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“I thought we were done with this!” Alexander growled as he paced around the waiting room. “I thought--hasn't there been enough shit without this ?”
“It's only appendicitis, Alex,” Hercules replied, placing a hand on Alexander's shoulder.
“Jon is being carved up like a Christmas ham , and you want to talk about only ?”
“Yes!” Lafayette said from their chair, “You're acting like he's in a coma or something! He's not been poisoned , he's not dying , so calm down. ”
“Do you--do you not care ?” Alexander exclaimed, and seemed about to continue when both Laf and Hercules rounded on him.
“Jon is important to other people too, Hayley,” Hercules said.
“Just because we're not threatening to burn down the hospital doesn't mean we don't care,” Lafayette snapped.
Alexander glared at them for a moment before deflating. “I'm just--I’m worried, okay? I can't-- can't lose him, ” he admitted, and for a moment he looked and felt very small.
“And you're not going to. Just… take some deep breaths, Alexander,” Hercules reminded him, “This is Jon we're talking about. You think some little virus attacking his most useless organ is going to take him down?”
“No, but…”
“No buts,” Lafayette said, “Jon will be alright. Have faith, mon ami.”
Alexander nodded and slumped down in a chair. “It's like… it's like someone gets off on our suffering,” he sighed, “Can't we just catch a fucking break?”
“Growth doesn't come during ‘breaks’,” Lafayette said, “Strength comes from conflict.”
“I think I'm strong enough as is, thanks,” Alexander snapped.
“Woah, calm the hell down, both of you,” Hercules interrupted. “Laf is just trying to help, get off their back. Laf… let Alexander be scared, alright? He's allowed to feel bad while his boyfriend is in the hospital.”
Alexander sighed. “I know he'll be alright,” he said, “But… fuck , it's still scary, y'know? We-we thought it was a stomach ache! He just hadn't felt well for a few days, we thought it might be a bug or something, and now they're cutting him up like a fucking arts and crafts project!”
“We know, Alex,” Lafayette said, their whole demeanour softening as they pulled Alexander into a hug.
“I'm so fucking done with watching as the people I--the people I love suffer,” Alex said, and he would deny the tears that came after until his dying day.
OoOoO
“Jon?” Alexander asked as he entered the room. He didn't know what he was expecting, but Jon, sitting up in bed and flipping through The Economist was not it.
“Alex!” Jon said, grinning at Alexander. “Dude, I was wondering when you were coming in.”
“The nurses said you were sleeping it off,” Alexander muttered in lieu of an actual explanation.
“You okay?” Jon asked, putting down his magazine and sitting up a bit more.
Alex laughed at that, running a hand across his face. “Am-Am I okay?” he asked, “Jon, four hours ago, someone was digging around in your stomach like they were looking for fucking buried treasure!”
“Yeah,” Jon agreed, “So? Sweetheart, I'm fine . All stitched up and everything.”
“You-you could've died!”
“I actually, literally could not have died. My appendix hadn't even burst yet, babe,” Jon explained. “They don't even have me on strong pain meds. I won't even get high from this.”
“But--Jon!”
Jon sighed. “C’mere,” he said, patting the side of his bed.
“I'm not supposed to--”
“Alexander Manuel Hayley, name one time you did what you were supposed to do,” Jon pointed out.
Alex stared at his feet.
“Exactly. Get your ass over here and kiss your ailing boyfriend,” Jon ordered.
Alexander, for all his confrontational tendencies, knew when a battle was lost, especially where Jon Latham was concerned.
He let his fingers curl into Jon's hair, and didn't even try to fight the smile that grew on his face.
“Where you really that scared?” Jon asked a moment later, his hands resting on Alexander's arms.
Alex blushed and looked away. “Shush,” he grouched.
“Dude. I'm fine , really,” Jon reassured.
“I know ,” Alexander replied, “I know, seriously. I just… I was afraid I'd lose you.”
Jon pulled him closer. “Alexander,” he whispered, “You're not going to lose me.”
Alex glared at him even as he sunk into Jon's embrace. “I already did,” he mumbled.
“Alexander…”
“No, Jon,” Alex cut him off. “I did . I lost you. And now I have you back, and fuck it all if I'm going to lose you again,” he argued.
“You're not going to ‘lose me again’, Alex!” Jon all but shouted.
“You can't promise that!”
“Well, you can't promise it either, and if either of us have to worry about ‘losing’ someone, it's me! When was the last time you ate, Alexander?” Jon threw up his arms.
Alex narrowed his eyes. “Don't make this about me!” he argued.
“So you're allowed to be worried about my health, but I'm not allowed to be worried about yours?” Jon countered, and Alexander threw his hands in the air.
“That's not what I mean!”
“Then what do you mean?” Jon inquired, “Huh? Tell me! I'd really like to know!”
Alex seemed to be biting his tongue and restraining himself from punching something. “You died ,” he finally spat. “You died, and you left me alone. I got a letter from your father saying you had died over some fucking rice dispute . Do you know how much that hurt? I've been shot, too, Jon. That letter? That hurt more any bullet. So fucking pardon me if I don't ever want to go through that again.”
“And I don't ever want to have to go through it in the first place,” Jon snapped, “You barely eat, you only sleep when your body begins to literally shut down, you work longer than is healthy by any standards--you work more than the president of the fucking United States --”
“Don’t compare me to that asshole,” Alex snapped. “He doesn’t work, period. Literally anyone works longer hours than he does.”
“Stop changing the subject.”
“That's literally what you did!”
Jon sighed. “Look,” he said, “we're getting nowhere. I'm okay now, Alex. I'm fine. I'm alive, I'm healthy, we're together. Shouldn't that be what we're focusing on?”
Alexander leaned against his side. “Yeah,” he conceded.
“Hey. Guess what, loser?” Jon asked.
“What?”
“I love you, dumbass,” Jon said affectionately.
“I love you too, shithead.”
OoOoO
“Alex?” Jon asked as he rubbed his eyes. “Babe, no offence, but what the fuck are you doing?”
“Uh, making breakfast?” Alexander replied as he pushed his glasses up his nose.
“Dude. Last time you tried to cook, you burned the noodles . How the fuck do you burn noodles , Alex?” Jon asked as he wrapped his arms around Alexander's waist.
Their kitchen was small, but it worked. Fuck, their whole apartment was small, but it was comfortable and it was theirs . They didn't need a big kitchen, anyway. It it served its purpose as more of a coffee station than an actual kitchen.
Alexander glared at Jon over his shoulder. “I'm an Economics major, not a Culinary Arts major, you dick. Just be glad I'm making you food in the first place,” he teased.
“What's the occasion? You just decided some poor, innocent eggs needed tormenting?” Jon replied, letting go of Alex in favour of grabbing the coffee pot.
“We're celebrating! You didn't die!” Alex said, turning to kiss Jon's cheek. “Look. I made bacon. And eggs. And it's all only a little burnt.”
“I'm so… proud,” Jon deadpanned. “And how much of this are you going to eat?”
“Um…” Alexander muttered, “I might have some bacon?”
“ Alexander .”
“What? That's-that's food! It counts!” Alex argued.
“ One piece of bacon is not a suitable breakfast, Alex,” Jon said, clearly trying to keep his cool.
“Two pieces of bacon and some coffee?” Alexander bargained.
“Two pieces and an egg.”
Alex huffed. “One and an egg, and only because I love you,” he said, “Final offer.”
Jon sighed. “I'll take it,” he conceded.
“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Latham,” Alexander purred, winking at Jon over his shoulder.
Jon ignored him and began searching for the creamer. “Did you remember to buy hazelnut why you were out yesterday?” he asked.
Alex rolled his eyes. “Sorry, Your Highness , I was too busy sitting vigil next to your hospital bed,” he drawled. “You're going to have to do without your princess creamer for a day.”
“If anyone here is a princess, it's you ,” Jon shot back. “I can picture it. You, in some big, fancy-ass castle with bodyguards and shit.”
“You realise I literally fought in a war against the monarchy, right? If I remember correctly, you were there too,” Alexander said.
Jon just rolled his eyes.
“Plus, if I'm a princess, what does that make you? My knight in shining armor?”
“Absolutely,” Jon replied, “Here to save you from your lack of self-preservation skills.”
“Hey! Says you , Mr. Died-At-Twenty-Seven,” Alexander snapped.
“I resent that statement.”
“And I resent the fact that you think I could ever be a part of a monarchy ,” Alex replied haughtily.
“I only say it because you already are royalty,” Jon said with a smirk, “A royal pain in the ass.”
Alexander gasped and clutched his chest. “And here I am, making you eggs!”
“Charred eggs.”
“ They are not charred .”
“The smoke coming from your pan would say otherwise,” John shot back.
Alex whirled around and turned down the heat of the stove. “Shit shit shit ,” he yelled, rapidly fanning the eggs.
Jon was laughing so hard he hit the kitchen counter and immediately yelped in pain.
“ Fuck !” he cried, turning and leaning his back against the counter.
“Jon?” Alexander asked after getting the food away from the fire and setting aside the pan. “Are you okay? Did you hit your head anywhere? Did you hit yourself anywhere else? Shit , should I call the hos--”
“Alex--Alex, shut up ,” Jon growled, holding his side. “Call Hercules, tell him to come pick us up.”
“Oh my god,” Alexander whispered, “You--I’m calling an ambulance!”
“Do you know how expensive those things are? Just--call Herc, okay? It’s not bad. I just think I ripped my stitches,” Jon said through gritted teeth.
“Why don’t you have health insurance , you idiot? Trump hasn’t gotten rid of Obamacare yet, you can still be covered by your parents--” Alex babbled as he flipped through his contacts.
“My parents don’t have health insurance! No one will cover us because my brother--you know what, never mind. Just call Hercules ,” Jon snapped.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Alexander said, pressing the phone up to his ear. “Hercules! Dude, I need you to come pick up Jon and I-- yes , right now! No, it can’t wait three minutes! I don’t care what you and Laf are doing, Jon could be possibly dying and he refuses to call an ambulance because fucking America won’t invest in universal healthcare, even though --Hercules Murray, he’s bleeding all over the kitchen , put your pants on and get here ! Bye!”
“Do I… do I even want to know?” Jon asked.
“No, no you don’t,” Alexander said, grabbing a damp rag. “Move your hand,” he ordered.
“What? No, Alex, really--”
“ Move your fucking hand, Jonathan Latham .”
Jon slowly pulled his hand back. It was red and sticky, and the spot he had been covering was soaked through with blood. The sight made Alexander feel woozy.
“Okay,” he muttered, “Okay, take off your shirt.”
“Alexander, while I appreciate it, now is really not the time--” Jon tried to joke.
“ Would you just do it ?!”
Jon winced. “I don’t--I don’t what to tear them further, and raising my arms…”
“Alright,” Alex replied, pushing up the shirt himself. He pressed the cloth down on the sutures--they were ripped alright, but Alexander didn’t say anything.
“Weren’t you a med student?” he asked, “Shouldn’t you know what to do?”
“In high school, two-hundred and fifty years ago !” Jon shot back. “Just… let me hold it down. Do we have ace bandages anywhere?”
“The bathroom,” Alexander said before rushing off to grab them. He was back a moment later and quickly began wrapping them around Jon’s torso.
There was the buzz of an intercom.
“Hercules is here, c’mon,” Alex said, wrapping his arms around Jon’s shoulders as the hurried out to the car.
OoOoO
“I cannot believe this!” Alexander said as he paced in the exact same waiting room as he had the previous day.
“Alex,” Hercules said,, “People rip their stitches all the time ! It’s not a big deal! Jon will be fine !”
“He lost so much blood --”
“Alexander!” Lafayette finally snapped--because, as always, they went where Hercules went--”If you don’t stop acting like an overdramatic child , I’m taking you home.”
“Fuck off, Laf,” Alex growled, sinking down into a chair.
Lafayette tugged at their hair. “Jon is not made of glass ! He’s not going to die! You’re acting as if it’s the end of the world!”
“ It might as well be !” Alexander shouted.
“ Why ?” Lafayette asked, “Why is a minor medical emergency cause for so much panic, Alexander?”
Alex stopped.
For a moment, it felt as if all life had been sucked from the room.
“It always starts off minor ,” Alexander finally whispered. “A headache. A stomachache. A bruise that just doesn’t fade. A fever. Next thing you know…”
Hercules and Laf had him pulled into a hug within a second.
“What happened, mon ami?” Laf asked.
Alexander simply shook his head. “It’s not important. Not anymore.”
“Alex,” Hercules said, “You don’t have to tell us, man, but fuck , you’re, like, manic !”
Alexander sighed. “Foster family. I was sixteen. They had a daughter, he name was Katherine… I’d been with them for five months, it was my longest placement yet, and then Ren started feeling sick. We thought it was probably just the flu…” Alex was quiet for moment. “It was like my mom, like Rachel, all over again. One moment she was fine, the next she was in the hospital. Stomach cancer. Her family couldn’t cover the medical costs and support a ruly foster kid. I left two months before she passed. I… I didn’t even get to go the funeral.”
Lafayette and Hercules both sucked in a breath.
“I loved that kid. She was scrappy, tough, funny. Only eight. She wanted to be an astrophysicist,” Alexander chuckled. “And it started out as a stomachache .”
“Dude…”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Hercules demanded.
Alex shrugged. “I try not to think about it. There’s… there’s no changing it now. Fuck, there was no changing it even then. It does no good to dwell on the past,” he explained.
“But then Jon got sick…” Hercules trailed off.
“Yeah. Yeah. So, yes, I’m fucking scared, and I’ll probably always be scared,” Alexander said, “And I hate it.”
“Jon will be okay, Alex,” Laf reassured. “They’ve already solved the problem. The only reason this happened is because you made him laugh too hard . It’s not… It’s not like Katherine.”
“You can’t live your life getting scared every time someone gets sick, Alex. You’ll never stop worrying,” Hercules added.
“Worrying means you suffer twice,” Alexander said. The other two stared at him.
“Okay, I know that’s probably some deep, philosophical nerd quote that I should know, but I don’t so,” Hercules said finally. “You feeling better, buddy?”
“One, it’s Newt Scamander , so kindly fuck off. Two, don’t call me buddy . You’re not my dad,” Alex snapped.
“He feels better,” Lafayette said with a roll of their eyes.
OoOoO
“Okay,” Alexander said as he opened the door to their little apartment, “I'm proposing at least two weeks before we go back to the hospital. Sound good?”
“I dunno, think you can refrain from running your mouth and getting the shit beat out of you for that long?” Jon quipped. Alex flipped him off.
“I've gotten in like, three fights since you met me,” he argued.
“Yeah, three a month .”
“Fuck off.”
Jon rolled his eyes and kissed Alexander’s cheek. “When was the last time you ate?” he asked.
“I had some skittles at the hospital,” Alexander replied, “And they're fruit flavoured, so it's healthy.”
“And before that?” Jon asked, narrowing his eyes.
“What was the last thing we ate before we headed for the hospital?”
“ Alexander !”
Alex threw up his hands. “I'm fine , Jon! I was actually about to go make a sandwich!” he said.
“You mean, you are now that I'm nagging you about it,” Jon countered.
“Possibly. Maybe. Yes. Look, it doesn't matter because I'm going to eat now . It's fine ,” Alex defended.
Jon lowered himself onto a barstool. “Y’know, someone I might not be around to tell you to perform basic human functions. Then where will you be?” he asked.
“Dead, probably,” Alexander replied casually, “Seeing as I don't see you and me splitting up unless it's over my grave.”
Jon looked bewildered. “One,” he said slowly, “That was the most morbid marriage proposal I've ever heard. Two, that's really not a healthy outlook.”
“I've never been accused of making good life choices,” Alex said.
“ Babe ,” Jon said, “Seriously. I'm worried about you.”
“And I've been worried about you for the past, like, week! Just… cut me some slack, alright? I'm not, like, starving myself if that's what you're worried about,” Alexander snapped.
“That's not--Alex! I get that you don't like people getting sick, really, I do. I get it. What happened with Ren, all of that--I get it . But that doesn't mean you just stop taking care of yourself!” Jon said.
“Who told you about Ren?”
“Herc? And Laf? Dude, I'm sorry. That… that's some shit. But do you really think she'd want you to waste away like some corpse?” Jon asked.
“I don't know , Jon,” Alexander snapped, “Because she's dead .”
“And you'll be dead too if you don't stop acting like a dumbass!” Jon shouted, throwing his hands in the air.
The room was silent for a moment, and then:
“I’m sorry,” Alexander said quietly, his eyes lingering on the floor, “I’m sorry I worried you, I’m sorry about all this, I really am.” He took a breath. “But you have to trust me . I know what I’m doing. I’ll eat later, I’ll be fine, you know me. I work too hard, I’m exhausted, and I bounce back.”
Jon looked like he was about to say something, but bit his tongue. A moment later he said, “I’m not going to just stop worrying about you, Alex. I can’t .”
“ Trust me .”
Jon stared at him for a split second before sighing and resting his head against Alex’s. “I’ll work on trusting you if you tell me when you start feeling panicky, okay? Mutual effort and all that jazz, right? Deal?” he asked.
Alexander thought it over for a moment.
“Deal.”