“you were sad so i got you some of your favorite flowers.” and alex walter please?
A QUIET KIND OF LOVE • A. WALTER
pairing: alex walter x sister of jackie!reader.
summary: alex notices you’re quiet. he always does. and when words don’t work, he brings flowers instead.
warnings: pure fluff. soft alex walter. shy!reader. slow burn. comfort. quiet intimacy. hand holding. soft confessions. genlte affection. alex being observant and caring. small acts of love. no smut. no major angst ( just emotional heaviness ).
a/n: it's been a long time since i wrote something, so i hope y'all like it. i really enjoyed writing it!
the first thing you learned after moving onto the walter ranch was that there was nowhere to hide.
the house was too loud. too full.
someone was always shouting from downstairs, someone was always chasing someone else through the hallway, and someone was always stealing food they swore wasn't theirs.
privacy simply didn't exist.
if it wasn't nathan blasting music from his room, it was lee and parker arguing over video games. if it wasn't one of the younger boys running through the kitchen covered in mud, it was katherine calling everyone to dinner before the food got cold.
you'd never lived anywhere like it.
back home in new york, silence had become normal and expected. sometimes unbearable.
here, silence almost felt... suspicious, which was exactly why, by noon, everyone had realized something was wrong.
you hadn't come downstairs for breakfast. you'd ignored danny when he'd knocked on your door asking if you wanted pancakes. you hadn't wandered into the kitchen for coffee.
you hadn't even answered when isaac shouted from downstairs that someone needed another player for basketball.
the walter house noticed absences almost as loudly as it noticed noise.
alex noticed first. he wasn't sure why. maybe because he'd gotten used to seeing you every morning before school.
it had started by accident during your first month on the ranch.
you'd wandered into the kitchen one morning looking half-asleep, still wrapped in one of katherine's sweaters, only to find alex already sitting at the island with a physics textbook open beside his cereal.
"you study before school?" you'd asked, sounding horrified.
he'd shrugged. "it helps."
"i admire your dedication."
"you sound sarcastic."
"i absolutely am."
he'd laughed.
then the next morning, you'd wandered in again. and the morning after that. eventually, neither of you questioned it anymore.
some mornings you talked. some mornings you simply existed in comfortable silence while he worked through calculus problems and you drank coffee slowly enough that katherine joked you were treating every mug like a fine wine tasting.
it became your thing.
quiet mornings before the rest of the house exploded into chaos.
alex liked routines. he liked knowing what to expect, so when your chair sat empty that morning… he noticed.
he didn't say anything. not yet.
by lunch, everyone else had noticed too.
"have either of you seen her?" katherine asked while setting sandwiches on the counter.
"she's probably hiding from cole," danny offered.
"i heard that," cole called from the living room. "you were supposed to." danny called back.
alex looked up from the textbook resting beside his plate.
"she wasn't at breakfast." katherine frowned. "really?"
alex nodded. "and she hasn't answered her phone."
"you texted her?" cole asked, a grin tugging at his mouth.
alex didn't even look at him. "yes."
"ooh."
"it's not like that."
"sure."
alex sighed. "it's literally about homework."
cole raised an eyebrow. "did she answer?"
"...no." that got katherine's attention.
she wiped her hands on a dish towel. "i'll go check on her."
"i'm already going upstairs," alex said quickly.
every head turned toward him. his ears immediately turned pink.
"i mean-" cole smirked. "go on."
"i have to grab another notebook."
"you keep notebooks in the girls' hallway now?"
"i don't-"
"you seem awfully concerned."
alex closed his eyes. "can i just-"
katherine smiled knowingly. "go check on her."
alex left before anyone else could say another word. he ignored the chorus of teasing that followed him up the stairs.
mostly.
"you owe me five bucks!" one of the twins yelled from downstairs. "i told you he'd go first!"
alex groaned. "they're impossible," he muttered to himself.
he stopped outside your bedroom door. normally, he'd knock twice.
you always answered after the second knock.
today… nothing.
he waited. knocked again. still nothing.
his stomach tightened. "you okay?" he called gently.
silence.
then "...yeah."
the answer came after several long seconds. it didn't sound convincing.
"you sure?" another pause.
"i'm just tired."
alex frowned. you were a terrible liar. not because you weren't convincing, but because whenever something was actually wrong, your voice became quieter. smaller, like you were trying not to take up space.
he rested his forehead briefly against the doorframe. "you don't have to open the door."
no answer. "i just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"...i'm okay."
"you don't sound okay."
the silence that followed felt heavier than before.
eventually… "i'm fine, alex."
the words were gentle, but final. he knew enough not to push. "okay." he hesitated.
"if you need anything..." nothing. "...i'll be downstairs."
he walked away. halfway down the hallway, he heard your sniffle.
his hand tightened around the banister. you'd been crying. he was sure of it.
and somehow… that felt worse than if you'd opened the door.
alex spent the rest of the afternoon trying, and failing, to focus.
he reread the same paragraph in his chemistry textbook four times.
he answered a question in history class incorrectly even though he'd known the answer.
danny nudged him with an elbow. "dude."
"what?"
"you've been staring out the window for ten minutes."
"i have not."
"you absolutely have."
alex sighed. "i'm thinking."
"about?"
he looked outside. "...nothing."
danny followed his gaze. "...is this about her?"
alex didn't answer. which was answer enough.
"you like her."
alex looked offended. "i never said that."
"you didn't have to." danny laughed.
"you have the exact same face you made when you spent three days figuring out how to ask your eighth-grade lab partner to homecoming."
"i did not."
"you absolutely did."
alex groaned. "i just..."
he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "i don't know."
"what don't you know?"
"she's been sad lately."
danny’s expression softened. "and you don't know how to help."
alex looked down. "...yeah."
"you could ask."
"i did."
"and?"
"she said she was fine." danny snorted.
"so she's definitely not fine."
"exactly."
the final bell rang before either of them could say anything else. alex packed his bag automatically.
as everyone poured into the parking lot, he remembered something. something you'd said months ago.
it had been spring. the apple trees near the edge of the property had just started blooming.
the two of you had been sitting on the fence watching the horses while he'd attempted to explain a particularly impossible calculus problem.
you'd stopped listening halfway through. instead, you'd been watching wildflowers sway in the breeze. "they're pretty," you'd said absentmindedly.
alex had looked over. "the flowers?"
you nodded. "my mom used to buy these every chance she got."
he'd glanced back toward them. "i didn't know they grew around here."
"they don't."
you smiled a little. "not these." he waited.
"they're..." you'd laughed softly. "actually, forget it."
"what?"
"it sounds silly."
"tell me."
you'd plucked a blade of grass from the fence rail. "my favorite flowers are peonies."
"peonies?"
"they're ridiculously expensive."
"so?"
"so i only ever got them on birthdays."
you'd smiled to yourself. "our kitchen always smelled like them."
you'd looked toward the mountains. "i think that's why i love them."
alex had nodded. then, as usual… he remembered.
he always remembered.
the rest of the day didn’t get easier.
it never really did, once the idea had settled in alex’s mind that something was wrong and you weren’t letting anyone help.
he tried, though. he really did.
he tried to act like he wasn’t replaying your voice from behind the bedroom door over and over in his head. but every time he closed his eyes, he heard it again.
“i’m fine, alex.”
except you weren’t. he knew that now.
by the time he got back to the ranch, the sun was already starting to dip behind the hills, stretching long shadows across the driveway.
the house was loud, as always.
lee and parker were arguing about something involving a soccer ball and a broken lamp.
cole was laughing at something on his phone that definitely shouldn’t have been funny.
katherine was calling from the kitchen, telling someone to take their shoes off before tracking mud inside.
normal chaos. familiar chaos.
alex walked straight through it. “alex!” one of the twins called. “you gonna help us fix the fence later?”
“maybe later,” he said automatically. “that means no!” someone shouted back.
he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. his hands were already slightly sweaty around the small paper bag he’d been holding since he left town.
he almost convinced himself it was stupid, but then he’d thought about your voice again.
you hadn’t come downstairs all day. you hadn’t even been to school. that part hadn’t changed.
alex stood outside your door again. same silence waiting on the other side.
he knocked once. then again. this time, your voice came quicker. “…yeah?”
still soft. still too small. he exhaled.
“it’s me.” a pause. “…alex?”
“yeah.”
another pause, longer this time. then, quietly “...you can come in.” he opened the door slowly.
you were still curled up on the bed, blanket pulled halfway over your legs, hair messy like you’d been lying there for hours without moving.
your eyes were red. you tried to hide it the second you saw him, but failed immediately.
alex closed the door behind him. he didn’t say anything at first. he just looked at you. really looked, like he was trying to memorize the exact shape of your sadness so he could figure out how to carry it for you.
“hey,” he said finally. “hey.”
silence.
you sat up a little straighter, like posture could fix everything. it couldn’t.
he stepped closer, then stopped at the edge of the bed like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to take up space there. “i brought something,” he said.
you frowned slightly. “you didn’t have to-”
“i know.” he held up the paper bag.
then, almost awkwardly “...you were sad so i got you some of your favorite flowers.”
the sentence landed between you both like something fragile being set down very carefully.
you froze. “alex…”
he pulled the bouquet out slowly and there they were.
peonies mixed with soft white blooms and pale pink flowers.
your breath caught. “you remembered,” you whispered.
he blinked. “yeah.”
like it was obvious. like there had never been any question.
your fingers tightened around the blanket. “i told you that once.”
“i know.” you looked down at the flowers, then back at him.
something in your chest cracked open in a way that didn’t feel sharp. just… heavy.
“it was months ago.”
“i know,” he said again, softer this time.
you laughed a little, but it broke halfway through. “why would you even remember that?”
alex frowned slightly, like the question didn’t make sense. “because it was you.”
that was it. so simple like that explained everything.
your throat tightened. you looked away quickly, blinking hard.
“i’ve just been… off,” you admitted quietly. alex nodded once, like he already knew that part. “yeah.”
you swallowed. “it’s stupid.”
“it’s not.”
you hesitated. the words felt stuck somewhere deep, like if you said them out loud, they’d become real in a way you couldn’t take back.
alex didn’t rush you. he never did. he just stood there, patient in that quiet way of his, like he had nowhere else to be.
finally, you said it. barely above a whisper. “it’s the anniversary.”
he didn’t ask of what. he didn’t make you explain immediately. he just nodded slowly.
“... i understand."
somehow that made your chest loosen more than anything else had all day.
you exhaled shakily. “i didn’t want to make it everyone’s problem.”
alex’s expression shifted immediately. not angry. just… certain. “it’s not a problem.”
you looked at him. he stepped closer then, careful, like approaching something fragile.
“you don’t have to do this alone.”
your eyes burned again. “i didn’t know how to say it.”
“you don’t have to know how.”
a beat. then, quieter “you can just tell me.”
your grip on the blanket loosened. “i didn’t think anyone would notice. there is so much else going on all the time.”
alex sat down on the edge of the bed then, slow and deliberate, like he was making a choice to stay. “i did. i noticed.”
he looked at the flowers in your hands, then back at you. “i always notice.”
that did it. something in you finally gave way. not dramatically, just quietly. almost like a held breath you didn’t realize you’d been keeping.
you leaned forward, forehead briefly pressing into his shoulder. alex didn’t hesitate. his arm came around you immediately, steady and warm.
no hesitation. no awkward distance. just there.
you held onto him like it was the only solid thing in the room. “…thank you,” you whispered.
“for what?”
you let out a shaky laugh. “...for the flowers.”
he exhaled softly, like he’d been holding his breath too. “you like them?”
you nodded against him. “yeah.”
a pause. then, almost teasing despite everything “you did good.”
you felt him smile faintly against your hair. “yeah?”
“yeah.”
silence settled again, but this time it didn’t feel empty. just full.
outside, the walter house kept being itself. loud, chaotic, alive. but in here, for once, everything was still. and alex stayed.
as if that had always been the easiest thing in the world.
