Orphanage AU: Lams

Chapter 47: Why?

I just saw Dear Evan Hansen with fangirl-of-letters... it was truly amazing... words fail...

---John's POV---

I finally reached our dorm, my arms stuffed with groceries. After a bunch of boxed tumbled down the stairs, snapping a bunch of spaghetti, I definitely wished I had asked for a bag, but I was here now.

Knock, knock, knock, knock, I tapped on the dorm room door with my elbow, knowing Alex was in there. He had just gotten coffee, which meant he was preparing to work. If you give a mouse a cookie, he is going to ask for a glass of milk. If Alex is about to work, he is going to get coffee first.

It was a universal truth.

"Alex!" I called, "Open the door, my arms are full!" I waited patiently for the telltale click, surprised that none came. Knowing Alex, he'd be there in half a second and then apologize for taking so long, tripping over textbooks. Maybe he didn't hear me?

"Aleeeex!" I hit my elbow harder. Bang, bang, bang, bang!

A minute later, I realized that maybe today was some crazy exception.

With a sigh, I set down my armful, boxes of crackers and cereal, pasta and bags of chips, containers of salsa and yogurt tumbling in a heap as I punched in the code.

I knew Alex would have immediately opened the door if he was there, so I wasn't surprised when I opened the door to silence.

Then I did hear something, like a click or a clatter, followed by a soft tap as though something hit something else very softly. I heard someone, but I couldn't see them. It-

Nah. It couldn't be Father. His stealth was not his thing. Could it be Alex?

Leaving his groceries in a heap on the carpeted floor, some containers of yogurt tipping precariously, I checked behind the furniture and the counter, but I couldn't find him. The beds- mine made neatly and his a mess, were untouched, and the couch had nothing but piles of textbooks, folders, and papers. The kitchenette's tiles gleamed as I scanned that area, but he wasn't there either.

Then I doubled back. John, you dumbass. I'd heard a clatter, the ping of metal. I wouldn't have heard that on the carpet. Duh. Well, there was only one other place like this, and that was the bathroom. I was a bit hesitant to open the door because I believed in privacy, so I went to the door and called, "Alex?"

The sound of nothing at all met my ears, so I reached out to open the door, surprised to see my arms bare, then remembering that Alex had reassured me that short sleeves would be ok.

Then I told him- oh fuck please god fuck no please, please, please-

I felt my breath speed up frantically as I pushed the unlocked door open. My breath stopped in my throat as I let out a choked sob that sounded more like whimper at the sight I saw before me.

Alex was sitting, almost, clearly passed out. The gleaming metal blade inches from his limp fingers and the rivers of fresh blood that spilled from his arms, soaking into the long sleeve shirt he'd rolled up and leaving huge, widening stains of blood on his skinny jeans and onto sickening pools on the floor fade it immediately obvious what he'd done.

"Alex-" I sobbed, unsure if it was a whisper or a scream or if I was just crying. Salt of my tears joined the salt of his blood, and then my mind caught up with me and I pulled out my phone, my pale, freckled hand shaking.

9-1-1

I stutter-sobbed out a blubbering plea, "Help, my friend cut he, he he's bleeding a lot please, hurry hurry please..."