Trust [Lams AU]

5

Trigger warning: drug mention, violence mention, at one point Alex mentions how his mother's death made him lose interest in food

Sorry for the late update I've been feeling really off since school started and I had to rewrite this like 5 times cuz I just hated how it was coming out. I hope the long chapter makes up for it (^♡^)

Alex and John were sitting on the swing set of  an abandoned playground, sitting in silence as they watched the clouds float lazily across the pale blue sky. 

Alex was enjoying the serenity, a luxury he'd rarely been permitted to experience. In Nevis, he had always been surrounded by noise and chaos. To him, a moment of peace and quiet was as rare and precious as a diamond. 

"This is my favorite place." John said, breaking the silence.  "It's always so quiet and peaceful. If I'm having a bad day, I can just come here and let the entire world fall away and just enjoy the peace. It's like taking a break from reality for a few moments." 

"That's deep." Alex replied, his eyes still fixed on the sky. 

"Yeah. That's the power of the Devil's Lettuce." 

"'Devil's Lettuce?'" Alex raised an eyebrow. 

"That's what I call weed when adults are around so I can't get in trouble for talking about drugs."

"I should open a restaurant that serves nothing but really bad salad and name it 'The Devil's Lettuce.'"

"That's the most high as fuck thing I've ever heard a high as fuck person say." 

The two laughed then fell back into a comfortable silence, the only noise the squeak of the swing set chains. 

After a few moments, a soft buzzing noise broke the silence. John pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, his jaw tightening as he examined the screen. His lazy grin vanished, replaced by a stern, cold expression that made him appear ten years older. 

"I have to go home now." John said, his voice tinged with bitterness. It was a familiar kind of bitterness, a kind that had often tainted his own words. "I'd rather not, but that's just how it's gonna be until I finally turn eighteen."

Before Alex could think too much about what he had just said, John tapped the screen a few more times and handed the phone to Alex. 

"Before I go, can I have your number?"

Alex froze. He didn't have a number. He didn't have a phone. He'd never had a phone. On Nevis, the orphanage had granted the children computer address, but it was very limited. All of the fun websites had been blocked, so Alex had spent most of his time on Google Docs writing stories. 

Perhaps the Washingtons might give him a phone. But Alex didn't want them too. He'd learned the hard way that gifts always came with a price. Perhaps they'd give him a phone then take it away, saying that he was undeserving of it and that thinking someone like him was deserving of anything had been a lapse of judgement on their part. Perhaps they'd give him a phone and use it against him, beating him and starving him and locking him up when he misbehaved, saying things like "I bought you a phone and this is how you repay me, you spoiled ungrateful brat."

That was how it always went. Nothing came without a price, and nothing good ever stayed around for long. Every time something good happened, it was only a matter of time before it was ripped away from him.