#📂 ⤷ 𝚏𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚍 𝚞𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 : alexander / claire fletcher 01

[poetrysings]

location: alexander's apt in green point.

status: closed starter for @bitingironics ( alexander & claire )

he burrowed his brow, deep in concentration as he finished the last touches of whatever recipe he had found worthy enough for claire earlier that week, trying his hardest to make every part look perfect. with thanksgiving passing by, the author had decidedly made an effort to invite each and every person he was thankful for for a dinner at home, made by himself, as a way to show them just how thankful he was to have the people he had in his life. claire happened to be the first name on his list, the day he started planning. it was easy to see that the law professor had had a big impact in his life from the moment they crossed paths when he was only a mere student of hers back in university, the fact that their connection had been strong enough to continue their friendship past his graduation through his decision to give up a career in politics and beyond, was something he never took for granted.

adding a few more touches, he closed the lid of the skillet he had been experimenting on before returning to the living room with claire's choice of beverage and his own, a glass of beer, shooting his former teacher and now current friend, an apologetic grin. "it'll be ready in like, 10 minutes. sorry for the delay. honestly, you're lucky you weren't here an hour ago, i was about to start a fire— someone should really warn the common folk about the dangers of flambé" he jested, handing the other the drink he had offered when she arrived to his home. "but, this gives us a minute to chat. have you made anyone cried yet this semester?" alexander's lips curled up, knowingly, whilst shooting the other a knowing look.

[poetrysings]

there were many memories of the city alexander held dearly to his heart. getting out of the bus from california for the very first time with only a small backpack and a lifetime of dreams was amongst his most precious ones, seeing his first broadway show, spending his first new year in the city as an eighteen year old, falling in love for the first time— the list was extensive.

one of those memories who always served him as a pick me up when he needed them the most, was himself crying for the first time in claire fletcher's office for the very first time, as nothing more than a student. the pressure of chasing his dreams and working three jobs to achieve it, the workload of a whole semester on his shoulders and the ghosts of his past had piled up and everything had come crashing down in claire's office after she had pushed him to do better in her class. looking back, he was grateful for her unwavering trust in him and his prowess, on what he could one day be. alexander himself hadn't seen his own potential as he step into claire's class yet she had shaped him into a person who could not only have a bright future in politics, but with a head on his shoulder that wouldn't allow him to lose sight of why he had gone into the field to begin with.

reason why, when he started to doubt if politics was the path he would pursue for the rest of his life, his biggest concern was what claire would think. his heart was set that as much as he loved the subject and the idea of fighting for a better world from the inside— the chances of it happening where slim to none and it was slowly eating him alive. each day he went to work, sat in the same tables as those who called the shots so wrongfully made him lose a part of himself, sight of what was all for. the night he had taken a flight from washington to new york after getting his pdh and had been asked to become the advisor of the newest postulant for mayor, his biggest concerned had been facing claire, scared she'd be disappointed in him for not trying hard enough. instead, he had been greeted with such a warmth and understanding he hadn't felt since his own mother, which made that the second time alexander weeped in claire's office.

at the time, both occurrences had been bleak. a part of his life his past self was ashamed of; he would rather forget. alexander now was thankful for those memories and more so, for the other person in them. even before his mother died, he had lost her at an early age. there were glimpses of her every few months, were they'd sit to watch a movie or dance around the living room when he'd believe maybe, just maybe, she'd be back and they would be the family he always needed. there had always been hope in him to one day have her mother back, proud of the man she had raised but his dreams had died with her until his university graduation where he could've sworn claire's gaze as he shook her hand after receiving his diploma was prideful, maybe a bit maternal if he let his selfish heart had a saying in it and that was the day he realized.

claire fletcher was the closest thing he had to a maternal figure in his life.

he wasn't surprised by his finding, but rather honored. he knew if alycia warren was alive or he had a way to contact her, she'd think the same as him. she'd love claire as much as he did and she'd be thankful that someone as remarkable as her had took a broken alexander under her wing and had seen something in him alexander himself hadn't seen.

all this, of course. had been unspoken and undisclosed. as the writer alexander now was, he was the first person to appreciate unspoken truths. sometimes words lacked the depth and complexities of human emotions, of bonds that were peculiar to those peeping in. never had he express how he truly felt towards claire nor her involvement in his life, but he tried every time to let his actions speak for him because he was certain no words could explain it accurately. the one word he did tried to often say to claire to express his feelings however, was thankful.

a chuckle escaped him as he shook his head in response to her retort. "big man paying 90k yearly to sleep in class? he'll get far" he shared. he knew how precious time was when in college, especially to the teachers and especially to someone like claire. "he can waste his life away but wasting your time? hope you made him weep" as he had done to him many years ago, for different reasons. then, he cleaned his throat. "do you and ryatt have plans for the 25th? hanukkah starts that day and i'd like to host a small dinner for all the people i care about. you can come in late, i don't care i just want to make sure i spend at least an hour of that day with the two of you, if possible. i'll make a big dinner, all my mothers' specials and i'd like to share it with the two of you. "

glancing around at the little pieces of a young man's life, claire couldn't help but let the smile on her face grow. from the pictures, to the books, to the homey place he lived in, claire felt a warmth of pride echo through her at his determination and his bravery. alexander had done what a lot of people never had the courage to do; stop, turn around, and go the other way. and that way was paved by roads that were rocky and led to some dead ends, to discomfort, but claire knew, had unfailing faith, that he would find his own way eventually.

and she would be there to help him, of that she had promised him when he'd broken down and told her the truth. she remembered the wide-eyed student a nyu, the fierce surge of protectiveness that had overcome her when he had told her that he no longer wanted to be in politics. she'd only felt like that a few times in her life - this surge of response to someone else's emotions, to someone else's pain. claire wondered if he knew just how much she thought of him like her own son, and then stopped wondering, the smile faded and was replaced by something more searching, more intense. she had unknowingly come back to this thing that she did - thought of her inability to disclose her own feelings without being afraid of it, without running away and saying nothing. it seemed to spread like some kind of virus to all aspects of her life; her love life included. she thought of how she couldn't tell ryatt that she loved her, couldn't tell the people that she viewed as practically her own children how much they meant to her.

claire had tried therapy before, a handful of times; she'd hit some kind of wall each and every one. she'd since given up trying to change what seemingly couldn't be changed. trauma was trauma, she thought, you couldn't really get rid of it. still, with that acceptance came a wave of despondence so keen that it left her breathless. she tried to work through her own feelings but the wall that had went up between herself with the words themselves - i love you - had been prevalent every time, so thick and suffocating that the words themselves would be stolen before she could even think to utter them at all. she wished she could just say them...

it would be a relief at this point. maybe.

without the words, all she had left were actions. some said that actions spoke louder than words, sure, but weren't the words nice to hear regardless? wasn't a reassurance comforting? i love you, i love you, i love you, she seemed to whisper in her head at each hello, at each goodbye, at each thoughtful gesture that she made to the people in her life that really mattered; she hoped it was enough. somehow, it just fell flat to claire who had never uttered those three words to anyone in her life. what had never really heard them uttered to her either.

glancing up at alex, some of the thoughts spilling from her mind still echoing in her heavy blue eyes, she greeted him with a grin and reached forward to take the wine that he'd graciously bought for her. taking an experimental sip, she hummed in delight before sitting back into the couch. the smell of dinner wafted from the kitchen, making her stomach rumble slightly, but in the next breath she had tilted her chin up slightly, her gaze turning mischievous at the question. "he deserved it for sleeping in my class." everyone who knew claire, who had been in her lecture hall when she was commanding the space, knew that she was stickler for giving undivided attention to lessons.