A/N: If you are reading this I finally decided to let this fic see the light of day. I wasnât sure if this is something I wanted to post or not, seeing as Link is a very complex character. By that I mean heâs literally a walking piece of shit. But at the same time Iâm constantly telling myself that it is normal to write fix it fics for awful characters, but like the whole Isabelle situation is very hard to write about. I wanted to see an ending for Link/Alex where he gets the help he deserves. He is severely mentally ill. But I also wanted to touch on Linkâs past, and how this went on for as long as it did.I also selfishly wanted to see him have a love story and have human emotions sooo..
Please reblog and comment, pretty please.
Genre: Fix it FicÂ
Pairing: Link/Alex Goodrich x Fem! Reader/OC-ish
Content Warnings: Mentions of suicide, person talking about struggles of being on the ASPD spectrum, talks of psychiatric hospital stays, bodily harm, neglect of childâs mental health.
Alexander Goodrich
It glared back at him in dull blue ink.
It was an unfamiliar moniker scrawled at the top of the sign out sheet. The longer he stared the more alien it felt to him. Alex was a kid who burnt down a school, Alexander was the beloved son to a local politician who had to put on a good face for mommy and daddy.
Parents who deny their kid mental health assistance, create monsters. The Goodrichâs today would deny that the hot mess YouTuber, donning the name âNo One Specialâ or more simply Link, was not their estranged son. That their dear son, Alex, had run off two months into a psychiatric stay that never happened; never to be seen again. When in all reality he was shipped off to a boarding school he had run away from only days later. Since that day he was constantly ghosting about, avoiding the issues he had caused by running away. No amount of running could stop the issues he had for so long. He was not- is not a good person. But before facing that knowledge he knew he could always run away, try again- and if that didnât work; heâd run away again.
Till he couldnât run anymore.
Everywhere he ran cameras, girls, articles talking about no one special followed him. He had fucked up, worse than he had in a long time. A girl died because of him, because he let power get to his head. Not because of Frankie, Jake, or the internet.
Because of him. He was the reason a girl was dead.
âAlex.â A nurse's voice rang out through the white, cold halls of the hospital.
Evansport Long-Term Psychiatric Care Facility in LA was a cold place, even with its blue and yellow painted walls. This had been home for the last two years, and this time it was different. He swiped at his nose standing up nervously, shoving his sweaty hands into his pockets as he approached the older woman. Counting the tiles as he walked, this was it- he was finally getting to leave. He was ready, he was different- he hoped.
âMr. Goodrich, canât say Iâm not sad to see you go.â Dorothy says, passing the bag of his belongings off to him. Alex nodded, giving her a grateful smile; he tucked the clear bag under his arm hugging the older woman. This was something he had been working on since his diagnosis. Alex had always known there was something going on with him, something much bigger than himself- that made him act how he did. Itâs not that he didnât want to be good, he did. Alex always wanted to be good, no matter what the child psychologists would say. He just didnât know what exactly being good meant, he had always had theseâŚurges. Whether it was to knock his peers off the swingset, beat that kid from gym classes head in if he stared for too long. Alex had no impulse control, he struggled to relate to his peers. But, mom and dad said heâd grow out of it; he never did. He tried, god he tried but he could never find a good way to help himself.
He was not a good person. But he was trying.
âThank you Dottie.â Alex said, dropping his arms, patting his bag. âDo you think there will be people out there?â He asked after a minute, his head nodding towards the door. His voice flattered for a second, there were still people curious about him and it made him sick. Before it would have thrilled him, but now..he didnât even want to see one camera in his face. The flash alone would send him into a spiral he feared.
âNo, no they never guess dismissal right from those silly sources. Besides, you look a little different now huh? Wouldnât notice you unless they stared at ya to hard.â
He did. Link, now Alex, had changed since his check in date. His blonde hair had grown out past his shoulders into his natural brown at one point. Dorothy took it upon herself to cut it for him when heâd max out on reward points. He now dawned a bit more stubble, and perfect brown hair, with a hat and sunglasses no one would notice him- hopefully.
Alex checked everything one last time, before giving Dorothy a tight-lipped smile and turned on his heel heading for the door. It felt like a threat, a gun pointed to his head. He always thought what this day would be like, what he would do when he got out. Link, thatâs who he was when he checked in, thought he would be here two months before he got sick of it. He would check out, cut his hair and run away again, but then the therapy, the medication- it all started to help.
Admitting there was a problem, admitting that he was the problem and that a young girl had died because of what he did. Alex realized he had to change, that it was finally time to help himself.
No more lies.
He gave Isbelleâs family the requested money in court before there was even an opening testament, only requesting to return back to the psychiatric facility with what he had left to pay for it. Now here he was about to throw up, as he crossed the threshold into his new life.
His face flushed at the sunlight, he silently shut the door and started walking up the long driveway towards the gate. He sniffled and cleared his throat, sitting on a bench heâd claim as his own on his daily walks, he wasnât quite ready to take those last few steps out of the gate. Digging in the bag, he pulled everything out: a black button up and slacks he had worn to court, a hoodie, his wallet, his phone.
His phone, he tossed it between his hands- the weight felt sickening in his hand.
âIf it hadnât been for the phone- no the phone didnât cause this.â He reminded himself, he turned it on. Not knowing why, or what he thought he was gonna get out of it. The biggest part of him hoped it wouldnât turn on, in the two years it had been shut off that it just magically died.
The ping of it turning on made him irrationally angry, wanting to just shut it off. Floods of text messages washed over his screen. No twitter, no instagram- he had deleted them on their way back from court.
For a minute everything stopped, no more text messages- till a final ding.
Frankie - Today 8:06 am.
âtwitter source says your stay ends today. we should talk.â
His brother must have been paying on his phone bill somehow, he never mentioned it in their phone conversations. His thumbs danced over the keyboard, typing and erasing a replay- what did he say? Three dots popped up, soon replaced by a message.
Frankie - Today 8:15 am.
âyou know where to find me.â
He closed his phone, shoving it into the pocket of his sweatpants, finally standing and pushing the gate open.
-
The old magic bar was in the middle of town, it was a bit of a walk but it did him good. The sun felt nice, it was finally fall, which meant the wind blew through here and there. As he reached the now abandoned building he halted, looking around. What if this was some sort of ambush- and the minute he walked down that alley his face would be everywhere in the next couple hours. His heart-rate increased, it felt like it was stuck in his throat.
Alexâs feet carried him forward with hesitant, quiet steps. If someone was waiting for him they wouldnât hear him coming.
âFrankie is good, too good. She wouldnât do that. Even if thatâs what you deserved.â
He thought to himself as he looked around. He shoved his hands into his sweatpants, picking at the lint twirling it around between his fingers. Footsteps carefully found their way up the steps, he turned his head automatically.
Frankie looked older now, more mature. Her hair was longer, tucked behind her ear showing her scar off proudly. He always liked when she was confident. Her clothes are no longer ill fitted, but tailored and comforting. Sheâs come into her own.
âHope youâre not here to ambush me.â He says quietly, taking in the woman before him. Frankie shook her head, her fingers dancing on the metal railing.
âNo, no. I should but-â She stopped herself, looking around. âIâve gotten out of the habit of picking out others' to feel better about myself. You should try it.â
Alex laughed, well, he blew air out of his nostrils and let his lips curl up into a bitter smile. âYeah, me too. Never made me feel better about myself.â
âCould have shocked me.â
It was a silence for a moment, it was an unpleasant memory sitting here with her like this. There was a unpleasant lingering in the air like a bomb was going to drop.
âDid you love me? Or even like me?â
There it was.
What a weighted question, he gripped the metal railing swaying back and forth on his feet. âNo.â He admitted, looking Frankie in her eye. âI didnât love you- I donât love I havenât since..well in a really long time. I think..â He stopped himself, thinking about his next few words carefully. âI was infatuated with you. I tricked myself into thinking I loved you. I hurt you and Iâm sorry it had to happen for me to be here now.â
Frankie stared at Link, Alex- whoever this new man in front of her was. âSo who was she? Thereâs always a âsheâ in these situations isnât there?â
Alex laughed, rolling a rock under the sole of his shoe. âWas she one of the girls who fooled around with while we-â
âNo, no..no. She was a girl I had known a long time ago, in high school. I think she was the last person who had ever tried to understand me. She didnât look at me like a project.â
Alexâs heart twisted into a knot thinking about the girl who had up and left him, their hometown, everything. It had been the catalyst- the incident that sent him over the edge. Where was she now?
It wasnât a jab to Frankie, however the twitch of her nose let him know he had offended her. âSorry, sorry I shouldnât have said thatâ It was sincere, Frankie shrugged her shoulders.
âNo itâs true. We just got caught up in each other, the game. We werenât good people.â
âNo we werenât but, hey, I was worse. Clearly.â
Frankie laughed, then the silence grew again. His mind wondered before looking back at the blonde in front of him.
âYou should find her again, when you leave LA.â
âHowâd you know Iâd leave?â He laughed, tilting his head back. âItâs what I do huh?â
âKind of.â Frankie says resting her forearms on the railing. âBut Iâm serious. If youâre on this righteous road of washed up celebrity maybe you should find the one person who made you feel-â
âLike a human?â
âYour words not mine.â Frankie says, pointing a boney finger at him. Alex tilted his head forward and let out a sigh. It had been almost a decade since he had disappeared from his home state, was there any point in returning. He was dead to them, a ghost. Did (Y/N) think he was dead too?
âYeah, yeah maybe I will.â
Frankie nodded at him, waiting for a minute before taking a step back. âYou look good, Link. I am happy for you, but don't think I can forgive you though. Maybe in time.â The man nodded at her, he understood- he didnât want her forgiveness he just wanted her to know.
âI respect that.â He started, pushing himself off the steel railing with his hands in his hoodie pocket. âItâs Alex now by the way.â
Frankie shoved her hands in her pockets looking at him, her eyes raked over his face trying to read him- it still wasnât easy to manage. âWell, Alex, I hope to see you doing good in the future.â
âYou won't see anything about me. Iâm done gonna head back to Connecticut, disappear and become a hermit on the coast.â
âWell, maybe you could keep me updated.â She says as she walks away.
âAre you like my sponsor or something?â He laughs as he stands straight. Frankie shrugged, turning to face him stopping in her tracks.
âMaybe. Go find that girl..have a human experience. Leave everyone alone.â
Alex raised his eyebrows holding back a laugh, he wouldnât know a human experience if it bit him in the ass. He watched her leave, the two raising their hands in an unspoken goodbye. Alex walked out of the alley and into the sun of Los Angeles, breathing in the toxins of the city one last time before heading towards the nearest city.
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just found out that detective jeb pyre is a 100% fictional person and i suddenly donât feel as bad for finding andrew so attractive in under the banner of heaven. itâs tickles the religious trauma corner of my brain and i cannot elaborate.