Chapter Text
He looks for Alex every night.
But the boy doesn't show up.
And Washington is really starting to worry.
And yes, Alex told him he never wanted to see him again. But George isn't taking it too seriously. Because Alex had something in his eyes that looked like he didn't want him to leave.
And George isn't leaving.
So despite his good judgement, the man still goes to Brooklyn street. And he waits for the boy but he never shows up.
And then Washington goes home for bed.
But he doesn't sleep.
He just stares at the ceiling and wonders what Alexander is doing. He wonders if the boy is thinking about him as much as he is thinking about Alexander.
And in the morning at work, George functions regularly. But he seems to only just function . He doesn't smile or even speak that much.
Lafayette notices and asks him about it one day.
“Are you alright George.” He looks at him. Worry sketched on the lines of his face.
And though Washington wants to say no, he says yes.
And Laf looks at him again, clearly knowing the man is lying, but doesn't push it anymore.
“Alright. Reste forte.” He says. And Washington knows Laf thinks he’s like this because of Martha, his wife. But in reality it's Alexander that's making him feel just a tad bit sadder right now.
And that honestly scares him to death.
How this boy -that he knows close to nothing about- can affect him this much with only two weeks of speaking. How this boy- seventeen years younger than him- could relate to George on a personal level and make him feel like he’s known him his entire life.
It's scares him that Alexander can make him feel this happy.
He hasn't felt this happy in a long time.
He hasn't met anyone that made him feel this happy in a long time.
And he thought he was never going to.
When Martha died he was done. He swore that happiness wasn't a possibility and that no one was going to make him feel alive again. Not when he suffered the loss of the only person that has only ever understood him.
When Martha died, that hope died with her.
And he had planned on living his life like that for the remainder of his life.
But then Alexander showed up.
Alexander and his witty comebacks and comments. His brown eyes and raven hair. His ability to automatically understand everything. And his inability to shut up.
George was amazed.
And no, he isn't letting go of that.
No matter how much damage Alexander said he caused.
So that's why he still visits the street.
And that's why he’s here tonight.
The wind seems to be colder than normal. Crisp and stinging against Washington's skin.
He licks his lips staring at the coffee shop.
He doesn't want Alexander to leave.
He can't let him leave.
He hears a cry from below him and looks down to find the little black cat he has come to know as his own pet.
She looks up at him, green eyes glowing against the darkness of the night.
“Hey Mickey. Haven't seen you in a long time.” He speaks and the cat rubs against his leg in response.
And sure he might look crazy, talking to some dirty street cat but quite frankly, Washington is desperate.
So he tries.
“Do you know where Alexander is?” He asks.
And at first the cat does nothing. She just continues to rub against his leg.
“I missed you too Mickey.” George sighed and well it was worth a try.
They stand there like that for a few minutes. The cat purring and cuddling against George and George looking towards the dark streets in hope of Alexander showing up.
But he doesn't.
Suddenly, Mickey is moving away from his leg. Looking at him and crying.
He bends down to meet her, scratching at that part behind her ears he always sees Alexander scratch.
“What's wrong?” He asks. Because this cat is usually a happy cat. He’s rarely ever heard her cry like this.
And then suddenly the cat is running away. Into the dark street and George is staring at her confused.
He stands and turns around beginning his walk towards his car.
But then Mickey is back again, crying even louder.
She runs to George, circles around him then runs towards the street again, stopping.
She looks back at him.
And Washington realizes what she is doing.
He walks forward a few feet and she moves forward a few feet.
She wants him to follow her.
And at first he doesn't believe it. This can't be happening. This is dangerous, he has no idea what's over there and he really shouldn't trust a street cat anyway.
But Mickey is looking at him, and though he can't understand what she is saying he knows that she is waiting for him. And that cat has helped a lot so far.
He might as well go.
It seems stupid shit is already his forte these days.
So he follows the cat.
And for the most part Mickey keeps going, stopping every few seconds to look back and make sure Washington is following. And if he was walking too slow for her liking she would run back to him, circle around him and run back forward again.
And the deeper they go, the more Washington feels uneasy. The streets no longer look like streets, but are covered in garbage and big plastic bags. Well George thinks they're plastic bags until he gets close enough to one to see that it was actually a person in a blanket sleeping.
He hopes they're sleeping anyway.
Most of the buildings are condemned and broken and covered in graffiti with gangs names and signs George can't name. He sees people standing on the corners, he doesn't talk to them.
The street lights shine with a rusty orange contrasting against the black setting.
Every once in awhile someone is shouting a name in the distance.
And yea Washington is a tough man, so he likes to think but this is getting a little scary.
And there goes Mickey, walking a little bit ahead. Her tiny black head facing forward ignoring everything around her.
She slows down when she gets to a broken and beaten down house. The windows are covered with wood, and they have red “x’s” painted on them. The old yellow paint that covers the entire house is chipped and cracked and half gone, and the top of the roof looks caved in.
It's a real piece of shit in other words.
Mickey stops right in front of it. Looking at it before looking over to George.
“So this is where he lives huh?” George asks the cat and though he gets no response he knows the answer.
They stand there staring at it and the people surrounding it when someone walks up to him.
“Hello.” the boy smiles, and it's warm and a little sweet.
“Uh hi.” George stuffs his hand deeper in his pocket.
“What are you looking for?” The boy asks. And George quirks an eyebrow.
“A boy. His name-” He’s beginning to say but the boy laughs interrupting him and though his laugh doesn't sound like Alexander's, it's sweet enough.
“Say no more, I know the boy you're looking for.” He reaches into Washington's pocket and grabs his hand and begins to lead him towards the broken house and all George can do is stare with his jaw open.
He didn't think finding Alexander was going to be this easy.
What the fuck is going on?
He looks back and Mickey is still sitting there. Silently waiting for George to return with her Tail swishing behind her.
Good luck. Is what she's saying.
And no she can't speak, but George just knows.
When he is in the house it surprisingly has electricity. Though it has no heat and he’s quite cold. He honestly doesn't know how the boy leading him can walk around in just that tee shirt. He continues to look around realizing that it looks beat up on the outside, but it's fairly clean on the inside.
Well as clean as it can get.
There are people sitting around, music playing in the background and a fairly large supply of alcohol scattered all over the tables and couches.
There's smoking and even needles, and Washington may have seen someone doing cocaine, but he choses to ignore it.
He gets a few looks but other than that, no one speaks to him.
And the boy doesn't let go of his hand, he holds onto it tight yet gentle and George doesn't know why he won't let go.
He can follow him without his help thank you.
But nonetheless he says nothing about it.
They get to a room, and around them are noises and sounds George can't quite place.
He looks around for Alexander but he’s nowhere to be found.
“But I-”
The boy begins to shh George and again, he’s being overly sweet and George starts to panic.
“It's ok, everything will be fine.” He opens the door and when George walks in he’s met with a bed. He stares at it in confusion and then the boy is whispering close in his ear, lips feathering over the shell.
“I'm going to be the good little boy you're looking for.” He says sweetly and then 4 things happen at the exact same time:
- ) George realizes that this is a whore house.
2.) The boy's hand goes down his pants.
3.) George pushes the boy away abruptly and harshly.
4.) George figures out that Alexander is a prostitute.
The boy stumbles back hard, crashing into the wall and then falling down from impact.
And Washington doesn't even care.
Washington is freaking out.
“NO NO THIS IS ALL WRONG NO, NO I..” He doesn't finishes, his throat is getting dry and hes shaking his head, the realization filling in.
The bruises.
The tiredness.
No clothes.
Always hungry.
He's a prostitute.
This isn't Alexanders house. It's his office.
The boy stands up slowly, rubbing his shoulder in pain.
“Oh honey I know you're nervous, it's ok. This must be your first time.” The boy says calmly, like Washington didn't just shove him into a wall.
“WHERES ALEXANDER?!” He screams. Panic rising in him.
How could he have been so stupid?
So oblivious.
He can see the panic flash across the boys face.
“Oh you want him? Well you're going to have to wait, he's with another client.”
Client .
George feels like he’s going to be sick.
“I NEED TO SEE HIM NOW. NOW!” He doesn't wait for a reply.
Instead he rushes out of the room and begins opening up doors much to the people insides dismay.
“ALEX. ALEX WHERE ARE YOU!” And the boy is running behind him, grabbing onto his coat in horror.
“Please sir! You have to stop, you're going to get him into trouble. Please!” He’s pleading but George just can't stop, he won't. Not until he finds Alexander.
God he was so stupid. How could he not have seen all this?
“ALEXANDER!” He screams again and comes to the last door at the end of the hall.
He burst through it and is met with Alexander.
Or a horrible version of Alexander.
The young boy is tied up. Hands tied with rope attached to the ceiling. He’s naked and his body is littered with bruises. George tries not to look at his bottom half though he can see his feet are also tied up as well. And to make matters even worse, a man with a mask stands behind him, a thick whip in his hand.
But it's his face that makes George hurt the most.
A dangerous color of paleness, lips cracked and eyes closed. He has another bruise sprouting right below his left eye. He looks so beaten, so hurt.
It only takes a few seconds for Washington to react.
He storms in, ignoring the curses from the man and unties Alexander without a word to anyone.
“The fuck are you doing man!” The guy in the mask spits. And George still ignores him, currently working on the rope at Alex’s feet.
“HEY! I said what the fuck are you doing?! I paid for him and you're gonna have to wait your turn like everyone els-”
Before the man can say anything else, George is walking out, Alexander in his arms and the boy running after him again.
He doesn't look at the people staring at him in the hall. He looks forward, lips in a thin line as he walks with the boy draped over his arms.
He’s so light.
“What are you doing!” The boy screams out when Washington comes outside of the whorehouse.
Washington doesn't answer, instead he takes off his coat and scarf and shoes and begins dressing his unconscious friend.
“Please, tell me where you are taking him. Don't….Just don't hurt him please!”
George looks up, anger bubbling inside him but then the boy is staring at him in fear and horror.
His round brown eyes wide, mouth open. Freckles scattered all across his face.
He looks no older than Alexander.
“Are you his friend?” Is all Washington asks and the boy shakes his head excessively, curls bouncing all around his face.
“Yes, he’s the only thing I have, don't hurt him please. We’ll give you your money back, a free session anything please just don't hurt him.”
And Washington flinches at that.
“I'm not going to hurt him.” He finally says after a few beats of silence.
The boy stays silent.
“I'm just going to make sure he is alright.” He looks down at Alexander, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear.
He looks back up at the boy and meets his eyes.
And though he still looks scared, he shakes his head.
“I...ok.” He finally gives in and Washington stands with Alexander in his arms.
“When he wakes up, tell him John took care of everything.” He says silently.
And George tries not to get uncomfortable at that.
“Yes, alright.”
Then he is walking away.
A black cat following him, and a sick boy in his arms.
When Washington does get home, he feels less sick than before.
Thanks to the heat, Alexander isn't as pale as before. But he still is pale. He’s breathing though so Washington tries not to think of the worst.
He slides through his door, holding it open with his foot for Mickey to run in. He decided to bring her. He just couldn't leave her out on the streets by herself. He did it with Alexander and now look where he’s at.
The cat disappears but George isn't really paying attention. He cranks up the heat and undresses Alexander.
He woke up in the car, but passed back out while George carried him to the apartment.
He runs a bath and puts the boy in, trying to clean him. He tries to avoid the welts on his back but they're so red and angry, Washington thinks even he can feel it.
So he gets out the fist aid kit, and cleans up Alex, wrapping his wounds.
After all of this he gets the smallest items of clothing he can find in his apartment and dresses him. And the boy keeps coming back into consciousness only to pass out again.
When he’s done he puts Alex in his bed, tucks him in and turns out the light.
He’s cleaning up when the cat reapers staring at him pointdly.
So he feeds her.
Then cleans up.
And he’s numb while he does all of this. Says not one word. Thinks not one thought. He just does it.
He stands in the kitchen, gripping the counter so he won't fall over and he just can't understand anything. He doesn't know what just happened.
He swallows.
Pours a glass of water.
And after much debate, he goes back into the room.
Alexander looks much better than before, though he still doesn't look too good. And Washington wonders if he should wake him up.
He does.
He gently shakes the boy until his eyelids flutter and when they are cracked George speaks.
“You need water. Drink this.” He simply says, not trusting his voice to say anything else.
And at first he’s prepared for Alex to say something, anything. But the boy says nothing. He just takes the cup, drinks a good amount of the water, gives it back to George then goes back to sleep.
And Washington just stares numbly at him.
He watches the boy, for a few minutes, just to make sure Alexander is really alright.
When he can hear him lightly snoring, Washington leaves.
He goes back to the kitchen, pouring his own self a glass of water and tries to figure out what's going on.
But the only conclusion he can come to is that he has a sick pale prostitute sleeping in his bed. And a dirty black cat eating food next to his foot.