The Unspoken Introduction of Hercules Mulligan

Untitled Part 14

Herc's POV:

It was the day after Thanksgiving. Rain spattered the windows, and gray light filtered through the rooms. The girls were at our aunt's house across town. I had opted to stay here and get homework done. The store was closed up, and Dad was in his office. I had made a sandwich comprised of leftovers and was now slogging through an essay about the battle of Yorktown.

Everything was quiet, the air was thick and still.

The doorbell rang.

I got to my feet, yawning, and trundled to the door. It was probably Laf, or maybe--maybe Angie. My close friends all had the access code to my apartment building--probably a stupid idea, but unavoidable after four years of spending time together nearly every day.

I opened the door.

It was Alex.

The words of greeting I had formed died on the tip of my tongue when I saw his face. It was red, his eyes were puffy and tears still slid from them. His cocky grin was nowhere to be seen. "Alex?"

"Can I come in?" His voice was nearly unrecognizably hoarse.

"Yeah--yeah, of course. Here..." I grabbed his arm and pulled him across the threshold, closing the door behind him. There was a ball of fear building in my stomach, as I thought of what could possibly make Alex react in such a way. But I had to ask. "What's wrong?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of today's newspaper. He thrust it into my hands. I smoothed it out and read the heading. Seventeen-year old boy shot to death at New Jersey pride rally.

John's school picture was printed beneath.

My breath caught horribly in my throat as I stared, uncomprehending. Alex was slumped on my couch now, crumpled essay drafts fluttering to the floor. He was sobbing, and I heard it as if I was very far away.

I still hadn't taken a breath, and the part of my brain that wasn't completely frozen was just confused.

What?

The newspaper had gotten it wrong.

Wait, what?

My chest ached from lack of breath, but I couldn't take my eyes off the tiny, grainy, black and white photo of my best friend.

Why is Alex crying again?

I was missing something, I had to be. The idea that John was dead--no, that John had been killed-- just didn't compute. It wasn't true. It wasn't.

What?

Several thousand years later, I took a breath. It burned and rattled my lungs. Alex was still crying, his head in his hands. The noises he made were like something I'd only heard once before: from Dad, after Mom died, late at night when he thought I couldn't hear. They prickled the hair on the back of my neck, and chilled me down to my fingertips.

Somehow, I walked over to the couch, and took a seat beside Alex. I put a heavy hand on his heaving back, and tried to think of something to say. He leaned into me, relying on me in a way he never had before, as sobs racked his thin body.

I opened my dry mouth and managed a word. "Alex?"

He gasped and pulled his head up, pushing wet hair out of his face. "He asked me to go with him."

"I--what?"

"To the Pride event. He thought we could go together."

"Oh." I hadn't known this.

"And I said--oh god..." he clapped a hand over his mouth and collapsed into me again, sobbing.

"Alex, Alex, breathe, tell me--"

"I told him I couldn't break up with Eliza. I told him I wouldn't go, because of Eliza. If I had just-- Herc, if I had just been there--"

"Oh, Alex, no, it wasn't, you didn't--" I tried, but he was inconsolable. I sat with him, let him cry, a gray haze seeping into my mind, making it very hard to think. I understood why he was sad, I knew what had happened, but it was not affecting me. I could not feel it yet.

Eventually I got up and went to the phone. "I'm calling Eliza."

Alex cried out. "No! No. Please. Don't. Angelica. I need Angelica."

So I called Angie, who wouldn't let me off the phone until I explained what was going on, but I couldn't seem to get the words out, so in the end I just told her that Alex needed her, then hung up. I then called Laf, who asked no questions, just said he was already heading to the subway. I put the phone down, but missed it's holder, and it clattered to the floor. I didn't bother to pick it up. I staggered back to the couch, let Alex collapse back on me, and waited, the deep deep gray-ness swirling through my head.

A/N: I haven't posted in so long! I'm so so sorry. I promise I have everything thought out, it's just a matter of getting it written down. Almost 3K views?! Thanks for all your support 💕