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It looked bad.
Not even Alejandro's typical relaxed attitude could deny it; it looked bad.
It wasn’t like the surface layer cuts or scrapes he’d become used to— it was a proper wound that sliced skin, muscle, and flesh. The kind that needed stitches instead of a Band-Aid. The kind that hurt.
Some part of Alejandro had known it would be bad since he was struck in battle, but the rest of him had stubbornly denied it. Had chided him for hurrying off to the bathroom the moment he and his loves had made it to Heather’s house, refusing to de-transform until he was locked away. That voice was quiet now as he stood shirtless in the bathroom mirror, face-to-face with the bloody truth on his side.
Joder…
Alejandro pressed a towel close to the wound, and he tried to think of what to do next.
He couldn’t go to the hospital; even if that was the most logical option, he couldn’t. Not without running the risk of raising questions as to what had caused such an injury. Even if Alejandro was a great liar, there was no certainty that he would get away without any suspicions, much less criticism of his failure to avoid being injured. Not to mention any battle he might miss during a stricter recovery.
He was supposed to be a hero, wasn’t he? Someone who was strong and protected people. He couldn’t afford to be hurt.
Yet one hit was all it took, apparently.
Glancing down, Alejandro carefully lifted the towel. He cringed at the dark patch of blood that stained the white fabric red. He ran his free hand over his face. What now, what now, what now?
Alejandro startled at a sudden knock on the bathroom door.
“Did you pass out in there?” Heather asked from the other side.
“No, no! I'm good!” Alejandro said. He quickly discarded the towel at the bottom of the laundry basket, then dug around in the cabinets for something that at least looked like bandages. He wrapped it around his abdomen— pulling it as tight as possible to substitute for the stitches he wouldn’t get. Finally, he pulled his shirt back on, which thankfully didn’t have any visible blood on it.
Alejandro gave himself a quick look-over in the bathroom mirror, ensuring he looked no worse than he normally did after a battle, then walked out.
As the hallway outside was empty, Alejandro figured Heather had returned to her room. He exhaled; his whole body relaxing at having avoided a potential confrontation so quickly.
“Todo está bien. Estoy bien.” he told himself before directing his steps toward Heather’s bedroom.
They were mostly quiet— these moments after a battle. A stark contrast to the hectic scenes of fighting, offering the most sacred glimpses into a softer side hidden beneath the snide and apathetic. Neither Heather nor Noah noticed when Alejandro entered the bedroom. They were in the en suite, where Noah was carefully cleaning a bright scrape by Heather’s shoulder blade with a damp towel.
Cloaked in temporary invisibility, Alejandro traded the worries about the gash in his side for tender adoration. The kind that would lead him to be described as hopeless, had anyone witnessed it. Not that he minded; not even one bit.
“You started without me?” he said when he walked into the en suite.
Noah rolled his eyes to look at him, his lips quirked into the faintest smile, “You’re the one who locked himself in the bathroom.”
“I know. I’m just joking.” Alejandro chuckled easily. He made his way over to the sink to wash off the sweat still sticking to his face. As he did, he felt Noah and Heather watch him. Observing quietly like they so often did— calculating. Alejandro would’ve loved it had he not been their target; had it not made the ache in his side grow. He breathed deeply.
‘I’m fine. All is well.’
He could take it. He was a hero; he could take it.
***
Ever the perfect student, Alejandro was as attentive as ever the next day during school.
He'd swapped out the wrappings for proper bandages once he'd gotten back home from Heather’s. It hugged him tight and uncomfortably, but seemed to keep the wound still, so Alejandro could manage. Until he moved the wrong way, and a stabbing pain was sent through his side. It always happened suddenly and without warning, leaving him little to no room to play it off as nothing of note. Harold and Duncan had both caught him, though only the former seemed to care enough to ask about it.
Luckily, he was easily convinced that all was good. Most people were. Aside from Courtney.
She’d kept him under quiet watch all morning, brows knit in a troubled manner. But it wasn’t until the two of them were sitting in the library after lunch that she finally asked in a hushed voice, “Are you okay?”
There was an urgent sharpness to her voice. One Alejandro found difficult to decipher. As much as she sounded concerned, she also sounded annoyed. Disappointment even. He swallowed, suddenly feeling the weight of everyone present in the library— faking their studies so they could watch his every move without being caught.
“Of course.” Alejandro said, turning discreetly in his seat to shield his injured side, “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You seem more jittery than normal,” Courtney noted. She leaned closer over the table, “Did something happen with, you know?” the unspoken was relayed through a pointed look: your family.
Alejandro relaxed, though only slightly, “I appreciate your concerns, amiga. Fortunately, nothing has happened on that front.” he gave her an easy smile, “Guess I’m still a little tired after the fight yesterday. That’s all.”
Courtney nodded slowly— her eyes were locked intently on Alejandro, making it impossible for him to tell whether she believed him or not. A problem typically soothed by his confidence, but with everyone watching…
“Makes sense.” Courtney said, “I don’t think either Heather or Noah makes a good nurse.”
Alejandro chuckled, “You’d be correct in that assertion.”
“Am I also correct to assume that’s not the reason you follow them after every battle?” Courtney asked with a teasing grin.
“That I will not answer to.”
“You’re hopeless,” she reached over to shove at Alejandro’s shoulder.
It was a light touch, yet it made his injury burn worse than it had all day. Alejandro winced and just barely managed to stop himself from clutching his side.
Courtney moved back, “Are you sure you’re okay?” and once again, her voice was a muddled mess of conflicting sentiments. Worry and compassion; exasperation and discontent.
Involuntarily, Alejandro retreated. Doing his best to hide from the scrutiny surrounding him.
“I promise.” he said.
Courtney gave him a look— one that, by all logic, was sympathetic; if she thought whatever plagued him was because of his family, then she’d understand more than anyone. But in Alejandro’s mind, it was a glower of disappointment that pierced right through him to unveil the truth.
Pathetic.
Courtney left the subject at that, and Alejandro soon felt the watching eyes leave him be. The day continued unremarkably; schoolwork and cordial exchanges, and the slow mastering of the skill to hide when the injury decided to remind him of its presence.
With only one class left for the day, Alejandro’s confidence had almost been entirely restored. See? Hero.
He was walking through the crowded hallways when someone grabbed onto his arm. Alejandro turned his head to find Heather staring at him. He smiled, about to greet her, when she began pulling him along. She led him into a quiet part of the school— empty aside from Noah, who stood there waiting with his arms crossed.
“Okay, spit it out,” Heather said, letting go of Alejandro’s arm to face him once again, “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Uh, yes, you do.” Noah said, “You’ve been on edge this whole day. It might not be obvious to everyone else, but it is to us, so don’t even try it.”
“Nothing’s wrong, cerebrito. I can assure you.”
Noah arched a skeptical brow.
Alejandro frowned. He didn’t like the way they were looking at him, neither one of them. Like they knew more than they’d let show; piercing through him to dig around in his insides.
“Are we back on the ‘Alejandro is suspicious’ track?” he inquired in an attempt to shield himself. “The spell is broken. What would I even have to hide?”
“You tell us.” Noah said.
“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but there is nothing.”
‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’
‘All is well. I’m fine.’
“You’re such a liar.” Heather scoffed. She stepped closer, keeping Alejandro in place with her intense gaze, “You always have been, and I’m sick of it. Don’t we at least deserve some honesty?” she gestured to her and Noah. “Quit acting all high and mighty and just talk to us! Like, what even is your issue-?”
Heather stopped herself as Noah placed his hand on her shoulder. They shared a look, their combative stances relaxing— almost softening into something kind. Turning back to their third, silver and bronze held sharp and snug against his throat.
“The truth, Alejandro.” Noah demanded curtly.
Alejandro drew his lips to a taut line. He’d pull down every star from the night sky for Heather and Noah, even without them asking, but giving up the bloody truth? To surrender to the fact that he wasn’t strong enough, not worthy enough? That was a harder task.
The questioning wasn’t out of compassion— but to find proof of his weakness and uselessness. After all, what hero couldn’t take a beating?
Spare us the trouble and just admit it: you're no hero.
But Alejandro knew who he was talking to, and unlike back in the library, there were no prying eyes: just the three of them.
“And just why do you feel so entitled to know of my well-being?” he asked, a little softer than how he’d spoken before; a little braver, to hope for tenderness in return. For reassurance that the pain didn’t define him, and that he was still a hero despite it.
“Because we're your teammates.” Heather stated plainly, and Noah nodded once in agreement. So completely unaware of the damage they’d done.
“Teammates.” Alejandro echoed, somber and grim. “Figured ‘partners’ was a better term.” he confessed quietly— almost hoping they hadn’t heard him.
But of course, they had, and they changed upon hearing it. As if suddenly remembering soft touches and kind words; bandaged wounds and kissed bruises. As if, maybe, they’d realize their mistake and seek to rectify.
Alejandro waited patiently for it. For either one to break the silence that had settled around them. Neither did.
Alejandro gritted his teeth, “Where's your wit, mis amores? Or did it get too difficult? Did it get too real?” Heather and Noah’s faces twisted in discomfort.
“Go on, then; tell me I’m wrong. And if you can’t, then I guess this has all been a waste of our time. Though I would’ve appreciated it if you’d have told me so from the beginning. But I guess I’m not one to judge when it comes to stringing people along.”
“That's not fair.” Noah managed, but his bitterness subsided before he could continue, “That’s… It’s not…”
“I never said it was.” Alejandro spat. “But fine, we’ll have it your way.” he walked off before either of his teammates could object.
***
Heather and Noah both kept away from him the next day. Sat as far away from him as they could in class, changed their routes when walking in the hallways so they wouldn’t pass him.
Alejandro hated it. With every ounce of his being, he hated it.
Because while they were avoiding him, they weren’t ignoring him. He felt their eyes on him all throughout the day— cautious glances, pitying and regretfully soft, lingering.
The fragile spell they were under broke each time Alejandro returned their gazes. Then, Heather met him with scowls, and Noah with pure indifference, before turning away.
But it was fine. Just fine.
Alejandro breathed in the crisp air of early autumn. He was in gym class, out on the field playing soccer, which should’ve been fun. It was usually fun. But Heather and Noah were infesting his mind in the most unpleasant way.
“Because we’re your teammates.”
Teammates.
Teammates.
Alejandro passed the soccer ball to Tyler— perhaps kicking it a little too hard, as his injury complained with a stab sharper than the ache caused by running. Alejandro paid little mind to it, pushing past to deliver the prowess he was known for.
He could take a bit of discomfort.
Alejandro ran alongside his teammates as they moved back and forth across the field.
Teammates.
Was that really all he was?
Of course it was. Heroes or not, the original five Rangers were far from hospitable— far from considering anyone anything more than a light acquaintance or convenient relation. Even each other. What made Alejandro think he was the exception?
What made Alejandro think that his adoration and devotion for Heather and Noah were mutual? That what they had was special?
It meant nothing; it never had. Not when he'd carried Heather home after she'd sprained her ankle too badly to walk, or when he'd removed the small glass shards stuck in Noah's face after his visor had been shattered. Not when he made them laugh, or when he lost to either one and was rewarded with smug grins; or when Heather asked him to help her practice ballet; or when Noah asked him to join him on a walk with his dog.
Not when they'd so often fall asleep cuddled up next to each other, all three of them; leading to the most peaceful nights of Alejandro's life.
It didn’t mean anything at all. And if Alejandro wanted it to— then too bad!
He should've known better than to wear his heart on his sleeve and dare to be vulnerable.
Lost in his thoughts and deprecations, Alejandro lost track of where he was. Didn’t see it as a body came barreling towards him. Only in the collision did he notice it. The impact was heavy and knocked him off course— both mentally and physically.
Alejandro fell to the ground, landing in a puddle of intense pain as fireworks ignited in his side to rip him apart from the faulty seam.
His breathing became rapid and shallow as he stared up at the patches of white dancing across a blue sky. A buzzing rang in his ears; the only discernible thing in his mind repeated like a mantra: It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.
“Shit!” a voice suddenly broke through, and in the next moment, DJ appeared in his vision. “I-I didn’t mean to run into, are you okay?”
As Alejandro tried to work up some false assurance that all was fine, he saw the movement of more people coming closer. All attention was on him, caging him under scrutinizing eyes, just desperate to hear him admit to what they already knew.
You’re no hero; you’re too weak.
Alejandro broke out before they could lock the cage. He ran away from the field and toward the school, ignoring the calls sent to recapture him. Like a wounded animal, he ran for his life. On a bad trip of adrenaline and panic, where everything read danger no matter where he turned.
Alejandro didn’t know where to go— he just had to get out; get away. But his surroundings kept blurring together, trapping him and making him trip over his own feet.
Alejandro slammed one of his hands against the wall, searching for balance in a spinning world.
Blood was beginning to leak through the bandages, running down his skin and staining his shirt.
Why did it feel like the wound was stretching further than it used to? Wasn’t it supposed to heal?
He slid down the wall unwillingly. His legs were giving out despite the urgent need for them to keep strong. Alejandro was left a pathetic pile on the floor— open to every and all attacks.
‘Get up.’
‘Someone could see you, get up.’
‘They can't see you like this.’
‘Get. Up.’
But he couldn’t. It hurt too much to move— to breathe. Still, he continued to scream at himself, even as his vision began to fade.
Because he was a hero. He should’ve been able to take it.
All is well now.
Pay no mind.
All is well now.
I’m just fine, I’m just fine.