X-Men Oneshots

Song Series (Alex Summers)

*Based on the song: 28 by Zach Bryan*

The soft hum of the train filled the air as Alex leaned against the window, his thoughts wandering. He had never been to Boston before, but there was something about this trip that felt right. You had insisted on it, wanting to show him where your dad had lived, where your heart had stayed long after you moved away. Alex wasn't one for sentimental journeys, but with you, it felt different—he wanted to know everything about the places that had shaped you.

**"You took a train to the south side of Boston

You showed me where your old man stayed
Took twenty-eight years of blood I was lost in
To feel loved on my own birthday"**

For Alex, birthdays had always been just another day. But this one felt different. Maybe it was the city or the fact that he was here with you. You had a way of making everything seem meaningful, of making him feel like he wasn't just stuck between the past and some uncertain future. For so long, Alex had felt like he was always in between something—his responsibilities and the person he wanted to be. But tonight, sitting across from you in that tiny Brooklyn bar, he didn't feel lost. For the first time in years, he felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.

He saw the way your eyes shimmered in the dim light, catching the faint outline of tears you tried to hide. You were trying to be strong, like always, but Alex saw through it. He always did.

**"And I always felt like I's in between somethin'

Like home and somewhere far away
But tonight on the west side in a bar out in Brooklyn
I saw tears outline your face"**

"How lucky are we?" Alex murmured, his voice barely louder than a whisper. You looked up at him, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand, offering him a small, shaky smile.

"It's been a hell of a week," you said, a trace of laughter breaking through your sadness. Alex couldn't help but smile too, the weight of the week starting to lift now that you were both here, together.

**"How lucky are we?

It's been a hell of a week, but you're all grown now
There's smoke seepin' out of your bloody teeth
But you're home somehow"**

Later that night, Alex found himself upstairs in the tiny apartment you'd rented for the weekend. His old guitar rested on his lap, the one he'd been given when he was barely fourteen. The strings felt familiar under his fingertips, even if he hadn't played in years. He glanced out the window, down at the crowded streets of the city. It was strange—he used to love the chaos of it all, but tonight, he felt out of place, like the city had moved on without him.

"When did the world get so crowded?" he muttered, half to himself.

**"And I'll be upstairs with the guitar I's given

When I was barely fourteen
When did McGlinchey's get so crowded
And why are the crowds so damn green?"**

You were downstairs, probably mingling with the locals, your laugh occasionally drifting up through the open window. Alex smiled to himself. It had taken him twenty-eight years to feel this way—content, settled, loved. For so long, he had been lost, drifting through life without any real sense of direction. But with you, everything felt different. You grounded him in a way he hadn't known he needed.

**"I lost my mind on the streets of the city

And maybe I lost all hope too
Took twenty-eight years of blood pumpin' through me
To get to this evening with you"**

You came up after a while, finding Alex lost in thought, strumming absent chords on his guitar. Sitting beside him, you leaned your head on his shoulder. Neither of you spoke for a long time, letting the quiet of the night settle around you.

"How lucky are we?" Alex whispered again, the words like a mantra now, something he couldn't stop saying. He felt the same question echoing through him, reverberating in the silence of the room.

**"How lucky are we?

It's been a hell of a week, but we're all grown now
There's smoke seepin' out of the bar down the street
But we're home somehow"**

The city felt distant, the noise and chaos fading into the background as the two of you sat there, side by side, in a small pocket of peace. It didn't matter what the rest of the world was doing—tonight, you were home. And that was enough.

**"How lucky are we?

It's been a hell of a week and we're all grown now
There's smoke seepin' out of the bar down the street
But we're home somehow"**

The next day, you took him to your old neighborhood, the place where you had grown up. Alex listened as you shared stories about your dad, pointing out the landmarks of your childhood. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy for the people who had known you back then, who had gotten to see the pieces of your life before he had.

But as the day went on, he realized something important. It had taken him twenty-eight years to find you, but it had been worth every second. For the first time, Alex felt like he belonged somewhere, not just to a place, but to you.

**"You took a train to the south side of Boston

You showed me where your whole heart stayed
Took twenty-eight years of blood pumpin' through me
To feel loved on my own birthday"**