Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Don’t worry, honey,” Alex’s mother says tenderly, eyeing him with awe and care from the driver seat, a challenge hanging at the base of her calloused fingers, the desire to touch and the fear that keeps her away.

Like some sort of barrier is standing tall, invincible between them. And he doesn’t say it’s not, because there are days. Days when everything seems to have gone back to how it was are normal, while others – darker and less frequent – are the ones they avoid.

From what Alex can remember, his mother is a master at keeping things to herself as long as they don’t involve her family. These are plentiful and painful. He doesn’t want to see her crying again, but knows it’ll probably happen at some point.

“I’m not. I just don’t see the point in trying it,” he says, honest, and turns to face the car window. It’s flooded in sun light, streaked with dry rain drops and scratched, but he can still see outside, the light breeze sneaking between green leaves, the not so towering building he’s supposed to be in for the next few hours of the next few months.

His mother sighs as if his argument is a burden. Maybe it is, considering their discussions.

“We’ve already talked about it.” Her voice quiets, blond hair looking several shades lighter and brown eyes directed forward; always looking ahead instead of beyond. Another thing Alex didn’t inherit from her. Or maybe he did. He wouldn’t know, anyway. “If you don’t think you can go on with Physical Therapy, it’s all right. We’ll find a way. A better one. But it’s worth a try.”

See, Alex might not remember much, might be in almost complete darkness with himself and his past, what he is and isn’t, but his mother holds most of what has remained within his mind, his soul. It’s ingrained so well that it won’t erase. Not even a bullet can steal some memories and he’s, for once, glad for it.

“Right.” He feels the need to agree somehow. Glancing at the building entrance again, he puts aside the dread and pain and a small part of his fears.

It’s easier to let his cane carry his weight than to sink under all that pressure. As they’re slowly making their way to the entrance, through the parking lot, the summer heat is protruding through his white, blue-striped shirt and making him sweat.

Did he use to enjoy summer late nights? Excessive warmth and drinks at midnight? He cannot recall. But the smell, of hot asphalt and excitement and carelessness, is addicting.

“Be careful with that one, Alex,” his mother warns him of the few stairs leading to a councilor’s office and puts her nimble fingers on his elbow, always so supportive and strong. “Yes, like that.”

Alex has only had one premise when leaving home, that he wasn’t ever going to make it. He wouldn’t survive the first day, let alone the rest of them. It was wasting time, but a necessary one. That’s why, mostly, he remained frozen in place when the open office door led them to two people.

One, with graying hair, is smiling slightly. The other, a boy, with brunette strands, tan skin, is wearing a larger, more genuine smile. Alex doesn’t know how to react despite a small nod.

The boy seems to be eyeing him a little too much.

“Alex, hello. Welcome to our PT program. I truly hope it’ll be helpful and as comfortable as possible.” The man (Blake, was it?) tells him after his mother salutes them both. “Ah, since I’ve heard you go to Liberty High and I happened to come across one student who does the same, I assigned you to him.”

Oh. So he’s a Liberty High jackass with a nice smile. Alex has almost liked him. He doesn’t realize what expression he’s making, but his mother wants to calm him as she picks up to the slight tremor in his body.

“Alex, no. Honey, he’s Zach. Zach Dempsey. You’ve mentioned him a few times.”

It doesn’t matter how much compassion his mother puts in her words, or how calmly she’s talking, the name doesn’t and won’t ring a bell inside his messed up head.

“You can tell me if there’s a problem, boy. We’ll change your instructor. I just thought you’d like to have someone your age to assist you.” The man says, concerned or faking concern. Alex cannot really say the difference at the moment.

Whatever. There are two to three hours. He’d rather have it all end than go through some picking phase, only to meet someone boring. Plus, the way the boy smiles is… brighter than the sun filtering through the windows and onto the neat desk.

“No, no.” When all they do is glance at him curiously, he explains further. “It’s fine.” As fine as it can be, he means.

His mother is not completely convinced, but she won’t pester him about it. She’ll perhaps bring it up at dinner or however what they do every night is called. It could be a dinner or just a pretend-to-be time. To be what? He’s still figuring it out.

“Right, well. I’m glad about that.” More paperwork adds to the one already on the table. “Fill them all and you’re ready to go. Of course, you can do it for him and it should be done with.” This time, he’s not talking to Alex.

He moves his leg, stretches it to get rid of the stiffness and swallows the small obstacle in his throat. Emotions prickle his skin suddenly and the room is too small. The boy – Zach – comes to greet him properly.

“Hi.” His tall and athletic shoulders look stiff, too, with Asian-American characteristics and a weird sparkle in his dark eyes. “Uh… I guess you don’t remember me, so. I’m Zach. I’ll be your PT for as long as you’ll have me, or until you get bored eventually.” He finishes with one of those smiles, amiable and true.

“Let’s hope you won’t get bored of me first. You know, since I can barely remember my family, I can’t say if we were friends before.” Alex is half serious, but the tone he chooses for his words suggests otherwise once it’s used. “Were we? Friends, I mean.”

A small charged pause follows. Zach seems to be juggling with the answer, having that strange thing reflect in his eyes again, less visible but still there for Alex to see.

“We weren’t complete strangers. Not very close friends either. Somewhere in between the rock and the sea.” He fixes Alex with one, long look and holds the contact, to which the answer is a nod of acknowledgement. “Don’t worry. I heard these things come with time.”

Alex doesn’t want to find a sliver of comfort in his words, but he does.

“You should probably change. I don’t think you’d want that shirt to be dripping with water all over your car’s seats.” Zach says, letting Alex out the door first and then slowing his giant steps to match with Alex’s slower ones.

“You talk as if it’s happened to you before,” Alex remarks with a small chuckle, to which Zach smiles again, clearly pleased that he was able to lift the mood.

“I didn’t say it hadn’t. I’ll just keep it to myself.” Zach murmurs, closer this time and quieter, somehow bold in a good way. “In case you won’t tell anyone.” From under his dark eyelashes, he studies Alex as if he’s a natural phenomenon that needs to be elucidated.

Perhaps he is.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I think I’ll share this with mom though.” Alex’s voice might be the same, but Zach takes it as a joke and pats his shoulder, realizing then that the right one is higher than the left, since he’s supporting his weight in the cane.

“Wait, wait. Alex,” Zach says and, surprisingly, the boy listens, warily waiting as he has been told. “I’m such an idiot! I didn’t even ask you if you wanted help.” His dark eyes are casted downward, to Alex’s leg.

To say he’s an idiot would be a lie. Alex doesn’t think so and doesn’t want help, at least not with walking. It makes him feel even more damaged than he already is, which is hard to digest at such an early hour. He shakes his head in disagreement, trying to convince Zach that he’s done, in fact, nothing wrong and that everything is all right.

“I can walk by myself.” He decides to go with it since the absence of a verbal answer was the one holding Zach back.

“Right, right.” He still seems unconvinced for a second, but doesn’t continue on the subject and respects Alex’s opinion. “Let’s head this way.”

When Alex sees the program Zach has been given to follow, his breath leaves him hollow. He can barely make the walk from the car to the building with a normal breath, without his heart threatening to jump out of his chest, let alone start with so many exercises all of a sudden.

He must be frowning while reading, sighing and dreading to begin, because Zach eyes him, then the page, then him again and puts his thick fingers over the paper. Alex takes a step back, averting his eyes.

He doesn’t want to say that he can’t possibly do all of it, but Zach understands his worry anyway.

“Look, Alex. You do whatever you can and how much you resist doing it, okay? Don’t feel pressured, man. I’m right here, at every step.” Zach takes the program from between his fingers and replaces it with a pair of shorts. He pats his back twice and leaves him alone to get changed after Alex confirms he can do it by his own. “I’ll be waiting by the pool.”

Alex nods, still stuck on the idea of letting a Liberty High student help him with PT. Zach isn’t an asshole, but Alex can’t say he’s not a liar, a deceiver, someone who may or may not have hurt Hannah. He’ll go on like this, using the solid beginning they’ve had built and hoping that, once his memories come flooding his brain, Zach won’t prove to be someone he’s afraid of being.

The fact that he’s a little nervous is like a general truth. Who wouldn’t be on the edge of some twisted emotion when trying something for the first time? Hydrotherapy. Rehabilitation. They don’t sound nice. Riding a bike that’s underwater? Even weirder.

It seems that all his benevolent thoughts are wiped away easily by the image of his PT instructor without the red shirt on, chest on display, more naked than dressed. And it shouldn’t have been such a problem, looking from afar, but standing close to Zach, touching parts of his tan skin, was stranger than riding an underwater bicycle.

The point is, he has to do both – as in, he has to make his useless legs work hard enough to sustain his weight and feel Zach no more than five inches away, always with his hands stretched, eager to help and rescue and train.

“Good, good. Try to keep your balance as much as you can.” Zach is used not to dealing with more difficult cases, since he’s only been admitted as an instructor and Alex is the right fit, the missing piece, the one who can get him to slowly improve himself.

“Easier said than done,” Alex says, panting and feeling exhaust poke at his insides and demand to take over. “I need a break.” He doesn’t even wait for Zach, to see if he’s agreed or not, before he slows down the pedaling and breathes in deep.

“Of course,” Zach approves and moves his fingers to Alex’s back, hovering, not touching. It seems he’s still looking for a verbal consent. “You know, tomorrow, when you’ll get into calculus and trigonometry, you’ll wish you were here, practicing.”

“They’ll be like Chinese, perhaps. I can’t remember any formulas. It’s a blank paper, my head.” He still finds it tiring to breathe, but not as much as before. It could’ve been worse. It always could’ve been worse. “You said we were not-too-much-but-enough friends, right?”

Zach smiles slightly, nodding and using his hands for balance while gazing at Alex from underneath wet lashes. Alex, with his feet under the water up to his knees, staying on the edge of the pool, bites his lip a little, realizing how chapped it is and cold.

“That’s a way of putting it, yes. Why?” Zach finally answers, swimming closer to where Alex is and coming to rest his arms on the porcelain, truly contrasting with the whiteness of it.

“Just asking. You know, in case I need someone to carry me from my mom’s car to the entrance.” He’s joking, again, but, as he already knows, the humor isn’t obvious in the words. Zach widens his eyes, stiffens his shoulders and shrugs lazily.

“I can come and get you.” He offers, all too honest and useful.

Alex shakes his head, looking ahead at an older man being instructed too. His breaths are shallow, but he’s not giving up, nor is he taking a break. No. Well, perhaps that’s one more thing Alex hasn’t had the privilege to share with his mother; determination.

“It was a damn joke, Dempsey,” he lets out and goes into the water again. This time, it’s not that cold and uninviting and unpleasant. Plus, the look of amazement on Zach’s face is unique and is fueling his motivation, just a little bit.

“My offer still stands, Standall. In case you change your mind, you know where to find me.” In truth, he doesn’t, not apart from this facility. “I’m here from four to eight, maybe even nine, on every week day but Mondays and Fridays,” he adds when seeing the puzzled expression Alex was making.

“Why not every day?” Alex is too curious and, yes, it’s annoying to some, but not to Zach, it seems, because he goes on with the answer without considering the question inappropriate.

“I’ve got baseball practice then.” Zach comes after Alex again, ready to intervene but still staying away. “Let’s talk more after the exercises, though.”

Alex nods and starts pedaling.

As it happens, they don’t have the chance to do so. They don’t stop, panting, after PT to ‘talk more’, because Zach is suddenly called to go to school as soon as possible. It seems that there were some changes in plans and the baseball practice is still on. A little angry and just a tad bit tired, he excuses himself and leaves Alex early.

“Well? How was it?” His mother asks in the evening, when all what Alex wants to do is go up in his room and sleep.

“All right, I guess. I’m exhausted and hungry. Can we go buy something?” He uncaps a water bottle and downs half a liter into his stomach. It’s the first time after the incident that he does it, drinking water while knocked out by PT.

“No junk food, Alex. We’ve got dinner at home.” Oh, yes, how could he have forgotten about the healthy diet the three of them are opting for at the moment?

His father is not that curious about PT, though he asks too. He enjoys the organic food as much as Alex, picking vegetables and leaving them onto the plate’s edge. After the dinner ends, his mother keeps his father as an aid to washing and drying the dishes, letting Alex go and relax in his room.

He doesn’t know for how long he naps, until the phone vibrating and ringing near his head makes him jump. It says ‘Zach Dempsey’, but Alex is surprised at first, wondering how and why. Then it dawns on him that they knew each other, apparently having exchanged numbers.

“Yes?” He answers, lifting onto his right side.

“Alex! Were you asleep? Please tell me you weren’t.” Zach’s voice is no better than his, but it’s cheerer, louder. It fills the room in a good way, one that Alex can’t see himself doing.

“No, actually,” he lies, trying to remove the sluggishness from his tone. “Why?”

“Come in the backyard for a few minutes.”

Oh, Alex wants to say no. He truly, really does. He can’t. He just nods, realizing Zach can’t see him and says, “It might take a while. Get something to do before I come.”

All he hears before hanging up is Zach’s laughter.

“Are you going somewhere?” His mom asks, making him freeze. She’s expecting an answer, unfortunately.

“On the porch, to take some air,” Alex half admits. He’s taking air, just not by himself.

“Be careful.”

“Well, look who’s here in less than five minutes. That’s impressive!” Zach says, clapping his hands and smiling, again. And, again, Alex is enraptured by that smile. That damn smile should be illegal.

“Thanks. I wasn’t even trying my best.” He stops before Zach, who’s sustaining his weight on his car. “What are you doing here? Been here before?”

“No, actually. Just once, when you were too drunk to drive and I took you home.” Zach has both his hands in the pockets of his jeans, more relaxed than before. “Oh, I almost forgot.” He distances himself from the car, opens the door and takes a backpack, searching through it hastily.

Once he gets what he wants, he chuckles. “That’s it!” He throws Alex one Snickers, waiting for a reaction. “In case you get bored of vegetables.” It’s supposed to clarify things.

It doesn’t.

“Aren’t you supposed to make sure I’m healthy?” Alex asks, but the sweet thing in his right hand is squashed by the upper part of his cane. He’s got a smaller hand, compared to Zach, and having to hold both the cane and the Snickers isn’t easy. “Your conscience must be screaming.”

“It’s not a mistake if only we know the secret,” Zach admits and his smile falters by a centimeter. Alex sees it. “Hey, uh, my offer is still available.”

“If you want to…” Alex says, clearing his throat. “My answer might be affirmative.”

“Might? What’s holding you back?” Zach’s voice isn’t acrid, or bitter, just curious and amused. The candlelight of the sun is painting his eyes in a honey color. The red shirt is clinging to his body, covered by a denim jacket.

“Is this a double or a simple?” Alex asks, pointing towards the Snickers with his head.

“You’re unbelievable,” Zach says, smiling widely, biting his lip. He doesn’t seem to be able to understand what he sees and hears. Maybe Alex was truly different before. He doesn’t even want to know.

“See you in the morning.”

Chapter Text

While Alex is lying in his bed, alone with his boring thoughts and problems, he’s staring at the Snickers bar crushed between his fingers without knowing why. Why his heartbeats are irregular or why the sound of the clock ticking on his wall is annoying, out of rhythm with everything else inside him.

Zach is weird, but it’s his kind of weird. Long nights, short walks, quiet - this is where Alex belongs now. Because the hours that seem to fly out his window while he’s unable to sleep are countless. Because all he can do by himself is walk for maximum five minutes and then get tired.

The other kind of weird (loud sounds, liquor on the floor, also long nights) doesn’t belong to him anymore - in case it ever did.

But the way Zach came into his life like a nebula begging to let the light in, to have the mystery solved, is addicting. Alex is aware that, in some way, he invaded Zach’s life and not vice versa. Although it could’ve stopped there. Simply seeing each other for a few hours at PT and pretend to be strangers at high school.

It didn’t.

Alex’s morning routine is nothing out of the ordinary. He brushes his teeth as good as he can, washes his body, lets his mother comb her fingers through his hair (“Is this what you call stylish nowadays? Let me fix it”). He always ends up eating some pancakes and drinking fresh apple juice. If it were his decision, he’s skip this part (“A good day starts with a good breakfast”).

This time, though, while he was tasting a spoonful of strawberry jam, he heard a car door being slammed. His mother, equally intrigued, took a towel to wipe her hands and went to the window.

“It’s Zach.” She says, seeming relieved and smiling. She probably adores him for helping Alex with PT and trying to befriend him when they’re both aware not many students would do it.

“Who?” His father asks and this is when Alex’s nerves are brought to life. What if he knows Zach and doesn’t like him? What if Zach has done something before, something only his father and Alex could know about to keep his mother’s peace? (“Dad, she cannot know about this, please!”)

Alex lets the spoon drop to the floor, clutching his throbbing head, on the verge of crying. What was that? A memory? A lucid dream? A creation of his mind? Let it be imaginary and not something that could’ve happened before.

“Oh my God, honey! Alex! Can you hear me?” His mother is there in seconds, fingers not touching but hovering, breaths slow and steady, deep. He looks at her and tries to repeat them.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. Just a headache,” he lies (is it lying when even he doesn’t know what’s going on?) and averts his eyes. “It’s Zach Dempsey, dad. The one mom was talking about.” He needs to see it, his father’s reaction, to know if he has to be cautious.

He’s met with a blank stare, not even one emotion painted on his face. Not a smile. Not a frown. Not anger. Not appreciation. Nothing. Alex sighs and rubs his tired eyes, keeping his balance. His mother’s probably left to open the door for Zach.

“Dude, is everything all right?” Zach asks when he sees jam on the floor and, instantly, Alex lifts his head, drops his hands, listens and looks. He thinks Zach has this peculiar power to steal everyone’s attention and hold it closely. “Oh, Mr. Standall. Good morning.”

Alex thinks he’s going insane, because he can’t interpret Zach’s voice either. It’s as blank as an expression, twice as irritating. He’s suddenly angry and immediately tries to stem it.

“I got dizzy. Lack of caffeine does a lot of things to people.” Alex is gazing at Zach with cerulean blue eyes and doesn’t smile, but his words stir a reaction in the other boy. A curve of his lips, barely there, the sunlight giving his chocolate brown eyes a molten color. So, he’s not insane. He still sees what he needs to see in people. It’s Zach and his father who are masters at concealing their feelings.

For once, he’s at least a little happy.

“Don’t tell me about coffee. I didn’t have a chance to finish mine.” Zach is wearing the Liberty High School jacket, his black hair is styled the same way, with just few strands hanging on his forehead. This time, he is wearing his school bag on his right shoulder as if it didn’t weigh anything and a black shirt is, again, fit to his body.

Alex wants to ask why he didn’t drink his coffee, but too many questions are boring. Plus, he doesn’t want to stay home a second more and, trying to have a reason for leaving, extends his arm for Zach to take.

“Lead me to my cane, Dempsey. And then we can go,” he clarifies and hopes didn’t come on too strong, too demanding. The last thing he wants is to annoy Zach.

In some strange way, Zach understands his need to leave the room. He knows that Alex doesn’t want to ask for help, but he accepts the offer anyway. After all, he said he’d be there for Alex, with his hand outstretched and ready to catch him. Alex drapes his arm over his broad shoulders and Zach slightly touches his back, his hip, to keep him balanced. It feels all right, for how much Alex hates physical contact, it’s not bad at all.

“Let me get your bag,” his mother says and doesn’t wait for an answer before going up the stairs while Zach and Alex go by the couch, where his cane was left.

“How was that Snickers?” Zach asks, finally letting Alex go and briefly studying around.

“I wouldn’t know,” Alex says and thanks his mother for bringing the bag, even though he’s not sure he has all the books in there or the homework done. “We can go.”

Zach nods, lets his mother hug him as her own son. He holds the house door for Alex and does the same with the car. Inside, it smells like cinnamon and Alex chuckles. It’s combined with perfume and something entirely belonging to Zach, a distinct smell.

“Why are you laughing, Standall?” Zach is amused, too, when he turns the key into ignition. The car purrs to life and Alex admires the sound, so harmonious and steady, just like Zach.

“It’s ironic, you know. You look like a mountain. Cinnamon doesn’t suit you.” While he’s talking, he’s touching the board and tries to stifle his laugh.

“Oh, come on. I’m not a brute,” Zach insists and smirks, driving through the array of cars in town with ease. “What’s up with your dad?” The change in subject is as drastic as a sudden drift, leaving Alex puzzled a little.

“What do you mean?” He thinks he knows what he means, but he’s not too keen on making wrong assumptions. He’s noticed it, too. A cold glare when they left, him seeping his coffee and staring out the window at Zach’s car.

“He was looking at me as if I was taking you to a date, not to school.” Something is laced to his voice, an unnamable, strange emotion; something akin to anger, but more profound, spreading, unstoppable and concealed in a careless voice, to quiver on normal.

“I’m a date-then-kiss type, I guess. So, uh, no kissing until I see what food you’re ready to waste money on.” Alex’s joking, he knows it. Zach knows it, but still – the corner of his mouth curves and a smile is sketched onto his face.

“Good to know. Maybe we’ll go eat some healthy kale soup. I wouldn’t want to hurt you by buying a hamburger.”

Zach is fine. Zach is a friend. Zach is new and entertaining and interesting and damn if his lack of memory doesn’t enjoy this newfound attention and his stupid jokes (their stupid jokes). He knows that he’ll miss it for a few hours until PT.

“Just for the record,” Alex tries, eyeing the multitude of students warily, desperate to escape, but too lazy to give a damn at the same time. They are talking, observing, gossiping. “You wouldn’t be available for a latte instead of Physics, would you?”

Zach raises his shoulders as if to say he’s sorry, shakes his head and gets out of the car, running to open the door to Alex. He struggles a little with his cane while trying to make his legs work on his own volition. He manages to get out safely and, fortunately, without Zach’s help.

“Ready?” Zach Dempsey asks and sighs, as if reading and sharing Alex’s worries. He’s gripping his bag so tight his fingers are turning white, neat nails and smooth skin. How can a sportive boy be so careful with his skin?

Alex has looked through old pictures and, whenever he played, he had scrapes all over his milky-white skin, bruises so prominent they looked scary and out of place. He wonders how his head scar might look.

“Yes.” He nods and, half sustained by his cane physically and the other half by Zach morally, he makes his way inside.

Jessica has been through so much. Clay is a babbling idiot with a sharp mind and a steel purpose. This is what he can remember while they’re sitting at the lunch table, discussing and avoiding school food that looks a lot like nothing you’d ever want to put your mouth on.

At some point, Clay gets a phone call and leaves in a hurry. Alex doesn’t feel embarrassed or out of place or ignored. Jessica feels a little like home and even though her smiles are forced, tears hanging in the corners of her eyes like dew drops, the silence between them is comfortable.

“So, uh, are you going to the trial?” He asks her when there is quieter; people have already settled into their own groups. He knows Zach is just a few rows back, eating and laughing with his douchebag friends.

Jessica looks stunned for a moment, then she lowers her gaze into a yogurt and shrugs. “I suppose I am. I owe this to Hannah.” A pause follows. The silence is filled by endless words, useless things and humorless jokes around them. “I know you can’t remember her, but she was a good person. We – we did some things together. The three of us.”

“I vaguely remember her. The doctors said my memory will come back gradually or all at once. It’s going to be painful anyway.” Alex begins fidgeting with his drinking straw and taking small gulps of a natural orange juice. “This shit is complicated, I get it. I know there were things between us, all three of us. I just can’t name them.”

Jessica nods, steals a glance at the table of assholes and diverts her gaze. “Look at them. They act as if nothing’s ever happened.” There’s not resentment in her voice, it’s emptiness.

Alex turns his head, lets his eyes briefly fall on Zach munching his lunch, smiling. Is he truly happy being surrounded by those kinds of people? From what Clay had the chance to tell him, Bryce and Montgomery are the ones with the ‘brilliant’ ideas and money.

Is he like them, too? When Clay told Alex his name, he stopped him. He doesn’t want to hear anything about Zach, not at the moment. He doesn’t want this Zach to be the exact opposite of the one he’s beginning to know at PT and in the morning before they enter the school and see his ‘friends’ eyeing them.

“I’ll just… go. I don’t want to be late for practice.” Jessica gets up, arranges her jeans and shirt, dumps her food and runs her hand through Alex’s hair before leaving. “Take care.”

All he can say as a response is a nod and a small ‘you too’.

“That’s right, that’s right… Don’t give up now,” Zach insists, counting Alex’s time to finish a complete cycle onto the bike. It’s not easy to pedal, breathe through the water rising and keep going for an extended period of time. “I think that’s enough for now. We’ve got one more and then you can go home.”

“One more?” Alex asks, curious and panting. He takes the towel Zach is offering – water is dripping all over the floor when they get out of the pool – and begins wiping his arms. He’s craving for an icy water bottle.

They are almost alone at the pool, being already late afternoon. Alex is tired. He wants to sleep, shower, maybe even lie awake in bed and try to remember. There are holes in his head that would probably make him understand everything better, more thoroughly.

“Nothing complicated. Lie down,” Zach says, extending a mat somewhere farther from the pool. It’s a deep blue color, thin and not too long. When he sees Alex eyeing him strangely, he gestures toward it. “I need to stretch your leg muscles before you leave.”

Right. Of course. What could he have wanted? Alex is sometimes so slow to thinking things through that he ends up looking like an idiot. He does as he’s told, lying on his back and facing the ceiling. He inhales and exhales deep, tries to relax his body as Zach tells him to.

At first, he’s managed to do it. It all collapses and shatters to ruins when Zach touches his left leg. It’s light, afraid not to be too much, but it’s there – persistent even though he barely feels the warmth. He shivers. He wants to tell him to fuck off and get his hand, to stop touching him. He wants to breathe because air seems to be stuck somewhere between his ribs in tied knots.

“Can I continue?” Zach’s voice is steady, always so sure and yet comforting. Alex approves before he can think twice.

Moving his hand higher, up to his knee, he brings the other one on his ankle and, lifting it, he begins bending his leg how much he can before Alex hisses. He’s not exactly feeling pain, more like he’s not feeling anything. It’s unpleasant though. As if his brain is yelling a command to stop it. As if it might hurt.

“All right, so you can’t bear to have it lifted more than a ninety degree angle. We’ll try it sideways.”

Alex closes his eyes and feels like screaming again. It felt like too much. It felt restraining and impossible. It was just a normal bending of his leg.

“How much more?” Zach questions and keeps pushing. It doesn’t matter. Alex doesn’t care about it anymore. He’s a fucking cripple. “Alex, work with me here. You can’t give up just because you don’t like the result.”

He feels mocked. He chuckles humorlessly and smiles, all teeth and sharp edges. He’s sure he looks horrible.

“Sure. It’s not you going through this. Don’t talk like you know how this is.” His words are cold, he’s an asshole, but his ego is bigger than the swimming pool they’ve practiced in and doesn’t let him take them back.

“You’re right, I don’t know. That’s why I’m here, so I can learn how to be useful to people like you.” His voice is so calm, but a storm is being born in his eyes.

“You mean to losers like me?” He’s lost some of the flame of anger, but it’s latent and ready to burn again.

“To fragile people like you.” It sounds like his words are breaking towards the end.

Alex turns his head, sighs and tries to banish the questions begging to be voiced. Why are you still friends with Bryce? He lets his leg to be lifted again. Does he have anything on you? He tries bending it as Zach says he needs to. Are you like them? He lowers his leg, lifts his hand. Why are you doing all of this for me? Why not anyone else?

“Try to clench your fingers.”

He does try. Turns out he can’t.

“Alex,” Zach brings him to reality while he’s preparing to change. “Don’t give up just yet. I’m not telling you this to annoy you. I knew you, before…” He gulps and continues. “I always thought you were a fighter, it’s just that Liberty High prefers cowards.”

Alex grips the shirt in his right hand, purses his lips and nods. He’ll keep that in mind. He’ll keep repeating those words and try to not let them become a broken record in his mind.

“Let’s get you home.” On his way to the locker room, Zach pats his back lightly twice. “I can’t let you miss cabbage soup.” He’s laughing and Alex groans, tilts his head back and swears.

“Do you have a Twix, or Snickers or whatever is sweet and forbidden to me?” Zach laughs in response to this. “What? Besides, how do you know what we have for dinner? Is my mother so confident in you? Do you discuss such things anyway?” Zach is still a little wary of changing clothes in front of Zach, but the other boy doesn’t have a problem with being half naked in front of him.

“I do, actually. She invited me for dinner. You know, since I’m your PT instructor, I know what’s best for you.”

He’s devilishly smiling and Alex curses. “You’re evil.”

“You can babble about how amazing you think I am at dinner, Standall. Now let’s go.”

Alex huffs and does as he’s told. He’s still unsure about the change in discussion, the mood, the tension, but he sees Zach’s tense shoulders and knows. He knows it’s not going to be left in a corner and forgotten. It’ll just be ignored during dinner.

Chapter Text

As it turns out (or, as it never seemed to turn out), the dinner is an utter success. Alex was a little afraid, at first. Afraid that he’d get to see that blank look on his father’s face again, deal with dense tension and having no explanation whatsoever.

But, his luck hadn’t all gone to zero. No, it did indeed prove to be one of those rare nights his father had a late shift, which only made him exhilarated and kept him smiling slightly during dinner, enjoying his mother and Zach’s jokes (because they have so many things in common).

He enjoys seeing Zach so implicated, brought into the heart of his house and looking as if he’s belonged here from the beginning and that is why, partly, he is inhumanly disappointed to see him leave.

The other part that feels his departure deeply is still a hidden one; one he doesn’t know anymore and isn’t too fond of finding out soon.

“That was awesome, dude,” Zach tells him on his way to his car, but Alex barely hears the words. The wind is howling, dark clouds adorning the night sky and making it look completely black. Lightning is visible far away, so beautifully disrupting the plainness of it, the calmness and the fake peace.

“Was it? I mean, did you have a good time at least?” Alex asks, leaning on his cane and observing. Zach’s muscles contract, making his shirt look much smaller on his broad back. His hair is rebelling against the wind, so unusually disheveled.

It is in that moment that Alex realizes how cold it is outside, when the breeze hits his heated skin. It’s probably going to rain soon.

“Your mother is amazing. I guess you’ve got that from her,” Zach partially smiles, unlocking his car and preparing to go in. Before he can seat himself at the steering wheel, he gazes at Alex with eyes as deep as the sky above. It looks like parts of it were broken and placed into his irises to be kept safe.

Because Zach is nothing but the definition of safe, of care and tenderness and fearful protection.

Because it’s the first time after the attempt Alex feels like he can trust someone without questioning the past.

A lightning lights them both for a second, less than a second actually – a very short time. It’s enough, though. It’s enough to see the curve of lips, relaxed features sculpted into a boyish smile. Alex clears his throat, making Zach escape from the trance, too.

“I – my mother, my sister and I weren’t able to have such a dinner since father died. I guess she’s just… different. She’s smiling, but she’s not there. It falls when she can’t keep it up anymore. We’re mostly eating on our own, since she can’t stand the thought of never placing a plate to his seat.”

Zach’s voice sounds broken, more vulnerable than ever and Alex wants to do something, anything, to erase the sound of it. He can’t properly see it, but he thinks the smile’s wiped away as quickly as it came.

“I’m glad you came, then. Zach, I – I know I’m a bad learner and a horrible patient,” Alex says and silences the other boy when he hears him trying to deny the truth they’re both aware of. “But I appreciate it, you know? You spend – what? Three to four hours trying to make me a fucking normal human. And you never quit. I know it’s still early and I fucking hate saying this after all that’s happened at Liberty and to its students, but: thank you.”

Alex doesn’t want to ever regret this, but he kind of does already. A picture of Zach laughing because of some stupid joke Bryce or Montgomery said is contradictory to the person Zach truly is. It doesn’t make sense, him staying with those assholes, unless he has a motive. Unless Alex means nothing to him.

“You can come whenever you want anyway. Man, my mom loves you already,” he continues, shrugs with one shoulder and averts his eyes even though he can’t see much. The light from the porch is not helping either, a little too far to do so. “What more would you want?”

Zach comes closer and halts abruptly. His legs might have acted on their own, because he looks bewildered. His hands clench and unclench repeatedly. There’s a look – a strange light in his eyes – that makes Alex afraid for a second. It feels as nothing and it feels like more at the same time.

“You’re right,” Zach confirms. “You do are a bad learner.”

Zach laughs and Alex joins in, too, still a little distant in that way of his. Overall, though, he feels better than before. He doesn’t know he’s squealing when big, fat drops of rain begin falling on him until Zach comments about it, leaving to his car for good this time.

“Hurry inside, Standall. You’ll be all wet.”

Alex says a quiet ‘fuck you’, but he’s aware Zach messes with him, tries to make him smile and is willing to play this game of theirs.

“I like him, you know,” his mother mutters later, when he’s tucked in bed and almost asleep, after she’s had an argument with his father down in the kitchen. One argument she thinks Alex didn’t hear, but oh – he did hear it perfectly. “Zach is the kind of quiet you need in your life right now.”

There’s nothing but silence between them, accompanied by the sound of heavy rain and his father’s footsteps on his way to their room. He doesn’t come to see Alex, too tired and angry to do so at the moment and he understands, partly.

“Despite what your father thinks, Alex, Zach seems truly concerned and caring. He reminds me of Clay, but in a more open version.” His mother kisses his forehead, brushes his hair out of his eyes that stare fixedly at the ceiling. “Try to rest.” She sighs, pats the gray blanket as if waiting for a reaction.

Alex has no more left to give at the moment. She doesn’t pester him, though; she doesn’t push, not like his father did.

She leaves and it’s just the rain keeping Alex from falling asleep. That, combined with his father’s words.

“That Zach kid, he hates Alex. Why would he pretend to care?”

Alex has supposed he’d never see that look on Zach’s face again, the one from that night, so openly sincere in something he can’t put a label on.

He knows anger when he sees his father look with distaste at Zach every morning.

He knows happiness when he sees Zach smile and acknowledge his progress in PT when and if it happens.

He knows love when he listens to Clay talk about Hannah, like she was holding his whole universe and it all crumbled with her death.

But what he saw on Zach, he can’t name, because it’s a little bit of all the above.

“What’s on your mind, Standall?” The subject of his questions asks, startling him. They’re waiting for the traffic lights to turn green so they can pass. People cross the street in front of them – some, worried and hasty and others, with no care in the world.

“I’m hungry. I didn’t get to eat breakfast today.” It’s not a lie, just not the whole truth. “Oh, and I was thinking about ways to ditch PT today without you noticing me.”

Zach laughs, accelerates and they pass multiple buildings and houses on their way to school.

“There’s no way you can. Why didn’t you eat something? Was I at your place too early?” He’s concerned and when Alex glances over, casting his eyes from the neighborhood, he sees beauty.

It’s beauty in the way Zach wears all his clothes, apparently all shirts and jeans, so fitting and interesting in their patterns (he’s wearing a red shirt, on its front being written in bold, white letters: ‘IN MY DEFENSE, I WAS LEFT UNSUPERVISED’). It is, frankly, so unlike him, because Zach doesn’t do anything his mother would feel sorry for.

Alex can still notice it though, and that’s the point.

“No, my mom’s working her late night shift. She’s not back until maybe nine, or so. And dad definitely can’t cook anything.”

Zach looks ahead and doesn’t say anything more, not until he parks in front of a bakery.

“What are you doing?” Alex is surprised to see they’re stopping by and he’s mesmerized by the appealing smell, of fresh and baked bread and donuts and bagels.

“We’re going to eat,” he tells nonchalantly, gazing at Alex. “Will you?”

When all Alex does is raise his eyebrows and use his eyes to ask ‘will-I-what?’, Zach sighs, presses the door handle and with it a large amount of crisp morning air crashes into Alex and makes him shiver.

“Will you ditch first period with me and eat some bagels?” Zach smiles and, for a brief moment, Alex feels warmth, ignores the coldness of an early spring morning.

“Are you serious?” Alex huffs, checks the other boy’s face again to make sure it’s something he does because he wants to, not because he feels obligated. “Zach Dempsey just asked me to ditch class with him. I would’ve never guessed our roles would be reversed.”

“Get over the revelation, Standall. I’m hungry.”

As if in response, Alex hears his stomach growl. He laughs, lets Zach hold his arms while he gets out of the car and tries to keep balance on his own. He feels dizzy, more than usual, and his hand is slightly trembling. Closing his eyes, he exhales and inhales repeatedly while waiting for Zach to lock the car.

“You all right?” Zach says, placing two tentative palms over Alex’s hips and trying to keep him steady. “You’re shaking.”

He didn’t know this. He doesn’t want to know what’s happening. He just wants it all to go away, including Zach’s touch. He gets an inch away from the fingers that seem too constricting, even though they’re barely touching him.

“Alex, breathe,” he hears distantly, tries to follow the advice and succeeds at last. He doesn’t know what’s making his emotions fray under the scrutinizing gaze of the past, but they’ve gone crazy and, at some point, it’s overwhelming.

Zach understands this and doesn’t press the subject. Instead, he waits. Alex doesn’t know for how long they stay there, slightly touched by sun light and almost alone in front of the store.

“I’m fine, I’m all right. We can go,” he states, beginning to walk already and ignoring the urge to glance at Zach’s face, to read his expression. He doesn’t want to be disappointed – either by seeing something he wouldn’t like or wouldn’t be able to decipher.

Once they’re inside, they are taken aback by the low number of customers and how empty the place feels, but the smell is too amazing and inviting to ignore, so they choose a table facing the window. It’s got a perfect view of the street and it’s not as hidden from others as Alex would’ve preferred, but he’s not alone (he’s aware Zach has no problem with crowded places).

“So, the true question is,” Zach snickers at Alex’s furrowed brows and innocent blue eyes. He’s assessing the menu, realizes they don’t have many options to choose from, and smiles fully. It’s honest and Alex has to stare. It’s bashful and reliable. It steadies him.

It hurts to see what he won’t ever be like, but it’s less painful to realize how much he’s living for this image.

“Will it be poppy seeds bagels or sesame ones?”

Alex swallows, picks one of them randomly (he’s ninety percent sure he chose poppy seeds), but his hunger’s been cut from the root. He’d like to stay and admire only, though he’s the reason they stopped to eat in the first place.

They don’t talk while eating. It’s comfortable enough and it doesn’t scream for attention, it doesn’t beg to be filled. Alex chews slowly, while Zach’s faster.

“Do you want this one?” He is asked about the last remaining on the table and his answer is to push it forward and leave it to Zach.

“Hey, uh,” Dempsey begins, clears his throat, looks down instead of directly to Alex. “About what happened before… I’m sorry if I triggered something, some memory or anything else. I didn’t mean it.”

Alex knows this too well.

“I know you didn’t and it’s not your fault, Zach. It’s just my damn brain working faster than I can cope,” he admits, fidgets with a pink napkin. “It’s happened before. Not so often though. There’re bits of the past, but when I try reliving them, they don’t match.”

Zach looks thoughtful for a second. Then, he nods and swallows a bite. Alex can’t help but stare. He wants to see as closely as possible, to get the sense of security and weirdness that comes with Zach Dempsey dressed in every day clothes, smiling.

He’s not, at the moment; he’s more serious than ever.

“Did you remember anything in order? I mean, from the beginning to the end, without missing pieces.”

He fixates Alex with two black irises that seem to pull him in, make him lose his mind.

“No.” It’s an immediate answer and he doesn’t know why he’s been so fast to clear things for Zach. Was he always like this? “Why?”

“I was just curious. You’re interesting, Alex, and whether you like it or not, I’m trying to stay, to get to you. You just…” He pauses, sighs and checks his clock. “Something’s keeping you back when it comes to me and I’d like to know what.”

A deep, frightening silence follows. It falls like a curtain over the other customers, over the cute waitress heading their way. They’re in the middle of people, but they feel so alone and distant from them. While it’s a rare sentiment, it’s also inherently eerie.

“I’d like to know this too.”

They don’t talk about it at school, no. Zach wasn’t angry when Alex gave him that vague answer, he didn’t push; he didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. It was obvious Alex didn’t want to say more (whatever more is defined as) and he respected that.

Still, Alex Standall feels guilty. He’s biting his nails, fidgeting with everything his right hand comes across (pens, napkins, Clay’s keychain which is a very odd, very endearing burger with feet and a mouth). Lunch barely passes, Zach is eating with his ‘friends’ and Alex’s insides are destroying themselves over a stupid reason.

“Why am I such an idiot?” He asks and Jessica chuckles, stares at the messy sandwich in front of her.

“I swear this is the hardest question someone can ask themselves.”

“What? You’re not an idiot, why would you ask yourself that?” Alex says, deciding to take a bite from a granola bar. Its taste is awful, but it’s supposed to make him regain his energy.

“I hate to disagree, but we’re all idiots at some point and some are more than others.” She glances at him, then at the keychain he placed on the table. “Is this yours?”

“No.”

He’s chewing when she continues with her question, “Is this Zach’s?”

He’s choking.

“Why would it be Zach’s?” Alex is still recovering after the nibble, his coughs persistent. He tries drinking some juice and it’s a little better.

“I don’t know… I just assumed it would be. You guys are friends, right?”

Were they? Really, were they? Because, as Zach said earlier, it felt like something needed to be clarified. It still needs to be spoken aloud, confronted. Alex is an utter idiot if he ever speaks those words in front of Zach.

Are we friends or are we more?

It’s normal to think like this. It’s uncertainty in why Zach’s cheeks redden when they touch sometimes or why he keeps going to PT for him only, why he insists on driving him with his car and why he accepts coming to dinner.

It isn’t charity, is it? It’s not some awful compassion towards a broken person, is it?

“I don’t even know. It’s complicated.”

It is the truth and, when he glances at where Zach is staying, he sees him looking back.

Alex misses PT. It’s a simple concept, at first. He’s convinced Tyler to show him photos – photos of him in the hospital, the way he looked, how he’d improved (on the outside, at least).

He made sure to leave Zach a text, though (‘I can’t come today. See you tomorrow’). He doesn’t know if Zach tried calling him back or not, if he’s relieved to have more time to himself or not. Alex chose to close his phone and discard it in his backpack.

“Are you sure you want to see these? It’s… intense.” Tyler is looking for the files on his flash drive, scrolling through many and many folders with weird names and codes. His is called Alex Standall, plain and almost empty.

There aren’t lots of images, but there are enough. He nods in approval and tries to steady himself when the evidence floods him, brings him to the ground and beats him. It’s awful. It’s painful.

It’s what he needed.

“Why would I do this to myself?” He’s not asking someone in particular, just trying to find an answer for himself. “Can you print these? I want them.”

I need them all.

“Alex, someone’s here for you,” his mother says, nudging her shoulder between the door and the wall.

Alex perks his head up, nods and he thinks he has an idea of who might be looking for him. His mother lets Zach inside.

After the door shuts behind them quietly, he turns around and begins rummaging through his books for the photos.

“Where were you? You didn’t come to PT.” He sounds a little more angry, a little more upset than before and Alex feels good. He wanted to get a rise out of Zach, to show him his patience has a limit.

“Yeah, I couldn’t. I needed to get some pictures.” He wants Zach to be curious while also hoping to be left alone. When all Zach does is stare in question at him, he finally finds them. “These, from when I was in coma.”

Zach’s eyes widen, his hands clench around the pictures in a deathly grip. He tries talking but no words escape the fortress his mouth forms. No photographer could ever capture the rage in his eyes, the fierceness that makes Alex shiver.

“Where the hell did you take them from?” He waves them around, comes closer to Alex. He doesn’t feel threatened, though he’s exuding confidence. “Alex, it’s not right. Who gave you these?”

“Does it matter? I asked him to,” Alex mutters, pressed to his desk with Zach inches away from him. “It was my choice and you don’t have to like it.”

“Right. Why would you tell your friend about this?” Zach ironically asks, keeping the images higher so Alex can’t get to them. “Tyler took them, didn’t he? That’s sick.”

It’s disgust on Zach’s face, but not toward Alex. “They’re mine, so give them back.” Firmly, he stretches his hand and waits. Zach realizes the truth, the fact that Alex is right and he respects personal decisions.

Reluctantly, he lets them fall in Alex’s hand. “You’re wrong, Alex. You don’t need these to know who you were. The people around you, the ones who love and protect you, tell you everything you need to know.”

It’s nice, in perspective. Unfortunately, things don’t work the way people want to all the time.

“What are you doing with them?” He hears his voice behind him, let down and concerned.

“Putting them in,” Alex replies, tries to be cold, but he fails. When he does it, his hands get caught on something weird, a different kind of paper – rougher, darker. He gets, unfolds and watches it. “What the fuck?”

“What is it?” Zach comes behind him directly, looking over his shoulder. “Oh.”

It’s a target, on the paper, shot four times in the head. In red, it’s written on top: ‘BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME’. He drops it. With a trembling hand, he lets it fall without caring where it lands. Zach is frozen, too. He gapes, tries to think of something and reminds himself that Alex comes first.

“Alex, Alex. Look at me,” he firmly says, puts both hands on either side of his face, runs his thumbs over pale skin. “Yes, like this. Look at me.”

Alex’s deep, blue eyes are fixed on him, on his face, then his nose and then his lips. He shuts them, so pliable to the touch. “It was sudden.” His voice is steady, but his look says otherwise; chaos inside is more dangerous than a quivering voice.

“I know, I know.”

They spend a lot of time like that, with Alex shaking and Zach holding his pieces together like they’re something precious. They’re not, separately. Assembled together though, they’re worth protecting.

Chapter Text

Alex and Zach are patiently sitting at a round table, two bagels between them as a sign of peace and a heavy silence charging the atmosphere with a weird feeling, as if something were amiss. Maybe it was, judging by the message Alex had received not too many hours ago. Maybe it wasn’t, considering Zach’s optimism has an effect in every situation.

However, they act like a normal breakfast is the key to whatever they need. Alex feels his stomach protest, but he barely gains the energy to lift a finger from his lap. His foot aches and his body is rigid, but the good thing is… there really does seem to be someone more eager to kill him than he was.

“Do you think it’s meant to be a joke?” He says, unsure of the question, yet more unsure about the answer. “And if it’s a joke, it’s a really bad one, like Clay’s jokes used to he in middle school.” His words take him by surprise, since he cannot say how he knows this fact, but once it’s out of his mouth it wins an appearance of general truth.

“I don’t know who would be sick enough to joke like this,” Zach says, fallen deep in his thoughts and sighing. Alex seems to be the only one brave enough to search for the message through the bag placed on the table.

Zach cuts his movement by putting his palm on top of his, fingers clenched. His skin is warm and protective, made to contrast with his.“Don’t,” he warns in a whispered voice, “we can’t know who’s looking at us right now.”

“Well, whoever they are, I hope we’re at least looking good.” Hiding behind irony is still better than facing the truth. Listening to his friend’s advice, he eyes the food again. They have twenty more minutes until classes officially begin and they’re not moving an inch.

“Do you really think it was a great idea not to stay home today?” Zach’s voice is tinged with worry and he’s fumbling with the flyer they’ve gotten as a menu.

Alex sighs and shrugs. “Who knows? Chances are that they will be at school today, too. What difference does it make? They could somehow put that in my photos when I wasn’t looking and the only one I can think of at the moment is the janitor, since I’ve kept them in my locker the whole time.”

“Alex, I think we should tell your parents.” Zach pushes the plate a little more towards him. The bagels smell amazing and it’s obvious they’re warm and inviting. “Can you please stop ogling the food and eat it already?”

“I can,” Alex agrees, finally tasting something after a horrendous evening and night without being hungry. “If we tell my parents, you’re probably not going to see me for a while. They’ll keep me locked in a tower like Rapunzel.”

“Well, then maybe I’ll need to come and save you like a proper hero,” Zach says while sketching a weak smile and Alex’s empty stomach protests, but not for food. He’s not sure why. “This was too cheesy.”

“It was,” Alex agrees and feels like an obstacle has left him with Zach’s words, so full of meaning and yet carefree that he doesn’t need anything else at the moment. “I say we pretend nothing happened. If I get a threat again, we’ll go with your plan. Until then, we’ll go by mine.”

Zach agrees and, in his hurry to pay for the breakfast and get both their bags, misses the pair of eyes watching them from the corner of the shop, trained on their movement and a mouth curving into a displeased line.

The school is in uproar. Everyone’s talking or whispering about Justin Foley’s return even though it’s been three days since it happened. It gives Alex the opportunity to go unnoticed for the first time in a while and spend an ordinary meal with Jessica in the cafeteria after two Algebra classes and Physics.

“You don’t look good,” she comments, stealing some of the banana shake his mother packed for him in the morning. “Are things with Zach all right?”

“Why wouldn’t they be? I’m fine.” He wants to ask her if she’s fine, if Justin’s tried to contact her or not, if she’s ever going to be able to eat a meal without being the main subject of gossip. He doesn’t. “I just… don’t feel like going to PT today.”

“It’s your choice, Alex.” She’s simple and genuine. It’s the one thing he loves about her and her advice.

“Everything’s been clearer than ever lately and it’s scary,” he admits in a quiet voice over the clattering and chattering sounds filling the room. “I’m scary.” He can be honest with Jessica unlike anyone else and while he knows he’s not lying to Zach, he realizes he’s built a wall of sarcasm and irony and jokes only he can climb.

She places her palm over his, but the touch doesn’t warm him like Zach’s did earlier. Her fingers don’t cover his and aren’t rough or manly. They’re petite and thin. He doesn’t feel the need to make them stay.

“I know it’s tough, but it gets better. Or we lie to ourselves that it does.” She’s talking to him, but her eyes are far away and lost to a past he doesn’t have the right to know.

Alex turns his head towards the jocks’ table, where players and their girlfriends stay, where he once stayed. His seat isn’t empty and he’s not missed, but the look Zach’s giving him is anything but devoid of emotion. It has worry etched onto it, laced with affection and… something strangely shaped, out of order and so unlike him it’s an ugly feeling.

He turns his head away quickly, trying to convince himself it was his imagination. But, was it?

It was two o’clock when he texted Zach to tell him he’s not coming today. The weather outside is nice and the sport training is in full bloom. Zach is there, on the field, giving his best and Alex is far away from him, able to go unnoticed but notice the others. Zach’s shirt clings to his skin while he’s running and his dark hair is damp with sweat.

He briefly wonders if he’s read Alex’s message, since there wasn’t any reply or how he’d react if he did. A weird part of him wants to see it, to see whether he’d be disappointed or just behave like nothing’s wrong. Besides, he’s just an old friend, a new patient. What could he do?

They’re supposed to meet at four, work some more on motility. They should smile and laugh as if there isn’t a problem in the whole world. He’s sick of it, utterly bored.

Turning around to leave, he hits someone’s chest and loses balance, almost falling. The person was walking fast, obviously in a hurry. Looking up, he’s met with brown hair, broad shoulders and a face shadowed by a scary smirk.

“Look who’s come to our practice,” Montgomery says, grabbing a fistful of Alex’s shirt and heaving him to cut the distance between them. “Dear Standall,” the boy begins, voice sweet and innocent, “what the fuck are you doing?” In the end, he’s his true self, cold and distant.

“I was just passing by,” Alex mutters, a little dumbfounded since his brain cannot supply a clear image of the one in front of him. “Now let go of me.” He presses his fingers against Montgomery’s and tries to release himself from the hold.

“Aren’t you going to that trial?” Montgomery holds on even tighter, pressing Alex closer and closer to himself. By this time, a thread of panic has already poured in his blood. “Won’t you tell the truth, huh?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Alex doesn’t leave his eyes for even a second. He wants to escape, to punch Monty in his stupid face and go.

“Hannah’s trial, shitface. Come on, don’t tell me your boyfriend didn’t tell you about it,” Montgomery teases, but when he sees Alex’s clueless eyes, he laughs and finally decides to free him. “I get it, you trust each other and shit. But look where it’s gotten you.”

Alex hasn’t ever felt more exposed, less useless than at the moment, onto the grass on his knees in front of a boy he probably used to hate. He’s barely keeping up with the truth as it is, he needs to lift his body, use the remnants of his energy and leave for good this time. But he can’t.

“What - he’d have told me,” he says and knows it’s senseless to tell Monty this.

“Would he? Seriously? Did he tell you he’s a witness, then?” By this time, the asshole is enjoying the show so much that he whistles when steps approach them. “Oh, Dempsey. Your charity case is waiting for you.”

On his way further, he bumps his shoulder into Zach’s and strides towards the field. Zach barely pays any attention to him and uses his arms to lift Alex, but once the boy is on his legs, his knees threaten to let him fall again.

“What was it all about?” Zach asks, trying to see his friend’s eyes, but he keeps them hidden, emotions locked somewhere inside his mind.

“Are you going to Hannah’s trial?”

The question hits him like cold water, makes Zach curse and avoid Alex’s look. He’s unsure, Alex can see it in the way his jaw clenches, fingers strong in their hold onto his shoulders. He’s worrying his bottom lip continuously.

“I - believe me, Alex… I don’t -”

“When were you going to tell me?” he voices the words carefully, builds, destroys and rebuilds them in his thoughts before he speaks. “Did you even think how this would make me feel?”

Alex feels betrayed and maybe he has no reason to do so, but the way Montgomery treated him fueled his anger.

“Alex, we decided to tell you a little later… Believe me, I would’ve said it all. I would tell you every detail if only I knew you remembered everything. Your mother agreed to let me visit you, but I can’t cause scenes that could trigger unpleasant memories to you. Your mind needs time to recover all what is scattered in your brain right now. The last thing you need is to worry about it.” Zach’s face is red, his voice trembling slightly.

Alex sighs. “I get it, Zach. I don’t even know why… Why I’ve said all those things. I just wish I could be useful somehow. And what Montgomery said just…”

He cannot look into Zach’s pure, brown eyes. He keeps his head down, but two strong arms embrace him. Zach’s shirt exudes a smell of sweat where Alex’s face is pressed. A thumb touches his back lightly. Zach’s breathing is harsh, meeting Alex’s.

“I know you do. Alex, you’re so lucky you were strong enough to live. Don’t ever say you’re useless.” He whispers the words in the space made solely for them, one that could hold their secrets like they’re something precious. “Don’t tell me you’re useless. You’re important to me. And to Jess. To your parents.”

There was a pause after what he said, as if it were meant to be filled with something, more meaningful, more powerful. It just wasn’t the moment.

“I know.” Alex looks up at Zach and he has a hard time trying to part him from the sun. They shine the brightest, their light is unwavering and their warmth protective. “I know.”

“I should, uh, go back.” Zach rubs his nape and suddenly, the scene takes a turn. They’re like two boys in love, discussing a future date, neither one eager to let the other go.

“You should,” Alex agrees. Again, there’s a void begging to be filled. Before Zach leaves, he asks,“How did you know where to come?”

“I saw you earlier. Thought I’d come say hi.” Zach smiles, pats him on the back. “Everything’s right, isn’t it? Between us, I mean.”

Alex doesn’t need more than a few seconds to think about the answer, but he wants to play a little with him. He actually acts like it’s a tough question. Zach’s face looks crestfallen and that’s when he senses he should tell the truth.

“We are.”

Dempsey laughs and runs towards the baseball field.