Nobody (thekidwhodies) wrote in repose, @ 2019-09-04 22:10:00 |
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Entry tags: | *log, alex white, holly nicodemo-webster, noah nicodemo-webster |
The Good Diner: Alex, Noah, Holly
Who: Alex W, Holly NW, Noah NW
What: More story time
Where: The good diner
When: A recent Sunday, already gone or yet to come (a little time-fuzzy)
Warnings/Rating: Probably low but some mentions of death
For Alex, Sunday morning story time at the Crisis Center had started as a way to repay Claire for the kindness she'd shown him when he'd first come to Repose – basically penniless and with a job but no place to stay so he would be able to hold it down. He felt strongly about repaying his debts, especially those that weren't monetary, and that was his main motivation at the beginning. But, having done it for several weeks now, he found that he really enjoyed it. He loved being around the kids, and he felt passionately about making their lives better – even if it was only for an hour on a Sunday morning. Maybe the other 167 hours of their weeks sucked; he hoped not, but he also hoped that if they did, that one good hour could wash some of that away.
It worked the same with him, too. Walking from the Crisis Center to the diner with Noah, he fully grasped what he was about to do. To reveal. Something he'd forgotten about, listening to Noah reading to the kids as one little boy leaned against his side and a little girl had crawled into his lap, sucking her thumb. Remembering the promises his captors had made caused an itch to start up between his shoulder blades. No, there wasn't much they could do to him that they hadn't already done. They'd killed him, again and again, ninety-three times, digging in for his secrets, treating him like a lab rat. Maybe he was getting too comfortable here. Maybe he was forgetting their promises, disbelieving them. But all he had to do was remember being spread out and pinned down like some kind of specimen to recall their earnestness.
And yet.
He needed to trust. He needed someone to talk to about these things. He needed the support of friends, of people who might actually believe him, and wouldn't use that knowledge against him. He'd found those things here in Repose. Those people: Holly and Noah, Mal, Tandy, Billy, Claire. He had…people. A community. A circle. He hoped against hope that he could get Annie here, somehow, get her into a place where she could start feeling the same things he was – the acceptance and the care and the kindness and the trust.
Summer seemed to be loosening its grip in the past few days, and Alex was grateful, because it meant he could start tacking on layers again. The hoodie, as usual, but not as baggy, not engulfing his frame the way it had six months ago. Or even three. Still slight – he'd always be small – but he had some meat on his bones. His clothes were less ragged, his hair more neatly cut. In short, he didn't look like he'd been starving half to death or living on the streets for the last three years. And he smiled more, he talked more, he didn't hide himself away as much. He wore his clothing the same way, letting it conceal him, but for different reasons now: he preferred the way it looked on him. The fashion, the style. Not because he wanted to keep hidden. He was done hiding. When you had people, you didn't have to hide.