The bakery Alex worked in was warm compared to the autumn chill outside. He hummed with his hands caked in flour. It was a late shift, nearing nine when everyone was already gone and the owner asked him to close up. The action wasn't unusual. Alex offered to anyways. Scrubbing off the rest of the flour, he sighed and watched the thick, wet powder flow down the drain.
Alex let his hair fall down to his shoulders as he took out his hair tie and unwrapped his apron with his cleaned hands. He folded the apron and put it in its usual place under the counter before turning off the lights. On Alex's way out, he locked the glass door and pulled down the metal grate before walking home. The night was quiet, usual for Virginia except the cicadas chirping. He took a deep breathe and stuffed his hands in his dark green bomber jacket, a gift from John.
There was a grunt heard beside him and Alex jumped in fear. He wrapped his hand around his phone, holding it out like a weapon. Under the street lamp, Alex could vaguely make out a figure of a man much taller than him. He was holding his side and had a deep bruise on his face. Alex felt sympathetic and put away his phone, helping him stand up better.
"Oh, are you okay?" Alex asked, the man wincing. "That's an idiotic question. Obviously you aren't okay since you're- Oh, my God you're bleeding!"
"Don't call the cops." He instructed, but more so pleaded. "I-I just need to sit down."
"Of course." He nodded, looking down the block to the bakery. "I work at the bakery down the way. There's a first aid kit there."
"Thanks." He practically had to drag him back to the bakery, struggling to both hold him up and unlock the door, but he managed. Sitting him down at one of the booths, he went back to the kitchen and rummaged through the drawers. He sighed in relief at the sight of the medium sized plastic box in his hands and went to the man. Smiling, he sat on his knees and pulled out cleaning alcohol.
"This'll sting a bit." He warned, putting it against the side of his head. He watched the hurt man wince, feeling awful for what had happened to him. "If you don't mind me asking, what happened?"
"I-er, I got mugged." Alex frowned, putting the used toilette on the table over the plastic wrap before pulling out a large bandage. Alex scrunched up his face.
"I can't find where the bleeding came from." He remarked quietly. He felt a sharp pain to his head before he fell.
🌻
Thomas paced around the room, taking an occasional glance towards Alex on his bed. In theory, he knew that he had hit the correct place hard enough to knock him out but not severely hurt him, but he still felt bad about it. The sun was filtering through the window blinds, giving a soft yellow haze over Alex's face. Thomas stopped, sitting in the small semi-circle that Alex made when he curled into himself in his sleep. He lightly brushed the loose curls out of his face. His delicate face scrunched up, shifting as he woke up.
"W-Where am I?" He asked, voice soft and warm like how Thomas would imagine warm molasses would sound like if it had a voice.
"What do you remember?" Thomas inquired, hoping he forgot the whole 'hitting-him-in-the-back-of-his-head' thing.
"Well I was locking up and.... Wait, who are you?" He sat up, moving away slightly from Thomas.
"Thomas Jefferson. I found you laying out on the pavement." He lied. "I lived close by and you looked hurt so I let you rest here." Thomas put a hand over Alex's, revelling in how soft they were. "I'm glad you woke up."
"Oh... Well, thank you very much, Thomas." He smiled. Thomas loved how his name sounded on Alex's tongue. "That's very kind of you to help me out."
"It's my pleasure." He mused, rubbing the pad of his thumb over Alex's knuckles. He made a move to stand, but Alex wrapped his hands around his wrist.
"Do you mind if you walk with me to work?" He asked, face red. "I-I have a bit of migraine and I'd hate to trip or anything on the way."
"Of course." Thomas took hold of one his hands, pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Anything for you."
