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Alex has to ask for directions twice to locate the tiny lecture theatre tucked into the basement of the Law building. He never had any classes there during first or second year, and this one he hasn’t actually attended in person. Until now, anyway.
Dr. Washington doesn’t know, but somehow he seems to get it. All it took was a tentative email and a brief meeting during office hours and he’d given Alex a pass to do the course from home. He’s immeasurably lucky in that regard - can’t imagine the hell it would have been to come into this room twice a week after the breakup.
It’s fine now, though. Really. Alex reaches into his bag and his fingers brush against a thick wad of paper that constitutes 80% of his final grade.
He pushes the heavy door open with his shoulder and steps into the near-empty lecture hall. He technically doesn’t need to sit the lecture, but camping on the hallway until the end of the class so he can hand in the assignment would be a bit weird. Alex takes a seat in the back row and plays with his phone as people start to gradually filter in.
If Jefferson notices Alex in the back row as he walks in and takes a seat next to Madison, his eyes don’t linger. Alex keysmashes into an old grocery list in the text app of his phone until the tweed jacket-clad back is completely turned towards him. Thomas has always believed in dressing for lectures like he would dress for work, while Alex rolls in with a cardigan thrown over his pajamas half of the time. They had some playful banter over it back when playful disagreements were a thing in their relationship.
Washington does clearly spot Alex as he walks in, gives him a smile and a nod. Alex raises two fingers into a small wave.
“Glad to see so many of you made it here despite of the nice weather,” Washington says as he starts the computer and sets up the presentation. Even without a microphone his voice carres easily to the back. “Unless anyone has any questions about last week’s material, why don’t we jump right into it?”
The lecture isn’t bad - Washington’s lectures never are. Alex has forgotten how good he is, completely present and charismatic in that way any good lecturer has to be. He doesn’t meander or stray from topic, but also has that approachable air to him that makes people want to ask questions. Alexander feels that familiar itch to raise his hand and make a counterpoint to a ridickulous statement some kid in the front row spews, but settles on scribbling a snarky remark on the back of his notepad instead.
Jefferson doesn’t. Alexander’s eyes are forcibly drawn to him (his hair has gotten longer) along with the rest of the room when he speaks with that purposeful nonchalance of his. Once he’s done decimating the kid in the front row, Washington moves the lecture along. Alexander’s eyes catch Madison’s hand landing on Jefferson’s knee before he manages to look away.
They’re happy together, or so it seems. It doesn’t punch the air out of Alexander’s lungs the way it used to anymore, but of course he wonders. If it’s the same way for James as it was for him. If he should do something.
Probably not. Jefferson holds Madison’s hand in public and calls him ‘darling’ and ‘babe’. Their social medias are flooded with pictures of their trips back to Virginia, date nights, cheesy Valentine’s day posts. Jefferson told Alex that he just doesn’t do that obnoxious couple shit, doesn’t know how to show affection because of his previous bad relationships and verbally abusive daddy, but seems like he’s over all that now. He adores Madison loudly and publicly.
And it’s really no wonder, when Alex thinks about it. James is worth it. James isn’t loud or difficult or prone to outbursts, so it makes sense, Alexander supposes, that Thomas treats him well.
He inhales shakily and re-focuses on the slide Washington is talking about. If only the lecture was about something a bit more riveting than contract law.
When the hour finally draws closed Alex pretends to take a long time to pack his things and only approaches Washington once the crowd surrounding him has dissipated.
“Thought I’d hand this in in person,” Alex says and hands the essay over. He even managed to make the formatting look nice this time around.
“I’m very much looking forward to reading it,” Washington says and it sounds so genuine the tips of Alexander’s ears heat up.
“I also just wanted to say thank you again for, uh, letting me do this course from home,” he says and smiles sheepishly.
Washington’s face softens. “You’ve proven yourself hardworking and trustworthy.” Propping the assignment under his arm, Washington leans to the side and smiles sympathetically. “I hope your condition is improving?”
The shame of it twists at Alexander’s insides like a dough mixer. The worst part is that Washington probably knows this unnamed ‘condition' that supposedly makes it exhausting for Alex to attend morning lectures is totally made up. He never even asked for a doctor’s certificate or specifics. Maybe it’s because as a veteran he recognizes a traumatized person when he sees one or maybe Alex is getting paranoid and overthinking it.
Even now it’s almost like Washington’s gaze is saying ‘tell me what made you afraid so I can take care of it’ but it could all just be in Alexander’s head so he doesn’t risk it.
“It is,” he says, smiling. “I’m starting to feel a lot better, thanks.”
Accepting whatever information they just exchanged between the lines of the small talk, Washington nods and smiles back. His face lights up abruptly. “I promised to lend you that book on pro bono work months ago but never followed through, did I?”
“Oh yeah,” Alex grins. “I’ve been trying to get my hands on it but it’s always on high demand in the library, and they won’t order more copies.”
Washington picks up his bag. “I’ll pop into my office to fetch it, wait right here.”
“Oh, I can-” Alex starts to protest but Washington is already halfway out of the door. Damn those tall people-legs, honestly.
He shifts awkwardly from one foot to another in the empty lecture hall and digs his phone out of his pocket. He hasn’t texted Aaron today at all.
Alex: “can’t believe you’re not here the one time I go to class”
Aaron’s reply was so quick he must have been on his phone already. “How was it?”
Alex: “good, dr. Wash is amazing. he gave us great tips about the exam, too bad u missed them x”
Aaron: “Not my fault I had to cover a shift, babe”
Alex: “here I thought dating me was a full-time job”
Aaron: “Oh it very much is. Lose the attitude and I’ll find a way to make it up to you when I get home.”
Oh, a full period after a suggestive comment. That means Aaron is in a particular mood. Excitement warms Alexander’s cheeks as he ponders on a reply, but Washington’s return interrupts his creative process.
Or so he thinks based on the sound of the door sliding open, but it’s not Washington who steps inside. Jefferson smiles like he wasn’t expecting to find Alex in the empty lecture hall and Alexander’s fingers wrap tightly around the phone in his grip.
“Oh, hey there.”
Logically, Alex never expected the skies to tear open and the earth to shatter when he would hear that voice and have those eyes on him again. He’s not expecting anything grandiose and dramatic, but maybe he was sort of afraid that some dam would break and all those feelings would come flooding back like they never left and he would get washed away with the tidal wave of fear and longing.
He’s just another human, Alex thinks and fixates on a bit of fluff stuck on the front of Jefferson’s jacket. Nothing earth-shattering happens and none of it feels particularly real, anyway.
“I hope you’re well,” Thomas says and steps into the room as Alex doesn’t return the greeting. “It’s been awhile.”
There are a few feet and a stray chair separating them and Jefferson’s movements don’t really indicate that his goal is to approach Alex as much as stray further into the room.
“Do you?” Alex manages to ask. It doesn’t really pack a punch, but it’s leagues better than sounding like he’s afraid.
A flash of honest surprise crosses Jefferson’s face. “Of course I do.” He leans his hip to the side of the desk and crosses his arms. “Sure, we had our differences and I wish things had ended in a different fashion between us, but I have no ill will towards you, Alexander.”
Why is this happening? Alex has written dozens and dozens of unsent letters to Jefferson, accusations and vitriol and pleas, all inadequate attempts at capturing the extent of the damage he did to Alexander’s head (as if making Jefferson understand would make him care). And now they’re in an empty, outdated lecture hall at 10 am and Alex can hear people laughing on the hallway and it’s all just too goddamn banal to say any of it without sounding ridiculous and dramatic. The way Jefferson fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt while Alex reels on the inside makes him feel ridiculous and dramatic. He wants to curl in on himself and never come out.
“You know,” Jefferson says quietly and casts his eyes down to some stray paper on Washington’s desk, “some of the happiest moments in my life happened when we were together.”
Alexander swallows and fails to stop himself from thinking about that time Thomas was horrified to hear Alex had never been to a fair as a kid and drove two hours just to get him to one that same night and they’d shared cotton candy and kissed on top of a ferris wheel and Alex had whined the entire time about the clichéd-ness of it all, but watching Thomas lose gloriously in a basketball shooting game had made him laugh more openly than he had for months.
“Like that time you bashed his head into a kitchen counter so hard he lost his speech for a week?”
Hercules. He pushes off the door frame with a dark sort of calmness on his face and steps protectively between Alex and Jefferson.
“I hope you understand that it’s all thanks to Alexander’s goodwill that you’re still able to walk,” he says, low and quiet.
Jefferson’s eyes harden. He puffs out his chest and steps forward and the stance makes Alexander’s pulse speed up until it rings in his ears. “Was that a fucking threat?”
“Babe?” Another voice at the door, this time Madison’s. His dark, cautious eyes take in the scene and he walks up to Thomas slowly.
“C’mon, we’ll be late.”
Madison takes Thomas’ hand and Thomas’ shoulders relax immediately. He follows his boyfriend to the door without resistance.
Alexander’s eyes meet Madison’s before they leave and in his mind he’s screaming we used to be friends, don’t you remember? Do you know what he did to me? Do you care?
And Madison looks away.
Hercules looks at Alex from the corner of his eye like he wants to allow Alex privacy. “You alright?” Maybe he has a lecture in this room soon and just happened to be nearby, or maybe his mom friend-senses were tingling. Both scenarios are equally likely with Mulligan.
Alex looks down and realizes his fingers are wrapped tightly around his friend’s shirt sleeve and lets go abruptly. “Shit, sorry.”
“Don’t mind.” Hercules rocks on his heels. “You need a ride home?”
Alex gathers his things with urgency. “Nah man. If you want to help, wait until Washington comes back and let him know something came up and I needed to go, yeah?”
“I mean, sure, but are you sure you don’t need-”
This time it’s Alex who’s out of the room before the sentence is finished. He flings the door at the other end of the lecture hall open on autopilot and lets his legs do the work.
~
He really should learn to rinse plates with barbeque sauce on them before it dries and becomes a pain to get off. Alex scrubs and scrubs at the sticky goo and the faucet runs so hot the skin of his hands turns bright red.
On a countertop next to him, out of the reach of the splashing water, is an old dollar store-notebook with messy scribbles of varying sizes covering two pages.
He made me into nothing he made me feel sorry for existing and he still gets to be held at night he still gets to be loved by someone and grow as a person and look forward to sharing his holidays with someone and I have to go to therapy and I have to worry about having panic attacks in public I tried so fucking hard to be good enough and he says some of his happiest memories are with me and he STILL messed me up and twisted me into a shape beyond recognition and I don’t know if i’m jealous of james or worried about him or maybe I hate him for being good enough for not caring about what he did to me and I still can’t bend my left pinkie finger properly because of that time he stepped on it and it’s not fair it’s not fair it’s not f
That’s the part where his shitty Walmart pen ran out of ink.
A key turns in the lock and Alex curses under his breath.
“Hey babe.”
“Hey.”
Aaron puts something into the fridge and lingers. Alex can picture him with his mind’s eye, leaning on the counter and frowning in that concerned and slightly puzzled way of his. “What happened?” Maybe the frown isn’t actually there; Aaron’s voice is too soft.
Alex drops the plate into the depths of the sinkful of murky dishwater and picks up a coffee mug instead. “What, Hercules didn’t give you enough juicy details?”
“Hercules? What are you talking about?”
“Oh please,” Alex snaps. He wants to throw something, but the mug he’s holding is his favorite. “You wouldn’t be asking me that if Hercules hadn’t told you, so you can drop the act and while you’re at it, you can drop the condescension too.”
He hates it, the way his friends manage him collectively. Like he needs a fucking protection squad. ‘Takes a village to raise a child’ and all that.
There’s a pause of silence and then slow footsteps. Alexander’s shoulders shoot up to his ears as Aaron stops and stands so close behind his back that he feels the warmth radiating from his body.
“The reason I’m asking,” Aaron says quietly and reaches around Alex to turn the faucet off, “is that you only write into that notebook when you’re too upset to type.”
Without the scorching hot stream of water on his hands, Alex grows cold quick. He quivers slightly.
“Who are you really angry at?” Aaron asks, lips nearly touching the lobe of his ear.
Of course it’s himself that he’s really angry at, that’s what it always really boils down to. Jefferson was right there and Alex didn’t say a goddamn thing, he never says or does a goddamn thing to him. He’s too weak and slow and useless to put up anything resembling a fight with Jefferson and he hates himself for it more than he could ever begin to hate Jefferson.
And Aaron is the last person who deserves to be his punching bag when he has done nothing but support Alex from the beginning.
Aaron’s arms snake cautiously around Alexander’s waist as he slumps against the sink. It’s a gesture of intimacy Alex selfishly accepts. He’s always had a temper, but nowadays it’s like his blood only runs either scorching hot or icy cold. His anger is either volatile or nonexistent, and he can’t even get his aim right.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispers with a thick voice.
Aaron kisses the nape of his neck with a closed mouth. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry too.”
“For what?”
“For telling you to ‘lose the attitude’ earlier.”
Alex blinks. “What?”
There’s a pause as Aaron picks his words. “Your anger keeps you safe. I don’t want to come across like I really want you to change, and be quieter and more… subdued. I love you no matter what, but it scares me when you go quiet and curl into yourself.”
Aaron jumps slightly at the loud snort Alex lets out. “Dude.”
He finally turns around and grabs Aaron’s shirt collar, grinning. “You think I can’t separate dirty talk from genuine criticism cast upon my person? I love it when you go all daddy on me.”
Aaron seems to catch onto the shift in the tension between them and leans on the sink so that his arms cage Alex against the counter. “Yeah? I can think of a few things I could cast upon your person instead.”
Alex bursts into a laugh that probably isn’t that attractive, but based on Aaron’s grin he doesn’t mind too much. “I call you daddy once and you instantly make a dad-joke? You’re doing this wrong.”
He yelps as Aaron grabs his thighs and lifts him until he’s sitting on a counter. His startled giggle turns into a pleased hum as Aaron’s teeth find his collarbone.
“We’ll see about that, princess,” Aaron mutters into his skin as Alexander’s legs wrap around his waist.
“I suppose we will,” he moans.