Merry Christmas everyone! This is my gift from me to you.

This is a hard chapter, so uh, let's get into it. Notes at the end.

TW: suicide

X

It starts with a list.

All the things Alex wanted to do with his friends, all of the things they had never gotten around to- he made time for them.

He finished Gossip Girl with Lafayette, who made copious amounts of popcorn (and in doing so almost short-circuited the microwave in the student lounge). Alex ate every bowl Laf set in front of him, no matter the amount of butter and salt slathered across it. He could sense the relief that rolled off Laf's shoulders every time he ate something, and in return, he felt his own relief- that finally he wasn't being a burden.

He took the Schuylers to coffee, not just on campus, but in the city. They strolled through Central Park and fed the ducks, drinking coffee so strong it left sludge at the bottom of the cup while avoiding tourists and gaggles of joggers all dressed in extremely tight leggings and neon tennis shoes. Alex stared at the gray New York sky, taking in the cold air and the bustling city moving around him, as though it had a life of its own. The energy that surged through the masses was invigorating- so many people, so many dreams. It was overwhelming...and wonderful.

He'd miss it.

He helped Hercules design a line of clothing for one of his classes, though once he knocked over a stack of folded fabrics for the fifth time he was instructed to sit in the corner and watch Project Runway until he could differentiate velvet from velour. Alex supplied coffee and steamed dresses- which made his hair curl in ways that it hadn't since Nevis, and when Lafayette walked in on Hercules piling his hair into an updo worthy of one of the models on screen he had to walk into the hallway.

They could hear the cackling from his place on the stairwell.

It was the best few weeks of Alex's life- his friends finally happy, living the way that they should have been all along.

It was just another confirmation Alex needed- without him, they were better off. He had stumbled into their lives, screwed it up in ways that were unforgivable. He didn't want to see them suffer anymore, especially after seeing first hand how much of their lives he had screwed up.

Laf, who had discovered him almost dead on the bathroom floor.

Hercules, coaxing him through one of the worst panic attacks of his life, while they were supposed to be supporting John.

Eliza, the one that bandaged his arms and talked him through a breakdown bad enough to almost land him back in the hospital.

And John- the person he loved the most.

The person who he'd destroyed the most.

He had put John through so much...for what? His family life was a disaster, his school year had been one Alex-related incident after another.

And through it all...he had stayed. He had stayed to see it through to the end. Through all the tears, the screaming, the nights spent with John's arms wrapped around him while he shook and sobbed.

He had stayed, and Alex had wrecked him in the process.

He didn't want to do that to anyone else.

He couldn't.

Not anymore.

X

"I'm heading out."

Alex turned. John was shouldering into his coat, his bag by his feet.

"Okay. Don't study too hard. I'll feed Charlemagne while you're out." He adjusted the teetering stack of books on his desk, lining up the spines and tucking papers away.

He made his way over to John, wrapping his arms around him and resting his head on his chest. "I love you."

John pulled away, a confused expression on his face. "I love you too? I'm just going to the library." He chuckled.

"I know. I just realized that I don't say it enough." Alex smiled. "I love you."

"And I-" John kissed his forehead, "love you. I'll see you later, 'kay?"

"Yeah," Alex handed him his bag. "I'll see you later. Watch out for black ice, okay? Don't slip and break your leg or something."

John laughed. "I won't, I promise." He opened the door. "Byeeee!"

Alex waved. "Bye."

The door shut.

He was alone.

Again.

X

Their room was clean. Alex's clothes, which usually littered the floor around his bed, had been corralled to the hamper or folded away under his bed. His desk was neat, papers stacked and organized according to class. Charlemagne was fed and happily swimming around in his tank. So was Tony, who swished his tail and ducked into a clump of plants.

The note was sitting on top of his closed laptop, which was powered down and silent.

He went into the bathroom. Amber pill bottles were lined on the counter.

He took the sleeping pills first, washing them down with the bottle of vodka he'd acquired so many months ago. Next was the half-empty bottle of Nortriptyline, then the Venlafaxine, and finally the full bottle of Zoloft, which he'd refilled two days before.

Then, feeling like he was watching himself from above, he calmly smashed one of John's shaving razors against the counter until the blades fell out. He picked one up, slid the floor, which was tilting dangerous, and cut until he couldn't feel anything.

He didn't know whether it was from the meds or the alcohol or the blood running down his arms.

He lay down, staring at the ceiling, which spun like a Tilt-A-Whirl, and closed his eyes, praying to a god he didn't believe in.

Please, if you're up there, let this work. Just let me die. I don't want to hurt them anymore.

Just let me die.

Please.

X

John jogged up the stairs, his bag thumping against his shoulder blades, heavy with textbooks and term papers. He knew study group was important, and that he probably wouldn't be passing at least two of his classes without it, but most of the time it drained him for the night. He was looking forward to taking a long, hot shower, cuddling with Alex, and going to bed.

He unlocked the door, stepped through, and dumped his bag at the end of his bed, shoulders aching.

The room was empty, the door to the bathroom closed, and it was suspiciously clean.

John's eyes moved from the neat floor, to the made beds, and landed on the note folded on Alex's closed laptop.

His gaze darted to the bathroom door. Light crept across the floor from the crack at the bottom, but John could see a distinct space where a shadow was.

"Alex?"

There was no answer, and John's heart rate sped up, skipping a beat as panic crept in.

"Alex, are you in there?"

No answer.

John stepped forward and closed his hand on the doorknob, jiggled it around.

It was locked.

"Alex!" He frantically twisted the knob, pressing his shoulder against the solid wood.

The key.

The thought sparked in his brain and he turned around to rifle through his desk, fingers scattering pencils and pens in his hasty search.

It wasn't there.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-

Alex must've taken it with him.

A terrifying thought was forming in the back of his head, too large to ignore.

Please God no-

He jammed his shoulder against the wood again, trying to get it to budge.

Nothing.

Panic was building quickly in his chest, tightening and twisting his lungs and ribcage.

He lifted his foot and kicked in the door.

The sound of wood splintering and metal being ripped from the wall was loud, but John's scream was louder.

It ripped itself from his throat, raw and shrill, the kind that an animal makes when it's in terrible pain. His heart stopped, squeezing painfully in his chest, and John's legs gave out. He slapped his hand on the counter to keep himself up, knocking over an empty pill bottle, and half sobbed, half screamed again.

He couldn't even see Alex.

How could he, through all the blood?

X

John didn't remember calling nine-one-one. He didn't remember tearing the door off of it's remaining hinges still stuck to the wall so that he could crawl his way to Alex. He didn't remember prying away the razor still loosely clutched in Alex's fist.

He did remember wrapping Alex's wrists in a towel, the striped one that he had always favored, and then wrapping another one around the first when the puddle of blood soaked through. He remembered the way Alex's lips were an awful blue-ish purple, and his face was white, and how his hands were cold to the touch.

These details he would see over and over again for months: Alex, dying. Alex, maybe already dead.

John gathered Alex in his arms, blood making his fingers slippery as he cradled Alex's limp body against his chest.

Tears were rolling down his face and dropping onto Alex's bloodstained shirt as he bent his head, his forehead touching Alex's, and sobbed.

"Don't leave me, Alex, please don't leave me, please, please, please," he pleaded. "I can't lose you too. Please don't do this, sweetheart."

Somewhere between making the call and the paramedics arriving, time stretched infinitely. Seconds became days. Minutes became years.

John found himself praying, something he hadn't done in years. Growing up Catholic, he was taught that any homosexuality was a one way trip to hell. Given this, he didn't exactly have a great relationship with God.

And anyway, he'd stopped praying around the time his mom's cancer treatments stopped working.

Now, he filled the silence with all the words he hadn't spoken in years, pleading with the universe for a reset button.

The door crashed open as paramedics rushed into the room. They forced John out and took over, strapping Alex to a backboard and attaching a neck brace while John stood back, eyes wide and scared, his blood-soaked shirt sticking to his chest.

"Did he take anything?" This came from a tall medic with ginger hair, his expression caring and open. John wordlessly handed him the empty pill bottle, his gaze still locked on Alex's prone, pale form.

The elevator ride down to the first floor passed in a tense blur. John numbly clutched Alex's limp hand, ignoring the medic who was applying pressure inches above him.

He stumbled behind the stretcher as he tried to dial Lafayette's number, but he couldn't feel his fingers. They fumbled with the screen, and he almost dropped the device. In the back of his head, he knew that he was probably going into shock, but the thought was pushed aside quickly.

"Are you coming with?" The paramedic who had spoken to him earlier was watching him, poised to close the doors to the ambulance. John nodded and gingerly pulled himself inside, slipping his hand around Alex's as he watched his chest rise and fall in slight breaths.

The ride to the hospital was silent, broken only by the sound of the sirens, which soon faded into watery background noise as John's vision tunneled to accommodate only Alex. His skin was the color of milk with a total of five drops of coffee in it. It no longer resembled the glowing mocha color it had been at his arrival on campus; now it was a ghastly washed-out version, like a sweater run one too many times through the washer.

His hair, too, had changed from a stark curtain to limp strands matted with blood, spread across the backboard and tangled in the velcro of the neck brace. John pulled his gaze away from the blood-clotted strands and forced himself to focus on Alex's hand.

The arrival at the ER entrance was a flurry of movement as paramedics unloaded Alex and rushed through the bay doors. Nurses crowded around him, shouting instructions and cutting into the hem of his shirt with scissors, the blood-soaked material discarded to the side.

John scrambled out of the ambulance after them, trying to follow the medical team through the trauma room doors. A nurse with teddy bear scrubs intercepted his path. She put a gentle hand on his shoulder and stepped in front of him, and while he could hear her explaining that he couldn't follow, that it was hospital procedure, it was as though she was speaking through a water-logged speaker. He stared after the stretcher and the glass-plated doors that it had disappeared through as Alex was wheeled into Trauma Room 1.

Haunted eyes watched and watched.

X

Alexander Hamilton died at 6:04 PM.

He was resuscitated at 6:06 PM, after being shocked three times with a defibrillator while doctors hammered on his chest and John screamed outside of the trauma room, banging his hand on the window until an orderly dragged him out into the waiting room.

Covered in blood, kicking and screaming, he was shoved into a chair and told to stay there.

He immediately got up, shaking, and this time the nurse in teddy bear scrubs was standing in front of him again, pushing him back, and he shook his head. "No, no, I need to be with him, I need to be there, that's my boyfriend, he needs me!"

"Sir, the doctors are doing all they can, you need to wait out there."

John shook his head again, "Please, please let me see him."

"I'm sorry, I can't," she said, and when he realized that he had no way to get to Alex he sank down and stared blankly at the doors. His vision tunneled, focusing on the windows in the doors to the trauma unit, and he watched them like they were a lifeline, waiting, hoping, that someone would come out.

He heard the ER doors open and close, and then footsteps jogging down the tiled hallway.

"John!"

It was Hercules who had spoken, Lafayette in tow behind him. They both had frantic, wide-eyed looks on their faces and were disheveled.

"What happened?" Hercules came to a stop in front of him, and John noticed that his sneakers weren't even tied.

John shook his head, "Alex, he-" The words caught in his throat, and he seemed to realize the situation all over again. Great, shuddering sobs overtook his body, sending him gasping for air through the tears.

"There was so much blood-so much, I thought he was already dead, he looked dead, oh my god Laf he looked dead-"

Lafayette sank into a chair next to him, pale and shaky.

"And then- then his heart stopped, it just stopped, and they wouldn't let me in, and-"

John couldn't breathe. All of the air in the world had disappeared. It was as though Alex had taken it with him.

He sank to the floor, his legs giving out, and Hercules knelt next to him, one hand on his back.

"John- John. Hey, listen to me, okay? Listen to me. You have to breathe. Deep breaths, listen to my voice. Breathe. Focus on me. I'm right here, Laf is here, it's going to be okay."

John fumbled, his fingers grasped weakly at Hercules' coat sleeve.

"Yeah, I'm here. Right here, okay, the Schuylers are on their way, everything's going to be alright." Herc was speaking in low, calm tones, ones that didn't seem to mesh with the situation unraveling around them.

"He looked so dead," John gasped. His eyes were unfocused. "I can't lose him, Herc, I can't-"

He closed his eyes, put his head against Hercules' chest, and sobbed.

X

The door to the emergency room burst open, and John knew that the Schuylers had arrived.

He lifted his head from Hercules' chest, the fabric thoroughly soaked through. and watched as Angelica rushed over to them. Lafayette was still staring at the wall, his face expressionless, eyes blank.

"What-" Angelica's voice was a distressed growl, "the. Fuck. Happened."

Hercules slowly detangled himself from John and stood up, taking Angelica's arm and ushering her away from John, where he spoke in hushed tones.

Peggy rushed in to take his place at John's side, kneeling on the floor next to him and gathering him in a hug. Eliza chose a chair next to Lafayette and took his hand, holding it tightly in hers.

Peggy managed to coax John into a chair, where he sat with his head in his hands, tears rolling steadily down his face and dripping onto the floor as she ran a hand up and down his back.

Across from him, Angelica was shaking her head. Hercules laid a hand on her arm, and she pushed it off roughly, covering her mouth and looking away. He said something quietly, and she turned away. "I'm getting coffee," she said gruffly. "I'll- I'll be back."

Her heels clicked hurriedly as she rushed away. Hercules watched her go, then came over and joined the group, switching seats with Eliza and taking Laf's hand in her place. Eliza stood up, gaze locked on the nurses counter. "I'm going to talk to them. See if there's anything new."

John lifted his head and followed her path, eyes half focused. He could see her, turquoise sweater and jeans, making her way over to talk to the teddy bear nurse.

In the other half of his field of vision, he saw Alex, soaked in blood and pale on the floor of their room.

He was shaking, so hard that it shook Peggy, and she looked at Hercules, concern written all over her face.

Through the rushing water filling his ears John could hear her talking. "I think he's in shock...could we get a blanket or something?"

A moment later a blanket was draped over his shoulders. Peggy adjusted it so that it covered most of his body, and John clutched at a corner dimly. Nausea swirled in his stomach, churning with all the terror and blistering pain that stabbed his chest.

He stood up, the blanket crumpling to the floor, and walked away, body numb. He heard footsteps behind him, following him into the bathroom, where he went into a stall and heaved, one hand braced against the toilet seat.

Someone gathered his hair in a ponytail, muttering words that he couldn't make out. He threw up until his legs gave out, and then he slid to the floor, eyes closed, as the toilet flushed. A cup of water was pushed into his hand, and when he opened his eyes Hercules was standing above him.

"You need to drink something," he said softly, and John numbly lifted the cup to his lips. He couldn't taste it, but he drank a few sips and set it beside him on the floor.

"I think you should go home," Hercules suggested gently, and John shook his head. "I can't leave Alex." His voice was hoarse.

"John, you have to change. Your clothes…" he trailed off. John knew what he was talking about. The dried blood all over his shirt, his jeans, his shoes, in his hair.

"I'm not leaving him."

Hercules nodded. "Okay," he said, in that same soft tone.

Shakily, he got to his feet. Herc followed him out of the bathroom and back into the waiting room, where Eliza was now standing. She looked up as he approached. He sat back down, and Peggy once again draped the blanket around him.

Eliza spoke, picking her words carefully. "They're stabilizing him. They got the bleeding to stop...now they're flushing his system with activated charcoal. They're pretty sure he's going to make it."

"Pretty sure," John said flatly. "Was that before or after he flatlined."

"John," Peggy said, her tone slightly chastising.

Heels clicking interrupted them. Angelica made her way towards the group, a bundle of coffees from the hospital cafeteria clutched in her hands. She handed one to each of them, trying to hide her shaking fingers. John didn't even look at his. He set it down on the floor, away from his feet. He didn't trust himself not to knock it over. He couldn't feel his body.

Angelica looked to Eliza. "What's the news?"

Eliza repeated what she had just told the rest of them. The sound of her voice faded into a buzz in the background. John fixated on a point on the wall, narrowing his vision to a chip in the white cinderblock.

He hated hospitals. Hated the smell, the doctors, the sound of beeping machines. He'd hated them ever since his mom had been diagnosed, tried to avoid them like the bubonic plague.

Hospitals were the place you went to die.

He didn't think he would be able to live if Alex died.

X

Hours passed. Peggy fell asleep on his shoulder, a line of drool glinting on her chin from her open mouth. Laf had curled up in the chair next to John, resting his head on Hercules' shoulder and closing his eyes. Angelica had pulled out her laptop and was clicking away, likely working on a paper for her final thesis. Eliza had taken to pacing the halls, pulling aside nurses and talking to them in corners, frowning when there was no update and resuming her path of worry.

Finally, after what seemed like years, a doctor came in. "Alexander Hamilton?"

John stood up abruptly, Peggy jerking awake and catching herself before she hit the floor. "Yes?"

The doctor took in the pile of half-asleep college students, all in different stages of disarray. "Come with me, please."

He led them into a different hallway and stopped in front of a door with the shade pulled over the window. "We were able to successfully stabilize Mr. Hamilton. We flushed his system of all narcotics using activated charcoal and were able to stop the bleeding before massive blood loss compromised his system. Looking forward we're expecting a week or so of recovery, given the amount of drugs he ingested and the depth of laceration. After that you'll be given the opportunity of inpatient treatment."`

John nodded along numbly, only stopping when the doctor had quit speaking. "Can I see him?"

The doctor frowned, "He won't be awake for some time, but if you want to, yes. We're requiring only three at a time, please."

Eliza lay a hand on John's arm. "You, Herc, and Laf go. We'll wait out here."

John slowly pushed open the door, stopping at the sight of Alex.

He was pale, hooked up to so many machines and tubes that he looked like a cyborg. A flash of his mother, looking the exact same way, swum in front of John's eyes, and he closed them tightly, pushing it away. He walked gingerly over to the bed, taking Alex's hand in his and bending down to gently kiss it. He sank into the chair next to the bed, eyes locked on Alex's pale face.

Hercules sucked in a breath as his eyes swept over the bandages wrapped up and down Alex's arms. He gripped Lafayette's hand tightly, his mouth twisted with anguish.

John dragged the chair closer to the bed and lay his head next to Alex's hand. Tears silently trickled from his closed eyes, sliding over the rough white sheets and soaking into the thin material.

After a few minutes, Hercules placed his hand on John's shoulder. "We have to go, John."

John lifted his head, tears still sparkling in his eyes. "I'm not leaving him."

"I know. And we'll come back. But you have to shower...get out of those clothes. Okay?"

John swallowed. He looked at Alex, so helpless and...dead. He looked dead.

"I'll give you one hour," he said finally. "Then I'm coming back, with or without you."

He stood up, taking one last look at Alex, and then followed Hercules out of the room. The Schuylers were talking quietly in the hallway, and they looked up when John came out.

"How is he?" Peggy's face was a twisted expression of worry.

John shrugged, his gaze locked on the floor. "He's alive." His voice cracked and he blinked away another wave of tears. "I'm going home...I have to shower- and, and change." He swallowed and tugged at his shirt, lifting his eyes to meet Eliza's. He took a step forward and put his hand on her shoulder. "Promise you'll stay with him, okay? Call me immediately if anything changes. I mean it Liza, if he moves, or- or anything, call me."

She nodded, her lip between her teeth. "Okay."

Peggy hugged him one last time, and then Hercules walked him out, a hand on his shoulder. Laf trailed behind them, quiet and sullen.

The ride back to their dorm was silent. Herc's truck rattled in a slightly concerning way, but the thought only occurred briefly. John watched the lights of the city flash past. It was around 12 am, and while darkness had fallen hours ago, the lights from the surrounding buildings and numerous cars lit up the night sky.

His phone buzzed. He lifted it up, squinting at the screen.

A text from an unknown number flashed, and John opened it, his fingers hovering above the keyboard.

(Unknown): Yo, Laurens. There was an ambulance and shit outside your dorm. Hamilton wasn't in class. Tf?

John: Who is this?

(Unknown): Jefferson

John: Listen, I'm dealing with some shit rn. I'll catch you up later.

Jefferson: OK, what abt Hamilton?

John: Later.

He shut his phone off and lay it facedown on the seat beside him. They were pulling into the student parking lot outside of their dorm, and Herc threw the truck in park.

John climbed out, legs shaky, and stopped short. "Oh, fuck me."

Jefferson was standing outside of the dorm, staring at his phone. He looked up, his eyes landing on John, and started walking towards him.

"Seriously, Laurens? You can't just expect me to wait. What the fuck happened?"

John pushed past him, shouldering his way to the door. "I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Hey!"

John turned. Jefferson was watching him, a worried look on his face. "What happened?"

John stared at him for a moment, an unexpected rush of anger filling his chest. "Alex tried to kill himself. And I found his ass and went to the hospital. Which is why I look like this," he gestured to the blood coating his clothes. "So are you fucking happy now? Can I leave, please?" His voice broke. Hercules and Lafayette were staying their distance, a few steps behind Jefferson.

"I'm sorry." Jefferson's voice was quiet.

"So am I," John's voice caught and he fought back the tears that welled in his eyes. He turned and pushed the door open, leaving them standing in the cold.

X

He didn't expect it to hit him so hard.

And somehow, he'd forgotten.

Forgotten about the blood spilled across the floor, smeared on the side of the sink and the bathtub, the smashed-in door and splintered door frame.

John stood in the doorway, unable to breathe. He could see Alex, laying on the floor, empty pill bottles littering the counter.

He turned and pushed past Hercules, who was standing behind him, and grabbed the trash can next to his desk, vomiting bile and mucus.

Herc swore softly and put a hand on his back. "Laf, grab some clothes- anything. Blankets, too. You're going to shower in our room, okay?" This he directed at John, who nodded and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, unable to speak.

Hercules ushered John out of the room and into his, pushing him into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and handed him a towel. "You gonna be okay?"

John just nodded again. He was shaking, hands unsteady as he took the towel from Hercules.

Herc left, and John shut the door after him. He slowly stripped off his clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and stepped into the stream of water. It was so hot it burned, and John sank down, sitting with his arms wrapped around his knees, and watched as the water ran in rusty red streaks down his body and swirled into the drain.

He stayed there until the water ran cold and the blood had been washed away, until his fingers turned wrinkly and he felt like half a person again. He untangled himself and stood up, turning off the water and stepping out of the shower. He stared at himself in the mirror, dripping water all over the floor, and finally grabbed a towel, going through the motions of drying off his hair and pulling it into a ponytail.

Herc had left a pile of clothes on the counter, and John sobbed when he realized that the sweatshirt was one of Alex's. He pressed his face into the fabric before pulling it on.

When he finally stepped back into the room Hercules handed him a bottle of water and a granola bar. "You need to eat," he said, and then stepped around him and picked the blood-coated clothes off the floor before tucking them into a garbage bag.

John never saw them again.

He sat at Laf's desk and ate mechanically, drinking the water in small sips and staring at the photos tacked above Laf's laptop.

"I don't understand," he said finally. "Alex, he...he seemed so happy. These past few weeks- I thought he was okay."

Hercules looked up from where he was pushing a small stack of clothes into a bag. He shared a glance with Lafayette, then slowly stepped over to his desk. He handed John a folded note. "This was on Alex's laptop."

John opened it, the paper crinkling.

John-

I love you. So much that it hurts to see you hurt.

And I hurt you. I hurt all of you. I can't stand by and watch that happen anymore. I love you too much.

You've been there for me no matter what. You've destroyed your own life in the process. I don't want that to happen. You deserve to be happy. You deserve someone that won't cry and scream in the bathroom and can't get out of bed.

You've made me so happy in the past few months. I love you. Which is why I don't want to hurt you anymore. I don't want to hurt anyone. I'm tired of feeling trapped. Of destroying everyone's life and my own.

I love you. You deserve to be happy.

So go be happy.

-Alex

John closed his eyes, tears splattering the paper. "How...how could he-"

"He was saying good-bye." Lafayette's voice was quiet, and John looked over. Laf met his gaze, eyes red and face pale.

"All of the things he did with us, all those times that he was happy- he was saying good-bye." Laf took a shaky breath and swallowed. "In people who commit suicide, there's a period where they're energetic and happy right before they die. It's a warning sign, because they've made a decision. It's their way of saying good-bye to the people they love."'

John stood up, setting the note on the desk. He couldn't bear to hold it any longer. "I have to go."

"Go where?" Hercules stared at him.

"To Alex. I have to go. I have to be with him." There was a frantic look in his eyes that made Herc put a hand on his chest.

"Okay. We'll go with you. I don't trust you behind the wheel right now."

John nodded frantically. Herc grabbed his keys and the backpack, closing the door behind them. Before as it shut, John caught sight of the clock sitting on Lafayette's desk.

2:01 am

He shuddered. It had been more than 8 hours since he had found Alex; since his world had crashed down with the force of a freight train smashing into a line of trees.

He followed Herc to the truck, which rumbled to life and spat exhaust in a way that made John worry for the environment. He tucked himself in the backseat, while Laf sat in the front next to Herc. He reached his hand across the console and grasped at Hercules' hand, and hurt panged in John's chest. He wanted to hold Alex's hand again; not the pale, lifeless one he had clutched in the screaming ambulance, but the one that was warm and loving, the one the made John smile during even the worst days.

He thought about that, on the way to the hospital. Alex, happy. Alex, holding his hand and walking down the street, drinking coffee and watching the cars speed by.

Laf's words echoed in his head. "He was saying good-bye."

X

At two in the morning, the emergency room was buzzing.

Two teenagers were sitting in chairs outside of the Trauma unit, each holding a bloodstained towel to their heads, occasionally looking at each other and drunkenly giggling. An older hispanic woman was holding a fussing baby, quietly trying to shush him and holding him tightly to her chest.

John's eyes swept over them and landed on the nurse's counter. Teddy Bear Nurse had been replaced by Panda Bear Nurse, who looked inherently grumpy and was dejectedly sipping a cup of coffee, clicking away at the desktop computer and looking like she regretted her job.

To his surprise, Eliza was leaning on the counter, biting her thumbnail and staring off into space. When she spotted John she dropped her hand and hurried towards him.

"Didn't you get my call?"

"What?" John pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was dead.

"Shit, no, my phone died. Why, what happened?"

She tugged at the end of her ponytail, "They transferred Alex to the ICU. C'mon, I think they'll let you see him."

John followed her through the maze of hallways, Lafayette and Hercules trailing behind them.

Eliza stopped in front of a door that was cracked open, just enough for John to see Alex's limp form drowning under a plethora of beeping machines and a sheet that barely rose enough to show that he was breathing.

"Listen, I have to start my shift upstairs. You're on the immediate family list, I talked to the doctors and pulled some strings. You can stay here, but if he does anything, hit the call button, okay?"

John tore his gaze from Alex and looked at Eliza, really looked at her. She had dark circles under her eyes and was pale, and he felt a stab of guilt over the stress he'd put her through. As a med student she needed as much rest as she could get- obviously, this wasn't helping.

He took her hand in his, "Liza, I don't know how to thank you. Really."

She shrugged and glanced at Alex over his shoulder. "Just...make sure he's okay. Call me."

John nodded, and she turned, shoulders slumped as she walked down the hallway.

John pushed the door open slowly and settled into the chair next to the bed, wrapping his fingers around Alex's, careful not to jostle the IV in his wrist. Hercules pulled a blanket from his backpack and handed it to John, who wrapped it around his shoulders and curled up, resting his head on the armrest.

He fell asleep to the steady, albeit slow, beeping of Alex's heart monitor.

X

Ngl, I cried while writing this. Putting this in John's perspective really broke down the walls and made me realize what I've put people through with my struggles. I've never been hospitalized, but I've been held by crying friends after being dragged back over a bridge railing. And other situations.

Anyway. Hope you've all had a wonderful holiday. Got a great early gift: I got into my dream college! Very excited for that. A year ago there was no light at the end of the tunnel. Now I'm going to be competing for one of the top colleges in the country for rodeo. Also, I'm almost 1 year and 2 months clean from self-harm.

I swear, it gets better. Hang in there.