His knowledge of Lena is decidedly limited, consisting of fragments of gossip he’s managed to assemble into a semblance of the truth. He knows enough to tread delicately, at least. Roo isn’t known for his subtlety – quite the contrary – but he’s hesitant to broach the subject of Lena with Alex; he’s of the opinion that it simply isn’t his place, that any attempts to console or offer unsolicited advice would be absurd. He knows nothing about that kind of heartbreak. He likes to believe he has the monopoly on grief, that he’s the only person to have been let down by the world and its inhabitants, but he isn’t. People like Alexander have been dealt more than their own fair share of pain.
Besides, suffering isn’t a competition. Rupert would do well to remember that.
“Good. ‘Cause I wouldn’t be okay if you weren’t okay. I’d be ready to throw hands.” They’re laughably bold claims to come from a tiny human; he has the physical prowess of a soufflé. Successfully throwing hands isn’t in Roo’s repertoire. Mindlessly running his mouth and then hiding behind someone bigger when things get serious? That’s more his style.
In the grand scheme of things, driving away from his problems probably isn’t the wisest course of action, but it’s a seductive notion. A car journey with no proper destination. Open windows and good music. Milkshakes and fries and something – something – other than the mindless monotony of his life. Once again, Alex has known what he needs before Roo himself knows. “Why are you being so nice to me?” Contrary to popular belief, he has some self-awareness. He’s acutely aware of his flaws, at least, of his own too-muchness. It takes a particular brand of human being to be able to stomach his company, but Alex is always so gentle with him, so thoughtful, so unfailingly good. Roo doesn’t deserve it, he’s sure of that, and the knowledge creates a bubble of suspicion. It’s difficult to take kindness at face value when people are usually only nice to you when they want something – a payout or a leg-up in the rough-and-tumble world of business. He almost wishes Alex would treat him the way everyone else does. It would be easier on his heart. “Like, you’re always so good to me and it’s – it’s weird. Nobody is this nice to me. Not unless they want something.”
Alexander throws his head back and laughs, a real belly laugh, the action in stark contrast with both of their reserved responses just seconds earlier, and he closes his eyes and sighs before he leans against the sill and lets the end of his laugh simmer down. It wasn’t necessarily that funny, but the idea of someone like Roo, someone so tender, seemingly fragile, throwing hands with anyone, was enough to pull Alex back from the pits of his mind and Lena and it’s exactly what he needs right now. Maybe it’s not Alexander who takes care of Rupert; maybe it’s the other way around.
At the boy’s next question, any finality of laughter dies out quickly and he looks down at his own hands to think before he looks over to Rupert. He sighs, hates that he even has to ask the question, and instead of replying he simply stands up from where he’d been sitting and walks over to the closed door. So many people behind that door, so much intrigue, gossip, so much potential for pain. So many pitfalls.
And when Alexander looks at Rupert, he sees an old friend, who started at Harvard with Alexander, both of them so fresh faced, and who was now somewhere in Greece, succumbed to the debaucherous lifestyle they could afford because it was easier than keeping the pressure at bay. Occasionally, he’d see pictures on social media, most of the time at various clandestine clubs, always with a drink in hand. Regularly with white powder in the background. They had been destined for greatness; he’d been so talented. Anything he read, he soaked up, anything he put his mind to, he mastered. Now, his greatest achievement seemed to be making it from the club to the beach before the night was over. Alexander had seen it happen once, and once was enough.
“Everyone deserves kindness in their life, Rupert. Lots of it, constantly. Consistently.” He looked at the other for a second, trying to see just how he’d respond if he continued talking, but then decided to say it anyway because if he was offended, at least he’d gotten it out there. “When the idea of kindness feels so foreign to you, you deserve it even more.” It’s a statement that carries weight. It’s a judgement of everyone in the room next doors, everyone in Rupert’s family. And Alexander feels a connection to Rupert, but they’re not that close yet - not on the level to be judging family, he doesn’t think.
“Most importantly,” he then cuts in, a lighter note just around the corner. “I want to be your friend. It’s fun to beat you in basketball.” He shrugged, carelessly, as his hand stroked the door frame, pretending to be interested in the coat of paint it was doused in, then finally settled on looking back over to Rupert. “So. Are you in or not? Six thirty, tomorrow morning. You and I, and my brilliant car.”
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