Non-stop •Mute Alex•

Split POV

A/N: Darn I was too late for 666 reads

Co-written by OwlWithAHat

TW: gay slurs

*Backstory*
"You're what?" My dad asked angrily.

"I like boys. I always have. And I didn't know how to tell you."

My dad looked at me, his eyes filled with rage. He was livid. "I always knew deep down you were a faggot." He spat, "I guess I just tried to put it at the back of my head and assume you didn't like girls because you hadn't gone through puberty yet."

He started shaking, "But this is unacceptable! You are laughing in the face of God! Spitting on him!" My father became really quiet. "He made you in his eyes, and he knows what's best for you, maybe you oughta listen!" With that, he slapped my cheek and left the room. I walked down the hall to my mother and collapsed into her arms, crying uncontrollably.

John's P.O.V
As Alexander spoke, his words seemed to cluster together in nervousness. Almost as if he thought he had done something wrong. All of a sudden he just stopped talking. His eyes looked very distant, as if his mind was elsewhere. "Alexander?" Hercules tried, but he only flinched before his eyes glazed over. Herc started panicking, he'd never dealt with someone like this.

I put a hand on his shoulder, "Alexander, we were joking. Please calm down." Nothing could shake him. He just sat there with a look of guilt in his eye. As he scratched his arm, a sudden yelp escaped his mouth, and we were not sure what to do. We asked all these questions.

He was able to calm us down but I still felt bad for the kid. We kept talking to ease his mind of things that could possibly trigger anything else.

I told him about school and how his friends plus Mr. Washington were worried about him. Alexander seemed to have a good time talking to us, but he still seemed to be distracted. It wasn't in the way he talked, he spoke clearly and perfectly. His eyes moved around constantly, trying to find something to focus on. I could tell he was frantic and possibly impatient. I know I wouldn't want to be in a hospital for so long. Taking one last look at his lonely eyes, I walked out and made my way home.

When I got home I texted him to make sure he was alright

Me: you gonna be okay?

Hamilham: I'll be fine..

I decided to leave it at that, if he wanted to tell me something he'd tell me. Homework was a downpour, like usual. History and English, this sucks. That stupid short story Mr. Seabury wants us to write is due Tuesday and there's no guidelines. Fiction or non fiction. What even is this?

I picked up my pen and started writing. Let's figure this out. I have three major interests, none of which are worth writing about. Turtles are amazing but who wants to read about that? Friends? No. I'll ask Alexander.

Me: do you have Seabury?

Hamilham: yeah

Me: what's your short story about?

Hamilham: biographies

Me: isn't that where you write about your experiences

Hamilham: that's an autobiography, a biography is when someone writes about your life

Hamilham: now that I think about it help me come up with a title

Me: uhm why would I do that

Hamilham: *le gasp*

Hamilham: how could you John
H

amilham: D:

I chuckle at the texts sent back and forth with us. He eventually said they the doctor told him he could be out by tomorrow, that the burns have almost completely healed besides the ones he tampered with.

Once we were done talking I turned my head to my laptop at the unfinished prompt for the English class. What to write about..

Alexander's P.O.V
Thanks John, now I have that to worry me instead of my personal issues, I thought. What would you name something like that? It's not a thing you usually write about.

I reached into the pocket of my jacket to find my ear buds. Plugging them into my phone shuts off all outside relationships, I'm in my own melodic world. Music helps me think, it's my grounding point of focus. Plugging in helps me when studying for tests or when I have extreme anxiety. I usually listen to calming classical music since there's usually not a big variation in intensity throughout the music. Some of my all time personal favorite composers are Johann Sebastian Bach, George Fredric Handel, and of course Ludwig Van Beethoven. Listening to the music, I started to think.

The story of you?

Your life in his eyes?

Just plain Autobiographies??

Then it hit me. I wrote it down on my hand and stared at the marvelous title. It has a nice ring to it. Perfect for such an amazing paper. I told John I had finished and started brainstorming for his paper with him.

Me: have you already thought of turtles?
Johnny Boy: yeh, I'm not creative enough to write a story so it could just be an informational paper.
Me: well that's no fun ;^;
Johnny Boy: I just thought of the best thing
Johnny Boy: I could write a song
Johnny Boy: help me write it?
Me: hell yeah what are your ideas?
Johnny Boy: uhm...
Me: none?
Johnny Boy: yep...
Me: you're irritating
Read at 3:42

Well I don't need you either, I thought bitterly. If he wants to write it on his own he's gonna write it on his own. I'll write some ideas for him.

He talked about black lives matter right? He talked about them as if they were glorious riots. But people have died in them.

Suddenly it clicked.
I may not live to see our glory
But I will gladly join the fight
And when our children tell our story
They'll tell the story of tonight...

___________________________

*Alternate Ending*

"I like boys..."

From across the house, "You what!?"

"I like boys." I said a little louder.

From across the state, "WHAT!?"

"I like boys!" I yelled.

From across the country, walking on an airplane, "YOU WhAt?!?"

*Proceeds to fly back to England*