Chapter Text
Alex looked up the definition of self-care once, after a discussion in his psychology class—“caring for yourself to ensure your physical and emotional needs are met.”
He had the physical part down—he was active at the gym and he tried to run daily. Active on the lacrosse team. Hell, he was captain. Sure, he could probably stand to eat more consistently, and when he went on runs he could have been more gentle with himself. He drank more coffee than water and his sleep schedule was—okay, he could be better about that too.
And as far as emotional needs? He had his teammates—sure, no one besides Liam was a friend , but it’s alright. He’s had relationships—not that they’ve lasted because he was too busy to give them the time they deserved. He did things he enjoyed—sometimes.
Okay, okay. Alex knew he wasn’t doing as well as he could be with “self-care.” But he’s fine. He’s always fine. He couldn’t be anything else.
——
In 11th grade, Alex had a moment that slapped him across the face—not literally, but it was a stark reminder. Part of him wished he could forget, but it was something meant to stick.
Alex was involved in school. Involved meant lacrosse team captain, student body president, member of the debate team (and part of him thought about dropping it because of scheduling conflicts, but he enjoyed it too much to let it go yet), and to top it off, he was taking more AP classes than anyone in his grade, and passing all of them with flying colors.
June was at UT so she couldn’t tell him to ease up on the gas, mom announced her intention to become the President of the United States this month so she was all over the place, dad was a California senator so he was busy, so Alex had virtually no oversight to tell him to cool his jets. He wasn’t on his own, per se, but if he was a more mischievous kid, he could get away with a lot of shit.
There were check-ins—June texted every day and came home every other weekend to hang out with him even though UT Austin’s campus was 5 minutes away, Leo was home more often than not, but he usually respected Alex’s space, understanding Alex liked to be alone when he was in the zone, and mom and dad also tried their best, but there was a lot going on, given the presidential development. Alex was going to California less frequently because of his schedule. Dad understood when they talked, which Alex was endlessly grateful for. He didn’t want dad to think he was avoiding him. That wasn’t the case, but he had to tell dad to be safe.
He was having a rough week. He felt everything more than usual. He was rushing more—he was usually ahead on everything , and for once he felt like he was falling behind. He wasn’t focused in class at all. Physics sounded like the teacher was speaking Greek. AP English was going over Hamlet and he was lost. He was in the library during lunch trying to play catch up. Trying to make sure he’d be fine for the upcoming week, and the one after. He startled when the warning bell rang and ran off, almost running into Ms. Fiske, the librarian. He said a rushed apology before running to AP Psych. And it felt like a cosmic joke when the teacher told them they were starting the “Stress and Coping” module.
Luckily AP Psych was his last class of the day. As soon as the bell rang, he ran out, taking the familiar route out of the building and to his locker. He shoved everything in and ran to the busses, feeling his backpack straps dig painfully into his shoulders.
He got home and pulled his key off his necklace. It took two tries to get the keys into the lock. He opened the door and kicked off his shoes. He yelled a quick “Hey!” in case anyone was home, but no one responded. He dropped his backpack in the kitchen and went to look in the garage. His car was in its spot, but mom’s car was gone.
He pushed the button on the garage door opener and didn’t see Leo’s car in the driveway, even though he probably could’ve gotten that when he opened the door to the house in the first place. He shut the garage and sat at the kitchen table. He pulled out his physics homework first. He figured if he could get the worst thing out of the way first, he’d have an easier time with everything else.
He opened his textbook and the equations stared back at him like a mortal enemy. It made more sense than when he sat in class, but he realized he didn’t understand. It was a new feeling, and it made his chest tight. He bounced his leg frantically, trying to calm his energy. Trying to find a way to distract himself from feeling lost. He practiced the thing they talked about in psych class that he couldn’t remember the name of, but it helped a bit.
He walked away from the table to grab a snack. He realized as he grabbed the apple slices, his stomach was screaming as he remembered he skipped lunch to be in the library. He grabbed some peanut butter for protein and sat back down. He crunched on apple slices, intermittently taking swipes of peanut butter and hunkered down.
He went through other assignments and didn’t realize the passage of time. He didn’t even acknowledge Leo grasping his shoulder to let him know he was there. Didn’t hear Leo saying, “hey, I brought home some chicken parm from the pizza place. It’s in the fridge for you.” He was in a haze of notes and homework, some of which he was already ahead on, but he thinks he murmured a “thanks Leo” before digging his head into his textbooks.
About an hour later, he felt sore from the kitchen chair and needed to stretch his legs. He felt tired, but fine. And it was still early enough to eat some ice cream before bed. He searched the fridge for cajeta and came up empty. With a frown, he shut the fridge, and looked at his phone. H-E-B would still be open, and he was still within the legal window for driving for another two hours. He shouted up to Leo.
“Hey, I’m going to the grocery store really quick, do you need anything?”
Leo came down and smiled at him. “No thank you, Alex, but thank you for asking. Let me know when you get there, okay?
Alex appreciated Leo’s concern, even though he didn’t necessarily get it for a quick trip. “I’ll be gone for a half hour tops, but I can shoot off a text.”
Leo smiled. “That would be appreciated. You seemed really focused when you were working, and I couldn’t get you out of it for anything.”
At that exact moment, Alex’s stomach betrayed him with a growl. “Yeah, we’re out of cajeta and I really wanted some ice cream before bed. I did notice the food in the fridge and I will totally eat it at school tomorrow.” He meant it too, because it did look really good, but the heart wanted what it wanted.
He grabbed his car keys off the hook and went to the garage. He went through checking his mirrors and putting on his seat belt with a yawn. He shook it off before turning on the ignition. He drove through the familiar streets with ease. His head dipped a few times, but the streets were surprisingly empty so he was able to shake himself out of it.
He parked the car and ran in, knowing the aisles by heart. He grabbed what he needed and a few more things that caught his eye before going to self-checkout and heading out. He still felt tired, the day hitting him now that he had some time to breathe, but he’d get home, eat ice cream, sleep, and go to school the next feeling more confident now that things made more sense.
He stretched again, rubbing at his eyes. The tiredness was all hitting him now and he realized he forgot to text Leo.
Leo
made it safe and on the way home see u soon
He didn’t wait for the response before throwing the bag and his phone on the seat next to him. Alex had to blink a few more times than usual to get himself in the zone, but he was able to do it and put the car in drive.
He was about 5 minutes from home when it happened. His head dipped again, and the next thing he knew, his car was up on the sidewalk and into the trunk of a tree that lined the entrance to the park. He heard the sound of the crash, and it shook him into awareness, but he was still so tired. He was aware of things going on around him, but he couldn’t really lift his head from the steering wheel. He felt so heavy. He didn’t acknowledge the airbag curling around him.
He didn't really register what happened until he was surrounded by flashing lights and on a backboard with a neck brace and a shining light in his eyes that he had to look away from.
He groaned weakly when someone asked him a question.
“Can you tell me your name?”
“Alex Claremont-Diaz.”
“Okay, that’s good. How old are you?”
“Seventeen.”
Easy questions. He could answer easy questions.
“Do you know what day it is?”
“Um…Wednesday. I, uh, ran into the librarian…fuck. during lunch. yeah.”
He vaguely heard the guy talking, something about car crashes and concussions, and his name, but the rest of it doesn’t process in his brain. He doesn’t remember being loaded into the ambulance. Doesn’t remember the questions they asked him when he gets to wherever he is.
He came back to awareness in a hospital room. He didn’t know the amount of time that passed. He was only aware of pain. His body felt like a singular bruise, focused around his head with a shift into his core. He was somewhat aware of the weight of a hand, but it all felt so hazy. He opened his eyes and immediately shut them because bright. Alex had never been more disoriented in his life. He heard a familiar voice call out, with a word he’d heard a million times from when he could remember words.
“Sugar?”
He couldn’t pinpoint the direction of the voice, but he groaned vague assent. And from there, it was voices and words he didn’t completely pick up on.
He felt like a stuck pig when they were doing what they “needed to do”, but along the line, the pain faded out into more floaty ignorance.
When he was conscious again, he was more aware. His head was still pounding, and his face and body hurt, but he was awake. The lights were still too bright, and again, the familiar voice asked the same word.
“Sugar? You with me?” That was mom. Mom was here. He was under scratchy sheets and not in his clothes, and he’d unpack that when he didn’t feel like he went through a blender.
“Mom?” He asked. He didn’t realize how his voice sounded in its state of disuse.
“My baby.” She said, and that wasn’t something he heard her say in a long time, usually it was ‘sugar or Alex or other variations when he was in some sort of trouble.
He thought he said, ‘what happened’, but it came out like “wha happen?”
She ran a hand through his curls, touched him like he was made of porcelain. “Leo told me you went to the grocery store for some cajeta” That’s right. He wanted a snack before bed. “You texted him when you were on your way back, but it had been too long, so he called me, but I was in D.C. waiting for the flight home. Then your dad called me and told me you were at Ascension Seton…”
Alex had questions. How did they know to call dad? Why didn’t they call mom first? “You’ve been here before so they had your emergency contacts on file. I was first on the list, but I was on the phone with Leo, so I didn’t see it.” He said that out loud...shit. “But I’m here, and you’ll be stuck with me for a while.” She said that as if it was bad. But it was good. He wanted her here.
Mom methodically went over a list of injuries and how long he’d be here before getting to go home. The list included a broken nose (small blessing was it could be fixed with no surgery), bruised ribs, whiplash, and a moderate concussion). He didn’t process everything, but the pain was bad enough that he got the idea. Mom said he’d be staying one more night before getting to go home, and then they’d have to wait another week before he’d be good to go back to school, and that was still a question. None of it really mattered though. He was in the in between place of terrible discomfort and sleep.
The one thing he was aware of was mom’s thumb rubbing circles into his head like she did when he had headaches as a kid, and that was nice.
He was home now. The ordeal itself was a 3-day affair, and apparently full recovery was possible within 4-6 weeks. Maybe more, but definitely not less. He had to ice his ribs every few hours, and he was on a strict regimen of Motrin every 6 hours and limited screen time. June was around and she tried to give him non-screen time things he could do to ease the unbearable boredom, but none of them were interesting to him. Fuck knitting and the idea of crosswords made his eyes twitch when all the letters melded together.
Alex had regained full awareness, and with that awareness there was a list of things that were awful:
- He was still in a lot of pain
- He was behind on school work
- He was basically out from lacrosse until April, which meant he was missing most of the season
- His car was totaled.
- His mom was taking time away from figuring out president stuff because of him
He had so many other things on his list, but his head was starting to hurt when he thought of them. Alex knew with the last one, mom wouldn’t care, and she even said so when he was in the haze of meds and he apologized to her for it. She gave him a lecture he didn’t fully process that no matter what, he and June came first and she was happy the situation didn’t end up worse.
He went back to school a week later, and he was the biggest news. Apparently, the rumors went as far as death, but no, Alex Claremont-Diaz was alive–bruised to hell, but not broken. There were well wishes shoved in his locker, and all of his teachers gave him grace on assignments. The lacrosse coach told him not to worry about his position on the team because of this, and if he could play before the end of the season, he’d be welcome with open arms. It was all nice. It didn’t make a lick of difference about how he was feeling, but it was nice all the same.
Weeks went by and he recovered. The bruises went from blue and purple to green and yellow around his eyes. He was able to move without aches and pains around his ribs. He wasn’t as sensitive to the light, and he was able to focus on words again without them bleeding together in a confusing mess. He was fine, just like the doctors said he would be by the end of this. His life went back to normal. He still thought about it, and he asked everyone to take a different route to the H-E-B so he didn’t have to pass the park, but overall, he recovered, and he was able to get through the rest of the year relatively unscathed.
He got lectures from mom, dad, and June about getting enough sleep, about making sure he didn’t get too lost in the sauce, about taking breaks, and he took them to heart. He worked really hard at it, because he wanted to be better, and he never wanted this to happen again. He was going to learn from this. He didn’t want anyone to have to worry about him, because they had their own things to worry about. He had it under control.