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Alek's Prologue

  Alek hates flashing lights and yelling. He hates negative physical contact, harsh words, and a lot of other things that stem from his abusive father. Luckily, right now, he couldn't feel much of anything due to the copious amount of Xanax coursing through his veins. His brain felt fuzzy, his face felt detached, and the flashing was only slightly burning his eyes.
  "Aleksander, over here!"
  "Aleksander, where is your girlfriend!?"
  "Aleksander, comment trouvez-vous Paris!?"
  Did he take too much or did that not make any sense? Right. Paris. Different language.
  Alek turned gracefully every few seconds, giving the photographers every possible angle of his face.
  "Aleksander, will you be back for fashion week next year!?"
  "I heard that your parents bought another country club and hotel back in California, and they almost classify as billionaires!"
  "Do you plan on taking your father's place someday!?"
  "Aleksander..."
  The loud, overlapping voices suddenly sounded like wind passing through a screen.
  Alek walked along, seeming to make the yelling intensify. One of his security guards grabbed his arm and led him off of the red carpet and to a car. He let out a breath as the door closed, then leaned his head back against the seat.
  "Are you going to the after party, Mr. Aleksander?" The driver asked, turning slightly to look at him.
  "No. Back to the hotel please." Alek sighed, rubbing his face and turning to look out the window, where paparazzi had gathered.
  When Alek got back to the hotel, he immediately kicked off his shoes and pulled off his uncomfortable designer clothes. He was standing in the middle of the room in his underwear when his phone rang. He bent over and grabbed it out of his pants pocket, then held it up to his ear, "Hello?"
  "Aleksander, I know there are a couple of days left of this event, but we have to get back home for business. Your father and I are packed and we've already told Alice. Our flight leaves in a few hours." The sound of his mother's voice was enough to give him a headache, but the added fact of having to pack all of his shit and leave before he can even sit for two seconds was making the headline 'Aleksander Rochester found dead in his Paris hotel room' sound like a hit song.
  "Why can't we just stay and come home in a few days?" Alek asked, noticing a second too late that his tired, Xanned out tone sounded a bit disrespectful.
  "Because Aleksander, we've already bought four tickets and in case you've forgotten, you're still a minor. We can't just leave you in a foreign country." His mom huffed, followed by his dad's muffled voice.
  Alek swallowed hard. "Okay. I'm sorry. I'm just tired is all. I'll pack. What time are we leaving?"
  "It's alright." Her voice held its usual tight tone, but Alek still preferred it to his dad. "We have a car coming at nine. Our flight leaves at ten thirty."
  "Okay. See you then."
  Alek's mom dismissed herself and then hung up, leaving Alek to take a few grounding breaths. He picked up his discarded clothes on the floor and threw them into his suitcase. He changed into a travel appropriate outfit, then haphazardly threw the rest of his belongings into his bags.
  He unzipped the bag that held his toiletries and grabbed the orange bottle. He let two rectangular pills fall onto his hand, then paused to stare at them. It's gonna be a long flight, Alek. He let two more fall out before putting the bottle back. He walked into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
  He put two of the pills into his mouth and washed them down with faucet water. He looked around the bathroom for a second, eventually deciding to use one of the complimentary glasses to crush the two remaining pills on the counter.
  He created a neat line and then inhaled it quickly, as if it would disappear if he didn't do it fast enough. He threw his head back and sniffed harshly, wiping his nostrils with his thumb. There was a sequence of knocks on the bathroom door, making Alek go through his cleanup process a lot faster than he normally does.
  He walked up to the door, then wiped his nose again and shook his head before swinging it open.
  "Mom and dad are at the cars, they sent me to get you." Alice said, then eyed him intently. "You okay?"
  "I just had a dinner with a bunch of uptight assholes, walked a runway and a red carpet, then right as I was about to finally fucking relax, I had to pack all of my shit. Now I have to get on a plane for eleven fucking hours and probably have an insufferable lunch with our parents and some fucking business execs on little to no sleep as soon as we get back." Alek exhaled sharply, rubbing his face. "Basically, I'm tired."
  Alice smiled up at him sadly. "I'm sorry. I tried to get them to let us stay, but mom is adamant on not being perceived as a terrible mother in the media and-"
  "Image always comes first." Alek sighed.