Work Text:
Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz is strong.
He’s strong when he’s fourteen and comes back home from summer camp to find that his parents are getting a divorce and that his father is fucking gone, and he just accepts it. There are no tears in his eyes. He takes the information, stores it somewhere in his brain, and that's it.
He doesn’t even mind that Oscar didn’t take the time to tell him he was leaving. Not at all.
Alex is strong, Alex is fine and he moves on.
He’s strong when he’s fifteen and they have separated summer holidays because his parents can’t be in the same place without a screaming match.
He doesn’t care.
He’s fine.
Alex is strong when he’s seventeen and breaks into his mother’s cabinet for the first time to get booze. He’s strong when he doesn’t let the fact that he made out with Liam for an hour afterwards faze him. It doesn’t mean anything. Bros helping bros. He’s fine.
He’s strong when he somehow continues to drink too much without anybody noticing.
He's strong when Liam and he fall apart without Alex understanding why.
Alex is strong, Alex is fine. He keeps drinking, mainly to stop the thoughts swirling in his head, and somehow still gets to deliver a Valedictorian speech.
He’s fine. He’s strong.
He’s strong when his mother wins the presidency and Alex just goes with it. He has a plan. Congress by thirty and he’s suddenly the First Son, he lives in the White House, and gets to meet people who rule countries . He’s charming, can win a crowd with a smile. He knows how to play, how to flirt, and how to drive Zahra mad. He uses this to build a plateforme, to get experience.
He’s strong when he and Henry fall into a fucking cake and he has to do damage control.
He’s strong when Henry kisses him and then ghosts him a first time.
He does what he does best. He makes a list. He figures it out and gets Henry in the Red Room alone to get what he wants.
What he wants is to make out with Henry.
So he does.
He does way more than make out with Henry.
He’s strong when he takes Henry to Texas and Henry ghosts him again .
He makes yet another list. He flies to London in the middle of the night and gets Henry back.
He’s fine. They’re fine.
He’s strong when their emails get fucking leaked and the whole world gets to read their most intimate thoughts and words. He's not ashamed of what he and Henry share. He fucking loves him and he's proud of their relationship. So it's fine. He's not worried.
He’s strong when he faces the Queen of England to be with Henry.
He’s strong when his mother wins the presidency again thanks to his plan for Texas, and he walks out with her, knowing that so many people in the assembly are speculating about what goes on in his bedroom.
Ellen Claremont won and they can suck it. He's fine.
Point is.
Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz is strong.
And he’s fine . Thank you very much.
The thing is.
He wakes up fine even though he’s late. Henry isn’t here. He’s already at the shelter, Alex remembers something about Pez being somewhere – South Africa, maybe, so Henry is in charge. That's fine. Alex can deal with Henry's side of the bed being cold. It's fine. Henry's fine. He's safe and sound at the shelter. They're okay.
He gets out of bed and runs to the kitchen. In his haste, he breaks his favorite mug, the coffee spills everywhere in the kitchen, and he has to pick between cleaning or being on time.
It’s fine. He’s fine. He'll clean up later, David is with Henry so there is no risk of him cutting his paws, and he'll get the mug replaced. No big deal.
He runs back to their bedroom and puts on clothes as quickly as he can.
He gets out of the house and joins Cash who’s waiting for him.
“You okay, kid?” Cash asks as he leads him to the car.
“I’m fine.”
He’s strong. He can do this. It’s a bad start to the day but it’s fine.
He’s strong.
He's fine when his teacher wants to talk to him after his first class and he doesn’t have time to get lunch, and he just powers through it.
He’s strong and he's fine when he gets to his afternoon lecture and his teacher, an old guy who clearly became a teacher to torture students and seems to hate Alex just because – because he believes strongly that America shouldn’t let foreign countries dictate its politics and Alex happens to be in a loving relationship with the fourth in line to the British Crown. Alex knows that the man has read the email. He always knows. It’s something in people’s eyes, the way they stare and search for something. What, Alex doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. He can take it. He’s fine. The thing is, the guy just gives him his paper with a smirk. F . Alex fucking got a F on his paper.
He’s strong, he’ll work harder and will make it up. He’s fine.
He takes the paper and leaves without making a scene. He's the First Son and he refuses to be one of those kids who uses the mommy card to get a better grade even though he knows that he deserved one.
He’s strong.
He’s fine.
He goes home, cleans up the kitchen, he doesn’t even swear when he cuts himself with the ceramic. It’s fine. It’s just a tiny bit of blood on his finger. He’s strong. He’ll live.
He cleans it up, puts a bandage on, and goes back to his room to change.
He puts on his favorite sweater. Henry’s sweater. It’s blue, like his eyes. It’s soft, like his hair. It’s comfortable, like the hugs he gives. It's home.
He tries to get out of the room, he needs food, and water if he wants to be able to focus, when his sleeve gets caught in the door handle.
By the time he gets himself unstuck, he notices a hole in the sleeve.
Alex is strong.
Alex is fine.
Alex can’t breathe.
He destroyed Henry’s sweater. He runs a finger over it, closes his eyes, breathes, opens his eyes again, hoping that the hole will magically disappear.
It does not.
It’s still there.
Alex can’t breathe.
He can’t see anymore, tears are suddenly blurring his vision, pouring down his face.
He sniffles, tries to calm down.
It’s fine, isn’t it? It’s fine . It’s just a sweater.
It’s his favorite sweater.
It’s Henry’s.
Alex falls down on his knees, a weight is pressing down his chest, and he can’t .
He’s breaking down and he knows it.
He can’t take it anymore.
He sits down, his back against their bed frame, his knees pulled against his chest, he lets his head fall on his knees, and lets himself cry.
He doesn’t know how long he stays like this. It could be minutes. It could be hours.
What he does know is that by the time Henry comes back home and calls his name, Alex’s head is pounding, his hands are shaking, and he’s still crying, his breathing completely ragged.
“Alex? Love?”
There is so much worry in his boyfriend’s voice.
He wants to say that it’s fine.
He’s fine.
Except he’s not.
He didn’t have coffee. He didn’t have food. He has barely stopped to get water. There is a bandage on his finger. There is a hole in his sweater that matches his emotional mindset.
He’s not okay.
He’s tired.
He’s hurt.
“I made a hole in your sweater,” Alex whispers through tears.
He raises his hand, shows the hole to Henry.
“Is that why you’re upset, love?” Henry asks softly.
There is no anger in his voice. He walks to Alex slowly, as if he were approaching a wounded animal, and crouches down.
Alex nods. It’s stupid. He knows it is.
It’s just a sweater.
It’s not just a sweater. It’s so much more. It's everything that Alex has been bottling up for years.
Henry sits next to him and pulls him into his arms.
And Alex?
Alex breaks completely.
He’s sobbing against Henry’s neck. He’s clawing at his shirt, desperately trying to ground himself. Henry holds him through it, murmuring comforting words against the top of his head, where he presses soft kisses.
“I’m not strong,” Alex mutters.
“What are you talking about?”
“I can’t take it anymore, I’m tired of being strong.”
“Oh, love. Crying doesn’t mean you’re not strong,” Henry says. “You’re just as strong and brave as usual.”
Alex isn’t sure he believes that. He feels weak . He feels like his body and mind are betraying him.
Years of pent up feelings are finally breaking free from him and he just can’t deal with it.
It’s too much.
A new wave of sobs goes through him and the only thing helping him is Henry, solid and strong under him. Holding him together.
Loving him.
Always loving him.
“Don’t leave ,” Alex cries.
“I won’t,” Henry promises.
That’s something else to unpack. A sudden fear.
Look, Alex knows, he knows that he has issues. He thinks too fast, his thoughts are chaotic, erratic, going all over the place. He tends to lose himself in whatever catches his attention. When he’s focused, he can’t stop . His mind doesn’t leave him alone, it's never silent. He talks too much. He acts too quickly. He’s reckless sometimes. He's too much .
He has abandonment issues.
Fucking great.
It's fine.
"Alex, your hands are shaking," Henry says. "When was the last time you ate?"
"Last night," Alex mumbles.
"Okay. We're getting you food. Is that a bandage on your finger?"
"Cut myself with the mug I broke this morning."
Henry, sweet, wonderful Henry, takes his hand and kisses the bandage. It's so stupid but it works. Alex smiles through his tears. The weight he feels in his chest doesn't feel unbearable anymore. It's a tiny bit easier to breathe.
"Here's our plan – I'm going to order from that Thai place you love so much, we're going down to the living room together, and we'll cuddle on the couch with David while we wait, okay?"
"Where is David?"
"In the garden. I'm sure he'll be happy to provide cuddles. After we eat, we'll go to bed."
"I need to study –"
"No studying tonight," Henry says. "I mean it. Your grades are fine –"
"I got an F today," Alex mutters. "I need to study."
"You need to rest ," Henry argues. "You had a rough day, I can tell. You deserve food, hugs, and some rest."
Alex can't even argue with him because Henry is right. One night of rest won't cause the end of the World. After the day he's had, the idea of just letting his boyfriend cuddle him seems like heaven. So he nods. He gives in.
He lets Henry order food, lets him lead him to the couch. David runs to him as soon as he sees him. The dog jumps on him, whines and checks him over, licks his face, getting rid of what's left of his tears.
"I'm okay," he whispers as he pets his head.
David settles against him, warm against his stomach. Henry pulls him to his body and holds him. He puts Bake Off in the background, just because he knows Alex hates the silence.
"Henry?"
"Yes, love?"
"I think I want to go to therapy," Alex says. "I think I haven't been okay for a while and I just powered through but I can't anymore. I have all these feelings and these fears , and I don't know what to do with them."
Henry kisses his temple softly.
"We'll find you a therapist then," he says, like it's easy.
"What if I don't like it?"
"You stop going. There is no pressure, love. If you think you need it, you go. Try it. If it works, then perfect. If it doesn't, you stop and at least you tried."
Alex turns his head and kisses his neck before nuzzling it. His fingers are lost in David's fur and he's feeling better, he feels warmer and loved.
"Thank you for making everything better."
"I'll always try to," Henry says. "I love you."
"I love you too. So fucking much."
He still has a long way to go. He has a lot to figure out. A lot to work on. He's not alone though. He has Henry and David who are home. He has Nora, June, and Pez. He has Bea. He has his mother and Leo. His dad and Rafael. He has Liam and Spencer. So many people who love him and would be willing to help.
The answers won't be easy.
There will be bad days. He knows that. He has seen Henry go through this. He knows that he needs to be patient.
He's tearing down a wall he built around himself when he was young.
Now, he needs to heal.
For now, all he can do is accept his food, take it so he doesn't pass out, and let Henry wrap him up in a blanket. He feels like a kid in a way, it reminds him of being sick, and his parents doing this for him.
Yet it's different. It's Henry . Henry, who doesn't care that Alex ruined his sweater. Henry, who loves him even when he's too loud, too passionate. Henry, who is willing to listen to him talk for hours about a subject he doesn't even care about just because it's important to Alex. Henry, who seems to know exactly what Alex needs.
"You're the strongest person I know," Henry whispers in the dark of their bedroom.
"I'm not," Alex mumbles.
"You are," Henry says and Alex hears his smile. "Do you think I'm weak?"
"Of course not," Alex is quick to answer. " You are the strongest person I know."
"Well," Henry drawls. " You make me strong everyday. You make me want to fight. You make me want to do what's right. You make everything better too, love. One bad day does not take that away from you."
Alex closes his eyes.
Henry does have a point.
Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz is strong.
He's fine.
At least, he will be fine, eventually.