He's Okay
Title: He's Okay
Pairing: George/Alex
Word Count: 608
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Notes: Was waiting until I found a prompt this related to. I guess it's got comfort. So Word Prompt, it is. Wrote this last week during Colleges & Careers.
Summary: While moving Alex in, George finds a piece of Alex's past that opens his eyes just a little bit more.
Seattle
George trifled through the cardboard boxes he'd set on the floor to his bedroom. Alex's name was scrawled messily across the sides with a little message saying 'Drop and die.' Six months after they got together and Alex was moving in with George.
"Why can't we just stay at my place?"
"Because you barely fit in it yourself."
"I fit fine."
"Then why is it that every time I walk in, all I see is sandwiched boxes?"
Alex had whined-yes, whined-about it for so long that eventually, George just began to tune him out. His boyfriend didn't want to live with the girls, didn't want to deal with them being...well, them.
George was pulling t-shirts from the box when a notebook caught his eye. He could distinctly remember putting Alex's notebooks and everything into one box. Checking to make sure he was alone, George pulled the notebook from its cardboard confines, opening it to the middle.
Hiding in your room, it's all the same
Angered screams
His little game
The bruises never fade
The constant reminder
In his hands lies your fate
One punch too hard
One kick well placed
You drop your guard
The tears fall and you can only wonder
How long will you have to live like this
Before you're six feet under
George inhaled sharply, eyes locked on the messy, smudged writing. The pen's ink ran around the crinkled paper. Dried water-tears, he corrected himself.
He could faintly remember Izzie telling him what she heard Alex say about his dad, but that was months before their beginning. Back then, it didn't really mean much to him and he'd turned a blind eye.
But now, reading this, George could perfectly see a tiny Alex, cuts and bruises on his face. It broke his heart. No one should have to live like that, but Alex had. He'd endured it for what George guessed was years and he'd gone on with his life. He didn't let it make him who he was. He wasn't a drug addict, he wasn't an alcoholic, and he wasn't an abuser. He was everything his father wasn't.
He was a great man.
"George?" Alex asked, snapping his lover from his thoughts as he leaned against the door frame. "What are you doing?"
George turned to face Alex, the notebook hidden behind his back as he smiled. "Nothing. Let's go." Quietly dropping the notebook back into the box, George cast a final glance at it before rushing after Alex and taking his hand. "Hey."
"Hi, again."
George pulled Alex to a stop, gently pushing him against the wall. He ignored Alex's confused expression as he brought his partner down for a kiss.
They stood there, locked in a tender kiss until George pulled away, and their foreheads touched softly. Neither said a word as they stood there, Alex a little lost-but enjoying it, nonetheless-and George, thinking back on the poem.
Alex had written that when he was trapped and terrified. He hadn't known how long he'd last, living like that, not knowing if he could survive. But he had. He hadn't let his father win. His dad won the battles, but Alex won the war, George thought, thankful. If Alex had let his guard down even once, his dad could have...
"Are you sure you're okay?" Alex asked softly, still pinned between George and the wall.
George glanced down at Alex, eyes taking in the soft brown hair and porcelain skin. This was Alex. He was here. He was fine. He was George's. George smiled, inhaling the scent left from his lover's shampoo. "I'm perfect."
The End
Pairing: George/Alex
Word Count: 608
Rating: PG-13
Status: Complete
Notes: Was waiting until I found a prompt this related to. I guess it's got comfort. So Word Prompt, it is. Wrote this last week during Colleges & Careers.
Summary: While moving Alex in, George finds a piece of Alex's past that opens his eyes just a little bit more.
Seattle
George trifled through the cardboard boxes he'd set on the floor to his bedroom. Alex's name was scrawled messily across the sides with a little message saying 'Drop and die.' Six months after they got together and Alex was moving in with George.
"Why can't we just stay at my place?"
"Because you barely fit in it yourself."
"I fit fine."
"Then why is it that every time I walk in, all I see is sandwiched boxes?"
Alex had whined-yes, whined-about it for so long that eventually, George just began to tune him out. His boyfriend didn't want to live with the girls, didn't want to deal with them being...well, them.
George was pulling t-shirts from the box when a notebook caught his eye. He could distinctly remember putting Alex's notebooks and everything into one box. Checking to make sure he was alone, George pulled the notebook from its cardboard confines, opening it to the middle.
Hiding in your room, it's all the same
Angered screams
His little game
The bruises never fade
The constant reminder
In his hands lies your fate
One punch too hard
One kick well placed
You drop your guard
The tears fall and you can only wonder
How long will you have to live like this
Before you're six feet under
George inhaled sharply, eyes locked on the messy, smudged writing. The pen's ink ran around the crinkled paper. Dried water-tears, he corrected himself.
He could faintly remember Izzie telling him what she heard Alex say about his dad, but that was months before their beginning. Back then, it didn't really mean much to him and he'd turned a blind eye.
But now, reading this, George could perfectly see a tiny Alex, cuts and bruises on his face. It broke his heart. No one should have to live like that, but Alex had. He'd endured it for what George guessed was years and he'd gone on with his life. He didn't let it make him who he was. He wasn't a drug addict, he wasn't an alcoholic, and he wasn't an abuser. He was everything his father wasn't.
He was a great man.
"George?" Alex asked, snapping his lover from his thoughts as he leaned against the door frame. "What are you doing?"
George turned to face Alex, the notebook hidden behind his back as he smiled. "Nothing. Let's go." Quietly dropping the notebook back into the box, George cast a final glance at it before rushing after Alex and taking his hand. "Hey."
"Hi, again."
George pulled Alex to a stop, gently pushing him against the wall. He ignored Alex's confused expression as he brought his partner down for a kiss.
They stood there, locked in a tender kiss until George pulled away, and their foreheads touched softly. Neither said a word as they stood there, Alex a little lost-but enjoying it, nonetheless-and George, thinking back on the poem.
Alex had written that when he was trapped and terrified. He hadn't known how long he'd last, living like that, not knowing if he could survive. But he had. He hadn't let his father win. His dad won the battles, but Alex won the war, George thought, thankful. If Alex had let his guard down even once, his dad could have...
"Are you sure you're okay?" Alex asked softly, still pinned between George and the wall.
George glanced down at Alex, eyes taking in the soft brown hair and porcelain skin. This was Alex. He was here. He was fine. He was George's. George smiled, inhaling the scent left from his lover's shampoo. "I'm perfect."
The End