I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of shuffling. I rubbed my eyes and gasped.

Alex was in the fetal position, rocking back and forth on the bed, crying softly.

"Alec?" I said, trying to say his name. "Alec?"

His head shot up from in-between his arms. His eyes locked onto my face. They were full of fear.

"John," he breathed, then got up and sat on my bed. "Oh, d-did I wake you? I'm so sorry--"

"Alec," I said. "Here."

I opened my arms, and he broke down sobbing and latched onto me.

"I have these h-horrible dreams about everything that happened to me," he said, shaking profusely. "M-my Mom died of pneumonia when I was really young. My Dad had left home about two years before, trying to find a job and send us money. H-he really loved us a lot. He was really supportive of everything, but he never responded to our messages to come and take my brother and I. We went t-to live with our cousin, Peter, but he committed suicide a few days later. Social services tried to contact my Dad, but then w-we found out he had been murdered by one of his co-workers. I was separated f-from my brother, and that's where everything went to hell. I was sent to Puerto Rico, and from there, the mainland. I lived in a lot of different states and with a lot of horrible families. Nobody really loved me. I-I was just being used. And then a few months ago I came to live with the Washington's, who are the best family I've ever had. I-I really love them--"

There was a faint womanly scream from outside the bedroom door, along with the words, "HE LOVES US, MARTHA! HE LOVES US!"

Alex and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.

~.~

The next morning, I woke up cuddled next to Alex. His arm was wrapped around my torso, pulling me close to his body. His head was on my pillow, and his fingers were tangled in my hair.

I didn't want to wake him up, and I liked the close contact, so I remained there with him until the door burst open to reveal Mr. Washington in the doorway, wearing a baseball cap.

He froze at the sight of us, and our wide eyes met.

"I, uh..." he said, scratching the back of his neck. "Hey, um, d-do you like baseball?"

I nodded. "Uh huh."

"Well, the game's about to start, so if you wanna join me downstairs, you can. The den is on the second floor in the left hall from the elevator. It's the second door. The first door is the bathroom."

I gave him a thumb's up, and he left.

I carefully slipped out of Alex's grip and into my wheelchair, which was sitting by my bedside. I got dressed and wheeled myself to the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor.

When I got there, I could hear Mr. Washington yelling from the den. I cautiously went in to find him jumping around excitedly.

"PRAISE JESUS!" he yelled happily. He spotted me and waved me over. "John! The Yankees just got a home-run!"

I laughed and wheeled over to the couch, where he helped me ease my way onto the cushions.

We watched for a while (the Yankees won) until Martha joined us and we somehow switched over to the series premiere of The Great British Baking Show. We all said our favorite people (I pointed, rather). Turns out Martha's favorite was Martha and George's favorite was Richard.

I immediately pointed at Mel and Sue, which made the both of them laugh.

Alex eventually wandered in and sat next to me on the couch.

"So, Alex," Martha said to her foster son. "Who's your favorite?"

Without any sort of hesitation, he replied, "Chetna."

Martha high-fived him, and we continued watching the episode.

Eventually Mr. Washington had to leave for work, so Alex and Martha and I were left in the den, alone.

"Boys," Martha said, standing up. "You're free to wander around the house. Be careful though. I don't want you to get hurt."

And with that, she left.

Alex and I looked at each other.

"Lesson time."

~.~

I tried again, but all that came out was a desperate hissing sound.

"Come on, John," Alex said, his determination never wavering. "You can do this!"

I shook my head, trying to hold back the desperate tears that were threatening to spill. "I ant."

I can't.

"Yes, you can," Alex pressed. "I believe that you can do this."

The same hiss came out of my mouth again. I gave a small sob and buried my face in my hands.

I couldn't even make a stupid C sound. What kind of person was I?

I felt arms wrap around me. "Try one last time. For me."

I took a shaky breath.

I pressed my tongue against the back of the roof of my mouth, and tried to pronounce the syllable I had been struggling with.

"Kuh."

Alex whooped and cheered happily. "YOU DID IT, JOHN! HOLY SHIT, YOU DID IT!"

I felt a smile cross my face as tears kept running down my cheeks. Alex hugged me tighter, stroking the side of my head gently.

But of course, I couldn't stop crying. I buried my face in my hands and sobbed.

"J-John?" Alex asked tentatively. "What's wrong?"

I didn't know how to answer him, so I just kept crying.

Ever since I was really little, whenever I had started crying, I could never stop. I didn't know why, but my tears just could never stop flowing. My father had called me a pansy because of it, but my Mom just knew that I was very sensitive.

"Hey," Alex whispered, hugging me to his chest. "Hey, John, you're okay. I lo--"

He stopped himself. His face had turned a slight shade of pink.

"A-Alec--"

"D-you wanna go outside?" Alex asked suddenly. "Our backyard is huge, and there's a hammock between two of the trees. W-We could lay in it for a while, if you want."

I nodded, wiping my eyes. "Uh huh."

Alex helped me into my wheelchair and grabbed a fuzzy blanket for me and laid it over my lap, as it had been rather cold lately. We went downstairs and into the backyard, where we ran into a bit of a problem.

There was no wheelamp.

"Um," Alex said, scratching the back of his neck. "I-I can carry you. Is that o-okay?"

I nodded.

He very carefully picked me up from the wheelchair and carried me through the yard. I laid my ear on his chest as he did, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

It was gentle and steady, enough to lull me to sleep. And I almost did become unconscious, because next thing I knew I was laying in the hammock, Alex laying next to me, his head resting on my shoulder.

My breath hitched in my throat. He was so close, and so far away at the same time. He would probably hate me for even thinking about him like that, and I was simultaneously so angry that I couldn't tell him how I felt because my father had smashed my head in with a rock.

My father.

This was all his fault.

Furious tears prickled at the corners of my eyes. I clenched my teeth together and blinked several times, pushing away my emotions.

"The clouds are beautiful, aren't they?"

"Huh?" I said, suddenly wrenched out of my self-pity.

"Look up at the clouds," Alex said, then pointed up at the sky. The gentle puffs were riding on the wind, breaking the striking blue. "Aren't they beautiful?"

"Uh huh," I nodded.

We continued to sit in a now comfortable silence, just watching the clouds.

I eventually felt myself drift off into a dreamless sleep.