i'm not leaving

1.9 take my hand and..

a/n: sorry for the late upload. school has been biting me lately but glad I got it up. gonna be a 2 parter, only felt right to. i've been very relaxed with tw throughout the story & I'm truly sorry if any of the parts have unduly affected anyone. you are loved!

TW: familial issues, discussions of mental health

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The door of their room slightly breaks the darkening. Someone was there. It was slow the way the colour returned to the room. It was only 3, but the light was already knocked out of him. In his head, he layed there. Somewhere quiet he thought. Somewhere still. His eyes were open, but he only captured a few moments including this one

'Hi dear' Henry had appeared. After a lifetime it felt, he emerged with sun rays penetrating every inch of his body. He looked almost angelic, nor was he far from it. He was perfect, and for all that Alex had, he wouldn't be the one to break him.

'Hi darling' Alex responds, legs floating from the edge of their bed, with a slight smile. Subtle, to not be breaking their promise but enough to not break Alex

'How was talking with ummm-' He continues with a sarcastic expression 'ummmm?'

Henry laughed, closing the door behind him.
'Ate me alive' He nibbles his cheek, then readjusts his stance.

Alex tightens

He quietly adds, 'Kidding'

Alex blinks his eyes and nods.

Henry moves closer to him, to play with one of his curls. In time, he lowers to catch his eyes.

Frantic. Bouncing of every surface of the room, ducts welling for the downpour. Alex sat there, lifeless, swaying at the slight tugs and petting.

He'd been here before. A lot.

/

Although he doesn't recall how it all went down, the feeling of their house months before the divorce kept with age for a while. It grew like mould in his 14 yo mind, affecting everything and anything good. He remembers vividly a time when his dad would come home late at night. Despite having been forced into the confines of his room long before, he managed to sneak back downstairs to grab a bottle of ice water, in hope it'd keep him up for his all night us gov revision sesh. He knew his mum, then Congresswoman Clairemont, would literally destroy him for studying too late but she didn't know why he did it — no one did.

By the time he'd felt out the fridge, dispensed the ice & secured his bottle, he heard a rustling at the door. Dad. He could have ran up the stairs and hoped neither of his bat-ear possessing parents heard or stayed in the kitchen beside the plate of dinner his mum, more of than not, left for on the stove. He looked back at the hob, confused. There was nothing. This was notably odd because 1. His mum never forget anything. Ever. 2. They had just eaten more pizza known to man and had way too much for day afters. Anyways, after weighing up the both unfavourable outcomes, he compromised and bolted empty handed to their living room, adjacent to the kitchen.

Oscar Diaz had entered, firmly shutting the door. He clattered his shoes haphazardly on their door mat and grunted to the kitchen. It was silent for a minute, with a dark figure bouncing of the tiles to the living rooms ceiling. Alex, waiting it out, looked up from hiding on the nape of the couch to the floating figure. It started slow, only the head moving side to side. Then it slipped out of viewing, probably crouching. It stayed there for a while, with only slams of drawers to narrate the search. Loud enough to awaken his mum.