he could, tugging on the curls behind his ears anxiously as he babbled on, switching between French and English without even noticing as Alex nodded along silently, only throwing in his input when prompted. He blamed himself heavily for what had happened, John knew, and seemed hell-bent on making up for it in any way he thought he could.
John pulled him aside one day, out in the hall after he noticed the tufted patches behind Laf's ear.
"You okay?"
Laf's hands immediately went up to his hair before he sheepishly dropped them and fiddled with the leather bracelets tied on his wrist- the ones Alex had given him.
"Oui, yes, I am- I'm fine."
John locked eyes with him. "He's going to be okay."
They both tried to will it into existence.
X
Alex woke up to the phone ringing.
He closed his eyes and pulled the blanket over his head, hoping that it would just roll over to voicemail and he could go back to dozing in his nice, warm bed.
The ringing blissfully stopped, and he snuggled deeper under the covers, drawing the blankets around his shoulders.
And then the ringing started up again.
Alex groaned and threw back the blankets, emerging from the mound like a zombie rising from the dead. He fumbled for his phone and, seeing John's name, hit answer.
"Yeah?"
"Is this Alexander?" A timid female voice asked, and Alex frowned and sat up straighter.
"Yes. Who are you and why do you have John's phone?" He asked, his voice cold.
"Um, this is Martha Manning, John and I take Advanced Ecology together. He asked me to call you, he seems like he's having a...a panic attack or something."
A long, colorful line of swear words began running across Alex's brain like a ticker at the bottom of a newscast. "Okay, where are you?" He asked, scrambling out of bed and looking for his shoes.
He found them hidden under a limp sweatshirt discarded on the floor, and he tugged them on hurriedly.
"Drake Hall, Science building two." Alex grabbed his coat and his keys, running out the door at breakneck speed.
"Okay thank you, I'll be there in a minute." He hung up before she could say another word, sprinting down the hallway and flinging himself down the three flights of stairs before bounding out of the front doors and taking off down the sidewalk.
It normally took about five minutes to get to the science buildings, but Alex made it in two and a half, out of breath and heart hammering shakily in his chest. He yanked open the door and rushed through, eyes frantically scanning the hallway.
He saw them immediately: two figures crouched on the ground, one huddled close to the wall and one speaking quietly in hushed tones.
Alex hurried towards them, slowing as he got closer until he knelt down beside the shaking figure of John, who had his legs drawn up to his chest and his head resting on his knees.
"Hey," Alex said softly, and John raised his head, tear tracks glistening on his freckled cheeks.
"I can't breathe," he gasped. "I can't breathe, I can't breathe, Alex-"
"Yes, you can," Alex said firmly, and he flashed back to months ago, to this same scenario. "Can I touch you?"
John answered by shakily reaching out a trembling hand, and Alex took it, holding it gently in his own frail, bony hand. The contrast shocked him, John's freckled, strong fingers against his skeletal ones, and he forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand.
"Focus on me," he said, and he started rubbing circles into the back of John's hand, feeling veins and muscles ripple under the skin.
"Breathe, in and out, okay? Just breathe."
John took a shaky, gasping breath, and Alex reached up to gently tuck a curl behind his ear. His sleeve rode up, revealing an inch of bandage peeking out, and Martha's eyes flickered to it. Alex looked at her with a glare that could have melted steel, and she hurriedly dropped her gaze back to John.
John's hand clutched Alex's like a lifeline, and Alex turned back to the situation in front of him.
"Alex."
Yeah, honey?"
John's eyes lifted to his, and a tear started in Alex's heart.
"I'm scared."
"I know. It's going to be okay," Alex reassured him, and John shook his head, his breath wobbly.
"I don't want to lose you too."
His heart shattered.
"You're not going to lose me," he promised, and for the first time, he meant it, really meant it.
"I want to go home," John whimpered, and Alex nodded.
"Okay, sweetheart. Let's go home."
He helped John off of the floor, wrapping an arm around his waist and gripping John's hand in his.
They made their way to the door slowly, and Martha held it open for them.
"Thanks. For everything," Alex said, and she nodded. "Just make sure he gets some rest," she said.
It was a slow walk back to the dorms, and when Alex finally pushed open the door to their room, John sat down on the end of his bed and put his head in his hands.
"You okay?" he asked gently, and John looked up at him, expression weary.
"Why haven't you been going to your therapy appointments?"
Alex froze. "What?"
"I got a call, Alex," John sighed, his voice tired. "From Kelsey's office, wondering why you haven't shown up to your appointments."
Alex sat down. "And that's why you panicked."
John rubbed his eyes, "I can't stand by and watch you destroy yourself anymore."
"I-"
"No," John interrupted, voice cold. "I don't want to hear it. I'm just...I'm going to take a nap. Don't wait up, okay?"
The exhaustion in his voice broke Alex more than it would have if John had just yelled at him, screamed, threw things around. But Alex always seems to fuck up and hurt John.
You haven't changed.
"Okay," he said, his voice small.
He moved to his desk chair and worked on his laptop until he was sure John was asleep, then changed clothes and put on his running shoes.
I'm not going for long.
This isn't self harm.
I'm just getting exercise.
The campus was quiet, mostly deserted, and the cold air felt good. He weaved through the sidewalks, not keeping track of where he was going, until he thought his legs would give out. He stopped by the cafeteria, ate a full meal for the first time in days, went to the bathroom, purged, and headed back to his room, chest burning.
John was up, reading his Ecology book and taking notes at his desk, his curly hair fanned out and gripped by his calloused fingers.
"Hey," Alex said, and John turned towards him. His face fell as he took in Alex, sweaty and pale in his running clothes.
"Alex-"
"Lets go get pizza," Alex cut him off, bending over to untie his shoes. When he straightened John was looking at him with a confused expression, his mouth slightly open. "What?"
"Pizza," Alex repeated, pulling off his sweatshirt and shaking his hair out of its pony. "I'll take a shower and we can leave."
John's eyes narrowed slightly, trying to figure out if it was a trap. "...Okay."
"Great," Alex said, and he headed into the bathroom, leaving John's head spinning.
X
The pizza place was warm and smelled like heaven. The scents of doughy crust and melting cheese filled the air, and the smell of garlic floating off of the breadsticks would have made anyone's stomach growl.
Alex's palms were a sweaty mess by the time they got seated.
He ordered a water, then scanned the menu, growing increasingly frustrated at the lack of calorie counts by each item.
"Alex?"
"Hm?" He raised his head and forced a smile, hoping John couldn't see the anxiety written all over his face.
"You want to go half and half on something? I know I can't eat a whole pizza by myself," John joked and Alex nodded.
When the waitress came, John ordered first, putting what seemed to be dozens of toppings on his side of their large pizza.
The waitress scribbled everything down, then turned to Alex. "And for you, sir?"
"Cheese with green peppers, please," he said, and John looked at him.
"That's it?"
Alex shrugged, "What's wrong with green peppers?"
John shook his head, and Alex didn't fail to catch the flash of disappointment, borderline anger, on his face. And so the fragile heart cracked. "Never mind."
"That'll be out in a few minutes," the waitress chirped, and she bounced off.
Alex fiddled with his napkin. Overhead, tinkling music filled the silence.
"So..." John immediately trailed off, watching Alex.
What do you say to the person who's quietly imploding?
He rambled to fill in the space. He had had endless practice keeping his drunk father distracted from the rest of the household.
"I have this essay due this week on the biology of turtles. Did you know that their shell is part of their bone structure? And that they can breathe through their butt? I did, but I know a lot of other people don't. I guess that's just what happens when you own a turtle and almost no one else in your class does. My professor owns a turtle, actually, a box turtle, and her name's Norman. It's kind of a funny name, but she thought the turtle was male until the first vet visit..."
Alex nodded along, half-way listening, mostly thinking about how he was going to get out of this food-related predicament. Most of his mealtimes were spent wondering how he was going to avoid the actual meal.
He was startled out of his thoughts by a pizza being plunked down between him and John, steaming hot and deliciously fragrant.
He broke out in a fresh sweat.
John started piling slices on his plates, accidentally dripping melting cheese onto the tablecloth, and Alex watched in a semi-frozen state, heart thumping erratically. He willed his hand to reach out and put pizza on his own plate, three of the smallest slices.
They tasted so. Good.
Greasy, cheesy, burn-your-tastebuds-off good. Heavenly good.
Guilt flamed through his chest, hot and quick as he bit into a slice.
It was downhill from there.
He felt like he was watching himself from above as Not-Alex piled as much pizza onto the plate as it could hold.
And then ate all of it.
John's expression grew lighter and lighter with every piece Alex scarfed down, until he was practically floating. It was like a physical weight was being lifted off of his shoulders.
When the check was laid in front of them and John snatched it up, Alex began chugging water, gulping down the entire glass.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom, okay?" He said, standing up, and John nodded, distracted with signing his name. "Okay."
The bathroom was a single stall, with a door that locked, and Alex couldn't even believe his luck. He tied back his hair, fell to his knees, and muscle memory took over.
It all came up, even though at the end he was shaking like a leaf and clutching the toilet with one hand like it was a lifeline. His chest was on fire, he couldn't breathe, and there was blood in the toilet bowl.
Black spots danced across his vision, swarming at the edges like and unwelcome flock of bats, and he sat back, blinking hard.
Slowly, the room came back into focus. His eyesight cleared. He could take a breath without feeling like he was dying.
He stood up, scrubbed his hands, and stepped out. John was waiting with his coat in hand, smiling. "Ready to go?"
Alex nodded, grabbed his jacket, and thanked the waitress on the way out.
It was a bitterly cold night, with a sharp wind howling through the tops of the sparse trees scattered around campus. They took a shortcut, taking the sideway that bordered the science buildings.
John was cracking jokes, smiling and holding Alex's hand, occasionally looking over at him with such happiness that it shone out of his face.
That, of course, was when his heart went wonky.
Like, wonkier than usual.
Alex was laughing, harder than he had in a long time. So hard that he couldn't catch his breath, and tears were beginning to form in his eyes.
His heart seized like a vise, weakened muscle fighting against the strain he'd put it through. Sharp, stabbing pains went through his arm, and he gasped..
He stumbled, felt his heart stop for a microsecond. Alex slammed his hand to the wall, searching for stability as the ground bucked beneath his feet and he bent at the waist, blood trickling from his mouth as he hacked up nothing.
He was aware of the fact that John was screaming, that he was falling, and that the sky was a perfect shade of velvety blue-black with glittering stars that looked like scattered diamonds as he fell to the ground, the breath rattling in the back of his throat.
He landed on his hands and knees, focusing on the way snow dug its way into his palms as a grounding mechanism. Blood flecked the earth around him, a spray of poppy against a stark background. John was kneeling next to him, and Alex leaned into him, the world slipping in and out of focus as he gasped uselessly, "I'm fine, I'm fine, I'm fine," blood staining his chin and sweatshirt as punctuation.
John was crying, and Alex vaguely realized he was talking, even as he stumbled to his feet and promptly fell again, his legs collapsing beneath him.
He caught the word "hospital" as he once again staggered upwards, willing his legs to hold. Miraculously, they did, and he shook his head adamantly, ignoring the way the earth spun dangerously, "I'm not going to the hospital."
"Alex, you're coughing blood," John said frantically, and Alex kept shaking his head. "I'm fine," he repeated, and as if to prove it his heart gave a jolt in his chest.
"You purged," John accused, the realization hitting him like a train. "Goddamnit Alexander, are you trying to fucking kill yourself?!" Tears were streaming down his face, and Alex felt a flash of hot guilt amid the meltdown going on inside his body. He tried to reach out, for any sort of grounding from his boyfriend, but in the freckled mans anger, his hand was slapped away. "How the fuck am I supposed to trust you with you do shit like this!?"
You are pitiful.
Unlovable.
"I'm sorry," he managed to whisper, and then his vision whited out, replacing everything with a haze of displaced memories.
He knew John carried him back to their dorm, that he called Evie and Kelsey, and that he sat with Alex for a very long time, in complete and total silence.
And when Alex woke up, he felt something snap into place.
He couldn't keep doing this to himself.
And he sure as hell can't keep doing this to John.
He turned his head to look at John, whose face was pale. Dark circles shadowed his eyes.
"I want to get help."
X
He gets put on Zoloft.
Alex doesn't know why he hasn't been put on Zoloft before, because it was one of the leading antidepressants, but since he'd been put on so many meds already, he was just tired of feeling like a lab rat.
At least Zoloft came without side effects (except for weight gain...which he was totally cool with. Totally.)
And in a few weeks, he began to notice something.
He had energy.
He could get out of bed, he could go to class, he could read the assigned chapters and finish the essays he was required to write.
He started going back to Creative Writing, which he had to gather the courage to do for about an hour before class started.
Professor Abigail's eyes widened considerably when she spotted Alex, and he offered her a tight, apologetic smile.
As she walked past him, her fingers brushed his shoulder. "After class," she said quietly, and he nodded.
Once everyone had filed out, she sat, observing him for a second.
"I didn't think you were going to come back," she said finally, and Alex shrugged. "Neither did I."
"So what changed?"
"I got my life back in order."
She nodded and started sorting the stack of papers on her desk. "Good to hear."
"Look, I'm- I'm really sorry about what I said," Alex said. "I was in a really bad place."
Professor Abigail set down the papers and looked up, "I know. I figured that out when the nice, extremely smart student you were became a very sad person who didn't want to talk to people."
"I'm really sorry," he repeated, and she shook her head, smiling a little. "It's okay, Alex. Just take it slow, focus on you. I want you to be healthy, above everything."
X
"I'd like to speak with you after class."
Washington's voice offered no explanation, just a flat sentence and nothing more.
Anxiety sparked in Alex's chest. Washington never spoke to people unless they were in serious trouble.
When he stepped through the doors of Washington's office, his professor motioned to the chair situated in front of his desk. "Please, have a seat."
Alex sat, every part of him on edge, heart pounding.
Pounding... he's alive
Alive is good
His vision was replaced with Johns wide smile as they filled out the prescription, his bubbling laugh-
"How are you doing, Alexander?"
The question caught him off guard, and he blinked, sending John away from his mind. "I'm sorry?"
Washington smiled a little, "How're you doing?"
"I'm fine, sir."
"Really? Because your grade shows differently." Washington raised his eyebrows.
Alex shrugged guiltily, glancing down at his hands, folded in his lap. "I was going through a rough patch for a while. I'm...doing better now."
Washington nodded. It was silent for a beat.
"When I was your age, one of my best friends died in a car crash. I was in the passenger seat," he said suddenly, and Alex looked up.
"I'm so sor-"
Washington held up a hand, "Ah, not finished. I blamed myself for the longest time- survivors guilt," he explained. "I took a semester off of my sophomore year of college to get my head screwed back on right. And when I got back, my professors all acted differently. Some were forgiving, some were not. Now, I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through or make any assumptions. But I am here to say that I will always be here to help you, even when you feel like I'm not. Not only because it's my job, but also because I know what it feels like to hit a wall and not know how to get around it."
He paused for a second, looking down at the sheet in front of him. "Looking at your grades and test scores, I can honestly say that you are one of the smartest students I've taught. But the past month or so your work has dropped considerably. I can't wave those through or drop them to boost your grade, but I can give you an extension."
He looked up to meet Alex's eyes. "I want you to pass this class, Alexander, but only if you're willing to work for it."
"Yes," Alex said immediately, relief flooding through him. "Of course, yes, thank you, sir."
Washington sat back, nodding. "Alright. You have two weeks. I hope to see what I know you can produce."
Alex stood up, hooking his bag around his shoulder. "Thank you, truly. I won't let you down."
Washington smiled, "I hope not."
X
Slowly, very, very slowly, Alex began to feel happy.
Well, not quite happy. But better.
He didn't want to hide in bed all day. He could get his schoolwork done in a mannerly time. He no longer fantasized about jumping off of a bridge.
The scars on his arms were becoming just that: scars. They weren't reminders of past mistakes, they were just there. It was like they had always been there.
He started talking to Kelsey more and more often, choosing to not skip appointments. And surprisingly, it did seem to make a dent in the river of swirling thoughts going on inside his head.
He started to push himself.
To get past the things he was holding back on, just because of what had happened before.
Which led to...
"Make love to me," he murmured breathlessly, and John's eyes searched his face questioningly. "Are you-?"
"Yes," Alex interrupted, and he fumbled with John's belt, fingers slipping against the leather.
(CW)
He paused when John's shirt was off, marveling at the freckles that were scattered across his golden skin.
"You are so beautiful," he said, trailing kisses down the side of his neck, and John's hands tugged at Alex's shirt.
He froze briefly when it was gone, swallowing at the sight of Alex's torso, the pale skin that stretched tightly across the bones before was gaining some color, his stomach was getting healthily slim, he looked human. The only marring being the lines of scars on his wrists and hips.
"Oh, baby..."
Something filled Alex, something so deep and sad that he didn't want to acknowledge it, and so he pressed his mouth to John's instead, shoving the feeling down, down, down.
He wanted to be lost in this, this thing that he'd denied himself for so long, and he wanted to forget what was wrong with him, what made him work the way he did.
He stared at the ceiling as John kissed his neck, fingers wrapped in John's curls, and closed his eyes, sending up a prayer.
Please, let this be normal. Let me have this.
Let me prove I'm not broken.
Timid fingers slipped off his shorts as John rested his forehead on Alex's shoulder. Alex gripped curly hair and kissed the freckled collarbone of his lover, encouraging the fingers with a light roll of his hips. John pulled away before shucking off his shirt and sweatpants.
The man towering over Alex was the most alluring man he has seen. Eager hazel eyes matched those of a puppy, the smattering of freckles covering his face, shoulders, and thighs. The wild curls framed the handsome jaw that could only belong to John Laurens.
"You have no clue how gorgeous you are, do you, John...?"
Alex took pride in the light blush that covered the taller man. He was lightly tossed back so that his head was leaning against pillows, John crawling between his legs to continue the heated kiss. Alex wriggled out of his boxers, breathing heavily as the kiss broke. muffled moans and huffs soon filling the dorm room.
The two men tangled together in a perfect example of bliss.
X
"Was this your first?"
Alex was nestled in the crook of John's arm, head resting on his bare chest, both wrapped between twisted sheets.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "You?"
"Nope."
"Really?" Alex said, looking up. "Golden boy John, didn't expect you to do that while in your father's house."
John laughed lightly, the motion making Alex's head shake. "Yeah, no. I think I did it because of dad. Sort of flipping him off, you know?"
"Yeah, I get it," Alex nodded. He was trying to count the freckles on John's chest, to no avail.
"You?" John asked, and Alex lost track.
The subject turned somber.
"It was after Nick's funeral," he said after a moment. "Like a week later. I was high and drunk. I wanted to prove that nothing had affected me. But that just made it worse, I guess. I hated myself, hated my body. If anything, I was just trying to destroy myself."
"I'm sorry," John murmured, and he stroked Alex's hair, the motion calming and repetitive.
"It's not your fault," Alex said, but the hole inside of him yawned briefly, and he swallowed, forcing it down.
"I'm not that person anymore," he said firmly, and focused on the warmth of John's freckled skin against his.
"No, now you're my person," John said, and wrapped his arms around Alex.
Alex closed his eyes.
For the first time, in a very long time, he felt safe.
X
Okay, how's everyone doing? I know, I was MIA again, but I lowkey had to focus on just... being okay for a while. Take a break, hit the reset, all of that good stuff.
Speaking of reset, I am... (drumroll, please)...7 MONTHS CLEAN FROM SELF-HARM! WOO-HOO!
I'm very proud of myself, not gonna lie. Some days it's very hard, especially with summer and bikini season arriving, but most days I'm learning to live with my body and how to love it again.
And phew boy we all know what's coming.
My heart goes out to anyone going to the George Floyd Riots, anyone who is being affected by the rising racism in this country. I am also praying for anyone affected by PrideFall or police brutality. This year, I am ashamed to call myself an American, because at this rate, we will not last.
Everyone is deserving of love and rights, I just don't understand why it's so hard for people to understand this.
Please stay safe
Love, K