Red, White & Royal Blue One Shots// MOSTLY ANGST

9: Henry+Alex⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️⚠️

•Title: "A typical American Childhood"

•Requester:

•Warnings: talk of school shooting, talk of gun violence, etc.

•Inspiration: I have wanted to write about Alex's anxiety in the hospital storage closet.

•Type: angst

A/N: Please, please, please do not read this if the talk of shootings triggers you. I am not taking light of this VERY important issue in our country. I am not merely using it as a writing prompt. This is an issue very important to me. In fact, a lot of this might come of very opinionated. Also, if you don't believe that America needs some kind of gun reform, get tf out of here. I will not even entertain your stupidity. Anyways, for everyone else out there, I hope you enjoy reading this mess of angst.

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Alexander Gabriel Claremont-Diaz doesn't have many secrets from the public. Everyone knows he's bisexual. Everyone knows he's in a relationship with His Royal Highness Prince Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor. He plans to be a lawyer, attending law school at NYU. This much is known to the public. Not very many people know that he wears contacts. His glasses are only seen on his face by a select few people in the first son's life.

There is one important thing that the public doesn't know about Alex, though. This is his irreparable trauma. He has trauma from numerous events in his life. His parent's divorce definitely left a mark on Alex's mind. Him and Henry's emails getting leaked and the reactions of the world that followed left a larger wound.

There's one trauma that only Ellen, June, Nora, Oscar, Leo, Zahra, and Cash are aware of. Alex doesn't talk about it, really. It's the trauma that happened on the day that everything changed for the Claremont-Diaz family.

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Six years ago. 17 years old Alex.

Alex is sitting in his class, paying close attention as he takes notes. His handwriting is slow and careful. It's in small cursive, his hand gliding over the paper smoothly as he writes. His pen lets out a solid stream of ink from the tip as the letters form in loops and swirls. Alex loves writing with a pen. He finds it's much neater than a pencil. His eyes are focused on the paper while his ears are focused on the voice of his teacher.

Startling Alex so much that his pen falls from his hand, a loud pop sound is heard. He jerks his head up as more come, the other people in the classroom's faces growing pale. They move quick. The teacher rushes to lock the door while three students lower the blinds of the windows. One student turns off the lights while everyone else makes their way to the corner of the room. Twenty-one students sit huddled together, their knees pulled to their chests, hands clasped over their bent heads. The teacher is at the edge of the group, closest to the door.

Some students are silently crying, others are shaking as they type quickly on their phones. Alex is just sitting there. His phone is at his desk, so he just holds his head between his knees as he tries to keep his breathing in control. More pop sounds come, closer than before. They hear one, maybe two, students scream from down the hall. From a sliver under the blinds, Alex can see police cars, ambulances, and other emergency vehicles lining up in front of the school. Their lights are on but there is no sound. Alex can't be sure if he just can't hear it or if the sirens are actually turned off. His head returns to between his knees as he silently prays for this day to be over. He just wants to wake up from this nightmare.

That night, the atmosphere in his home was different. It was heavy. Oscar had come rushing home to Texas the second he learned-a frantic member of his staff came running into his meeting. June, who was away at college, called Alex the second she knew she could. Ellen ran to Alex when she saw him leave the building, ignoring the police trying to stop her. Leo stayed back, letting his wife and step son have the moment they needed. Dinner was silent that night. Oscar, Leo, and Ellen were too afraid of saying the wrong thing. It wasn't until after dinner, when Ellen came into Alex's room, that he let himself feel. It was the hardest, loudest, and longest Alex had cried in his life. He doesn't even know what he was feeling. Anger at the shooter. Anger at the country's current leaders. Grief for the students and staff that weren't able to walk out. Loss. He can't pinpoint his feelings. It was in this moment, holding her traumatized child in her arms, that Ellen decided that her presidential campaign will focus on the safety-mental and physical-of all the citizens.