Chapter Text
The summer between junior and senior year was supposed to be the summer of Alex and John. They were supposed to do everything together, roller skating, swimming, amusement parks, everything.
That all went to shit the first week after school.
The middle of the night is never a good time to get a call from your best friend, especially if that friend is John Laurens. Usually, a midnight call from John meant he just needed to hear someone’s voice while he painted at night.
John had insomnia, and it wasn’t uncommon for him to be wide awake and on a creative streak when the rest of the town was asleep. He tended to call one of his friends, a routine they had slowly started getting used to.
They switched off on who John should call, and tonight was Angelica’s night. So it was definitely weird that Alex was being roused from his sleep by the ringtone he set specifically for John.
”John, what? It’s Angie’s night, I’m Friday,” Alex said, still half asleep. The voice that came through the speaker was not John.
”Alex! Oh thank god you picked up, I-I don’t know what to do. Oh gosh, Alex this is bad, this is really bad,” Martha Laurens, John’s sister. It sounded like she was crying, and there were sirens in the background.
”Martha? I, what?” Alex asked, sitting up in his bed. He still couldn’t quite grasp what was going on. Why had Martha called him from John’s phone? Why was she crying? Too many questions, too late at night, his brain told him.
Martha continued to cry and blubber on the other end of the line, pitiful sobs wracking from her throat.
“Martha, what happened?” Alex brought himself to ask, shifting to turn the lamp on his nightstand on.
“First mom, and now this! What are we gonna do?” Martha cried. That was like a dunk of cold water. Alex woke up immediately, eyes wide.
First mom and now this? Elanor Ball Laurens had been dead for three years, Alex remembered comforting John, holding him while he cried. Going with him to the funeral, being his shoulder to cry on. Giving him space when he needed. The entire Laurens family was a mess, some of the warmth died with Mrs. Laurens. Nothing could be as bad as that. Nothing except..
”Martha. What happened.” Alex asked, though it didn’t sound like a question. Instead of answering, Martha let out a broken gasp. “Channel 7. Channel 7, Alex!” She practically shouted, frantic. Alex knew she meant business, rushing downstairs and turning on the tv.
The usual Channel 7 reporter was standing outside Alex’s high school, the rain outside pouring down over the edges of her branded umbrella.
”Breaking news! Senator Henry Laurens’ eldest son John Laurens was found in the Liberty Private High School’s pool, unresponsive. I’m standing here at the scene where the body was found, so far, no evidence towards the culprit. Was this a spur of the moment thing, or a planned assault? We’ll keep you updated as more information comes along. Back to you, Kris.” She finished with a sickeningly professional newscaster smile, and Alex felt nauseous.
The newscaster at the station said something about it being suicide, and Alex went pale. John had thought about committing in the past, maybe he..no. He wouldn’t do anything like that. John promised he’d live until he and Alex could change the world together. They were gonna write a book, John promised. They become famous, John promised. John would do a lot of crazy things, but to break a promise was never on the list.
”Oh god, Alex they’re trying to interview me, what do I do, I’m scared Alex.” He almost forgot Martha was on the phone with him. He vaguely registered the tv still playing as he brought his phone to his ear.
”We’ll be fine, it’ll be okay,” Alex wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince.
“No it won’t, Alex! John is dead, John is dead, Alex-” Martha sobbed.
“I know that! I know,” Alex tried to comfort her, failing. He was on the verge of collapse himself, and unfortunately his foster family wasn’t home. It would be a dream to have someone to fall on right about now, but he doesn’t. Martha and George were away, some late honeymoon cruise they didn’t want to take Alex on. They wouldn’t be back for another couple of days. Alex felt alone. And if Alex felt bad, Martha must be feeling 100 times worse. She needed a pillar more than Alex did.
”I’m coming, Martha. I’m coming.” Then he ran, out to his car. He didn’t even bother with his seatbelt, speeding down the streets to Liberty.
Alex found Martha quickly, pulling her into a hug, hoping he could shield her from the trauma. It felt like the world was spinning off its axis, everything was wrong, the flash of red, white and blue brought the taste of ash to his tongue.
Martha clutched his shirt, crying and muttering nonsense into his chest, and he rubbed her back, the same thing he did for John two years ago.
She was only 13, just starting high school, and she had already seen her mother and her brother die. Had life no sympathy? Did she not care that she was tearing families apart? Her cruel joke on the world?
They were wheeling John into an ambulance, and the sight made Alex sick to the core. His best friend, pale and lifeless. His freckles looked like sores, pointed out by the gross shades of purple and green from the bruises. He was soaking wet, dripping from the water he was pulled from. Alex remembered how John used to love swimming, looked so natural in the water, like a selkie returned to his source. He got the feeling John wouldn’t like swimming anymore after this. He threw up a little in his mouth.
Martha looked up, saw her brother and instantly began crying harder. She stuffed her face back into Alex’s chest, crying into Alex’s soaked shirt. Henry Laurens, someone who Alex wouldn’t normally be very happy to see, walked up to the two solemnly, and Alex didn’t think it was healthy how much his mood lifted, knowing that Henry cared enough about John to mourn him.
”Martha, we should head home.” He said quietly. Martha shifted from sobbing to quiet cries as she stepped next to her father, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “Ok,” she said firmly, a thousand words hidden behind it. She nodded at Alex, and he nodded back. He turned to leave.
”Alexander,” Henry’s voice stopped him. “I heard the Washingtons are gone for the weekend, you’re welcome to stay with us. I,” he hesitated. “John. Wouldn’t want you to be alone.” He finished. Alex nodded, leaving his car at the school for the night. He’d come back when he was ready to face the truth.
He ended up getting his car about a week later, not ready to head back to the school until he had almost recovered from the shock of losing his best friend. George and Martha let him mourn for a bit before trying to help him move on, stop mourning to the point of uselessness. John wouldn’t want Alex to be useless, he’d say ‘You? Not working? I thought I’d die before then.’ Alex didn’t want to disappoint John, even in the after life.
By July, there was finally word of John’s condition, and it wasn’t good. All the progress Alex had made in getting back to his normal life was instantly reversed with John being pronounced dead. He hadn’t heard from the Laurens’ in a week.
Martha called. Two days til the funeral, she said. I’d like you to be there. John would too.
So, despite all of his heart telling him not to, Alex attended the funeral.
Everything was off. It was too dark, too gloomy. Too colorless. John loved color. People were crying, John hated crying. Said it made him feel sticky and gross. There were sunflowers, the only thing John would approve of.
Martha came up to him after the service was over. Rainbow clip in her hair, glitter on her eyelids. Eyeshadow. Pretty. Like John.
”Hey,” she said, emotionless as Alex felt. She plopped down in the chair next to Alex, uncomfortable metal things that could withstand the morning dew. John loved the mornings, loved painting the sunrise, the sun rubbing the sleep from her eyes before brightening the world.
The two sat in a comforting silence. Martha decided to break it. “John would hate it here. He always told me he’d ‘put the-”
”fun in funeral.” Alex joined in, laughing a bit despite himself. John would always say that, he wanted a funeral that made people happy, not unnecessarily sad. He said that ‘half the people there probably didn’t like him, so why were they crying? Fake ass.’
”There you are.” Martha said, smiling a bit. “John would like this. Us, I mean. He always told me that we’d be spending a lot of time together, might as well enjoy it.” She sniffed, leaning on Alex’s shoulder and rubbing her eye. It struck him that this was Martha’s brother, yet here she was, comforting Alex. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? Why wasn’t Martha breaking down, suffering the way Alex was? Did she lose her appetite, he will, her drive?
Then Alex remembered. Martha had to stay strong, had no choice to. She had to be a solid force against the storm, for her siblings, her father, even all of John’s friends. It really put things into perspective.
Alex put an arm around Martha’s shoulder and let her cry, a silent companionship.
Eventually, the two got up to pay their respects, and Alex finally noticed the funeral was closed-casket. The shining wood showed his and Martha’s reflection, slightly distorted from the sun. Lillies and Sunflowers sat in a bouquet in the middle of the casket, right next to a picture of John. Alex was there when it was taken, at John’s 16th party, a year ago in October. Wild that the young boy in the picture, smiling brightly, happy, alive, was now hidden away in the dark of a casket, cold, pale, and dead.
Watching John be lowered into his grave, he silently wished his friends were here. Hercules went back to Ireland to visit his grandfather with his moms, Lafayette was in France with his family, while the Schuyler girls were at their summer home in London. He wondered if they even knew John was dead.
He said goodbye to Martha, gave a curt nod to Henry, and went home. Solemn. Quiet. Mournful.
Late that night, in the Laurens home, Martha paced the kitchen, slightly panicked.
”I don’t know, I just, I don’t feel good lying to him. He deserves to know.” She said, running her hands through her hair, a habit she had yet to break.
”Yeah, Dad. This isn’t right.”
Henry sighed. “I know, I know. But it’s just until we know you’re safe. You almost died, we don’t want that again.”
He rolled his eyes. “Dad, I don’t plan on like, announcing my life status to world, just to hang out with my friends. I don’t want to die either.” Martha nodded, taking the barstool next to him.
“Can we at least tell Alex?” She asked, grabbing his hand. He smiled at her attempt to help.
”No, not until we’re sure.” Henry said firmly. He waved to two kids away. “Now, it’s late. You two head to bed, we have to talk to the police tomorrow.”
They groaned, complaining as they went to their rooms. Henry put his head in his hands. Elanor, if she had lived, would not be happy with how he is handling this. But Elanor isn’t here. It only she was, maybe then it’d be easier. He thought back to the promise he made her before she died.
”Hank, promise me. When I die, you’ll keep my kids safe. They need you.” He promised.
He may have lost his wife, but he won’t lose his son.