Work Text:
John was walking back to his dorm in the evening from the library. He had his earphones in, minding his own business, when a car pulled over next to him. The window rolled down to reveal the person he least wanted to see there.
His father, Henry Laurens, was sitting in the backseat of the car, smiling coldly at John. Fear shot through him instantly.
What the hell was he doing here?
Did he know?
Alex wasn’t there. That was good.
They talked about meeting in their dorm before going out for drinks with the rest of the Revolutionary Set and the Schuyler sisters. Though that plan was probably out the window now.
John took out his earphones, and stopped the music on his phone. He quickly texted Alex a warning that his father was here, then put on his best fake smile and walked over to the car.
“Good evening Father!” he greeted the man as he got in.
“Nice to see you again, John.”
They shook hands.
“Can I ask what are you doing here?” John questioned.
“What? A father can’t just visit his son out of the kindness of his heart?”
Right. ‘Cause that was something Henry Laurens did all the time. Just visiting his son who went to university in an entirely different state without any reason at all.
John just stayed silent, looking out the window as the driver took them to the richer neighborhood. Anxiety was racing through his mind. If his father was here, it didn’t mean anything good.
Did he figure out that John was dating Alex?
Probably- hopefully not.
But John wasn’t sure anymore. He sank his fingernails into the skin of his palm. The pain helped him calm down a little.
After a while his father spoke. “I have a business meeting in the city tonight, but I thought we could get some dinner together before that. I’d like to talk to you about how your academics are going.”
“Sounds great to me.”
John wasn’t surprised his father was here because of some business, but the dinner part was still weird. Exam season wasn’t here yet, and his grades were still great.
The car stopped at a fancy restaurant. John felt under dressed as he walked in in just jeans and a hoodie. He saw his father look him up and down a bit disgusted. It was familiar by now, but no less hurtful.
After they ordered, light conversation settled in between them. They talked about the weather, John asked about the meeting, his father about everyday school life. Neither of them hid that they didn’t truly care about the other’s answer. Though it was enough small talk that John thought maybe things wouldn't go as downhill as he expected.
Of course he got his hopes up unnecessarily.
“I heard you failed your political theory exam.”
Oh.
So that’s what this is about.
“Yes,” John nodded, trying to keep his composure. That exam was a good while ago, he almost completely forgot about it. The class wasn’t worth much credits, and he had a pretty shitty day. “I’m sorry for that. I retook the exam and passed.”
His father scoffed a little. “You shouldn’t even have failed in the first place.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
John was starting to get annoyed. He was tired, spent most of the day studying and just wanted to go home to Alex. He didn’t have the energy for his father’s bullshit over a class that was worth like two credits.
“I expect better from you. What kind of example are you setting for Martha?”
At the mention of his sister John looked up from his food. She was the only weakness his father had complete control of. The only one whom he loved to use against him.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated. “It will not happen again.”
His father scoffed a little. “At least you’re not hanging out with those faggots, right?”
What.
The.
Fuck.
John tried to take a breath. He truly tried to calm down. But he was just so tired of this shit. Especially today. He had enough going on, and didn’t need his own father saying things like that.
“Right?” The older Laurens raised his eyebrows at the silence. John could see the anger sparking in his eyes.
“Don’t talk like that about my friends.”
It was a quiet sentence. But still an act of revolution. John wanted to swallow it back the moment he saw his father’s demeanor change.
“Do you know what kind of picture do you paint of your own family? They are disgusting, vile, and sick. You shouldn’t even go to a school with them.”
John’s blood boiled at the words. How dare he. How dare he talk like that about his friends, his love, him.
He stood up abruptly.
Rage blinded him for a moment.
He wasn’t sure what he said. The words left his mouth instinctively.
His father’s hand came down his face like so many times before.
The stinging pain burned his left cheek. Tears swelled in his eyes. Then John turned around and ran.
He wanted to get away.
From his father. From everything he meant. From the constant fear and judging. From the danger and the pain he brought on.
His breaths came short.
John slowed down a few blocks from the restaurant.
He collapsed on the sidewalk, trying to wipe the tears from his eyes. He stayed like that for a while.
˗ˏˋ ★ —————★ ˎˊ˗
John regretted it all by now.
He closed the door behind himself and sunk to the ground. Tears were running down his face, his breathing was irregular and his whole body was shaking.
He wasn’t sure how he managed to get back to his dorm room, but at least here, he was somewhat. safe.
John took out his phone with shaking hands. The screen blurred into a white spot through the curtain of his tears.
He wanted to text Alex.
He wanted to ask for help.
But his fingers wouldn't move. They just hovered in front of the screen before letting the phone drop to the floor.
John sobbed.
The better part of his mind took control and picked it back up. He typed out ‘help’. John wasn’t sure if that was really what he sent to Alex, but at least he tried.
He watched the phone fall again. The coherent part left his body instantly.
John curled into himself on the ground, letting his tears flow down. He could still feel the sting where his father slapped him. It probably bloomed red on his cheek now. Like the blood that connected them together. The blood he’d shed tonight.
Though, John knew he was lucky to only get that.
He talked back. He acted up. He fucking shouted at his father in public. If he was still living at home he wouldn’t be able to walk from the beating he would have gotten.
The room was quiet and dark. The only light came from the now abandoned phone. John fought to get control back over his body again, but it wouldn't cooperate with his thoughts. He tried to even his breathing out. He tried to swallow back his tears.
At least for a little bit.
Until he could make it better.
John slowly stood up, his head reeling with each step he took. He walked over to his wardrobe, and pulled out his sock drawer. Guilt washed over him as he reached for the one in the back. But it wasn’t enough to stop him. The sock was as generic as it could be. But that was the whole point of it. The important thing was what he hid inside.
He took the blade out. It was a small razor blade, nothing extravagant, just sharp and effective. Exactly what he needed.
John sat on the floor again, the firmness helped to ground him. But still, everything was too much. His father rarely cared about him. Only when he set the family in a bad light. He never loved him. While he was used to it, it still hurt. The only person who was supposed to love him unconditionally. Because they shared the same blood.
Now John wanted to get it out of himself. That blood only connected him to his sister. Never to his father.
He took a breath.
The blade sat comfortably in his hand. It was familiar. Something he knew well by now.
The endless possibilities of how every could go bad flooded his mind.
How his father could find out about him and Alex, how they would have to break up. He he’d be alone and helpless. The way his father would beat him to death. And then all his fury would fall onto his sister.
John had to cut.
Every thing he said to his father, he regretted so much. It put everyone he loved in danger.
Why did he have to speak up?
Why was he so stupid?
WHY?!
He cried out, letting the blade cross once more.
It was all his fault.
It was a mistake, a fucking big one. His father ordered him home for the weekend in a text after he ran away. John knew what to expect from it and he was terrified. Not to mention the what if’s that replayed in his mind.
What if his father found out about him and Alex?
What if somebody told him?
Oh God, it felt horrible.
He lowered the blade again, but not yet cutting, just resting it on his skin.
He shouldn’t do this. John knew that exactly. The first two were light, not even drawing blood, he could get away with those.
But all he cared about in the moment was that he needed a distraction. Something to make the pain away. Also he deserved it. He fucked everything up. There had to be some punishment for it.
He ran the blade down his wrist once, then twice, then for a third time.
The pain felt exhilarating.
It washed over John in waves. The rush pulled weight off of his shoulders. It freed him for a moment from all his worries. It gave him something to grab onto. Something he was familiar with.
He cut again, chasing the high.
The pain was sharper now. Blood trickled down his wrist, falling onto the blanket like blooming roses. The blood he shared with the person he hated the most on this earth. But also with the person who he swore he’d always protect.
And then he cut once more.
This one hurt. But he deserved the pain. John made the mistake. He fucked up, and now he had to pay for it. His father’s going to make him pay too, but he’ll do it for all different reasons.
And the pain.
God, he loved hated it.
It hurt in a such strange way. The pain dragged him through hell the same moment it lifted him up to heaven. It was the most beautiful and horrific thing at once. The duality of it reflected far too many things in his life.
Blood pooled on the floor below him. He’d have to clean it fast before it stained, though the thought only passed his mind, not sticking in the hurricane of his pain.
“Jack?!”
The strangled cry filled the room.
John’s eyes flew open and he dropped the blade from his hand. Alex was standing in the door, staring right at him.
“John, oh my god, what did you do?” he rushed to him.
“Nothing,” John gulped pulling his wrist close to himself instinctively. Not that it did much. His blood covered the floor dark red patches, and the razor blade laid not far from him.
“This is definitely not nothing-”Alex pulled his hand to check his injuries. “What happened? Is this because of your dad?”
John nodded, tears filling his eyes again. “We- uh… We fought-” his voice betrayed him as he started to sob.
“It’s okay, just breath with me” Alex tilted his head up to look him in his eyes. He placed John’s hand on his chest, gently counting with him.
It took a few minutes before John could breath normally again. Guilt washed over him, hitting him harder than he anticipated. He had made such a mess, not to mention he scared Alex so bad. And now Alexander was the one who was fixing his problems once again.
God, he was pathetic.
“I’m sorry…” John whispered as Alex bandaged it’s arm. He wanted to say more, to explain how horrible he felt, that he was burdening him again. But no words escaped his mouth.
Alexander looked up at him, his expression softened when he saw John’s pained look. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault.”
“But-”
“No buts” Alex shook his head. He placed his hands on John’s cheek, caressing where it was still red from the slap. “None of this was your fault, okay. You were alone and hurting. But now, I’m here to help.”
John knew he started to cry again, but these were happy tears. Because Alex was there. He’d protect him. He’d take care of him.
With a quick move, John pulled Alexander into a tight hug. His boyfriend hugged back immediately, his hand caressing his back.
“I love you Jack, and I’ll always be here for you.”
“Thank you” John sobbed into his shoulder.
They stayed like that for a long time. Alex didn’t let go, he never did unless John pulled away. But he didn’t do it either. He needed the hug. To know someone was there for him. Someone who would be always there for him.