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Chapter Text

Columbia college hadn’t been John Laurens first choice of university. Stanford had been his first, along with its insanely impressive medical course and single roomed dorms. He’d been all set to work himself to the bone, to ignore the social side of college life and instead get top of his class in medicine. He didn’t need a roommate; he didn’t want a pair of eyes and a sharp college mind judging him every day. He’d had enough judging to last him a lifetime.

But John wasn’t at Stanford now. He wasn’t following his passion of medicine. Instead he was enrolled and studying law at Columbia college. All it had taken was a stern look from his father and a brief debate to convince John that some battles just weren’t worth fighting. He’d enjoyed debating when he was in high school, he was sure he would find a way to enjoy it here.

No, the course wasn’t the problem. The building before him was. He leans his head against the steering wheel of his car for a moment and gathers himself before opening the driver’s door and heading around to his trunk. He’d probably need one hand to pick up his room key and open his dorm door, so he decides it’s best to just bring his wheeled suitcase in with him, leaving his boxes of possessions in the car for now.

The dorms building was massive. It was the oldest of the three dorm buildings on campus and it was also the most expensive. It had recently been renovated and the inside was meant to be a modern work of art. The outside was red bricked and reminded John of old British apartments. Large bay windows allow a view into the common area on the ground floor and as he passes one of them John can see several college students and family members bustling about the foyer and sitting room area.

It must be nice to have someone help you move in, he bitterly thinks before shaking himself out of his own self-deprecation. His siblings were too young to get a bus back home from here alone and he wouldn’t have wanted his fathers help in a million years. He did not need to deal with that type of attention on his first day.

He lugs his case up the steps at the front door and rolls it across the wooden floor of the foyer. He notices a desk to his right with a woman seated behind it. She looks to be in her forties or so and she smiles at John as he enters the building.

“Name sir?” She asks as her eyes flicker from John to his luggage.

“John” He responds, his eyes scanning the desk and noticing several boxes of keys are sitting on it. He assumes one of them will unlock his new personal hell, a shared room.

“John- ?” Her voice trails off as she looks down at a sheet before her, her finger tracing a list of names starting with J. She gives him a flicker of a confused look and it takes John a moment to realise she needs a surname.

“Laurens” He says, just loud enough for her to hear. He feels himself glancing around as he says it, but no one near by seems to have heard him. In fact, everyone in the foyer was either talking obnoxiously loud, or hurrying through the chaos.

By the time he’s back to watching her flick through sheets, she’s found his name. “Ah yes, room 314. Third floor, you want to turn right at the staircase or if you take the elevator it’ll be to the left” She gives him another beaming smile as she hands him a silver key attached to a plastic tag that has his room number on it.

“Thanks” He tries to smile back at her as he leaves, it’s probably a good idea to make a good impression with the administration around here. Especially if he ends up with some unbearable roommate that he would have to try get away from.

He walks away from the desk and darts his gaze around the room to try find the elevators. The silver doors are just around the corner but there’s a queue of about ten or so people waiting to use them, all carrying much heavier looking items than John.

He changes tactic and heads to the large double width stairs that go up in the middle of the foyer and twist around into a loose spiral. As he approaches the stairs, he notices a well-dressed man struggling to balance an overflowing box in one hand and drag a large case up behind him with the other.

“Need some help?” John asks from behind, already using his free hand to grab a handle on the bag that’s on the opposite side of the case to where the man was clutching it.

The man whips his head around to glance at John over his shoulder, his brown eyes wide at first but relaxing as the strain on his arm eases up.

“Yes, very much so”

The pair struggle up the stairs and the man indicates he’s also heading to the third floor. Trying to lug a case with each arm leaves John’s biceps burning, but it feels nice to help someone out and possibly be making, at the very least, an acquaintance at this new place.

When they reach the landing, John lets the other man’s case down and gently shakes the pain from his arm away.

“Thank you, uh-” The man pauses, realising he hadn’t asked for John’s name.

“John” He stretches his hand out as he says it and the man shifts the weight of the box against his chest and puts out his own hand.

“Aaron Burr”

The name strikes a memory in John’s head and he realises he recognises it. Burr used to be a politician his dad knew. He’d heard his dad give out about the man before, referring to him as indecisive and a centralist. John couldn’t even remember the party he was in. That opinion was from two years ago though, before Burr and his wife had passed away in a shipping incident.

“I better go find my room, but thanks again John. I didn’t know how I was going to make it up here” Burr picks up his case and heads in the opposite direction to where Laurens was going. Without meaning to he watches the room Burr enters and catalogues it away. At least he knew where he could find one friendly face around here.

One friendly face Jack, that’s all you truly need in life.

Laurens ignores the quote ringing in his head and trudges down the long and twisting corridor towards his room. The hallways are pretty simple, maroon carpets, cream walls and wooden doors decorated with white boards and metal numbering.

A few of the doors are open as he passes, inside people are putting up posters, making beds and chatting amongst each other. How did people already know each other here?

He walks slower than usual, dreading his own room reveal. He sends a silent prayer to whatever is out there that he made it to the room first. Or that his roomie had decorated and gone out somewhere. He’d much prefer to set up alone and get his bearings.

As he turns a corner, he finally catches sight of his room and… the door was open. Worse yet, raised voices were already drifting from it.

“Of course, it’s important, if my desk wobbles while I work then I’ll never get anything done!” The voice is somewhat high-pitched John notes and sounds quite frustrated.

“Why not just swap with your roommate then? It’s not like he’ll notice” Another male voice replies, this one with a thick French accent.

“No, that’d be rude Laf, plus I’d only have to deal with the noise of him wobbling it and-”

The voice cuts off mid rant as Lauren’s gently raps his knuckles on the door. The room is basic enough, two single beds sit either side of the room with dressing tables separating them, desks are placed at the foot of the beds and the wardrobes are on either side of the doorway as you enter.

One of the two men is sprawled across the bed on the left-hand side of the room, he has a clean-cut beard and curly black hair pulled back into tight high bun and is wearing a pink tank top and light grey sweatpants. The French man, Laurens pieces together as he notices the other man who’d been ranting about the desk was kneeling on the floor stuffing paper under one of the legs as he rocks the table against it.

The man straightens abruptly as Lauren drags his case into the room. He’s slightly smaller than John, that surprisingly is the first thought to pass through his mind. He also has long chestnut hair that’s tied back in a low ponytail. This man has a goatee and is wearing some faded jeans and a grey hoodie with Columbia in capital letters across it.

“Ah you must be my roommate, I’m Alexander, Alexander Hamilton, although most people just call me Alex. I hope you don’t mind I took this side of the room, I didn’t really have a preference but I was first here so I just picked, but if you have a thing about the right side of the room that’s fine, I’ve no issue moving! Oh, this is Lafayette by the way.” He gestures to the other man “You’ll probably see him a lot we’re practically brothers and he’s only three rooms down. He studies history, creative writing and politics. I join him with the last one, although I’m doing all law and politcal related subjects. As well as any societies on campus that help with that. I-“

“Alex, Alex, breath mon ami, you’re going to scare him off” Lafayette thankfully stops the word vomit that is being hurled at Laurens and places a hand on the man’s shoulder to grab Hamilton’s attention.

Alex glances briefly at the French man, who was standing a good few inches taller than Alex, before whipping his gaze back to the still silent Laurens.

“Right, sorry. I tend to ramble” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t even catch your name”

John feels a small flutter in his stomach at the curious and bright expression on the shorter man’s face. Laurens couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen such an enthusiastic introduction. Alex’s eyes had lit up as he spoke, his body tensed, and his arms wind milled excitedly around as he spoke. John’s roommate was certainly something.

“John-” He pauses for half a second before continuing, realising in a split moment that he couldn’t exactly hide his surname from a roommate. He could probably just emit it for the moment though. “-and ah the right side is fine” He shakes the outstretched hand, noting the firm and aggressive grip the other man uses as his face breaks out into a grin.

John lugs his case onto his bed and can feel the pairs eyes on him as he does so.

“What do you study then John?” Lafayette questions, the man leaning against the wardrobe now as Hamilton finally steadies his desk.

“Law” John responds easily, glad there wasn’t a follow up question on his full name.

Alex’s head whips around at that, Laurens is surprised he doesn’t snap his neck with the speed.

“We’re probably taking a lot of the same modules then. That’s perfect! Notes will be a lot more reliable with two of us, not to mention group assignments and online quizzes and-”
“Alexxx” Lafayette groans, smiling fondly at the other man.

Hamilton has enough awareness it seems to look somewhat guilty “Right sorry off again”

John lets out a light chuckle “It’s alright. Most of my friends back home are debaters, I’m well used to talkative folk”

Alex’s whole face lights up at this revelation.

“Debater huh? I loved debating back in high school. I went all over America at one point with my school’s team. We never won in the end though, but we got runner up twice for nationals. You competed yourself then? Where’s home for you?”

It takes John a moment to realise the question he should be taking away from this roundabout rant was where was John’s home. “South Carolina”

The answer gets a more shadowed look across his roommate’s face “The south huh? Should have guessed by the accent. I’ve been living in New York the last few years with my foster family, same with Laf here, although as you can guess he’s French. Do you find the south very-”

The question that was about to be thrown at him is cut off by another figure bounding loudly into the room.

“There you two are! I've been waiting in the foyer for the last ten minutes, I thought we were hitting up the orientation hall to sign up for things!” A broad shouldered, somewhat intimidating man stands arms crossed at the doorway staring down the now sheepish looking Lafayette and Hamilton.

“This is our other good friend Hercules Mulligan. He doesn’t usually look this angry, or well that’s not true, but- I swear he’s a softie” Alex explains, noticing the startled look on John’s face.

“Sorry Herc, we bumped into Alex’s roommate” Lafayette gestures towards him.

Hercules gives Laurens a quick up and down and nods his head as a greeting.

“Nice to meet yeah, sorry if these two morons already have you wanting to pack up”

Lafayette lets out a mocking gasp and dramatically clasps a hand over his chest as Hamilton sends the larger man a glare.

“You’re hilarious Herc, this is John by the way, John-“ Alex’s voice trails off as he glances back at John, realising he didn’t know his roommates full name.

After an awkward pause John fills it in “Laurens. John Laurens.”

“Laurens huh? I don’t know many of them. Except of course for that pompous asshole politician Henry Laurens, down in South-“ Alex’s voice trails off again. John can practically see the gears turning in the other man’s head and he feels himself inwardly cringe. Of course he’d get roomed with some politics fanatic. He knows before Alex has even opened his mouth that the man has it figured out, they’re from the same state and “He’s not like your uncle or something is he?”

Before he can even answer it’s clear the tone in the room has completely changed. Lafayette is standing up straight now, his chin raised and his eyes sharply scanning John’s face. Hercules does the opposite; he starts to lean against the door frame, somehow that seems even more intimidating. As for Hamilton, his whole body has gone rigid.

“My father actually” John reveals. He can feel his heart pounding as he says it, he can feel the twist in his stomach and the sudden dryness of his mouth. The silence that falls over the room leaves a slight ringing in John’s ears and a stinging in his eyes as he forces himself to keep them open, to watch the reaction of the room.

The reaction is immediate. The friendly welcoming faces go cold and stony. It’s obvious John’s father was someone the group despised, or at least his bills and ideals were.

“I see” Alex’s voice is void of all it’s previous emotion, his eyes are dimmer, and his smile is long wiped away. The response feels like a stone dropping in John’s stomach. He’d been starting to like his roommate, over the past five minutes he’d gotten somewhat attached, wondering if maybe he would have a friend here, one to work with as Alex had suggested not even two minutes ago. He could feel the fairy tale drifting far from his reach.

“Well then, I hope you won’t be too uncomfortable sleeping in the same room as a queer immigrant. Of course, I’m sure you can always call down to administration and get yourself a room swap, wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable with my gay longing looks or the chance that I might steal your shit or your job or something” The words ram into Lauren’s chest like tiny darts.

He could hear the exact parts of Hamilton’s tirade that were perfect quotations from speeches his father had given on television and at rallies. The man’s tone was harsh and spitting and John was hit with this heavy feeling of unfairness. Who did this guy think he was throwing assumptions at John? Just because of who his father was.

Lauren’s had spent most of his life dealing with this exact type of crap and he could feel parts of his blood boiling under his skin. He wasn’t sure if it was from frustration or anger, but he bit back at his now glaring roommate.

“Sounds to me like you’re the one with the problem Hamilton” The surname runs out of his mouth with more spite than John intended, Alex’s eyes narrow instinctively at the tone. “If you’re so uncomfortable bunking with a southern conservative you can visit the office yourself, you know in case I fill my wardrobe with guns or pin a confederate flag above my bed.”

He takes a step forward as he talks, the two men now almost nose to nose. The two inches of height giving John this small sense of smug satisfaction. The thing is though, John wasn’t really a conservative, a fact that had destroyed his relationship with his father a long time ago, nor did he have any guns or that awful flag tucked away in any of his cases or boxes. He was just saying similar presumptuous stereotypes to Hamilton to get back at him. Alex had judged him in a split second and made up is own mind about John, he wasn’t going to stammer through reasons why Hamilton should like him, or why he was wrong about John. The jackass could figure that out himself if he wanted.

Anger flares up in Hamilton’s eyes “Are you out of your goddamn-”

Before Alex can break into what was definitely going to be a heated and scathing retort, Lafayette interrupts.

“Alex.” His voice is stern, not at all like the light-hearted sing song tone he’d been using a moment ago “He’s not worth it. C’mon we can go sort this out downstairs, you two obviously won’t suit living together.”

The French man looks John up and down again, like he’s seeing him for the first time since he’d entered the room. His lips are drawn into a straight and disgusted line.

“Yeah Ham, this sucker isn’t worth your words. It’ll be like talking to the wall.”

The pair exit, glaring daggers at John and hovering outside the door for their friend.

Alexander gives John one last frustrated and confused glare, like he can’t comprehend the very existence of the man, before he storms out of the room. He slams the door behind him on the way out and as the sound echoes through him, John finds himself sitting on the edge of the free bed, his hands curled into quaking fists.

The world’s not fair Jack. That’s why we have to be. Everyone gets a chance. Everyone can be loved

His mom had obviously never met someone as arrogant and self-righteous as Alexander Hamilton.

Chapter Text

Alexander Hamilton was struggling to remember the last time he had been this livid. He was standing outside the dorm’s administration office with his arms folded, refusing to leave until they helped him.

“Look sir, there’s really nothing we can do for you. Our dorms have a strict no swapping procedure that can only be overlooked if one of the roommates feels threatened or has significant proof of harassment.” The 30 year old male clerk was wringing his hands nervously as he spoke. He had almost half a foot of height on Alex, but the malice waves of fury radiating off the smaller college man is much more terrifying.

“I’m telling you I feel threatened! I’m rooming with a southern conservative; he’s going to shoot me in the side ‘accidentally’ some day and then sir it’ll be your head on the line” Hamilton jabs a finger aggressively towards the man as he speaks.

“I’m afraid that a difference in political opinions is not a sufficient reason to-”

Alex doesn’t let him finish. After several minutes of this insufferable conversation he realises this is all textbook learnt off answers. He wasn’t going to get anywhere with this man.

“I’ll be back” Alex warns as he storms out of the building “With proof!”

It wasn’t like it’d take long. If there was one thing Hamilton was great at, it was being annoying beyond belief. All he had to do was push this Laurens guys buttons hard enough and the man would eventually snap, showing his true southern conservative feral self.

“No luck?” Hercules guesses as Alex stomps over to them. They were sat on a bench outside the office building, Hercules had his elbows resting on his knees while Lafayette was spread out and slouching against the other side of the bench.

“Apparently my concerns aren’t sufficient enough reasons for a room change” The words slither out from beneath his still grinding teeth. He’s so frustrated that he doesn’t notice the worried glance shared between his friends.

“Well look as you usually say, no sweat” Lafayette tries, jumping to his feet and waving his hands dramatically, trying to grab Alex’s attention. “You can always take the floor in Hercules and I’s room and just ignore him when you do have to be in there.”

“Oh, I don’t plan on going anywhere Laf, I’ll outlast that asshole, give him an idea of what it’s like to be someone always looking over their shoulder, always tense, always-”

“Right well,” Hercules cuts Hamilton off mid rant as he stands up and wraps an arm around his friend’s shoulders “before you get too far into your evil genius, diabolical plans of ridding your room of Mr John Laurens, can we please, for the love of God, go to the orientation hall.”

Lafayette lets out a laugh as he notices the almost pouting expression on Mulligan’s face “Oui oui mon ami, anything to cheer our sorry selves up”

Alex sighs, that last part of Laf’s line was an understatement. He needed a distraction. He needed to forget about his room for the moment. He’d been so excited for a roommate, hoping and praying that they’d be interested in the same stuff as him. That they wouldn’t mind him staying up late, wouldn’t mind his ranting. When he’d heard Laurens was a law major, he’d felt his heart soar several stories higher than the building. Now, as he followed his friends to one of the large halls on campus, he felt like he was marching through a thick pond of muck.

His friends more or less dragged him all the way to the societies and clubs sign up stands. They cracked jokes, made plans for the week ahead and overall, just did their best to get his mind targeted on something else. It wasn’t long before he was laughing along and fooling with them as they sauntered through the sign-up tables.

“So, what’s the plan men?” Lafayette questions, his eyes already scanning over the creative drawing society’s sign up desk.

“Well I think Ham and I can guess where you’re going” Hercules teases, catching his friend’s longing gaze. “Go sign-up for your drawing, I can just about see the lacrosse stand down the back so I’m a head there”

Lafayette’s eyes flick to Hamilton to see where he’s looking and he realises his shorter friend was already power walking towards the debater’s desk.

“Typical” The abandoned pair mutter in unison before laughing it off and heading towards their own interests.

“Hello, I’d like to sign up for the college debating team. I’ve loads of experience already if that’s needed, I competed in competitions all across America the last few years and I was often picked for the panel. My name’s Alex by the way, Alexander Hamilton” The words tumble out of his mouth before the pretty woman behind the desk can even hand him a sign-up document.

“Well, I can certainly see you’re eager and motivated for the society. That’s always a plus” the woman chuckles, handing him across a pen and form. “Angelica Schuyler, I’m the head of the society”

“A pleasure” Alex grins, glancing away from the form long enough to give her a warm smile.

“At least we know your diction and words per minute is strong too” A second voice buts in, this time the tone is a lot more sarcastic and condescending.

Alex signs off his name with a flourish and turns his attention to the lanky male grinning at him across the table, he’s seated right beside Angelica.

“Thomas, Thomas Jefferson, vice-head of the debaters club” The man announces, before Alex even has the chance to ask the man for his name.

“Also, a pleasure” Alex replies, with not nearly as much warmth.

“I’m sure” the man rolls his eyes in a way that makes Alex’s skin crawl, but before he can pick a fight with the man a girl comes up to the table and starts asking him questions about the society.

“Ignore him” Angelica sighs, a half smirk on her face “He’s just intimidated by flesh blood”

“Am not” Thomas manages to throw in, before going through the application form with the lady.

“Here, this has all our social media details on it. You’ll be able to find out when practice is on and such.” She hands him over a business card littered with @ symbols, websites and an e-mail address. There’s a moment where the pairs hands brush and Alex has a brief thought about how soft and warm her hand felt before he’s waving goodbye to her. Her cheeks are tinged a slight red he notes, and he hopes she’s not getting dehydrated in the stuffy and humid air of the hall.

His eyes scan the crowd to try pick out the usual mess of Lafayette’s hair bouncing about above the average height of most American crowds. As usual it’s not too hard to spot and his eye’s also catch sigh of a rainbow coloured, flag decorated stall beside his friend. Ah, Lafayette had finally found the best society on campus.

He catches up to his friend and ends up interrupting a conversation between him and a stunning brunette girl.

“Ah Alexander, there you are!” Lafayette grins as soon as he catches eyes with his friend. “This lovely lady Eliza Schuyler was just telling me about the pride parade they’ll be hosting in second semester!”

“Schuyler?” Alex can’t help but question, an uncommon surname he’d just heard moments before.

“Yes, I’m assuming you just came from chatting to my sister” Eliza laughs, pointing her chin towards Angelica several stalls down.

“Yes, I have. She’s a much better face for the society than the man seated beside her”

That gets a snort from Eliza “Thomas is a sweetheart really; he just tends to come off quite prickly at times”

“I’ve noticed” Alex deadpans before flicking his gaze across the stall. “So, what kind of stuff do you guys do throughout the year? I saw on your Facebook page you had all kinds of events, rallies, parades, anything I could think of, going on last year. Will it be like that again this year? I had some ideas actually for this one-” Alexander Hamilton rants about ideas and movements and everything in between for the next several minutes. He’s so invested in his beliefs that he doesn’t notice the awestruck look on Eliza’s face or the fact that she was hanging on to almost every word he was saying.

Hercules and Lafayette manage to get through their application forms before sharing a knowing look at one another. Another person has fallen for the charm and energy that is their best friend, Alexander Hamilton.

-------------

After thirty minutes of lugging boxes up the stairs to his room and getting his clothes hung up, Hamilton still hadn’t returned. John assumes the room swapping process was not as smooth as Alex had previously assumed.

He glares at the still full boxes; he really didn’t feel like unpacking them right now. He didn’t want to set up in this stupid room with his jackass roommate.

John lets himself pause to have a proper look at Hamilton’s side of the room. His bed sheet is a mix of golds and blacks but is pretty non-descript. He has a battered looking laptop sitting on his desk as well as a litter of books, notebooks, pens and a stack of paper. Someone was excited for note taking it seemed.

Lauren’s also spots a framed picture of Alex and Lafayette on his bedside table with…no way. John marches forward and grabs the photo frame. He brings it up to the light coming in from the window above their bedside tables and sucks in a deep breath. Stood behind the two boys in the image was the very famous, very well-known, George Washington. A known liberal politician based up in New York.

Suddenly their first impressions made a lot more sense.

Out of all the people in the world to room with, the son of Henry Laurens was apparently rooming with the foster kid of George Washington, Henry's number one rival. John glances briefly at their shared bathroom door as he leaves the picture back down on Hamilton’s desk, he suddenly feels like he might get sick.

Before he can think too much on the now unnervingly large problem on his hands, there’s a gentle knock on the door. It must be someone looking for Alex, no one here knew him yet.

He reluctantly swings the door open and is startled to find Aaron Burr on the other side.

“Ah John there you are, I’d hoped I’d gotten the room right. I hope you don’t mind I noticed the numbers on your key tag earlier. I was about to head down to the orientation hall, figured you might be looking to sign up for something yourself?”

The gesture was sweet, Aaron going out of his way to include John. At least that was John’s first thought before he notices the nervous fiddling of Burr’s sleeve and the smile that didn’t quite reach the other man’s eyes. The gaze looked almost pleading. Maybe John wasn’t the only one feeling alone and out of their depth today.

“Yeah I am actually, thanks for thinking of me” He smiles brightly as he speaks, feeling accomplished as he notices the tension drain from Burr’s tense shoulders. He grabs his phone and a leather jacket and locks the door behind him before the pair head for the foyer.

“I realise I never did catch your full name earlier, sorry about that” Aaron comments as they make their way down the stairs.

“Right sorry, it’s uh Lauren’s, John Laurens”

Aaron’s steps falter for a second and John gets another wave of nauseous, another person on campus is now apparently going to hate him.

“Ah yes, Henry’s son, right? Oh, sorry man, we probably met a few times in the past then at events and such. I’m pretty sure my father Aaron Burr, uh senior that is, knew your father a few years back” Apparently the almost stumble was just from shock of Burr figuring out the pair should already know each other. As he speaks John scans his face for any change of expression and to his shock Burr just looks more relaxed than before.

“No need to apologise, honestly I don’t really remember you either. We probably did see each other around but I’m sure you remember how dull and long those events were. I think I’ve been politely introduced to a couple hundred sons and daughters of various politicians”

Burr lets out a hearty laugh at John’s comment. The sound lifted a weight off John’s shoulders that he hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying. It felt nice.

“We’d probably have quite the network if we’d all kept in touch” Burr comments as they exit the building and start making their way through several tree cocooned lanes as they make their way across campus towards the main events hall.

“True, but good lord some of them were incredibly dull”

Another laugh from Burr and suddenly John’s day isn’t so bad.

“I’m pretty sure the most exciting conversation I ever had with any of those kids was about a toy model train they’d gotten that Christmas. It ended up turning into an hour-long lecture from the kid about different kinds of steam engines.”

Now it was Lauren’s turn to chuckle “Sounds about right. I have a feeling we’ll find much more colourful people at this place”

“I don’t doubt that. I noticed your roommates’ stuff was up already, anyone interesting?”

“Interesting as in he’s a complete douche” Despite barely knowing the man, John ends up telling him all about the confrontation in his room that had happened just an hour ago. He leaves out some of his internal monologue, some of that was way too personal for a newly forming friend. He does however rant for a minute or two about the presumptuous and downright rudeness of Alexander Hamilton.
Aaron pauses before replying to John’s little rant about his roommate and for a moment John worries, he’d told the man too much. Maybe Burr would agree with Hamilton…

“I’m guessing that sort of reaction is why you left your surname out of your introduction earlier?”

John feels like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he sheepishly nods in head in affirmation.

“Something like that…”

He chances a glance at Burr and realises the man is giving him a calculating and assessing blank look. The emotion that eventually settles on Burr’s face, however, is pity.

“Tm sorry you have to carry that around John. I know all about family names and the weight they hold” He sounds sad as he says it, but he keeps a small smile on his face. The optimism gives John a new impression the young man.

“Well, let’s start crafting our own legacies then. No more shadows or weight carrying. There must be at least one society here we can make a name in” Lauren’s suggests, grinning around the bustling room of students and the endless maze of sign up stands.

“Sounds good to me. There’s an acapella group I saw on the college website; I’m going to circle around and try find them. Meet back here in fifteen to see how we’re both getting on?”

“Sounds good to me” John grins, giving the once again nervous looking man a reassuring smile before he loses himself in the crowd.

There wasn’t many groups John had been interested in when he’d looked them up online. John was a perfectionist in everything he did, and he knew better than to spread himself too thin by joining too many groups.

The main two clubs to interest him had been the debating society and the creative drawing society. They would fill up any extra hours Lauren had spare after studying and projects. They would also be a good distraction to work on if he was going to be stuck in that room with Hamilton.

He finds the debating table first and starts pushing his way through the crowd. He almost stops dead though as he hears the obnoxious ranting of Alexander behind him as he’s about halfway down a row of club stalls.

He turns his head and spots Hamilton in mid rant to some woman at a rainbow decorated stall. “PRIDE” was written across a wooden sign above it that John easily recognised as the college’s LGBTQ+ society. He’d investigated the group a few days back and although he wasn’t keen on attending some of the bigger rallies and demonstrations, the safe spaces and smaller events had interested him.

It would have been his first chance to really get to know the community and make more friends in it. His online friends were incredible and had always reassured him of his insecurities within the community. They were always there when the guilt of what his father was doing to the community got to him and he started to believe he was some kind of sick espionage fraud. He’d been hoping to find that kind of support in person for once.

The dream comes crashing down as the reality of his life sinks into his gut. If he even stepped foot near that stall today, not a mind an event, Hamilton would surely just rip him to pieces in front of the other members. No, John wouldn’t be welcome there. It was one experience he wouldn’t have the privilege of seeking.

He doesn’t even realise he’s scowling until Alexander takes that moment to notice him glaring down the row. The man’s eyes widen briefly before he shoots John an infuriated scowl. From Hamilton’s perspective it probably looked like John was angry about the mere existence of the society, not the fact that Lauren’s was furious he wouldn’t get to be a part of it.

He turns quickly on his heel and marches towards the debating desk. He didn’t have the energy to deal with the mess at his back right now. He needed something positive to look forward to this week, seeing as classes wouldn’t start until next Monday, a whole six days away.

“Hi, I’d like to sign up for this society” John approaches the debating table right as a woman leaves one of the seats from behind it. She gets lost in the crowd before Lauren’s even gets a good look at her.
A broad-shouldered man takes her place and although it’s quite rude, Lauren’s finds himself ignoring the charismatic brightly dressed student behind the desk who’d started to answer John’s question.

“Madison?” It couldn’t be… could it?

The man in question whips his head up from the papers he’d been sorting through as he sat down, a curious look on his face that quickly turns to recognition.

“Laurens, John Laurens, I thought you were attending Stanford this year?” Madison questions, a look of intrigue passing over his face.

“That had been the plan but, I changed majors last minute. Columbia had the better law course”

How could John have forgotten Madison was going here? James and John weren’t exactly friends. They’d never been close or overly eager to stay in touch with one another. But their fathers were always arm and arm at almost every event the two boys got dragged to. They’d spent days of their lives together, trying to get through dull days and boring business meetings.

John actually felt like crying a little in relief. At least one person at this college knew him, knew his story, knew his father, knew at least parts of the narrative that have John and his father at ends with one another.

One friendly face

She was right, it did mean a lot.

“Ah, well I suppose we’ll see each other around a lot then. I’m majoring in it myself, along with my roommate Thomas Jefferson here”

The other man had looked quite put out at being excluded from the conversation, but his face instantly lit up under the other men’s attention.

“John was it? A pleasure to meet you. You’re planning on signing up today?” Jefferson passes him a form and a pen without waiting for a response.

“Yeah, thanks. I hope I’m capable enough for your club though. You guys had quite an impressive win last year” Lauren’s comments. He recognises Thomas now. The guy had been on the national team for the college last year, despite just being a first year.

“Well if you’re friendly with Madison, I’m sure you’re intelligent enough. Stupid people bore him”

Lauren lets out a polite chuckle as Madison rolls his eyes at his debating partner. John passes the form back over and they take his student card for a moment to scan it through the system.

“All set” Madison smiles after the green tick flashes up on the registration screen. “You live on campus John?”

“Yeah, I’m over in the O’Briens dorms”

“Same with us. We’re in Room 215, yourself?” Madison both explains and questions.

“Room 314”

“Good to know” Madison grins, “Jefferson and I are thinking of heading out for something to eat this evening, we’ll stop by your room if you’re not busy and we can all head out and catch up”

The invite gives Lauren’s a comfort he hadn’t known he’d been craving. He had plans, actual plans with a friendly face this evening. Not to mention the other friendly face of Aaron Burr that was probably waiting for him by the front door at this stage.

“Sounds great. I have a friend around here somewhere; you’ve probably met him before too. I’ll bring him along”

“I look forward to meeting him or being reacquainted for that matter. See you around John”

Lauren’s doesn’t respond to Madison just shoots him and Jefferson a wave as he briskly makes his way over to the drawing desk. He signs up to the society without much chit chat, he wasn’t joining this society to talk, he was joining it to draw.

By the time he makes it over to the front door Burr is waiting for him. He smiles as John approaches and Lauren starts to get the smallest bit of hope that maybe, not everything had to be awful today.

Chapter Text

John should have known not to speak too soon. Just as Burr and himself are thinking of doing one last lap of the hall, he hears him.

“John Laurens and Aaron Burr! What are the chances?”

Laurens would know that squeaky voice anywhere. Naturally, with how this day was going, this man would have to show up.

“Lee, good to see you” Burr greets the man with a wide smile as the pair turn to see the squat dark haired man standing behind them with a somewhat creepy grin stretched across his face.

“Am I glad to see some more like minded, high classed people around this place. The number of ruffians I’ve had to deal with today would shock you”

Lee was one of the few people who could always make Laurens feel uneasy. Even now as he spoke, his words were cutting and snobbish; his gaze sharp and scanning the men before him for the response he wants and yet, he could go the whole interaction with an insincere cheery expression.

John was glad Burr cut in with a response first. Laurens suddenly felt like he’d lost his tongue somewhere back at the debating stall.

“It’s always nice to see familiar faces in new crowds.” John was impressed with Burr’s diplomacy. He wasn’t agreeing with anything Lee was saying, and yet made it sound like he was. It was clear Burr had learned a lot from his father.

“True, very true. Speaking of familiar faces, I’m assuming you two will be joining the conservative party’s society on campus? I know your dad used to run it back in his day Laurens. Hope things won’t get too nasty if we both go for the position”

Fat chance of that. John might have been raised as a conservative, but with his mother’s influence at a young age and with his father being away a lot with meetings, John had always leaned on the liberal side. Especially after getting to terms with being gay during his teen years.

He notices Burr looking curiously at him from the side. Charles Lee is practically leaning forward in anticipation for his answer. No doubt that whatever John says will be parroted back to Lee’s father and thrown in John’s fathers face at some point. He’d have to be delicate about how he answers.

“I’m afraid I won’t be joining the society. I’m aiming for top of my class in law and focusing all my extra attention on the debating society. My ambitions after college lean more towards courtrooms and cases than politics”

Lee seems a bit put off by his response, but Laurens also catches a hint of relief. One less person standing in Charles way of dominating the conservative party after university.

“That’s too bad to hear John. You would have made quite the politician. Your father must be disappointed” Lee says the words through another open-mouthed grin. This time John knows the question was being asked purely to be repeated on a phone call this evening.

“My father actually pushed me towards law.” Not exactly a lie. His father would have died of happiness if John had marched into his office one day rearing to be a conservative politician. Charles didn’t need to know that it was medicine Laurens father had steered him away from.

As he’s speaking John gets jostled by some of the crowd and realises they’re standing near the entrance to the hall where a small bottleneck was starting to form.

“I’m sorry Lee but it seems we’re a bit in the way here. We’ll see you around, yes?” Again, Burr’s politeness and ease at interacting with people like Lee astounds John. Ending the sentence with a question for Charles meant the over-eager, unbearable man could get the last word in. It was the perfect goodbye to make Lee feel like it was a positive interaction.

“Of course. Enjoy the rest of your day gentlemen” and with a forced nod of his head, Lee disappears into the crowd and John makes it outside to some fresh air.

“He’s a real piece of work that one” Laurens sighs, as soon as he’s positive they’re out of ear shot.

Burr snickers as the pair unconsciously move towards a nearby café.

“If I told you he was the train story kid would you be surprised?”

“Hah, not in the slightest”

The two men grab a coffee each before seating themselves at a table under a large willow tree, right at the peripheral of the seating area.

“Did your father really push you towards law and away from politics?” The question from Burr surprises John. He hadn’t expected the other man to push the topic.

“Not exactly. He’d love if I joined the conservative party and campaigned at his side” in his shadow “But, I was more interested in doing medicine. Law became the common ground”

“What drove you away from politics then? Surely with how famous your father is, you wouldn’t have struggled to make a name for yourself” Burr stirs a packet of sugar into his coffee as he speaks, not picking up on the uncomfortable look flashing across Laurens’ face.

John rubs at the back of his neck before answering. The movement is a nervous tick he’d been trying to get rid of for years.

“Ah, well the problem with that is…I’m not exactly a conservative”

Burr was either doing a really good job of hiding his surprise or had already worked out Laurens political compass because the man didn’t even blink at the revelation.

There’s a brief lull in the conversation as the two men take a sip of their drinks. Laurens keeps his own coffee dark and strong, the taste bitter against his tongue. Burr struggles to find a response that won’t cause any sort of rift between the pair.

“Well, not everyone follows their parent’s beliefs. You’re a liberal then?”

“Sort of” One of his hands fidgets with the lid of his drink “I try not to think about politics too much if I’m being honest. I always end up feeling angry, helpless or frustrated. I’d rather not build up a list of disagreements between my father and I”

Aaron nods his head as John speaks, letting the man finish without interrupting. He had a feeling this was not the easiest thing for Laurens to admit.

“Please don’t uh, spread that around though. My father’s well aware of my beliefs and our differences but, most of the media doesn’t know. I’d rather not have my tense home life splayed across newspaper headlines” Maybe he shouldn’t have spoken so much. Laurens was already regretting it, already he had the feeling of eyes staring into the back of his head. He hated feeling watched.

“Don’t worry John, that’s your personal business. I won’t say a word to anyone”

The pair move on to more light and amiable conversation and John finds himself letting out a sigh of relief. For every man like Hamilton he would meet in life, there’d always be a Burr to balance it.

---------

“You should have seen the way he was glaring at me across the hall! Like he couldn’t fathom joining a queer society. The homophobia was practically suffocating. How am I meant to room with that? Not only that but did you see him chatting away to Charles Lee on the way out? Scum attracts scum it seems. Oh fuck, what if he brings him around to our room. I don’t think I could handle both of them” Hamilton finds himself once again ranting to his friends about John as they’re making their way through a large pepperoni pizza.

“Hams you seriously got to relax man. Stressing about it isn’t going to prevent it. Just wait for him to step out of line and then you can get a new room” Hercules sighs, trying to talk his friend out of his frenzy.

“Hercules is right mon petit lion. Every time you get annoyed about this or have it ruin your day, is just another win for people like him” Lafayette adds, taking a swig of his drink as he finishes.

“Easy for both of you to say. You get to go back to your shared room” Alex mumbles, absently picking some pepperoni off one of his slices and eating it separately.

“Which you’re welcome to sleep in” Lafayette reminds him.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry I’ll stop complaining”

His friends let out a laugh. “That’ll be the day” Hercules manages to say between chuckles.

Alex rolls his eyes at his friends teasing but internally it makes him feel a lot better.

He hadn’t expected his first day of college to be such a roller coaster of emotions. He was looking forward for classes to kick start and then the time he’d have to spend around John Laurens would drastically fall.

Hamilton enjoys himself that evening. The lads and himself meet up with the Schuyler sisters they’d met earlier that day along with some of the sister’s friends. Angelica was a year ahead of them, so she was able to tell them a lot about what to expect from the year ahead.

They spend the evening bowling at a nearby arcade and then challenging one another to various games. Eliza shows her true colours at being a gaming master and completely whoops Alex at most of the shooter and racing games. Angelica and Hercules go all out on the dance dance revolution game and end up in a draw after several best of 3’s, 5’s, 7’s etc. The only one Hamilton seems to best any of them at is street fighter. He’d been big into playing the game when he first arrived in America and had most of the special combos learnt off.

“Qu'est ce que se passe? You must be cheating” Lafayette groans as Alex kills him for the third time in a row.

“Sorry Laf” Hamilton chuckles, stepping away from the screen as “Game Over” flashes across it.

“I am never playing this stupid game with you ever again. You are the worst”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game” Alex teases, wiggling his eyebrows at his friend.

“Well as fun as it’s been to whoop Hercules ass at dancing” Angelica’s comment earns her a glare from said taller man and a loud scoff “We should head back to the dorms. I am beyond tired after today”

“Here here” Lafayette agrees, throwing an arm around Hamilton’s shoulders as he lets out a yawn. “Je suis fatigué!”

Alex tries to hide his disappointment and worry as the gang walk back towards campus and through it’s many lane ways. But he was not looking forward to seeing Laurens again. How the hell was he meant to sleep in the same room as him?

“It’ll be fine Alexander” Lafayette whispers in his friend’s ear as the dormitory building comes into view. “We’re three doors down don’t forget. Come knock at any time”

Alex just nods glumly, not trusting himself to break into another large rant about his roommate. He’d survived losing his mother, a hurricane, the trip to America and against all odds got himself a scholarship for his dream school. He was not about to be bullied into fearing his own bedroom by some southern asshole.

Hamilton’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when he spends the entire walk up the two flights of stairs hyping himself up for the encounter, to find their room is empty. It’s obvious the other man must have been here for a while at some point in the day because all his possessions are put away on his shelf, desk, bedside table etc, while his case and empty boxes have been piled up on the top of his wardrobe.

Alex’s eyes scan over the sparkling new laptop sitting on his desk, naturally Laurens would have the newest version. There’s also a stack of law books sitting there with a can of stationary beside them. His bedside table is bare bar from a green snow globe with a turtle in it.

John had also decorated his half of the windowsill above it with seven other snow globes. Hamilton scoffs out loud when he notices the seven of them are inspired by the seven wonders of the world. Rich jackass probably had several holidays a year to go to such exotic places. He’s surprised though that someone like Laurens would collect such knick knacks to display.

Alex also notices that above his pillow is a small collage of about ten photos stuck to the wall. There are several people about Laurens age featuring in the photos, along with some young kids; a woman Alex doesn’t recognise, and present in two of photos is, the scumbag himself, Henry Laurens.

The last two things decorating John’s side of the room are a poster for the band Imagine Dragons and a large canvas that was covered in multiple painted turtles. On the bottom left of the canvas Hamilton could spot cursive script reading Happy Birthday J, M x. What was the story with John and turtles?

Before Alex could glare a hole through the other side of the room from the amount of attention he was giving it, the bedroom door swung open and the man himself sauntered in.

Laurens has a smile on his face as he enters, and Alex catches the last of a wave he was giving to someone as he enters the room. His roommate pauses as the door closes as he realises Alex is just standing between their beds glaring at him.

“You got a problem or something?” John challenges, straightening out his back as he crosses his arms. His body language morphing from relaxed to strained.

Alex has a lot of problems with Laurens. He wonders if he tried to hit John with all of them at this moment. would he do so based on priority or would he sort them alphabetically.

He settles on a scoff for now and shoulders past the other man to enter the bathroom and start getting ready for bed.

Laurens waits until he hears the click of the lock on the bathroom door to loosen his now tensed shoulders. He rolls them back a couple times, tilts his head to crack his neck and eventually finds himself seated at his desk.

He’d had such a great evening with Burr, Madison and Jefferson. The four of them had gone to a nearby bar. None of them were old enough to drink yet but they got some food and soda and spent hours talking about their course, hometowns and such.

They all came from similar political backgrounds and as they cycled through stories of events and meetings they’d be dragged to; they’d come to realise they had all been in the same room more than once. They’d just never seemed to hang out as the four of them.

Their conversation did slip to political talk at times, but Burr was as smooth as ever at deflecting any personal opinions he was asked for. He also helped John avoid answering any. John might know Madison longer and better than the other two, but he wasn’t sure how much Madison knew about his relationship with his father. What he did know is both their fathers were close and he wasn’t sure he trusted his friend with his liberal secret just yet.

Laurens had gotten a chance to know Jefferson a bit better as well. The man knew a lot about the college and the surrounding spots to visit, having been here a year himself. John had heard of the man before, he comes from one of the wealthiest families in America after all, but he’d never actually had a conversation with him. He was hard to put into words. A little arrogant, a little cocky, a bit much for Laurens taste when it came to friends. But overall, he didn’t seem like a malicious guy. Or maybe Laurens had just gotten on his good side.

His evening of forming friendships however, had come to an abrupt end as soon as he entered the hostile aura of his own bedroom. He could still feel the tension radiating from Hamilton through the bathroom door.

John’s halfway through booting up his laptop and typing out an update to his discord friends when Alex storms back into the room. He’s dressed in a worn t-shirt and some pajama bottoms and as soon as Laurens registers he’s looking at Alex, he quickly diverts his attention back to the text. He’s content to ignore the other man for the rest of the night.

Alex grabs his own laptop to work on but decides to sit on his bed instead. He feels more secure with his back against the wall and John in his peripheral vision. Not that it matters much because as soon as Alex gets typing up a new speech he’s working on for one of the opening topics for the first meeting of the debating club, the world around him melts away.

It gets to about one in the morning before John’s tired eyes can’t keep up with his own typing. Unknown to the two men, they were both working on a speech for the debating meet. But after the last two or so hours of research and work, the words on John’s screen have started to swap and twist and blur as they always ended up doing. He knows he won’t get anything more done tonight.

He leaves to use the bathroom and Alex doesn’t even twitch in acknowledgement. Whatever he was working on. He seems enraptured by it. John washes and strips down to his boxes. He feels a slight moment of awkwardness about sleeping like this around someone who in a day has become an enemy to him, but he was used to sleeping like this. He wasn’t about to give up his comfort for this jerk.

Alex is startled out of his concluding paragraph by a click going off beside him. It takes his tunnel-vision mind a moment to register it’s the sound of a lamp being turned off. He glances to the side and realises Lauren’s had gotten into bed and is laying with his back to Alex.

He hadn’t said anything about Alex having his own light on, or the loud clicking sounds Alex is making from typing as quickly as he does on his laptop. Maybe it was pride or something, but Alex had a feeling Laurens would rather lie there for hours than ask Alex to knock it off.

A grin spreads across Hamilton’s face at the thought. If he was going to win over administration and get his roommate swapped, he’d need Laurens to be as desperate to move out as Hamilton was to see him leave. What better place to start than making it difficult for the man to sleep?

As Hamilton writes up the end of his essay, he clicks open a new tab. He had been planning to just go to sleep but now with a goal set in front of him, he starts writing a second debate at full throttle. His hands not pausing in their slaughter against his loud and clicking keyboard.

Chapter Text

John wasn’t sure how he made it through orientation week.

It should have been fine. It was a week he spent exploring the campus with Burr, Madison and Jefferson. They narrowed down the best places to eat, the best places to hang out and the quietest spots to study in. It would have been the best-case scenario start of the college year for John, if he just hadn’t been so goddamn tired throughout it.

Night in his too small dorm had become hell on earth. John had thought himself to be quite the night owl, but that was before he’d met Alexander Hamilton. Hamilton refused to switch off any earlier than three in the morning. His personal best was 5:30am, light had started peaking through the curtains at that stage!

He’s nearly certain at his point that Hamilton is actually nocturnal. If John has to listen to the clicking of the man’s keyboard one more night, he knows he’ll go insane. Or at the very least, he’ll toss his roommates laptop out the window.

“It’s unbearable Burr! I can’t even block it out. It’s so sporadic, so insistent and loud and the noise itself is the very essence of how annoying Hamilton is.” John lets out all his pent-up frustration at his friend as they head to their first class of the college year. The class being psychology.

The class was apparently very easy to pass, but extremely hard to get top honours in. The lecturer was meant to be incredible but hard to impress. The lecturer expected to be blown away by a student before they’d reward them high marks.

John could already feel the uphill battle for top of the class beginning. He was determined to make a good first impression today with the lecturer. He mightn’t know much about the subject, but according to most lawyers, psychology could be the key to becoming one of the top lawyers in America. To know how the mind of not only the person you’re defending works, but also how the minds of the jury works, is meant to be crucial to winning the tougher cases.

“You could just ask him to switch off” Burr reminds him, as they turn across a green that lies just outside the lecture hall that their lecture will be in.

John scoffs before responding “Yeah that’s just what he wants. To know he’s getting under my skin. No, I won’t give him the satis-” the last word is lost as John breaks into a yawn.

Burr gives him a very pointed look in response, Laurens can only scowl half-heartedly back.

“I am not backing down”

“Pride is a dangerous thing.” Aaron comments, “So is sleep deprivation”

“Is Hamilton still keeping your ass up?” As usual Jefferson bounces into step beside them, his presence only being noticed by him jumping into the conversation. “Man, I wouldn’t have put up with this shit if he had been my roommate”

“What are you even doing this side of campus Thomas. You don’t take any lectures in this hall” Burr questions, as always he masterfully steers the conversation away from the heated debate it was about to become.

“Oh, I couldn’t miss out on George’s first lecture. The look on your faces should be quality entertainment.” Laurens wasn’t sure how he felt about the excited look etched across Jefferson’s face.

“Is he that bad?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Bad? Nah, he’s more eccentric than anything. Not really a man you expect to see in academia”

As Thomas starts to rant about the workload this lecturer dishes out, Laurens spots Hamilton and Lafayette heading towards the entrance of the building. He’d sort of forgotten his roommate would be in a lot of the same classes as John. Hopefully Alexander wouldn’t be as talkative in class as he was… well practically everywhere else.

The trio make it through the doors maybe thirty seconds behind the other two, John notices the pair head to the front seats near the right side of the room. So, when Burr asks where they want to sit, Laurens makes a bee line for the left-hand side, a hand full of seats from the front.

The room slowly begins to fill up as students trickle in from the numerous entrances to the lecture hall. The hall was large, but it wasn’t one of the biggest on campus. It didn’t have a balcony or anything extravagant like some of the ones John had been in for his orientation briefs. The room probably had the capacity to fill 300-400 people and it was broken into a right side, middle and left side. With most of the population of the room being seated in the middle.

At first students seem to flock either to the very back rows, or for the more eager ones, the very front. It takes until the lecture is only minutes from starting before the middle starts to fill out. This is also when Madison shows up and takes the last free seat on their row beside Jefferson. By the time the grey-haired lecturer enters through a door behind the lecture podium, the room is packed and buzzing with noise.

The sounds of chatter, zipping bags and clicking laptops all cease however, as soon as the man clears his throat noisily through the mic on the podium.

“Welcome students, to PSCH1100, or as most of you will refer to is as, psychology. I’ll be your lecturer for this semester, you may refer to me as George or Mr Frederick.” The strong British accent is certainly a surprise to Laurens, but the accent is easily out shadowed by the nervous mannerisms and crazy eyes this lecturer was making. It looks to John as though the man had downed one too many coffees before starting this lecture.

George goes on to explain the concepts they’ll be studying, the case studies they’ll look at and how their credits will be allocated for the module. Most of the grade would be made up of online tests that will need to be done bi-weekly, a Christmas multiple choice question exam they’ll have to do and an essay project that will have to be completed in pairs. Laurens and Burr reflexively glance at each other as they hear that news, at least he’ll have a partner covered.

Most of the lecture passes by without incident. George is simply breaking down the core of what they’ll be studying with relatively boring power point slides and uninteresting diagrams. It’s not until there’s only about ten minutes left that the lecturer decides to open the room to a question.

“One of most important things in life is impressions. How our minds relate information on how someone looks, what they do and where they come from and then forms an opinion on that person. So, my question to you bright eyed starting college students, what is the psychology behind an impression? How should we judge someone off basic information and how long should an impression last as we get to know a person?” He flourishes the end of his question with a wave of his hands, indicating for the students in the room to speak up.

At first, it’s met with silence, Laurens can feel the nervous energy of a room where some people want to answer but feel constrained by social means to not say anything. John wanted to answer, but he was finding the question difficult to break down. He had lots of opinions on first impressions, especially after his own first impression with Hamilton less than a week ago. He just didn’t know where to begin.

“C’mon now gen Z, don’t be so shy” The lecturer almost mocks the room for their silence. Just as Laurens can feel his hand twitch to rise up, he notices someone stand up in his peripheral vision.

“First impressions are unavoidable sir, it’s not just a question of how should we judge people, it’s a question of how do we? Studies have already been done that prove our brains have the ability to judge someone in less than one tenth of a second. So, a first impression really is inevitable. It’s breaking down what we are judging them for in that one tenth of a second that’s really important. In that short amount of time, it’s not their job, personality or background we’re noticing. It’s their skin colour; their attractiveness; their gender; even the colour of their eyes, that’s what we’re noticing. Then, first impressions become a lot less about what we’re judging and more about what we’ve been brought up to believe about these features. A racist will always get a similar impression of someone with dark skin, as will a sexist with a person’s sex and gender. Most of those people won’t even believe they have a choice with that impression, it’ll already have been ingrained in them. After that it becomes a matter of backgrounds and compatibility. A wealthy person may judge someone if they say their job is as a cleaner, thinking less of them, whereas an unemployed person might find it extremely impressive the cleaner even has a job. That’s when impressions become about perspective and one’s own experience.” John finds himself annoyingly impressed with the level of confidence radiating off Hamilton as he speaks. The man doesn’t even seem to take a breath as he hammers out his words and gets his points across.

George is giving him an impressed grin at this point, the lecturer is sitting on the edge of his table with his legs crossed, he’s fully leaning forward at this point, beaming at Hamilton.

“An interesting and passionate point Mr-”

“Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton”

“An interesting and passionate point Mr Alexander Hamilton, anyone care to refute it for the last few minutes of class? Or add to it?”

As Hamilton sits down looking smug across the room, John feels himself stand before he’s even planned the first sentence of his response.

“I have to disagree sir, there’s a lot more to a first impression than first sight of someone. Sure, we can argue we have an idea of someone based on how they look in the first second we see them, but that’s nothing more than relating a vision of someone with information we already have. We might like someone because their smile reminds us of a loved one or hate someone because they have the same hairstyle as someone we despise, but that’s a moment of thought, rather than a full-fledged impression. A first impression is more than a single thought, many people who have studied this topic claim we make more than one first impression within the first minute of meeting a person. To go off Mr Hamilton’s example, a racist might judge someone based off their skin colour or accent, but if that person they’re judging is a doctor that’s just after saving their life, then their first impression of them might be over shadowed by that heroism and race can be forgotten. Their first impression could be a positive one. There’s more to people than meets the eye and even people set up by different backgrounds and experiences to hate one another, can end up with good impressions of one another, depending on the circumstances of their meeting.”

John finds himself on the receiving end up a fiery glare from his roommate, who had stood up once again during John’s speech. Their lecturer seems delighted by the discourse in the class and is flicking his head from Laurens to Hamilton during John’s rant.

“So, your argument then is, all someone needs to do to make a good first impression is to save someone’s life? Is that meant to be the cure for prejudice, racism and sexism then?” Alexander questions him, not giving the lecturer time to react to John’s comments.

“I never said it cured anything, I was simply using an exaggerated scenario to refute your own particular example and show how your approach to a first impression isn’t a full proof ideology that can be stuck on everyone and their experiences” John shoots back, noticing the faces of the student between Hamilton and himself were a mixture of joy, shock and a fumbling for phones to record the moment.
“And what ‘particular example’ would that be? Do you mean me referring to the immeasurable accounts of racism found in nearly every job interview?”

“Sorry maybe I missed that example when you were ranting without pause, I was more referring to the rich and poor example you gave. As if people in different income jobs always judge each other so harshly. Also, it’s funny to me how you take the well sung opinion that the rich will immediately look down on someone earning less than them. What about those who work low income jobs that curse and rant about people who worked their asses off, whether it was through a college degree or through being an entrepreneur and is now someone they think they get to criticise because they’re jealous how other people outworked them in life and now have nicer things”

Jefferson was almost flying out of his seat as he hollered out a low ‘oooh’ that seemed to echo around the room as multiple students started breaking out into chatter and commenting on the scene in front of them. Madison has to hold his friend back from hopping off his seat and onto the floor. Burr was giving John a mix of an impressed and disappointed look; he wasn’t sure what it meant but he guessed he’d find out after the lecture.

Before Alex could retort back, the clench in his jaw showing he had a lot more to say on the subject, George cut across them.

“Well well, what a show on our first day ladies, gentlemen and the rest. Thank you, Mr Hamilton, thank you Mr”

“Laurens, John Laurens” John fills in for the man as he looks to him.

“Yes, thank you both of you for your display of a passionate psychology debate. We shall open up our next lecture speaking about some of the great points both you fellows made today!” With that the lecturer lets out a giddy laugh to himself as he, along with the rest of the room, begin to pack up their stuff.

“Damn John! I didn’t know you had it in you!” Jefferson is beaming as he starts playfully punching John’s shoulder and chest.

“Quite an impressive debate” Madison adds as he starts to ascend the stairs out of the hall.

“I couldn’t just sit there and listen to him sprout nonsense” John explains, not sure how to react to their compliments.

“I would have shut him up if I was actually taking this module” Jefferson comments, throwing a look over to where Lafayette and Hamilton were making their way up the parallel set of steps. Hamilton was in full ranting mode to his friend, no doubt about John.

“Burr what did you think?” Jefferson asks their silent friend as they make it into the fresh air.

“I thought you both made impressive points” Burr replies, after a moment of hesitation.

“But?” John pushes, a smile on his face. He’d noticed in the last few days that Burr could be slow to give his opinion on matters.

Burr shrugs, apparently at a loss for how to put his thoughts into words. “I’m not sure debating him was the best idea. Now he knows most of your points and can tear into you at the next lecture. If you’d let him keep ranting, you would have known all the cards up his sleeve.”

“Ohh, the silent sniper approach huh Burr? Didn’t think you were so into scheming” Jefferson taunts as he hops a step ahead of the rest of them, still buzzing from the spectacle.

“I just think sometimes it’s better to talk less and listen more”

“Burr makes a good point” Madison agrees “However, what you did in there was also a good move. You gave a room of students another perspective to view from. You planted doubt in their heads about Hamilton’s ideas. You’d make a fine politician if you’d any interest in it John”

The comment gets a snort out of Laurens “I think I’ll use my power of persuasion on juries instead of hot-headed politicians.”

Burr changes the conversation after that to where they should eat, and the group make their way to a nearby café for some lunch.

----------------------------

“-and then he has the nerve to-”

“Alright, okay I get it. Shit went down in psychology today.” Mulligans interrupts Hamilton, waving his half-eaten burger at him “Now can I enjoy the rest of my burger without another rant from you about Laurens”

“If you’d been there, you’d be just as worked up!” Alex defends, crossing his arms and pouting on the other side of the table.

Lafayette lets out a low hum of approval as he swallows some fries “He came across as trés entitled.”

Alex nods his head in affirmation as Hercules looks about ready to leave the pair to their groaning.

“Just rip into him the next day and for the moment be done with it.” Hercules begs, in a last attempt to move the conversation on.

“Oh, I plan on it” Hamilton smirks, smiling for the first time since he sat down for lunch.

“You know, if you let the man sleep as well, he mightn’t be as irritable.” Mulligans points out as he sips at his soda.

“What, and ruin my plan to have him begging to leave our room? Not a chance. I have him on the ropes, give him a week tops and he’ll be sleep deprived enough to fight the clerk in the administration building” Alex argues.

Alex's late-night work had been draining his own internal battery and he could feel the candle burning at both ends as he over worked himself to almost a point of madness. But it would all be worth it once Laurens was rooming with some other sorry sucker.

“So, what is the plan for tonight gentlemen? Hercules and I have lectures until four, Hamilton you’ll be done at five. I say we do something special to celebrate out first proper day of college” Lafayette says to his two friends, swiftly changing the topic.

“Special? Sure, but no more drinking. Not after Saturday night. I do not want a hangover on the second day” Hercules complains, shoveling fries into his mouth.

“You didn’t have to drink that much” Hamilton laughs, he’d only had two or three drinks himself. He was way too focused on doing well in college right now and holding onto his scholarship to relax enough to get drunk.

“Yes mon ami, you were quite intoxicated” Lafayette teases.

“As if you’re were much better!” Hercules retorts, “I remember enough of the night to remember lugging your ass back to our room”

Lafayette sputters indignantly. “Well you remember wrong; it was I who carried you home”

They both turn their head to the now cackling Hamilton.

“What’s so funny Hams?”

“Oui, please enlighten us”

“You two” Hamilton manages to get out between bouts of laughter “You’re both right. You carried each other back to the room, all handsy and cosy like”

The pairs eyes both widen as a blush creeps across both their faces.

“Pas moyen!”

“As if!”

Hamilton just shakes his head at the now obviously not looking at each other pair. Damn his friends were clueless.

“Whatever you guys say. Anyways, I am heading off to my next lecture. Text into the group chat any plans you two lover boys come up with” He has to focus to dodge the fries that are tossed at him as he makes a hasty escape. He’d pushed some buttons there. Still maybe it’ll help those two get a clue.

Chapter Text

“He’s doing it on purpose?” Laurens is pretty sure he’s seeing red right now. His hands have curled into quivering fists by his sides as he does his best to contain his anger.

“I’m afraid so. He was bragging about it to his friends over at the burger stop” Madison informs him.

Madison had been standing in line to get some fries to go when he heard Hamilton and his gang talking about Hamilton keeping Laurens up. He’d just gotten there in time to hear that part of their conversation.

“I’m going to kill him” John decides, standing up from his half-eaten panini.

“I’ll help” Jefferson declares, hopping to his feet with a sly grin on his face.

“Gentlemen calm down” Burr pleas, pushing away his finished meal. “You’re hardly going to fight the guy. Do you both want to be suspended, or worse, expelled from this place?”

John grimaces at the thought. His dad would not only kill him, but the media would definitely catch wind of it. He’d be followed around by paparazzi for weeks.

“I’m not going to actually touch him. Just confront him on it” John defends, although he’d easily punch the bastard if he was goaded enough.

“Sure” Burr says through an almost too sincere smile. “Although he could just go on the defensive and play it off as if you’re paranoid. It’s his word versus Madison’s.”

“Are you calling Madison a liar?” Jefferson challenges, flopping back into his seat with crossed arms.

“Of course not. But Hamilton will.” Burr explains.

“Well what do you propose John does then?” Madison enquires.

“Now that you know it’s on purpose, you can always hit back with your own… retaliation” Burr suggests, a determined glint in his eye.

“Now you’re talking” Jefferson beams, leaning his elbows on the table and leaning himself across it. “Payback is a bitch”

John smirks at his friends and their antics. It warms him to know he’s got these guys at his back. Now time for some sweet revenge on his roommate.

---------------------------------------------

Hamilton hums softly under his breath as he makes it up the winding staircase and onto the landing of his floor. It’s nearly midnight now and he can feel the heaviness of fatigue on his feet as he trudges down the corridor.

He’d spent his evening over in one of the other dormitory buildings with the Schuyler sisters and his friends. Lafayette and Hercules wave him off at the second floor where their room is, and he makes the rest of the journey alone.

He feels the usual tendril of reluctance tighten in his stomach as he opens his dorm door. He really didn’t want to face John, didn’t want to have to look at the man after their head to head today in class.

John might have made some decent points, but he completed ignored the severity of the racist and sexist issues in most first impressions. How someone can be labelled as useless; a criminal, or many other worse things based on those two aspects of a person.

Of course, someone as privileged and brainwashed as Laurens would never be able to empathise with such ideals. The man had probably never had to so much as lift a finger to get what he wanted in life.

It’s perhaps that last thought crossing Alexanders mind that leads him to shove the door open with a bit more force than intended. It hits off his wardrobe with an audible bang. He looks around the room to see if he startled his roommate but to Hamilton’s surprise, the room is empty.

His eyes flick over to check the bathroom, but the door is open and the light inside it is turned off. Looks like Laurens was having a night out himself.

Despite wanting nothing more than to get some sleep, Alexander decides to start writing up an essay he’d been given today for his English module and gets himself comfortable on his bed.

He notices the time again around one in the morning. As usual he’d gotten completely lost in his work and he looks around the room a bit dazed, only to realise that John hadn’t returned yet.

Probably found some girl to hook up with and went off somewhere with her. Not unexpected going off John’s aura of confidence, but the thought leaves a bitter taste in Alex’s mouth. Maybe he’s just stressed his roommate will bring her back to their room.

Wherever he is, come 1am Hamilton decides John wasn’t going to be sleeping in their room tonight and decides he’d let himself get a good night’s rest for once. He drifts off to sleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow.

At first, he’s disorientated as he wakes up. Mainly because the room was still dark. There was no light creeping through the curtains and yet his eyes were forcing themselves to look around the room. A low beeping can be heard…somewhere. Where exactly? Hamilton isn’t sure. But it’s what woke him.

He groggily reaches for his phone to turn off whatever alarm he’d messed up when he set one. Except there’s no alarm going off on his phone. His lock screen is void of any notification and all he can see is the large print clock telling him it’s half two in the morning. He flicks his head around to try catch where the sound is coming from only to realise whatever it is has stopped.

He shakes his head in confusion but guesses the sound could have been coming from another room just a wall over. Maybe someone else had messed up their alarm? Either way, Alexander is back asleep within the next two minutes.

This time he’s woken up not even ten minutes later, at ten to three, to the same beeping. This cycle continues two more times until it’s half three in the morning.

He throws the blanket back off himself and begins scouring the room for any light source that might indicate where the noise was coming from. As usual, after less than a minute the irritating sound stops.

This time though Hamilton takes a weary seat on his desk chair and keeps his ears pricked for any noise. After fourteen minutes the sound goes off again. It’s coming from Laurens side of the room.

He takes a moment to look around and press his ear against the desk before he realises it’s coming from John’s wardrobe. He tries to open it to see what’s making the noise, only to realise the handles on the wardrobes, which are two silver handles that are shaped like hallow boxes, have a bike lock wrapped through them.

Hamilton tried for several minutes to fiddle with the lock but quickly realised there was no way for him to open it. The room goes silent again and Alex starts to think of ways he could break the lock off.

That’s when he realises, that whatever is going on, Laurens purposely made this difficult for him to get to. Who on earth puts a bike lock on their wardrobe doors? The bastard put the alarm in them to fuck with him. He must have figured out what Alexander was doing.

Well just because that bastard is too much of a coward to confront Alexander about his attempts to rid his dorm of Laurens, doesn’t mean Alexander is.

He grabs his key from his desk, slips on some sweatpants so he’s more decently dressed, and marches out of his room. The hallway is dark bar some light shining from the staircase that seems to stay on all night. All the rooms on the floor are silent. Everyone was either fast asleep or still partying somewhere. Alexander moves almost silently in his bare feet as he pads down the hallway

He heads to Burr’s room first. There’re only two rooms in the building Laurens is likely to be in, if he is in the building that is.

He knocks loudly on the door, not caring at this point if he wakes anyone innocent up. After a few seconds of silence, a moment of thumping feet across carpet and a quiet “Who the fuck is knocking?”, a disgruntled Burr in boxers opens the door looking confused.

Damn, Burr mightn’t be his type, but Alex can appreciate the sculpted man before him… and no, no, absolutely not the time to drool over someone.

“Where’s Laurens” Hamilton questions, cutting straight to the chase.

Burr leans tiredly against the doorframe and raises an eyebrow in response.

“I don’t know Alexander, isn’t he your roommate?”

“Oh, cut the crap Burr. He’s in there isn’t he” Hamilton tries to peek over Burr’s shoulder but all he spots in the room is Burr’s actual roommate.

“He’s not actually” Burr smirks, swinging his door smugly open to show Hamilton the empty floor. “If anyone should be cutting the crap, don’t you think it should be you?”

Before Alex can bite back with a retort, Burr shuts the door in his face. Well that narrows down the number of places to one.

Hamilton turns on his heels and makes a bee line to the staircase. Madison and Jefferson roomed on the second floor, just around the corner from Lafayette and Mulligans.

His hand is banging on the door within a minute and he waits, tapping his foot on the carpeted floor beneath him as the door swings open.

A grinning Jefferson opens the door and half steps out of the room, keeping the door mostly shut behind him.

“Alexander, a knock on my door this late? Careful, wouldn’t want any of our neighbours to think you came here to ravish me”

Hamilton is impressed he doesn’t throw a punch at the guy. Another conservative making a homophobic joke. Hilarious.

“Where’s Laurens”

“Who?” Jefferson says, blinking his eyelashes in an exaggerated matter as he badly attempts to play dumb.

“John, John Laurens. You know the asshole you hang out with, about way high?” Hamilton gestures to a height slightly above his head.

“Ah, that Laurens. Yes, I know him well! He’s not here.” At the end of his sentence Jefferson’s grinning face falls and he goes from grinning at Alexander to glaring.

One look at Jefferson’s tense body language and the fact that the much taller man was using his larger body to block the door tells Alexander otherwise.

“Sure he’s not. Is that why you’re going all bodyguard on the door?” Hamilton quizzes, waiting for the right moment to launch past the man.

“Madison sleeps naked, wouldn’t want his decency to be ruined with your wandering eyes”

The comment hits Hamilton like a slap, now he’s pissed. Just because he was also interested in men he now has to deal with all this over the top bullshit from Laurens and his southern pals.

“What? Wary to share your boyfriend Thomas?” The comment shocks Jefferson enough for Hamilton to barrel past him and leave him spluttering in the doorway. A very disgruntled Laurens turns from where he had been sleeping on his side in a sleeping bag on the floor and groans as he notices Hamilton’s silhouette in the doorway.

“Get out of my room” Jefferson cries at the same moment that Laurens sits up with a tired but smug grin on his face.

“What, something keeping you up Hamilton? Have to come mess with other people’s rooms now too?”

Alexander wouldn’t think himself an overly aggressive person, but he was more than willing to punch Laurens at this moment if it wiped the look off his face.

“Open your fucking bike lock” Alex seethes through gritted teeth.

“Or what?” John yawns, standing up and towering the stupid two inches above Alex. He can now feel Jefferson’s presence on his back just a foot away. “Don’t like a taste of your own medicine Hamilton? Maybe don’t talk about your scheming plans in public next time?”

Shit, someone must have overheard Alex today at the burger stop when he was boasting to Lafayette and Mulligans. Sometimes he maybe did speak a bit too much.

“You turn that alarm off and I’ll knock it off” Hamilton concedes. He was ready to admit he’d been called out and bested.

“Sounds like a compromise. Yet, I’m the one winning tonight” Laurens smirks, Jefferson lets out a chuckle in the background as Madison groans for everyone to go the fuck to sleep.

“Why don’t you toddle back to bed Alex? You’re keeping us all up.” John speaks to him like Alex is some kind of child, even using his first name for once. Hamilton isn’t expecting this level of audacity from John.

“I’m not leaving until you shut that shit up” Alex warns, crossing his arms and leveling his strongest glare at the jaw locked Laurens.

It probably wasn’t the smartest move to be this close to John when both looked ready to take a swing. Alexander might have some history with rough housing with people and living in a dangerous neighbourhood where you had to be ready for someone to pounce on you at all times.

But John had him clearly beat in height and in build. As painful as it was for Hamilton to admit, John would be able to pack a punch. He was an exercise maniac most evenings in their room and his toned arms, shoulders and six pack clearly demonstrated that.

Just as Hamilton thinks the scene might turn into either a boxing ring or an awkward standoff, he feels two hands grab the back of his t-shirt and with unexpected strength he is ripped backwards. The surprise manoeuvre is enough to send him toppling backwards and he lands hard on his ass out in hall.

“Night Alexander” Jefferson beams as he shuts the door in his face, the sly fucker had been the one to man handle him. The last thing he sees over Jefferson’s shoulder is a laughing Laurens going for a high five with the man. What a prick.

He picks himself up off the floors and steadily decides he is not going back to his room with that disgusting alarm still there. Instead he makes his way around the corner and knocks on the boy’s room.

After a few attempts Mulligans opens the door.

“Alex what’s wrong? What the hell are you-?” He doesn’t give his friend time to wake up or process that Alex looks livid. He just brushes past him muttering in an annoyed voice.

“I’m sleeping here tonight”

He pulls back the blanket on Lafayette’s bed and gently pushes his somewhat half-brother over. This wasn’t the first time he’d shared a bed with the French man.

“Another nightmare mon petit lion?” Lafayette mumbles, clearly only on the brink of consciousness as he makes room for Alex and gently drops an arm over the smaller man’s side.

Mulligans drops back into his bed but gives a wary glance at the other two. Almost as if he was unsure if he should try comfort Alex or not.

Mulligans has been Lafayette’s and Alex’s friend since their final year of high school, and they’d all been excited to be going to the same college together. Still, sometimes Alex forgets that Lafayette and himself lived together for three years. There is some things that comes second nature to the pair that can leave Mulligan feeling like he is in the deep end of something he’s unfamiliar with.

“No Laf. I’ll explain everything in the morning” He makes sure to catch Mulligans gaze as he says that. He wants to make it clear that they’ll both be included in that. Mulligan just gives him an anxious nod as he lays his head back down on the pillow to try sleep.

Lafayette responds by mumbling something incoherent into the back of Alex’s neck as his friend nuzzles into Alex’s back and promptly falls asleep gently clutching onto Alex.

The contact is refreshing and warm and it cools off Hamilton’s rage a little as he tries to settle his mind and get some sleep. He has plenty ideas for revenge already forming in his mind. He just needs to wait until the morning when he has more energy to start actually piecing them together.

Laurens might have won the battle of sleep tonight. But Alexander Hamilton was going to win the war.

Chapter Text

After the alarm clock incident, tension between the roommates only worsened. It only takes a week for their rivalry to become infamous around the dorms. Every day is met with a held breath as the pair both try and work out what scheme the other has been up to.

Most of schemes are childish and cliché, but still very effective when it comes to pissing one other off. Take for example, the morning after the alarm clock event, Hamilton made sure to get up early and sneak back into their room.

He took his own bike lock out of his bag, unlike some rich jerks he had to cycle to get places, and he looped it through Laurens wardrobe handles, securely locking it. Now the asshole wouldn’t be able to get any of his shit without finding a way to break the lock first, or if he was to get the key. Which Hamilton pocketed smugly in his jacket.

To say John was not amused, was an understatement. Hamilton had been wise enough to make himself scarce so once John had figured out what his roommate had done, his only option was to find a way to break the damn thing. Which had led to a thirty-minute search, dressed in the previous day’s rumpled outfit, to find a janitor who had the tools to snap the bike lock in half.

He ended up being twenty minutes late to his corporate law lecture. What added insult to injury was the satisfied look Hamilton gave him across the lecture hall when he saw John tip toe in with a scowl plastered on his face.

Lauren’s revenge for the prank had taken two days to both come up with and orchestrate. He’d been busy settling into lectures and he’d attended his first creative drawing class during that time.

He’d been dismayed to notice Lafayette had also decided to join the club, but bar the odd glare at one another, they both kept to themselves. John had managed to get friendly with two girls that went to the class and the three of them set up their stations in a distant corner to Lafayette.

John’s revenge also required access to Hamilton’s laptop. That particular hurdle was bypassed when Alex was thoughtless enough to leave his laptop unlocked on his desk when he decided to go shower before bed. It only took John two minutes of fiddling through settings to find what he wanted.

All he had to do then was crawl innocently into bed. Luckily, Hamilton was not able to read Spanish and he spent ten minutes cursing at John as he tried to figure out how to switch his computer’s main language back to English. John held in most of his laughter, although hearing Hamilton listening to a YouTube video on how to fix it brought him pretty close to hysterics.

The pranks went back and forth for the first two weeks of college without much confrontation. They cursed and yelled at one another from time to time but neither of them went far enough to cause the other person to actually bow out or beg for it to be over. Their friends though could see the blowout coming.

“John, not that I’m saying the brat doesn’t deserve it, but aren’t you getting a bit tired with all the prank planning; all the set up and all the shit you’ve had thrown at you?” Jefferson questions John. He asks him this after John shows up late for lunch with the usual crew. John had gotten delayed after Hamilton replaced his shampoo with slime and John had spent an extra fifteen minutes in the shower trying to get the crap out.

“I can’t let him win” John defends, unwrapping the pre-made sandwich he’d picked up by the counter.

“Would you call the last two weeks a win for you?” Burr throws back, sipping on his usual latte coffee.

John thinks back to how on edge he’s been since the prank war with Hamilton had begun. He’ll admit he’d rather not have to worry or stress about what he’ll find messed with next. But the adrenaline he got from pulling off his own pranks, accompanied with Hamilton’s fury… that made it worth it.

“I’ve had my wins.” John argues.

“and your losses.” Madison cuts in.

If Madison is joining in with ganging up against John, it probably meant the situation was getting out of hand.

“Look, he’s not going to keep this up all semester. We’re both too busy for that. I just need to make sure I get the final word.” Laurens explains. If only the rest could understand how much Alex got under his skin, how annoying he was to room with.

After being called out for keeping John up, Alex had started to go to bed earlier. Although John suspects that had more to do with the dark circles under Hamilton’s own eyes. Also, earlier was a word he’d only use in the context of Hamilton. The man still didn’t switch off for bed until near one in the morning. Which wouldn’t be so late if the pair didn’t usually have class at nine the next day.

Hamilton was also a slob. He left dirty clothes in a pile in front of his wardrobe for nearly the full first two weeks they were rooming. Only washing them when he realised he had run out of clean ones to wear.

His desk was always a mess of empty coffee cups, half eaten takeout and an assortment of papers; notepads and books. Whenever the clutter got too bad there, he’d move some of it to his bedside locker.

Successfully stinking up the room to a point where John had to keep a window open, and eventually he’d have to snap at Alex to clean some of it up.

“You better make your final word something big then. Something that either gets him moving out of the dorms completely, or just flat out ignoring you for the rest of semester” Jefferson comments. His eyes get distant as he speaks, as though various ideas of gags and tricks were running through his head.

“Both outcomes sound pretty good to me” John mutters, biting into his food as his friends move on to speaking about debate club.

The first two weeks had just been workshops on how to debate properly, the rules of the different competitions and demonstrations by the veterans, Jefferson and Angelica to name a few. Starting next week though, they’d start doing open debates. Jefferson also gave them the insider knowledge that the third and fourth years that run the club would be keeping an eye out for students they could pick for their competitive teams.

Jefferson explains that there’s a few competitions on throughout both semesters and that they usually build the teams to suit the competitions. Some teams require the members to do lots of research for the debate and to do lots of building and constructing of bomb proof arguments. Whereas other competitions only revealed the topic on the day, minutes before the debate started. Teams going to those events had to be quick on their feet and have strong opinions on numerous topics.

Whichever team they thought him best for, John was determined to make a name for himself and to compete for the college. He felt he had a good chance with a guy like Jefferson helping him out.

------------------------

“Aren’t you getting sick of these games yet mon petit lion?” Lafayette groans into his arms as he lays half sprawled across the table.

Alex doesn’t answer him at first as his hand dances across a half-written page, his pen scrawling hasty sentences and wobbly sketches as he formulates his next attack on Laurens.

“Tired of what?” He asks, after he takes the moment of silence to mean that he’d been the one asked a question.

“Obsessing over John Laurens” Mulligan answers, his gaze focused on the jeans he was repairing for Eliza. She’s almost cried with happiness when he’d offered to stitch up the inner lining when they ripped on her the day before.

“I’m not obsessing. I’m plotting” Hamilton corrects his friends as he leans back to stare at his blueprints.

“Outside of schoolwork, clubs and the odd bout of social behaviour, your every waking moment is literally spent scheming or complaining about this guy. He’s taking over your life” Mulligan presses on, his eyes darting upwards to catch Alex’s reaction.

Hamilton opens his mouth to argue, to point out just how wrong his friends are to badger him about this. But he can’t help but see where they’re coming from.

Of course, they just don’t understand. They only have to see Lauren’s annoying face during the day. When he’s across lecture halls, slouching in the far corner of the room at clubs they attend with him, or they see him briefly as he passes them in the hallways on campus. Alex has to spend hours with the guy in a confined small room.

He was an annoying roommate too. Always pestering him about the smallest messes or bits of rubbish. As if Alex could focus on messes around him when he’s trying to write masterpieces for his assignments. Laurens just didn’t get what it meant to have to work hard.

Also, there was plenty Alex could give out to Laurens about if he had the energy. The hair clogs in the shower, the nauseating scent of his cologne he layered on himself in the morning or the fact he would spend hours of the week exercising in their room, stinking up the small area with the stench of his sweat.

No. The others couldn’t begin to understand what Alex had to go through with his roommate. These pranks were the only way to get Laurens away from Alex and out of his immediate life.

“One more” Alex promises, grinning at the plan in front of him “If this doesn’t send him running to administration to complain, I don’t know what will.”

He’s so enthralled with his own work he doesn’t notice the concerned glance his friends share. They both seemed to be thinking the same thing.

Dear God don’t let him go too far with this.

--------------------------------

Hamilton himself was having similar thoughts the next day on his way to his dorm. He had a plan. A scheme to top all the one’s he’d thrown at John thus far. One that would piss Laurens off beyond belief. The only problem is, what if he went so far that he ended up in actual trouble? Like losing his scholarship trouble. He didn’t think Laurens was worth that risk in the slightest.

He’s on his way back from his weekly meeting with the Pride Society, the LGBTQ+ club he had joined orientation week. He’d signed himself up for the committee as their protest officer. It was his job to keep up to date with local protests, local issues and global ones too. He would plan protests for the society to back and take part in, as well as attending each of them himself.

On top of that, he’d already been to two of the weekly events held by the society. One had been a simple speed friending event that he’d ended up forgetting half the people’s names at. The other event they’d run had been a games night, full of quizzes and board games. The events weren’t the best organised or anything special. But the atmosphere in the room, the feeling of being surrounded by people who understood, who never question you, that feeling left him giddy after each event.

Maybe it was the height of the giddiness that lead him to fall so low. He stops at the door of his dorm, his hand raised above the door handle. But he doesn’t open it. For a moment, he can’t. His body has frozen, his gaze glued on the whiteboard that’s drilled onto their door.

The whiteboards on the dorm doors were an accident waiting to happen. Call outs and insults were bound to appear on everyone’s. Yet for the most part, most roommates found them useful. People used them to joke with friends in other rooms, to leave up reminders, to tell each other where the other was or sometimes, to tell the other person they had company over.

So far, Hamilton and Laurens board had always been blank. They’d never in a million years write a message to one another. Their friends would never leave a message either, aware the other’s worse enemy could always lay their eyes on it.

Tonight though, there is something written across the board in black marker.

Alexander Faggiton

and in smaller print underneath it

There’s a million men I haven’t done. Ladies don’t wait.

Alex has no idea how long the message has been there. He hasn’t been back to the room since this morning. He’d been too busy today. Who saw it? How many people laughed? How many people was he outed to? Not that he cared, not really. He didn’t hide it. He was on the committee for Pride after all.

But this felt wrong. This wasn’t him telling someone, this wasn’t someone seeing him with the society, this was people finding out through a sick joke. It took him a moment to compose himself. To relax his body again. He could feel eyes on him, but when he looked around the corridor was empty. He felt paranoid now.

He pulls his sleeve down over his hand and carefully wipes the message off the board. He doesn’t stop until every last smudge of black ink is removed. His grey shirt has a bit of a stain on its sleeve now, hopefully it’ll just wash out.

Who would have done this though? The question only comes to him once he’s calmed down enough to breathe normally again. The constriction on his chest lessens as he glares at the blank whiteboard.

Laurens face flashes through his mind. Could this have been his next prank? His next scheme to piss Alex off. Did the fucker actually go this far with their hatred for one another. Far enough to start dropping words like faggot at him.

He wouldn’t put it past him. Why would he? A southern conservative fucker. Probably thought he was real funny, real original. Probably didn’t even know how much the word stung, how much it hurt. How much emotion and feeling could be packed behind a single word.

Alex swings the door open, crashing it against his wardrobe as he marches into the room. He doesn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry.

It doesn’t help that when he enters Laurens is lounging on his bed. He’s pretending to read some notes, but even from here Alex can hear the mumbling of some podcast blasting in his roommate’s ears.

His noise cancelling headphones sit on his sly head.

They’re so effective in fact that Lauren’s isn’t even aware Alex has entered the room until the shorter man rips the headphones off his head.

“What the fuck?” John jumps, his hand launching up to grab at the headphones, only to have Alex pull them back out of his reach. John gives Alex his best unimpressed glare.

“Can I help you with something?”

“Did you do it?” Alex questions, his tone dangerously low.

“You’re going to have to be more specific there Hamilton. I do a lot of things” Laurens shoots back. His cryptic answer bringing Alex’s blood to a boiling level.

“Cut the bullshit Laurens. You know damn well what I’m on about” Hamilton throws back, his voice raising at the word damn as he does his best to reign in his emotion. He was not going to give this asshole the satisfaction of seeing him genuinely upset.

Laurens has the audacity to grin at him then. His eyes practically gleaming up at Alex.

“You finally noticed then? Surprised it took you the day” John leans back as he speaks, pressing his back against the wall and folding his arms across his chest, looking pleased with himself.

Despite already having guessed it was his roommate, the confirmation of the crime still brings an eerie chillness to Alex’s gut. He had forgotten coming to college, what it felt like to meet someone like John Laurens. It was so easy to get wrapped up with his new accepting friends and his pride society, it was so easy to forget that bigotry, prejudice and homophobia still run rampant in this country. It was so easy to forget the feeling now resting in Alex’s gut, a feeling of disbelief; anger and frustration.

Alex throws the headphones back at John, smacking them hard against the other’s man’s chest as Laurens watches him, his smug complexion turning to one of curiosity at Hamilton’s unusual response.

“You’re a piece of filth Laurens. You’re the dirt beneath the nails of our generation and someday you’re going to see how fucked up your attitude is and it’s going to be too late. You’re going to have to look your children in the face someday and admit what you are. An asshole.”

Alex gives himself a mental pat on the back as he slams the door shut behind him on his way out. He’d managed to get through his little speech without crying. Without letting the swell of emotions sitting in his chest to burst. His voice had cracked a little on the last sentence, but no one’s perfect.

He chants that last comforting line to himself all the way to Lafayette’s and Mulligans room. His cheeks are already tear streaked by the time the door opens. His friends looked shocked at first, and then horrified as Alex tells them what happened.

He falls asleep that night squashed between Mulligans and Lafayette as the pair lull him to sleep with their conversations. They talk about anything and everything that isn’t anything to do with what Alex had to deal with tonight. Alex is pretty sure the last thing he hears his friends say as he drifts off to sleep is something about a cookie recipe.

Meanwhile, Laurens stares dumbfounded at the door that Alex had just slammed. His chest felt tight for some reason, his palms clammy. Despite everything that had happened between Hamilton and himself in the last two and a half weeks, he’d never seen the other man so genuinely upset and angry.

It was like there was a cold uncontainable fury raging behind Hamilton’s eyes. The expression brought back a platter of unpleasant memories for John. He takes a moment to shake images of his dad from his vision. The man isn’t here. John is almost twenty-one. His dad had no power over him anymore, or at least that’s what John says to comfort himself as he feels his body temperature begin to drop and the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up.

Had what he done really upset Alexander that much? He supposed it would be annoying to clean up. Especially if Alex had already sent an inappropriate text or made an awkwardly wrong phone call.

But John didn’t think mixing up the numbers on someone’s phone was that upsetting. He’d only changed a few, maybe fourteen at most. Just the common ones Alex has used a lot recently.

John waits to question Alex further on the matter, maybe even to say some type of apology. But his roommate doesn’t return. Not at midnight, not at one in the morning. By the time two rolls around Laurens has given up on waiting and is trying to sleep.

It’s not easy. The familiar prickle of insomnia taunts him from the back of his mind. He has to remind himself he’s been doing well. When Hamilton wasn’t fucking with his sleep that is.

Tonight though, the weight of guilt rests lightly on his rib cage. He feels out of place. Like he’s trying to defend himself for something he’s not even aware of. It just doesn’t add up why Alex was so angry earlier.

Eventually though John gives up on piecing it together. Hell, he doesn’t even like the guy. If Hamilton is going to have a stick up his ass about this, so be it. He should be able to take as good as he can give. John drifts off to sleep feeling better, clearer.

He owes Alexander Hamilton nothing.

Chapter Text

John was tired. He’d slept restlessly the night before, a part of him thinking Hamilton would burst into the room at some point, ranting and raving. But he never did.

John woke up alone in their room with a bitter taste in his mouth. The prank he played was not that bad. They’d done worse to one another over the last 2 weeks. He was not going to feel guilty about Hamilton overreacting. The asshole had probably tripped up the stairs or something on his way back to their room and had just been in a foul mood.

When the morning came, things didn’t get much better. The day just feels slow to John. His steps feel heavy, his motivation almost non-existent. He barely banters with Jefferson over their afternoon coffee, much to the worry of the bubbly man.

Burr has been watching him all day as well, or maybe studying is a better word.

Maybe Laurens is just sick of Hamilton. Sick of their petty war, sick of feeling anxious around his own room, and despite everything he’d gone through in the last year, he was starting to feel homesick.

His mind often wanders to his siblings when he feels himself spacing out in lectures. He calls and texts them throughout the week but it’s not the same as bugging them in their room or having them come barrelling into his. He misses their unconditional love and loyalty.

He ends up heading to his dorm earlier than usual. He usually stays out as late as possible, so he doesn’t have to spend much time around Alexander. The only times he’s been back before 8pm were on days when the words just wouldn’t stay in place in his notes and staying in the library would become redundant and painful.

Today though, he finds himself unlocking the door at 6pm. He just wants to block out the world for a while. Take a social break from constantly smiling, conversing and gauging how comfortable he was getting with his new friends.

He was just going to have a quiet night of working on some projects, prep work and his drawing project for the week.

Don’t count your chickens before they hatch Jack

His mother’s words ring in his ear as he swings his bedroom door open. His mouth falls open, his eyes scanning his side of the room in disbelief. A cauldron of dread drops into the pit of his stomach and he can feel tears of frustration burning the edges of his vision. This couldn’t be real.

All his loose belongings, be it stationary, his laptop, deodorant, his lamp, etc, are hanging, upside down, from the roof. John isn’t quite sure what’s even keeping them there. Bar his laptop which has been more carefully stuck up with duct tape. The rest seem to have some type of adhesive binding them to the roof.

It must have taken Alexander hours to pull this off. No doubt his pals had helped him out too.

Lauren’s feels his head whipping around the room, the bathroom door is open a crack, the lights off. Hamilton isn’t here. He doesn’t spot any camera’s either, even after taking a paranoid minute to search the room for one.

John can feel his breaths getting shallow as he swallows over a lump in his throat.

It’s just a prank Laurens. You can take as much as you dish out.

The sentiment does little to stop his eyes from darting from snow globe to snow globe. If any of them fall… no he can’t think like that. Even as he’s trying to be optimistic though he’s racing to his bed.

He hops up and instantly his hand reaches up to grab at the turtle one. The other ones were special, priceless to him, but this one was above and beyond important.

He cradles the head of it, his hand barely able to wrap around the orb. The green sparkles have all clotted at the top and from his angle the light from the window is shining off the green turtle figurines inside.

You like it… don’t you Jack?

He’d been speechless when she handed it to him. He thought it was too precious for his ten-year-old hands. He’d been so afraid of smashing it, cracking it, even scrapping the pristine glass on it. He’d just nodded dumbly, not noticing the anxious look on her face until after he’d been staring at it in awe for two minutes.

She’d smiled so brightly then. Her eyes scrunching up to show off her defined crows’ feet, and her dimples had been on full display. She was always at her happiest when she was bringing joy to her kids.

John doesn’t even realise he’s crying until he has to wipe a tear that was trailing down his cheek.

He hates to move away from it. He holds his breath as he moves towards the door, his gaze never leaving the snow globe. He’s terrified to leave the room, terrified to hear it smashing off the ground beneath it when he closes the door.

But he needs help. He needs to get them down without a scratch of damage. If he goes pulling and tugging at one of them, he might bring another one down by accident.

Burr isn’t in his room. Of course, it’s still early. John doesn’t want to think what might have happened if he had come home later. If one had already fallen.

He takes the stairs two at a time and it’s only when he’s ran outside that he realises he has no idea where to even start looking.

Anxiety builds in his stomach like an expanding knot and he might have broken down outside the dorms building if he didn’t remember he had Burr’s number and social medias.

He rolls his eyes at his own stupidity before unlocking his phone. One quick look on snap maps and he can see the man is somewhere in the campus library. Probably lounging in the history law section where the four of them usually spend their time studying together. It’s a particularly quiet spot that’s not blaringly bright like other sections. There’s always a good wi-fi connections too, and there’s plenty of plugs for their devices.

John would run to his friend if his knees didn’t feel like they were about to buckle. He settles for speed walking instead, diving left and right as he passes out casual walkers and hordes of students. He did his best to not make a scene, but if anyone took a proper look at him, he’d probably look a tad maniac.

He weaves in through the different campus lane ways, through trees, parks, around benches and fountains. He almost makes it to the library. If he’d been two minutes faster, he wouldn’t have bumped into them.

It just really wasn’t his day.

“John Laurens! Two weeks of doing the same course and yet we hardly seem to bump into each other”

Charles Lee is beaming. He looks like a man who’s just been told he’s won the lottery, or maybe for Lee it was that he’d just seen a puppy getting beat on. Two unknown men flank either side of him, towering over the stouter man.

“Charles” Laurens can feel his panicked face morphing into his formal grin. The glint in Lee’s eyes though are enough to tell John that the other man has noticed something is off.

“Yes well, it’s a large campus. We’re both hardly slackers either, hard to find the time to bump into people.” John knows he’s said the right thing by the way Lee’s smile stretches impossibly further. Or maybe, it’s not the right thing, maybe Charles just finds him amusing.

“Oh, certainly John. I’m sure you’ve already heard I was voted in as vice for the conservative party society” John hadn’t, he really didn’t care “So my hands have been completely full” He gestures with his arms that are carrying several books and John forces out a polite chuckle.

The other two nameless students standing by Charles sides were not helping John relax around the man. The other two men were taller than Lee, both blondes and athletic looking. No doubt the sons of some fancy lawyers or politicians that Charles’ father knew. Lee doesn’t introduce them, they don’t say anything bar laugh at Lee’s jokes, so John takes it he’d not meant to really acknowledge them.

“Any who, we’re just on the way back from a meeting with the society and you’ll be delighted to hear that some of us will be collaborating and even competing against your little debate club throughout the year.” John holds back the shudder of disgust that wracks through him at Charles dismissive tone “I do hope we get a chance to debate with one another. Completely impersonal of course! Not as if we’d argue on much without a competition to tell us which side we have to debate on”

The smirk Lee throws at him is sinister and scheming and John was wondering how much trouble he’d get into if he just threw one little punch at the guy’s face. Probably a lot… John does find it amusing though that Lee, in his own way, thinks so highly in John. Oh, if Lee actually knew the ideals John held close to his heart. The other man would be repulsed.

“Yes well, I’ll have to make one of the teams first” John retorts, keeping his tone light and cheery. It’s the kind of tone that always sounds like you’re about to deliver the punchline of a joke.

Lee is well used to such tones, having it be the go-to speaking voice at political parties. Charles does the polite chuckle and shakes his head slowly.

“You’re much too modest John. You’re a fine debater! I look forward to us going head to head.”

John hates how much this guy, someone his own age, sounds so eerily like John’s father.

“As do I Lee. Anyways I was just on my way to the library, so I’ll have to catch up with you another time.” John takes a step towards the building, hovering for a moment so Lee can acknowledge his farewell.

“Best of luck to you John! Oh and, I hope you enjoyed the message we left on your door last night, Ryan here has quite the quick-witted mind”

John stops in confusion, tilting his head at the trio and the man that Lee just patted on the shoulder. What message?

“Oh uh, did you leave a note or something? I’m afraid I must have missed it” John admits, one his hands fiddling at the edge of his sleeve.

What had Lee left there? Was it a message he was meant to pass on to his father? Was it a message at all or some kind of snide gift? Had Hamilton picked it up and chucked it somewhere?

John watches as a look of mock annoyance passes over Charles’ face.

“Oh, how boring, the immigrant must have wiped it away before you had the pleasure to see it. You weren’t home too near 9pm then? He must have gotten in before you”

9pm? John had been home around half eight-last night. He’d had his headphones on though and his lectures blaring in his ears. If Lee and his boys had written something on his door’s whiteboard, he wouldn’t even have heard it.

John swallows the lump of dread in his throat, clears it and then feels confident enough to find out what the fuck Alex had read before entering their room.

“What uh- What was the message then? Anything important?”

Lee snorts at his questions, at the same moment the two mindless goons chuckle as though it was the most amusing thing they’d heard all day. Maybe it was.

“See for yourself”

Ryan, the taller blonde one, passes his phone over to John, laughing as he opens up the image.

John holds the phone like it’s a ticking time bomb. The photo is high quality, the glare of the whiteboard is muted so it’s easy to make out what’s sprawled across his door. The word hits John like a brick, the sentence itself makes him feel queasy. It’s a cheap bit, a sour joke, a tasteless scummy cowardice thing to write.

You want to spend your whole life being called a faggot, boy?

His father’s words ring like static in his head. He passes the phone back, pushing down all the negative thoughts and all the fury that’s billowing just below his measured breathes.

He grins at Lee, his eyes not matching the tone of his voice as he bites back in the most neutral tone he can muster.

“Very creative Charles, an excellent rhyme. I would however appreciate if you didn’t write such vulgar on my door. I wouldn’t want anyone to think it applies to me after all” The lie is quick and painless. A desperate stone being tossed into a pond of time bombs. Someday they’ll all go off. But for now, John would rather bury everything in it’s depths.

Charles face drops for a moment, his mind calculating what his response should be. He’d obviously been expecting John to laugh, maybe even double over, wipe a tear away. He’s been thrown off his balance, a dangerous reaction for a man like Charles Lee.

“Well, we highly doubted anyone of your stature would be thought of as such a shameful and inhuman thing, John.” The tone is defensive and sharp. Lee did not like being told what to do, especially not in front of his little audience.

“I understand completely Lee. You’ll have to forgive me; I am just a tad paranoid. Not everyone had such an educational and political upbringing as ourselves. I’d be worried someone may not recognise me and instead…” He lowers his voice slightly, as though he’s appalled by what he’s about to say “lump me in with that lot.”

Laurens must be picking something up from Burr because he’s completely turned Lee’s mood around. The man seems delighted to have gotten both an apology and an acceptable explanation from John.

“Of course. Well say no more, we shall keep our humorous pranks away from your dorm, for your dignities sake.”

“Much obliged” John can hear his southern drawl strengthen the longer he speaks to this man. He needs to get away from this conversation, he needs to find Burr. Fuck, he needs to get back to his snow globes.

“See you around John.”

With a wave from Lee and a nod from the two silent men, Lee’s little posse stalks off. John watches them for a moment, just to make sure they actually turn the corner and disappear off into the distance before he turns on his heels and practically jogs into the library.

------------------------------

“But how on earth did they-”

“I don’t know”

“When did they…”

“Some point between 9am and 6pm”

“They even glued the pens individually”

“Yup”

John anxiously nibbles at his bottom lip as Burr surveys the mess above them. The other man is wiping a hand across in face in disbelief, his eyes tracing the route between each glued or taped object.

“John this is…this is madness” Burr flicks his head to glare at John who’s resting against Alex’s desk. “You have to report this. These are your own private possessions. He can’t just do shit like this. It’s crossing a line.”

John’s taken a bit aback from Burr’s tone. John doesn’t think he’s heard the man swear yet.

“That’s what I thought too! Especially when all I’d done is mess with his phone a bit.” John wipes the sweat off the back of his neck, feeling a lit sheepish explaining his pranks to Aaron, Mr Serious.

“But?” Burr prompts.

“But…then I realised it wasn’t the phone thing at all that Alex was mad about. We may have had a… misunderstanding of sorts.”

“Something tells me every conversation you two have is a misunderstanding.”

John half heartedly glares at Burr for that snide comment. John was in a foul enough mood as is, he didn’t need to be berated right now.

“So, what could have been so bad that Alexander thought this was a logical form of revenge?”

John tells Burr the whole story. He’s the only one on campus John would trust with the story. The only one who won’t think him a coward for not cursing Lee out of it, for not picking a fight. Maybe the only other person who truly knew Lee the way John did. Jefferson and Madison claimed they’d barely seen Lee at any of the functions they’d been forced to. They hadn’t been to as many as John or Burr though. Their parents hadn’t been as strict on the matter.

Burr’s reaction is calculated, measured. He doesn’t give away much about his feelings for the disgusting tale, bar a sharp intake of breath when Laurens described what was written on the whiteboard.

“That’s…” His voice trails off as he tries to come up with a response.

“Vile?” John suggests, the word has been echoing around his head ever since he saw the photo.

“To put it lightly.” Burr nods.

The answer is plain, but the words are warm to John. He’d never assumed what Burr’s stances on the LGBT community were, but he was glad Burr seemed thoroughly off putted by what Lee had done. John knew he’d picked a good person to make friends with.

“This…” Burr gestures to the state of the room “Suddenly makes a lot more sense.”

“It’s quite impressive what someone will do when they’re genuinely upset. Especially if that person is Alexander Hamilton” John comments, crossing his arms over his chest for a bit of comfort. He was starting to feel sick from staring at the upside-down objects.

It takes him a moment to realise that Burr is staring at him. Not only that, but he’s staring at him with a genre of intent and calculation that John can’t quite place. It’s unsettling to say the least, to see the genius gears spinning behind Burr’s eyes but to have no idea what they’re working out.

“You need to tell him”

“Tell him what?” John shoots back, standing up from the desk and popping his spine abruptly, drawing himself to his full height. He tries to look at Burr as he asks the question but finds himself staring at his turtles’ canvas instead.

“Tell him what?” Burr repeats John’s words back to him in disbelief “Tell him you didn’t do it John. Tell him that you’re not the dick he’s so keen to believe you are. That you’re not your father, or his ideals, and that you don’t go around calling people a faggot.”

John flinches at the last word. He’s sure Burr noticed but the man stays silent as John processes what Burr just spat at him. Aaron seems frustrated, he’s biting the inside of his cheek as he waits for an answer, or an explanation from John. Laurens is starting to think he should have just cleaned up the mess alone. He’s sort of tired of doing things alone though.

“I can’t” The answer ends up as a whisper. If they hadn’t been standing in a silent room, Burr mightn’t have heard him.

“John. I find it hard to believe you’re really such a prideful man that you can’t-”

“It’s not pride.” John snaps, his hands curling to fists as his top teeth chomp down on his bottom lip. He has to shut himself up somehow. Stop himself from starting a rant he’s not sure he can finish.

Burr quirks an eyebrow at his friend, surprised at his outburst. He gives John a moment to continue, folding his arms loosely and perching himself on the edge of John’s desk. He would wait all night if that’s what it took for John to explain himself.

“You understand Burr, you have to because- because we’re so similar sometimes. Similar in where we came from, how we grew up, what we went through.” He swallows hard at the last bit, he doesn’t say it, he can’t. But he can tell by how Burr shuffles uncomfortably that the other man gets it. They’re both in the dead parent club, Burr just happens to have a double membership.

“People like us live our life being watched. Whether it’s by paparazzi fishing for a political scandal or our parent’s snobby political friends, rivals, partners, or they’re insufferable children. People are always watching and waiting in the wings for us to muck up. They enjoy watching people like us fail. Alexander would be delighted if I bombed at something right before him. He doesn’t want to get to know me. He’s watched enough of where I came from to think he knows who I am. I’m sick of convincing people what I am, or amn’t. What I can do versus what I want to do. I refuse to spend the start of my brand-new life, away from the political spotlight, debating with Alexander Hamilton that I’m not a racist, homophobic southern prick. I spent too many years trying to convince politicians that I was those things, I won’t spend the next four years convincing people of the truth.” He pauses to take a breath, realising he’d quickly ran out of air thanks to the speed at which his words were falling from his lips.

“If he wants to know the truth, he can ask. He can ask properly. Not in riddles like he did last night. I’m just not going to be the one to offer up the information.”

Burr is looking at him with pity now. One of the few emotions that is easy to read on Burr.

“John-”

“No. Please. I don’t want a pity rant or a debate. I don’t want to be told to see common sense or to get over myself. I just- This is how I’m handling things. So please, just drop it. Don’t tell Alexander anything”

Burr looks torn. It’s clear to see that the man wants to argue more, wants to convince John to see sense. Maybe a small part of John wants him to.

Instead, Burr just gently nods his head.

“Alright John. Whatever you prefer”

If Burr had been anyone else John might have hugged him to show him his gratitude. Instead they just share a small smile with one another.

“Now, the next order of business” Burr tilts his head back to glare up at a pen dangling down from above him. “How on earth do we get all this down?”

The answer to that question was, slowly. Especially with the snow globes. John spent ages at those as Burr tugged pens and books easily enough off the roof. John carefully and tediously rocked and tilted the items until he could slowly and carefully peel them off the ceiling. He’d moved his bed under the ornaments, having to pull his beside table out, just as a back up in case one of the snow globes did fall. They had a much better chance if they landed on the cushiony mattress than if they crashed onto the hard carpeted floor.

It takes them the better part of two hours, but come half past eight, John’s room is looking the way it did that morning. With the addition of some nasty looking ceiling marks that is. Some bits of glue and tape had stayed stubbornly stuck on. It would have bothered John more if he wasn’t happily holding his turtle globe.

There is still some glue stuck to the bottom of the ornaments. But John is already working on getting rid of them with a file and scissors. He’s determined for his prized possessions to be back to their former glory.

“Madison just texted. They’re making tacos downstairs for dinner. They’ve ended up with far too much and are, and I quote ‘begging for some assistance’. You gonna come down?” Burr is already shrugging his jacket on as he speaks, making his way towards the door.

“I had a late lunch actually; I think I’ll pass”

He doesn’t add that his stomach still felt sick from the events of the day. Or that he is too tired from the night before to even think straight at this point.

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess” Burr goes to leave but John quickly calls out to him.

“Burr” He meets the man’s eyes this time, the first time maybe since they’d entered the room. “Thank you. For all your help. For everything you did today”

A grin stretches across his friend’s face, genuine and merry this time. Not like the mannerly ones he usually sports.

“Anytime John.”

Then he’s gone. The door clicks closed, and John goes back to his filing.

The words had sounded so simple coming from Burr. As though being there for someone was easy. As though it was something you could do with ease.

John’s phone lights up. One of his sisters is calling.

John didn’t know how Burr pulled off the nonchalance tone.

Being there for people you care about, is the most difficult task John could think of. To think you could be there anytime, as though time itself wasn’t a battle ground between work, family, friends and oneself. How could you promise ‘anytime’ in a world where time is precious, and any was unrealistic? Rarely do people have free time, and even when they do, why would they use it to help him?

Giving your time to someone is always worth it Jack. Karma. It always comes to visit.

What had John done to earn his karma? Why was karma biting him in the ass when it came to his room situation but picking him back up when it came to needing a friend to lean on.

How does it all work?

John wishes that for once, he could just have the answers.

Chapter Text

John is silent when Hamilton comes through their door near midnight.

He’s sitting at his desk, clicking through lecture slides and scribbling down frantic notes. His headphones are blaring another podcast and although he glances at Alex when he enters the room, he does nothing to acknowledge him.

He seems to have gotten everything off the ceiling. Although, Alex can still see scuff marks and stains from where the glue and tape had been.

It had looked magnificent. Himself and Lafayette had managed to do it in an hour or so. He’d came up with it a few days back, a way to win this petty feud. After last night, he thought he was entitled and righteous enough to execute it.

He’d miscalculated though.

Alex had been expecting a blowout. A screaming match in his face, a march down to the office, pictures upon pictures of evidence passed around to the different members of the administration. He expected his roommate to move rooms. He expected an official inquiry. He was sure John would try and snatch Hamilton’s scholarship away from him after this prank, with this complete disregard for Lauren’s own possessions.

He wasn’t expecting this, however. The coldness of John’s steady glare when they first lock eyes. The flip in Alex’s stomach when Laurens turns his face back to his computer, silent with his anger.

Alex makes a show of dropping his jacket unceremoniously onto the back of his desk chair. He kicks off his shoes, hitting them loudly off his wardrobe and ends up sitting on the side of his desk, facing his Lauren’s side of the room. He stares curiously at his roommate, giving the man thirty seconds to snap at Alex.

“You’re not going to say anything?” Alex finally asks, because the quiet is too much. It’s heavier than any argument could be and more suffocating than the usual anxiety surrounding their room.

John acts like he doesn’t hear him. Or maybe he can’t. Not with how loud his podcast is blaring.

“Laurens.” He says his name louder this time. He taps his fingers impatiently against his thigh, staring the other man down until John is forced to turn and address him.

“Can I help you?” Laurens tone is reserved and quiet. It feels like an elastic band ready to snap, like John is barely holding something back. Alex wishes John would just let it go.

Alex raises an eyebrow in response. He hadn’t been expecting a question. He’s starting to realise he should stop expecting things from Laurens. He always seems to be wrong.

“I asked if you were going to say anything.”

“I don’t know Hamilton. Is there anything to say.?”

“Does every conversation between us have to be this difficult.”

John looks startled by the question. Hamilton takes any emotion crossing his roommates face as a win.

“Why do you care if it is. Why would it be easy?” John sounds tired. Alex is getting tired too.

“Look. We both dislike each other. We’ve made that apparent. We both went…” Alex’s eyes flick to the ceiling. His stomach lurches as he thinks back to the message on their door. “a little far with this prank stuff. Can we just…call a truce or something. Stop rocking this boat and simply ignore each other?”

“Ignore? You’re the one who interrupted me.” He gestures to his laptop.

“I mean, starting now.” Alex grits his teeth together to stop himself from adding asshole to the end of his sentence. “No more pranks or touching each other’s stuff. Instead, we try to live in silent harmony.”

It’s hard for Alex to compromise. He’s spent the day looking forward to seeing the fruits of his revenge. He half wished he’s left a camera somewhere to record John’s reaction. It all tastes bittersweet now though, John Laurens looks more broken than angry.

A part of him relished the look when he first entered the room, delighted he’d made such an ignorant homophobe feel a tad of what Alex had felt when he saw those horrible words. The other part of him was saying he should be better than that. Aim for higher ground when facing his enemy. That’s what George would say if he was here.

Laurens shrugs in response, pushing his headphones back over his ears.

“Sounds good to me.”

Alex stands and goes to make his way to the bathroom. He needs a shower and then to sleep for at least nine hours.

He pauses though when John pulls one of the headphones back, pressing it against the side of his head.

“Oh, and Hamilton.”

He doesn’t even turn from his screen as he speaks, his voice sounding almost glacial now.

“What?”

“You touch any of those globes again. You so much as ‘accidentally’ knock one. I will not be responsible for my actions when I find out.”

He wants to mock the man, tease at him that his threats delivery could use some work. But there’s something in Laurens tone. Something beyond anger, beyond spite, something vulnerable.

Alex rolls his shoulders back, cracking his neck as he thinks of how to respond without starting another argument.

“Noted.”

He ends the conversation by slamming their bathroom door behind him.

He misses the way john slumps, the way he tiredly rubs at his eyes and stares longingly at his snow globes.

They were still enemies. They still hated one another. But things had gone from a potential world war to another cold war. It was at least an improvement.

They could just pretend the other doesn’t exist and move on with their individual college careers.

----------------------------------

Their plan works. Initially at least…

They go a whole week without saying more than a few words to another. The words they do say revolve around turning off lights, picking up toilet paper and other roommate necessary dialogue.

They never bring their friends over; they never spend time together in the room. They both find a way to spend their time in the library, hanging out with their friends, hanging out in the games room in the dorm building or the dorm’s common room. They actively avoid each other when possible.

It’s refreshing after the two weeks of constant friction. They’ve built up a nice routine around each other.

John should have known it wouldn’t last.

It only takes one e-mail to ruin it all.

John’s sitting in the library in his usual corner. Jefferson is sitting beside him, taking a break from his work to watch song covers on YouTube. Burr and Madison are working on an English project together across the table. They’ve been arguing in a hushed tone for the last five minutes about the conflict in their essay. John’s too afraid at this stage to ask what their problem is.

John had been trying to script up some of his notes from his criminal law class when the e-mail notification flashed up on his screen. The notification informs him that the e-mail was sent by his psychology professor.

As he clicks into his inbox, he can see the subject line reads ‘Essay partner’.

He’s confused as he clicks into it. They weren’t meant to be picking their partners for this semester’s essay until Monday of the fourth week. Today was only the Friday of the third week. Maybe it was a reminder sent to all students to have their partner ready?

No. The e-mail opens addressed personally to John. His eyes quickly scan the contents of the message. This couldn’t be real. It has to be some cruel prank by fate herself. Karma his mind mocks.

It’s only a few lines of text. Mr Frederick had apparently been very impressed with John at his opening lecture. That would be good news to read if it wasn’t for the sentence that followed it. George had also been impressed with the one and only, Alexander Hamilton. His e-mail was an adamant suggestion that the two pair up for the essay. Although from the tone in the content, suggestion might be too weak a word for it.

John plants his face into his hands, wondering if he can go back to five minutes ago when he was blissfully optimistic about his college life. Jefferson takes interest in his screen after seeing the pained slouching of his friend doubling over on himself.

He balances his arm on John’s shoulder as he leans over to get a better look at the screen. A “Whaaa-” escapes his lips as an incredulous whisper. He breaks into barely contained hysterics then. Clutching onto Lauren’s arm as John groans at his friend’s glee.

“Oh John, you are truly fucked”

------------------------------------

Across campus, Hamilton is having a similar reaction. He’d been lounging on Lafayette’s bed while Mulligans ranted at him from his own bed. His half-brother was off drawing somewhere and had wanted the pair ‘out of his hair’ so he could focus. They’d left the French man to his devices on a park bench on campus, he’d been squinting angrily at the clouds last Alex had seen him.

Mulligan’s took Hamilton’s silent indifference as he collapsed on Laf’s bed as an opportunity to complain about his lacrosse team and their lack of field awareness…or some sports problem like that.

Alex did his best to comfort his friend, or at least have the man feel like Hamilton was listening. He nods and hums at the right times and gently prompts his friend when it sounds like Mulligan is questioning if any of it is going in Alex’s ears. He checks his phone though when it buzzes.

He clicks the notification and unlocks his phone so that it’s open straight away. He bolts to a sitting position when he reads it, his face a mask of reluctancy and frustration.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I know! That’s what I said!” Mulligans hollers, startling Alex. His friend had apparently thought Alex had been contributing to his raving. Whoops…

---------------------

“We’re not working together. I’m not missing out on an honours in Psychology because of you.”

“Because of me? Don’t be so naive Laurens. We both know you’d slow me down and contribute some watered down, traditional argument.”

Laurens had burst into their room as he spoke. Alex had been spinning anxiously in his office chair waiting for the confrontation and had been quick to jump into the conversation.

Despite the insulting retort, John looks relieved with his response.

“Good. We’re in agreement then. We tell Mr Frederick Monday then that there’s no way we can do the essay together.”

“Oh, we’re not going to just tell him. I’ve an alphabetical list of why it’s a terribly misjudged idea.” Alex waves a full refill pad of words in his face.

“I don’t even want to know what the hell you came up with.” John can’t help the brief smirk that flickers on his face at the oddness of Alexander Hamilton. He quickly wipes it off his face though when he realises what he’s doing.

“We’ll speak to him Monday then, after the lecture.”

“Sounds good to me.” Alex confirms, leaning back in his chair.

John collapses into his own chair, spinning it around until he’s facing his desk. He needs to do something to occupy his mind and break the stale air in the room. Alex was still watching him instead of doing… literally anything else.

He grabs his sketchpad and starts to ink up a sketch he’d been working on earlier. It was for this week’s prompt ‘Clouds’. John is taking a more liberal approach with the prompt. Instead of just drawing a collection of clouds around a moon, sun or group of birds, he was taking a more fantasy approach.

His clouds bunch at the bottom of the page, well sketched and shaded, he’d spent hours at them. They vaporise then as they reach upwards, their thickness turning to wisps as if something is dragging clumps of the clouds from the main body of cloud. Coming down from the top middle of page then is a long curvy tail. It’s scaly and sharp and sparkles with the light of a moon that’s just barely spotted in the top left corner of the drawing. John had considered colouring the piece but as he inks it, he realises he prefers the atmosphere of the monochrome piece.

He barely hears the door close as Alex leaves. Hopefully he won’t be back until John’s in bed.

----------------

Monday afternoon is upon them in no time. For once, neither John nor Alex speak up in their psychology lecture. Both of them are too on edge to break into an argument. Especially if they end up arguing with one another. For once, the pair were on the same side today.

They march down from the opposite sides of the lecture hall as soon as the lecture is finished. George is slowly shutting down the lecture hall’s computer when they reach him. He glances up when he hears their footsteps and his face breaks into a beaming smile.

“Ah, if it isn’t my two most impressive first year students. A bit silent today lads, saving your energy for your essay?”

“Actually sir, the essay is what we came down here to speak to you about.” John explains, glancing at Alex for back up.

“Yes. John and I have been speaking and we’re really not suited to do this together. Here, I’ve even drawn up a list on why-”

George waves the sheet of paper away without so much as a passing glance.

“Now now. I realise your competitiveness may have you both at ends with one another most days, but it’s that passion between you both that’ll make for such an interesting report”

“Sir with all due respect, there won’t be a report if we’re forced to do it together. We barely survive as roommates, having to collaborate-”

George cuts John off mid-rant. The pair were starting to get the impression that this professor was used to having things his way.

“Roommates? Well isn’t that even more perfect. You can discuss the subject at all hours of the day. I’m sure it’ll be riveting” He actually claps then. An excited sort of twitch that’s accompanied by a shrill giggle.

Alex and John share a bewildered look of confusion. What was wrong with this guy? As if Alex and Laurens discussed anything in their room.

“With all due respect boys…” John winces at the use of his owns words against him “I’ve made up my mind on the matter. If you fail to submit anything, it’ll be your own failure reflecting back at you”

Alex straightens up and opens his mouth to argue at the same moment that Laurens feels his shoulders slouching in defeat. It’s pointless to try arguing though because as soon as he’s finished making his point the professor twirls around and walks confidently and purposefully towards the back exit of the lecture hall.

So much for teaming up against the lecturer. Looks like the pair would now have to suck it up and grumble through the project.

Laurens turns to speak to Alex, to sort out when they should meet; when they should start planning; what topic they were even going to pick from the list of prompts on their essay’s assignment page. But Alex is already at the bottom of the stairs, he takes them two at a time as he angrily storms out of the lecture hall.

Well… at least Laurens knew he’d see the man this evening. His phone buzzes and he knows before he opens it that it’s Jefferson wondering what was taking him.

With a sigh he starts his own ascension out of the hall. He would deal with Hamilton later. He was not going to fail a class because of their rivalry.

Chapter Text

Two days have passed since George’s final word on Alex and John’s partnership and Alex still hasn’t been able to seek out John and make plans for it. Every time he tries to hype himself up to do it, he ends up chickening out.

His mind keeps floating back to the stupid message on their door. John seems so lovely sometimes. He can be all smiles and bright sparkly eyes, especially when he’s on the phone to his siblings.

He always has his headphones on so Alex can’t hear what his siblings are saying but John gets so animated when he speaks with them. He calls them at least twice a week. Alex isn’t always in the room for the calls but when he is, he can’t help but overhear John asking about their lives, their health, their hobbies. As much as it sickens Alex to admit, John’s a great brother.

That’s the worst thing about John. He always seems nice. He’s polite to everyone. Angelica adored him the first time they met at debate; it had sent Alex on a rant about how awful Henry Laurens is. Angelica had initially defended John, saying he mightn’t be as bad as his father, but her tune changed when she heard about the white board incident.

Alex avoids John as much as possible at debate club. Every week the society splits into two or three groups to debate, to give people more time to speak. Every week Alex makes sure they’re in separate rooms giving separate arguments. He’s heard John is a strong speaker, witnessed it himself in lecture halls when John answers a question or debates with the professor. But Alex hadn’t seen him in full debate mode yet.

Laurens would probably have made a great friend in another world. A world where he wasn’t raised by his father, where he wasn’t raised to judge and distrust people like Alex on sight. A world where they could have seen eye to eye in debates, where they could have dominated competitions and been notoriously close roommates.

Not in this world though. In this world John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton are built to despise one another.

Alex flicks his head to look up at the roof as he leans back on his chair, his feet propped up on his desk. He really should get the ball rolling on this project when John gets back to their dorm. It’s currently around nine pm and the dorms hall is silent.

John’s usually home late on Wednesdays. Alex knows from Laf that drawing club meets on Wednesdays and they usually all hang out afterwards for completely illegal drinks. Well illegal for most of the first and second years anyways, who are definitely under twenty-one.

Alex decides he’s better off working on his corporate law assignment that’s due on Friday than he is staring off into space. He’s already done the research part of the project and now he just needs to piece it altogether into a first-class honours worthy essay.

As usual, he gets so engrossed in his writing that he doesn’t even notice when Lauren’s walks in. Doesn’t notice the man is drenched to the bone, his hair slick against his head. He misses how John’s jacket soaks the carpet under their door below where he hangs it up. Alex missed how John has to leave his shoes upside down on the radiator to dry off.

The first time he realises another human is within three feet of him is when the door to their shared bathroom shuts, the vibration of the motion jostling Hamilton out of his daze. He hears the shower start up and his eyes flick to see its past half eleven.

Well… it’s too late to speak to John about it now. They’ll probably just end up fighting and then Alex will be too worked up to sleep. Alex is not a coward… he’s just waiting for the right time to sort everything out.

He decides to hop into bed while Laurens is in the shower to avoid any conversation or confrontation on the matter. Alex even forgoes brushing his teeth and just lays his head down on the pillow, trying to relax his usual racing thoughts.

It’s only as he’s lying their wide awake does the scent of rain from Lauren’s clothes reach him. It’s only then he hears the battering of heavy rain fall against the window, the wind whistling outside like an eerie ghoulish screech.

His eyes stay wide up and staring in horror at the wall as off in the distance he hears a rumble. Oh, please let him fall asleep before it arrives. He can do it, Alex tells himself. He doesn’t need to go to Laf’s room. He’ll fall asleep long before it makes its way to campus, he reassures himself.

He screws his eyes shut, evens out his breathing and starts to count imaginary sheep in his head. He tries his best to block out the distant storm. But it’s difficult to block it out when his heart is now thumping in rhythm to the distant thunder.

The world is being ripped away. The very foundation splintering around me as solid walls become paper mâché being torn apart by thunder.

His own words echo in his mind. The same words that got him where he is today. The words that brought him to America, the words that got him his degree, the words that gave him a new chance at life.

The words that will forever haunt him.

--------------------------

Alex was avoiding him.

I mean, that was kind of their thing at this stage, avoiding one another.

Except now Hamilton and Laurens actually have to suck it up and collaborate on something.

John kept trying to corner his roommate. But every time John tries to get him alone for more than a minute, Alex manages to weasel himself out of talking.

Which, John has to say, is quite remarkable considering the two live together and also, that this is Alexander Hamilton that’s refusing to speak.

Like tonight for example, John marches into their room at half eleven and gets completely ignored. Even as he grumbles about the hurricane like weather outside and drags water across their room. Then, after he comes out of his much-needed shower, the guy has thrown himself into bed.

Since when is Alex one to run from college work?

John makes a promise to himself that he’s going to get up extra earlier the next morning and force Alex to talk to him on the way to their second psychology lecture of the week. They needed to get started this week or they’d never get the grade they both wanted.

John barely even notices the sound of rain against the window as he drifts off the sleep. Maybe if he had, he would have been more prepared.

He wakes up suddenly, his heart racing, his hand springing outwards trying to push at something that isn’t there. John’s sitting up in his bed, the room’s dark. He has no idea if it’s 1am or 4am.

He’s crying he realises, gasping and choking and clutching at his chest now. His body is tense like a coil about to spring. The only thing he can hear is his own frantic breathing and the thump of his heart against his ribcage. He’s too afraid to move for the first minute. All his muscles have locked, and his eyes can’t look past the edge of his desk at the end of his bed.

He’d been drowning again. Pounding against a door that wouldn’t open, screaming for people that were miles away. He hadn’t had this dream in a long time, close to a year maybe.

John manages to even out his breathing. His hands eventually unclench, and his jaw unlocks. He wipes away the few tears that had trailed down his cheeks and realises he’s sweat through his t-shirt.

He quickly pulls it off over his head, throwing it to the end of the bed. It’s then that he realises the room isn’t quiet. The frantic sound of heavy breathing hasn’t stopped.

His eyes slowly scan across to Alex’s side of the room. The curtains are cracked up just enough to allow the streetlamp outside their dorm to vaguely light up his roommate.

The first thing that startles Laurens is that Hamilton isn’t in his bed. He’s sat curled up on the floor between their beds. His blanket is scrunched up and abandoned at the bottom of his bed and his sheets are twisted and half pulled off his mattress.

His arms are wrapped tightly around his knees and his face is hidden; his chin tucked against shis chest. John might have called out to him if it wasn’t for the fact that Alex’s entire body was quaking. John can hear the muffled broken breathes and pained groans and is at a complete loss at what is going on.

Just as he’s about to reach for his phone to see if some world-shattering event has occurred since he dozed off, a crack of lightning illuminates the room, a second or so later thunder echoes throughout the campus. Whatever storm had been starting when Laurens had been on his walk home, has finally arrived at the university.

Hamilton freezes when the thunder sounds. His whole body locking up, his breathe cutting off mid gasp. The whole pause seems like an attempt to hide. As though Alex was trying to stay so silent and still that whatever he was cowering from, wouldn’t be able to find him.

John slowly creeps off the side of his bed, lowering himself onto the floor and landing on his knees. He makes his way within arm’s reach of Alex and leans back, resting his ass on his feet.

“Alex” John’s tone is soft, his speech barely above the noise of a whisper. Hamilton doesn’t respond. He gives no indication that he can hear John.

“Alex, it’s alright. It’s Laurens.”

John wasn’t sure what was causing this. It could be a panic attack, it could be from a nightmare, it could be an actual mental breakdown. Whatever it is, at this moment all the hate, all the annoyance; frustration and anger that had been bubbling inside John when he looks at Alex, evaporates.

In this moment, John has never understood Alex more. John knows all too well what it was like to be locked inside your own body from fear. He’s also had more than enough practice with his siblings when it comes to trying to help someone calm down and come back to themselves. Although, it’s a lot easier to help someone who unconditionally trusts you.

“Alex please. Can you hear me?”

The use of a question seems to get through to Alex in some capacity because ever so slowly Alex’s head turns. He just twists his neck to the left enough, that one of his eyes is peaking around his knees.

“Good, good. I need you to keep an eye on me. Okay?”

John praises any kind of reaction from Alex, gives him an instruction, something Alex can focus on. Then he ends the sentence with another question, trying to keep his roommate engaged and thinking.

“Can you look at me with both eyes Alex?” The other man’s breathing is getting quicker, John can see panic flaring up in his eyes. John’s not sure if that’s because Alex is unable to lift his head from his chest, or if it’s because Hamilton is slowly realising the scene that’s unfolding around him. John doesn’t think he’d be thrilled either if Alexander was trying to comfort him at a time where he’s vulnerable.

“That’s okay, you’re okay. Just one eye for now is fine” This time Alex reacts a bit calmer. His next breath is slower, lighter. After a moment he manages the smallest nod.

John creeps forwards another inch and suddenly the room is bathed in white light again. Another flash of lightning. This time though, John’s eyes are on Alex. He watches how Alex’s eye widen, his breath sucks in harsher than any other time. John sees complete terror reflecting back at him in the pupils of Hamilton’s eyes.

Alex screws his eye shut. John doesn’t think he’ll open it again for a while. When the thunder follows three seconds later, Alex is tenser than when John first woke up.

The storm. Alex is petrified of storms. There’s more to it than that, John can guess that much. The reaction seems extreme for a simple phobia many people harbour.

John is at a loss at what to do. If this was his siblings he’d scoop them up, cuddle them close, whisper all the usual comforting lines and repeated stories he always tells them when they’re scared. He doesn’t know any stories that would comfort Alex. He doesn’t even know if the man wants to be touched, if he wants John to speak or not.

Lafayette. Lafayette would know what to do.

“Alex. I’m going to go get Lafayette. I’ll just be a minute.” He keeps his tone light, pushing himself upwards as he speaks. He doesn’t even get properly to his feet though when Alex startles him by speaking.

“No, please don’t.” The voice coming from his roommate sounds nothing like Alexander Hamilton’s voice. It’s coarse and it’s cracking and breaking between each word. There is no smoothness to it, his tone carries none of its usual vigour. It doesn’t help that the last word is ruptured by a sob erupting from his chest.

It seems that John’s actions have caused some dam to break inside of Hamilton because suddenly he’s crying. His hands grip at his hair, his fingers curling around large chunks of locks and Alex is tugging and twisting at them. His feet drilling into the floor under him as he lets out sob after sob.

He’s overwhelmed, John notes. He’s looking for anything, pain or the coarseness of the carpet beneath his feet to steady him.

He’s drowning

The thought snaps John into moving. His hands grapple with Hamilton’s, he interlocks their fingers and drags them away from Alex’s hair. The priority must be to stop Alex from hurting himself. John had learnt that much from his sister.

“Whoa Alex, it’s alright. Ease up.” He clutches Alex’s hands in his own and brings them down near their laps. John’s barely a breath away from the other man at this point.

Alex’s hands are a clammy mess. John tests a theory by gently caressing up Alex’s wrist, the skin is cool against John’s warm palms. Alex’s whole arm is a mess of goosebumps and John isn’t sure now if Alex is shaking from fear, or shivering from the cold.

John moves his two-handed grip on Alex’s hands to just his left hand. With his right he reaches over Alex and across his bed, grappling at Alex’s duvet. He tugs it towards the pair and manages to wrap it around his roommate’s shoulders. He has to do it with one hand as Alex now seems to have a death grip on his other hand.

Another flash of light and the monotonous bang of thunder above them, sends Alex’s chin to his chest once again. John takes it as small a win that Alex doesn’t drop his hand.

John very carefully works the duvet around Alex until it’s cocooning him. He then seats himself beside Alex, their knees and shoulders bumping off one another’s.

Over the next few minutes John counts the seconds in between the lightning and thunder aloud, reassuring Alex that as the gap widens, the storm gets further away. In between the waiting moments of silence, John keeps up a stream of conversation.

He’s trying to fill the void of quiet. Trying to have Alex focus on something that isn’t his own uncontrollable breathing. John doesn’t ask why Alex is afraid of storms, he doesn’t even speak at Alex. Instead John rambles.

He tells Alex about a blanket fort he once made with his seven-year-old sister during a storm like this. How when the lights went out in the house, they lit their new flimsy home up with fairy lights. John tells Alex about how his second sister, who was only three years younger than John, had timidly asked to join them. He tells Alex that the older sister, Martha, didn’t mind storms, it was the darkness that got to her.

John tells him about the shadow puppet show they created with torches while they waited for the storm to pass. How his youngest sister, Mary, had a gift for creating animals with her hands. While all Laurens could muster was the classic bunny ears shadow.

John’s so engrossed with his rant that he forgets for a moment who he’s speaking to. Without meaning to, he even tells Alex about his own fear that night. That while one of his sisters was afraid of the storm; the other the dark; John was most afraid for their dad and second oldest brother.

They’d been at a concert, he tells Alex. It was near midnight when their car had arrived back at the manor. His sisters had fallen asleep snuggling together in their lopsided fort. But John couldn’t stop pacing until he heard the door open and saw both of them were safe. It’s only when he mentions it was the roads he’d been worried about. that John’s brain catches up with him.

He’d almost admitted something too personal, something he did not want Alexander Hamilton of all people to know.

As John’s voice trails off mid-sentence, his mind trying to work out how to shift the topic in a way that won’t make it seem forced, so Alex won’t push, John realises the other man has gone silent.

Hamilton’s breathing is normal. He’s stopped crying, stopped shaking. He’s still holding John’s hand but not as fiercely. When John turns to get a better look at his roommate he realises Alex is staring at him. He’s staring at John with this unfounded intensity. It’s so unnerving that John has to glance away for a moment.

Its Alex’s signature calculating glare. Jefferson once described it as Alex’s ‘undressing stare’. It’s like his mind can pick you a part with his gaze, like he’s examining all your pieces and finding what he loves and hates about you before you even get a chance to comment on the matter. It’s something that terrifies John.

A moment of silence passes between the two. Slowly Alex draws his hands back, tucking his arms around his waist and under the duvet. Alex flicks his head then, looking away from John and towards their bedroom door.

“I- uh, Look I’m not- it’s not that-” Alex’s voice is barely a raspy whisper. He struggles to get any point across, and John can hear the strain in his words. John can also hear the words he’s not saying.

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” John cuts him off, ending the poor guy’s frustration.

Alex doesn’t make a move to get off the ground, so John just stays there. Keeping some kind of contact between the two. He knows sometimes it takes a while, before you can move after something like this. Despite his disdain for Hamilton, he won’t leave him cowering on the floor alone.

“Why?” Alex mutters after another minute of silence. He’s managed to sit up straights, his back curving against the side of his bed. He’s pulled the duvet more around himself, probably trying to warm up.

John just tilts his head in confusion, twisting his neck just enough that he can shoot Alex a puzzled look.

“Why did you- I mean… why are you…” Alex is gesturing with one of his hands that is now poking through the duvet cocoon. He’s waving furiously at John, or more specifically at the fact that John was sitting on the floor at, John glances at the clock, half one in the morning, comforting his roommate.

John peers down at his hands which he’s intertwined in his lap. He didn’t really think about it. He just jumped into action when he noticed Hamilton. It was like…

“You reminded me of my sister.” He says the words before he’s even thought them.

The answer seems to baffle Alex even more. He watches Hamilton try to connect enough dots in his head so that the situation will make sense. He can even make out in the dim light, the point at which Alex decides he won’t figure it out tonight.

“Thank you.” Hamilton mutters, averting his gaze from John as he does so.

John lets himself smile for the first time since he woke up.

“Don’t mention it.”

Another thirty or so seconds pass and just as Laurens is about to suggest they try sleep; Alex speaks up again.

“You woke up crying earlier. I just about noticed, with everything…”

John does his best to swallow around the lump in his throat that has just popped up from the statement. He assumed Alex hadn’t noticed his little episode.

“Uh yeah, just a stupid nightmare. I guess storms bring out that sort of thing.” He does his best to play it off, but he can feel Alex’s eyes on him as John stubbornly stares at the edge of the bed in front of them. The last thing John needs right now is for Alex to spot something on John’s face that he’s too tired to hide.

Alex doesn’t push though. He lets the topic drop and slowly climbs onto his feet until he’s sitting on the edge of his bed. John thinks the retreat is because he hasn’t pushed Alex about what just happened. Hamilton hates not knowing things, but it’s clear even he gets that some things can’t be asked about.

John follows his lead and crawls over to his own bed. He gets under the covers but stays sitting for a moment, watching what Hamilton will do next.

“Goodnight John.”

Alex doesn’t make a move to lie down as he says it, but John gets the feeling it’s his roommates’ way of saying he doesn’t need to be babysat anymore. It’s weird to hear his first name coming from Alex’s mouth.

“Goodnight Alexander.”

Neither of them sleep for a long time after that. John’s too afraid that if he closes his eyes again, he’ll be back staring at rising water and fading bubbles. He doesn’t move again though. He doesn’t want Alex to know he’s still awake.

He can’t check the time, but he guesses close to an hour passes before he hears Alex lie down. Even then he can’t be sure when the other man actually drifts off to sleep. John isn’t even sure when he nods off. It’s only when his eyes crack open and sunlight is pouring through the crack in the curtains that he realises he must have fallen asleep at some point.

The pair go about their usual morning routine. At first, they don’t say anything to each other. It’s awkward and tense and in a completely new way than their usual hostility. It’s more like a blanket of suspense is hanging above their heads.

Eventually they both must head towards their lecture. They awkwardly leave together, they usually time it differently. They usually make sure they don’t end up walking together. This morning though, it feels weird to do it on purpose.

They don’t mention the events of the night before. Instead, as they descend the stairs of the dorm building and Alex eventually breaks the silence, no shock really that it’s him that does so, they end up finally speaking about their essay.

They make a plan for when to work on the essay, how they’ll split what they’re going to do, and they even discuss what essay topics they want to avoid, and which ones interest them. John is surprised to realise that they both have similar thoughts on the topics they want to pick.

The conversation seems to flow so easily between them when it’s a topic in which they both agree on. John doesn’t even notice the ten minutes pass as they walk across campus and arrive at their lecture hall.

He notices a similar bewildered look on Alex’s face when he too realises that they have reached their destination so abruptly. They end up delivering an awkward goodbyes to one another as they both make their way to their usual spots in the lecture hall, their seats as far from one another as possible.

It feels odd to do so. John’s not sure why. Burr gives him a baffled look as he sits beside them, he’s noticed John’s arrival at the lecture door hasn’t been alone.

Burr’s not nosey like Jefferson though and doesn’t ask. Just raises an eyebrow in query before the lecturer starts speaking.

It’s hard for Laurens to focus for once. He clicks the voice recorder on his phone on as per usual and decides he’ll allow himself to zone out for once. He’ll have to listen back to write up his notes later anyways,

As the voice of the lecturer fazes in and out of John’s current line of thought, he thinks back on the night before. How small Alex had looked, how close his roommate had come to asking John the questions he could never answer and how soft Alex’s hands had felt in his own.

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet

John had never been a big Shakespeare fan, but as his thoughts of Alexander begin to mutate and change, he’s starting to relate a lot with the famous Romeo and Juliet couple. If John had any other name in the world that wasn’t Laurens, maybe Alex would have looked at his flower, instead of the thorns on his stem.

Chapter Text

Why was he awake? It’s a Sunday, it’s… nine in the morning. He didn’t have an alarm set until ten. John was letting himself sleep in today.

John glances across the room and sees Hamilton is also groggily waking up. The pair had been brainstorming the night before for their project and it had been well past midnight when they finished up.

It takes John a second to realise it wasn’t an alarm that had woken him up, it’s a banging on their bedroom door.

“You expecting anybody?” John groans, mushing his face back against his pillow, trying to block out the now persistent banging. It was probably Lafayette stopping by, the dude could be obnoxiously loud.

“No.” Hamilton sighs, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He was having the same thought process as his roommate and was preparing a slew of insults to fling at Lafayette for waking him up. The knocking gets louder and more aggressive as Hamilton reaches for the door handle.

“I’m coming, I’m coming, Calm down Laf-”

The woman standing outside their door is definitely not a six-foot-tall eccentric French man. This woman has curly brown hair that slips past her shoulders. She’s wearing a floral print red dress with black tights and as her brown eyes lock with Hamilton’s, he feels himself gulp.

The woman is gorgeous, pure conventional beauty mixed with modern art. Her gaze is fierce though. She looks Alexander up and down like he’s a piece of meat, and she doesn’t seem at all impressed with what she sees.

“Is Jack here?” Her tone is condescendingly sweet and rehearsed, like she’s been plotting the exact line for days. She folds her arms across her chest and raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“Hello? Earth to short boy. Is Jack here?”

Hamilton’s shakes his head like he’s in a daze. He’s way too confused after just waking up… and who the hell is Jack?

“Uh no. It’s just myself and John here.” Alex’s words come out a pitch higher than he’d like. He also blames the voice crack completely on the fact that his throat is parched from sleeping.

She rolls her eyes at him like he’s just stated the dumbest thing possible and promptly bulldozes past him and into his room.

“Hey, wait, you can’t just come in here!” Alex spins around to argue with the girl but her attention is now completely focused on Alex’s roommate.

John has sat up during the encounter and as soon as she bursts into the room, he lets out a surprised…

“Maria? What the hell are you doing here?” John’s expression is a combination of disbelief and joy as he clambers out of bed.

She lets out a laugh, her whole demeanour changing as the pair embrace each other. She’s completely relaxed now, giddy laughter flowing from her lips. She doesn’t seem at all perplexed that John is only wearing a pair of long boxers.

“What am I doing here? Do you really have to ask Birthday boy?” Her tone is mocking, and she taps her finger on his nose as she speaks.

It’s John’s birthday? He hadn’t mentioned it once the night before. Although, Alex supposes it’s not something that really would have came up. How does your roommate’s birthday arrive without you being aware though? I guess the answer to that, the two of you aren’t friends.

“Oh Maria, you didn’t” John lets out a low groan that transitions to laughter half-way through. “I told you, no plans this year. Please tell me you did not-”

“Drive eight hours, stay in a motel, google search things to do in Kansas City? Yes, yes I did” She sounds smug as she speaks, her energy now leaving her bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for John’s reaction.

“You’re insane.” But he’s grinning like a fool as he says it.

“And you’re not even dressed. Go! Shower!” She pushes him towards the en suite before plopping herself down on his desk chair, her feet kicking up onto the table without a second thought.

It’s only at this point that Alexander realises he’s still standing in the doorway holding onto the door’s handle in shock. What the hell just happened? He awkwardly shuts the door with a quiet click.

He walks around the woman like she’s some kind of wild animal that could pounce. Alex has fought savage dogs before, this felt no different. As the shower buzzes to life one door away, the woman, Maria, seems to be scrolling through her phone, actively ignoring Hamilton.

She doesn’t seem at all intimidated that she’s in a place she’s never been before, in a room with a man she’s never met. She looks more at home in the room than Alex. He still feels like a fraud sometimes studying in this college.

“See something you like?”

Alex had gotten so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed her flick her attention from her phone to him, catching him blatantly gawking at her.

His brain hadn’t been going down that particular train of thought whatsoever though. She’s attractive and all, but Alex feels himself on a bit of man hunt at the moment. He’d had enough of women for a while after his last relationship…

“Yeah actually, cool phone.”

He gestures to her Pixel 3 as he says it. It was a phone he’d wanted himself. Despite the fact the Washington’s would have gladly got it for him, Alex couldn’t quantify the justice in spending so much money on a phone ,when the cheap android he has in his pocket does the same things for a fraction of the price.

She seems amused by his answer. Her mouth quirks into a sly grin and she tilts her head, seemingly studying him further. The head tilt is eerily similar to the one John does when he’s confused.

Alex doesn’t want to think about the fact that he’s actually retained the micro bits of information about John that he witnesses every day.

She lets out a distrusting hum in response. Like she doesn’t quite believe what Alex is saying. She doesn’t push for conversation though, going back to her phone instead.

Alex would very much like to be back in bed asleep right now but lying back down just didn’t feel right while she was here. Neither did sitting at his desk or going on his phone. It was hardly like he could get changed either, not with her here.

Alex feels himself trapped in his own room. Stuck in a weird limbo of just really wanting John to be finished in the shower and for this scary lady to leave. Alex should have just gone on his phone and ignored her, but as always, when Alexander Hamilton feels trapped, he talks.

“So… you and John are close?” He leans back against the desk as he speaks, folding his arms across his chest as he does his best to look nonchalant.

She scoffs in response, shaking her head incredulously. Her lips purse together, and she doesn’t respond.

“Related?” He hazards a guess. Judging by how comfortable the two are and how far she travelled to see him.

This gets a humourless laugh from Maria. Her gaze flicks up, her head still tilted down. She glares over the phone at him.

“How about your just keep quiet?” She hisses, her tone full of spite.

“Excuse me?”

“Quiet, silent, shut the fuck up.” She gestures wildly with her arms “You understand?”

The same condescending tone comes back in full swing as she asks the final question. Alexander has heard that tone before. He’s heard it at borders, at visa meetings, run ins with the police. It’s the tone people like to use with Alex when they think he’s some stupid immigrant.

“This is my room.” Alex bites back, straightening his back and lifting his chin at her.

“How observant. Gold star.” Her attention goes back to her phone. Like Alexander isn’t even worth her time.

“You can’t just come in here and-”

“And what?” Her eyes widen in an attempt to look innocent. In a flash she’s kicked her legs off the table and is standing in front of Alexander, almost nose to nose.

She’s about three inches shorter than Alex but she’s no less intimidating when she squares up to him.

“I’m not going to fight a woman.” He gulps, not sure how the situation has escalated so quickly.

“How noble.” She’s smirking now. A hand caressing the collar of Alex’s creased t-shirt. She looks like she’s ready to tear him apart.

“A place to eat better be the first place you looked up cause I’m starving.” John calls as he exits the bathroom. He’s gotten dressed and is currently scrunching his hair in a towel.

“Of course you’re thinking of food.” Maria is by John’s side in a second. The coldness is gone, replaced with the same cheery face and energy she’d had when she first entered the room.

She’s a completely different person with John in the room.

“What? It’s morning, it’s normal to be thinking of breakfast.” Laurens doesn’t seem to notice that Alex is boring holes in his friend’s back. He reaches for a leather jacket and shrugs it on over his white t-shirt. He reminds Alex of a character out of Grease or some equally cheesy 70’s film.

“Pancake place twenty minutes from here. Think you can hold out until then?”

“For pancakes? Obviously.”

Laurens is different now too. Alex has only seen the side to him that’s cut off and cold. He’s only seen Laurens as a person he hates. It’s world breaking to watch him interact with someone he’s so comfortable around. For a moment Alex sees himself and Lafayette in the room. Not a care in the world, always on the same page. Alex suddenly feels very out of place in his room.

“Right c’mon then birthday boy, we’re burning daylight.” She grabs his arm and without even a glance at his roommate, Laurens is gone. The door slamming shut behind him.

The realisation of the scene that just occurs doesn’t hit Alex for another five minutes. Five minutes that he spends pacing the length of their room, trying to piece together what exactly it is he’s feeling.

This Maria woman obviously knew who Alexander was. Hence, the less than welcoming introduction between the two. This had to mean that Laurens has already spoken about Alexander to her. Going off her behaviour, she obviously didn’t like what she heard.

It’s clear from the way she mocked even his ability to understand English that she’s a blatant racist. She mightn’t be Caucasian but it’s obvious her family grew up in America with all the luxury entitlements that accompanies those with US citizenship.

She had looked at him like he was a piece of filth. Hamilton also took note of how she always stepped between the two roommates. Like she didn’t want Alexander anywhere near John, like Alex was going to dirty him or something…

Oh, now things were starting to make sense. She wasn’t just a racist. This woman must be in love with John. Why else would she travel eight hours on his birthday to spend time with him? Why else would she be so possessive over him? Now her precious John is rooming with a filthy, unnatural bisexual. It must disgust her.

Alex lets out a deep groan as he falls back on his bed, the base of the palms of his hands rubbing roughly against his closed eye lids. Just as he was thinking John and he were becoming somewhat amiable, he’s reminded that John will never be his friend.

Sure, they could work through this assignment together. They’ll probably even get the highest grade they can. They’re both clearly at the top of their class. But outside of that, what Alex is, John will never accept that. Never see past that.

The thought makes Hamilton sad for a moment, a pang of emotion cooling in his stomach and tugging at his heart. It’s quickly washed away by a stream of anger. The cooling is replaced with the heat of resentment. Alex will not let himself feel bad for who he is and who he loves.

Jerks like Laurens are more than welcome to exist with their views, but Alex will be unapologetically himself. It’s John’s fault they can’t be friends. It’s John’s fault that they’re so incompatible.

As his mind rants and rave, a text notification shakes him back to reality. He clicks his lock screen on to see it’s a news notification. Hamilton makes sure to keep up to date with all political movements, bills and scandals.

As his eyes scan over the notification, he finishes his thought from a moment before, it’s John Lauren’s father’s fault that people like Alexander will have to fight to exist, to have rights.

--------------------------------

“I thought he’d be taller.” Maria admits as she takes a long sip of her Starbucks coffee. They’d passed through the drive thru on the way to breakfast.

“What? Why? I told you he was shorter than me.” John questions, spinning the wheel as he parks his car outside the café.

“I don’t know. I just imagined someone as much as a jackass as him to be… larger?”

John shoots her a raised eyebrow of confusion as his response.

“Okay saying it out loud makes me sound stupid. I guess it’s true what they say about shorter people being more spiteful.”

“Well, you certainly are.” Laurens teases as they both clamber out of the car.

“You’re hilarious Laurens. He was so two faced too. You should have heard him too! As soon as you go off to shower, he’s trying to be all polite. As if I wouldn’t know how much of a dick he is to you.”

“He’s gotten better in the last week.” John defends.

“Oh, don’t even Jack. You’re way too soft. Just because he’s not being a complete douche all of a sudden, doesn’t make him a good person. He’s made your college life way more difficult than it needs to be. For no other reason than he’s a self-righteous, victim entitled little shit.”

John can’t help but grimace as he holds the door open for her and she storms past him. Maria could really hold a grudge, especially against someone who’s wronged a friend of hers. It was something he loved about her, and something that terrified him.

“Can we talk about something else? Like anything else?” Laurens pleas as they find themselves a booth by the window to slide into.

Maria lets out a less than agreeable hum as she fiddles with one of the menus on the table.

“Fine. But only because it’s your birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, the real question of the day.” She smiles at John over her menu, a questionable look behind her eyes. “Chocolate sauce on my pancakes, or maple syrup?”

“You’re going to end up complaining there’s too much sauce either way. Just get the bacon pancakes, you know you always prefer the saltier options.” john jokes, lightly referencing her own salty behaviour this morning.

“You’re so lucky it’s your birthday.” Her eyes have now narrowed into slits and she’s glaring at him across the table. “and lucky that you’re absolutely right. Bacon is always the answer.”

The giggles that follow her sentence are contagious and John finds the morning passing quickly, laughter and jokes flying between the two friends as they dig into their food. It’s only been a month since John has seen Maria, but it’s felt like so much longer.

The two have been friends their whole life. Her father, James Reynolds, has been a friend of Henry Laurens for years. The pair were quite the political duo. Which makes the existence of Maria and John questionable. The pair were the complete opposite of their fathers.

John was blessed to have Maria growing up. Their own questions of sexuality, religion and political opinions might have been internalised beyond reach had they not had each other to question and confide in. Maria was one of the few people on this earth that can completely relate to John. They both know what it’s like to be the black sheep of the family.

Their fathers have always been very supportive of their friendship too. Only because they were ignorant of the pair’s conversations though. It was clear both their fathers thought the two to be a perfect match for one another. A political marriage so strong, it would secure their fathers beliefs for many more generations.

Maria’s father, as far as John knew, might still hold that sentiment. Might still be holding out for his daughter to marry his ideal son-in-law. John’s father knows the truth though. Even if he doesn’t accept it. John has ruined that fairy-tale for his father, it was the first of many that he ruined.

“After the aquarium we’re heading to this top-notch fancy place to eat, you’d hate it if it wasn’t for the fact that I checked the menu and it has Pollo Guisado. Which I know, I know, sounds dodgy being cooked in America, but the reviews for it were all great, and…Jack? Are you even paying attention?”

John slowly blinks as he realises, he’d completely zoned out on what his best friend was saying.

“Uh… aquarium and food?”

She rolls her eyes at his attempt at feigning attention.

“Forget it. I’ve the day planned anyways. I’ll just drag you through it.”

“Thanks?” He half questions, amused by the pout forming on Maria’s face.

He takes a moment to take in the slight tension in her shoulders, the way she’s fiddling with the edge of her napkin. She’s nervous. Laurens really wishes there was a way to slap yourself without anyone noticing. He could be a real idiot sometimes.

He knows his best friend like he knows his own mind. Only she’d plan the perfect, most mind-blowing day for her best friend, who she knows everything about, and feel insecure about it.

“It sounds great Ems.” He grabs her hand across the table as he says it, drawing her attention to him. “I’m sorry for zoning out. I just… I was realising how much I’ve missed you in the last month.”

The look of reassurance and glee that filters across her face brings a warmth to Lauren’s chest. Yeah, he’d definitely missed her more than he’d let himself admit.

“Sap.” She mocks, with no real malice behind it.

They go to leave, and she blatantly pushes him towards the exit as she slaps their bill on the table with a generous tip, leaving no room for argument.

“Don’t even think about thinking about it Laurens. Birthday boys do not pay for their day out.”

She insists the same at the aquarium when she gets them their tickets and audio tour tapes. The place is beyond impressive. It’s filled with all kinds of sea life. John finds himself taking countless pictures, his fingers itching to draw some of the more exotic creatures and their habitats. They walk through glass corridors that are built through some of the exhibits, the different fish and sea life swimming around and above them. John finds himself twirling around, his face tilted back to get a better look at all of it.

Maria laughs at him good naturedly, snapping photos of his awestruck face and gets some pretty good shots of his silhouette against some of the brighter exhibits, the shadows of fish looming behind him. She always had a way with photography.

Just as John thinks they’re at the end of the tour, they turn into the last room of the aquarium before they loop back to the gift shop. It’s a whole exhibit dedicated to turtles. Maria conveniently left that part out when she was selling the tour to him. No wonder she wouldn’t let him look at the brochure.

He’s speechless as he walks around. He feels like he’s dreaming as countless races of turtle swim up and around him. He takes his time reading all the information on the walls, it’s the first exhibit he’s in that he doesn’t find his mind drifting off as he reads through all the text. Maria has done her research because as John spends about twenty minutes slowly losing his mind at how incredible this place is, the time to feed the turtles comes around.

He watches with barely contained joy as an employee throws in all kinds of turtle foods, the creatures responding by gently racing one another around the exhibits and eagerly biting at the floating bits as they descend in their tanks.

By the time John is ready to leave, he finds Maria has already moved on to the gift shop. She’s holding a bag that looks crammed with stuff and grinning at him like she’s pulled off a notorious scheme.

In reality, she’d gone ahead of him and ransacked the turtle themed part of the gift shop. The bag had a turtle plushie; a turtle pin; a turtle keychain; pen; notebook; miniature. Any gift shop knick knack you can think of, and Maria has found a turtle themed version of it.

They laugh at how over the top the whole thing is, and they leave the place with their arms wrapped around one another, cackling and shoving each other. Laurens had almost forgotten what it was like to be this giddy and ridiculous with someone.

Lunch is spectacular. Maria has found the only place in Kansas, or maybe event the state, that has actual authentic Puerto Rican food and it’s absolutely delicious. John hasn’t had food like this since his mother passed away.

The taste and texture bring back memories to John that he wasn’t even aware he’d forgotten. Maria says nothing when he tears up a bit at the first few bites, just squeezes his hand under the table. She only relaxes when he assures her it’s one of the most delicious dishes he’d ever had.

As the evening swings around, she surprises him with his own friends. Apparently, she’d added Burr on Facebook as soon as John had mentioned the man was his friend. Not only that, but as a shock to John, Maria and Jefferson already knew one another.

“Well yeah, I’m surprised you never got friendly with him. He was at a lot of the same events as us when we were kids. Although, I suppose your dad didn’t go to all the same ones as mine did.” She explains, amused by his confusion.

“I can’t believe you didn’t mention once throughout the week that your birthday was coming up! Twenty-one years of age and everything. You didn’t think that was important?” Jefferson interrogates, sitting into the booth Maria and John had picked in the local arcade.

She’d told him they were going there for some fun and to break some of the high scores on the games. She’d failed to tell him that Madison, Jefferson and Burr would meet them there as well.

Laurens helplessly shrugs at the accusation.

“I don’t usually make a big deal about it. It’s usually just a family celebration” It’s only half the truth. John has a very good reason why he hates his birthday, why he likes for it to pass as a normal day.

He let it slide this year. He let Maria drag him away on a magical day of catching up because he needed it. He needed today, to spend a day with her. But this day is always painful, always filled with such regret and a shadow from the past. There’s a reason his dad doesn’t send him so much as a “have a good day” on his birthday. John didn’t deserve anything good on this day.

Maria must notice his internal spiral into self-depreciation because she instantly changes the subject.

“Please tell me one of you fellas knows how to play the FPS over there.” Her hand gestures to one of the physical guns shooting games, the one with zombies painted all over the side of the console. “-because Jack sucks at any type of shooter games and it’s much more fun to beat someone in person and not just the high score on the title screen”

Jefferson is instantly bemused by her challenge and quickly forgets he’s nagging John.

“Oh, you’re so on. I happen to be a master at the game.” A smug grin plasters on his face as the pair head off towards the game.

“He really isn’t.” Madison mutters, looking pre-tired as he watches Jefferson bouncing his way towards the gun. “I better go make sure he doesn’t smash the game when he dies at the first round.”

Madison stands to Jefferson side and seems to be lightly coaching him as Maria starts to kick his butt, and the zombies butt, as they fight through the virtual apocalypse.

“Maria messaged me a few days ago, about her plan, about all of this. I didn’t really have much time to get into the city with the short notice but, I hope this is alright.”

Lauren’s head spins from looking over his shoulder at the shooter game to Burr who is sitting across from him. Aaron has pushed a small ribbon packaged parcel across the table to John.

“Aaron, you didn’t have to get me anything.” John exclaims, his eyes wide as his fingers caresses the brown paper packaging.

“It’s only something small. I wasn’t really sure what you’d like but... I noticed you never wore one so I thought it might be something you could use.”

John gently unravels the ribbon as Burr rambles. His fingers delicately pushing back the wrapping. Beyond his siblings and Maria, John couldn’t remember the last time someone had given him a birthday present. He refused to tell any of his high school friends when his birthday was.

The wrappings push back to reveal an elegant silver rimmed watch. It’s simple, classy and has fancy lines instead of numbers. There’s a brand name on it but John was never one for watches and has no idea how prestigious the name is. It’s easy to tell from the quality of the item though that the watch was expensive.

“It’s…it’s beautiful man, really.” Laurens grins across the table, glancing at the pleased and relieved look on Burr’s face as John clasps it around his wrist. It fits neatly and he likes the weight of it on his wrist.

“I always meant to buy one, I just got lazy with having my phone I guess.”

“I’m glad you like it.” Burr replies, voice as polite as ever. But John can hear the delight behind his tone. Burr was getting a bit easier to read with each conversation the pair share.

The rest of the night is spent floating through the arcade, jumping from game to game. Admittedly, Laurens sucks at most of them. He’s not the best when it comes to hand eye co-ordination. However, he whoops everyone’s ass at dance dance revolution. The only person that can ever challenge the same levels as he is Maria. The pair had spent hours playing the game back home at their local arcade. The easily smash most of the high scores in the game, or at least the ones for the dances they like the most. They put the name of the high score winner as JM, just like they did back home.

It’s late when Laurens heads back to the dorms with the guys. Maria says her goodbyes. She’s booked a room in a hotel near the campus. John walks her to her car. his friends hang back as the pair say their goodbyes.

She lunges forward at him when she reaches her car, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. He responds with squeezing firmly around her waist. He’d missed her hugs, missed the smell of her vanilla shampoo he could always smell off her.

“You better call me during the week. Keep me informed on how things are going.” She wags a finger jokingly in his face as she leans back from their embrace.

“Yes ma’am.” He teases, saluting her.

“And I’ll be seeing you at Halloween, yes? You’re not getting out of partying with me”

He groans as he’s reminded for the tenth time today of her invitation to go all the way to her college for Halloween weekend to get shitfaced with her and her friends.

“I’ll see. I’ll probably be flat out with college assignments. It’ll be mid-term and no doubt the professors will swamp us with work.” He tries to reason with her.

She just waves her hand undeterred as she slips into her car. As she pulls out of her driving spot, she rolls down her window.

“No excuses Laurens. Don’t make me drag you there.”

He flips her off as she drives out of the car park, she easily returns the favour out her rolled down window. They both laugh at themselves as the other turns out of view.

John gives himself a full two seconds to process she’s gone again for another month, before he makes his way back over to his friends.

“I still can’t believe you know Maria, but somehow didn’t have the pleasure of knowing me.” Jefferson moans as they walk across campus.

“She’s a lovely young woman, a great friend to have.” Madison comments, ignoring Jefferson’s confusion.

“Yeah, she’s the best.” John smiles, his tone a hint on the giddy side.

Burr and Jefferson share a smirk between them.

“The best huh?” Burr questions, at the same moment that Jefferson puts his arm around Laurens, drawing his friend near and remarks “just a great friend?”

John eyes the pair up warily, they’ve both managed to flank his sides.

“Yes, a friend. We’ve known each other since we were kids, she’s basically another sister to me.” John’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument. His three friends however share a smug look.

Jefferson holds his hands up in mock surrender.

“Sure, sure, we believe you John.”

The smiles on their faces give John the opposite impression.

John could do it now, he thinks. This was the perfect time to tell them. It was a natural moment, not one forced on his friends or shoehorned into a conversation.

Actually… she’s not my type.

I don’t really play for her team.

I’m gay.

“Whatever, you guys are the worst.”

John tries not to cringe at his own words.

He’ll tell them… eventually. When he knows they won’t go running to their families or the media with one of the juiciest stories in the current political sphere.

John’s phones buzzes and he flicks it open as he walks, his friends getting a step ahead of him as they tease one another about their performance at the arcade.

It’s a text from his eldest sister. She’s already called earlier to wish him a happy birthday, what could she want this late?

“I know this will suck for you to read, but I don’t want you to find out somewhere else or from someone else. Jack, you know I love you so much, all of us do. Don’t take this personally…okay? This is just the way he is, the way his party is. He still loves you. Also, I don’t support this either. The rest are too young to understand but I do. I love you big bro x”

Martha has linked a news article to the bottom of her message. The headline is enough to bring John’s perfect day crashing down. He should have known the high he was on today would bring a new kind of low.

Henry Laurens backs the conservative party’s move to abolish the 2015’s act to legalise same-sex marriage

The opening paragraph describes how the party wants to make it a states decision if they want to allow the ‘unnatural’ joining of two same-sex people in the holy matrimony of marriage.

John can’t read past the first paragraph of bigoted and religious nonsense. All he really learns from it is that there’s going to be a slew of protests, debates and rallies on the matter in the coming months. With some kind of voting for the bill to be done in January. The next few months were going to be hell.

John is suddenly very glad he kept his mouth shut during the last conversation. Now, more than ever, no one can know his secret. There’s never been a more volatile time for his father. Henry would never forgive his son if he ruined this for him. No matter how much John wanted the bill to fail, he couldn’t be the one to step in its way.

“John you alright?” Madison questions, noticing his friend has fallen back from the group.

“Yeah, just tired. I need to make a quick call actually; you guys go on ahead.”

Burr must see a change in John’s expression because he looks worried as they walk away, leaving John alone in the lane. But his friends don’t verbally question it. Just wave him goodnight and tell him to get back to the dorms safe.

As soon as they’re out of sight, John takes out his ID. His legal age now stamped across it. He glances at his phone and sees it’s not even eleven yet.

Time for John to have his first legal drink.

The bar is loud and packed. There’re three different bars serving in the building, different bartenders at each one. No one notices Laurens as he makes his way around, getting a shot at each, a pint the second time around.

John’s too buzzed to notice it’s gone past midnight. Too dizzy to realise it’s the ten-year anniversary of the worst day of his life. It’s not the first year he’s been drunk for it, and it won’t be the last. Tonight however, he’s drinking his sorrow away for two reasons.

He gets kicked out around two in the morning as the place closes. His movements are sluggish and wobbly. He walks zig zagged down the walkways through campus. He reaches the dorms around three. He knows logically it shouldn’t have taken him an hour to get here. Maybe the five-minute sit down on the bench had been longer than he thought.

Or maybe the puking he’d done in some shrubbery had taken fifteen minutes to recover from, and not five. Whatever, John’s brain is too scattered to think straight. Not that it ever thinks straight. He giggles at his own joke as he unlocks the front door of the building and creeps upstairs to his room.

He grips onto the banister as he ascends and tomorrow, he’ll wonder how he made it up the stairs without falling to his death. Somehow, he makes it to his room in one piece.

Surprisingly, the lights are off and it’s dark. That soon changes when he walks nosily into his desk, letting out a yelp. The light on Hamilton’s desk flickers on and his roommate glares blearily at him.

“Are you drunk?” He questions the swaying John.

The question seems hilarious to John. As if it wasn’t obvious.

He laughs as he climbs into bed, just about kicking off his shows and throwing off his jeans and shirt. He usually sleeps in just his boxers anyways.

“Yup.” The word comes out louder than he means to, and it’s definitely slurred.

“Where even let you in?” Alex groans, sitting up in bed to analyse his inebriated roommate. Was he going to have to turn Laurens on his side? He really didn’t want to find himself in a murder investigation if John chokes on his own vomit during the night.

“Everywhere, I’m a man now.” John sounds tipsy as hell as he mumbles through his sentence.

“You’re 21 today?” Alex asks in disbelief. Alex wouldn’t even be twenty until February.

“Yesterday.” John is somehow sober enough to still be a smart ass.

“Take a year exploring the world or something between high school and college?” Hamilton finds himself asking, not sure why he’s even bothering to try have conversation with John. Maybe it’s because drunk John is much more bearable to talk to.

John nods softly, turning on his side and huddling under the covers, his face still to Alex’s side of the room. Alex can’t be sure if the man even understood his question though or is the nod an actual legitimate answer.

“Getting drunk on your 21st is terribly cliché Laurens.” Hamilton remarks, flicking his lamp off and pulling the covers back up around him. He needs to get back to sleep before he fully wakes up, otherwise he’ll be up most of the night.

“Not a cliché if it’s a tradition.” John mutters into his pillow, his words barely audible.

“You’ve made it a tradition to get drunk on your birthday?” Hamilton asks as he lets out a yawn, his hand slipping under his pillow to grip at its edge as he moves to lay on his stomach.

“The day after.” John corrects him “easier this way.”

“What way? Easier how?”

“…”

“John?”

His roommate doesn’t answer Alex though. After a couple of minutes, the sounds of snores fill the room, echoing around Alex as they do every night.

Why was what easier? What the hell was John even mumbling about. The mystery nags at Alex for a few minutes, but he’s too tired to really care. John’s also very drunk, he’s probably speaking in riddles that are just nonsense.

Hamilton doesn’t care why Laurens is drunk. He doesn’t care in the slightest. He especially doesn’t care when he gets out of bed to place a pillow behind his roommate after he hears shuffling and gets genuinely worried Laurens will turn on his back.

No, after all the articles he read and all the rants he had today about Henry and his disgusting bill…

Hamilton couldn’t give two shits about the guys son.

Chapter Text

John wakes up just a few hours after he’d fallen asleep. Light is just barely peeking through the blinds and the sunrise is dimly lighting up his room. He gazes at the shadows on the wall for a moment, pondering if he could go back to sleep until this day has passed.

His phone tells him it’s only about seven in the morning. He instantly regrets checking it though, because now blinding light is burning through his eyelids and setting off an explosion of pain across his forehead.

Right. He’d been drinking last night. The cotton mouth and the cold sweat suddenly make a lot more sense. He gently sits himself up in the bed. Instantly his vision blackens as his blood rushes to his head. It’s been a long time since he’s woken up after a night of drinking.

He’s not too badly hungover though. As he shivers his way out of bed and into the bathroom, he analyses his current state. They’re never like in the movies, hangovers. He’s not groaning and holding his head in agony, he’s just thirsty and feels like he’s grown a slimy second layer of skin.

He remedies both of these issues by downing a glass of water and dragging himself into the shower. The hot water washes away the layer of sweat and the stickiness of alcohol from his body. The shampoo gets rid of the specks of vomit in his hair and he grimaces as he remembers the shrubbery he’d ruined the night before.

Last night hadn’t been his proudest moment. Although given the day it is today, he could have done a lot worse. The memory of his sister’s text and the stupid article flitter back into his mind and John leans his forehead heavily against the cool tiles in the shower.

He steadies himself as the water trickles down the drain, the pressure in the dorms was nothing like his shower at home. As he flicks the shower off and hobbles out onto the tiles, he’s reminded that he also really missed the heated floor back home in his ensuite.

The mirror is fogged up from steam, so he doesn’t mind his reflection until he’s dried off and thrown on the jeans and shirt he’d brought in with him.

As the mirror clears, he brushes through his curly hair. He’s grown it out again. It’s just starting to reach his mid-way down his neck, the ends of some of the longer bits brushing against his shoulder as he tilts his head to the left and right.

He’s not bothered to spend time drying it, so John just swoops it back into a ponytail as per usual. It was starting to look bushy again, but John couldn’t find it in himself to cut it. His mother had always liked it long. She’d loved brushing it. His father had always wanted it shorter, more manly.

He shakes his head, watching the sad reflection of himself copy the movements. Today wasn’t about his father. It wasn’t about his bill or his opinions of John. Today wasn’t even about John. He wouldn’t be going to any classes, wouldn’t be working on any projects. Today was the one day of the year that was about her. The one day he really let himself think about her.

This year he’s travelling to the Devil's Lake State Park in Wisconsin, a whole six-hour drive away. It’ll be past midnight when he gets back here. Twelve hours of driving and he’ll need a few hours to explore, to draw, to find a gift shop.

He better get going.

----------------------------

Alex wakes up alone in his room. Somehow, the probably very hungover John Laurens, has beaten him to the shower. Or that’s what he thinks initially. However, a quick glance at the open bathroom door tells Hamilton his roommate has already left.

His bedside clocks blinks that it’s 8am, their lecture wasn’t for another hour. What on earth was John doing that he had to be gone so early? Maybe he was embarrassed from the night before? Whatever the reason, Hamilton gets about getting ready for their English lecture.

It’s strange not having Laurens in the room to tiptoe around and bump into. The room seems so much bigger when he’s alone in it. Perhaps, John had woken up early to visit the pharmacist, to get something for his head?

It’s only when Alex is stuffing his laptop and chargers into his college bag that he notices Laurens’ desk. His laptop and English book are left sitting on it. Why wouldn’t John bring them with him? His coat is gone, as his other usual stuff. Why would he run off for his lecture without the two most vital items for it?

He’s half a mind to bring them with him and drop them at John’s desk, wherever he’ll be. That is until Alex realises that this is John, not Lafayette, that he’s thinking of. Why on Earth would Hamilton go out of his way to do something like that for the forgetful idiot?

Alex feels a pang in his chest as he briefly remembers the sorry state Laurens had been in the night before. No. He wasn’t getting involved. Alex has more than enough to worry about.

For one thing, thanks to his roomie’s father, the Pride Society has some serious canvassing and protesting to do in the following months. Alex is better off pouring his thoughts and energy into that than worrying about John Laurens.

The sentiment makes him feel a bit better as he leaves his room, locking the door behind him. Lafayette is waiting on the staircase for him as usual and Alex forgets all about John as they chat and banter as they make their way across the campus.

The thoughts of Laurens only come catapulting back when Alex goes to make his usual sneer across the lecture hall at John. Only then does he notice Madison and Burr sitting by themselves, short a man.

Did Laurens hurt himself last night? Did he wake up and realise he needed to take a trip to the hospital? Or maybe it was a family thing. Maybe Laurens had to run off to some emergency. Hamilton only turns his attention back to the lecturer when he accidentally makes awkward eye contact with Burr.

Aaron Burr is a hard man for Alex to describe or give an opinion on. He likes the man sure, but every conversation with the man feels distant and unproductive. Like no matter how hard Alex tries to either get to know the man, or get to know his stances on topics, Burr will manage to deflect and keep himself aloof.

The rest of the lecture is filled with side glances across the room to see if Laurens shows up and dealing with the feeling of Burr’s gaze burning into the back of his head every time Alex is actually trying to listen and pay attention to the front of the room.

Lafayette is mid-rant about their English assignment’s deadline when Burr interrupts the pair. They’d just walked out of the lecture hall and were heading to the nearby café when Burr and Madison approach them.

“Hamilton.”

“Well if it isn’t Aaron Burr, sir.”

Aaron rolls his eyes at the formalities, giving Alex a measured look that was clearly insinuating to ‘stop being childish’.

“Always a pleasure Alexander. Tell me, do you’ve any idea why John wasn’t at this lecture.”

Alex isn’t sure he likes the tone that Burr uses on him. It comes off accusatory. As though Hamilton himself did something to throw Laurens off going to his first lecture of the week.

“How would Alex know? He’s hardly his PA.” Lafayette butts in. Obviously picking up on the same tone as Alexander.

“He is his roommate though. Was John sick this morning or something?” Madison enquires, his tone as even and calming as always.

Alex scoffs at such a question. The pair don’t seem impressed with the response.

“I’d be surprised if he wasn’t sick. He was a mess last night.” Alex tries hard not to, but his tone comes off incredibly smug as he folds his arms across his chest, a smirk now residing on his face.

The feeling is quickly wiped away though at the confused and worried looks on the men’s faces.

“What are you talking about Hamilton?” Burr questions, the use of his surname feels different coming from Burr.

“Well he stumbled in around three in the morning. Whatever party you lot were throwing for him must have been a wild one.”

The perturbed looks on their faces bring a chill to Alex’s stomach. Why did John’s best friends look like they had no idea what he was talking about.

“He was drunk when he got home?” Madison is biting the inside of his cheek while he waits for the answer.

“Yeah… didn’t one of you walk with him?”

The pair share a distressed look before turning back to Lafayette and himself.

“Thanks Alexander, you’ve been very helpful.” With the clearly dismissive adieu, the two men brush past Hamilton and towards another part of campus.

“With what? What happened last night?” Both Burr and Madison ignore Alex’s hollering. They don’t even hesitate in their determined marches.

Alex stares off at them for a moment before he notices Lafayette sizing him up. His half-brother has his arms crossed, an eyebrow raised, is leaning on one leg and looking very worriedly at Alexander.

“What?” Alex tightens his ponytail as he glances away from the, somewhat, intimidating scrutiny his brother was putting him under.

“Tell me mon petit lion, why you look so concerned about Mr John Laurens?” Laf wraps an arm around Alex’s shoulder as he speaks, looking smugly down at him.

“I do not.” Even to Hamilton his retort sounds defensive. Lafayette doesn’t even dignify it with a response, just leans down more so Alex is forced to look him in the eyes.

“Look, if Laurens is up to something, I want to know about it. For all I know he’s taken the day off to scheme or something.”

“Scheme?” Lafayette looks about ready to laugh.

“Yes!”

“I thought you two were passed your petit prank war.”

“We are! But-” Alex trails off, at a loss on how to defend the diluted point he’s trying to make. Laf is also giving him the ‘I know you too well, don’t even try and lie to me bitch’look. Any argument dies on Hamilton’s tongue.

“He seemed weird last night is all. Unsettled. I thought at least he’d been with friends…” Alex can’t look Lafayette in the eyes as he says it. As he admits to himself the real reason he’s been fixating on John all morning.

Lafayette lets out a groan at Alex’s admission, wiping a hand across his face and rubbing tiredly at his eyes.

“Mon ami, your heart is too big. I usually love your empathy but don’t let it fool you. You have made it very clear this John Laurens is not a good person. Don’t let his pain manipulate you.”

Alex sighs, playing with the zip of his hoodie as Lafayette rants. His friend was right. Alex may be worried, but that’s because Alex is a worrier. He hates to see anyone in trouble. Even someone like John Laurens.

“He has friends to worry about him.” Laf gestures to the road Madison and Burr have disappeared down. “You worry about your own stuff. Like how you haven’t eaten breakfast today!”

The comment gets a laugh out of the tense Hamilton. His body relaxes as Lafayette drags him towards a waffle shop on campus. His thoughts moving away from where John is and instead towards if he should get cream with his waffles or not.

The rest of the day is the usual blur of lectures and note taking. Laurens doesn’t show up to any of them and after acknowledging that fact, Alex lets his attention avert back to his studies.

His last lecture of the day is the only module he takes without Lafayette. Alex is just packing up his things as the professor wraps up his final point when he gets a text from the French man.

Going to be late out, wait by my car x

Car? Where did Laf think the two were going? They had a pride meeting on campus in an hour. Ah, of course, a meeting. Lafayette would be insistent he needs caffeine and will push for them to swing by the local Starbucks drive thru. Alex couldn’t understand the man’s obsession with the drinks there, Alex was more than happy with the drinks on campus.

He replies to Laf that he better not be too long as he makes his way out of the lecture hall and towards one of many car parks on campus. He finds Lafayette’s car in its normal spot and sits himself up on the hood, scrolling through news stories as he waits.

Another Henry Laurens headline catches his eye, something about a rally he was hosting today. Maybe that’s where Laurens had gone. The thought was nauseating, to think John might saunter back into their room tonight having listened and participated in such hateful preaching. Alex’s thumb hovers above the article, fully intending to read through it and come up with counter points for the content.

“Excuse me sir. What do you think you’re doing?” A gruff voice snaps Alex out of his theorizing. The sunlight silhouettes the shadowy shape of a buff man and after squinting at his phone for the last minute, it takes Alex a second to adjust and recognise who was speaking to him.

The man was pale, his white skin contrasted harshly against the all black outfit he was wearing. His hair was blonde and cut army style short. At first Alex is confused by the bulges popping out of the man’s clothing, but once the man steps out from the shade of a tree, it’s clear to see they’re pockets and holsters. The man speaking to him is in a full police uniform with an official badge on his breast to confirm it.

“Uh.” Alex is speechless for a moment, a rare occurrence. The question is so simple but seems so bizarre considering Alex was literally just sitting. He even glances around him, making sure it’s him the officer is questioning. It must be considering they’re the only ones around. That thought does nothing to ease the anxiety now knotting itself in Alex’s stomach.

“I’m just waiting for someone sir.” His eyes don’t leave the officers hands as he speaks. The larger man has one arm loosely hanging by his side, but his right hand is resting on his hip, just above his displayed pistol.

“Do you usually wait for your friends perched on someone else’s nice car?” The tone is quiet but stern. Alex’s brain is already going through the list of possibilities for how this scene looks. Or at least how it looks in the eyes of a white police officer in modern day America.

The car under Alex is nice. In fact, nice is too weak an adjective. The year-old BMW was Lafayette’s pride and joy. He’d bought it during their senior year of high school with the inheritance money he’d gotten from his parents will (Lafayette’s family had been extremely wealthy over in France.). It had cost more money than Hamilton’s mother had probably earned in her whole life.

Alex looks out of place sitting on it. He’s wearing his faded hoodie and scruffy fraying jeans. He probably looks like trouble with a capital T.

“Not my friend sir.” Hamilton makes sure to make an extra effort to be polite. “My half-brother. This is his car, I’m just waiting for him-”

“I’m going to have to ask you to get off the car bonnet.” The officer is walking closer now, he’s moved from the footpath to less than a metre from Alex.

Alex complies silently. Although he doesn’t want to, although his palms are starting to sweat, and his heart is starting to pound, the sound like a drum playing in his skull.

“Do you go here?” The cop interrogates him. The officer’s face is easy to read, and it currently reads as unimpressed. It’s like he’s not even hearing a word Alex is saying. His words mean nothing when the officer has already made up his mind on the immigrant in front of him.

“Yes Sir. I’m a law major.” The officer looks even less impressed.

“I’m sure then, you won’t mind showing me some identification. Like a student card.”

“Sir, have I done something wrong? Outside Kansas City, in this state, you can only ask for my ID if you believe I have committed a-”

“Don’t lecture me about the law boy. You think you know better than me?” The officer has gone from looking suspicious to peeved in a matter of seconds. For once, Alexander is regretting his inability to shut up.

“Sir, I’m just saying, I haven’t done anything wrong. It’s unlawful for you to-” Alex’s words die in his throat as in the blink of an eye, the barrel of a gun is pointing at his face.

The officer’s hand is shaking ever so slightly, his face is a mask of anger, and when Alex looks more closely, delight. Alex suddenly feels less like a human being, and more like a mouse being toyed with by a cat.

“I said. Show me your ID boy.”

“Why are you pointing a gun at me.” Alex’s hands are up framing his face. They were quaking beside him, the fear breaking through his voice’s façade of calmness.

“I felt threatened by your tone. Not to mention you’re disobeying an officer.”

Hamilton bites his tongue before he lets loose a list of reasons about why what the officer had just said was bullshit.

“Okay. Yes, yes sir. I have my student card on me. It’s in my back pocket. I’m going to reach for it now.”

Alex waits until the officer gives him a stiff nod before he reaches with his left hand for his card which he usually tucks away in his jean’s back pocket.

“Wait.”

Alex makes the mistake of looking away from the officer. He’d been watching his own arm as it was moving and trying to focus on doing it slowly and purposefully. Now he has to glance back up at him. Alex can see the smugness behind the cop’s watchful eye.

“Turn around. I suspect you might have a gun tucked in the back of your jeans.”

The accusation is absurd. Hamilton has done nothing to be suspect of carrying a gun.

“Sir there’s no gun. I don’t carry a-”

“I said turn around. Keep you hands up.” The officer’s voice is harsher now, more erratic. The cop is just getting more worked up the longer this goes on.

Alex swallows at the lump of frustration in his throat and slowly tuns around. His eyes are desperately scanning the car park but it’s still stubbornly empty.

“Lift up the back of your shirt.”

It’s not fair. He shouldn’t get to be humiliated like this. The officer would see the lump of a gun against Alex’s tight shirt if it was there. But Alex decides there’s no longer a point in resisting what this pig wants him to do.

Alex slows moves his hands down to the edge of his shirt and gently pulls it up to his lower back, clearly showing there’s nothing there.

“See officer, I’m not carrying anything.” Just as Hamilton thinks it’s safe to let go of his shirt and reach for his card, the officer moves.

Alex feels his breath get knocked out of him as he is shoved forward and into the car, his upper body is pushed down so his stomach is lying flat on the car’s bonnet and his cheek is pressed painfully against the warm metal.

“What’re you doing. I didn’t do anything. Let me up!” The pleas fall on deaf ears as Alex hears the distinct sound of metal clinking behind him and feels his wrists being pulled together.

“You can’t just arrest me for doing nothing. What’s your badge number? You can’t just do this.” Alex feels bile in the back of his throat, he thinks any second now he’ll vomit. The anxiety is kicking into next gear in his stomach and he feels light headed as he struggles to get his panicked breathing under control.

“I’m arresting you under the suspicion of joyriding and then of resisting an officer.”

The words sound distant as they hit Alex’s ears. Similar to how you hear things when you’re under water. The pressure on his back feels like more than the weight of another human being, the pressure makes Alex feel completely helpless. How can this be happening? He didn’t do anything. He was just sitting there. This isn’t meant to happen. He’s meant to be free in America.

“I told you. I wasn’t doing anything to the car. It’s my brothers.”

The officer acts like Alex’s words don’t reach him.

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can be held against you as evidence.” The officer sounds challenging as he rattles off the company line. This man would be more than happy to have Alex say something to get him in trouble.

“You’re making a mistake.” Alex hisses through his teeth as the officer hauls him up from the car, his hands now cuffed firmly behind him. The officer just sneers at him, fully intending to drag him to where ever he’d packed his squad car, when a voice calls his name.

“Alex! What’re you doing to him!”

Relief floods through Hamilton as Elizabeth Schuyler comes into view, sprinting around cars and towards the officer. The feeling is almost dizzying.

“You know this man miss?” The officer sounds annoyed as he takes in the, as usual, striking beauty of Elizabeth Schuyler. She’s in a gorgeous knee length green dress today, decorated with expensive jewellery and a fancy designer purse. She looks like the perfect rich Caucasian American woman.

“Of course, I know this man. What the hell are you arresting him for?” Her face is a mask of fury, just barely contained behind a barrier of composure. Alex can see through it though, can see the panic and worry in the lines of her face.

“He’s under suspicion for theft of a car Ma’am, quite a serious accusation.” The officer tries to sound confident as he gestures to the BMW beside them, but Alex is starting to hear the pinprick of regret in his tone. Not for messing with Hamilton but regret that he’s getting caught doing it.

“Theft?” She looks bewildered at the car and then at the officer. “You think he’s stealing his own brother’s car? What made you believe that?”

“Suspicious activity, he-”

“was just sitting on the car waiting for his brother.” Alex interrupts, getting the officer back for his earlier interruptions.

The officer pulls painfully at the cuffs in retaliation, making Alex straighten his back and let out a pained puff of air. Hamilton wasn’t out of the woods yet.

“I want you to release him immediately. I also want your name, badge number and department. You can bet I’m filing a report this evening on this horrendous behaviour. You should be utterly ashamed of yourself.”

“Ma’am he’s not going anywhere. I have no proof of this ‘brother’ of his” He says the word in disdain, as though it was impossible for Alex to have a brother that could afford such a car. “owning this car. All I have is a suspect looking suspicious around one of the most expensive vehicles currently on the road.”

Just as Eliza looks ready to explode at this cop, another voice pipes into the conversation.

“I guess monsieur you’ll have to allow me the pleasure of showing you my car registration papers and my driving license. I’m sure that will clear all this up.”

Lafayette looks practically murderous. His tone is light and steady but Alex notices his fists quivering by his sides, the way his jaw is locked and his eyes narrowed. The coldness of Lafayette as he unlocks and saunters towards his car is a shock to Alex’s system. He doesn’t remember ever seeing the other man so passively enraged.

The cop looks beyond vexed as Lafayette hands him the papers, their story matching up perfectly. Eventually the officer uncuffs him, although he leaves it for as long as possible. Alex isn’t sure why, but he sort of expects an apology from the other man. Not that it would make things better, but it just seems like the human thing to do when you get something so utterly wrong with regards to another human being.

Instead, the officer levels the three with an unnerving stare.

“Don’t let me catch you loitering around like this again. We have more important things as officers to be doing than dealing with fake situations like this.”

Alex wants to scream. Wants to punch this smug bastard across the face. Wants to push him up against the car with his arms locked and show him how it feels. He wants to post the face of this officer online, a stream of nasty comments beneath it with the guys work place on it for anyone on the internet to mess with.

Despite these feelings, Alex lets the man walk away. Hamilton even grabs Lafayette’s wrist when his half-brother goes to barrel after him once he’s said his closing remark. The taller man looks frantic when he glances down at Alex, as though he can’t understand why Alex isn’t egging him on. The tears on Hamilton’s face though, accompanied with the pained way he’s rubbing at his wrists, are enough to quiet the arguments on Lafayette’s lips.

Alex barely even notices Eliza embracing him in a hug as he begins to shake. He clings to her then, like a buoy in an unforgiving sea, he feels like he’s drowning.

“C’mon. Let’s get you inside.” Hamilton lets himself be led. He doesn’t know where his friends are taking him, and he doesn’t care. He just wants to put as much distance between this car park and himself as possible.

--------------------------------------------------------

It’s half eleven when John finally pulls into the college’s car park. Given it’s a Monday night, there’s no one around. He fiddles with his new snow globe.

It’s lake themed. It’s made up of all different shades of blues, whites and silvers. The inside is like looking through the bottom of a fresh water later. The sprinkles inside it are tiny little fish. It looks ridiculous, especially in the hands of a twenty-one-year-old. He handles it with more care than his phone as he packs it into his bag.

He climbs out of his car and drags himself towards the dorms. His legs sting and strain from muscle pain. The park had been filled with difficult terrain and steep inclines. He’d spent hours navigating his way around it. He’d definitely be feeling the consequences of his adventure for the next few days.

As he enters the lobby of the building, he decides to side-track to the kitchen to get himself a glass of water before he heads up stairs. The two recreational rooms and the lobby seating area are empty bar one or two students working away on laptops. The kitchen however is not so peaceful.

The first thing Laurens notices as he enters the large kitchen is the contemplating look on Jefferson’s face as he balances himself on one of the kitchen counters. Madison has his back to Jack so he can’t make out his expression, he’s leaning against the kitchen island, but Jack can clearly see Burr biting his lip nervously and scrolling through his phone, standing just off to the side of the other two.

“Maybe he-” Jefferson cuts off his sentence as his eyes land on Laurens standing sheepishly at the door. He may have accidentally ignored their numerous texts and calls throughout the day.

“Is right under our noses.” Jefferson finishes, crossing his arms and giving Jack a frightening look of disappointment.

Burr’s head snaps up at the same time that Madison spins around, both following Jefferson’s line of sight.

“John!” His name is exclaimed at the same moment from both men’s mouth, as they seem to both deflate in relief.

“Uh…hi.” He mumbles, looking away from them in favour of inspecting the tiled floor. Such an interesting pattern…

“Hi? That’s all you got. What, can’t even manage hello.” John winces at Jefferson’s tone. He deserves this. He knew his friends were worried, but he’d been so preoccupied with the day it was, he’d just abandoned them.

“Hello.” John tries again, now raising his gaze enough to look at the three.

Jefferson scoffs in disbelief, shaking his head at the shorter man.

“John where were you today? We were worried something had happened.” Madison questions, cutting off whatever sassy remark it looked like Jefferson was about to throw at him.

“I had a family thing to attend. Sorry I should have mentioned it before.”

It wasn’t strictly a lie. But it still felt like one when he was met with their concerned faces. They’d understand if he told them. Understand why he needed the space today. But then they might also ask questions. About her, about that night, about what happened a decade ago. They couldn’t know that. They’d hate him even more than Hamilton.

Speaking of the devil, just as Laurens is explaining himself to his friends, his roommate bursts past him and to the fridge. Jack only briefly glances at the man as he enters the room, but his face is stony and livid. Laurens is just glad he isn’t on the receiving end of it right now.

“A family thing?” Madison asks, “You couldn’t text at it?”

A reasonable question. But how does John answer?

“It…uh, it would have appeared rude. I’m sorry I meant to message back when I got into the car, but my phone died, and I couldn’t text when I was driving.” Again, not completely a lie. This day was about her, it would have been rude to text the guys. His phone did also die and have to be recharged. John was just… reshaping the truth.

Alex angrily slams the fridge shut as he leaves back the juice he’s been pouring for himself. Hamilton flies by them again without so much as a comment.

“What’s gotten into him?” Laurens muses when Hamilton is out of earshot.

“Really? You’re focusing on Hamilton right now.”

John realises it’s the first thing Burr has said so far. The man had looked the most emotionless during the conversation, but now that he has Jack’s attention, it’s clear his friend is pissed and tired.

“Sorry. For that, and for making you all worry. Really, I didn’t mean to. I didn’t think me disappearing for a day would seem so odd.”

“It’s not just that.” Burr snaps, his tone defensive. “Hamilton said you came home last night at three in the morning, plastered. He seemed to be under the impression you were with us.”

Oh. Now things made a lot more sense. John blinks owlishly at his now awaiting friends, all looking equally impatient for his response. So much for dealing with this himself.

“Yeah, I went to a bar last night when you all went home.” The truth was easy to speak, the truth of where he went anyways. He holds his breath as he answers, training his sight now on the cheesy kitchen knick knacks on the wall. He’s waiting for them to push.

“Why? Why didn’t you tell us?” Madison, always the one to ask the obvious questions.

What does he do? What does he say when he’s so afraid to tell them the truth?

“Well I’m the only one that’s twenty one so… I didn’t think it mattered.”

The lies pathetic, as is the execution of it. His voice sounds unsure even to his own ears and his friends look less than impressed.

“Bullshit.” Jefferson calls him out. Waltzing up to Jack and staring down into his eyes. “How about you stop lying for half a damn minute. Aren’t we meant to be your friends?”

Jefferson comes off as intimidating, but John can see the inkling of hurt behind his friend’s anger. Thomas is genuinely upset with him. The thought makes Lauren’s stomach twist as he notices the other two men sporting similar faces.

John slouches in defeat. He’d been standing with his shoulders and chest tense and heightened to try come across as more confident, but now he just feels tired. He’s been holding himself up for way too long today.

“Not here.” Jack almost whispers, rubbing a hand across his face. The orb of the snow globe digs into his back as he pulls at one of the straps on his shoulder. It’s oddly comforting.

Jefferson looks taken aback by how quickly John concedes but quickly moves into action. He drapes an arm around John and leads him to his shared room with Madison. The other two following behind.

The bedroom door slams shut behind the four and the sound seems to vibrate through John. His vision is starting to tunnel and stutter from the fatigue. Maybe that’s why he’s here. Maybe that’s why he’s willing to tell them. He’s so tired he feels drunk and when you’re drunk, you say all kinds of shit you shouldn’t.

He collapses onto one of the beds, sitting across it and resting his back against one of the walls as Madison and Burr sit on the edge of the bed across from him. Jefferson perches himself on one of their desks.

They’re all just staring at him, waiting for him to speak. They have no more questions… for now. They just want the truth.

“I always drink the night of my birthday. Or at least I have done so the last few years. I…I like to feel numb when midnight hits. I like to already feel detached from things come the day after my birthday.”

He glances at their faces when he says this. They look worried; interested; concerned. He hates it. So, he looks down at his lap. He’ll tell them. Not all of it. He can’t. He never can. But he’ll fairy tale the story a bit.

“My mother died ten years ago.” He doesn’t dare look at them when he says that. He knows all too well how pitying and sombre people like to look when he tells them.

“She died the morning after my 11th birthday. She was driving home and…” Here comes the lie. “Her car spun on some wet tarmac. It flipped into a ditch on the side of the road. The impact killed her instantly. It was about three in the morning when they think it happened.”

He hears the sharp intake of the breathes they make. He can feel the tension and sorrow in the air. He doesn’t dare stop for breath as he finishes his admission.

“So, every year I do my best to not think about it. I don’t want to look at the clock and think back to that night. Passing out has been my best solution to that.” He shrugs, hearing how pathetic it sounds. “I spend the day travelling then. I visit a new place, go on a new adventure. She always loved exploring. I spend the day doing something I think she’d like to be doing.”

The last admission is a lot. Even for Laurens. He can feel a weight flop off his chest as he says it though. He doesn’t think he’d ever told anyone this. He was always worried it’d sound stupid aloud. Even now he internally tenses up, throwing up walls and barricades so that if his friends make fun of this, make fun of him, he’ll be able to take it.

There’s a minute of silence. John doesn’t look up once during it, although he can feel their eyes on him. He can hear their mouths make noise as though they’re opening them to speak but they don’t say anything at first.

“John.” He looks up slowly, lifting his head just enough to see Burr leaning across the gap between the beds at him. “Thank you. For telling us. That’s a very personal thing you told us and…well I can only speak for myself, but I feel very honoured you could tell me that. I hope we didn’t push you too hard to admit it”

“Agreed. I’m sorry if you felt we were forcing you to tell us this. But I’m very grateful you did. It makes the day we spent worrying about you make a lot more sense.” Madison adds.

John stares at them a little dumbfounded. He was expecting them to push further, to ask more questions. To get angry maybe, that he had lied. To tell him it’s been ten years, that he should be over it. He’s waiting for a lot of things from them. He hasn’t been waiting for this.

He waits for the other shoe to drop, for their tone to change. When it doesn’t, he lets himself relax a fraction. He unclenches his fists; he hadn’t noticed he’d been diggings his nails into his palm until he feels the sting of his nails digging out from his skin.

“You’re uh… you’re not still mad then?” His voice sounds pathetic, even to him. It cracks at the end of his question which leaves John awkwardly clearing his throat as he wrenches his gaze away from Burr’s startled expression.

“Mad?” Burr sounds confused again.

John doesn’t know what to say next. How to voice how he’s used to people being mad, even when he’s explained himself. He’s used to people putting themselves first because John just isn’t as important to please or comfort. He’s not worth the same as others, not after what he did all those years ago.

“I’m mad.” Jefferson butts in, his tone cutting in the heavy air of the room.

“Thomas.” Madison warns, but the older man ignores him.

“I’m mad we all had to be worrying all day. I’m angry that we left you last night when you clearly needed people to have your back. I’m outraged this has been a yearly thing for you and most prominently, I’m furious that after the day you’ve had, we pushed you to tell us all this.” John is staring at the usually bubbly man in awe as he sits down beside John, their shoulders brushing off one another’s.

“But fuck John. The last thing any of us are, is mad at you.”

John doesn’t know how to respond. So, he stays silent. Or at least, as silent as someone can be when they’re crying, when they’re starting to sob and shake and suddenly it’s Jefferson’s arm around him and Burr’s hand rubbing his back and John has never felt so utterly vulnerable, so pathetic. He’s never felt like such a burden in all his life. He’s only known these guys for a few weeks. They shouldn’t have to put up with this shit. He’s being an awful selfish, self-entitled person. They should just ask him to leave.

But they don’t. They stay by his side. They stay while he unravels. None of them speaking or prodding or lecturing him. They’re just there.

John cries until he’s empty. He cries until his head aches and his throat throbs in pain. He doesn’t move from his position against Jefferson’s side. He’s too embarrassed to. He doesn’t know what to do next.

Maybe that’s why he lets the others join him on the bed. He lets them manhandle him until they’ve set up their miniature projector at their feet and are playing a movie on the wall across from them.

John couldn’t tell you what movie they watched. He couldn’t recite the comments anyone made about the acting, the plot or the premise. He couldn’t tell you what time he fell asleep or where he ended up closing his eyes.

The only thing he truly remembers about the night when he wakes up, is that he fell asleep feeling wanted.

Chapter Text

Tuesday is a blur for John. He gets back to his room the next morning, minutes before his first lecture is meant to start. Alex is long gone so he’s able to get washed and changed without issue.

He’s about ten minutes late to the lecture, but Burr’s kept a seat for him and even has a black coffee waiting on his desk. Laurens has never felt so grateful to have someone as a friend.

The rest of the day passes quickly. Lectures and lunch meld into one and then Laurens is spending the evening in the library with his friends. Burr and himself are grinding through their psychology bi-weekly test together. They do it one at a time so they can help each other with the multiple-choice questions.

The day takes it toll though. John’s muscles are aching from the day before from all his hiking and climbing. His eyes feel heavy to try keep open and his awareness meter is at an all time low. He’s running at fumes come 8pm. He can’t even muster a chuckle at Jefferson’s antics as they leave the library. After last night, his social meter is on empty.

Burr sees him to his room. It’s not too much of an inconvenience as they live on the same floor, but it’s the look Burr gives him that makes John feel guilty. His friend eyes him all the way to the door and until Laurens is out of view. John’s pretty sure his friend is paranoid now about John getting home safe. John really doesn’t want his friends to worry about him.

The lamps in the room are on surprisingly. John was sure Alexander would be at some event or social thing this evening. His roommate isn’t usually home before nine.

Yet, lounging on his bed with his headphones on and head gently nodding, is Hamilton.

As usual with his tunnel vision roommate, Alexander doesn’t acknowledge him as John sets himself up at his desk. He’d finished all his necessary work at the library, but John has missed a whole day of college. He needs to write up his notes from the lectures.

He internally face palms as he realises he meant to ask burr for his notes to get bullet points off him, but John had forgotten. Now he’s going to have to do up his own notes with just the power points and documents online. All those words, and lines, and small fonts. He tries not to overwhelm himself before he’s even begun trying to read them.

He takes the moment of unpacking to also place his new snow globe on his side of the windowsill. There’s just enough space for him to place it without going onto Alex’s side.

As he’s leaning over his bedside table to place it, Alex finally looks up and spots him. It’s sort of comical how shocked Hamilton always looks when he’s dragged out of his intense typing vomit. He always looks so startled.

John sits himself down in his desk chair and starts booting up his laptop as Alex pushes himself into a less slouched sitting position on his bed. He also pulls off his headphones and leaves them dangling around his neck, faint instrumental music is emitting from them.

“Enjoy your day out yesterday?” Hamilton snarls, the tone shocking Laurens.

It wasn’t unlike Alexander to come off as hostile in their conversations. But the pair had been working on their project just a few days ago and were starting to be on much better terms with one another. Why the sudden change?

“I’m sorry…what?” Laurens is at a loss by what Hamilton wants from him. How did Alexander even know he had gone somewhere for a ‘day out’.

Alex narrows his eyes in suspicion, his eyebrows bunching together as one side of his mouth quirks to the side.

“The news covered it all pretty well you know.” Laurens heart plummets to his chest. He can feel all the blood in his body drain to his toes as his throat seizes up. They couldn’t know, the media couldn’t have known where he was going or why. They couldn’t have worked it out, not after all these years.

“What…” John clears his throat, trying to get his sentence together. “What do you mean?”

His voice sounds hoarse and much quieter than normal. His pale complexion and the jitteriness of his now bouncing leg must be enough of a tell for Hamilton to see that he’s caught John out.

He raises his eyebrows in delight at seeing John looking so uncomfortable. Smug was the only way to describe the other man as he places his laptop on his bed and stands up in the middle of the room, towering over the sitting Laurens.

“They showed it all. The crowds, the speakers, the banners and even the delightful interviews of all the red neck hardcore Christians that attended.”

What. What is Hamilton talking about?

“All of yesterday’s news was breaking down the points of the rally. You must have been really proud of your father standing up there announcing all his plans of oppression to the adoring crowds.”

Oh. His father’s rally. Laurens had forgotten all about it. He’d been so preoccupied. But of course, now it was all out there. The whole world knew about his dad and his bill. John’s not sure how to reply to Hamilton. What he’s meant to say. He hadn’t even been at the damn thing.

“Alex, you got his all wrong.”

“Don’t.” Hamilton’s tone is biting and sharp. He points a finger at Laurens as he speaks. “Don’t you dare privilege-splain to me about your dad’s bill or his ideals. You can leave your bible quotes and bullshit at the front door.”

“Stop putting words in my mouth. It’s not fair that you keep-” Laurens stands up to face off against Alexander.

“What’s not fair is how your father thinks he can wretch away one of the biggest progressions for same-sex couples in this country. After all our years of fighting and protesting. He thinks he can just take that back from us, our greatest win.” Hamilton interrupts.

“Well I’m sorry if what my father does upsets you, but if you haven’t noticed. I’m not him.” John fires back, squaring his shoulders off against Hamilton as the two stand a step a part.

“No. You’re just his number one supporter.” Hamilton sneers.

“You think you know it all, don’t you?”

“I know enough.”

Laurens shakes his head at the smaller man, his hand itching to smack the smirk off his face. A chuckle escapes from Laurens mouth before he can even work out what’s funny.

“Must be nice living in your fantasy world Alex. Playing hero, running around thinking you’re the know it all protagonist. Do you ever get tired of hearing your own voice?”

“Shut up. You don’t know the first thing about me.”

“And yet you think you know everything about me. How about next time you get a stick up your ass about something, you find another villain to monologue at.”

The comment is not taken well by Hamilton. He sucks in a sharp breath as his hands ball up in an attempt to not strangle John.

“You wouldn’t know a villain if they were staring at you in the face. You think I live in a fantasy? Your world is so star spangled perfect that the toilets in your manor home probably hum the national anthem when you flush them. You wouldn’t know hardship if it slapped you in the face you privileged dickhead.”

Laurens snorts in response, letting out a chuckle that leaves Alex looking like he was slapped in the face. As John is shaking his head in clear disbelief at the disillusions Alex has about John’s life, Alex barrels on with this tirade.

“You’re so fucking untouchable that you could kill a man and the press would probably spin it that you were the one assaulted.”

The world spins in Lauren’s sight, his mouth tastes like muddied water and his ears ring louder than the bellowing coming from Hamilton. That comment hit too close to home.

Without realising what he’s doing John lunges forward, grabbing his roommate by the front of his t-shirt and pushing him back until Hamilton is pressed against his bedside table.

“You have no idea about the shit I go through. You think my daddy solves all my problems? You think my mother’s heritage doesn’t get me the same scrutiny you find yourself under in this country? You push me again Hamilton and I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Hamilton is glaring at him; his roommate had grabbed at Laurens hands as he shoved him but Alex isn’t making an attempt to push John off of him. Instead, he just looks reserved. He looks ready for John to swing at him…he might even want him to.

John just lets out a growl of frustration as an answer and shoves Hamilton again as he backs away from him and paces to the other side of the room, spinning back to face the other man as he reaches his desk.

“Not that it’s any of your fucking business. But if you’re going to be this insufferable for the next while because of you own shitty sherlock deductions. I wasn’t at my father’s rally.” As Alex opens his mouth to protest John holds a hand up to him.

“You don’t need to take my word for it. Like you said all those cameras, all those shots. You think they wouldn’t have had a whole piece on his eldest son being there?”

The doubt and hesitation on Alex’s face is nothing short of delightful.

“Then, where were you?” Hamilton eventually asks, looking a lot more deflated than when John had entered the room.

“Oh. Of course, it’s a little area called none, followed by, your business.” On that note John makes it his job to actively ignore Hamilton’s spluttering and protests as he unlocks his laptop and starts downloading his missed lectures.

Alexander stands glowering at him for another minute before he flops back onto his bed and continues whatever he had been working on.

The next two hours drag by with a thick tension in the room. It’s one of those tense atmospheres that you don’t even feel comfortable coughing or stretching in. Laurens spends the whole time rigidly clicking through his lecture slides.

It’s not easy either. Some of the slides have bare bone points on them and John has to sieve through convoluted documents that ramble on, just to make sense of some of the terms he’s meant to know about.

The first hour is fine, but come the end of the second and John’s brain is shutting off. He’s too tired to concentrate and now his sentences are jittery. The words and letters are becoming restless and it’s getting so bad John finds himself staring at the same line for a full minute before he realises none of the words make sense anymore.

He can’t do this. Resentment is building in his chest as his own eyes betray him. This is only the second module of four he’d missed from yesterday. If he can’t even get through the first two of them tonight, John’s going to be swamped for the rest of the week, trying to play catch up and continue with his classes.

He’s so irritated that he even forgets Hamilton is in the room. That his roommate has moved up to his desk, not even a foot or two from Laurens and that he’s watching him as John angrily slams his laptop shut and rests his tired head in his quivering hands. Not even his muscles can hold his head up anymore.

“Having some trouble?”

Laurens doesn’t even dignify the question with a response, just tilts his head to the left so he can glare seethingly at the smug bastard. Hamilton’s wearing his signature scrutinizing face though, not his smug one. His eyebrows are raised halfway to his hair line while his teeth chew thoughtfully at the inside of his bottom lip.

Hamilton doesn’t seem put off by Laurens death glare.

“Hey, mercy! I’m not mocking you.”

John sighs as he leans himself back so now, he’s slouching against the back of the desk chair. He spins the wheeled chair just enough so that’s John’s facing Hamilton rather than looking to the side.

“Sure, you’re not. Why do you care? I thought I couldn’t know ‘hardship’ so obviously I must be just peachy.”

Surprisingly Hamilton manages to look somewhat bashful as Laurens taunts his earlier rant.

“I may have gotten a little…carried away earlier, with my ranting. I had a bad run in yesterday with…” Hamilton pauses briefly, looking uncomfortable with what he’s saying.

“It doesn’t matter. I jumped to conclusions about the rally and I was just angry at something else. I shouldn’t have said all the things I said.”

He doesn’t actually say sorry, John muses. Yet somehow, in Alexander’s own way, this was an apology.

“You saying you don’t believe what you said?” John pushes, wanting to work out what Hamilton truly thinks of Laurens.

Alexander fiddles with the wire of his headset, loping it around his fingers and tugging gently on it as he does so. He looks unsure of how to answer.

“I’m saying regardless of what I think. It was wrong of me to just attack you with it.”

John tilts his head curiously at Hamilton. He tries to catch his eye to see if Laurens can get a better idea of what’s going on in Alex’s head, but Alex refuses to meet his gaze. There’s a pause in their conversation as both struggle for how to either continue or end it. John realises, he hasn’t answered the question that started this whole conversation.

“I missed all my lectures yesterday.”

He spins more towards his desk as he speaks, he doesn’t want to look at Hamilton as he admits this. A part of him doesn’t want to keep talking. He doesn’t want to give this asshole more fuel to use against him. Another part of him is beyond exhausted and knows Hamilton is possibly one of the smartest and most dedicated students in his course, he might just help John.

“I have to catch up by using the online power points, but most of them are useless and don’t explain anything. I’m struggling to understand most of it and then organise them into concise notes for the topics.”

Lauren’s refuses to look at him but Alexander is now leaning his head on one of his hands that’s resting on the armchair of his desk chair. His face is a mask of surprise, both from what John has admitted and also that John is telling him any of this.

“There’s some documents and source material in the online folders for the topics. They should fill in most of the blanks.”

Alexander is, surprisingly, trying to help his roommate who just seems to look more annoyed by his advice than grateful. John scratches at the back of neck before straightening up and responding.

“I know…I’ve tried to read them. But I can’t get through them.”

Alexander raises an eyebrow at the comment. John didn’t seem like the type to be discouraged by some hard work. He was always studying, nearly as much as Alex.

“I know they’re pretty boring and long winded, but it’s only a few lectures. Surely you can suck it up and just read through them quickly to find the information.”

“No, it’s not…you don’t understand.”

John looks weary as he spits out the words. He treats the complaining like it’s painful, tiresome. Alexander gets the impression there’s something more to this issue.

“The words. When they’re in that small font, when they’re so bunched together and endless…I mean even when they’re not like that it’s hard! But with these documents…they won’t stop moving. They keep rearranging and the letters keep changing and I can’t work out what any of it is saying.”

Alex is stunned. I mean, it’s not an uncommon issue for people. He’d known plenty of people in high school that struggled with the same issue. He just never would have imagined John Laurens was someone who suffered from it. The man had seemed untouchable once Alexander discovered who he was.

“You’re dyslexic.”

The gentle rose blush across Lauren’s cheeks and the way he bitterly nods his head is enough confirmation for Hamilton.

“I usually record the lectures I go to, so that I can listen back later when I’m writing up notes for the PowerPoints. But obviously if I miss the lecture, I miss any chance of doing that.”

Recordings. Suddenly all the times Alex had rolled his eyes when he heard podcasts blaring through John’s ears as he studied made a lot more sense.

“What’s your e-mail?”

“What?” The question is the last thing John is expecting from Alexander.

“Your e-mail?”

John must be in a state of shock because he rattles off his college e-mail without another remark. He watches curiously as Alexander ignores him in favour of going through his e-mail and typing up some sort of message.

Laurens reopens his slammed laptop and clicks into his e-mail as he notices Alexander clicking through several things on the screen. After a minute of silence Lauren’s gets a ping on his laptop, notifying him of a new message.

There’s no subject but the e-mail is from an A.Hamilton. There’re several documents attached and as Laurens clicks the first one, he realises they’re all Alex’s notes from the day before. Everything he’d typed up in the lecture and then polished up on afterwards with more material.

“You- You didn’t have to.” John points out, his voice gentle, like he’s afraid it’ll crack if he speaks too loudly. He says it as nonchalantly as possible, but internally he’s freaking out. Relief is flooding through him as hours of agony are washed away before him.

“No. I also didn’t have to bite you head off earlier. The joys of being my roommate.” Laurens snorts at the comment, realising a second after that it’s the first time John has ever laughed with Hamilton, instead of at him.

“Thank you, Alex. This… means a lot.”

As John finally has the courage to glance over at his roommate, he realises Alexander is now purposely looking anywhere but at Laurens. A blush has creeped its way up Hamilton’s neck and is staining his ears and face.

“We’re even now. No need for thanks.”

Laurens would think Alex looks adorable right now, if he didn’t hate the guy most of the time. People can do nice things for you, that doesn’t mean they’re a nice person. John knew all about people like that.

John nods in response, seeming to end the conversation. They don’t talk for the rest of the night. Which is kind of nice. They get ready for bed in silence, no fighting or groaning at one another. No complaining about the state of the room or any messes in the bathroom. For once, they’re in harmony. Laurens even lets it go when he notices Alexander staring at his new snow globe before they both climb into bed. Luckily Alex doesn’t ask about it.

As Laurens clicks off his lamp and submits them to darkness, he hears a voice calling out from the other side of the room, for the first time in the six weeks he’s been living in this room.

“Goodnight Laurens.”

“Goodnight Hamilton”

John has no trouble getting to sleep that night.

Chapter Text

Wednesday is a blessing. John’s lectures seem easier than usual and all the studying he’s been doing is finally starting to pay off. He can keep up with all the new topics and even ask the lecturer more complex questions at the end of classes.

Lunchtime is filled with the usual messing around with Jefferson. Madison and Burr have resigned themselves to being friends with them and having to deal with the two of them and their usual lunch time banter.

Today, Jefferson and John are arguing about time travel and if it would be more interesting to travel backwards or forwards in time.

“You’re telling me you don’t want to see what technology is going to look like 20 years from now?” Jefferson exclaims, wildly waving a fry around to emphasis his opinion.

“Why? I’m going to see that anyways in 20 years’ time. Not to mention all I’ll probably witness is the release of the IPhone 100 series or something like that.” John replies, crossing his arms as he waits for Jefferson’s response.

“Okay. But why even go back in time? You might just mess things up. Plus, we already have history books. We know what happened. The future is an unknown! So much more exciting.”

“We know what people who wrote those books want us to know. We’ll never truly know the past unless we can go back and live it. Imagine all the great events you could witness!”

“The plague.” Burr chimes in, ever the optimist.

“Or perhaps you’d rather wrestle with the dinosaurs John.” Now even Madison is teasing him.

“You guys suck.” He groans, pushing away his tray after finishing the last of his fries.

“Hey, don’t hate the players, hate the debate.” Jefferson grins at him, starting to pick up his own rubbish.

They walk through the campus together towards their last lecture of the day. It’s clear from the lane ways that Autumn is truly in full swing.

The footpaths are blanketed with dying and brittle leaves that crunch under their feet as they wrap scarfs around their neck more tightly and start draping jackets over their summer outfits. By next week John is sure he’ll be seeing jack-o-lanterns and other Halloween decorations. He wasn’t sure how the college welcomed the holiday, but he has a feeling it’ll be very much in your face.

“You guys up for some smash bros tonight? I finished my essay yesterday so I can head to the recreational room early and snag us the console.” Jefferson asks them as they get out of the winds of autumn and into another stuffy lecture hall.

The other two are quick to agree to the plan but John must decline.

“Sorry, I got drawing this evening.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes playfully at him.

“I suppose we’ll have to make do without Picasso then.”

John laughs at that. As if John could be compared to any of the greats, he only drew passively. He’s never been very good at it.

“I guess you will. It’ll give you lot a chance to get better at the game without me kicking your butts.”

The comment gets him booed by his friends and playfully smacked by Jefferson just as the lecturer grabs their attention and they have to start their note taking.

----------------

Laurens hates being late for anything.

It’s probably a reflex he’s built over the years with having to attend political events and parties with his father. His father always said it was a reflection on the entire family if one of them appeared tardy or unkept.

The result of this was John feeling like shit when he eventually slips into the art room. His two art friends Sandra and Lily obviously had thought he wasn’t coming because his usual seat isn’t saved. They give him an apologetic look from across the room, but he just waves them off with a fake grin and finds the last free easel.

They didn’t always use easels. Some weeks they’d just sit around in large groups and sketch on desks, some weeks they have prompts and topics. This week was more specific. They were going to be doing some portrait work.

John just sort of assumes there will be models sitting in for them to sketch, or that they’d just end up doing self-portraits. He didn’t think much about it while he was setting up his paints, he’s favouring acrylics this week over oil. Just as he’s squeezing out some primary colours, the art director of the society comes to the top of the room.

“Okay folks! Portraits. One of hardest pieces of art to do, or at least the most dangerous! An artist can never be too careful about getting someone’s good side.” A couple of chuckles and giggles echo around the room.

“For this week’s project we wanted to make things more personal, to add some bonding time to our society event this week. So, you lot will be paired off for the next three hours and drawing one another, meaning you each get to take home with you a portrait of yourself.”

An interesting concept. John’s never modeled before, but he guesses it won’t be too awkward considering he’ll be focused on drawing the other person. He silently hopes he gets a man to draw, women’s hair can be hard to detail.

Almost as though the director was reading his mind, she starts pointing around the room and pairing people off. Laurens really should have been more careful where he sat, any other week and this wouldn’t have happened. Any other week he would have been the other side of the room. He never would have sat near…

“Laurens and Lafayette, you two can pair up.”

It’s tough for John to even turn his head and make eye contact with the French man. He quickly finds himself on the end of an unimpressed and withering glare. The next three hours were going to be a delight… not.

The two of them silently set up their easels so they’re facing one another and then they both awkwardly stare at each other, unsure of what they should say and how to begin.

“My best advice to you lot is to start off by doing fifteen minutes each of sketching while the other person models. It’ll give you a chance to get a foundation and then you can do touch ups as you both work away.”

Another stiff moment of silence passes between the pair as the rest of the room seems to erupt into chatter, nervous giggling and sketching sounds. John briefly clears his throat as Lafayette raises a waiting brow at him.

“Would you like to sketch or model fist?” John keeps his voice as level and polite as he can. His efforts might as well be in vain though as he just receives a scoff from the taller man.

“I will sketch.”

That’s as much as John gets out of him as he sits there for the next fifteen minutes as Lafayette scratches away at his sheet of paper. Laurens does his best not to fiddle as the time passes agonisingly slowly. He’s never been a fan of being stared at.

It doesn’t help that every glance Lafayette throws at him is filled with scrutiny and disgust. John couldn’t help but start to think about his weirdly shaped nose, or the fact that his eyes were just a little too far apart. Although, after ten minutes when the harder sketches come into play, Lafayette just starts to look focused. He begins looking more at John as a puzzle, rather than dirt. A slight improvement.

“Alright. You may sketch.”

The words are sharp and somewhat rude, but John allows for the fact that English is not the man’s first language and instead of starting a fight begins his own sketch.

Lafayette doesn’t have the easiest hair to sketch, but it’s fun trying to sketch it and line some of it up for later detailing. Lafayette grins briefly at something across the room and John catches the moment in his mind. The dazzling smile was much more interesting to sketch than the frown the man wears for most of the process.

John mightn’t have the best opinion of the other man, but damn is Lafayette handsome. John tries not to blush as the thought creeps through his head. This guy hates him, he reminds himself, this is no time to ogle.

After fifteen minutes John has the roughest of rough sketches and he gently nods at Lafayette that he can move again. Without another word the two go back to their work. After ten more minutes, the constant staring at one another becomes less and less weird as they get engrossed in their work.

It’s not until an hour in when either of them makes another sound. Lafayette rubs angrily at something he’s drawn and slouches on his stool. He’s staring at John angrily as he chews at the bottom of his pencil. For once, it’s not John the man seems to be angry with.

“Why won’t it look right.”

It takes John’s brain a moment to realise that Lafayette is speaking in his native tongue, French. Laurens is fluent in the language, has been for years, but it has been months since someone has spoken it so fluently around him. He’s surprised he could translate it so quickly.

“Is there a problem with my face?” John isn’t sure where his confidence or tone comes from, but he’s pretty sure he just poked fun at one of his mortal enemies.

Lafayette’s eyebrow raises in disbelief as he seems to choke on some of his own spit. He straightens in his stool, leaning on his knees as he stares at John, more analysing than when he’d been sketching him.

“You speak French?”

“Well, yes? It might be a little…” He wracks his brain as he struggles to find the word. “rusty.”

“No, no. It’s very good! There’re so few people in America who speak it so well. It’s so nice to...” Lafayette seems so thrilled and relieved to be speaking French, that it takes the man a moment to realise who he’s speaking to. Instantly the joy seems to wash off his face as his shoulder muscles tighten up and he contains the emotion on his face. Lafayette clears his throat.

“I should get back to this.” He speaks in English again, as though French has betrayed him.

“Were you struggling with something?” Laurens sighs, wondering if trying to help the man will just get his head eaten off.

Lafayette does give him the side eye as he listens to the question. The man looks ready to deny it, but a quick glance back to his work and he just sighs.

“Your hair is quite curly. It’s hard to make it look…” He trails off, waving a finger loosely at John’s hair as he tries to come up with a word. John knows what he’s talking about before he even voices it, John had the same problem himself back in high school when he had to do a self-portrait.

“not flat?” John hopes the French may appeal to Lafayette’s good side. The French man seems to narrow his eyes untrustingly but reluctantly nods his head.

John pulls a sketch book out of his bag and lays it on his knees. They weren’t meant to look at the portraits until the end, so he does a quick two-minute tutorial for Lafayette to show him how he draws curls and how he approached drawing his own when he had to.

Lafayette nods along and slowly tries to repeat the process on his own sheet. It’s not as flawless or easy as John makes it look but slowly, he manages to craft the hairline the way he wants it to look.

Lafayette gets so focused on the task that he forgets to thank John for his help. By the time he thinks of it, Laurens is fully focused on his own piece. Lafayette stares at the man briefly, watching the way he bites at his lip as he concentrates. How his eyebrows furrow and his hand keep instinctually pushing the same strand of hair behind his ear.

John Laurens looks so peaceful like this; he looks like a sweet young man. The way he helped Lafayette made him seem beyond polite, it was something John did because he seemed like he wanted to genuinely help. Any other person and Lafayette would have given him a chance.

Even after knowing who his father is, Lafayette might have given him the chance. But the broken looking Hamilton that waltzed into his room just a few weeks ago sobbing about the message on his door is so burned into Laf’s mind, that he could never show kindness to someone like John Laurens.

It’s not long before the pair are picking up paintbrushes and working on the colouring and shading of their works. As opposite as always, John uses his acrylics while Lafayette favours oil paint.

There’s still close to an hour and a half left in the session when John feels his brain start to wander. The chatter in the room is intense and he feels like he’s going insane with how much he’s been silently staring at the other man. He decides, despite their less than stellar conversation earlier, to give it another go.

“Do you paint often?” John asks the questions in English; he gets the impression Lafayette is uneasy now about John’s ease at speaking French.

Lafayette tenses before answering, the hand holding his paint brush wavering at the edge of his art piece.

“I am at a club for it, am I not?” The tone is guarded, but John takes any answer as a win.

“Right… I just meant is painting you medium. Or do you prefer digital or pencils or something?”

Lafayette ponders the question for a while. He mixes some dark colours together, John presumes it’s for his hair, before he levels John with an unreadable expression.

“Digital preferably. I do not like making mistakes I cannot fix.” The answer seems double handed, but John ignores the sub text and just nods his head in agreement. He could understand that.

John goes back to shading along the jawline of the other man, before Lafayette surprises him with his own question.

“And you? What do you prefer John Laurens?” Laurens briefly wonders how the other man can make his own question sound so threatening.

“I like chalk. It’s messy… and it’s very easy to make mistakes. But it gives you a style that’s hard to copy with the other mediums.”

Lafayette is an extremely tough person to gauge, but John optimistically believes the French man seems a bit impressed. John has definitely given him an answer he wasn’t expecting.

John doesn’t really know how to keep up the conversation, but somehow the two manage to stammer through the odd polite questions and comments over the next hour.

They stick to safe topics. John tells him how he learnt French as a third language from a private tutor growing up. Lafayette tells him about his own English tutor and how hard it was to move to America and speak only English most of the time. They speak a good bit about France. John has visited it twice and so they trade opinions on the country and how it differs from America.

In the last half an hour though, they fall silent as they both struggle to finish their pieces. John starts to doubt himself as he finishes his off. He didn’t do a traditional piece, looking around him he notices the portraits he can see are done in a very realistic style. The colouring, the sketches, all look like photographs. He bites his lip as he suddenly worries that Lafayette might take offense to how he treated the task. Maybe the French man will hate it and thus hate John even further.

For some reason, glancing again at Lafayette, even though john no longer needs to study him, the thought of the man despising him hurts. It hurts just a little more than it did before they’d had this experience.

Eventually, the clock rings and their time is up. John finishes by flourishing the bottom right of the portrait with his signature. He feels his mouth dry as Lafayette and himself stand up and go to look at each other’s piece. John has been so worried about whether Lafayette will like his or not, that he forgot to be nervous about his own portrait.

As he makes his way to the front of the easel however, he needn’t have worried. Lafayette is clearly very talented. The French man has added a touch of his own style to the piece. The painting is uncanny, John can see all his standout features present. His hair is spot on, his countless freckles, and even the small scar he has on his right cheekbone is faintly present.

Lafayette took the posture of when he was sitting at the beginning but added a thoughtful expression to his face. He probably took it from when John was focusing on his work. His eyebrows are hunched more together, and his lips are slightly pursed. He made him look older, more like a college student.

What makes the painting unique though, is that instead of modern colouring that makes a painting look like a photograph, Lafayette has made it look older. The colours are darker and the shadows tinge with golds and greens. It reminds John of old renaissance paintings. Laurens has never loved a portrait of himself more.

John’s thoughts are ripped away as he hears Lafayette suck a quick breath in as he turns and gets a view of John’s work.

Laurens could never do plain and simple when it comes to art. He always liked to add flavour to his pieces. His own artwork of Lafayette was sketched simply, the man grinning and looking at ease. The colouring however was a different story.

The vibrance that Lafayette emits when he smiles is pure colour. It’s like a dazzling rainbow, impossible to miss. John has tried to capture that with paints. Instead of the usual whites and blacks for highlights and shadows, John replaced them with different neon shades.

It weaves colour through the piece and gives it a much more abstract feel. John might have taken that even a step further with Laf’s hair. He’d started off just drawing the pulled back, ponytailed hair as the plain black it was, but a slip of some white paint and John may have left the hair looking like a galaxy. The neon colours from the rest of the work blend into the hairline and match up with the colours dotted throughout the galaxy.

Depending on how you look at the piece, one moment it may be a person, the next moment a snapshot of deep space.

The concept seems convoluted now though. Lafayette is staring at the easel incredulously, like he can’t comprehend what he’s witnessing. He hates it. Laurens wonders briefly if there’s a way to get kicked out of this club, like if you insult someone enough with a terrible painting.

“This is incredible.” John wonders if maybe he has forgotten all his French, because he’s pretty sure Lafayette just complimented his work.

“John… I am at a loss for words. How did you…the colours are superb! So original, I did not take you for someone with such a style.” Lafayette seems to ramble as he gestures helplessly at the work. “I wasn’t even smiling; how did you add it?”

“When I was finishing the sketch, you smiled at something across the room. I just sort of stole the expression. I hope you don’t mind.” John’s scratching the back of his neck before he can stop himself.< p/>

“Mind? Non, non. It…I mean I- I adore it. Truly.”

John can’t stop the blush that creeps up his neck and blossoms across his face, he wasn’t used to such intense and genuine praise for his work.

“Are you happy?” Lafayette gestures to his own work.

“Oh, oh yes! No, it’s stunning too. I look…well I look like a very sophisticated college student.”

They both laugh at the statement before they think that they shouldn’t be laughing together. That they shouldn’t be having this moment.

Almost as if they think the same thought, Laurens looks a bit more warily at Lafayette, just as the taller man nibbles thoughtfully at his bottom lip.

“Alright guys! Time to clean up our supplies. Don’t forget to take your gifts home with you and thank your fellow artists.”

John and Lafayette quickly clean up their brushes and plates. They pack away their own paints in silence and pass each other their work gently, both cradling the pieces like new treasures.

“John.” The use of his first name is a bit jarring coming from Lafayette, but Laurens turns his head anyways. “Where are you heading now?”

Okay, John was not expecting that question.

“Uh, the rec room in the dorms probably, if my friends are still there.” Lafayette nods like it’s an acceptable answer and motions towards the door.

“I am also heading to the dorms, walk with me?”

Laurens just nods dumbly as he lets Lafayette hold the door open for him as they’re one of the last to leave the art room. With how late it is into October, the sky is already pitch black as they walk through the quiet campus.

John has no idea what to say to the other man, no idea why they were even walking together. What happened to angry glares as they pass in the halls and blatantly ignoring one another.

“May I ask you a question?”

“I think you just did.”

Lafayette somehow can express both joy and disgust at John’s reply as he scoffs down at the shorter man.

“Sorry, yeah go ahead.” John stuffs his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket so Lafayette can’t seem him anxiously fiddle with them.

Despite the encouragement, the French man seems tongue tied for a minute. They’re only a couple minutes from the dorms, but he seems to struggle with phrasing his question.

“Sometimes John, you seem like a… decent person.”

John isn’t sure if he should be offended or not. What does that even mean?

“Thank you?” Lafayette groans a bit as he realises how it sounds.

“Would asking me in French help?” Laurens offers, getting more intrigued by the second.

Lafayette shakes his head though, a shadow passing across his face as he meets John’s eyes. They’ve stopped walking. They’re now standing just off to the edge of a lamp light; they’re partially washed in its white light and partially drenched by shadows. The warmth from the man seems to vanish as he puffs out his chest and sneers down at John.

“Why did you write that horrible thing on your door? Did you believe in it? Find it humorous or amusing? I know you and Alex enjoyed hurting each other with pranks the first few weeks, but did you honestly see it as a prank and not a hateful disgusting thing?”

Lafayette’s accent gets thicker when he’s angry. That’s the first thing John takes away from the question. The second is that, having been distracted by his most prized possessions dangling from his bedroom ceiling, John had never actually cleared up that he didn’t write on their whiteboard. That he hadn’t used the word faggot or called Alex it by any means. Suddenly Lafayette’s hostility through the evening made a lot more sense.

“Um, about that-” John is about to explain everything. From the confusion, to Lee, to the fact that John was in fact, not homophobic. But speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

“John? I thought that was you. Are you bothering my friend here Frenchy?” Lee’s voice cuts through the silent lane, the man had completely snuck up on the pair when they’d stopped.

“Charles, hey. No he’s not-”

“How about you piss off Lee. Two adults are having a conversation here.” Apparently, Lafayette’s tone with John this evening wasn’t a fraction of how hateful and disgusted the man could sound. It seems he saves this level of hostility for Lee.

Charles sneers up at Lafayette as he crosses his arms and stands just a bit too close to John for his own comfort. His brow raises expressing some form of amusement. For the first time since university started, his goons aren’t with him.

“Really? As I see it, it’s some low-life immigrant sinner cornering my dear friend in the dark on campus. Not a great sight for you is it?”

“Charles, that’s not-” John tries to deescalate the situation, tries to go back to the moment where he was going to make everything better, not worse.

“Funny Charles, all I see is a slimy, daddy’s boy coward standing before me.” For a split-second Laurens assumes Lafayette is talking about him, before he realises the insult is aimed at Lee. The pair seem to have forgotten Laurens is there.

Lee lets out a chuckle at the comment before he brings his hands behind him and clenches them against his lower back.

“A coward huh? Think what you want Lafayette, but at least I’m not some pathetic cry baby. I heard Hamilton was a mess after my little present.” Lafayette tenses up at the mention of his half-brother. His hands balling up into fists.

“Present?” Lafayette’s tone is strained, like he’s holding himself back from starting a yelling match.

“Yes, p-r-e-s-e-n-t.” Lee exaggerates the word, clearly mocking Lafayette’s ability to speak English. “Oh, of course, I heard you and your other pal didn’t get to see it. Here, I even have it as my lock screen.”

Laurens can feel the blood draining from his face. The picture had been enough to turn his blood cold, he knew it was going to hit Lafayette a lot harder. As predicted the taller man squares up at the phone, his face morphing from horror to fury in a split second.

“You disgusting, vile piece of human dirt.”

John watches the swing of Lafayette’s fist coming in slow motion. It’s on a clear path to impact Lee’s jaw, the guy deserves it, but Laurens works out in split second that if Lafayette punches Lee, he’ll live to regret it.

In a flash, the years of self-defence classes his dad put him through to ‘toughen’ him up, come in handy. John manages to reach forward in a single step and bring up his forearm just quick enough to block Lafayette’s hit and push the French man back a step.

The look of betrayal on Lafayette’s face is painful. The other man doesn’t even look that furious anymore, just hurt. Laurens wants to blurt out that punching Lee would be a mistake, that the guy’s dad pays thousands, if not millions to the university and anyone who messes with his son will probably end up getting expelled, at best. At worst, sued for thousands and charged with physical assault.

Instead, Lafayette speaks up first.

“You knew about that, didn’t you?” Lafayette gestures to the image on Lee’s phone.

Charles is grinning now, patting John on the back and winking at Lafayette over his shoulder. The question is difficult to answer, because John did know. He just found out after the fact.

“Of course John knew! He’s a man with a great sense of humour.”

John winces slightly at the comment, he’s sure he looks ashamed right now. He feels ashamed, he feels wronged. He should have cleared this all up sooner with Alex, the day he found out about it. Now, no matter what he says, it’ll look like he’s just covering his own ass and lying through his teeth.

Lafayette just shakes his head at the two of them, a look of pure distaste across his face. He turns from the pair without another word. His steps are brisk and long as he puts as much space between Laurens and himself as possible.

John opens his mouth to call for him, but closes it as he realises that he doesn’t know what magical collection of sentences could possibly dig him out of this mess. He can't imagine the atmosphere that will a wait him back in his room tonight.

Chapter Text

John was right about college and Halloween. The week leading up to the holiday is filled with orange and black decorations, pumpkin flavoured café drinks and cheap costumes. Not to mention the dorms are filled with cheap decorations and movement sensing nightmare animatronics. The Frankenstein by the front doorway scared the crap out of Laurens the first day he walked by it, when a laugh erupted from the monstrosity and it’s eyes lit up red and yellow.

Despite John’s least favourite holiday approaching, his last two weeks have been filled with some great moments with his friends… and some terribly awkward ones with Hamilton. Ever since John’s day with Lafayette, Hamilton has been completely cold with John. He’s not even angry or passive aggressive anymore, just chilly. They work on their project together at least four hours a week, but they never once go off topic. It’s very professional and proper…John hates it.

He’s tried a few nights to think up a speech strong enough to convince Alexander of his innocence with the white board incident. But his prepping always circles back to the fact that he’d have to admit a lot to Alexander to have the other man believe him. There is certain secrets John just isn’t ready to give up yet. So, he lets the chasm between them grow.

“I just, I don’t know what to do. She’s gorgeous, she’s smart, she’s funny… I sound like an idiot, don’t I?”

John laughs kindly at Burr as he rambles on about his new favourite topic… or should John say, favourite person.

“No. What you sound like, is a lovesick puppy.”

“I know, I know. I wish I could do something.” Burr groans, rubbing a hand across his face as they take a shortcut across a patch of grass. They’re on their way to the weekly meet of the college’s debate club.

“You can. It’s called talking to her.”

“She has a boyfriend.”

“Exactly, they’re hardly married. You still have a chance!”

Burr gives him a look that’s both disgusted and pained.

“That’s hardly a gentlemen’s move.”

“Gentlemen don’t get the worm…or something.”

Burr cracks up at John’s awful attempt at giving advice. Laurens really is the last person that should be giving out love advice. He’s never even had his own stable romantic relationship, just a string of flings and one-night stands. Still, his friend has been in agony the last two weeks over this girl.

“I’m starting to see why you’re single John.”

“Wow, low blow coming from the guy pining over a taken woman.”

The comment earns John a very rare smack on the arm.

“Aaron being violent? Laurens what scandal have you pulled off?”

Jefferson and Madison are waiting for them by the front entrance to the building.

“Witty as always Thomas.” Burr grumbles, marching into the building and away from his cackling friends.

The group take their usual seats in the classroom the club uses, and Angelica writes up the two prompts for the evening on a whiteboard.

“Hey guys, so this week Room A will be taking the topic ‘Healthcare needs more funding than education’. Room B will be, as always, a relevant political topic, this week it’s ‘Same-sex marriage needs to be legalised this year’. As always you guys have five minutes to pick a room and if you’d like to debate for or against the motion.”

Laurens misses the stink eye Hamilton sends him across the room as Jefferson grabs his arm and begins chattering at full rant.

“This is perfect man! Both our fathers are currently debating this. We can nail the debate this week. We have to partner up.” Laurens doesn’t know how to look at Jefferson’s puppy dog face and tell him no.

“I- I don’t think that’s a good idea. My dad and I have quite different opinions and…”

“Oh c’mon John, please! I’ve never asked you to debate with me before, it’ll be fun.”

Burr sends him a sympathetic look over Jefferson’s shoulder. He’d been bribed into debating with Thomas last week. Jefferson was an excellent debater, he just often got excited when he spoke and ended up getting quite competitive. Madison is usually the only one who can deal with it.

However, James is already speaking with another girl from the club about healthcare funding and John realises he’s a lost cause.

“Fine. But I won’t be any good. honest.”

“Lies. I’ve seen you debate. You’re excellent.”

John knows he’s pretty good, his dad has forced him to debate competitively since he was in elementary school. But usually, he’s picking a side and topic he actually wants to debate.

As they both get up to head for the room, John notices Hamilton and Mulligans also heading to that room. Great. The first week they’d be debating in the same room and this would be the topic.

“Aaron you’re going to debate this topic too?” John hadn’t even noticed his friend is joining them until Jefferson points him out.

“Oh no. I just want to witness this.” Laurens glares at the smug look on his friend’s face as he watches Burr’s eyes dart between John and Alexander. He’s about to hit back at him with a smart remark, but Angelica is already at the front of the room and is calling up anyone who wants to debate.

Hamilton and Mulligan instantly shoot up on the side of ‘For the motion’, no one challenges them for the position, considering how active the two already are on campus with the LGBTQ+ community, there’s probably no one else that can debate it as well as them.

Jefferson practically drags John up to the front of the room and on to the side of the podium that is for those who are on the side of ‘Against the motion’, there seems to be no competition for debating their side either.

“Excellent we have two sides for our debate, we’ll give both teams five minutes to come up with some points and an opening remark and then we’ll get down to it.”

There’s always so little time to prepare that the room feels like it melts away as John scribbles anything he can onto his flashcards for his argument. Jefferson and himself barely even confer with one another, bar giving the briefest idea of what they’re going to say. Jefferson is going to handle the opening speech and John the closing one, with both giving points in between.

“We’re going to get booed out of here.” John warns him, noticing a large group of Pride members in the room.

“Nonsense. These are excellent points. Just speak the truth.” Jefferson reassure him as Angelica rings the bell.

Mulligans takes the opening side of the ‘For the motion’ side. His points are all strong and the kind of stuff John would expect. He speaks about equality, rights, a modern world, adoption. He doesn’t go too much into any of his points. He just brings them up and gives context for their side’s arguments. John’s sure Hamilton will be beating examples into the crowd on his turn.

When it comes to Jefferson, he brings up the common counter points. He speaks about Religion, he speaks about civil partnership already existing, he speaks about the definition of marriage. They are arguments that John has a weird feeling about, but he doesn’t have time to think on them too much because now Hamilton is up.

The man rips through what Jefferson just said. He brings up points that John is already thinking, he brings up new points, uses examples and statistics, brings up the weaknesses of civil partnership. He mentions a lot of things in his five minutes of speech time. Although Hamilton and Laurens speeches can be interrupted by questions from the audience, no one asks him any.

He sits down looking proud of himself, just as John must stand and approach the podium. He can feel the stones gathering in the pit of the stomach, he can feel the glares from the people in the crowd that he had once hoped to befriend when he came to college. The people that are out and proud, the people that are sitting there with their arms folded, ready to not take any shit from John.

Laurens is usually calm when he debates. He’s never had stage fright or nerves. But now his palms are sweaty, his leg is jittering ever so slightly and he has to pretend to adjust the microphone just so he can have a moment to steady himself .

He clears his throat as the bell chimes and begins his own speech for the debate.

John takes a much more liberal side than Jefferson when it comes to his points, and most of his speech is just trying to counter what Hamilton has said. John says the usual opening lines of greeting the audience and the chairperson before he begins.

“My fellow competitors have made some great points tonight.” A scoff from Hamilton can be heard. “But I think they’ve missed the actual topic we’re debating.” The comment earns him chatter from the crowd and some gazes narrowing.

“The topic tonight is not about should same-sex marriage be legalised, it’s not about homophobia, injustice or oppression.” John can practically feel Hamilton’s eyes boring into the side of his head. Angelica’s amused eyebrow raise from the chairperson’s seat though, gives John some strength.

“If the topic was just about same-sex couples being allowed to get married, then sure, they’d be strong and valid points. But the topic tonight is about should same-sex marriage be legalised this year.” Most of the crowd is still looking pissed off at John, but now there’s a note of curiosity to their expressions.

“America. Our great country, the land of the free. A quote so outdated and misused that no one can trust it anymore. There’s so much wrong in America right now, so many injustices. Our healthcare is overpriced to the point where your wage and job can dictate if you die from a curable disease tomorrow. Our class system is so messed up that the colour of your skin decides if you get a scolding from police, or a bullet in the back of the head. Our education system is lacking behind most other first world countries, and most of the world is laughing at our tuition fees to universities, and it’s not because they think it’s funny, it’s because it’s ridiculous. Our country is drowning in debt, intolerance, homelessness, unemployment, there is so much going on this year. Did most of you even know that the US is not a signatory of Article 11 of the International Covenant on Economic, Social, and Cultural Rights, which recognizes "the fundamental right of everyone to be free from hunger," a policy that 158 other countries have adopted? Sure, we have food stamps, but they don’t solve even a fraction of our hunger problems with millions of American households being labelled as food insecure every year.” John takes a moment to pause and take a breath, no one looks angry in the crowd anymore, at least not angry at him, just angry in general.

“So, I’m sorry but do I think that same-sex marriage needs to be legalised this year? My answer is no. It doesn’t need to be, people just want it to be. Food however, is a fundamental need; as is healthcare; and as most people will agree, education. Civil partnership can still join same-sex people together in lawful unity, but no food means someone dies. Not being able to afford health care, means someone dies. Not being educated, means the poverty cycle will just continue. For these reasons, our side opposes this motion.”

Laurens isn’t expecting the round of applause that follows his speech. It’s not as loud as Hamilton’s, not as righteous. There’re still people in the crowd that look like they want to punch him, people that refuse to clap, but he’s definitely surprised them. Even Jefferson looks flabbergasted from his seat beside the podium.

John can see Hamilton standing up in the corner of his eye without having to turn his head.

“Point of information.”

John could say no. In debates you’re allowed to refuse a question from anyone who tries to ask one. But it looks bad for the speaker. It makes it look like your argument is weak.

“Go ahead.” John meets the icy glare of his roommate as he responds.

“Everything you mention requires funding, it requires complex systems and budgeting. But changing the law so that two people of the same sex can get married, is free. There’s no cost to it, it’s something that can be done this year. It’s something that can change people’s lives, their mental health and their ability to start a family. It needs to be done this year because there is no valid reason for it not to be.”

Laurens is suddenly wishing he’d ignored the point and just concluded his speech. In a split second his brain runs through all the ways he can tackle this, it goes through how he can devalue the point and win the debate.

John clear his throat to give himself another second. It’s hard, it’s hard in this moment to argue back against such an excellent point… because John agrees. There’s no part of him that wants same-sex marriage to be illegal. He wants to get married someday, he wants to adopt easier, to be more secure in life. He’s chosen his side in this debate though, there’s no going back now.

“If we prioritise everything this country does by how easy it is to do, then we’ll never solve any of the most vital problems we face. It might be easier to make same sex marriage legal this year, but the more honourable and the most important move is to make changes in the areas that are necessary. Hunger should not exist in a first world country, illiteracy should not exist, homelessness should not exist. Marriage can wait, the pointless deaths of Americans cannot.”

Hamilton is red in the face at this point, his hands balled into fists. Laurens isn’t happy with his answer, but he is proud of how he handled it.

“Why don’t you tell your father that.” The comment throws John off, his smile falls and John feels like he got slapped across the face.

“Alexander!” Angelica, who is chairing the debate suddenly stands up, banging her fist on the table as she does so. “That’s a speaking out of turn penalty. Now sit down.”

Alexander just scoffs, his glare tearing away from John. Laurens makes his way back to his seat, his knees practically buckling as he collapses onto it. He can feel a heat under his collar, an itch on his palms. This is why he didn’t want to debate in the same room as Alex. This is why every week, no matter his interest in a topic, he chooses the other room.

“Dude, that was fucking amazing. After Hamilton’s outburst too, we have to win.”

John politely nods his head, pushing a grinning expression onto his face as his mind starts to wander and dissociate. He barely registers the judging period passing and Angelica announcing their side won the debate.

Or at least, they won this round. They’ll be more debaters coming up and down over the next hour to give their opinions and compete again. John allows Jefferson and Burr to drown him in compliments for a minute when he returns to the audience before he excuses himself for the bathroom.

He doesn’t actually have to use it, but he can’t stand to hear the debate again. He can’t get Hamilton’s words out of his head. He can’t shake the feeling of being called out.

What’s getting to him is that, Hamilton is right. Henry Laurens should be focusing on those things. All politicians should. Instead of squabbling over religion and preference, human life should be at the centre of all their decision making.

But that’s not how politics works, and Henry Laurens made it clear the day he found out his son was a faggot, that he doesn’t give two shits about John’s opinion on anything political.

“How did I raise a delusional, infected liberal”

“Nice debating. I bet if felt pretty good to win a debate on the side of homophobes while getting to say righteous and moral points that paint you out as some sort of saint.”

John isn’t sure he has the strength to turn on Hamilton, who has clearly followed him down the empty corridor to the toilets. After a deep breath though, he realises he doesn’t really have a choice.

“If you have something to say Hamilton, just say it. Sarcasm is a coward’s way out.”

Alexander has the decency to look annoyed as John turns to him with his retort.

“A coward? I’m not the one living in the 21st century that’s afraid of two people of the same sex being married, or having kids, or getting to live their life as normal and entitled as everybody else.”

John’s too tired to handle this. He just can’t find it in him to battle Alexander again, not when he agrees with what the man is saying.

“Yeah? Well neither am I.”

The comment surprises his roommate. It’s one of those rare moments where Alex is actually speechless. It’s clear he’s come out to the corridor for a fight, he’s probably prepared for any argument John can make. He isn’t ready for John to suddenly agree with him though.

The silence stretches on, the pair keeping their gazes locked as John can see the gears turning in Hamilton’s mind.

Eventually John rolls his eyes and turns away, heading for the bathroom again.

“But your father, he-”

“He what?” John whips around to point a finger at Alexander, the anger and frustration of the last few weeks finally boiling over the top of John’s patience reserve.

“He hates gays. Immigrants? Puppies? Maybe. Maybe he does, I’m sure a quick google search and quotes from articles will confirm whatever questions you have about him. Amazingly though, you will find if you search hard enough-” John steps closer to Hamilton as he speaks, moving slowly forward until he’s a step away from Alex’s schooled expression. “that he is in fact his own person, and that I am not him.”

Alex’s pupils dart left and right as he tries to decide what eye he can glare into hard enough to find a speck of deception. The air between the two is practically electric, after all their stunted conversations and passive aggressive comments, some of the truth is finally coming out.

John is both relieved, and terrified for how Hamilton might respond.

He doesn’t though. A woman comes back from the bathroom, passes them and has to politely ask them to move out of her way. The moment that had been building fizzles away and Alex simply scoffs before he follows her back to the main room. Not even gracing John with an idea of what’s going through his roommate’s head.

John feels lightheaded as he stumbles to the bathroom. He doesn’t want Alex to push him about this. He doesn’t want to have to explain himself, because if he starts, he’ll end up telling his own worst enemy, the most vulnerable things about himself.

They’ll be nothing stopping Alex then from running to Washington with all sorts of front-page news headlines about his main political rival.

No, Laurens must avoid this for as long as he can. He can’t let his world start to unravel just as he’s building a life for himself on campus.

If anyone is going to ruin John’s life, it’ll be himself. Not Hamilton.

Chapter Text

After the debate, Laurens ends up crashing at Jefferson and Madison’s place. They’d gotten Laurens to buy some beers for them and then they’d giddily stayed up until two in the morning chatting and swapping dumb stories from their teenage years.

Burr passes on the night’s activities once they’d gotten a late dinner. He said the smell of beer still nauseates him after a rather unpleasant experience at his high school graduation. He waves off their mocking with a grin and continues up the stairs to the third floor.

He’s sauntering over to his dorm room; positive his roommate is already asleep, a science major that did little else than study and snore, when a familiar voice bombards him.

“Burr, sir.”

Aaron turns on the balls of his feet, swivelling gracefully around to face whomever is hollering down the hall at him.

“Alexander, no need for the formalities- “A yawn finishes off his statement, the late nights were really starting to do a number on him. “Pardon me, I was on my way to my bed. Can I help you?”

“I uh- Well, yes, you can…maybe.” Hamilton rubs at the back of his neck, his gaze dropping to the hideous patterns on the carpet between the pair, following their twisting symmetrical lines.

“I’m waiting.” Burr crosses his arms, tilting his head to the side. This was unlike any version of Alexander Hamilton that Burr had ever seen. He’s never seen the annoying man look so uneasy.

“I wanted to…I mean you just seem to know him the best…and I certainly couldn’t talk to Jefferson about this…and Madison is sort of an intimidating guy…and well you seem the most reasonable, no offence!” As always, Alexander manages to double Burr’s wordcount, while still not making his point.

Almost as if Alex could hear his thoughts, he makes an attempt to clear his throat and get back on track.

“Sorry, I’m rambling.” He sighs, any noise was easier to make then the next few words. “What’s uh- what’s the story with Laurens, John Laurens that is.”

If Burr had a hairline, his eyebrows would currently be reaching it.

“You’re- you’re asking me about your own roommate?” Burr can barely keep the chuckle out of his question.

“Well… we’re not exactly close. As I’m sure you’re well aware.” Hamilton snaps back, a blush now dotting across his face. He should have known this was a stupid idea.

“Yes, quite right.” Burr takes a step closer to Hamilton, closing most of the gap between them. On instinct he looks around them, checking the corridor and the top of the stairs to see if anyone is listening in.

“So, given you hate my friend, why are you asking about him. What’s your game Hamilton.” Burr narrows his eyes to slits as he tries to catch the emotions on Alex’s face, the gaze in his eyes. His father always told him that the truth is hidden in a man’s eye.

“My game?” Alexander explodes, his voice raising slightly before the rest of his breath comes out in a huff, his tense shoulders slumping as he runs a hand across his face, pulling back loose locks of hair as he rakes his fingers all the way back to the bump of his ponytail.

“What’s his? He acts so stuck up all the time, he’s crazy about his family, he’s obviously a conservative with narrow views. Someone who was raised to be a racist, a homophobe, a- well whatever other intolerant a person can be! Yet-”

Burr stops himself from interrupting as Hamilton turns the narrative around in his rant. The older man is shaking now, furious with how John is being summarised. But Hamilton looks conflicted, he looks like he doesn’t quite believe the words he’s speaking either. Burr isn’t Jefferson, he isn’t rage and wind and fire. He’s a breeze, he’s a swaying branch, or a patient bird watching out for the worm. He lets Hamilton continue.

“Yet… there’s something more to the guy. He’s oddly aware, considerate. He…he even helped me one night, when I’d really done nothing to deserve it. I keep thinking…maybe if he was raised differently, we’d be friends.” Hamilton sighs, he hadn’t admitted that out loud yet. Not even to Lafayette or Mulligan.

“Does his father really matter then?” Burr questions, noting the confliction on Hamilton’s face.

Hamilton snaps his gaze to meet Burr’s for the first time that evening. His brief moment of pondering and pity washing away to rage.

“When it’s Henry Laurens, yes actually, it does.”

“So…why are we having this conversation then.”

The creases on Hamilton’s face disappear as his frown irons out to a look of indifference.

“Good point. As always, Burr.” The smile Hamilton shoots at Burr doesn’t meet his eyes. Aaron is all too aware of the look, of putting on a mask when you can’t determine what emotion is appropriate anymore.

“Goodnight then, I’ve clearly wasted enough of your evening.” Hamilton turns and moves away as fast as he talks. Burr nearly lets him go too. He didn’t owe Hamilton any help, the idiot should figure things out himself. Why get involved? Would John be happy to know he was chatting with his archnemesis?

Burr shakes his head at his own absurd thought, he’d been spending far too much time around Jefferson.

“Hamilton, maybe instead of asking me, you should talk to John. He’s a lot more…” Burr almost says liberal but holds himself back. That wouldn’t be a word for him to throw around. “-open, then you might be expecting. If you can go five minutes without insulting him or calling him a name, then you might learn whatever it is you’re looking for.”

The comment seems to twist something in Alex. He turns to Burr and the politeness is gone, shadowed by something darker.

“I’m not the one calling people names.” Alex spits, the anger surprising Aaron.

“What are you implying, Hamilton?”

Alex shakes his head then, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips.

“He’s good, you know that. Fuck- he had me talking to you of all people, about him. Just because he put on a world class performance after the debate. Really made all the little hints that he might be a decent person feel like they’re adding up. But thank you Burr for reminding me of the other shit he’s done.”

Burr is at a complete loss of how the conversation has flipped so quickly. A moment ago, he thought he was helping bridge the gap between the feuding pair, now it felt even wider.

“A man doesn’t write faggot on your door and then make up for it by being a decent guy ten per cent of the time.”

Hamilton says the last bit quieter, the first part of the conversation he’s concerned could be overhead by some random passing college student.

“Oh." He hasn't told him, Burr realises.

“What, he didn’t tell you?” Hamilton sneers, kicking at the carpet. “Guess you don’t know your friend as well as you thought then.”

Hamilton shrugs before heading to his dorm. He feels like an idiot. He shouldn’t have spoken to Burr; he shouldn’t have given John Laurens a second thought from the moment the man wasn’t in his presence.

He watches Hamilton until the younger man bangs his dorm room door shut. He turns slowly, pacing over to his own door, a tremor in his hands as he unlocks it.

Why hasn't John cleared things up with Hamilton? Surely, he couldn't be protecting Charles Lee... Burr knew better than anyone how John felt about the guy.

Well, no point in jumping to conclusions. Burr tries to comfort himself as he gets into his room and gets ready for bed. He switches his lamp off, huddling under the covers in the dark. He’d ask John about it tomorrow; he was one of his closest friends after all. John would have an explantaion that made sense. 

But one Mr John Laurens was nowhere to be seen on campus the following day.

Not even his roommate had seen him packing a bag that morning after he’d snuck out of Jefferson and Madisons rooms without waking them. He left a note for them this time though, not wanting to cause a scene like last time.

I promised some friends I’d visit them the weekend of Halloween. Don’t be worrying.

By the time anyone knew he was gone he was already three hours into his drive heading towards another large campus. One where no one would know him, well except for his friends.

A weekend of no Alexander, no expectations, no prejudice, and most importantly, plenty of bars.

Maria: You better be on your way Laurens! You’ll arrive just in time for pre-drinks, and don’t worry about not knowing all our new friends, there’s a few gentlemen in particular that are looking forward to meeting the infamous John 😉

John laughs as he reads the text at a red light, he had a lot to look forward to this weekend.

Chapter Text

“Where’d you even get a fake ID?” John laughed as a tipsy Maria clung to his arm, her heels scraped on the concrete as she awkwardly dragged her feet across the sidewalk, barely making an effort to lift them. John would call it a shuffle before he called it a walk.

“Oh Laurens, I know where to get everything in this town!” She all but yelled in his ear. He couldn’t help but giggle as she suddenly picked up her pace, skipping as she tugged at him to cross the street.

“There! There they are! Hey losers!” Maria hollered towards what looked like a student club, given the line of people in their 20’s that was going down the street and around the corner.

Three people turned their head as though they recognised her voice. The first of the two were men, a tall broad shouldered ginger man with a thick beard and a lumberjack aesthetic. The other was shorter, a few inches less than Laurens. He was wearing some spiked jewellery and a black cargo jacket. The woman was the only one of the three wearing a Halloween costume. She was in a full, boots to crown, Wonder Woman outfit. John couldn’t tell if her hair was real or a wig.

“Maria!” The tallest guy waved them over, earning the pair some glares from those waiting in the queue, given Maria’s friends were near the front.

“Sorry we’re a bit late, but Jack here is so fussy about his hair.”

“By that, she means she had to finish her vile vodka cocktail before we could leave.”

The comment earned a laugh from the group as the girl shook her head, grinning at Maria.

“Sounds like Maria alright. Surprised you two got here before we got in. Doubt you would have made it through this queue without us.”

“Yeah, was cutting it close Marie.” The shorter man teased.

“Ew, don’t call me that.” Maria all but whined, almost stomping her foot. Her eyes drifted across the group then, widening a bit as she realised something.

“Oh shoot, guys this is Jack or John, Laurens, Jack this is Nathan, Eric and Grace.” She introduced them by pointing at the tallest guy, the shorter and then the girl.

“Nice to finally meet you all.” He smiled, his stomach dropping a bit as Eric rolled his eyes.

“She introduces him to us as though we haven’t heard a million tales about him.” Eric was grinning at Jack now, his eyes shining in the streetlight. “You’ve got quite the reputation to live up to.”

“Well, hopefully I won’t disappoint.” John smirked, sensing something in the guy’s tone.

The two men get lost then in small talk that they miss the ten-dollar bill Grace passes to Maria.

“I hate that you’re always right.” Grace mutters as the five of them are shoved forward in the queue, the bouncer checking their ID’s and letting them pass through security and into the club.

“Let’s do shots!” Maria yelled as the beating pulse of Techno music starts to vibrate in John’s chest. Well, he was only visiting for a short time, might as well make the most of it.

-----------------------------------------------------

There’s some saying. John couldn’t remember it that night, not when he was five drinks in and had three shots done. It was something about being one version of yourself when you go out, promising to only have a drink or two, and how the guy you become after those two drinks is different than the first guy, the guy version of you that had been sober. He doesn’t have to follow the original promise…or some shit like that.

Man, educational tales were messy when you were trying to piece them together and pay for a fourth shot.

“Man, this is the best tequila I’ve ever had!” Eric, the shorter of Maria’s guy friends, yelled at him. Maria and Grace had disappeared a while back, holding hands and giggling like school girls. John doubted he’d see her again tonight. The other guy, Nathan, John could still see him a few stools down on the same bar chatting up a red head. Seemed everyone was hitting it off tonight…

They clinked their shot glasses together before licking salt off the back of their hands and downing the thing. Before John could reach for his slice of lemon, Eric was holding a slice up to his mouth, waggling his eyebrows.

John laughed at the showmanship before he bit the piece of fruit out of Eric’s hand, offering him the other piece in a similar manner. John didn’t miss the flirtatious tongue that licked across his finger as he pulled his hand back.

Before John could do anything about said signal, the music changed to some recent pop hit. Eric grabbed his wrist, looking scandalised.

“Okay, this song sucks. Like really fucking sucks, but it’s all over TikTok and it’d be a crime if we didn’t dance to it.” Eric informed him as he pulled him by the wrist to the dancefloor.

“Is that right?” John bellowed over the now pulsating music, the speakers vibrating the ground beneath them as they began to dance together. He’d taken dance lessons as a kid, ballroom mainly, but had talked his dad into letting him do some break dancing as well, when he was a teen. He’d convinced his dad to let him go by saying it was for a chick…why was he thinking about that now?

“You know, you don’t need to come up with excuses to dance with me.” John added, as Eric’s carefree smile turned into a quirked smirk.

The smaller man took a step forward, his arms snaking up around John’s neck. John froze for a split second, even intoxicated his first instinct was to look around. But no one was watching. No one knew him here. The few people that did. didn’t care. This man in his arms cared only because it meant he might get laid.

John relaxed.

“And you don’t need to be so cocky, pretty boy.” Eric bit back, his hands playing with the ends of John’s hair that lay on his upper back.

“Pretty boy?” John repeated in disbelief, his arms now wrapping around the other’s waist, drawing the two of them together. “I wouldn’t say I’m the pretty one.”

“Then you’re blind.” Eric shrugged, moving his hands to caress over John’s shoulders and work their way down his chest, lightly gripping the front of his shirt.

He pulled John down the few inches that separated them, their lips ghosting off one another. Why hasn’t this short stack kissing him yet?

“Maria mentioned- uh- if you don’t- I mean-” Eric stuttered, causing John’s brows to knit together, his face pinching as he tried to lean back to get a better look at the expressions on Eric’s face. “If you want to go somewhere more private, is what I’m trying to say, I won’t be offended.”

John considered it. His heart inflated a little, this guy only met him tonight but was considerate enough about John’s position with the public eye, to offer an alternative to blatantly making out on the dancefloor.

He thought about that story again. The man he was at the start of the night. Would he be so fearless? What man was he now?

He pressed his lips against Eric’s, and everything felt right. The pulse of bodies around them, the flashing lights that shone through closed lids, the humming in his chest that matched the bass of the beat, it was all in perfect sync.

His hand came up to grasp at Eric’s sharp jawline, his fingers moving over stubble and wiping away excess foundation. Eric moved his arms again so their chests could push together, the heat of their two bodies hotter than the sweltering room. John pulled away, feeling lightheaded, panting happily as he open-mouthed grinned at his kissing partner.

Eric shook his head, a lopsided smile stretching further and further along his face.

“I’ve an apartment ten minutes from here, please tell me you’ll come back for coffee.”

John chuckled, grabbing Eric by his belt, and pulling him close again, leaning his lips against the shell of the smaller man’s ear so he could feel him shiver as John whispered, “Lead the way.”

The pair left the club with their hands intertwined. A text message was sent to their friends, ensuring no missing persons files were created.

Outside the air was colder, refreshing, breathable. The doors to the club swung shut behind them as they stumbled down the dark road, trapping in the heat, the music, the stench of young adults.  

Not too far from the door, a young man hummed under his breath. His head clear, much too clear for the hour it was in this disgusting club. He twirled a phone around in one hand, unlocking it every few seconds to admire his photography skills. Perfectly framed in the centre of the dancefloor, surrounded by half clad disgraceful men and women, was Laurens Jr himself, making out with some lad.

The papers would have a field day with this. But this man knew there was more to life than sales to a paper. He knew someone who would give anything to get their hands on this. His thumb swept through his contacts until it hovered over Lee, Charles.

You owe me one.

Attachment sent.

-----------------------------------

John groaned as the first thing he became aware of was a thrumming beneath his skull. His eyelashes felt glued together as he rolled on his back, wiping at his eyes with fists until the crust cleared.

“Morning, sunshine. Aspirin beside you on the bedside locker.”

John stopped, his body tensing as he opened his eyes, getting a glimpse of Eric in just a pair of jeans, rummaging through a set of drawers for something, presumably a shirt. That’s right, he’d come back to his place last night. Slowly, the memories of ripping off clothes, carrying the guy to his bedroom and fucking for hours came flooding back.

“Oh uh, thanks.” He responded intelligently. He scrambled to sit up, grabbing at the pill and the glass of water beside him and quickly swallowed it down.

“I gotta head to work, but feel free to chill here. There’s coffee in the kitchen, some stuff for toast or eggs, it’s an automatic lock so you can let yourself out whenever.”

“Where do you work?” John ended up asking as he swung his feet out of the bed and stretched, realising only as the blankets pooled around him that he was naked under the sheets.

“Starbucks around the corner, college cliché I know.”

Eric finished buttoning up a shirt, he looked way different without his goth accessories, naked almost. Speaking of, John picked his boxers up off the ground and slid them back on.

Eric was staring at him, biting his lip like he was considering calling it a sick day and tackling John back onto the bed. He settled instead for sauntering over and giving John a kiss, his hands rubbing teasingly down John’s arms.

“It was nice to meet you.” He muttered as he broke away from John, moving to head out the door.

“Yeah, you too. We should do this again.” John retorted, only half joking.

Eric stopped before the door shut, turned his head, and made a big show of looking John up and down.

“Definitely.” The door closed with a bang, leaving John flushed red and riding an adrenaline high. He needed coffee to keep this mood up, and something to eat.

Maria: Where you at?? You got to tell me everything, man. Breakfast, here -Maria has shared her location-

Well. That was that then.

Chapter Text

“HOW DO YOU LOSE A CHILD!” Lafayette bellows, his hands clenching to fists as his eyes dart between Alexander and Hercules.

“Misplaced.” Hamilton quickly corrects, wincing under the full attention of Lafayette’s glare.

“Temporarily!” Mulligan adds, backing up his friend.

“I can not believe this is happening.” Lafayette mutters, rubbing and pinching at the space between his eyebrows. A deep headache is already settling in behind his eyes, complimenting the nausea and churning in his gut.

Alexander bit his lip as he caught Hercules eye. This is bad.

Lafayette’s little cousin was visiting America for a week, a sweetheart named Coraline that was going on six years of age. She had the same unruly hair and wide grin as Lafayette and was able to talk as much and as loudly as Alexander himself. Well, in French at least. Her English was almost non-existent. Much to Lafayette’s dismay when he met with her today for the first time in two years. But luckily Alex was fluent in French. It was poor Hercules that needed a constant stream of translations.

Her mother had left her with them for a day as she was dying to hang out with her cousin. Lafayette had then entrusted her to Alexander and Hercules when he had to run into the fees office to sort an issue out.

They’d been diligent at first! Playing tag with her around the green, buying her an ice-cream when a guy with a cooler of them walked by. Then they’d bumped into the Schuyler sisters who had cooed over her initially, before the four of them had gotten into a discussion about a Pride event coming up.

They’d only looked away from her for five minutes! It was only when Eliza and Angelica walked away did they realise they were no longer tripping over the girl. She was gone.

“Look she couldn’t have gone far! We’ll catch up to her.” Mulligan assures Lafayette who was now pacing and speaking in quick hushed French.

The French man ignores him, and Hercules cocks an eyebrow at Alex.

“What’s he saying?”

“Nothing helpful.” Hamilton grimaces as his brain translates the flurry of curses and insults erupting from Lafayette’s mouth.

“Right, right, FINE. I will freak out about this later. For now, we need to split up, search the campus, call friends. I’ll go back in and inform the office so they can contact security. We need to find her- gah- she can’t even ask for help.” Lafayette groans, his heart breaking in his chest as he wonders if she’s scared now, if she’s alone. Fuck, what if some dumb American man tries to grab her.

“Aye, aye.” Alex salutes, trying to lighten the mood despite the growing tension in his own shoulders.

Lafayette rolls his eyes at the motion, but the briefest hint of a smile brings comfort to Alex.

“We’ll find her.” Hercules voices, brining the affirmation to life as the three split up. How far could one little girl go?

-------------------------------

Coraline had only wanted to chase a butterfly. Then all she wanted was to go over the little bridge and pet the dog. Then she’d seen the coolest statue ever!

Now, she has no idea where her cousin has gone to.

She leans her weight from one foot to the other, nibbling on her bottom lip as she hops. Her eyes scan across the green patches of grass, the winding concrete paths and the looming stone buildings, but nothing looks familiar.

Adults speak as she passes her by, now sitting on the edge of a fountain, her little legs kicking out, showing off her white ruffled socks, but she does not understand a word they say. Her hands grasp at and play with the thick fabric of her baby blue dress, her fingers tracing the ducks that decorate the folds. She gives them names and then voices and then they’re all around her, swimming through the fountain.

Every now and then she splashes a hand through the water, giggling as though one of the ducks had been trying to nibble on her hand.

“I’ll bring you some bread when I find my cousin.” She promises solemnly.

“Brian! Brian c’mon we’re gonna miss the bus!” A lady with blonde hair runs past Coraline, a stouter man with a beard like Santa racing after her.

Coraline only recognised the word bus from the hollering. She jumps off her concrete throne, suddenly excited. When her cousin had driven her here, they’d gotten on a bus for a while! If she hopped on it, then she’d arrive and find him again.

She must have walked further than she had thought. She nods her head proudly as she chases after the pair, excited to be reunited with her cousin.

“Worst case we walk an hour out to the car.” The man mutters as he pants to make it to the bus stop in time.

Coraline shadows them onto the bus, going unnoticed by the bus driver who misses her weaving through the couples’ legs and finding herself a seat near the back.

She’s never taken a bus by herself. Lafayette is going to be so proud of her!

--------------------------------------------------------------------

John is exhausted. A weekend of drinking, hooking up and horrible Halloween choices left him deflated and dragging his feet through the university car park. He’d had an amazing time, seeing Maria, getting to know Eric… it was like bursting a magical bubble to arrive back at his own campus, still in the closet.

His head was aching too, the last remnants of his binge drinking last night. Maria and he had spent the night trying to make cocktails from horrible WikiHow tutorials. His stomach churns at the thought of all the different juices he’s put through his system in less than twenty-four hours.

He’s lugging a duffel bag over one shoulder, gripping the handle tightly as his free hand is used to swipe through his phone, checking when the next shuttle bus would be around. According to the real time app one had just left for the university, and the next one would be in twenty minutes or so.

Laurens hates waiting for the bus. It always feels like such a waste of time, even though he knows deep down it’s quicker than walking. He’s never one for standing still, always likes to be moving. He could catch up on university e-mail as he waits, that would probably help with his restlessness.

He’d been approaching the bus stop from the back, it’s only when he’s turning the corner of the shelter does he see the sole occupant waiting at the stop.

A little girl with dark skin, a blue dress dotted with ducks and curly hair that was falling around her face and crawling out of a bun that was unravelling on top of her head. She looks worriedly at him as he approaches, and John notices the streaks of tears running down her cheeks.

He looks around sharply, his eyes scanning around the shelter and through the forest of cars, but he can’t spot anyone running around looking for her. How odd.

“Hi.” He tries, using a voice he usually reserves for his own siblings.

His greeting makes her cry harder, proper sobs exhaling with each breath she took.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. My name’s John, or Jack if you like. I just want to help. Are you lost?”

He crouches down a few feet away so they’re at eye level with how she’s sitting on the shelter’s bench.

She wipes at her eyes furiously, shaking her head side to side. She’s looks no older than six or seven. As the silence stretches out, John is at a loss for what to do next.

“What’s your name?” He tries. That would at least be a starting point.

“Coraline.” She almost whispers, only half excited that he asked her one of the few questions in English that she understood.

John raises his eyebrows in recognition when he hears her accent.

“Do you speak French Coraline?” She sounds French at least, John thinks, hopes really, because it was only of the handful of languages he was fluent in.

Her face morphs into joy at his words. Her tears drying up as she hops off the bench and begins jumping up and down excitedly.

“Yes! Yes, sir. I wanted to ask for help but I thought no one could talk to me. Oh, please can you help me?”

She grabs one of John’s hands, clinging to it with all her strength as she looked upwards at him. John feels a blossom of relief in his chest. As long as she trusts him and can speak to him, he can get her to her parents, or at least to someone at the university that could help.

“Of course. Did you get separated from your parents, Coraline?”

“No, well yes, but I was with my cousin. He goes to school here! We took this bus earlier when we arrived…I though it’d take me to him, but I’ve been waiting here since the sun was over the trees and he still hasn’t found me…”

John looks over at the tree line she’s pointing, notices the setting sun had disappeared behind their shadowed forms, the edges of the sky turning navy now as it passes eight in the evening. Whoever her cousin is, they must be going out of their mind. She’d been here for hours.

“Do you remember the last place you saw him?” John asks, trying to work out how far she’d gotten away from them.

“An office…he had a meeting, so his friends looked after me. We played tag but then I chased a butterfly and a dog and then they were gone!” Her voice cracks a little as she retells her story.

It was then John noticed her little hands were shaking as they held his. She looked exhausted as she stood there. The first chill of the night swept past them in a hurry, and she shivers under its touch, her arms bare of a jacket in her short-sleeved dress.

“One minute.” He pulls his hand from hers and takes his bag down, rummaging through it for a spare hoodie of his, one that was clean. He ends up with his grey Columbia hoodie in his hand.

“Here, put this on. It’s getting cold.”

She nods her head and lets him help her slip it over her head. It’s massive on her, trailing down to her knees, just the barest puff of her dress sticking out from the ends of it. John helps her roll up the sleeves, they still pass her little wrists but with some effort she could get her hands out.

Once she’s happily humming and playing with her sleeves, no longer looking cold, John continues his interrogation.

“What’s your cousins name?” John doubts he’ll know them, but at least he could call the college office and ask if they can contact them, arrange a meetup somewhere on campus.

“Lafayette.”

Of course. Of course, he is her cousin. Sometimes John is convinced the universe is out to get him. He’s literally in the middle of doing a good deed and it turns out it’s all linked to a guy that hates his gut. What did Karma have against John these days?

She must see something in his face because her eyes light up.

“Do you know him? Do you know my cousin?” She starts skipping on the spot now, vibrating with excitement.

He nods his head slowly, trying to match her enthusiasm. Well, at least John knew he could find her minders.

“Yes, we take class together. I don’t have his number but let me make some calls, okay? Once we ride the bus back to the campus, I’ll know where we can find him.”

She throws a fist up in the air, laughing loudly in delight. John supposes she’d gotten herself into quite the worry when she had spent so much of the day searching for Lafayette. The discomfort of actually having to interact with Lafayette was being outshone by the lightness he felt in his heart at seeing her so happy.

Man, he missed his little sisters, and his brother too. He needed to visit home soon.

John gets her to sit on the bench again, plopping himself beside her and handing her over a chocolate bar he’d been saving for later.

As she happily munches through the milk chocolate, he runs through his contacts, trying to find someone he could call. He didn’t have Lafayette’s number. He could call one of the Schuyler sister’s, they might be able to give him Lafayette’s number. As he’s skimming past the H contacts in his phone, he realises, quite abruptly, that he had Alexander’s number. They’d exchanged their phone numbers at the start of their project.

Hamilton will be with his friend right now. He’s probably helping him search. John’s stomach twists at the thought of speaking to the other man. Their last conversation after the debate collided with the memories of his time with Eric in his head, the two sides of him clashing and splitting him apart.

He takes one look at the little girl who was licking the last of the chocolate from her lips, her eyelids drooping as the panic melted from her, content to trust John. She now just looks tired.

He hits the call button. It rings for so long; John’s almost certain Alex won’t pick up.

“What? I swear Laurens if this is you saying you lost your room key, you can wait in the lobby.”

John rolled his eyes at the statement.

“You always this polite over the phone, Alexander?” John can hear the defensive inhale of breath Alex takes, can feel the irritation radiating through the phone.

“I’m hanging up.”

“Wait, wait, no. I uh- Is Lafayette missing a cousin by any chance?”

The line is silent for a moment. John has to lean it away from his ear and check to make sure Hamilton hasn’t actually hung up.

“Yes…” He answers slowly, warily, if John has to guess.

“Well then, I’ve found her.”

“What? Where?” John hesitates before answering when he hears the phone being pressed against something, probably Hamilton’s shoulder as he hears a muffled call for Lafayette.

“The parking lot. There’s a shuttle bus coming in a few minutes. Where will I meet you guys on campus?”

“Uh- hold on…” John can hear more indistinct muttering through the phone, can just about make out the French accented voice of Lafayette.

At the same moment some rowdy college boys join them at the stop, the smell of booze already wafting off them. They are loud and carrying excessive amounts of cans. Coraline reaches out and grabs John’s side, seeing as he didn’t have a hand free at the moment. She burrows her face against his ribs, trying to blot out the sight of the men.

“Outside the dorms. We’ll be waiting by the benches.”

“Alright.” John is about to hang up, to put his arm around Coraline to comfort her, when the phone is passed over.

“Is she alright? Is she okay?” Lafayette’s voice comes panicked over the line, John can hear Hamilton protesting his phone being taken.

“She’s fine Lafayette, she was just sitting at the bus stop when I got here. Do you want to talk to her?”

There’s another long pause, before he lets out a deep sigh.

“No, no, I will see her shortly. Thank you, John, I appreciate this, truly.”

“No problem.” He responds, surprised. Who wouldn’t help in this situation?

This time he does hang up, and he puts his arm around Coraline, giving the lads the stink eye so they won’t mess with the pair. After a moment the bus pulls up, and clinging onto John’s hand, Coraline follows him onto the bus.

It’s about a twenty-minute ride to the main campus, given how many stops this bus makes at the other car parks and further parts of the campus. Their stop is going to be one of the last. Coraline doesn’t even last 2 minutes before she falls asleep leaning against John.

He feels bad waking her up when the bus stuttered to a stop. She blearily grabs his hand and drags her feet as they stride off the bus. She’s yawning like crazy, wiping at the sleepy tears that leak from her eyes.

It’ll be a fifteen-minute walk to get to the dorms.

“You want to ride on my shoulders?” He asks after she stomps her foot a bit, getting frustrated at her own small legs.

She nods her head up at him, looking a lot more energetic now.

He laughs and grabs her gently by the waist, lifting her over his head and settling her on his shoulders.

She grabs at his long hair like it’s a horse’s mane and giggles as he walks on, exchanging words in French with her as they walk through the west part of the campus.

They pass a late-night food stall, and he asks her if she’s eaten. She hadn’t, not since lunchtime when she’d ran off.

He buys her a bag of fries, and she happily munches away as they walk. John lives with the fact that he is going to spend tonight washing fries’ grease from his hair.

------------------

“How did John find her?” Eliza questions, waiting around with the lads for Coraline to appear. They’d had the Pride committee and a lot of debaters out looking for her. Most of them had returned to their dorms now, delighted that she’s been located.

“At one of the bus stops for the shuttle bus. She must have remembered us taking it earlier and hopped on it.” Lafayette moans, resting his head in his hands.

He’d called his aunt straight away after John had hung up to let her know Coraline was safe. They’d be here soon to pick her up. He rubs his knuckles into his eyes until he sees stars, he’s dead on his feet at this point. He had run through every edge of the campus, not even considering the parking lot. She could have been there all night if John hadn’t spotted her. The thought made him queasy.

“Thank god it was John.” Eliza sighs, crossing her legs as she sat back on the bench.

“Wouldn’t have been my first choice.” Alexander mutters, brooding as he leans against a streetlamp.

Eliza rolls her eyes at him.

“I meant in relation to the other drunk creeps that parole the campus.”

Lafayette nods his head in agreement.

“Laurens might be a nuisance, but I trust him to look after her until they get here.”

“Oh, so we trust him now?” Alex spits, a low flare of bitterness bubbling in his stomach. Why couldn’t he have found Coraline? Or Hercules? Or any of the dedicated people who’d been searching since two o’clock today. Why did it have to be Laurens swooping in to save her?

“Alex, c’mon. Coraline getting back to her parents is what’s important right now. Couldn’t give a toss about Laurens.” Mulligans comforts him, resting a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

Hamilton grunts in response, but meet’s Hercules’ eyes with a flash of gratefulness.

“Oh my god.” Eliza leans forward as she catches sight of John. “He looks like a different person.”

The other three turn their head and spot the pair. Coraline is up on his shoulders, looking more relaxed and subdued then she had all day. She was eating something, fries maybe, her hand just about poking out of a massive hoodie. Lauren’s hoodie, Hamilton realised with a start.

John must speak French, because even without hearing them, Alex could see the pair were having a conversation. The first sound that hit the group was Coraline’s laughter at something John said. She threw her head back, kicking her legs a bit in delight.

John looks proud of himself, a lop-sided grin stretching across his face. He looks at ease, more relaxed than he’s ever looked around Hamilton, even in their room, even when he thinks Alex isn’t look at him. He looks happy. It leaves a weird lump in Alex’s throat, and a warmth in his chest that he despises.

“Lafayette!” Coraline spots her cousin, her arms windmilling in her excitement. John grabs her and lifts her back to the ground, she’s running before her shoes have even made contact with the soil.

Lafayette meets her half-way, spinning her around and holding her close to his chest. It’s a wonderful sight.

“What were you thinking? Running off like that? We were all so worried.”

The pair begin speaking in rapid French, so quickly that it was even making John’s head spin a bit. He’s a bit out of practise with the language, it’s almost a year since he’s had his last lesson with his tutor.

He feels a bit awkward then, standing there, watching them have their moment. He turns his head as he hears more footsteps crunching over the leaves on the green. He nods to Hamilton and Mulligan as they settled behind Lafayette. He waves back at Eliza who looks to be heading back into the dorms whose shaking her hand madly at him before she disappears.

Mulligan nods back, a small notion of respect between them. Hamilton on the other hand, won’t even look at him. In fact, he’s looking anywhere BUT at John. His hands are wringing the end of his shirt and eventually he tucks them into his hoodie’s front pocket. The smaller man looks uncomfortable, put off in a way that seems out of character for Alex. John should know, he’s seen all of Hamilton’s annoyed expressions.

Lafayette’s phone rings and from what Laurens can gather, the girl’s parents are here.

“C’mon Coraline, your mom’s waiting by that café we went to earlier.” Lafayette tries to grab her hand but once she realises she’s leaving she runs back over to John, catapulting herself at his legs and giving him a hug. He chuckles and crouches down to give her a proper one.

“It was lovely meeting you, Coraline.”

“Best friends, Jack?” She asks holding out a pinkie, pronouncing his name as ‘Jacque’.

“Always.” He winks as they link their pinkies and then in a blink she’s racing ahead of her cousin, calling for him to hurry up.

Lafayette gives him an emotional look, mouthing thank-you again but saying more with his eyes than Lauren ever thought possible.

There’s an awkward silence when Lafayette walks away, the three left standing outside. John gives them a glance but they don’t seem like they’re heading towards a conversation, so he breezes past them, heading for the dorms.

“You speak French?” No thank you from Hamilton, no ounce of gratitude, just another accusing question. He spat the words out like the thought of Laurens speaking French ruined the existence of the language itself.

“Yes.” His jaw locks as he answers, he had to turn to face the pair, his back now to the dorms.

Hamilton glances away from his gaze almost immediately. Again, unlike him to shy away from their stare-offs. He rolls his eyes and is about to speed-walk to his bed when Mulligan barges into the conversation.

“I think what Alex is trying to say-” He nudges Hamilton as he continues, “is that it’s a lucky thing you do. Coraline has basically no English.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” John replies coldly, realising Alexander was acting so weird because he was incapable of swallowing any of his pride to even think of thanking John for-

“Thank you.” Hamilton locks eyes with him. The words are angry, rushed and his body is all but shaking from adrenaline. John would laugh if his stomach hadn’t just done a massive flip, something fluttering in his gut from the aftermath. “We owe you one.”

John sucks on his teeth for a second, contemplating how to answer back. He could be smug, he could be aggressive, he could taunt Alex for such a weak statement in the scheme of their rivalry. But he’s tired, and his fatigued mind keeps asking him what would have happened if he hadn’t bumped into Coraline. If he’d arrived earlier or later, if those drunk lads had been there alone with her.

“Don’t mention it.” John shrugs, “I just did what any decent person would have done.”

Then, he was gone, disappearing into the building.

“Well, I didn’t really think you were a decent person.” Hamilton mutters when John’s definitely out of earshot, earning a chuckle from Hercules. He kicks a pebble in his frustration and watches it skim off the grass and across one of the paths to the dorms.

“Were you serious? About owing him one?” Mulligan’s prods, the pair matching pace as they head to the dorm’s kitchen to get something cooking for dinner. Lafayette had refused to eat since Coraline went missing.

Alex shrugs, feeling warm, like a blush might be colouring his face as he thought about how serious he had sounded. Sometimes, even he notices how dramatic he can be.

“You saw Laf’s face. As much as I don’t like the guy, he’s a hero tonight.”

“I don’t know what’s more shocking, you said ‘don’t like’ instead of ‘hate’, or that you just called John Lauren’s a hero.” Mulligan grins, barely containing his laughter at the fury creeping into Alex’s movements.

“Shut up.”

Yup. He catches sight of himself in the reflection of the stainless-steel fridge, he was definitely blushing.

Chapter Text

Alex feels like he’s dragging his feet as he stomps up the stairwell to his dorm. His thoughts were racing at a million miles an hour, trying to comprehend his biggest fixation of the semester, John Laurens.

He thinks of their first meeting, Laurens mentioning guns and confederate flags, that granted, Alex has never actually seen. He thinks of their arguments in lectures, their prank war, John’s friendship with Lee, the slur on their whiteboard that the guy even admitted to writing. Then, he thinks about the night of the storm. He thinks about how hard John works, how he’s been the best project partner of Alex’s to date, even with their fighting. He thinks about how John acted tonight, with Coraline, how the guy sounds every time he picks up his phone and talks to his siblings back home.

Alex thinks so hard, that he feels burnt out before he even enters his room. How can John be two different people? A walking, talking, oxymoron. Alex feels like he’s back in high school scrambling for a log table for the right equation, but not even knowing what genre of math he’s solving.

He can hear Burr’s voice in his head too, taunting him. Maybe instead of asking me, you should talk to John. He’s a lot more open than you might be expecting.

He holds the doorhandle in his hand for far too long, earning him a weirded-out stare from a lady across the hall coming out of her own room. Alex misses her judgemental eye roll however and opens the door with a sigh.

It’s past 11pm when Hamilton enters their shared room, smelling of cheap beer and nachos. Laurens notices how he freezes when he enters, staring at John who he must assume can’t see him in his peripheral vision because he gawks at John for an uncomfortable amount of time before the door shuts and Alex is falling onto his bed, staring at the roof in silence as John tries to continue his readings.

After a moment, John starts to feel irrationally uneasy. Hamilton is just lying there, lying still, not even fidgeting, doing nothing. John had assumed he was like a shark, if the guy didn’t keep moving, he’d die.

The whole thing is making his skin crawl. If Hamilton keeps this up John will never be able to focus on his work. Even doing nothing, Hamilton is insufferable.

“How’d you learn French?”

The question startles him enough that his finger jumps on his mousepad, knocking the mouse to the red X box on his tab and closing his notes by mistake.

“What?”

“I said-”

“No, I know what you said. Why are you asking?” Laurens huffs, after the debate John assumed they’d go back to ignoring each other. He hadn’t expected Alexander to converse with him again outside of college work.

“What, I can’t ask you a question now?” Hamilton raises an eyebrow at him, turning onto his side and resting his head on his elbow, facing John. So much for being an open guy…

John sits up in his bed, shutting down the lid of his laptop and fixing a pillow behind him.

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t. I’m just surprised you’re capable of speaking a second language.”

John can feel the usual compression in his chest that only Hamilton can create, that frustration that exhales from his lungs with his next breath. An anger and defensiveness that bubbles red hot beneath his ribcage.

“I know four, asshole. Not including Latin and Greek which I studied throughout high school.”

“No way.” Alex narrows his eyes, squinting at John in the low light of their bedside lamp. “Which ones?”

“English, French, Spanish and ASL.” John bit back, not knowing why he was telling Hamilton things about himself without more of a fight. Maybe he just wants to show off to the smartass, show the guy he isn’t the brightest in their room.

“Hmm, bet daddy was happy to fork out for the tutors huh?”

John feels his blood run cold. He glares over at Hamilton but the guy spins after he hits his mark, lying on his back again. The room goes silent. John thinks about getting up, going down to the kitchen for a soda, stopping into Burr, maybe he’ll just have a long shower and keep Alex up by blasting music through his headphones. He doesn’t need to sit here and be insulted and preyed on like he’s an easy mark. He has better things to do.

“Sorry.” The word is soft. John almost thinks he’s imagined it, except that Alex has tilted his head and gazed over at him, making a show of obtaining eye contact. “That was uncalled for.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.” John sighs, twisting his upper body and leaning it against the wall alongside his bed. He crosses his legs and faces Alex’s side of the room, getting a better look at this roommate. “Never stopped you before.”

Alex frowns at that. Like the comment is a surprise to him. For a painful second, John thinks this is going to turn into a really awkward conversation about the last two months, about how they’ve treated each other. He’s not sure he wants to do that, to give Alex a chance, but then Alex is talking like they’d never dropped the other topic,

“Why ASL? Bit of an odd one.”

John hesitates before answering, wringing his hands over his lap. Alex sits up, hugging a pillow to his chest as he leans against the far wall, both men dangling their feet off their beds and staring at one another. Alex has no idea how personal of a question this is. John could ignore it, close off this slippery conversation before he says something Hamilton can use against him.

But something is itching at him, pushing him to continue. He feels like he’s entered a weird parallel world, or like time is slowing down around him, the world moving to a crawl. John is reminded of something he once learned in science class, about how time slows near a blackhole, and inside a blackhole time stops altogether.

That’s how he feels now, like their room is orbiting a blackhole, or maybe Hamilton is the metaphorical black hole, always sucking time away from Laurens with useless misguided judgemental notions. If they keep going, if John lets Alexander drag him into a real personal conversation, will time stop? Will they freeze in this bubble they’re creating, staying frozen as hopeful college students forced to share a room with someone they hate.

The idea terrifies him. Even so, he continues, his heart slipping down from his ribcage cell and falling on his sleeve.

“One of my sisters is deaf. Once we found out about it, I learned ASL, most of us in the house did.”

Laurens should get a kick out of the way Alex’s eyes widen, how he looks surprised for once. Instead, all John feels is his stomach twisting into a knot. This isn’t something he likes to bring up. He doesn’t want Alex’s pity.

“You’re good with kids.” Alex comments, shifting the topic away. John is grateful for it.

“You sound surprised.”

“I kind of assumed you grew up with nannies or something that did all the child minding.”

John scoffs at the comment. Okay…so they did have a nanny growing up, but she did chores around the house and put the kids to bed and stuff like that. She wasn’t an entertainer. John was always the fun eldest brother, keeping everyone happy.

“What? You’re going to tell me you didn’t use your dad’s money to piss around throughout your youth. Parties on the weekends, drinking, hanging out in skate parks, spending your time committing petty crimes you know your dad will bail you out of.”

“Is that what you really think of me, Hamilton?” John muses, tilting his head as he got an insight to Alexander’s mind. “You think I got into one of best law courses in the country by money alone? You think I’m dragging your ass to an A in our project without having serious discipline? You think I learned how to act around kids, how I acted around Coraline today, by watching a nanny do it?”

Alex bit his lip, his brows furrowing into a single line as he considers what John is saying. The annoying, no, infuriating thing is, Laurens has a point. As much as Alexander hates him for it, he can’t fault the guy. Every time Alex curses him in his head, there’s always a piece that doesn’t add up, an incomplete picture that Alex is determined to get an aerial view of.

“That’s what I thought.” John murmurs, bringing a knee up to his chest and resting his cheek against it.

The room is quiet again, save for the wind that was starting to pick up outside. It’d been pretty humid today; they were probably in for a shitty night. The silence is different this time. John stares at his newest snow globe, Alex leans his head back and looks up at the roof again.

“I’m dragging your ass.” Alex clarifies, a little aggressively.

“Pardon me?”

Their eye’s meet as they both swivel their heads to look at one another again.

“You said you’re dragging my ass to an A. We both know, deep down, that I’m going to get us the A.”

“Hah, you’re delusional Hamilton.”

“And you’re full of it, Laurens.”

“Full of ideas maybe.”

“Full of hot air.”

“You barely even contributed to the introduction of the project.”

“Yeah, because you were insufferable about the wording.”

“At least I’m not insufferable every hour of every day of the week.”

They’re glaring at each other again, eyes narrowing suspiciously. They hold their serious faces for a couple of seconds before they’re both laughing. The tension in the room melting away for the first time since Alex had asked John for his name. The sound eventually dispersing to amused exhales, leaving wobbly grins on their faces.

For once, they can both hear how childish they sound.

John slowly brings his chin back up from where he’d tucked it against his chest, and realises Alex is frowning again, staring at him more intensely than ever.

“Did you mean what you said? Last week, after the debate.”

“Did I mean what?” John pushes, drawing his second knee up to his chest so he can rest his folded arms over them, leaning his chin against the barrier he’s made.

“That- that you’re not your father.”

“Thought that was evident, bit too young to be mistaken for him.”

“You know what I mean.” Alex snaps, folding his arms and glancing over to their door. John’s pretty sure he’s pouting, which is oddly a cute look on him. No. No Alexander Hamilton is not cute. Shut up brain.

“Were you implying that…you don’t fully agree with him…” Laurens can’t believe what he is hearing. Alex actually asking him for once, asking about his views on things. Well, pigs can fly apparently.

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know anymore! That’s why I’m asking.” Alex growls, his brown eyes flicking back to gaze at John. His roommate’s eyes trained on John’s face, looking for any micro ticks that might give the growing mystery of John Laurens away.

John sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing at it as he tries to formulate a response. All he ever wants is for people to give him a chance. To see him for something other than his descendancy. With Hamilton and his friends, it’s a call to hate him. For Burr and the rest of John’s friends, it’s a call of familiarity. Not many see past that, not many care to ask. John isn’t sure he knows how to answer.

“No. I don’t agree with a lot of what my father…as you would put it, preaches.” John can’t believe he’s admitted that out loud, admitted it to Hamilton. It’s gratifying in a way, watching the younger man’s reaction. John knows that as tough as this is for him to say, it’s probably going to be rough for Alex to hear as well. Given how the asshole has treated him, and how wrong he’s been.

“Both my parents are American…but my grandparents, on my mom’s side, they were immigrants to America. My mom was the one who taught me Spanish, I learned it alongside English actually, so I consider them both a first language, and I consider myself more than just American. So, if I was to begin somewhere with the list of where my dad and I differ in opinions, immigration policies would be the first.”

“If your mom is a second-generation immigrant, how can your dad debate against immigration then? All the bullshit he says about building the wall, about kicking millions of people out of America, how can he look half his family in the eye after saying that?”

John should have known that as soon as they started to talk about politics, Hamilton would get heated, ruining the chill vibe they had going on. However, unlike the other times they’ve had this back and forth, John doesn’t feel himself getting shoved to anger. He feels hollow answering back, his slack expression contrasting the pinched tension riding along the lines on Alex’s face.

“Easy to avoid when they’re all dead.” The words sting to speak out loud, to hear in the confines of this small room. But Laurens would be lying if he doesn’t admit to himself that his chest feels lighter, letting some of this out. Finally proving to Hamilton that he didn’t know it all.

John can’t bear to look at his roommate. He’s terrified Alex will say something awful, like sorry for your loss, or God forbid, how did it happen? He hears Alex rustling on his bed, sees him leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasping over his lap.

“My mom’s dead too. It sucks.” Alex’s voice cracks at the admission.

It makes sense, John realises. Day one, Alex had mentioned Lafayette was a foster brother. Still, Laurens had never lined up the theories to think Alex could be someone who could relate to him on this.

“I’d say sorry, but I know how much I hate hearing that phrase.” Laurens feels a bitter smile stretch across his features, finding it mirrored on Alex’s face.

“Yeah.” Alex puffs out a chuckle, his eyes stinging. “What’s everyone so fucking sorry about? Not like they killed her.”

John swallows thickly over a lump in his throat, the comment hitting a little too close to home.

“Yeah…” Laurens whispers, hardly daring to breathe. “The worst part is-” John’s heart is hammering in his chest as he thinks of uttering a thought he’d had for years, something he’s never admitted to anyone.

“My dad…he only started pushing for those policies after she died. He stopped talking about her, pretends all his kids are 100% white and perfectly American. Sometimes it feels like, he’s trying to forget her, forget he ever loved her.”

John knew from his own experience with his dad, what it was like to watch the man hate someone he once loved. The way his dad treats John is like a mirrored image of how the man treats the memory of his lost wife.

Alex let out a long breath, making a sound similar to someone who’d just been punched in the gut.

“What?” John snaps, his vulnerability making him skittish, his attention now back on his roommate who was scowling at the rug between their beds.

“Just- If that’s true, why did you debate in week three for the policies?”

“What- how do you even know that? You were in the other room for the other topic that week.”

“Eliza told me about it, said you spoke with much enthusiasm.”

Laurens grimaces at the phrasing. Okay, that did make him look like a hypocrite.

“It was the side Jefferson wanted to discuss, and there weren’t many people wanting to speak for that side. They needed more people to be for the motion.”

“So, you just pick the side your friends want, or the one lacking people and you can get that heated about it. You really expect me to believe that?”

“I’m used to fitting into the box people expect me to.” John retorts, raising an eyebrow at Alex to show he’s including him in the word ‘people’. “Most people that were against the motion and talking about why the whole policy sucked wouldn’t want me on their side anyways. They’d think it’s a prank or that I’m being sarcastic, or maybe even sabotaging them. Who’d believe Henry Laurens’s son is going to debate against a policy his dad is so publicly pushing for…that’s not even imagining the fact that someone would probably record what I say, and it’d be splashed across most of the main online news sites that same evening…”

“So, saying nothing is better? Or worse, promoting something you don’t believe in is better? Do you really care that much what people think of you? What they say about you? What some dumb author is going to say in a headline?”

“What would you know about it?” Laurens counters, leaping from the bed to stand, his hands curling into fists. There it is. The fury only Alexander Hamilton is capable of unlocking in him. “You’re a nobody, no one’s gonna bat an eyelid if you holler from the rooftops or post a ten-hour video diary online about your political standings. You don’t know what it’s like to be in the spotlight, to be seen, to have everything you say or do twisted against you.”

“Yeah, because men like your father silence men like me every day. Kind of hard to feel bad for you when I’m starving for that kind of a platform” Alex retaliates, standing just as quick, the two squaring off chest to chest. John lets out a rugged breath before saying something that had been on his mind since the day he moved in, something he didn’t want to admit to Alex, didn’t want to give him the knowledge of the other man’s power over John and his emotions. But if there was ever a time to say it, it’s now.

“Yeah, and what about you? Hm? You ask me what do I care about what other people think? It doesn’t matter if I care or not, it doesn’t matter if I deserve it, or not. I walk into a room, I say my name, and then everyone else makes it my problem.” He prods Alex directly in the chest as he says the word ‘everyone’, glowering down at Hamilton.

“What the hell are you even talking about?”

“The silent treatment, the keeping me awake, the prank war, the heated debates, the constant fucking assumptions about how awful I am. Would any of that have ever happened had I said a different name when I introduced myself?”

John is panting by the end of his rant. He hadn’t dared to pause to take a breath, afraid Hamilton would butt in and interrupt him.

“What? So, I’m meant to feel bad now?” Alex grumbles, and he sort of did look regretful, to some degree. But there’s something else in his face. Something holding his expression back from relaxing, a tension that had sat between the two, not since their first meeting, but shortly after.

“Sorry, but you didn’t exactly give me a lot of reasons to believe you didn’t deserve my distrust.”

“And that.” Laurens points at Hamilton, “-is my exact point, handed to me in a bow. You needed reasons, you needed something you thought I had to have to prove myself to you. Once you knew I was a Laurens, I needed proof of everything good about me. I didn’t get the benefit of the doubt. It’s easier to just stay silent, to just do what people expect of me, to not rock the boat, because if I had to spend every day proving to every single person that I’m not what they presume me to be…then I’d have no energy left to do anything else.”

“Oh, you’re so full of shit.” Hamilton bit back, his temper raising to it’s highest point since they’d started this…argument? Debate? Conversation? John wasn’t sure what to call it anymore. But after being this honest with this roommate for the first time, Alex’s sudden anger and denial cut into John, bypassing most of the defences that he usually had between them. It hurt.

“You talk a good game Laurens, trying to get me to feel sorry for you, or bad for what I’ve done. But you’re forgetting I’ve seen the ugly side of you. The hate-crimes you can do so nonchalantly.”

“What are you even fabricating now, Hamilton?”

“Fabricating?” Alex explodes sadistic laughter following his disbelief. “So, I must be crazy then, is it? I must have imagined the word faggot being written across our white board. Your proud smile when I brought it up to you, like you were clever or original. You’re just another homophobic conservative with enough liberal opinions to consider yourself woke.”

For a crazy, heart stopping moment, the pair’s faces now inches from one another, John wildly thought about grabbing Hamilton by the scruff of his collar and kissing him. Their teeth banging painfully together, a rough short pressure between two lips that would mean nothing to them but show Alex exactly how wrong he is about John.

But the sudden embarrassment that blossoms as soon as he thinks of doing that, the clamminess he can feel in his palms, he can’t do it. He can’t kiss Alexander Hamilton like it’s nothing because no words or actions between the pair have ever meaningless, hurtful sure, but never void of emotion.

“I didn’t write it!” The words are as loud and passionate as Alexander’s own ranting.

“You expect me to believe that now? After- Jesus, you’re a joke you know that Laurens?”

“No.” John’s voice falls flat, his tone levelling off to the calmer environment they’d created at the start of all this. “I don’t expect you to believe me.”

He sits back on his bed, lying length ways on it now, his head resting on the two pillows he’d propped up earlier, when he was still reading. Ever since Lafayette, no, ever since Lee had shown John that image, John had been meaning to explain what had happened. But he hadn’t, he’d missed his opportunity with Hamilton and then with Lafayette and then their belief seemed out of his hands.

But it’s the truth. That’s the most painful part. How do you convince someone of the truth if all they have to go on is your word? And your word means nothing to them.

Alex is lost. He thought they were just starting to really get into the bitterness between them. He was expecting Laurens to continue, he’s already learned more about how the guy thinks and works in the last fifteen minutes, then he’d been able to work out himself in the last two months.

So many questions Alex had angrily thought about, complained about to his friends, suddenly answered. Tiny puzzle pieces of his roommate falling together in neat rows. Why is he stopping now? Why is he lying? Why would he lie after everything else he just admitted? Once you knew I was a Laurens, I needed proof of everything good about me. I didn’t get the benefit of the doubt.

He stares at John as he lies there, angrily glowering at the ceiling and ignoring Alex. With a hesitant breath, Alex sits down on Laurens’ bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settles beside Laurens’ knee. John pushes himself onto his elbows, feeling weirdly defenceless with Alex on his bed, hovering over him. He cocks his head to the side, studying Alex who has picked a spot on the wall on his side of the room and is stubbornly staring at it.

“Say…Say I did believe you. Who wrote it then?”

John blinks. He breathes. He can’t believe Alex just asked him that.

“Charles Lee. Him and his friends.”

“You’re his friend.”

“Wrong again.”

“You talk to him all the time.”

“I’ve spoken to him three times this semester, maybe four.”

“Yeah, well- well you look chummy when you’re together.”

Laurens rolls his eyes so hard he’s worried he might get them stuck looking in at his brain.

“You mean when he’s scoping me out for gossip for his dad, or trying to figure out if I’m going to come barging into the conservative party’s society and steal the position he wants? Then sure, we’re besties.”

Alexander looks like his world is tilting on its axis. He grips on to the edge of Laurens’ duvet, his knuckles white as he tries to formulate his next response. It’s clear he’s struggling to believe him. His eyes light up when he comes up with another argument, John almost winces at the sight.

“Then why’d you stop Lafayette from knocking his teeth in? He told me about that, you know.”

“I assumed as much.”

“So? No quick comeback for that? You two had a laugh about the whiteboard and then you defended him!”

“I wasn’t laughing, and I didn’t defend him! I was defending Lafayette!”

That gets a full second of belly laughter from Hamilton who looks like he doesn’t believe a word Laurens has just uttered.

“Yeah right, good one. The way you usually defend a queer person from a homophobe is by helping them beat on said homophobe, not blocking their punches.”

“Lee’s dad pays more money to this school than the next three contributors combined, pays the most period, as someone whose dad just about makes it into the top twenty of that ranking system, believe me, it’s a lot of money. Had Lafayette laid so much as a finger on Lee that night, he would have found himself expelled by the end of the week. It wasn’t worth it.”

“And that was your decision to make? You were a witness, you could have backed Lafayette up, said it was all in defence.”

“Physical defence as a reaction to verbal harassment wouldn’t win in an argument between Lee’s father, the president of this university and two students. They’d just preach about all their shitty mental health facilities and frame Lafayette as a bad guy for not reporting Lee. They’d spin it that Lee should have gotten a warning, not a beating.”

“How can you be on their side about this? If you dislike lee so much.”

“I’m not!” Laurens growls, pushing himself up so he’s sitting straight. Alex and he are eye level now, and once again inches from one another.

“I’m just saying how things are. Look, I get it, if you want to be angry at me for being a coward who knows how a system works, then sure yeah, I can take that. But don’t turn it into me being a homophobe who goes around using the ‘f’ slur, because I don’t.”

Alex is trembling at this point. His body and mind aching to find another hole in Laurens’ argument. He can’t have gotten it this wrong. He can’t have imagined all this about John. He has to be right; he just has to be.

“Why did you smile when I came into the room that night, then? You acted like you knew what I was talking about.” Alex’s words are smaller now, more compact, and careful. His stomach still twists at the memory of it, seeing those words, feeling a million eyes watching him and taunting him, how unsafe he felt behind the wooden escape of his own bedroom door.

Laurens grimaces as he remembers the misunderstanding. He can feel heat on the back of his neck, red tinting his ears, and he finds himself rubbing at the back of his head, trying to shoo the embarrassment away.

“I uh- I had played a prank on you that week, that’s what I thought you were referencing. I never even saw the whiteboard message until the next day when Lee showed it to me. Which-” He points a finger at Alex who already has his mouth open to interrupt him, “Was part of the very few, brief, moments I have spoken to that man in the last two months.”

Alex frowns at John’s explanation.

“What was the prank then? I never saw it.”

The blush crawls up John’s face as he remembers how stupid it was. How dumb they both were for those two or three weeks. Their madness being fuelled by the other’s overreactions.

“I uh- god it sounds dumb now that we’ve stopped the petty prank thing…but yeah I changed some numbers on your phone. Messed up any that were starred or favourited, swapped some for pizza places. You left your phone open when you went for a shower one day. It was playing something on YouTube, and I just took the opportunity…”

Hamilton is staring at him, wide eyed and mouth gaping.

“You-” His voice was deathly silent, disbelief and anger mixing together to form a sound more terrifying and hair raising than anything John had heard out of the man before. “You’re the reason I accidentally called my foster dad and opened with ‘Hey man, you still down to get wasted and hook up?’…”

John’s bottom lip trembles for a moment, he bites it briefly, trying to stop the flood of laughter that’s bursting forth from his chest. He’s wheezing by the time Alex has started hitting him, the younger man’s arm windmilling madly as he slaps at John’s chest and arms, the older man not doing much against the attack bar batting his hands back in defence. It’s oddly playful.

“I thought my shitty phone was malfunctioning! I brought it to a phone shop! They literally wrote ‘random calls to pizza places’ on my ticket!”

John’s laughter has gone silent, tears streaming down his face. He clutches at his stomach, falling back on his bed in agony as his stomach cramps up.

“P-puh-please stop. I- I can’t take it.” He begs as he madly gulps for air, trying to catch his breath in between the explosion of giggles.

“This whole time, that was you?” Alex groans, running his hands through his hair and pulling at chunks of his locks. “I can’t believe this.”

John manages to wipe away the tears and lean on his elbows again. He hasn’t laughed that hard in while, he’s not sure if he can remember when, he tries to recall. Who knew he’d share the moment with Alexander Hamilton?

“So…you really had nothing to do with the whiteboard? And you also secretly can’t stand Charles Lee?”

Alex asks the questions slowly, like he’s wary of John yelling sike! And having three of four secret camera pointed out to him as John laughs in his face.

“It’s not a secret. Only Lee hasn’t coped on. Burr figured it out from watching one interaction between us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this sooner?” Hamilton groans, leaning back over Lauren’s shins without so much as a glance in the man’s direction.

“I told you. I don’t plan on spending my life convincing others of my character.”

“Okay, but I’m your roommate. Clearly, it would have made out lives a lot easier if you’d just told me.”

John doesn’t hesitate to throw one of his pillows at Hamilton’s face. The guy has the audacity to laugh behind the fabric.

“Can’t get a word in edgeways with you around.” John counters, getting only a thoughtful nod from Hamilton.

“You had my e-mail; you could have just sent me an e-mail.”

“Alex.”

Alex tilts his head over his right shoulder and swivels until his eyes are poking out between the strands of hair falling in his face. He feels apprehensive, why was John calling him by his first name. Is there talk about to get more serious?

“Shut up.”

False alarm.

Hamilton grins, a warmth settling in his chest as they fall into an easy silence.

Almost like the outside has been waiting for a pause, a crack of lightning flashes past the window, thunder booming shortly behind, destroying the serenity they had just created.

Laurens stares curiously through the gap in the curtains, admiring the stark white lighting up the night sky, before his attention is back on Alex who is now averting his gaze from both the window and John. His hands are fidgeting, his nails cutting into the flesh of his palms. Right. The guy hates storms.

John pulls his legs out from under Alex, ignoring the brief uneasy glance that earns him as he leaves Alex on the bed and rummages through his desk’s drawer for something. He closes the curtain properly before he sits down again. This time he grabs the pillows off Alex’s bed and hands them to the guy.

Then he cushions the wall running along the length of his bed with two pillows and slots himself beside Alex, their shoulders and thighs pressed up against each other, their feet dangling off the edge of his bed. He hands Alex a wireless ear bud and grabs his laptop that he’d discarded when Alex had first startled him.

Alex stares dumbly at the pod sitting in the palm of his hand.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re going to watch a film.” John shrugs, typing in his password with speed and precision.

Alexander cocks an eyebrow at the certainty in John’s voice.

“Since when do we watch films together?”

“You ever see this before?”

John has opened Netflix at this point and typed in the first light-hearted, distracting film he could think of, Megamind.

“John.” Alex’s tone was tense, defiant. “You- You don’t have to do this.”

“Shut up.” Alex freezes at the command, staring at Laurens like he’s a villain again. John pushes himself to take another breath to centre himself, before continuing in a softer voice, “No need to make this weird, or anything. Just watch the damn thing with me.”

Somehow, being mean to each other makes everything between them more comfortable. Alex mutters something else scathing under his breath directed at Laurens, but also relaxes his shoulders. This close, John can feel Alex unclenching his muscles, dipping further into the bed as he gets sucked into the colourful characters on the screen.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The movie as a distraction to the storm, works. A few times Alex still jumps, his hand clenching onto John’s arm, and for one awkward moment, his thigh. But Laurens doesn’t comment on it. Barely even twitches in response, not even a flick of his pupil to glance at Alex.

It reminds Alex of the version he’d seen of the man when he handled Coraline. It’s like John has this paternal alter-ego he brings out solely for shit like this.

Maybe Alex should feel more awkward. Maybe his guard should be higher because this man, an hour ago, had been his mortal enemy. But, at the same time, he’s known Laurens for two months now. Enemies or not, they’ve spent a lot of time together. Alex is eerily comfortable being this close to the man.

Before the final act of the film, Alex has fallen asleep. He’s slouching against John’s left arm, his head tilting and resting on John’s shoulder. If he was awake, he’d be mortified. But for now, he sleeps without the usual nightmares that plague him when there’s a storm.

The movie eventually ends. John can still hear the remnants of the storm outside. So, he decides he’ll sit there until it stops. He wasn’t going to risk waking Alex up when the guy has found a way to sleep in these conditions.

Maybe, a small guilty voice mutters behind John’s eyes, you don’t want to move because you’re enjoying this. John studies Alex’s face as this thought crosses his mind, his eyes flicking too frequently to the other’s lips.

He thinks about how much he’s seen those lips flapping. Giving off to him, arguing with him, plotting against him. Tonight, they’d laughed at him, laughed with him, apologised and thanked him. John thinks of how often he’s been excited to see Alex, all the excuses he came up with for that. Like, wanting to keep him in sight so he couldn’t be plotting a new prank or needing to see him to work on their project, that they’re already way ahead on. John bangs his head softly off his bedroom wall as he slowly realises, he’s always been coming up with ways to see Alex, to rile the man up, to see him emotional.

Maybe John was searching for a different emotion on Alex’s face all those times.

Love and hate are two of our strongest emotions, Jack. They’re easily confused.

He never understood that quote. It was one of his mom’s favourites. He always thought the concept of not being able to differentiate love and hate from one another was ridiculous. They were opposites, in heart and mind. Or so he thought.

But now, now he understood.

Hamilton snores softly, something that once bugged Laurens, but now he couldn’t imagine the room at night without the noise. Even the drool leaking from the corner of the guy’s mouth didn’t disgust him. That should definitely disgust him.

John Laurens is screwed.

Chapter Text

Alexander wakes before his alarm for once. He turns over in his bed, nuzzling his face into his pillow. It smells better than usual. Had he used a different detergent?

His hands clutch to the duvet, his fingers trailing over some kind of embroidery… Alex didn’t have any on his duvet though…

His eyes shoot open, and despite being on his left side, he was staring at the wall. This wasn’t his bed. He sits up, half in panic, and looks around wildly. His eyes land on a body lying in his bed, the familiar head of hair that belongs to his roommate.

Alex’s cheeks warm as he realises, he’d fallen asleep in Lauren’s bed, and John must have pulled the duvet around him. His roommate makes a noise and Alex quickly lies back down, staring at the wall again, playing at being asleep.

He did not want to have an awkward morning conversation.

Alex can hear Laurens’ stretching, his hand flailing out to reach across the bedside table to grab his phone. The sound of typing is the only noise in the room and Alex prays John hasn’t noticed that he’s stopped breathing.

“You up?” John yawns, sitting up in Alex’s bed. The younger man looks dead to the world.

Hamilton grunts in response, sliding further beneath the covers. Drama queen. John was always up first.

“I’m taking the shower.” He claims as he climbs out of Alex’s bed, padding into the bathroom.

Alex signs in relief as the shower clicks on. Why was his heart racing so badly? It’s not like he doesn’t wake up in the same room as Laurens’ every day. Usually, in your own bed.

He quickly gets out of the bed, trying to shake off the awkwardness pricking up his spine. He gets changed, deciding he’s not waiting around to bump into Laurens again, fresh out of the shower.

He needs to talk to Lafayette and Mulligans, tell them about their surreal evening. That he’s been wrong, that John’s…this whole time he was…Alex shimmies into his jeans, pushing his feet into some runners before sprinting out of the room, hoodie half on.

“What- What I’m coming.” A tired and grumpy Hercules opens the door to a hysterical Alex that has been banging non-stop for the last ten seconds.

“Alex what’s-” Mulligan doesn’t get to finish his question before Alex is pushing past him into the room.

Lafayette grumbles as he sits up, his hand reaching for a glass of water on his bedside table. Well, this is certainly one way to be woken up. His

“I was wrong.”

“Well, there’s a first.” Hercules scoffs as he closes the door behind them.

“About?” Lafayette pushes, reaching for a t-shirt on the ground to cover his chest, the rooms were getting colder every day.

“John, John Laurens.” Hamilton answers, pacing tracks into the rug between their beds. The two share a cautious look as Alexander proceeds to freak out.

“Okaaaay, well why don’t you explain to us what happened, Alex?” Lafayette furrows his brows, wondering if this was all to do with Coraline yesterday.

“I listened to Burr’s advice and-”

“Burr gave you advice” Mulligan sniggers as he sits on his desk chair, wondering how long this will be, he needs his morning coffee.

“Yes- that’s not the important part here.” Alex points menacingly at his friend, earning him a mock surrender in the form of two raised hands. The pair are starting to get the impression that now was not a time to interrupt their shorter, more frantic friend.

“Burr told me I should talk to him, and then after yesterday evening I was like, okay, sure, might as well…I mean at the very least I could get him to admit how much of a jackass he is. But then everything flipped, and it turns out it wasn’t him that wrote on the whiteboard, and he only protected Lee because he though Laf would get expelled if he let him hit Lee and- and he only debates on the sides of topics that he thinks won’t draw attention to himself, in case someone catches him out and it goes online- and- and it’s all been, he’s been- I don’t even know.” He collapses onto Lafayette’s bed, his head in his hands.

Lafayette lets out a breathless swear in French, placing a comforting arm around his half-brother’s shoulders.

“Mon petit lion, you need to breathe…you’re sure all of this is the truth?”

“Aren’t you.” Alexander sighs, turning his head enough to look at Lafayette. “He found Coraline.”

“Well…yes…that is true. But one good deed doesn’t-”

“It’s not just one though.” Alex groans, scratching at his scalp as he tries to find solace in some sensation other than frustration.

“Did something happen last night? When you went back to the room?” Mulligans questions, his eyes narrowing as he wonders if Laurens has managed to pull the wool over their friend’s eyes.

“We talked…and I kind of lost it at him.”

“No surprise there.”

“Shut up, Herc.” But Alex was smiling now, just barely.

“But he didn’t exactly argue back…or- I mean…it was more vulnerable than that. I know what he’s like as a debater, and it was different. It is different. He’s different.”

Lafayette is nodding his head now, thinking of the art class he spent with the guy. He can understand what Alex is saying. How Laurens’ can act.

“You’re sure?” Lafayette asks, because he must, because it’s such a big revelation at this point.

“Yeah. Yeah, I really am.” Hamilton sighs, feeling a lightness in his chest as he realises his friends aren’t going to argue against him on this. He thinks of Laurens’ arm, warm and sturdy under his touch last night when he was afraid. He thinks of waking up covered and rested after a night that should have drove him insane. They’d been such idiots.

“Man, I don’t know how we break this to the Schuyler sisters.” Hercules laughs as he heads to the bathroom, shaking his head at the situation. And, they said college would be less dramatic…

Alex groans at the comment. That’s right, now he’s got to admit he’s wrong to like…everyone. It’s going to be a long day.

----------------------------------------

“I’m sorry…you and Hamilton are friends now?”

Laurens’ does his best not to cringe at the statement. It sounds so bizarre when spoken aloud.

“I suppose…I’m not sure really…but we talked things through.”

“Did he apologise?” Burr is stirring his sugar slowly around his second cup of tea, his eyes locked to Laurens’, trying to read the emotions hidden in his friends anxious shuffling.

“Uh- Maybe. I don’t know Burr, it was…a lot. I think we both just sorted out all the silences, all the miscommunication and… I don’t know! He was nice to me, for genuine reasons, not just working together, and…he did sort of think I had committed a hate crime against him…so that’s spoken about too!”

“I’m sorry he thought you what.” Burr’s tone is sharper, he leans forward furrowing his brows, looking dangerously still.

“Well…remember our little prank war?”

“The one that lasted the whole first month of semester and had me pulling superglued snow globes from your ceiling for two hours? Yeah, rings a bell.”

“There was a bit of a misunderstanding and he thought I had called him a faggot…which I totally hadn’t! It was Charles lee, if you can imagine that, but it- well it’s a dumb story but Hamilton thought I’d done it…and yeah…one of the bigger reasons why the guy despised me so much.”

“Ah yes, he mentioned that to me actually.”

“Wait, he what?! You never told me.” Laurens gasps, choking on the crumbs of his pastry as he places it messily back on his plate, wiping his jam covered fingers across his napkin.

“It was just before you went to see your friends, I haven’t seen you properly since.” Burr shrugs. “And it seemed Hamilton was going to speak to about it himself, which evidently he did.”

“And if he hadn’t? Did you think I’d actually done it?” Laurens’ heart is beating quickly now, thrumming under his jacket. His face felt hot, flushed. How many people had Hamilton blabbed to?

“Of course not, John. I know you better than that.”

Now John’s face is warm for a different reason, he can feel the flush swimming across his neck. He looks down at his almost empty teacup, his fingers now playing with the handle as he nods his head as a response, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He truly has made a wonderful friend.

“So, the war is over apparently?” The pair’s comfortable silence is broken by Jefferson plopping himself into their booth, squashing Laurens against the window as the taller man sprawled across the cheap leather.

“War?” John dares to question, raising a brow as he looks down at the man now resting his head against John’s shoulder.

“With you and Hamilton. It was all Angelica could talk about this morning when we met for our pair project. I didn’t believe her at first, maybe I still don’t.” Jefferson sits up properly now, excitingly staring into John’s eyes. “So, is it true?”

“Uh, yeah. Sort of, I guess…”

“Man, pigs truly do fly.” Jefferson laughs, smiling at the waitress as she takes his order and potters away.

“You two will be the talk of campus all week.”

“Hardly, who’d be interested?” Laurens scoffs, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention as he imagines invisible lips flapping about him, eyes staring at him from across the café.

“Hmm, I don’t know, any law student who has had the pleasure of seeing you two go head-to-head in class. Not to mention the debating society, those in your dorms that had to bear witness to you prank war…you’ve both made quite the stir around here with your rivalry.”

John groans, slow and pathetic as he rests his head in his now folded arms, carefully pushing his cutlery out of the way first. Why did the pair of them had to be so publicly dramatic?

“I’d give it less than a week and the campus will have moved on to finals and Christmas gossip.” Burr tries to reassure him.

Jefferson just laughs, patting his arm.

“C’mon John, it could be worse, you could have announced you two were secretly dating.”

Even Burr joined in with Jefferson’s laughter after the comment. It was their usually bubbly laugh, but it sounded more sinister to John’s ears. It was hard to tell if it was ridiculous because it was John and Alex, or did they find it ridiculous because they were both men. John was in no place to go asking about their opinions on that particular issue right now…he did not need to lose his friends right now over being gay. They didn’t need to know yet.

John shakes his pair at the two, a fake grin plastered on his face.

“Yeah…that’ll be the day.”

Chapter Text

“We look ridiculous.” Alex decides, the bright yellow t-shirt clashing with his complexion and making him look like a walking-talking sachet of mustard. The name Hartley Hall was sprawled in black ink across the front and back.

“Maybe you do.” John jests as he walks out of the bathroom, his words muffled behind the motions of his toothbrush as he scrubs at his molars. He turns his head back into the bathroom to spit into the sink. “I think yellow might be my colour.”

“You look like a kid’s tv-host presenter from the 90s.”

“Is than an insult?” John questions, wandering over to his bed to pick up his jacket.

“Yes.” Alex laughs as he playfully shoves Laurens out of his way to grab his phone from the bedside table.

“You don’t have to play you know.”

“And let one of the other dormitories win?” Hamilton exclaims, horrified by the thought of losing.

Laurens rolls his eyes. Of course, that’s what Hamilton would be worried about.

“Pride will be your downfall.” John ties up his sneakers, missing Alex’s scandalous expression.

“Me? Prideful? Have you looked in the mirror?”

Before the pair can devolve into banter, a new word that now suited their amiable bashing, there was a sharp knock on the door.

“Alexander! If you don’t hurry, we will leave alone!” Lafayette’s threatening voice was enough to stop John’s next retort in its track.

“Coming!” Alex grabs his pre-packed kit for the event and skips towards the door, hesitating as he reaches for the doorhandle. “You want to come with us?”

The question hangs in silence, creating an awkward pause. The pair are still getting used to inviting one another to do anything outside of their room or a college project.

“Nah, you guys go ahead. I promised Burr I’d head to the quad with him.”

“Cool. See you out there.” They share a brief smile before Alex disappears out into the hallway, hollering with his friends, their voices growing fainter as John gets the rest of his stuff together.

He throws some sandwiches, chocolate, and a water bottle into his pack, preparing for a few hours’ worth of snacks, adding a power bank, just in case.

Then he makes his way down to Burr’s room, his fist hanging in the air as Burr opens the door without John even needing to knock.

“You’re bringing a bag with you?” Burr laughs, raising a brow at rucksack.

“Have to be prepared.” John defends as the pair match stride, marching down the stairs to the lobby.

“For hide and seek?”

“It’s not just hide and seek! It’s a battle of the ages!” Laurens responds, throwing his arms around to hype the statement up. His heel clips a step as he does so, and Burr narrowly catches his elbow to steady him.

“A battle of the ages? You’re starting to sound like him now.” Burr tuts, watching Laurens’ feet until they reached the foyer.

“Him?”

“Hamilton.” Burr supplies, holding the door open for John as the pair make their way out of the dormitory and towards the biggest quad on campus.

“Oh, so now it’s okay to just insult your friends, huh?”

Burr holds his arms up in mock surrender, his mouth morphing into a grin as John scowls at him.

“I’m just saying, ever since you guys became friends, you’ve been spending a lot of time together.”

“We’re roommates.”

“Sure.”

“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” John huffs, kicking a loose pebble on the gravel walkway.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just observing, that’s all.”

Despite Burr’s words, Laurens feels a knot tightening in his gut. He has been spending more time with Hamilton, but it isn’t a conscious decision. Ever since the pair had stopped ripping into one another at any given opportunity, it had become clear how much the two had in common. Not to mention they’d started speaking French interchangeably with English. It was a rare chance for John to get to practise the language.

It feels unnerving for Burr to notice, although out of all of John’s friends, he’d be the one to call it out. Laurens’ just hopes that this observation is as far as it goes. Surely, Burr couldn’t know about the internal meltdown John has been suffering from ever since he admitted to himself that Alex was cute, that the pair got on…that sometimes it felt like there was something more between them.

But that can’t be the case. It could never be the case. John might get away with a secret boyfriend, hidden away from the media, but he could never have someone that shone as bright as Alexander Hamilton. The man has eyes on him before he even opens that big mouth of his. No. John refuses to admit to himself that there’s anything more between them. He likes Alex…as a friend.

“Well, hopefully you’re half as observing when you’re seeking, as you are when you’re watching me.”

“And you better be better at hiding from the other seekers than you are at hiding from me.”

“And what is it that I’m hiding?” John can hear his heart beating in his ears as he catches sight of Jefferson waving them over, the taller man standing in the middle of a throng of coloured t-shirts and chattering students.

“That you and Hamilton are becoming actual friends.” Burr laughs as he claps John on the back. He has to run off then, heading towards where their dormitory’s seekers were. John makes his way over to the hiders, the team he’d signed up for.

Some of the student council have decided to run a campus wide hide and seek game between the dormitories. The funds were going to several charities and there was going to be an open bar afterwards for anyone who participated. As usual, any mention of free booze and every student was joining in.

John’s steps felt heavy as he picked up his pace to a jog, weaving through the different coloured tops for the different teams. Why would Burr have thought anything else of Laurens’ recent behaviour. It’s not like anyone knew he was gay, not anyone here.

“There you are! Thank God you chose to hide, Madison and Burr abandoned me. I thought it’d be fun if we all hid together.”

“You going to pout for the whole competition then?”

“I’m not pouting.” Jefferson pouts, his eyebrows furrowing at the accusation.

“Uh huh, you think of anywhere good to hide?”

“A few places, we could try one of the rooftops of the science building.”

John thinks it over. It’s getting colder now, if it went on too late, they’d freeze up there.

“Hm, might get cold. Plus, we won’t have an escape if someone else gets up there.”

“The boat house?”

“Again, too cold.”

“What about one of the boiler rooms? I know one of the janitors in the law building, he unlocks the lecture halls for us to practise sometimes, he’d let us down there.”

“Perfect.” They high-five right as John catches eyes with Hamilton across the green. He’s standing with Lafayette and Elisa, they share an awkward wave.

“Wow, I’m still getting used to that.” Jefferson chuckles his eyes flicking between the two.

“Seriously? Y’all need to let it go.”

“Y’all?”

“The South comes out when I’m annoyed.” John shrugs, feeling weirdly self-conscious now that it’s been pointed out.

“Alright, alright, no more poking fun about you and Hamilton. Promise.”

John rolls his eyes but is happy to nod along.

“Alright! Hiders your time is starting! You’ve 15 minutes to hide and then our seekers will come find you. Your t-shirts must be visible at all times with your dormitory and position in full view. Feel free to put them on over jumpers or attach them to jackets but seekers must be able to identify you. Seekers! Your phones better be charged as you’ll need a clear photo of hiders to consider them caught. The game will wrap up at 10pm, so seekers have five hours to find everyone. Ten points to any hider that lasts the full time, two points for every hour you successfully hide and ten points to any seeker who finds someone, fifteen if you find them in the last hour! Hiders will be required to send pictures to our organisational group chat to ensure you’re hiding in an eligible location. Without further ado, let the games begin!”

“C’mon Laurens!” Jefferson took off at a sprint, barely giving John a moment to catch up as the two of began the ten-minute sprint to the boiler room. He took half a second to look over his shoulder to watch Hamilton sprinting in the opposite direction.

----------------------------------------------------------

“ This is an awful spot” Lafayette moans in French, nudging Alex with his elbow.

“ Maybe, but we have a great escape route.” Alex counters, twisting his neck to see the fire door that stood twenty feet away from the bleachers.

“ They’ll see us running for it.”

“But it’ll be difficult for them to get a photo!”

“Can you two stop arguing? Anyone that walks in will hear us.” Mulligan hisses, stretching out his legs.

The trio were squatting down beneath the bleachers in one of the many indoor basketball courts on campus. The only light came from high up windows decorating the perimeter of where the roof met the wall. Under the bleachers they were bathed in shadow and well out of sight. It’s a comfortable spot, plenty of room, as long as you can handle the dust and the stain of sweat that seems to waft from every corner of the gym.

“I’m pretty sure it will be your sneezing that gets us caught.” Lafayette whispers back, his voice raising as he smacks Mulligan’s knee.

“Hey, I tried to veto both of you! I told you my asthma would start acting up.”

Hamilton hushes both of them, straining forward from where he’s sitting to place a finger against their lips, his eyes narrowing.

“Enough, we’re going to get-”

The door to the gymnasium opens, a creak echoes around the room, followed by a solid bang that seems to reverberate in Alex’s chest. Three pairs of eyes silently flicker to the entrance as two seekers in red shirts begin marching around the court. The lights on their phone give away that their recording as they flash the phone through steps in the bleachers and behind the door of the storage room, slowly they make their way closer to the trio.

“We need to move.” Lafayette mouths, his lips making almost no sound.

The pair nod, the three of them crawling as quietly as they can to the edge of the bleachers. Hamilton straightens up first, sprinting for the door. As it creaks open, he hears something connect hard with the metal of the bleachers and a string of curses as Mulligan must have smacked his head on the way out.

Hamilton doesn’t pause in his running as he hears the seekers approaching his friends, he faintly hears Lafayette telling him to run as the two of them get caught.

His heart is racing as his feet bang off the concrete, his breath erratic, he prays that no one is around the corner of the gym as he desperately looks for anywhere to hide from the seekers.

He makes it out of the surrounding area and is now sprinting across campus, out in the open for anyone to see. He can hear people shouting in the distant and frantically runs towards the only spot available, under the patio of a nearby café.

The café is designed like a log cabin, and it has a three-foot-tall patio that houses a seating area. He has to crawl on all fours to get under a small opening that has been created from wear and tear. Underneath the patio is disfigured grass and lumps of dirt. His adrenaline is pumping so frantically, he doesn’t even have time to register how filthy he is by the time he’s fully hidden.

He also fails to notice the other person clearly hiding under there until he elbows them. His eyes glance up, his body lying flat in an army crawl and meets the eyes of John Laurens, curled up, his back against one of the wooden supporting beams of the patio.

“Please tell me no one saw you come in here.” Laurens sighs, trying to contain his laughter from watching Hamilton’s act of panic.

“I- I don’t think so.” Hamilton pants, pulling himself up a bit and dragging his legs beneath him. He twists around to peek outside the patio and doesn’t spot any seekers.

“Nope, think we’re in the clear.”

Hamilton grins at Laurens, looking prouder than he ever has before. John can’t help but feel something twinge in his heart from the goofy grin, the wiggling eyebrows, the dirt smeared on his roommate’s chin like war paint.

“You been hiding here this whole time?” Hamilton breaks the silence, now sitting cross legged, his head barely having to duck under the wood.

“Nah, was hiding in a boiler room earlier but started getting wheezy from the heat.”

“Ah, well looks like we have just another…” Alex glances down at his watch “Three hours to go. Good thing we can stand each other now.”

“Hey, speak for yourself. You’re insufferable to be around.” John teases, laughing at the stink eye Alex sends his way.

“Wow Laurens, that was so funny that I forgot to laugh.”

“Well, we all know you have a terrible sense of humour.”

“No one thinks that!”

“Sure, Hamilton.”

“You’re an ass.”

“Ditto.”

“Is it too late to get caught.” Hamilton jokes, leaning forward as though he’s going to crawl out.

“Yes.” Laurens leans forward, grabbing Hamilton’s wrist and giving him a stern glare. “You crawl out and we both get caught.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stick around. If you stop bullying me.” Alex stares a moment too long at Laurens’ grip on his wrist, glad that their hiding spot was dark so John can’t notice the hint of a blush colouring his cheeks.

“Deal.” Laurens doesn’t recreate the space between the pair, instead they sit shoulder to shoulder, not an unwelcoming feeling as the bite of winter finds its way to them through a rough breeze.

Around nine it starts to get cold, the kind of cold where you start to see each exhale illustrated by a puff of vapour, where every inch of skin is decorated by goosebumps and a tinge of red. John is sure if it was to start to rain at this very moment, they might just see some snow.

“I’m really regretting not bringing a jacket.” Hamilton admits, breaking a silence that had started twenty minutes ago when the two had begun to run out of things to say.

“Why didn’t you?”

“I thought I’d be hiding indoors.” Hamilton grumbles. He was only wearing a light jumper, with the game’s t-shirt on over it.

Now that John is paying attention, he notices how Alex is shaking, hiding his arms under his armpits in an attempt at warming them. Their stationary position, along with the moisture building in the grass isn’t going to help either.

“Here.” John wiggles out of his jacket and takes the hoodie he had on underneath off, passing it to a wide-eyed Hamilton as he puts his jacket back on.

“Hey- wait no, you’ll be cold.”

“My Jacket has fur lining. I’ll be fine.”

“But you only have a t-shirt on underneath! No, no way Laurens, I can’t just take your hoodie.”

“You’re not taking it; I’m giving it to you.”

“No, you’re not.” Alex throws the hoodie back at John, even though it’s warm from John, it’s soft and larger than any of Alex’s and he wants nothing more than to put it on.

“You’re acting like a child.” John throws it right back.

“I’m fine.” This time the hoodies smacks John in the face.

“Goddammit, you’re unbelievable.”

This time John breaks into Hamilton’s personal space and wraps his arms around him, pulling the hoodie around the smaller man’s shoulders. Alex grabs his arms, glaring up at his roommate, he opens his mouth for another scathing remark before they both freeze, the torch of a phone light shining through one of the cracks in the wood.

“The café is locked.” A voice speaks above them, the wood creaking as two pairs of boots pad along the patio, the wood groaning from the weight.

“No sign of a break in? I thought I heard voices.”

“No sign of anything in there. Maybe they were running past? Let’s check the fountain.”

The two seekers run off, leaving the pair alone again.

The two of them had stopped breathing, it’s only now they both let out a deep breath, tickling each other’s faces from the heat. Their eyes lock, their faces inches apart.

Suddenly, Alex doesn’t feel too cold. Similarly, John is secretly hoping Alex keeps denying the hoodie, that he could keep his hands on Hamilton, stay this close to the other man.

“You going to keep it now?” John whispers, the playful tone melting away for something softer, a tone of voice that Hamilton has never heard him use before,

“I suppose, if you’re going to be this stubborn about it.” The tone is biting, but Alex is smiling, his eyes scanning across the freckles on Laurens’ face.

John waits another moment, his brain racing to find more reasons to stay this close, but the moment passes, and he leans back to sit against the pillar. The pair can’t meet each other’s eye, instead Alex pulls at the damp grass and John checks his phone to see they’re down to the last twenty minutes.

“John.” Laurens’ turns his head, holding his next exhale until he breathes out to answer.

“Yeah?”

“What do you want to do after college?”

John is quiet as footsteps approach the cabin, as they fade, he tries to formulate a response that would satisfy Hamilton. If you asked John what he would have wanted back at the start of summer, he would have said he was going to be a surgeon. Now, thanks to his father, he’s technically on the career path to be a lawyer, or a politician.

“I’m not sure.” He answers honestly.

Alex is silent for once. The wind picks up and John pulls his knees against his chest, his chin resting on them as he scrunches his toes in his shoes. Alex watches the way John shifts and curls up, like he’s trying to put up a wall between them. He hadn’t expected Laurens to retreat at a question that Alex is surprised he hadn’t already asked him.

He wants to push it. To prod at the enigma that is his roommate. But there’s something about the shiver that wobbles John’s shoulders, the way his lashes flutter as he squints, his face pinching as John fights with his own thoughts.

“I want to be a politician.”

John laughs, his features relaxing, his legs uncurling into a more relaxed bend. Alex feels a pool of warmth in his gut from the sight.

“No shit, Hamilton. News to me.” Sarcasm suits his sassy roommate. It’s a much better look on him, Alex muses.

“I want to make a difference. Change things in this country. I think our generation can do it; I really do.” Alex lies back as he admits this, his head landing on the moist ground. He instantly regrets it, as he realises, he’s probably getting dirt on John’s hoodie. But his roommate doesn’t comment on it.

“Yeah.” John’s focusing on his shoelaces now, who knew they could be so interesting? “Me too.”

Alex holds back the tsunami of retorts that always resided on his tongue for Laurens. He’s not sure they’re suited for the other man anymore, maybe John deserves a chance.

John’s watch beeps, startling the two of them. It lights up on his wrist like a cube of light, he blinks the dots out of his eyes and double taps the glass.

“Times up.” John grins, eyes shining as they reflect the light. “We won.”

“We won.” Alex agrees, not solely speaking about the competition. 

Chapter Text

“What is it?”

“What’s what?”

“Hamilton.” Lauren levels his roommate with a glare, his eyes peeking out over his college textbook.

Alex sits across from John, both leaning their backs on pillows and dangling their legs off the side of their adjacent beds. John’s roommate was fiddling with his phone, spinning it around in his hand, bumping the edges off his palm in an almost rhythmic beat. Hamilton is clearly nervous about something; John just doesn’t have a clue what it could be.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Alex insists.

John pauses, almost baited into feeding Alex’s little charade. His roommate never knew how to speak about something without making it a whole drama.

“Fine.”

The best strategy to deal with Alexander Hamilton, John pulls his book higher, blocking their view of each other, ignore him.

The silence lasts all of thirty seconds before Alex lets out a loud huff and in the blink of an eye, he tosses himself onto Lauren’s bed, covering his eyes by draping his arm over his face.

“Okay, fine. Maybe there is something.”

“You don’t say.”

“Shut up.” Alex moans, his face turning a bright shade of red.

John couldn’t stop a smile from tugging at the edges of his lips. Hamilton always looks so flustered when he’s embarrassed about something.

“I- Well not just I…We were wondering…well, we being Lafayette and I…you see Madison isn’t interested, and we need three people…which I’m sure you already know about but uh...well look, we were wondering if you wanted to…if you’d like to…”

John enjoys the performance in front of him as Alex rambles. How he goes from lying down, to sitting up, to staring John straight in the eye, to leaning backwards and staring at the ceiling again. He stumbles through various attempts, John getting an idea of what Alex is trying to ask him but relishes in his struggle.

“-If I’d like to…?” John can’t help but tease as Alex looks set to burst from the effort of trying to get to the point. His cheeks puff out as though the words are expanding on the tip of his tongue, but he’s refusing to breathe them out.

“Forget it.” Alex relaxes, melting into John’s duvet and grabbing one of his pillows, hugging it tight to his chest. “It’s not worth it.”

“What?” No, no way was he letting Alex build up the question, just to leave it there.

“Never mind. I’m not asking you anything.”

“You can’t just throw yourself onto someone’s bed with a burning question and leave it at that.” Laurens pouts

“I can if they mock me.” Hamilton huffs, folding his arms over the pillow.

“Hamilton.”

“Laurens.” Hamilton imitates.

Their eyes lock then, this tense but mischievous energy sparking between the pair.

“Tell me.”

“Nope.” Hamilton is starting to grin now, as John narrows his eyes and flips onto his knees, glaring down at Hamilton on his back.

“You’re a child.”

“You’re smug.”

John is crawling forward now, his eyes on his pillow.

“You don’t get my pillow if you don’t tell me what you’re hiding.”

Alex stuck his tongue out as a retort.

The childish move made a record scratch play in John’s head. For a split second, his mind catches up to the fact that over a week ago they hated each other, now John feels at home for the first time since he came to college. He hadn’t messed around like this since the summer when he was minding his siblings.

He isn’t sure how in a week Hamilton has managed to bring this side of him out, but given that their hatred had involved a ridiculous, childish prank war, maybe this was the natural next step in them becoming friends.

John lets out a deep breathe, clearing his mind of scattered thoughts, then he lunges.

Hamilton yelps as John’s weight comes crashing down, nimble fingers clawing at the side of the pillow, trying to find a grip on its edges. It’s in this entanglement of limbs that Laurens ends up grabbing at Hamilton’s side by accident, digging his fingers through the thick hoodie and into squishy flesh.

The next thing John is aware of, is a stinging in his cheek. He realises he’s now looking sideways, his hand slowly rises to touch the heated side of his face. Hamilton’s yelp still rings in his ears.

He stares down at Alex, who is now staring up at John in horror.

“Did you just slap me?”

“I did not mean to do that! I swear, fuck, are you okay?”

Alex’s wide eyes and pale face confirms that whatever just happened, was some kind of reflex.

“Hamilton-” A sly grin begins to stretch across John’s face. During the lunge earlier, he’d managed to sit himself on Alex’s thighs, his own legs tense as he finds a better grip.

Alex can see the realisation dawning on Laurens’ face, can tell by the narrowing of his roommate’s eyes and the slow crawl of his arms gravitating towards Hamilton again.

“Are you ticklish?”

Before Alex can argue, or slap John again, the taller man shoves his knees forward, capturing Alex’s elbows and preventing another red cheek. As his roommate cries out a warning, a threat of the highest standard if John so much as lays a finger on him…John digs his fingers into Alex’s side again, this time on purpose.

“So, what was it you were trying to tell me earlier?”

Alex has erupted into giggles, his eye’s twisting shut as his body wiggles and squirms beneath his roommate. He hadn’t been tickled in years, Laf used to do it to mess with him, but now, thinking back, Alex couldn’t remember the last time he had.

He wasn’t used to it, and annoyingly, like everything John tries, he seems naturally good at it. Alex can practically see the nerves in his stomach lighting up, can feel his lungs tightening in his chest as the usual panic of being tickled sets in.

“It wasn’t that you were ticklish, was it?” Embarrassment mixes with anger long enough for Alex to lift his head just enough to glare at John.

“Sh-shut up!” Alex tries to smack John again, on purpose this time, but all he can reach is John’s arms, and without enough momentum to actually hurt him.

“C’mon, I’ll be nice, cut you a deal.” John slows his fingers, moving them in slow tracing circles. “Tell me what you were hiding earlier, and I’ll stop.”

Alex considered it for a moment. He was going to have to ask John anyways, and this surely was more humiliating than the truth. But as Alex opens his mouth to reply, he realises that as soon as he’s given in, John will go back to whatever he was doing.

He stares up at the grin on John’s face, the light reflecting brightly in his eyes, the dimples popping from his cheeks, and Alex knows, he can’t let this end…not when he’s enjoying the view.

“I’m not really one to compromise, go fuck yourself.” Alex can’t help but laugh as John goes still, his mouth opens and shuts without a sound before a dark shadow seems to crawl across his face.

“Very well.” The pillow that had been blocking Alex’s stomach is flung across the room, hitting an adjacent wall before Alex even realises it’s gone.

“I can do this all day.” The threat sends an unsuspecting shiver down Alex’s back, before he’s thrown into laughter again. This time John’s hands dance across his stomach, before swooping low and running across his pant’s line and then pinching into the hollow of his hips.

Alex goes red within a minute, threats rolling off his tongue as he promises to kill John when this is over. Ever part of his body felt like it was electrified, he tried to watch John’s hands, to anticipate what was next, but that somehow only made it worse.

When tears start to roll down Hamilton’s cheeks, John pauses again.

“You ready to give in?”

Alex head flops back as he takes deep breathes before answering, trying to grab enough oxygen to breathe out a retort. John means to add to his question, to wiggle in another embarrassing jab at his roommate, but his words die in his throat.

He’s never seen Alex like this. His whole body relaxes beneath John at the pause, a grin is stuck on his face, his cheeks look permanently stained with a blush and his hair is messily falling out of his bun and sprawling across his face. He can feel Hamilton’s panting as his lungs rise and fall rapidly, can feel Alex’s body heating up from the ordeal.

John can practically feel the butterfly that flutters in his stomach, sending a dryness through his throat and a cold sweat down his back. Before John can properly spiral down into the oncoming gay panic, Alex is glaring up at him again.

“I plead the fifth.” Hamilton spits the words out, his voice dramatic and ridiculous on purpose. John can’t help but laugh, his worries momentarily forgotten again as he makes the decision that he will get this secret out of his roommate.

“I suppose that is your right.” John grins, enjoying the horror washing over Alex’s face as he watches his roommate’s hands disappear under the hem of his hoodie.

“John-” Alex tries to keep his voice stern, but he can’t help but squeak as John places his hands flat across Alex’s abdomen. His nerves are still fried, so even the warm touch of another person’s palm is enough to reduce Alex to giggles again, the sound inducing a calmness over John as he begins crawling his fingers upwards.

“No, no! Kn-kn-knock itahah- this is cheating!” Alex whines, managing to wiggle one of arms free, but only succeeds in holding onto one of John’s arms.

“There’s no rules in a tickle fight.” John states, matter of fact, as he ignores Alex’s grip and begins to count the ribs on either side of Alex’s chest. It was an old trick that used to drive his youngest brother insane, a sure way to make him do his chores when he was acting like a brat.

“Plus, with all this laughing, need to make sure you haven’t punctured anything.” John illustrates by scraping between the thin bones, his fingers clawing at any soft flesh it can find.

“Th-that’sahha, ahah, that’s bull-bullshit!” Alex groans, his giggles melting away for stronger bouts of laughter. He was beginning to get tired; he probably would have given in by now if he wasn’t fixated on the feeling of John running his hands along his chest.

Every time Alex looks up, John’s laughing too, this adorable expression plastered across his face. Alex is glad he’s already turned red, because he’s pretty sure he’s blushing at the sight. Is Alex that lonely? Is he projecting something onto this moment with his obviously straight roommate because he’s been lonely recently? Alex has been so busy trying to sort things for classes, debating, the LGBTQ+ events…he hadn’t really met anybody else…any man, specifically. He’d just about had enough time to see his friends in between the chaos…and any other free time he spent seething about Laurens. He’d been planning pranks, comebacks, plotting schemes and working out ways to piss his roommate off…now that Alex thinks about it…he’d probably spent more time with John on his mind this semester, than anyone else.

But that was because he’d hated him up until their talk…right? He hadn’t been obsessed with the guy…just pissed off. Yeah, just pissed off. Alex catches John’s eye as he trails his fingers towards Alex’s armpits, his tongue absentmindedly wetting his lips as he smirks. Okay. Maybe Alex was lying to himself just a little-

“W-Whahah- wait!” The panic about the oncoming tsunami of sensation is enough to rip Alex from his thoughts and back to the present.

John’s hands still right before they reach one of Alex’s worst spots.

“Yes?”

Alex pants loudly, trying to buy himself some time, becoming increasingly aware how warm his thighs are getting from where John is perched, how Alex’s hoodie had ridden halfway up his bare chest.

“N-Not th-there, please.” Alex hates to beg, can feel shame and embarrassment swirling in his gut. But those feelings are nothing compared to the excitement Alex feels when one side of John’s mouth quirks upwards and his features suddenly look that they belong to some kind of movie villain. Alex is pretty sure he’s now more nervous about John hearing the thumping of his heart coming from his chest, then he is about being tickled again.

“Not where?” John plays the fool, his fingers slowly circling, inching upwards a bit at a time. He can see the bob of Alex’s Adam’s apple as he gulps, John can’t help but enjoy the deeper red Alex turns, the blush now creeping across Alex’s chest as he squirms in protest.

“Y-you kno-know where, you asshole.”

“Do I?” Alex wants to punch John in the face as giggles once again begin pouring from his mouth, as John’s fingers begin to scrap just under his arm.

Alex lets out a few strangled noises as he tries to compose an answer, tries to focus on anything but the stabbing sensations in his arms, the laughter choking his next breath.

“Where do you think I’m trying to tickle you, Hamilton.”

The taunting and the almost purring way John said his name, is enough for Alex to stop worrying about anything, except where all the blood in his body is currently going…because there’s no way his embarrassment from trying to ask John for a favour earlier, is going to be the cause of his roommate discovering that he is quite capable of giving Alex a boner. Nope, that is not going to happen.

“You know…” John speaks again before Alex can come up with a way out of this situation. “I’ve had a lot of fights like this with my siblings over the years, and with friends…and I can’t help but notice something is different.”

Alex stops laughing as John’s hands still completely, his face now hovering over Alex’s, close enough for them to lean in and- No. No. Alex has always questioned the existence of a god, but if there is one up there, don’t let John realise. Had he already noticed Alex wasn’t just flustered from the fight… Oh fuck…he was going to hate Alex again wasn’t he. He’d never really brought up Alex being gay before, despite how convinced Alex has been about him being homophobic…but surely, he’d draw the line at discovering Alex is developing a crush on him…right?

Should Alex be mad? Fuck John if he does, if he ends up being homophobic about it, then good fucking riddance. Alex doesn’t need that; Alex doesn’t need this guy. This is ridiculous, it’s getting out of hand like a school boy crush.

John leans in closer, Alex forgets how to breathe.

“What?” Alex is surprised he can even talk. His voice is soft, barely above a whisper, as he becomes transfixed by John’s lips, then the bump on his nose, and finally he’s staring into his eyes, frozen.

“You never asked me to stop.” Alex feels like a deer in headlights. “Were you enjoying-”

“Will you join Lafayette and I in the intervarsity debate next week.”

Alex and John are equally stunned by the outburst from Alex, as his question from earlier comes tumbling out before John can rush to any conclusions, and before Alex has to explain anything that’s going on in his head.

John’s eyebrows furrow as he figures out what Alex has just said, before he begins to laugh so hard that he falls off Alex and curls into his bedsheet, his arm gripping at his stomach as he tried to contain himself.

“H-hey, that isn’t an answer.” Alex draws his arms behind him and quickly sits up a bit, fixing his hoodie and using these precious seconds to calm himself down. He’s pretty sure that this is the closest he’d ever gotten to a heart attack. Now, he feels this hollowness creeping up as the moment dissolves, reminding Alex that nothing was about to happen…nothing could happen.

“All that-” John begins to compose himself, the words creeping out between laughs. “-because you didn’t want to ask me to debate with you?”

Alex’s pout and crossed arms are enough of an answer. John also notices a tension in Alex’s stance, like he’s tethering on the edge of a decision. The guy looks like he’s considering bolting from the room. Had John crossed a line with the teasing? Or was Alex really this embarrassed about asking for John’s help with something.

“Hey.” John sat up again, poking Alex in the side and feeling better at the sight of Alex smiling again, swatting at John and relaxing as he glared at him. “I’ll do the debate.”

“Really?” Alex had been hoping…but he thought John would decline.

“Yeah, I mean Jefferson is going to be with Angelica and some other senior I’m sure, so I’d need to find a team anyways.”

John’s not lying, but he doesn’t include that suddenly, the thought of arguing with Alex by his side, was making his stomach do little flips again.

“Man, I should have just texted you.” Alex grumbles, trying to hide how excited he now was.

“Or, you could have just asked me twenty minutes ago.” John can’t help but smirk, poking Alex one last time, before his roommate tackled him with a growl. He manages to wind him in the process and John laughs as he chokes, slowly getting his breathing under control as Alex settles angrily on top of him.

“Maybe I would have asked you if you weren’t so insufferably smug.” Alex argues, now his turn to stare down at John, his elbows resting on the other’s chest.

“Or if you weren’t so prideful…” John mutters, enjoying the appalled reaction on Alex’s face.

“You’re an ass.”

“Takes one to know one.”

Alex is about to bite back with another insult, when three sharps knocks echo from the door.

The pair stare at the door for a second, then turn back to realise how they are lying, and how close they are. In seconds, Alex has launched himself to his bed, muttering something about checking his notifications, while John is up and straightening his t-shirt, walking as confidently to the door as he can.

Burr stands on the other side, looking somewhat impatient.

“You ready to go?” He looks John up and down, noticing the lack of shoes, a jacket or even his laptop.

It was at this moment that John remembers he was reading earlier for his meeting with Burr, that they were going to discuss one of the assigned readings in the library…and they were meant to meet in the foyer ten minutes ago.

“Uh yeah, two seconds.” He smiles sheepishly, feeling Burr’s eyes study him as he retreats into his room to get his stuff. Alex and him barely say a goodbye before he’s racing down the stairs after Burr.

That was close. That was too close for something that wasn’t even going to happen but could get John in some serious shit if anyone did see something. He can’t slip like that again…no matter how much he thought about Alex’s laugh for the rest of the day.

Alex, on the other hand, screamed into his pillow as soon as John left. This can’t be happening to him; he can’t freak John out with any nonsense when they’d just become friends.

His hands are typing a message to Lafayette before he even realises it.

SOS. Crush on a straight guy.

Chapter Text

“Does he ever stop.” Laurens cries into his arms as he slumps over a table in a private corner of one of the main libraries on campus.

“He’s your roommate, no? You ever see him stop.” Lafayette groans, leaning back in his chair until it hits a bookcase behind him, now balancing his chair on two of its legs.

“He sleeps…sometimes, maybe.” John pulls his head up, resting his chin on his forearms. “Why are we doing this to ourselves just three weeks before finals?”

“Because one does not simply say no to Alexander Hamilton.” Lafayette opens one eye just long enough to meet Laurens’ gaze and the two of them can’t stop themselves from bursting into quiet laughter. They must be delirious from the hours they’ve spent in this dimly lit corner, staring at their laptop screens.

“What are you two giggling about.” Alex frowns, returning from the vending machine with an armful of snacks.

“Nothing.” The both of them react in sync, bursting into another fit as Alex’s face transitions from confused to furious again.

“Remind me never to leave you two alone again.” He mumbles as he takes his seat, tossing snacks around before he start’s gulping down an energy drink.

“You can’t drink that at-” John glances down at the watch ticking away on his wrist. “Guys, it’s almost eight.”

They’d been here since noon.

“That’s it, thirty more minutes and I’m going for something to eat.”

“I just brought you food!”

“A chocolate bar and gummies are not dinner.” John argues, ignoring Hamilton when he sticks his tongue out at him.

“I have to side with John on this. J’ai faim.”

“No, no sides! John is not becoming our friend just to gang up on me!”

John rolls his eyes, tossing a gummy at Alex’s head which almost causes Lafayette to fall off his unbalanced chair.

“Twenty-eight minutes left, you want to keep arguing about this… or get back to writing a winning opening for the debate.”

“That wasn’t two minutes.” Alex grumbles, clicking back into his word document.

John smiles at Alex for a moment too long, watching his roommate’s brows furrow the way they always do when he’s focused, his eyes twitching backwards and forwards like he can scan a whole page in seconds.

By the time John finally returns his gaze to his own computer, he realises he can’t read his own speech prep anymore, the words are dancing now to the beat of his racing heart as he tries to swallow down whatever those feelings just were.

During this panic, he misses Lafayette’s eyebrows raise, the French man glancing quietly between the pair. No. No way. John Laurens was the straight guy Alex has been alluding to… and now Lafayette is seeing something too. But is John even aware of the signals he’s sending? Or is it some weird straight people gaze…Lafayette didn’t have any straight friends to ask…he’s just going to have to keep an eye on John.

“Well, you look…”

“Exhausted?” John supplies, slipping into a booth beside Burr as Lafayette and Hamilton fight over who gets to sit beside the socket under the window.

“Just a tad.” Burr smirks, sliding a menu over to John.

“Laf, I told you! I told you on the way over here that I needed to charge my laptop so I can write up the rest of my conclusion!”

“Your charger will stretch, my phone charger will not, therefore, I get the window.”

“The charging port is on the wrong side! It won’t reach.”

That pair banter back and forth, pushing at each other as they both try to squeeze in to get to the spot.

“I can see why you might be tired.” Burr sips on a cup of tea as he watches the display.

“I’ll settle it.” John sighs, standing up.

“John tell Laf that I called it outside the library-”

“No, tell Alexander that it makes no sense for him to-”

They both go silent as John pushes both of them out of the way and slips into the other window seat. Burr silently slides the menu across the table to him.

“I think I’ll have a burger.” John muses out loud, ignoring the shocked and hurt faces the grown men were wearing as they tried to process what had happened.

“They’re out of lettuce.” Burr warns.

“It’s always something.”

Lafayette pouts as he sits down beside Burr, passing the other man his phone and charger with pleading eyes. Meanwhile, Hamilton slides into the small booth glaring daggers into the side of John’s face.

“I’m not moving.”

“You’re not even using the plug!”

“You don’t need it.”

“Did you miss my whole rant about the laptop charger?”

“You don’t need a charger; you need one of these.” John slides his menu to Hamilton with a pointed look.

“Oh, laminated paper, yes my favourite.”

John took the mature response by parroting what Hamilton said back to the guy in the tone of a whining child.

“You’re insufferable.”

“You’re hangry.” Laurens counters.

“How do you two share a room? Do you ever finish an argument, or are you both so afraid of not having the last word that you just pick up where you left off?” Burr sounds exasperated but is  grinning at them as he speaks.

John thinks of this morning when he woke up to a debate with Hamilton, spent his time in the shower thinking of a retort and then they spent the whole walk to their first class tearing into each other…okay maybe it was a bit full on.

They pause as a waitress comes and takes all their orders.

“We don’t pick up anything, I always get the last word.” Hamilton continues.

“Enough, enough. I have heard all I want about debating today, please mes amis, can we talk about something else.”

“I agree.” Burr says almost in sync with John saying “Seconded.”

“Fine. But I got the last word.”

The groans from the rest of the group are almost musical in their timing and tones.

The four end up just discussing usual college life. Between them, they all run in very different circles, so they were able to swap some gossips and find out what some people on campus are really like. Which, of course, meant eventually Lafayette and Hamilton tried to poke the other two for information about Charles Lee.

“Burr is the more diplomatic one, I’ll let him answer this.” John smiles, chugging the rest of his milkshake.

“Oh, how civil of you.” Burr rolls his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know much of what he’s been up to since we got to college. Except that he’s vice president of the conservative party’s society or something along those line.”

“Was he always such a prick?” Lafayette bluntly questions while salting the last of his fries.

“Nah, he was a shy kid. More boring than insufferable.” John adds, trying to think back to when they saw each other as kids, if anything in particular had stood out, but it was difficult.

“I’m pretty sure it was attending an elite all boys private school for five years that evolved him.”

“Did you just use a Pokémon term?” Alexander laughs, some of the tension in his body dissolving after Lee had been brought up.

“I’m pretty sure the word evolved existed long before Pokémon…but yes actually that’s what I was going for.”

“He is closer to a weasel than anything as cool as a Pokémon.” Lafayette mutters, now stabbing his last chip into his ketchup like it was Charles Lee’s face.

“Did you guys go to a boarding school?” The question is asked lightly by Hamilton, but John gets the impression there’s some wariness to it. As though Alex is afraid something John says will trigger their hatred for each other once again.

“I attended one, although it wasn’t anything too dramatic, or personality changing.” Burr shrugs.

John’s pretty sure nothing could be dramatic enough to change Burr’s calm personality.

“I was mainly attending a local private school near my family home. Although I did finish off my senior year in one of the top private schools.” John tries to keep his voice even. He doesn’t want to set off Hamilton’s radar ears for suspicious answers.

“Was it for your college application?” Lafayette guesses, and in that moment, John could have kissed him.

“Yeah, my dad insisted.” Okay, mentioning ‘he who shall not be names’, even in passing, wasn’t the best idea. This close in their booth, where Alex’s elbows and knees were touching John’s, he could feel how Alex’s muscles twitch from the simple comment.

Oh, if only Alexander knew the real reason he moved was because his dad found out about his secret little ‘boyfriend’. If you could call finding the only other gay guy in your year and becoming fuck buddies a boyfriend.

“What about you both?” Aaron skilfully changes the focus of the conversation off of John and his father.

“Mr Washington organised our education for high school, so we both attended a private school near Virginia.” Lafayette explains, after Hamilton doesn’t butt in and start rambling.

But Alex didn’t want to speak for once. He didn’t want to have to explain to two trust fund kids that Lafayette’s parents left him enough money to move here to study, whereas Alex was chosen as a scholar kid to be fostered by the Washingtons. He loathed the idea of any pity being thrown his way, or any more questions being asked about his real family, or what happened to them. Laurens and him already dropped the ‘our mothers are dead’ card. That was as far as he was willing to take it right now.

Just then, John’s phone decides to ring. He takes a moment to discreetly check the ID and can feel bile bubbling in the back of throat from the sight.

“Scoot.” Is all he says to Hamilton, lightly pushing the other man until he slides out of the booth, John waits until the door to the diner shuts behind him before answering.

“John, I hear the intervarsity debating competition is approaching. Mr Lee was speculating about it at lunch, his son is competing. We agreed you would consider joining the debate team. I assume you will be competing with Charles?”

Of course, the first time his father speaks to him since he moved out, this is what he wishes to discuss. No doubt he was embarrassed that he couldn’t gloat about his own son, having to listen to ‘Mr Lee’ having a straight conservative altar boy must be earth-shattering to Henry.

“Hi to you too dad.” John can’t help his tone. “Yes, I will be competing. But against Charles I’m afraid. You’ll just have to brag after the competition when I’ve beaten him.”

“Hmm, well it is odd you didn’t think to compete together. Alas, I’m sure you’ve made very well-rounded friends to compete with.” Well-rounded was Henry Laurens’ code for ‘elite, American and straight’.

“Yes actually, I have.” John doesn’t know why he’s suddenly defensive. Two weeks ago, he would have laughed in the face of anyone who called Hamilton a friend of his, now though, John can feel his hackles raised.

“Excellent, I look forward to seeing you debate then.”

Miraculously, John doesn’t die from the saliva he chokes on.

“Seeing me? Father, you’re hardly attending?” John can hear his blood pumping in his ears. It makes a melody with the developing ringing in his ears. His peripheral vision starts to blacken as he leans against one of the blocked concrete walls of the dinner.

“Well, of course. Mr Lee is getting his jet out to the event, I can’t have him attending for his son, and I not attending for mine.”

No. No. No. This can’t be happening. Bad enough if his dad was attending under regular circumstances, the pressure of knowing he’s listening in the crowd makes John’s knee’s weak and wobbly. But the fact that John will be sitting alongside two of George Washington’s kids…

“I appreciate you wanting to come out and support me dad…but if I’m being honest, I’d rather you didn’t.” The silence on the phone is deafening. Even miles away, the face John can imagine his dad is making raises every hair on John’s body.

“Oh? And why is that?” If a sound could be a solid, then any noise Henry Laurens makes would be tiny ice daggers that dig directly into your brain, entering ruthlessly through the ear.

“It’s just…” Think John. “If you’re there, everyone will notice you. I want to compete and make my own name, my own reputation. You’d be the talk of the debate just by sitting in the audience.”

John knew he’d said the right things when he hears a chuckle through the phone. A very uncommon noise for Henry to make.

“Ah, I see. Well, I suppose you’re an adult now. That comes with wanting some more freedom and limelight. I won’t attend then. But I do look forward to hearing all about it.”

John’s body sags again the wall in relief, his eyes closing to savour the small win.

“Of course, father. I’ll keep you in the loop.”

“Excellent, well I better get back to some papers. Speak soon.”

His father hangs up without waiting for John to say goodbye. Another common occurrence.

John stays outside for another two minutes. He does some breathing exercises; cracks ever bone he can and finally shakes himself off. He turns the corner of the diner and the clear windows framed by neon lights come into view. He can see through them that Hamilton took his seat and is currently typing like a mad man on his computer. Burr and Lafayette seem to have bonded over something because both of them are locked in a discussion.

That…was a close one.

------------------------

“Wait…so you’re seriously doing the debate with John Laurens?” Angelica can’t keep the surprise out of her voice.

Eliza and she were both staring at Alexander like he’d just told him he was growing a second head.

“We made up.” He shrugs, hugging one of their throw pillows to his chest.

He’d gone over to Angelica’s dorm room to ask about intervarsity regulations, which had quickly devolved when Eliza had shown up begging to know about his team.

“We’re going to need more than that.” Eliza decides, folding her arms across her chest and staring down at him cross legged on the floor, while she perched on the edge of Angelica’s bed.

Behind her was a wall covered in pictures of Angelica and her friends, her sister obviously featured in a lot of them. Alex was chuffed to see he’d been added to the latest extension of the photos.

“What? You guys must have heard from someone that we’re amiable now.”

“Amiable? Out of the entire debating club, you decide only John Laurens can fit the third spot in your team. That sounds more friendly than amiable to me.” Angelica butts in, looking proud of herself.

“We are not-” Alexander has to cut himself off…were they…friends?

“Not?” Eliza sings the word as she flips onto her stomach so she can lean her head towards Alex, wiggling her eyebrows as she does.

“Friends. We’re not friends.” Possibly not true, but now he felt defensive with the look they were both giving him. Now, they’re giving a look to each other! One of those quick glances, but a hundred words are transferred kind of looks.

“Hey, no! What? What are you two conspiring about with that look?” He points his finger harshly at each of them, trying to reign together some level of intimidation.

“What look?” Angelica purrs, her smile broadening. “Eliza was there a look?”

“No, I don’t believe there was.”

“Why would we have a look?”

“Yes, why indeed?” Hamilton could see Eliza shaking, trying to hold back giggles.

Alex did not like the energy the pair were creating.

“What? Seriously, you guys are acting like I like him or something.”

“We never said that.” Angelica puts her hand on her heart, having the gall to sound surprised.

“We would never imply such a thing.” Eliza shakes her head.

“Okay, hah, hilarious. I hate both of you.”

“So…is the statement that you totally brought up by yourself…true in any sense?” Eliza climbs off the bed now, sitting with her back against it and joining Alexander at eye level.

“Okay…maybe I do see John as a friend.” Alex can feel the heat prickling off his cheeks and the back of his neck, he doesn’t dare meet either of their eyes.

“A friend that has you blushing like a fool?” Angelica is smirking now, also joining the pair on the soft carpeted floor.

Alex can feel a giddiness bubbling up beneath his skin. He usually loved moments like this. A moment where you start to realise you may like someone. A moment where your friends start to tease you and you blush and feel nauseous from the butterflies in your stomach, and none of it matters. It doesn’t matter because you’re falling in love. So, the world is stained in warm colours, and you become more aware of your heartbeat than ever before. You spend the day with a pit of excitement in your stomach at the mere thought of getting to look at your crush. In Alex’s case though, if these new feelings were not to be ignored, he didn’t just get to look at his crush, he freaking lives with him.

“John’s straight.” Any pretence Alex had going for him is washed away by the bitter and cutting tone of his statement.

“Have you asked him that?” Eliza questions, her voice softer now as she shuffles over to Alex, wrapping an arm around him.

“No, but well obviously, his dad is Henry Laurens. He grew up in the south surrounded by conservatives. We’ve never even talked about me being gay, not a mind if he is. He’d probably combust if I bring the topic up, all that internalised homophobia. It’s probably easier for us to just not discuss the gay tension I am totally creating in my own love-sick head.”

“Love-sick?”

Hamilton gives Angelica a deadly glare in response.

“Okay, okay sorry.” She puts her hands up in mock surrender. “However, maybe instead of letting your brain overthink at a hundred miles an hour, as per usual, you just bring it up in a conversation?”

“How?” Alex mutters digging his head into his arms. Why couldn’t he just be normal? Why couldn’t John still be a dickhead.

“Oh! Oh my god, I have an idea.” Eliza grins, slapping at Alex’s arm. “And you’ll be killing two birds with one stone.”

“What is it?” Alex asks warily, not liking how excited she looks.

--------------------------------------------------------

“But when are you next coming home, Jack.”

“I’ll be home right after my finals, just in time for Christmas.” John smiles at his siblings’ groans.

They were having their weekly call. Where as usual, John was settling weeklong arguments and helping them all out with different problems at school and with friends.

“We miss you.” James crosses his arms, looking almost angry.

“I miss you guys too. I promise we’ll have loads of time at Christmas to do stuff together.”

“C’mon guys, we’ll all see John soon. We need to get ready for dinner, as I’m sure Jack does.” His eldest sister Martha gives him a pointed look through the screen.

“I’ll talk to you all next week okay.” He signs his goodbye message and waves until one of them clicks off the call, the screen lighting up as it goes back to the messages in their group chat.

Hamilton times this precise minute to saunter into their room, the door banging behind him.

“Someone’s in a good mood.” John smirks, sliding his headset off his head and letting it rest on his neck.

Alexander responds by giving him the middle finger and promptly flopping onto his bed, face first.

“What? You run into Lee or something?” John sits up from where he’d been leaning on his pillows. He crosses his legs beneath him and does his best to study Alex, not that the back of the man’s head tells him much.

“No.”

Now John is worried. Alex never uses one-word answers.

“Well, what is it then, Mr Dramatic.”

Hamilton counts to five in his head, suddenly not so sure about the Schuyler sister’s plan and tries to delay putting it in motion.

“I like someone.” Alex mutters into his arms.

Oh. Oh. Suddenly John feels a bit queasy.

“Okay. Do they not like you back or something?” Laurens hates that he’s hoping that’s the case.

“I don’t know.” Hamilton still refuses to remove his mouth from the crook of his elbow, John can just about make it out.

“Did you ask them?”

Who could it be? John tries to propose a list in his head, but he realises quite quickly that it’s near impossible for him to do so. For all John knows it could be some random face at the Pride committee that John has not, and probably will not, meet. Unless this person becomes Hamilton’s new boyfriend…or girlfriend. Actually, John had no idea if Alex was into women as well as men.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

Alex lifts his chin up, taking a deep breathe and drawing ever inch of courage that he has to himself.

“Because I don’t know if their gay.”

So, it was a man. Somehow, that made the complex feelings a million times worse for John.

“Oh.” Alex turns his head to look at John for the first time since entering the room.

“What?” Laurens nervously asks when Alex doesn’t say anything, just narrows his eyes at him as though he’s studying him.

“Your tone changed.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“Yes, it did.” Alex sighs, putting his head back in his arms.

John shuffles nervously on his bed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, his fingers unconsciously pulling at a lose thread on his sleeve.

“It’s fine John, we don’t need to talk about gay stuff if it makes you uncomfortable.” Again, Alex lifts his chin so Laurens can’t misunderstand anything he says. The tone is mocking, like Alex is speaking to a child. But, having just become friends with the guy, John can pick up on a bit of anger…and maybe, a bit of hurt.

“It doesn’t make me uncomfortable.” John lies, well a half lie because gay stuff does not make him uncomfortable. Not when he’s speaking with Mariah, or his online friends, the people who he’s out to. But when he speaks to peoples who don’t know… it’s hard. It’s hard to not speak about himself, or his own experience, and it’s harder still to lie.

Alex lets out a bitter laugh “Sure.”

“It doesn’t.” John insists. “I just…wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“Why? I thought I made it clear the day we moved in that I was a raging homosexual.”

“Oh, I remember the raging part.” John takes it as a win that Alex looks at him again, even if it was to give him the stink eye. “And the other part, I guess I’m just surprised that you like a guy without knowing if their gay or not.”

Well, at least there was some truth to that too. John was so terrified of anyone finding out about him, that he barely trusted his own community with his secret, not a mind some straight dude that would have no concept of what outing someone could do to them.

“Oh yes, sorry, I forgot that gay people all know each other and that this should never be an issue.”

“Do you not all carry around cards proving it?” John teases, mainly trying to get enough of a rise out of Hamilton that he keeps showing his face.

“Please tell me you’re not being serious.” Alex sits up now, his lips pursed in disgust.

John laughs at the sight, laughing harder when Alex slowly realises he’s being played and throws a pillow at him in response.

“Forget it, I never should have mentioned my love life to you.”

“Is it a love life if the other person doesn’t know you love them?”

“I don’t love him! I mean, it’s just a crush!” Alex can feel the heat off his face, can feel a clamminess in his palms. Oh man, he never should have listened to Eliza, this plan sucked. Okay…maybe he was slowly figuring out that John doesn’t care that he’s gay…but Alex feels like he’s playing on a blade’s edge by telling John about his crush for him…without mentioning him by name.

“If it’s just a crush, then just tell him. What’s the worst that can happen?”

If only John knew, Alex thinks.

If only Alex knew how much of a hypocrite he was being, John thinks.

“He hates me because of it.”

John rolls his eyes.

“As someone who hated you just a few weeks ago, it is possible to come back from that feeling.”

Alex wonders if it would be possible to come back from that feeling twice. If John ever knew about his crush, ever hated him it for him, could they still be friends? Then again, maybe from this conversation, John wouldn’t hate him. Maybe it’d be worse. At least hate and love are similar. What if John just distanced himself from Alex? What if after nearly three months, just as he’s used to him as his roommate, John moves room. The thought that would have made Alex leap around in joy a month ago, now leaves a taste of dust in his mouth.

“You don’t get it…if I’m wrong, and he’s straight…he’ll never want to talk to me properly again or hang out. It’ll be worse than if he hated me. It’ll be like having an awkward ex…without the dating part”

Now that, John does understand. He remembers his first fling, a guy in his school that he grew close too. They started up a friend with benefits situation, both of them desperate to keep things quiet. It worked well, maybe at some point they might even have called their movie nights and fucking, dates. That’s in a world where Henry Laurens hadn’t walked in on them one night…luckily, they’d only been kissing…unluckily that was as disgusting to his father as if they had been having full on sex at the time.

Since then, they never talked. The one time they ran into each other in a store had been awful. Not knowing where to look, if they should hello or not…it was unbearable. It probably would have been easier if they just hated each other.

Alex takes John’s silence to mean the guy had no idea what he’s talking about. He probably didn’t, he had to be straight, this whole charade right now was pointless.

“You ever have this problem?” Alex isn’t sure where he gets the sudden confidence from, maybe this is just a desperate push at the end of a dying conversation, a prayer that he gets the answer he wants.

Every alarm bell sounds at full volume in John’s head. Wait, what? Surely Alex doesn’t know. Had the other man noticed? Has John accidentally been sending out non-verbal gay messages at full volume? Was that even a thing…

“Why would I need to know if a guy is straight?” The tone comes out colder than he means it to. He can tell by the way Alex flinches and frowns a little. He can’t win. John actually can’t win between the part of his brain that is denying that his hate for Alex might have just been an annoying bubbling crush that was frustratingly out of reach, and the other part of his brain that defends his secret sexuality like it’s Cerberus, three heads ready to bark at anyone that tries to broach the topic with him.

“Calm down, I meant awkward crushes in general.” Alex hopes he doesn’t sound as defensive to John as he does to his own ears. Well, at least Alex has his answer. He has no chance with John. Somehow, Alex is surprised by the burning in his eyes at this realisation. Why did he even let the sisters get his hopes up? Why did he take anything that has happened in the last two weeks to mean anything more than friendship.

Why did he let himself over-analyse John’s touch, his softness, the way he had taken steps to understand Alex, from his smallest ticks to his biggest. They were just roommates. Apparently, this is just what roommates do.

“Never mind, Lafayette and Mulligans will be more help.” Alex hops to his feet and tries to slow his dash to the door. But he can’t swallow the lump building in his throat, or the tremor in his lip. He needs to get out of here before he completely embarrasses himself.

He told himself he wouldn’t date in college, wouldn’t even think of anyone else, he needed to focus on his degree. Instead, John Laurens has been the biggest thing on his mind since their first introduction.

“Alex, wait.” His roommate doesn’t seem to hear him as he slams the door shut.

He stands in the centre of their empty room, his arm reaching out for the doorhandle, his fingers twitching, itching to open it. He could track Alex down, tell him he gets it, tell him everything. Tell him how he consumes his thoughts, how he’s raised every alarm in John’s head. How his whole life is threatened by the mere sight of the two of them in public, and bow despite that, John can’t stay away.

The silence stretches, eventually turning to static as John becomes aware of the sound of his own blood moving in his ears.

His arms fall back to his side.

He sits back onto his bed. He needs to call Mariah…

Chapter Text

“Tree.”

“Nope.”

“Tarmac”

“No.”

“Toyota”

“There isn’t even a Toyota around!” Hamilton laughs. John glances in the mirror to see Alex smugly crossing his arms and grinning as John fails to get his word in three guesses.

“At least tell me it was a tricky one.” John groans, wishing now he’d brought coffee with him. Not that Alex gave him any time to brew some at their communal kitchen.

“Tire.”

“You’re an arse.”

“Okay, now I’m thinking of a word beginning with…”

“I thought you wanted the back seat to sprawl out and study your notes, non?” Even Lafayette is reaching his breaking point for dealing with Alex before noon.

Alex doesn’t answer though. His eyes fix on a giant billboard they speed past.

“Oh! Oh, it says there’s a stop in two miles!”

“Non.”

“Laf please! I really need to piss.”

“Charming.” John sniggers,

“C’mon guys, wouldn’t it be nice to stretch your legs? Get some fresh air? Some coffee?”

Laurens squints his eyes as he looks out the car window. The land either side of the highway is cloaked in a pristine blanket of snow, leading all the way out to the horizon. A consistent shower of snowfall battles against the concrete road, trying to cover the tracks left by earlier drivers. Lafayette hasn’t dared to go near the speed limit ever since they’d hit an icy patch a mile into their journey. The coffee is needed, but leaving the heat of the car is not going to be fun.

“You know, you’re the one that said no pit stops, something about an early worm catching the debate.” Some of John’s sentence is lost behind a yawn, Hamilton had been a menace this morning. He’d dragged John out of bed a whole hour before his alarm.

“Yes, well we’re making excellent time!”

“How convenient.” Lafayette gives John an exaggerated eyeroll as he pulls his car off the highway and towards the truck stop.

As they get closer, John realises it’s one of the larger stops that feature a burger king, a large general store and what looks like a place for truckers to shower. About twenty trucks and several lines of cars surround the building. Lafayette bypasses them to drive up to one of the pumps.

“Might as well fill up while we are here.” Lafayette grumbles, crawling out of the car and stretching his cramped legs. Hamilton is already three paces towards the bathroom by the time John has unbuckled his belt.

“I’m going to get a coffee, you want one?” John asks as he slams the car door shut, his arms reaching above his head as he tries to stretch the knot out of his shoulders.

“Cappuccino, merci.”

John gives him a wave in acknowledgement as he trudges across the thin blanket of snow towards the shop’s entrance. After being in the heated car for the last two and a half hours, John can’t help but shiver at the drop of temperature and then the rise as he enters through the automatic doors.

The inside is a wide spanning building that has the general store bleeding into the burger king and then ending with a large entrance to the bathrooms. He’s about to walk over to the serve yourself coffee machine, when he realises there’s another turn in this shop, a café tucked behind another corner, residing by itself on the left-hand side of the store.

John makes his way over, noticing the area was decorated in wooden booths, counters, and flooring. The word organic and fresh is sprawled across any vertical surface it can fit on. There’s no queue, which is nice, so John can order quickly. But before he can find a place to sit to wait he hears a sharp clearing of someone’s throat.

“Well, well John. Fancy meeting you here.”

Oh fuck.

“Charles.” John turns away from the counter, now noticing Lee and his lackies crowded into one of the booths. John can’t believe he hasn’t noticed them. Otherwise, he would have taken his chances with the crappy machine.

“You should join us while you wait.” Lee’s grin was devious, John can taste the bullshit wafting from it.

He takes a brief glance towards the entrance to the shop, but from this angle it’s impossible to see the front door or the bathrooms. The coffee wouldn’t be long…

“Sure.” John must keep his guard up. If he’s too rude to this jackass, he might just tattle to his father about John’s recent friends’ development.

One of the goons had been manspreading across an entire side of the table, but he compacts just enough for John to sit uncomfortably on the edge of the bench.

“On your way to the debate I take it.” John can’t quite discern the tone, but he feels the hairs on the back of his neck flicker as Lee leans forward, resting his elbows on the table. His two pals were smirking now, like they all knew a joke that John had never heard.

“Yes, I suppose you are too?”

“Of course, of course. One of the biggest events of the year for debating, is it not?”

“For the winter term, I guess.”

Lee nods like he’s delighted John can agree.

“Correct, until the summer when the debates will get even further away, more prestigious, and much more likely to turn the head of law firms looking for up and coming graduates. Winning today could cement positions on future teams, as they do tend to get more competitive with the teams they enter.”

Lee doesn’t pose a question, but he pauses like he’s waiting for some sort of response from John.

“It’s not a guarantee. Many people not competing today will be competing later in the year.”

“Sure, the likes of Jefferson perhaps, but those are the proven diamonds. Today’s a day for the unrealised diamonds in the rough to shine, don’t you agree?”

Laurens notes that Lee manages to find one conservative man to use as his example. Ignoring Eliza and the other platter of talent that diversified and strengthened their college’s team.

“I haven’t really thought about it too much. I’m not too worried about being overlooked.”

“Well… you were always, how do I put this? A bit more naïve than a lot of us. Not your fault, of course, your father did a grand job of raising you to be his successor. You probably feel like most things in life will just fall into your lap”.

John can feel his face reddening. He’s not sure if it’s from embarrassment or anger. He can’t quite comprehend the way Lee views him, how he can make John sound. This egghead doesn’t understand anything about John. His summary sounds more like a projection of Lee’s own life.

“I can’t say I agree. I’m not so focused on filling my dad’s shoes. I’m a lot more interested in paving my own path.”

Lee nods like somehow, he expected John to argue with him.

“Admirable, truly. Well then, winning today will be more important to you. Although, I don’t think your teammates will do you any favours. If you don’t find me too bold, may I ask, what has possessed you to join forces with the likes of them? I mean, you don’t believe you can win an American debate with a couple of confused immigrants, do you?”

“Well, you certainly lost to them a few times at the weekly debates, didn’t you? Perhaps they’ll win again today.”

Any pretence of niceness is wiped from Lee’s face at the remark. John can feel his bench buddy glaring daggers into the side of his face. Somehow though, John feels eerily calm. He isn’t going to let this asshole unsettle him.

“Not if there’s an elite team there. A real group of debaters.”

“And that’s your team, I’m assuming?”

John glances at Lee’s two friends. The one nestled in against the window across from John looks somewhat academic. There’s a glint in the man’s eye that leaves John’s mouth dry, there was something disturbing behind his gaze. He’s been watching John like a hunter weighs up their chances with a wild animal, ever since John sat down. Speaking of animals, the hulk beside John can easily pass for a grizzly bear. John was sure there wasn’t more than one thought behind the man’s eyes at any one time. His crooked nose also told John that the man had it broken more than once, when he grinned John could also see a missing tooth near the front of his mouth. This man has seen a couple of fights, or played some intense football, either way it’s clear Lee has found himself a brains and a brawns.

“Almost.”

Almost?

“Laurens.” John turns his head as his name is called at the counter, two steaming coffees were left at the edge of the polished countertop.

“You know I’m glad we ran into each other here, John. I was going to seek you out at the competition before it started…but this is probably better. You’ll have longer to adjust if you accept my offer.”

“What offer?” John needs to grab his drinks; he needs to march out of this place and get back into Lafayette’s car and go back to playing stupid car games with his insufferable roommate and finally get to drink his morning coffee. But there’s something about the smug curve of Lee’s lips that leaves him unable to move.

“Join my team. Together, we’ll win todays debate and take the first step on our ladders to success.”

What? What kind of offer was this? John would rather give hulky beside him a free tackle, then join Lee’s insufferable team.

“You’ve made it very clear that you’re already aware that I have a team. So, if that’s all this conversation was building too, I must get my drinks.”

Lee doesn’t say another word as John make his way to the counter. He waits until John turns to leave to speak again.

“Ditch Hamilton and his little fag friend, Laurens. Be reasonable. What will people at the competition think when they see you debating with the likes of them? What do you think my father will say to yours? Afterall, they’re having dinner tonight, as soon as the debate is over.”

John knows he’s standing still. He knows his feet are planted firmly on the ground. But despite that, he can feel it moving, can see the world tilting before his eyes. He leans back on instinct, his hip digging into the wooden countertop, the pain a short relief in what had been a sudden fog of panic.

“Oh. Did your father not tell you? My father twisted his arm about coming, they’ll be sitting as inconspicuously as they can in the back row. Your father is aware of how worried you were that he’d steal the limelight. Although, I don’t think anything will be quite as show stopping as you and your little team.”

John’s father is going to be there. Henry Laurens is going to watch John as he debates with two public homosexual immigrants. No, that isn’t even the worst of it, it’s the two fostere sons of the one and only Washington. His father’s biggest competitor. He is going to hear John speak on behalf of whatever notions and opinions Hamilton has, and his dad will have to sit through it with his most uptight and snobbish friend right beside him.

John is going to be sick.

But he thinks of Lafayette…and Hamilton. What would Alex do if John turns on him now? Would he get it? Would he understand what Henry Laurens being at the debate would mean?

What did it mean.

How long could John stay in the grey area. Until his siblings were out of his father’s clutches? Until his father retired? Would John ever get to speak his mind, would he ever get the chance to speak as passionately as Alex, as fierce.

You’re almost as fierce as me Jack, my little temper tantrum.

 He had it inside of him when she was alive. He stares at Lee, then past him. His eyes now fixed to a crack in the window that he knew wasn’t there moments ago.

“We’ll see how little our team is when we’re on stage. I hope your father won’t be too upset when you lose to us, considering how far he’s probably travelled for today.”

Despite the tremor in John’s hands as he cradles the hot takeaway cups, Lee can’t tell that he’s rattled him. In fact, he practically chokes on his own spit at John reply.

“You can’t be serious John.”

If there is one thing that Charles understood better than anyone in John’s life, it is what Henry Laurens is truly like. Lee has his own version after all.

Lee doesn’t just look scared on John’s behalf though. Lee just looks scared. Lee is scared. The rat didn’t have a backup. He was counting on John folding at the sound of his father’s name.

Which, given how weird John’s knees were currently feeling, he probably had been close to it.

“See you at the debate Charles. All the best.”

Despite the rock in his stomach, John feels as light as a feather as he begins to walk away.

“Wait.”

John doesn’t know why, but he pauses. There’s something about the way a man speaks when he’s desperate that leaves one intrigued, and a bit nervous about what said man will do next.

“I didn’t want it to have to come to this John, I thought your father coming would make you see sense. But if you’re so protective of your little woke friends, then perhaps it’s time they knew the truth about you. Perhaps it’s time everyone does.”

Lee has his full attention now. What was he talking about? John watches as Lee stands, scrolling through his phone in a frenzy. Finally, he twists the screen around.

It couldn’t be.

John squints at the image before ripping it from Lee’s hands, trying to get a better angle. There’s no doubting it though, even with the lighting from the bar, there he was kissing Eric. How had Lee gotten this? When had someone even taken a photo of the two of them?

If the world had tilted when Lee mentioned Henry, then it was fully upside down.

“How- How did you get this.” John’s bravo is gone, he sounds hollow now, even to his own ears.

“A friend of mine from the area sent it over.” Lee shrugs like it doesn’t matter. Like John isn’t holding a grade A nuclear bomb that will change his life forever. That will take any choice John ever had for coming out away, thrusting him into the unknown in the worst way he ever could have imagined.

“So, there’s more than just this photo?” John’s finger hovered near the delete button.

“Of course, of course.” Charles hastily grabs his phone back, almost like he can read John’s thoughts. John doesn’t even put up a fight, the only thing he can fight right now is the ringing in his ears. He might be sick.

“Now come on John, no need to look so defeated. You do the debate today and in a few hours this picture won’t even exist.” Lee takes a step forward, then leans to almost whisper in John’s ear. “And your little slip up? No one needs to know. I know a man like yourself was just confused, I can help you, John. I’ve always just wanted to help.”

The words sound far away. Slip up. John had slipped up. He never should have let that photo be taken. He never should have pretended he had a chance at a life like that. He never should have allowed Alexander Hamilton to worm his way into his life, letting him fill John with all these promises of freedom. What did Alex know about John’s freedom? About John’s choices and options in life?

The truth is, John couldn’t do it. Staring at that image of himself, he couldn’t imagine the world seeing it. He isn’t ready for his friends to see it, for his siblings to see that. How could they ever understand? What would they think of him? How he’s lied to them.

It wouldn’t even be the worst of it. If a reporter got their hands on this… how far would they go? How much of John’s life would they hunt for? What John has in his past; a terrible thing hidden by a thin veil of cover his father had built. The only thing he’d ever done to really protect John, it could all be ripped away. His family’s best kept secret would unfold, and John would be seen as nothing more than the perfect miniature monster of Henry Laurens. No. He’d be seen as even worse than his father.

“So, what do you say John? Teammates?”

John nods, not quite believing what’s happening. It feels like a dream now. A day that started so fresh and sharp, now feels false. His footsteps don’t make a sound as he follows the trio out to their car. He doesn’t feel the bite of the snow on his face. He doesn’t see Hamilton and Lafayette searching the station for him. He doesn’t notice anything, except the vibration of the car as it starts and the hum of Lee’s consistent giddy chatter as they make their way towards the debate.

Chapter Text

“We should call the police! Right? That’s what you do when someone goes missing. Like just fucking disappears, fuck.”

Alex is pacing back and forth outside the front of the gas station. His prints have wiped away the snow and slowly with each step he begins to polish the ice beneath him until he almost slips on the word fuck.

“Mon tigre, twisting an ankle will not solve anything.”

Lafayette scolds Hamilton as he continues trying to reach John on his phone. But after the second try, the calls go straight to voicemail. Almost like the phone has been switched off. Lafayette decides not to mention this to Alex as he pockets his phone, trying to think of a reasonable explanation for the disappearance.

The snow around them is getting more vicious, the slow specks turning into heavier more aggressive drops. They cover any car left out in the carpark. Lafayette even watches as cars become pristine white carriages before their owners reach the automatic doors. If they didn’t leave soon, the two of them might get stuck here in a storm.

“But what do we do Laf? He’s not anywhere inside, he doesn’t have his car here, there’s open fields for miles and we can’t spot even a speck of a person. I didn’t think it could happen to an adult, but I think he’s been kidnapped.”

“Abducted?”

“Yeah, yeah that.”

“I’m sure if that had happened at this busy station, someone would have heard or seen something, non?”

“Well, I guess…but there’s no other explanation. Nothing I can piece together, and what’s that old quote…When you have eliminated all which is impossible then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”

“You know you’re quoting a fictional character.”

Hamilton waves his arms at Lafayette his face twisted into one of frustration as he lets out a strangled whine.

“Laf, I need you to work with me here…no, no, maybe you’re right. I’m going mad. I can’t solve this. We can’t solve this. I’m calling the police.”

“Alex, it’s only been thirty minutes.” Lafayette steps off the wall he’s been leaning on to place a hand on both of Alex’s shoulders. “Let’s stay calm, and make some calls?”

“Like the police.”

Lafayette gives his sometimes-insufferable friend a shake.

“Non. Eliza, Jefferson you know other people attending the event that might have heard something?”

“Oh.” Some of the tension melts from Alex as his half-brother levels him with the calmest expression he can muster. “Yeah, okay.”

“Bien. Now let’s make the calls inside, shall we? Before your nose falls off.”

Lafayette pinches Alex’s red nose to tease him and manages to get the first smile out of the man since they’d noticed John was missing. Alex follows him silently into the station but is calling Eliza before they even sit down.

John is fine, Lafayette assures himself. Everything will be fine. Alex is designed to be wound up, to assume a million possibilities and cling to the worst of them. Lafayette can stay the level-headed one. He isn’t worried. Everything will be okay…

------------------------------------

John sits on a closed toilet seat in the furthest stall from the entrance to the bathroom. He’d entered as soon as they arrived, ignoring Lee’s whining about wanting to practise. He’d grabbed the asshole by the scruff and told him he’d be on that stage when the time came, but until then if Lee fancied his face he wouldn’t speak to John,

That seemed to work on the little weasel.

So, John had made a beeline here. He’d been sure he was going to get sick the whole car ride over. It’d be nearly an hour now since he’d left Hamilton and Lafayette behind. They’d tried to call him and John- he just couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bring himself to answer. So, he’d switched his phone off in the car.

He’s a terrible person.

You already knew that.

He finds himself on the floor. Luckily the debate is being held in a fancy hotel and the floor is mopped and well maintained. That should be a weird thought for John to have right now. To think of dirty or clean floors when his knees are shaking in front of his eyes.

He tries to focus on the lines in the wood of the stall. The walls of the stall were dark, like his father’s mahogany desk in the office in their house…no, his father’s house. They remind him of when he was child and he’d hide under the desk, behind the chair, when he was playing hide and seek with his siblings.

He only dared to hide in the room when his father was away on a business trip. It was the only time the office wasn’t off limits for the game. Still, the younger ones were intimidated by the room, and John often found he could win by picking a new hiding spot in there.

It seems like he’s been practising his whole life to hide so well that no one will find him. That he won’t even be able to find himself.

He feels a pressure building somewhere as his thoughts become more frantic, like a flurry of voice in his mind. At first, he thinks it might be his stomach, that he’s nauseous. But as he takes his next breath, he can feel a tightness against his sternum. Something sitting atop his lungs, blocking the way for air to travel downwards. It feels like a ball, John can almost see it in his mind’s eye, can almost feel it rotating like a planet.

He can’t breathe.

Neither could she.

No. No. He can’t think about this here. This has nothing to do with anything that is happening. She has nothing to do with a stupid debate, with Charles Lee. He can’t let his mind slip to this everything he gets upset, every time he can’t control himself. It isn’t fair that his mind slips from what he can fix, and instead making him relive what he can’t.

John looks away from the wood, staring instead at the floor around the toilet. His mouth dries as he spots it. Why was that damn crack following him? It’s followed from the diner, now running along one of the tiles tucked behind the toilet.

He knew it wasn’t there, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring at it. It looks like bolts of lightning, or branches reaching outwards. The tile looks like it’ll crumble from the softest of touches, like it’s a breath away from shattering.

It’s not real. It’s not really there.

This will be all your fault too.

No.

This was Charles Lee.

This was his father.

This was because the concept of homophobia existed in this shitty world.

How will Hamilton feel when he realises you ditched him for Charles lee?

John didn’t have a choice. He’s never had a choice. He couldn’t let that image get out. It would shatter everything he’s built since he got to college, the life he’s been fighting to have away from home.

Saving yourself again.

John lets out a cry as his fist collides with the porcelain base of the toilet. It doesn’t crack, but his knuckles do. Blood oozes from where his skin skidded against the surface, the friction peeling away the skin. After the initial yelp, John just stares at his hand. He flexes it gently and despite the red-hot burn that sends tingles through his entire arm, nothing is broken. Just the sharp sting of an open wound.

“Fuck.” He whispers the word to himself. The last thing he needs is this.

The shock seems to pull away the tunnel vision that was starting to darken the edges of John’s vision. He pulls himself up slowly, his panic attack melting away as he starts to panic about the new problem he’s just created for himself.

He hastily makes his way out of stall, pushing the dark wood out of the way and cupping his hand, trying to minimise any blood hitting the floor. He makes it to the spotless white sink sunken into cream and grey marble and starts the tap.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, watching the blood circle into the drain, feeling the water bite into the raw skin. Eventually, the blood runs less, and John can grab the thicker paper from a dispenser, meant to be used for drying your hands. He wraps enough around his hand that it blocks any sight of blood. He puts pressure against the wound hoping it’ll stop and decides as a stranger slams the door open to the bathroom, that he needs to go elsewhere.

So, he speed walks out to the main foyer, approaching a worker and making up some story about slipping in the bathroom. He gets brought to a first aid room and they assure him he only needs a bandage and that they’ll have it done before the debate starts. Oh, lucky him.

There are a few specks of blood on his sleeve, but on his Navy blazer they could be anything, water even. He checks his watch and realises he only has ten minutes until the debate will start. He can do this. He can get through the next two hours. He could handle his father watching, he could handle cameras flashing. He’s done this before. The debate, somehow, will be the easy part.

It’s after. It’s imagining Alex’s face when he sees John again. It’s the anger he knows his roommate will feel when he finds out. It’s the anger he knows he deserves that terrifies him. But he must push it down, block it out. If he thinks about Alex too much, he won’t make it onto the stage.

John thanks the employee that helps him, leaves the guy a tip and walks out of the room. He brushes himself off, pulls back his shoulders and heads to the main stage. If there is anything John is better at than debating, it’s acting. He’ll be who he needs to be right now, and that person wasn’t himself.

That’s okay. John doesn’t need to be himself.

My sweet little boy. Never change.

Another promise he’s broken.

--------------------------------

“I know where John is.”

Alex looks up from his coffee, he’d been staring at it for the last fifteen minutes as he was trying to convince himself that Laurens was okay, that nothing bad could have happened. But Lafayette’s tone is all wrong. He doesn’t sound relieved, he sounds horrified.

Alex snaps his head up so quickly, he’s pretty certain he pulls something in his neck.

“What? What happened? He’s okay, right?”

Lafayette can’t reply. He’s staring at his phone like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. Slowly, he turns the phone around, showing Alex the picture from across the booth.

The photo is from Eliza and it’s an image of John on stage at the competition. She must be in the crowd from the angle, but the photo is clear. Laurens is sitting beside… Charles Lee. He’s competing. He’s been at the debate this whole time.

Neither of them says anything at first. Both sit in this tense silent disbelief.

Out of all the scenarios Alex had imagined in the last hour and a half, this had not been one of them. In fact, he hadn’t even thought of the debate since John had gone missing. It seemed so unimportant, so silly.

“I- how?” His voice is soft, like he’s afraid to speak. He doesn’t want theories; he doesn’t want this to be truth. If it was, then who has Alex been sleeping a few feet away from for the last three months?

He thinks of the night of the storm, the night where they finally yelled everything out, he thinks of John with Coraline and his siblings when he spoke to the on the phone. The memory of John’s hoodie that night they were playing hide and seek still sits on Alex’s skin. When John wrestled him just over a week ago, how close they’d been. He thinks of staring into John’s eyes, admiring every detail of his face, how he’d thought of kissing him more than once.

It’d all somehow been a lie. Some plot for a stupid debate that Alex didn’t even think John cared about. A debate that Alex had invited him to.

“I don’t know, Alex. Désolé”

“He- How could he do this? Charles fucking Lee? He told me- no he convinced me he hated the guy. Oh my God, I’m such an idiot.”

For once, Alex isn’t loud. He doesn’t want anyone to hear. He doesn’t want this to be real. He just wants this wave of emotion to not exist. He doesn’t want to have to comprehend what they mean, what this will do to him.

Lafayette pushes into the booth beside him, wrapping an arm around him.

“This is not your fault, Alex. You were lied to, and manipulated and it is disgusting.”

Alex leans into him, resting his head against Lafayette’s chest. He feels his eyes burning and is embarrassed to realise he’s crying.

“Do you want to go to the debate?”

Alex thinks about it. He imagines a world where he does. Where he competes in a later bracket, finds some random person for a third, maybe even destroys their stupid team. He imagines raising the trophy up at the end, smirking over at John and Lee. He imagines cornering John, screaming at him until his throat is raw and until he has completely picked the man apart. Until he makes him feel the same way as Alex feels now.

He could do it. He’s strong enough to do it.

“I can’t.”

Lafayette nods like he understands, like he can read his mind. Maybe by now, he can.

“Let us go then. Before we get stuck in this awful place.”

The drive back to the campus is silent. Neither of them can think about anything but what is happening, and it’s the last thing they’re willing to discuss.

Alex has no idea what he’ll do when they arrive back.

But he’s happy to put the gas station and John Laurens in the rearview mirror.

He once survived a hurricane, a deadly disease, and the loss of his whole family.

He’ll survive this.

He will.

He can.

He must.

He doesn’t want to.

-------------------------------------

They win.

It means nothing.

Lee is beaming, wrapping an arm around John as bright flashes blind them. From the back corner of the crowd, John can see his father standing and clapping. He’s smiling. A rare sight.

He’s led off the stage eventually, after all the congratulations and shaking hands with the organisers and adjudicators.

His father meets him behind the stage. It has only been a few months since John has seen his father in person, but he looks older than John remembers, more fragile.

His hair has been greying since John was a teenager, now there isn’t more than a few dark strands left. The wrinkles on his face now seem more pronounced, especially his frown lines. He looks younger when he smiles at John, the expression pulling his father’s skin in a way it wasn’t used to moving.

He’s wearing one of his nicer suits, it’s black with miniscule white lines running downwards along it. It makes him look taller than he is. He’s only an inch taller than John after all. His hair is combed back off his face, showing off the receding hairline that would no doubt lead to hair loss in a few years.

“Father.” It’s the only greeting John can muster.

“John, you were wonderful. Truly, yourself and Charles were leagues ahead of the rest.”

Lee is a few feet away chatting to his own father, but John knows he’s listening when his shoulders move like he’s puffing his chest out. It’s pathetic.

“Thank you.”

The silence is awkward. John tries to think of something say but finds he can’t.

“What happened to your hand?”

His father is now frowning at the bandage still wrapped around John’s hand. He’d debated with his hands tucked behind his back and made sure to keep them resting on his lap when he was sitting down. But now, there’s no hiding it.

“Oh, I slipped in the bathroom earlier. It’s fine, really. Just skinned my knuckles.”

His father raises an eyebrow as he decides if he believes his son or not.

“Well, we should sue the place then. Obviously, someone incompetent couldn’t clean the toilets correctly.”

There’s the Henry Laurens that John knows.

“No, that really isn’t necessary. It was my fault. I was reading notes on my phone for the debate. I didn’t notice the sign they’d left out.” John had forgotten how easy it is to lie to his father.

The hard part is telling him the truth.

“Hm, well you need to be more careful in future. Now, there’s some media waiting outside for us. We won’t have time to chat but be prepared for photos as we make our way to the helicopter. Lee’s father has booked a fine place for us to have lunch.”

A helicopter? He would assume his father is joking, but he knows better than that. This day is far from over, and the worst is probably yet to come.

He nods to show his father he’s heard him, and before John has to make an effort to form another sentence, Charles and his father join them.

As they walk outside, John does his best to hide behind the other three men. He’s forgotten what it’s like, to hear a roar of reporters battle it out against the whizz of helicopter blades. They’re begging for responses, leaning, and pushing over one another as though getting the microphone an inch closer will have Henry Laurens turning his head to notice them.

John would pity them if he wasn’t so afraid of them.

As he approaches the helicopter, he wonders how awful it is of him to hope that it might crash. That it might just spin out of control and the world would be free of the lot of them. No, that isn’t what John fantasies about. His fantasy revolves around a world where he never has to face Alex or Lafayette ever again. But it’s not fair to hope for such an easy way out. It’s not like the pilots have done anything, and John needs to answer for his actions.

He climbs into the aircraft after Lee, glaring a hole into the back of his head. He wasn’t the only one.

He must wait for the photo to be deleted, to be gone from existence.

Then John can get his revenge.

Chapter Text

“Now, now John. Careful.” Lee warns him as John shoves him up against one of the outer walls of the dormitory.

“Careful? Oh, I’m well past that Charles, I’m about two seconds away from beating the crap out of you.” John raises his fist as a warning, well partially a warning, he’s willing to swing.

“Just think about what we achieved today!”

“Delete the damn photo. On everything. We had a deal.”

“Yes…well, I assumed you’d see sense after we won…”

“Do I look like I’m seeing sense?”

It’s dark outside now. The winter sky had darkened over an hour ago, while the two of them were still driving back from their dinner. John isn’t sure what happened to Lee’s goons after the competition, but they’d made their own way back. Now it was just the two of them.

“Look, I won’t post it. You know I could never betray an old friend! It’s just some insurance, motivation for you! I can help you, John. You don’t need to be alone with this. You’re better than that image.”

“You’re deluded, Lee.” John lets go of him as he realises this, his head gently shaking. “You’re living in your own little world in your head. You’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”

The comment seems to hit a sore spot.

“I’m living in my own little world? You’re the son of Henry Laurens that’s running around living the life of a fag. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Had someone else gotten this photo that wasn’t me? You’d ruin your father’s career, your family’s reputation for your own sick desires. You’re the deluded one John. You’re the one that’s sick.”

The crunch of Charles’ nose under his fist is not as satisfying as John had been hoping. Although, the tears streaking down his face and the curses spilling from his mouth were helping.

“I’ll have you expelled for this.” Lee promises, sitting on his knees as he tries to stop the blood flowing from his nose. His eyes are shiny with tears, but his glare is not any less fierce than John is expecting. “I’ll ruin you, John Laurens. You’ll regret this.”

He leans on the wall as he stumbles to his feet. The coward puts more space between them. It’s clear that he has no intention to fight back, to enter a brawl with John. The wisest decision the weasel had made today, maybe ever.

“You don’t scare me, Charles.” John had been blind sighted by the image earlier. He was in shock. He hadn’t prepared for that image to exist, for someone like Lee to have it. But he’d had a whole day to think. An entire dinner to compose himself, to study his father and Lee and decide for himself what he’s ready for. “I pity you.”

John starts to walk away, towards the door of his building. His right hand is throbbing again. He glances down and can see the wound from earlier is soaking blood through his bandage. Well, he probably should have punched with his other hand, whoops.

“Don’t walk away from me! Are you hearing me Laurens? I’ll post it, I’ll bring the curtain down on the lie you’ve been living. The lie you’ve used to deceive everyone!”

“Well, thanks for the heads up, Charles. Best of luck with it.”

“You- You can’t be serious. You’re bluffing.”

John turns on his heel to face Charles again. He’s standing under one of the outdoor lights perched on the red-brick wall. From Lee’s perspective his features are sharper, the shadows digging into John’s face until they twist his expression into something unrecognisable.

“Our fathers have a good partnership Charles, I’m sure your father will have a lot to say when my photo emerges. He’ll be quite tied up with the mess, I imagine. There might even be rumours, scandals passed onto the press. I’ll be sure to mention your name. How you…helped me with my acceptance.”

“What are you implying.” Charles voice is strained, he hadn’t considered his own reputation. He hadn’t thought of what it could mean for his father’s either.

“Post the photo and I guess we’ll see.”

John can tell he won’t. Charles is a coward through and through, and John’s just handed him a catastrophic unknown. A single choice that could ruin both their lives.

John leaves him shivering and bleeding outside. He enters the warm and brightly lit foyer. He was brave outside, but staring up at the large staircase that will lead him to his room, he can’t help but shiver.

---------------------------

Alex spent the day packing his stuff. There’s no way he’s spending another moment with John. He hated that he had to leave. That he’d be bunking with Lafayette until their finals, until Christmas break. After that, they had to give him another room. He’d swallow his pride and ask Washington for help if he had to.

He wanted to scream as he put his clothes into bags and his other belongings back into the boxes he’d brought them in. He stares at the labels he’d scribbled along the side and can’t help but think back to the day he’d written them. He’d been so excited to go to college, ready to get a degree and start his life properly. A life where he’s in control of his faith. Where money and stability aren’t a question, and he doesn’t have to spend a moment worrying about where he’d sleep that night.

Washington had given him an opportunity, but only Alex can grow it into the life he wants. The life he wants keeps getting more complicated though. If he could speak to the Alex that wrote these labels, on the day he did, the few months younger version of himself would laugh. He wouldn’t believe Alex that a single person could be ruining what should be the happiest year of his life.

It’s dark outside when Alex finishes. He sits on the edge of his bed, his side of the room bare. He has to text Lafayette and then he’d be over to help him with his stuff. He tries to send the text; he stares at his lock screen for a full minute before he realises, he can’t do it.

He’d convinced himself all day long that John had never been anyone to him. That it’d all been a lie, a setup. What else could explain today? But staring at his face in his photos on the wall, at the snow globes he adored sprawled across their side table and windowsill. It was too much.

How do you mourn someone that may never have existed? Was any of it really John, or was it all an act? Who is Alex supposed to miss?

How do you fall for someone who mightn’t even be real?

A surge of anger ignites within Alex, reigniting a flame that had been smothered by confusion and pain throughout the day. The eruption catches him off guard, propelling him to his feet before he even realizes his intention. Driven by an overwhelming need to release his pent-up frustration, he paces back and forth across the room, a restless energy compelling him to move. With each step, he desperately seeks to unravel the puzzle, searching for the point of misstep and attempting to uncover where he went wrong. Where the lies started and ended with John.

He can’t. He can’t do it.

He lets out a yell as he turns and kicks his foot into their shared bedside table. He curses as he feels the pulse of pain in his toes from the impact and sits back down on his bed, defeated. It’s only when he’s calmed down a bit that he realises what he’s done.  

John’s prize possession, his turtle snow globe had rocked against the edge of the windowsill in Alex’s rage. It has clearly cracked the back of the globe as a pool of water is growing across the wood, leaking over the edges and down the side of the table.

Fuck.

Well, now he feels bad.

No.

No, he can’t.

The asshole deserves it.

Alex nibbles on his bottom lip as he tries to decide what to do. He can feel a cold sweat on his back, the kind he gets when he feels like he’s about to be yelled at for something he absolutely did.

What he did was an accident. What John did today was on purpose. Alex uses that logic to draw himself away from any guilt he feels as he watches the turtle’s bubble drain, the clay creature staring at Alex with soulless eyes.  

He grabs a box without another thought. He’ll just march over to Lafayette’s and Mulligan’s room with the first one and by then he won’t be able to back out.

He won’t let himself spend another moment worrying about John Laurens or some dumb snow globe. Absolutely not. His steps are quick and suddenly he’s staring at the doorhandle.

No turning back now, Alex.

He leaves.

---------------------------------------

John pauses at his door.

His heart is drumming in his chest as he stretches his hand out to open it. Alex must be in there. He’s probably waiting to rip into John with a list as long as himself…if not longer.

John deserves it. He’s going to have to prove himself to Alex all over again. Rebuilding won't be easy or effortless, and their relationship might be forever changed. But John has felt something with Alex that he’s never felt for anyone before.

Even the pit in his stomach is new. He’s wary of how hard their next conversation is going to be. But he’s still excited. Excited to see Alex again, to speak to him. He’d measured the whole day by how many hours it would be until John could explain himself, could be back in his room with Alex again.

He’s going to make this right.

He’s not going to be a coward anymore.

The room’s dark when he enters. Usually, Hamilton has at least two of the lamps in their room switched on. The large white light that hung in the centre of the room was always off limits, its harsh lighting is brutal no matter what time of day it is.

But blinded by the darkness, John switches it on.

Alex’s side of the room is completely barren. His belongings, his posters, even his trash is cleaned away. There’s no trace of him.

“No.” He whispers the word as the door clicks shut behind him.

He stumbles forward, his hand grasping at the doorhandles to Alex’s closet as he opens it. It’s empty. He turns and rushes over to the bathroom, switching the light on in there too. Not even a trace of a messy hair in the sink.

Hamilton must have left before John had gotten here. Of course, he would. He thinks John betrayed him.

No. It doesn’t end like this. It can’t.

John’s stalking down the hall before he has a plan, before he’s even thought of what he’s going to say. In seconds he’s at Lafayette and Mulligan’s room. He bangs on the door before he can let himself chicken out. If Alex is going to be anywhere, it’ll be here.

He can’t hear anything at first. Maybe they’re out?

“Who is it?” Mulligans gruff voice asks through the door.

Well shit.

“John.”

“Fuck off, Laurens.”

Okay, he deserved that.

“Is Alex in there?”

Silence.

John waits. He can wait here as long as it takes.

He hears muttering behind the door and then footsteps before the door opens a crack.

“As you can imagine, he doesn’t fancy a chat. So, piss off.” Mulligan glares down at him.

“Look, just five minutes, okay? Then if he feels the same, I’ll leave him alone.”

Hercules turns his head to take in Alex’s expression, whatever face he’s making further inside the room.

“Nope. Not tonight, Laurens.”

The door slams in his face so hard, John is pretty sure he can feel his teeth rattling from the vibrations.

Great.

He’s ruined everything again.

He marches back to his room, seething. Not at Alex. He should have expected that would be the reaction. No, John is mad at himself, at Lee, and especially at his father.

He’s done. He’s finished with everyone else getting a say in how he gets to live his life. He’s tired of men like Alex only seeing the performance of John Laurens, never getting to know Jack.

Maybe Jack died the same night his mother did.

He’s back in his room, pacing the floor. He feels this unbridled energy building inside him. The kind of momentum you get right as you’re about to send that risky text or post that awkward selfie. It’s excitement in the face of avoidable humiliation because the risk of it all is worth the chance that everything does go right.

He stops abruptly as he notices the crack again. This time it’s on his snow globe. It’s on the snow globe.

His hands are shaking as he picks it up. Like tree branches…it reaches across the polished glass, covering up most of the happy green turtle that floats inside.

It can’t be in his head. Water pools across his palm, dripping off his hand and spitting onto the puddle already formed on his bedside table. It couldn’t have fallen. It was standing in its correct position. Which means Alex must have done it.

John takes a deep breath. It’s the last sign. The last straw on his already broken back.

He begins to pack. Just one set of spare clothes. He’d only need one change.

He grabs his charger and anything else he can’t go a day without and heads out of his dorm. He does his best to ignore Alex’s side of the room. Hopefully, it won’t be empty for long. Or at the very least, Alex will be able to return to it, and John will be the one gone.

-------------------------

Hours later, John is gripping his steering wheel tightly as he navigates the dimly lit roads of South Carolina. Anger and anxiety simmer within him, intensifying with each passing mile.

Above, the stars twinkle in the vast sky, casting their gentle glow upon the world below. But amidst their beauty, large clouds begin to gather, their presence silently mirroring the tumultuous emotions swirling inside John’s mind. He tries to keep his mind away from the sky though. If he watches the clouds itch closer to one another…if he even thinks about the possibility of it raining on these roads, he might never make it.

The engine hums softly, the only constant in the silent night. The rhythmic sound provides a faint solace, a familiar companion amidst the chaos. His knuckles turn white as he passes an all too familiar ditch, his jaw is set in determination, a mix of frustration and fear etched upon his face as he turns the corner after it, now minutes from home.

He opens the electric gate with his phone and soon he’s pulling up the driveway. It’s well past midnight, his siblings will be fast asleep, but John can see from the driveway that his father’s study’s lights are on.

As John steps out of the car, he feels the trickle of mist begin falling from the sky above. Well, she made sure it waited until he got here.

He unlocks the front door and takes the stairs two at a time. He won’t pause to take the old memories in. He can’t let himself get sentimental.

The staircase is loud. His feet step on all the creaks he used to avoid as a teenager. His hand drags over the wooden handle, squeaking in places from where his damp palm catches it. Each noise reminds John that this is real. That it’s not a dream.

The hallway upstairs is dark. It doesn’t matter. John could walk through this whole house blind folded. The rain knocks on the glass like a chant, loudly screaming at John. He wishes he knew if it’s meant to be encouragement… or a warning.

He focuses on his father’s door. He can make it out by the halo of light that creeps through the outer cracks, the keyhole shining a ray of light straight onto the armoured knight that stood opposite it.

He catches his breathe as he stands before it.

John had hours of driving to prepare for this. But when he think’s back to his journey, from the moment he left his dorm room, all he remembers is white noise.

No. He could never have prepared himself for what’s about to happen next.

He opens the door without knocking. The yellow glow from his father’s desk lamp lights up the interior of the room.

Stepping into the private office is like entering a space that exudes both power and a sense of personal history. The room embodies the essence of his father’s political journey. Adorned with rich mahogany furniture, the office emanates a traditional and dignified aura. The walls are lined with framed photographs capturing important moments in his career, showcasing him alongside influential figures from the political landscape. His desk sits at the centre of the room, meticulously organized with neatly stacked papers, reports, and legislative documents. Bookshelves line the walls, filled to the brim with volumes on constitutional law, conservative philosophy, and political biographies, reflecting his deep intellectual curiosity and commitment to his beliefs.

A large American flag hangs proudly on one wall, symbolizing his unwavering patriotism and dedication to his country. Alongside it, historical documents, such as the Constitution and the Declaration of Independence, serve as constant reminders of the principles that guide his political ideology. The air is filled with the faint scent of aged books and fresh ink.

His father sits at his desk. His form hunched away from the back of his elegant leather seat. His head snaps up as the door bangs open. He looks startled, terrified even, for just a moment. Once he recognises his son though, his mask slides comfortably back across his features.

“John. Don’t tell me you drove all the way home. Has something happened?”

John approaches his father as he responds.

“Yes. Something has happened, has been happening for a long time now. I’m here to end it.”

“Son, no need to sound so dramatic. You need your father’s help then? A reporter after you again? Or did we have another…slip up.”

John can feel his face reddening from how his father phrases his presumptions. As though his theory is fact and he’s been waiting in this office at this hour of the night purposely for John.

“If by slip up, you mean someone else figuring out I’m gay. Then yes, that did happen.”

“I see, and you need me to pay them off I presume?”

John lets out a mirthless laugh.

“I don’t think you quite have the funds to pay off the Lee family.”

Even in the dim light, John can see his father’s face pale.

“You slipped up in front of Charles Lee.” His father falls into an unsettling stillness, the initial whisper of a smouldering wrath simmering deep within him.

“Oh, I was miles from the weasel. A friend of his snapped a photo of the encounter though. Which Lee has already promised to post-” John makes a show of checking his watch “Over five hours ago now. But I’m sure we would have heard about it now if he did.”

“I’ll call his father immediately. I’ll clean up your mess again.” His father’s words sound like the hiss of a snake. The syllables just passing through his gritted teeth.

“I don’t need you to clean anything up.”

Now he has his father’s full attention. He drops his phone onto his desk, the screen showing his contacts list.

“Oh?” His father stands, resting his hands on either side of his laptop. A creepy glow spreads from below his face, creating a wicked shadow that warps his features. He looks like an actor posing for a thriller horror film.

“I don’t want to clean this up.”

“What are you saying, son.”

He tacks the word son on like it means something. As though the pair of them have a connection, a bond. Instead, John feels like his father is yelling at him from an island, that the two are separated by miles of treacherous water. Both daring the other to wade through the waves to arrive at an understanding, at any sort of compromise.

“I’m saying, I’ve tried it your way. I’ve hidden who I am long enough and I’m tired of it.”

“What are you hiding? Who are you hiding from?” His father stands tall now, his hands joining at his lower back as he uses them to anchor his shoulders backwards, to stand as tall as he can.

“Are you not doing well in school? Do you not have friends? Have I not opened a well of opportunities for you? You do not hide; you stand apart from the rest John. A Laurens will always be at the centre of things. Have I not taught you that?”

“I’m gay. I’ve always been gay. I like men. I will not lie about that anymore.”

His father lets out a long sigh before strolling towards one of the awards on his wall. His father follows the path of achievements and photos with his eyes, almost like he’s gathering strength from them.

“John. I understand college can bring about a sense of… adventure, as did your teenage years. But it’s time you see sense. The world is not as simple and as…magical, as college may make it out to be. The lifestyle you’ve idolised, it’s not an easy one. I’ve simply been protecting you from that. If you wish to talk about it, then lets. But I urge you to heed what I say, I say all of it from a place of love.”

Love?

John can’t recall the last time his father ever told him that he loved him. John can’t even remember the last time his father said the world love.

It leaves John speechless. He allows his father to gesture towards one of two armchairs that rest against one of the walls in the office, a space reserved for drinks between his father and his special guests.

John eases into the soft velvet cushions, but despite the comfort, his body remains rigid with tension. An instinctual yearning to escape gnaws at his thoughts, pleading for him to leave before the conversation unravels before irreparable words are spoken to one another.

“It’s not a lifestyle, it’s who I am.” John breaks the silence, finding something to argue back with.

“I know, I know.” His father dismissively waves a hand at him, as if acknowledging John's words while having profound disbelief in every single one. “But John, the life of a homosexual person is tough. You’ll struggle with every job you apply yourself for, you’ll struggle to find neighbourhoods that will accept you, you’ll spend your whole life looking over your shoulder. I don’t want my son to become the next news headline for a local homicide.”

“And whose fault is that?” John gives his father a pointed look.

“Oh, John. I understand my standings on the legality around the homosexual life may seem extreme. I understand if I’ve offended you in my beliefs and my speeches. But John, you understand better than most that I must side with my party, with my friends. So that the important stuff like the economy, like education, like healthcare, can be dealt with. Our country is on the verge of collapse in some key areas. If I need to stand firm on gay issues to win more support for the important bills I want to pass, then I won’t apologise for it. Surely you can see it’s for the greater good.”

“Usually when a politician starts saying things like, ‘it’s for the greater good’, it’s usually for quite the opposite.”

“Oh, come now, you’re being obstinate. You know I’m right.”

“I can’t change who I am. I can’t love a woman no more than you could love a man.”

His father chuckles at the statement.

“Loving a woman is sensible. It led me to have my wonderful children. A man can not give you a home. He can’t give you the support you need.”

“Is that all mom was for you then? A baby making machine.”

A surge of delight washes over John as he observes his father's hands clenching the armrests of the chair. In an instant, his father's serene expression morphs into a menacing visage.

“Don’t you dare bring your mother into this.”

John winces.

“Why? Do you think she’d approve of this? Of what you’re saying.”

Henry Laurens reclines in his armchair, allowing himself a moment of repose. He deliberately pauses, gathering his thoughts, before responding to his son. The once haughty expression on his face dissolves into a frown, erasing any trace of the condescending smirk he had maintained throughout their exchange.

“Do you?” Henry spits out.

John blinks. It’s about all his brain can do. Of course, she wouldn’t agree. She would never have turned on him like his father. She would have supported him. She would have done anything for him because that’s just who she was.

She was love.

“Mom loved everyone. She never would have discriminated against someone because of who they love, or where they’re from or how much money they have. She accepted everyone.”

“You’re not everyone. You are my son.”

“What does that matter?” John stands to his feet. His voice is starting to wobble, his shoulders are shaking. He knows he’s moments away from crying or screaming, the emotions lodge themselves in his throat as he does best to tame them. Please let him get through this. He can’t afford to fall apart now.

“I want what’s best for you.”

His father follows his lead, staring down into John’s eyes as he stands. His father still has a few inches on John. Despite how certain John had been that one day he’d get to look down at his father.

“No. You want what’s best for you, for your reputation and your career. My life is just an inconvenience to you.”

A sudden stillness overtakes John's father as he holds in his last intake of breath. His gaze remains fixed on John, unblinking and filled with a mixture of confusion and disbelief. Words elude him, leaving him at a loss for a response, as if grappling with the right words to express his thoughts. He doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“An inconvenience? John, your life has always been a blessing to me, a gift from God.” His father’s words are soft. Nothing like the rough dialogue John had listened to for the last decade.

“Stop it. Stop lying to me.” John can feel the burning prickle of tears in the corner of his eyes.

“Son, I’m not-”

“You hate me.” John screams the word, his throat burning from the ferocity in which he shrieks.

“Hate you?”

John averts his gaze from his father, unable to fathom the pretence, the sheer act put on display. He can no longer bear to devote another glance, another moment of his attention to his father. The image of his father preaching fervently about damnation and hellfire on television plays in his mind. His father conceals every authentic part of John from his colleagues, the press, and anyone else who crosses their path. This includes hiding it from himself. The countless instances of self-deception his father has engaged in, feigning that John is just like him and destined to follow in his footsteps.

“John, I love you.”

Now he knows his father is lying.

John knows what it’s like to be loved by his father. The fond memories from his childhood are coloured a warm gold in his mind’s eye. John can still hear his father’s laughter, feel his arms wrapping around John, can still smell his father’s cologne burning his nostrils as he rested his head on his father’s shoulder.

That was love. That was what having a father felt like.

“Stop lying.” John is almost laughing now. Dry chuckles echo through the now quiet study. John finds himself staring at a portrait in the corner of the room. It was an oil painting of an old family portrait they’d had done years ago, back when they’d gotten one done yearly.

He’s only ten in the painting. He stands beside his mother, one of his baby sisters rests on her lap as she sits in the centre of the piece, his father behind the chair, resting his two hands on the back of it. The rest of his siblings standing the far side of their mother.

John remembers complaining for most of the process. He’d been bored out of his mind and spent most of the time begging his parents to be painted first so he could leave.

It was the last time anyone would ever paint a live portrait of his mother.

“I know you hate me.”

“John, just because I think you’re confused doesn’t mean-”

“You never forgave me, did you?”

John disregards his father as he stalks towards the painting. A wave of nausea washes over him as he witnesses the rain's reflection cascading down the artwork, mirroring the relentless downpour pelting against the nearby bay windows.

He bites hard at his lower lip as the feelings inside him tear him apart. The guilt he has learned to tuck away deep into his subconscious leaks out beneath her never changing gaze.

“Forgive you for what?”

Johns tired. He’s tired and he can hear the lack of emotion in his father’s words. He knows the fight has left both of them. He knows his father now understands where the conversation is going. Why John came in the middle of the night. Why John truly believes his father’s blatant homophobia is rooted in something much denser and more complex than fear or religion.

His father never had the guts to say it. To look John in the eyes and just be a man about it all. Instead, he’d skirted around his son for ten years now. Left John flailing after him, hopeful for far too long that his father would come back to him, could understand him as he once had.

“I wish you’d just been honest with me. I figured it out… eventually. The older I got, the more it all made sense. The change in your political stances, the shift in your priorities. You never stopped after that night, always moving and adapting and working. Always working.”

John stops, assuming his father will interrupt him.

He doesn’t.

For once, Henry Laurens is truly speechless.

“I understand why you changed. Why you never looked at me the same after that night. Why you’ll never be able to change how you see the world… not for me, anyways.”

John takes a deep breath, holding it in until his lungs ache and he has to exhale…he has to say what he came here to say. Or else, he’d never be free of any of this.

“You hate me…because I killed her.”

John turns to face his father, tears gliding down his cheek as he smiles. Smiling from the relief of finally having admitted his crimes out loud.

“I killed your wife.” Another brief pause as John tries to convince himself to stop staring at his father’s feet and instead pushes himself to look him in the eye as he finishes-

“I killed my own mother.”

Chapter Text

As twilight descended upon the grand manor, a hush settles in the air, signalling the winding down of the elite gathering. The once-packed rooms gradually emptied as guests, with careful poise and polite gestures, began to fade into the shadows, bidding their final adieus. Conversations softened to hushed whispers, blending with the soft melodies that played from the grand piano in the main hall.

The youthful roars that once echoed through the halls slowly subsided, as the sound of running footsteps gave way to gentle murmurs. Parents, ever watchful, guided their weary children towards the exit, their tender hands ensuring a safe departure from the chaotic, and tiring, evening.

The adults, having indulged in the festivities, now displayed the telltale signs of contentment and satisfaction. Some leaned against the ornate walls, their expressions reflecting a mingling of pleasure and weariness. Others formed small circles, engaged in last-minute conversations and gossip trains.

Throughout the manor, flickering candlelight lit the remaining guests in a warm glow, casting intricate patterns of dancing shadows upon the elegant tapestries adorning the walls. The clinking of crystal glasses and the faint rustling of silk garments created a soft symphony of fading echoes, intermingling with the gentle hum of conversations slowly dissipating into the night. And amidst the fading ambiance, there remained an unspoken understanding that the night had drawn to a close, and it was time to bid farewell.

John tries to be good for his parents, but he’s exhausted. All he’s done for the last hour of his party is smile, shake hands, and thank unknown adults for attending his eleventh birthday party. Most of the kids he’d played with he didn’t even know. Not that it bothers him. Not that he’s not used to it.

No, there is only one sole thing bothering Jack, his birthday present. More specifically, the present promised to him by his parents. As the last tuxedo man and sparkly woman depart through the front door, Jack loses all sense of poise.

“Mom, is that everyone?” He can’t help the whine that weaves through his words, nor can he stop his hand from tugging impatiently at her dress.

She could have scolded him, reprimanded him for not having more patience, for not being satisfied with the entire day of activities that had just taken place for him. But she doesn’t, she can’t, her eldest son is always her greatest weakness.

“Yes, Jack. That’s everyone.” She bends down to pinch at his nose before tucking some loose curls behind his ears. He hadn’t noticed he’d been blowing them out of his eyes for the last ten minutes. “You did a great job today.”

“I did?” He asks, tone filled with uncertainty. The expression on his face captures the distinct emotion that only a child can portray - a question grounded in trust but posed as if doubting that the listener will take his words to heart.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“What did I do?” He grabs his mother’s hand and lets her lead him to his father’s study. His father had disappeared up there moments before, and now that he was being tugged up the staircase, John wonders if it was to prepare his son’s birthday present.

“Well, you were nice to the other kids. You took time to speak to the adults that cornered you. You even included your little siblings in your games.”

“But…aren’t they all things you’re meant to do?” Jack isn’t sure why his mom sounds like she’s about to cry. He tries to look at her eye’s as they reach the landing, but she hides the tears forming in them by turning to look at the foyer.

“Quite right.” She nods, pulling together a smile as she composes herself to look at her son.

As a mother, Eleanor wasn’t always sure she was doing a good job. Was she raising her kids too well-mannered? Alienating them from their peers and from a world they may grow to never understand. A world they would think ended on the outskirts of the parties and elite gatherings they were often invited to. On the other hand, she needed them to be brave, to handle the world that their father navigated through, that their family would have to survive in.

They had to be more than kids sometimes, and the thought frightened her. Left her lying awake beside Henry most nights, replaying her day over, and over again, always convinced she could have handled it better. That she can always portray a better example to her kids.

Despite her self-doubt, everyday her children surprised her. They showed her a side of them that she didn’t remember creating or nurturing. John, perhaps because he’s her oldest child, is often the culprit of such thoughts and surprises.

In a way, Eleanor realized that she was nurturing her son to embody the very traits she wistfully wished to possess. His artistic creativity, his kindness towards his siblings, his obedience to his father, and his unwavering admiration for her - all made John a source of wonder and pride.

John is her miracle, representing a glimpse into the future. Eleanor firmly believes that he will go on to accomplish more than she can ever dream of achieving herself. And as he excelled, garnering recognition from the world, she will proudly hold the smug assurance that she made him. That she stood by his side from day one, guiding him to become the man she knew he could be.

Sure, mothers are biased. But deep down, Eleanor truly believes that there is no one quite like her son.

“Do I get my present now?” John’s voice is soft, almost wary. His mother opens the study door and guides him inside, chuckling at the question.

“Well, Henry? What do you think?”

John’s father smiles as he flips his phone closed. He’s settled onto a couch that sits by the side of a coffee table. A small comfortable corner of the office that Eleanor had insisted on. She had wanted somewhere she could lounge and chat with her husband, or a place to sit their children when they wanted to spend time around their father.

On the table Jack spots a small cube neatly wrapped in a sea-life themed wrapping paper. It was a bit larger than he’d been expecting, not the slim parcel he’s been promised. But maybe, maybe his parents have chosen to spoil him further with an extra gift.

His thoughts are briefly side-tracked as his father stands, a grin stretching across his face as he puts his arms out. Jack runs to his dad, his arms linking around the man’s neck as his father lifts him with ease, spinning him around until giggles fill the room.

“Dad, I’m eleven now. You can barely even lift me.” Jack protests as his father finally lets him out of the embrace. His hair is ruffled, and his shoulder patted before Henry moves away, grabbing for his wife’s hand.

“Nonsense. You’ll never be too old to be picked up by your old man.” Henry winks at him as he puts an arm around his wife, the two sharing a knowing smile as their son shifts his weight from one foot to the next. His eyes are now transfixed on his present.

“Go on then, Jack. Think you’ve waited long enough.”

John doesn’t wait for her to change his mind. Instead, he sits himself down in the middle of the couch, his parents sliding in either side of him, and begins tearing through the paper. Beneath he finds a plain cardboard box.

“Careful now, Jack. Gentle with it.”

The request seems odd for what John is expecting, but he listens to his mother as he peels back the tape clasping the box’s flaps shut. He keeps the box steady and deftly pulls it open.

Inside the box is packed with curving white packing peanuts. John begins to scoop them out, eventually tilting the box just enough that they spill out, revealing a glass dome just under their first layer.

His father grabs the bottom of the box as John grasps at the glass. His small fingers do their best to grasp at it, ultimately needing his second hand. He tugs the gift out of the box and finally understands what it is.

It’s a snow globe.

John stares at it, disappointed. Too young to see the snow globe for what it was, beautiful, timeless.

Within the glass sphere of this snow globe, a serene and enchanting underwater world comes to life. Nestled on a bed of shimmering blue, the turtle-themed snow globe houses a charming ceramic turtle at its centre, crafted with intricate details and precise colouring.

With a gentle shake, a flurry of sparkling green glitter swirls and dances like emerald stardust, creating an ethereal illusion of an underwater snowfall. It adds an enchanting touch to this turtle-themed decoration.

The snow globe is more than just an ornament; it's a gateway to a world where imagination and reality intertwine, where the mysteries of the deep sea are encapsulated in a single, captivating sphere.

At least, that’s how John will feel about it one day. When he realises it’s not something you will ever find in a gift shop. That’s it is made from love and adoration.

One day it will be the most important thing in the world to him.

“Do you like it, Jack?” His mother is staring at him, her lips pulled into a smile. She’s giddy, bouncing her leg in a way she only does when she’s excited.

John knows he’s being a brat. He knows his parents will be disappointed. But he can’t help it.

Tears form in his eyes as he flicks his gaze between his parents and their gift.

“Is this my only present?”

His parents share a quick, startled look, before his father swoops in to reply. It gives Eleanor a moment to realise that she needs to swallow her disappointment with the reception of her gift and try salvage the moment.

“Well Jack, you already got the console you wanted. Remember we got it a few days ago for you. This is a special present that your mom worked very hard to get for you. It’s made by a friend of ours Jack, you’re the only one lucky enough to have one like it.”

Usually, that would be enough to calm John. He did like the snow globe, and even at eleven he understood how much his mom cared for him by her choice of theme. She knew how turtle crazy he’s been since his tenth birthday when she brought him to an aquarium, and he insisted on watching the turtles there for over an hour.

Their tank had tunnels running through it. Walkways for tourists and guests to get a close up look at the creatures, at how they moved. Jack had sat in the blue glow of those tunnels until his eyes stung. Only the promise of a turtle plushie from the gift shop had gotten Jack to leave.

“What were you expecting, Jack?”

He can tell his father is tense, that if John kept being ungrateful, he may scold him, but his mother is different. She asks him the question like it pains her, like she wishes she could go back and fulfil it for him.

It makes John feel even worse.

“I’m sorry. I just thought- I thought it was going to be the game I wanted…the one that they forgot to ship with the console…” John had been thinking about the game all day, counting down the hours until seven o’clock would roll around and he could scurry upstairs to play it.

He had been certain his parents would even give him a later bedtime for it, considering he is older now. He thought he’d finally get to turn off the social side of his brain and get lost in the mindlessness of a video game.

“I understand, sweetie. I’m sorry, we forgot about the game with all the planning we were doing for your party. It’s okay to be upset, I should have remembered how much you wanted it for today.”

His mother pulls him close then, drawing him into her side as she runs a hand along his back. Henry looks startled by her words, but once their eyes lock, he doesn’t dare question or interrupt her. He never does because she is the greatest woman he’s ever met, and he’s never stood a chance of being the one who knows what’s right or wrong. How best they should handle their emotions as parents before they bleed into lessons and memories that will affect their kids.

Even now Henry knows his wife is devasted by John’s reaction, his sadness. She had managed to talk about the snow globe every day since she bought it, babbling away in his ear about how much John was going to love it, about how excited she was to hand it to him.

Despite that, she sits two feet away from him, comforting their son. She doesn’t show him how much his response hurts. She doesn’t get angry at him for ruining a moment she’d been looking forward to for weeks. She adapts, Henry realises. She’s accepted that their children will never fall into her plotlines, won’t read her scripts the way she writes them in her mind, and she’s prepared for the improv they challenge her with.

She isn’t focused on this memory between them being focused on the snow globe she’d killed herself getting. No, this is Jack’s moment. She focuses on it making it a happy memory for him, and him alone.

Henry struggles to fathom how he could ever do the same.

“I’m sorry.” Jack sniffles, accepting his mother’s handkerchief and blowing his nose with it.

“It’s okay, Jack. It’s always okay to cry.” She seals the promise with a kiss to his temple. Instantly, John feels better, stronger. The tears dry up faster than he thought they would and he manages to reign in his breathing before any sobs could emerge.

“What can we do now to make things better?” Eleanor gently leaves the snow globe back on the table, letting John sit up straight and think.

“Could we…could we go get it now?”

Henry frowns at his watch, aware that it was almost half seven in the evening. His wife catches his frown and realises she might have to disappoint her son again.

“I don’t know Jack… it’s quite late. The shop might be closed.”

“Oh.” He says the word softly, like he’s afraid to say anything else.

Eleanor’s heart breaks as she watches John try to come up with something else to say, something that won’t upset herself or Henry. Even though it’s clear he’s struggling to not lash out, to demand the game immediately. It's a poignant moment of witnessing the inner turmoil of growing up, as he navigates the shift from blissful ignorance as a child to becoming a more self-aware teenager. Lessons and advice have been given, but the full comprehension of situations eludes him, just out of reach like an elusive wiseness waiting to be grasped.

She turns to her husband again, waiting until he was staring into her eyes before she narrows them, giving him a very familiar pointed look, don’t argue with me about this.

“But we can always try.” She promises John and laughs as his face lights up at the compromise.

“Eleanor…”

She cuts her husband off.

“We’re only twenty minutes from the game shop, and it’s a Friday, it could be opened late.”

Her husband doesn’t seem to have any optimism about that being the case, but he swallows his logical retorts and lets her continue.

“But you know your mom and dad can’t control the shop, Jack. So, if we get there, and they’re closed, we’ll drive home and go to sleep straight away. That way, we can go back first thing tomorrow when they open. Deal?”

She puts her hand out, her pinkie sticking apart from the fist she forms. Jack follows her lead, hooking his own pinkie around hers as they seal their deal to one another.

Henry follows them downstairs as his son whoops and hollers, jumping the last three steps as he rushes for the car. Eleanor is smiling and laughing at the display. At that sight, Henry finds he can’t bring himself to be annoyed at the racket his son is making.

“Be careful.” The warning sounds ridiculous, even to Henry’s ears. Nothing will happen. It’s a short trip into town, along a road they take every day. Even still, he feels it’s his duty to point out.

“It’s wet out there, been raining for most of today, go slow.” He doesn’t mean to sound as harsh or as commanding as he does, but as always, Eleanor understands him. She knows he just a worrier.

“I will. Don’t worry, we’ll be back in a flash.” She laughs and kisses him on the cheek as she slides past where he’s holding the door open for her.

Outside, the rain pours relentlessly, battering the mini-roundabout entrance. The paved bricks shimmer with a glossy sheen, while the road becomes a fluid blur of water droplets dancing in every direction. His wife runs to the car, John slipping into the passenger seat. He can see them inside, flicking their hands at each other and laughing gleefully at their mini water fight.

It's a new car, Henry feels a twinge of annoyance at the prospect of rain-soaked leather seats, However, the feeling passes, dissipates away by the two of them waving theatrically at him as they follow the curve of the fountain, and make their way down their home’s long driveway.

He stands at the door watching until the car is fully out of sight. He’s not sure why, but he waits another minute, blankly staring at where he last saw the car before it disappeared behind a bend.

He closes the door.

--------------------------

The shop is open when they arrive. The speakers switch off as they enter, making it clear the shop will be closing very shortly. John is quick to rush to the right aisle and snatch up his game, happily thrusting it in his mom’s face as he dances around her with it.

“Thank you, mom. You’re the greatest ever.” He’s practically vibrating when he has to hand the game over to the shop clerk.

The woman has pink hair and piercings, and she laughs with his mother over his excitement.

His mom passes him the game back and he trots a few paces ahead of her, only waiting at the shop’s door for the umbrella his mom has brought with them.

They walk through the now empty car park, the lights above their head frame the cascading droplets of rain that belt across the tarmac. The shutters for the game shop shut slowly behind them, the bang of metal hitting cement just loud enough to be heard over the rain.

Their shoes splash through puddles and overflowing drains as they jog together to the car. John clutches his precious game close, keeping it shielded beneath the billowing folds of his open coat, a protective gesture born of his deep attachment to the newly acquired treasure. His mother, feeling the same way about John, kept him close to her side and safely under the umbrella.

It doesn’t matter in the end; both of them enter the car completely drenched. They sit silently, catching their breath, before bursting into laughter. John triumphantly waves the game above his head, as if he had just won a hard-fought football championship. Eleanor can't help but laugh at how her son's enthusiasm makes her feel young again. She feels like a bold teenager, recalling the times she ran through the rain for something as seemingly trivial as a video game.

John’s curls spill over his face, plastering themselves against his cheeks as drops of water spill onto his chin and down onto his jacket. His smile is contagious, infectious. His eyes shine in a way that an adult’s never can. They’re too pure, too naive, too telling of the emotion that lies behind them.

Eleanor swallows hard, ignoring the lump in her throat, hating that such wonderful moments like this have always made her feel sad.

She doesn’t want him to grow up, she decides. She pulls the car out of the parking lot and back onto the main road. She wants him to stay like this, paused in time, untouched by a world of deadlines and responsibilities.

It’s selfish really. It’s selfish to want John to stay the same.

She wants to stay feeling this young, this happy. She doesn’t want anything to change.

The road narrows in front of her as she leaves the perimeter of the town. John is doing his best to read the back of his game under the passing lights of the main road. But as they turn off onto the smaller, windier road that leads home, the only light source becomes the cars headlights.

Eleanor leans forward in the driver’s seat, squinting as the rain falls harder, more aggressively against the windshield. She can only see a few feet ahead of them as she drives. The sound of the rain is almost frightening now. The pelts of hail now drum against the metal casing of the car, filling their ears with the chilling, unsettling noise.

“Will there be lightning?” John suddenly asks, his attention drawn away from his game and to the window. He tries to scan the fields they’re passing, tries to watch the horizon for any flashes of light, but it’s just too dark and too vicious to make much out.

“Probably not until we’re home, Jack. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not scared.” Despite his words, her son’s voice quivers just a fraction. A tell tale sign that her son isn’t being completely honest.

“My brave little man.” Her eyes flick briefly to him, her hand dropping the gear stick as she pats him reassuringly on the shoulder.

He turns his attention from the window to her and they share a smile that speaks a hundred words all at once. A language they’d cultivated from glances and winks, that would take a linguist a lifetime to understand.

The moment lingers, draws itself out longer than a second should be able to. Eleanor stares at her son, frozen in time, his face bathed in the glow of the cars lights. Her head turns, faster than possible, and she see’s it at the last moment.

A lone fox stands in the road, its eyes reflecting their lights until they appear ominously red. But Eleanor's focus returns to her son as the world around her starts to distort and collapse.

The car is spinning, swerving the animal on a road that currently has more in common with an ice-rink. Eleanor can feel any grip she had before, disappear. The tires screech in protest, the back two locking up at the sudden slamming of the brakes. The left wheel lifts as the right side of the car lurches and veers towards a ditch.

Had it just been a few metres later, a few metres before, they might have hit one of the fences, the bushes, maybe the car would have stopped.

Instead, gravity reverses, the world become weightless, frozen.

The game John had been clutching is released, floating between the pair as loose change and parking tickets join it. Her son screams, his eyes clenched shut as the car flips, and flips again.

Eleanor is silent. Her eyes make up for her mouth as they desperately try to make sense of the disorienting whirl of the world around her. Direction and speed blur into insignificance as she loses sight of the road.

The last thing the headlights of the car illuminate for her is the fast-approaching earth that’s set to hit her window, her door, the whole front of the car.

Eleanor braces herself, trying to reach out to shield her son from the impending impact, but her efforts are in vain. Her seatbelt digs into her shoulder and sternum, overpowering her attempts to resist.

With the first flip, the airbag deploys, but it proves futile when the real impact comes crashing down.

Darkness engulfs Eleanor as the world succumbs to a silent oblivion.

--------------

John’s eyes flutter open, groggy, and disoriented. Raindrops create a loud, relentless, rhythmic beat on the car roof, as if trying to stir him from his confusion. For a moment, he's unsure of where he is and why everything feels so strange.

Then it hits him like a crashing wave—the realization that he's upside down. Panic surges through his veins, and he instinctively tries to right himself, but his seatbelt keeps him suspended in the air. His heart pounds louder, and fear claws at his chest.

A faint red-light glows just outside the car. The hazard lights, John would realise later. They flash briefly through the back window, only giving John a moment to make sense of the situation.

He glances out his window and realises he can’t see the road anymore. The car had flipped through a ditch and rolled down a slope leading into a marshy field. The nose of the car was embedded in mud and the whole vehicle tilted sideways, meaning his mother’s side of the car was trapped against the mud beneath them.

All John can see out of his window was the top of the slope they’d fallen from, the gap in the hedges that lead back to the road. He puts his arm out to reach for his door handle, to push back the walls that are shrinking around him as the truth of what is happening sinks in.

Pain shoots from his shoulder to his fingertips, almost knocking him out from the shock. His right arm is useless, laying limp against his side as the shoulder hangs lower than it ever had before. Even if his arm was fine, the slant of the car keeps him teasingly out of reach of the door. His short arms not long enough to climb up to it.

He shouts for his mother then, his voice quivering with desperation. He looks in her direction, waiting for the next flash of red. She doesn’t respond to his pleas. The darkness around them feels suffocating, and the rain mercilessly pelts the windshield, adding to the moving river of sludge that covers it.

The red glow returns, and John is confused. He can’t see all of his mother. Her hair hangs between his eyes and her face like a curtain. Her body is limp against her belt and her face hangs over the steering wheel.

It almost looks like water, like left over rain from before, that’s covering her skin. The red glow could be playing tricks on his eyes, but John knows it’s blood, even at eleven he realises his mother is badly hurt.

But as the glow fades, John tries to see more, to understand. But he can’t quite see her lower half, can’t make out what is going on outside her window. It should be mud. It should be the ground. Their bodies are being pulled that direction in their hanging, John knows this.

So, why does it look there’s movement on that side of the car? Why are their flashing sparkles from the red glow hitting off the area. Why can John hear the sound of small waves, of surging water and trickling streams.

A sickening realization dawns on him as the interior lights up red again, the answers becoming clear—the car is sinking, and water is seeping in from his mother's side. He can hear the dreaded gurgling sound as it rises, inch by inch, consuming the space around her. Panic surges through his veins as he realises the field had flooded from the stormy weather. The usually dry land has it’s unusual mini lakes and ponds that formed only in the poor weather.

Fumbling with trembling hands, he desperately tries to free himself from the tangled seatbelt. His small fingers struggle to find the release button, but the more he tries, the more it eludes him. He fumbles in the dark, his legs kicking uselessly against any surface they can reach as he tries to get some purchase, something he can push off.

He panics each time he’s blinded by the darkness. But each passing red light shows less and less of his mother, her left arm disappearing as her hair begins to spill out against the surface of the water.

"Come on, come on! Please, I need to get out! Please, Mom. Please help me." he cries, his voice cracking with terror. His heart races, pounding in his ears like a relentless drumbeat. Tears mix with raindrops, or maybe it’s blood, on his face, blurring his vision.

Outside, the rain pelts the car relentlessly, as if mocking his desperate situation. The sound of rushing water fills the air, drowning out all other noises, except for the pounding of his heart. The items inside the car now bob in the water, adding to the surreal nightmare as John spots his game floating beside her.

He can’t use his right arm for support or leverage, but he reaches out with his left anyways. His fingertips can just barely grasp at the fur on the shoulder of her coat. The once soft fabric now feels slimy and coarse from the weather.

“Mom, mom please. Mom, wake up.” He’s sobbing now, some of the shock wearing off as the minutes tick by.

He has to pull away, the strain from reaching for her unlocks new pain. He can feel it blossoming throughout his body, his young mind unaware of the adrenaline slowly wearing away.

The next glow of light shows the water licking the side of her face. One more push and her nose and mouth will go under too. She’s going to drown. She’s can’t. His mother can’t drown.

“Mom, mom it’s Jack. I need you. Mom, I can’t get out, I can’t move. Please, please wake up.” He’s shrieking now, his fingertips grazing her again as he does anything he can to get her attention.

Panic swells in his chest as the world fades to black again. He doesn’t stop screaming, trying to reach her, then trying to free himself. He’s stuck, useless.

He hears a splash. He hears something hit the water.

The car is bathed in red again and he sees the familiar glint in his mother’s eyes. Her eyes are open, she’s awake. She looks confused, empty, like a television showing only static.

“Mommy.” The old word slips out of his mouth, a name he hadn’t used for her since he was much younger. He breaks through the spell of her head trauma, the word drawing all her attention to him.

John feels hope rise in his chest again.

Her eyes are wiped away by the unforgiving, unstoppable murky water that now consumes her. Her arm flails and her body seems to jump back to life as she claws against the water. Hope surging in John’s heart as her chair shakes from her efforts

John waits for her to free herself, to hear her break the surface of the water.

Instead, he feels her hand as she reaches it towards him. Their hands meet in the space between them, and she squeezes his hand as if to say everything’s going to be alright.

The light flashes and John realises, for the first time in his short young life, that miracles don’t always come true. That life is not a film that’s scripted to have everything work out, that a hero doesn’t just appear at that perfect moment, nor does the damsel in distress always get rescued.

Her body convulses. She struggles to not pull her son down with her as her reality becomes clear. She’s going to die. She’s going to die here. She can’t breathe. It’s dark and no matter how she moves or twists her body…she can’t breathe.

Her son. Her son. Please someone save her son.

By the time John understands any of this, his mother’s body has gone limp, her hand slipping from his grasp.

“Mom, no. Mom, no. Mom, mom.” John’s voice is shrill, frantic as he tries to grab her arm with both hands. But he can’t. He’s stuck pulling with just his left arm. He tugs at her with all his strength, her body briefly follows his efforts. He can see the top of her head break the surface, before she slips from his fingertips.

Her body sags into the water and this time, John can’t find her with his outstretched hand. She’s too far away and he’s just too small.

The rain stops, before the water could even become a thought of a danger to John, it stops rising. Again, he’d find out later, that the car had also stopped sinking into the mud. That it had finally settled.

He hangs there in silence. He doesn’t know how much time passes. He can’t remember a single thought as they enter and leave his mind.

The hazard lights are the only indication that the world still spins, that time still passes. Everything else feels frozen. John almost convinces himself that even his heart has stopped. That’s what it feels like, anyways.

The world eventually glows a different colour than red.

A yellow light shines on the car, bright and dazzling. John briefly wonders if it’s the sun, or maybe it’s an angel. Maybe it’s his mom.

His vision is darkening now. The bright light making him realise the corners of his world can’t be lit up. That something is consuming his vision, his mind.

He feels the rumble of frantic shouting in his chest, more than he hears it with his ears. The door is wretched open, and as John stares up at it, he can see the clouds have broken apart. That stars twinkle above him, as clear as diamonds shining in the sky.

His father grabs him and pulls him from the wreck. Every muscle and bone scream to a crescendo as he’s carried away. He’s dropped somewhere on the slope, somewhere grassy and safe and the bite of the cold wet earth keeps him awake just long enough to see his father rush back to the car.

John can’t hear what he’s yelling, but he knows it’s his mother’s name.

Eleanor.

She’s always been his mother, his mom, his mommy. She’d never been that name, not to John.

His eyes close as his father launches himself into the car, battling against gravity as he fights to find her, to free her, maybe even to save her.

Eleanor.

John wonders what she was like. Who Eleanor was when she wasn’t his mother.

Eleanor.

The last shriek his father lets out, his mother’s name piercing through the otherwise silent night.

The last thing John will ever remember about that night. Hearing her name yelled again, and again, and again.

Eleanor.

Mom.

Chapter Text

“Jack.”

His dad hasn’t called him that since…

“Jack, it wasn’t…you didn’t…” His father closes the space between them.

John flinches when his dad rests a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t realise they were shaking until his dad squeezes one of them, almost anchoring him back to reality.

He’s never told his father what that night was like. He hadn’t been able to find the words to admit what he’d done, what he’d failed to do.

His mother had drowned in shallow water not even a metre away from him, and he hadn’t been able to stop it. He dragged her out into that night, into the storm. It was his impatience, his entitlement, his weakness that led to it all.

“You did not kill your mother.”

They’re not the words John is expecting to hear.

As he turns his gaze away from the portrait, John's eyes lock with his father's, their faces now mere inches apart. In that fleeting moment, he can see the simmering anger, like a tempest lurking just behind his father's eyes. The atmosphere feels tense, and John's heart skips a beat, because his father hasn’t looked at him like this since he realised John was gay.

John takes a deep breath to steady himself and observes more closely, a strange revelation dawns on him as he realises, no, this time is different. The anger he sees isn't directed at him; it's not a wrathful storm unleashed on his account. Instead, it's something else, something unrelated to him.

“You were eleven.” Henry is whispering now, like he’s trying to prevent the echo effect that haunts this needlessly large room. “You were insistent, ungrateful, impatient, disappointed.”

John does his best, but he can’t help but flinch as his father spits the words out.

“But you were a child. And your mother…she…” His father’s hands falls to his side. He turns away from John, like he’s terrified his eyes will give something away.

“She gave into it, gave into you. She indulged you, gave everything to you. She was spineless and weak when it came to you.”

John's hands ball into tight fists, his entire body trembling with an overwhelming surge of fury and energy. How could he utter such hurtful words? Speaking about her in such a demeaning manner?

“She loved me.”

His father’s hands clasp behind his back as he paces towards the nearest window. He nods his head as he stares out at the torrential rainfall.

“Love made her irrational.”

“She loved you.” It almost hurt John to say it, but it was true. For all that was awful about his father, his mother had found something to love about him.

“Love wasn’t the half of it. Do you know why we worked? Why our marriage lasted, how we had five healthy children together?”

His father turns his head just enough that one eye can see John as he shakes his head.

“Love made her irrational, and it made me…rationale.” His father turns and leans back on the windowsill. His gaze falls to his shoes as he continues.

“I was wild when I met your mother. A rising politician with too many opportunities and too much time to spend running my mouth. I wanted change, I wanted to fix and heal this country, and I thought I could do it. I thought I could give my life to America, give all my love to her.”

Henry hasn’t spoken to him about his mother since her funeral. John can’t remember if there was ever a time in his life where his father spoke about the past, spoke about what he was like, when he was John’s age.

“Your mother was the opposite. She was dignity and grace wrapped in the most beautiful dresses, the most wonderful style. Her mind and tongue as sharp as rose thorns. She strode into my life, and I was helpless. I followed her to our wedding and this home, and eventually to you. The day you were born John, everything changed.”

A crack of lightning interrupts them, both their eyes drawn to the light. His father waits for the rumble of thunder to pass, before he continues.

“I felt all my convictions leave me as soon as I saw your face, heard your cry. All I could think about then, was protecting you, protecting my family. I became the rationale one. While your mother, having successfully reached her dream of a family, saw no danger. She lived only for her children’s happiness. We fought more than we ever had, my fear against her love.”

“It’s not a crime to love your children.” John’s voice is strained, his eyes are burning again.

Henry shakes his head, a small smile curling on his lips, like what John said is amusing.

“We worked because she could love and spoil you as much as her heart desired, and I would always be there to reel her back in.” Now his father’s eyes find him again. “I would set the rules, I would ensure your safety, and I would make sure nothing ever happened to this family.”

“You became a dictator.” John can’t even smile as his words, as satisfying as they were to say to him.

His father finds a smile, however. In fact, he finds laughter. He laughs in John’s face at the accusation.

“Not to your mother, oh my, never to her. She had the will of a god. No, I would argue with her until we could reach a compromise, until she saw sense. Until I saw the looks on your faces when she got her way, when you were all at your happiest.”

His father stands and closes the distance again, placing a hand on John’s shoulder.

“I should have stopped your mother that evening, John. I was the other adult there; I’d seen the weather warnings on the television. I could have played the bad guy, sent you to your room, demanded your mother see sense. She would have been furious, would have debated me long after you had gone to bed. I would have had weeks of resentment from both of you…but she…she would still be here if I had.”

John is crying now. His tears matching his father’s as he stares at him in disbelief. John has never thought…never even considered what his father regretted about that night, what he might think. John has always just assumed that his father had to have blamed him.

“I promised myself after that, there’d be no more compromise. That I would follow my instinct with all of you, to keep you safe. I will not allow myself another regret like this one. Even if it means you loathe me, John. I don’t care. I know now, there is a much worse feeling than being hated.”

John can hear the echoes of his father screaming his mother’s name. He understands. It’s hard for him to grasp, but he finally understands his father.

He hugs him. Not because his father is right. Not because this is the moment where John finally agrees with him. He hugs him because he realises in that moment, his father is the only other person alive that feels the same pain that John does. He hugs his father because beyond all his flaws, misconceptions and lies, there’s a man that John does love. A man that John can understand. A man that is his father.

His father tenses as John wraps his arms around him, his face pressing against his father’s chest. It takes him a few seconds, but slowly Henry returns it. Neither of them dares to speak as an unknown amount of time stretches between them.

When John finally pulls back, he’s composed himself.

“I don’t hate you.” John never thought he’d speak those words and mean them. “I understand now. Or at least, I think I do. You think that me coming out as gay, is like that night, right? You’re trying to protect me from running stubbornly into another dangerous situation, for seemingly my own selfish wants.”

“Exactly.” His father lets out a breath that John hadn’t noticed he’d been holding.

“You’re wrong.”

“John I-”

“No. No let me speak, now. I know you think being gay is a choice, and you think I’m choosing this ‘dangerous’ life, and that if you’re persuasive enough, I won’t go for it. But this isn’t a stormy night, or dangerous roads, or something you can prevent. You can’t dictate who someone loves, and you can’t ask me to spend my life alone, and unhappy.”

John stares defiantly into his father’s eyes.

“You already know what a life like that is like. Except for you…what’s that famous quote? It’s better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all. You know what it was like to love her, and yes that love has caused you so much pain, but would you change any of it? Would you go back and make it that you’d never met mom? Was there ever a chance of you resisting her?”

John can’t help but think of brown curly hair and sharp brown eyes as he speaks.

“That’s not the same as-”

“But it is! I can’t resist love anymore than you could. And I can’t stop it from changing me, and what I want. You met mom and your whole life, your priorities and aspirations changed. Maybe that’s the curse of being a Laurens. Maybe we’re destined for love, destined to be changed by it. I love someone dad. And yeah, it’s a man. I don’t know if I stand a chance with him, I don’t know if we’ll ever work out. But what I do know, is that not even trying, giving into your fears, will leave me as hollow and misguided as you’ve been, ever since mother passed.”

John swallows back the lump in his throat, determined to get through this.

“I don’t need you to change or accept any of that. I just need to know that you’ll stay out of my way as I do it.”

“John, the media will-”

“Have to accept it. I’m sure it’ll be some big messy news piece, but I’m ready for it now. And they’ll move onto something new eventually…”

“John, you’re my son, they will use this to tear down any of my policies, they’ll call me a hypocrite, unreliable. I still have work to do.”

“Then do it. Compromise, change, evolve, I don’t care. You’ve always been the most aggressive, confident, smartest man I’ve ever known. I’ve loathed you for it, hated how I never stood a chance when arguing with you. Use that. Go save America, save all of it. Not just the pretty people that worship the hate you spread.”

His father swallows hard and turns to stare at his walls of awards. His brows knit into one and John notices the curling of his hands into loose fists.

“Or don’t. Disown me if that solves the problems instead. I won’t mind, dad. I’ll understand. Just don’t stop me from seeing my siblings and help me through school. Then, I won’t bother you again. I won’t accept any interviews or comment on anything you do. I’ll use mom’s name if I must. I won’t hate you for it, I don’t think I know how to hate you anymore.”

Because I pity you now.

His father doesn’t answer. John realises that he doesn’t know how to. He doesn’t know what he’ll do next. John has probably just turned his whole world upside down, or maybe right-side up.

“Think about it. I’ll be gone early in the morning, but I’ll be back in a few weeks after my winter finals. I won’t make anything public until then.”

Henry’s jaw locks and he nods to show he’s heard him. But he doesn’t speak again.

He doesn’t look at John once as he leaves the study.

John’s not sure if his father is capable of change. But for the first time ever, the tough decision-making rests in his hands. John has finally freed himself.

----------------------------------------------------

John leaves the house before his siblings wake up. He didn’t have the time or energy to explain to them why he’d come home so suddenly and why he is leaving as abruptly. They’d just get upset that he couldn’t spend time with them, and John didn’t have the spoons to deal with that, and the other thing he has planned for today.

He locks the door to the house with one hand, his other clutching a still warm piece of paper, fresh from the printer. He folds the page in two as he descends the stairs to the front door and makes his way over to his car. He puts it carefully in a pocket on the inside of his jacket.

The back of his neck itches as he gets into his car. He can feel his father’s eyes watching him, probably from the upstairs hallway, but he doesn’t check. He just starts up the car and makes his way back to college.

The long drive is needed, considering how much has happened in just twenty-four hours. It’s a chance for John to turn his brain off. He lets the fields and the towns, and the highway pass him by, their blurring colours easing John’s racing mind.

He doesn’t play anything off the radio. The hum of the car is enough. It takes away the edge of silence while allowing John to listen to the lyrics playing in his head. He’d already done the impossible last night. He could do the impossible again.

By the time he arrives back at campus, all his classes are over. It’s nearing four o’clock when he gets on the shuttle bus that will take him back to the main campus. He swears it’s slower, purposely making more stops than usual.

It’s strange that he’d only left yesterday evening, but already it felt like days have passed. Perhaps that was due to the minimal sleep he’d managed to get, thanks to his race to be out of the house so early.

Soon enough, they pull up at his usual stop. As he’s walking towards his dorm his phone goes off.

Thomas: Yo, thought you’d gone back to your dads, but just saw sight of Charles’ face xD I’m sure there’s a story you’re dying to tell us… Where you at? We’re all heading to Rocket’s diner.

Oh, right. Surely, Charles has started a whole rumour mill about him by now. At least John can bet the conservatives and the debaters on campus will have heard about it. Also, once again John has unintentionally left his friends in the dark. He has some explaining to do…and a certain secret to share.

John: I’ll have to pass, but I’ll meet you guys after dinner, I got some news.

He puts his phone in his pocket and tries not to think about any of that for now. One problem at a time.

As he enters the foyer of the dormitory building, he just barely misses getting caught out by Lafayette and Mulligans. He just catches sight of the back of them as they make their way into the shared kitchen, no sight of Alex.

Hopefully, that means he’s sulking up in their room. The realisation brings a new wave of guilt through John as he thinks about it, but he also can’t hide the relief that he might just get Alex by himself.

He takes the stairs two at a time, only stopping to throw his bag into his room before he makes his way over to the other door. He makes a point of not glancing at Alex’s bare side of their room as he does so. He needs to stay focused for this.

He knocks on the door, three sharp raps with his knuckles.

Silence follows.

“Alex. It’s John.”

He hears shuffling inside, like someone is approaching the door, but they stop on the other side.

“I know you’re in there. I saw the others downstairs.”

John looks nervously up and down the hallway, relieved no one else is around to see him talking, loudly, to a door.

“Fuck off, Laurens.”

John can feel the butterflies fluttering in his stomach, finally hearing Alex’s voice after nearly twenty-four hours. He didn’t know he could miss a person’s voice this much. How had John not realised sooner, just how obsessed he is?

“You have to talk to me eventually. Just let me explain.” John leans in closer to the door, resting one of his fists against it. He wonders, from how close Alex’s voice sounded, if he’s doing the same.

“Just leave me alone. I don’t care about whatever excuse you’ve come up with.”

He doesn’t sound angry this time. He sounds defeated, tired. John wonders if he’d gotten as little sleep as John had, last night.

“Five minutes.”

John does his best to barter.

“And then I’ll piss off.”

“No thanks. You don’t get another minute of my time. In fact, I’m walking away Laurens, and putting my headphones on.”

He hears footsteps retreating and panic seizes in his throat. It’s okay though, he’s prepared for this.

“How about ten seconds then? You don’t even have to look at me.”

John pulls the folded-up paper out of his pocket, his hand shaking as he realises, he actually has to use it. If this doesn’t work…if Alex keeps it…John swallows to remind himself he still can, that his throat hasn’t closed up. He bends down to slide the sheet under the door. If he didn’t trust Alex with this, then none of his feelings or the things he’s done would matter.

“Just look at that, please. It’s why- It’s…” John struggles to make any sense. This isn’t something he’s going to yell in the corridor. “I’ll explain if you want me to, just look at it.”

John leans on the wall beside the door. He can hear Alex slowly approach the door again. It might be his imagination, but he swears he can hear the page being dragged against the floor as Alex scoops it up.

His knees feel weak as it becomes clear that Alex is looking at it, studying it at this very moment. John’s secret is finally…well not a secret. He might get sick. If he’d managed to eat more than a coffee and a scone today, he might have.

He turns his head to the door when a full thirty seconds has passed. It stubbornly gives nothing away about the reaction of the man on the other side. Instead, John catches sight of a warped version of himself shining off the clean white board. The barest hints of his clothing and hair reflecting back at him.

He hears the door unlock. John feels the room spin as he pushes off the wall and forces himself to stand tall.

Alex half hides behind the door. He seems smaller than usual, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt that John had only ever seen him wear to bed. He looks visibly worn out, evident from the dark circles under his eyes, which matched John's own weariness. Alex's lips were tightly pursed, forming a barely visible thin line. His expression proves enigmatic, but if John has to sum it up in a single word, he'd choose "calculating." The creases on his forehead and the tautness of his facial muscles betray how intensely he’s observing John. The page isn’t in sight, so John has to assume he’s clutching it in the hand that’s hidden behind the door.

“What- is this real?” Alex is frowning now; his studious expression being replaced by uncertain anger.

John can’t blame him for questioning it.

“Uh yeah…unfortunately.”

Alex misunderstands and raises an eyebrow as if to say are you for real? John quickly realises how it sounds out loud with no context.

“I just mean, I didn’t…I wasn’t aware a photo was being taken. It wasn’t a friend or anything” He hastily explains, without going into detail. He’s not having this conversation in the hallway.

“Then who did?”

John can’t help but check the hallway again as voices echo from the staircase.

“Can I come in? Then I’ll answer whatever questions you have.”

Alex weighs him up for a moment, briefly he looks behind the door again, staring at the photo. John can feel a blush rising to his neck, but he doesn’t run. He waits until Alex nods his head and walks away from the door, leaving it open for John to follow.

Alex is sitting on the bed to the left by the time John closes the door. It’s probably his half-brothers, but it feels fitting that it’s the same side of the room that is Alex’s in their dorm. John is suddenly very aware that this is not a room he’s welcome in, so he half sits on the side of Mulligan’s desk instead. Basically, leaning against it, rather than perched on it.

Alex is staring at the image again. John had received the image with a threat from Lee last night, hours after John had punched him in the face. It looks grainy having been printed out on his home printer, but the image is clear enough. It’s easy to make out his face kissing what’s clearly some guy in the middle of a club.

“I don’t know who took it.” John shrugs, not realising how bitter he still felt about that until he can hear the disdain in his voice. “But whoever it was…they somehow knew Lee.”

Alex inhales sharply, his attention going from the picture to John’s face. John wants to look away, suddenly terrified by the emotions he’ll find in the other’s eyes. But he doesn’t let himself. He owed it to Alex to be vulnerable, to show him exactly how he felt about all of this.

“Lee printed this off?”

John can’t help but laugh, it probably did seem weird that John had been the one to do it.

“Nah, I brought it in case…well I assumed my word wouldn’t mean much, after yesterday.” John explains, his hands now grabbing onto the edge of the desk. The bite of the sharp edges of the wood helps to ground him as he continues.

“When I went into the diner…” It was hard not to notice the flinch on Alex’s face as he mentions the place, John looks away briefly, pretending not to notice the slip. “Lee was there with his team. They were sitting in the coffee shop around the corner. I guess it was the best place to stop, coming from the university.”

John takes a moment to breath, realising he’s rushing to get the words out, desperate to explain it all before Alex can interrupt him. But his roommate seems content to listen. A very strange thing to see.

“He told me my father was attending…I had no idea; I’d asked him not to come…but the Lee’s can be pretty persuasive when they want to be. He was going to tell me at the debate, startle me just before it started and use it to make me swap teams…it was a coincidence that it happened in the diner.”

Alex frowns, the story not quite adding up yet as the picture in his hand still isn’t relevant. But from the sounds of it, it still makes sense.

“So, what? You abandoned us without a word because you were afraid of your father seeing you debate with the likes of us?” Alex tries to sound cross, but it comes out sombrely bitter.

“No. I actually told Lee I wouldn’t do it.”

“Oh.” Alex leans back on the bed. His hands dig into the bed sheet as they steady him. He takes a long look at the man he’s spent hours with daily since the start of the semester. He’s studying Lafayette’s desk as though it’s the most interesting thing in the world, but when Alex doesn’t say anything more, his focus changes.

Their eyes lock and despite how many times Alex has felt lied to by John, he can’t help but feel he’s telling the truth.

“Why?”

“I’m not afraid of my father. Sure, I didn’t want him there. I knew there’d be trouble with it… but I was willing to handle it, and I thought beating Lee in front of both our dads would be…satisfying, I guess.”

“But you did ditch us…without a word.” Now Alex sounds angry. The fear that had consumed him yesterday, right up until the moment it was replaced with devastating pain and confusion. Nothing could keep those emotions from spilling into his tone, shifting his face into a scowl.

“When I didn’t jump ship, Lee took out his phone.” John bites the inside of his cheek briefly, the pain helping to stop the quivering of his body. He points, probably unnecessarily at the photo in Alex’s hands.

“He showed me that…it was taken weeks ago, during Halloween. I- well obviously from the photo, I never saw it being taken. I had no idea it existed until yesterday.”

Alex doesn’t say anything in response, John had looked away again at some point, so he looks back to Alex, trying to study him. His roommate’s brows are knitted into one, he’s frowning at his knees like he’s trying to work something out. John doesn’t mean to keep talking, but he can’t handle the silence.

“He didn’t say what he’d do with it if I didn’t join him, but I think that made it worse. Knowing someone like him had it and…could put it anywhere, send it to any number of PR people…I know it sounds stupid, and it’s a terrible excuse, but I didn’t even register what I was doing until I was in his car, already leaving. I was…afraid, and a coward about it. I’d always been so careful, I felt like a fool.” He lets out a self-depreciating chuckle as he clasps his hands together. He looks away before Alex can catch his eye. It’s not easy to tell your frenemey crush that you’re pathetic and weak.

Always been so careful? Alex feels his traitorous heart speed up at the simple phrase, did he intend to say it that way?

“This- I mean- this isn’t the only time you-” Kissed a boy? Alex can’t believe he’s stuttering as he waves the photo around, indicating what he’s trying to say.

He’d planned a million things to say to John last night, when sleep had evaded him, but they’re lost on him now. Never in the hundreds of scenarios he’d played out, the made-up arguments John could make at him, never once had he once imagined John coming out during it.

John shakes his head. Why was this so difficult? Had he really only come out to people online before this? In person sucked. How is he meant to do this more than once? Or will it get easier as everyone always claims? John can’t imagine this ever being easy.

“We can’t all be bisexual.” John tries to joke, but a smile doesn’t quite appear on his face. It ends up sounding sullen instead. John never had the option of trying to find a woman to love, or even to fool around with. “Yeah, that picture wasn’t a one-time thing.”

“Wait, so you-”

Before Alex can finish his assumption, for once, John interrupts him.

“Have never even kissed a girl. Never wanted to.”

He’s never admitted that before. Most people would find that to be some loophole as to why John can’t be 100% gay, not if he hasn’t tried the alternative. But John just knows, deep in his bones and in the part of his gut that tightens when he sees a good-looking man. He doesn’t have it in him to be attracted to a woman, he never has.

When John and Alex had their last big revelation, when John had convinced Alex he wasn’t homophobic, his roommate had been suspicious, angry even. It’s different now.

“This isn’t another trick…is it?” Alex speaks like each word is glass. If he’s too loud, too quick, they’ll shatter. John knows that with all that’s happened, it probably looks like he’s been lying through his teeth this whole time. He can’t blame Alex for sounding tired, done with it all.

“I never meant to trick you. I haven’t been lying…I don’t know why it’s all been so difficult.”

“You could have just told me. The first day, when we were moving in. It would have changed everything.”

“You didn’t exactly give me a chance.” John points out, relieved that Alex is back to debating with him, even in a small way.

Alex laughs then, hearty and a little deranged. He grabs his stomach as the sounds bounce off the walls, reverberating through the room.

“Am I missing a punchline?” John can’t help but ask. He wonders if he somehow broke the other man. He wasn’t even at the hardest bit yet…

“Sorry, sorry- I just- hah- I feel like for once, I agree with you.” Alex shakes his head as he tries to get rid of the last of his giggles. He didn’t mean to laugh; the lack of sleep and complete rollercoaster of the last day must have finally caught up with him.

John takes a risk and pushes himself off the desk, joining Alex on the bed. The mattress dips from the extra weight and they end up closer than John had planned.

“So, uh, I’m sorry about yesterday.” John realises he hasn’t said those words yet. “Only a handful of people know about me…and I was scared of the media getting their hands on that photo. I’ve had some…tough times with them in the past. I could have handled things better, at least texted you when it happened… I can’t change any of that now, but I can promise I won’t do something like that again. No matter what excuse I have.”

Alex isn’t sure how much a promise means from John. He’s not really convinced he knows anything about John anymore. His roommate feels like an imposter of the man he’d built up in his head. But when he glances down at John’s photo again, he can feel something pull at his heart, can feel a twist in his gut.

He can’t fathom someone threatening him with something like this. That this moment, captured in time, could be used to ruin John’s life. Alex has never feared what people think about him. Mainly because he’s used to people thinking so little of him. He couldn’t imagine anything that someone could use against him as viciously as this. Alex tries to imagine what it would be like, being in John’s shoes. But it’s difficult.

“What happened before, with the media? I thought it’d be your father you were worried about.” Alex feels a flicker of guilt from his prodding, but if John wants Alex to accept his apology, then he’s going to need to understand why John went to such an extreme in the first place.

“My dad knows.”

Oh.

Now, that is a surprise.

“Because of this?” Alex holds up the picture.

“No. He found out years ago. It’s actually why I moved high schools. I may have left that conveniently out before.” John confesses, referencing their recent chat in the diner.

“He caught you with someone?” Alex eyes widened, trying to imagine the pinched face of Henry Laurens catching sight of some homos, of his son with a homo…his son being a homo. He plays the videos in his head, the ones he’s seen online of Henry ranting at rallies about the gay agenda, the trans pandemic, Alex can’t imagine the things he’s said to his own son.

“Pretty much. We didn’t really talk about it afterwards. He made it clear no one was meant to find out.” John almost whispers the last part. “As long as I respected that, he turned a blind eye to any…private meetings I had.”

Alex doesn’t mean to, but he looks at John with such pity, such sympathy. John has to look away. It’s not an expression he’s used to seeing on his face. Before Alex can say something awful, like he’s sorry or something, John answers his earlier question.

“When I was eleven, as you know, my mother died. But I uh- well, the thing is…she didn’t just-” John pauses, trying to formulate the least painful way to say it. In the end, he treats it like a band aid.

“She died in a car accident. I was in the passenger seat with her, and she didn’t die on impact. It was…slow.” The word slow isn’t enough, but John isn’t willing to tell the story again, so soon. “The media wanted to know everything. A woman who had seen in a shop just before, swore I was in the car too. My dad spent weeks afterwards trying to disprove her, trying to make it seem like my mom was alone. They didn’t leave me alone for months, desperate for an interview, or even a statement. They hid outside my school, my home, I couldn’t go anywhere until they were tired of the story. Until it wasn’t helping to sell papers or magazines anymore. I never really got over that feeling of being followed or watched. I never wanted that kind of attention again.”

“Which you would have gotten with this.”

They both stare at the photo for a minute, in silence. John is grateful that Alex stays silent, that he doesn’t comment on the tragedy of it all.

Alex extends his hand to John, the picture hanging between them.

“I forgive you.”

John takes the photo from him with wide eyes, tucking it away into one of his pockets.

“Just like that?”

“Well…” Alex is smirking now, doing his best to lighten the mood.

“I’m not saying I’m forgetting or anything, and I will definitely be using this for the next while to get my way-” John lets out a genuine bark of laughter, relief overwhelming him as Alex cracks a joke, is teasing him again. The sound makes Alex’s stomach flip, he tries to will it away.

“But I guess, I also have an apology to make. I was too quick to put you in a box…which is ironic because I was assuming you were the one doing that to me…Think you can forgive me?”

The way Alex looks up at him through his eyelashes…John doesn’t stand a chance at denying him a single thing.

“I guess, if you’re going to be insufferable otherwise.”

They share a genuine smile, the warmth of it surprising them both. Without planning to, they both look away from one another, their cheeks tinted red.

Eventually, as always, Alex thinks of something else to say.

“I know I didn’t make it easy, but why didn’t you tell me the night I confronted you in our room? You had to convince me that you weren’t a homophobe, why not just tell me then? I know I was an ass, but I never would have outed you.”

Alex wonders if he’d made such a bad first impression of himself, that John would truly think that lowly of him.

“I almost did, in a way…” John can’t look at Alex as he thinks back to that night, that argument. When their faces had been inches apart, both of them filled with unbridled frustration and anger.

“In a way?” Alex brows lock in that familiar characteristic line, a visual representation of the mental gears turning.

“When you got in my face about it all…I thought about kissing you, just to shut you up.”

John can’t believe he’s said the words aloud. The man has just forgiven him…he does not need to know this. How could he think of John in that way at all? He just found out John is gay.

“Just to shut me up?”

John is mortified by the smirk splitting Alex’s face.

“Shut up!” John does not mean for it to sound defensive. He also doesn’t mean to give Alex more canon fodder either, and yet-

“Still using your words huh?”

If the ground could swallow John up right now, that would be splendid.

Alex can’t believe this. His stomach is doing flips, he’s teasing John Laurens, no- he’s flirting with him. The other man is as red as a tomato. He’s not disgusted by any of it, it’s all been here this whole time. Just trapped behind redacted thoughts and history, and their own egos.

He’s lost admiring the red-faced look on the other man, that he doesn’t notice John’s hand until it’s goosed his side. He leans away from John with a panicked laugh, glaring at the man shortly after.

“Careful, Hamilton.” John warns, no malice or intent behind the words. “I know your kryptonite.”

“I don’t think you do.” Alex’s smile turns sad, his eyes changing the meaning behind the same curl of his lips. As if John hasn’t consumed Alex’s thoughts, as though the man isn’t the only thing capable of ruining or making Alex’s day. As if he didn’t just spend an entire night mourning someone he hardly knew, who was hidden behind secrets and assumptions all this time.

Suddenly all the happy moments, all the kind tender times that kept Alex awake the last few weeks. The times where Alex couldn’t deny his body’s reactions, the blushing, the nervousness, it has all been so obvious. The truth behind John, is that he’s a fighter. He’s strong and determined, he’s afraid and a worrier, he’s clever and a dunce, and despite everything that’s happened to him, he’s a lover.

“I’ve thought about kissing you too.”

Both their eyes widen at the confession. Alex just as surprised as John.

“But you didn’t- you couldn’t have known, right?” John suddenly feels panic gnawing at his chest once again.

“No. But you didn’t exactly act like we were just friends…even if enemies was a more accurate word, it always felt…passionate.” Alex stares at their knees that are now brushing one another’s, at Johns hand that’s resting on his knee. It’s so easy to reach for it.

“That’s why I didn’t kiss you.”

Alex’s attention snaps back to John’s face, utter confusion broadcasting from his expression.

“When I wanted to shut you up…even if it would have been satisfying, I couldn’t bring myself to do it for that reason. It had to be for more than that. Everything we’ve ever said or done to one another, has felt so…as you put it, passionate. I couldn’t kiss you like it meant nothing.”

“Oh.” Is the only response Alex’s brain is currently capable of making. “I was going to mention…something, maybe. But you seemed so freaked when I mentioned my- crush, on someone.” Alex falters on the word crush, realising he now has to admit it out loud. He quickly covers it up by impersonating John “Why would I need to know if a guy is straight? Kind of scared me off.”

“That’s- fair. I almost went after you…but I didn’t know how to explain my tone without explaining everything…”

“Which you weren’t ready to do.” Alex finishes, showing John he understood, and isn’t upset about it anymore. “I get it now. It’s funny, looking back on it.”

Silence falls over them, but it’s not awkward or tense this time. There’s a comfort in it.

“So-” John draws out the word, using the same teasing tone Alex had used against him just moment before. “You had a crush on me?”

Now it was Alex’s turn to look embarrassed. But instead of getting defensive, he pushes back.

“Yes, but it’s definitely long gone now.” Alex nods his head confidently, but John knows him too well to not notice the playfulness in his speech.

“Oh, that’s too bad.” John lolls his head away from Alex, as though he was staring sadly off into the far corner of the room.

“Why’s that?” Alex is grinning at John now, readying another quip.

He is not prepared for the way John flicks his head back, his body twisting until their faces are inches apart. John’s breathe tickles across his lips and Alex forgets how to breathe, not a mind how to talk.

“Because, if I thought I still had a chance, I might just kiss you now.”

“Well…you know what they say about crushes.” Alex is trying to control his breathing, trying to stop his eyes from flicking between John’s eyes and his lips. He almost loses control when John’s tongue darts out to wet his own lips. “They’re fickle things. But I suppose…I could be convinced.”

“Good.” Is all John wants to say as he leans in. But he still feels a pang of guilt, for everything, and nothing. It’s infuriating.

“Is this, okay?” He almost mouths the question against Alex’s lips. The other man chuckles then, John feeling every exhale.

“Shut up and kiss me, Laurens.”

It’s not fireworks, or explosions, or anything that Disney would have you believe. It’s better. It’s soft and it’s careful. Both of them kissing like they might somehow break it. John isn’t sure if ‘it’ is each other, the kiss, or the moment in general.

All he knows is that it’s better. It’s new. It’s nothing like he’s expected, which fits their relationship perfectly. The unexpected. The misjudged.

John could kiss Alex like this forever.

Their hands move without any plan or purpose. One of Alex’s grabs at John’s hair, his fingers tangling in John’s curls. His other hand rests on the bed behind John, allowing him to lean into the other man without knocking him over. John brings a hand up to cup Alex’s face, almost as though he’s afraid he’ll pull away. His other hand lands on Alex’s knee, his thumb absentmindedly caressing the rough denim.

Before anything can escalate, before their hands move any further, before John’s tongue can make its way out of his own mouth, the door to the room opens.

Both their eyes open in panic before they even consider pulling apart. By the time they do, the pair at the door had already gotten an eyeful.

Lafayette has his arms crossed, his glare swapping between targets. Mulligans was in the middle of eating a doughnut, and looks very caught off guard, doing his best to swallow whatever’s in his mouth as he briefly chokes on it.

“Well, well. What’s all this?”

Round two, John thinks to himself, realising his coming out story is not quite done.

But as Alex laughs awkwardly to break the tension, and grabs John’s hand, he realises, the hardest part is behind him.

He’s no longer alone in this.