Being the president’s son, the golden boy, the perfect heir is not something easy. It’s something Alexander ever wanted either.

His father is on his second presidency, he’s been president ever since Alexander was only twelve and that’s about when he had the last fond memories of his father.

Because now when he looks at him, all he sees is a monster. His father is a man who only cares about his career, with views from the last century, hating every kind of minority there is.

He hasn’t been hugged by his father in years, hell he barely ever sees him.

So he saw his father’s departure for diplomatic reasons as a chance to finally get out of the gilded cage that is the White House. He packed a small backpack, put glasses and a hat on and started driving south. He’s not running away, no, he’d never do that, he never could, his father’s men would find him in a second.

He’s simply going on a trip of his own.

It’s about 10pm when he realises he’ll have to stay somewhere for the night. He pulls over at a motel, getting out of his car and renting a room.