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hollywoodx4 · 7 years

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Sticking with the Schuylers (31)

I really had to think about how many chapters this has good lord 31 chapters of you guys sticking through it-and supporting it-and commenting and loving and I just-Thanks for everything you do, I love you all so much. This one’s a long one because I feel bad for my post-vacation I think I might have walking pneumonia lack of updates this week.

(Happy Easter to those who celebrate it-Happy weekend to those who don’t!)

Tagging: @ellzabethschuyler (Hope you’re feeling well and wonderful!)

Let’s talk about John Laurens and the media....

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There are many things that present themselves as a façade in New York City; cozy chairs that dig into bodies in just the wrong way, discount coffees just above five dollars…the entire city seems to live as a picture of itself, showing a version that it would rather be than what it truly is. To tourists it is perfect, picturesque. They arrive in Times Square, or Central Park, or Rockafeller Center with every picture they had seen online ideally filled. They traipse with their tour groups in safety and with careful guidance. There is no guesswork-only the ability to lay back and enjoy the sights while somebody else does the work.

There were many things about New York City that had stunned Alexander when he had first arrived; a seventeen year old who had lived a life mostly taken up by the care of his mother or the desperate scrambling to get out. There were so many people, always rushing about, with goals in their minds and dreams tucked in their pockets. And he relished them, these dreams. These people with their brief cases-their shoulder bags, their purses….each person who walked by Alexander had a life separate from his own. And although his own life had been a struggle he was here, walking through the city reading street signs to find his way to Columbia.

It was his dream; the people, the crowds…Alexander had waited so long to get out of the Caribbean that it came as a shock to him that he was among this life now-that he wasn’t just a map-muddled tourist. This was his world, with its bright lights and throngs of busyness. He longed to be an immediate part of it. At seventeen, he yearned for the opportunity to be a part of something.

One of the first things he decided to do was grab something to eat-the journey to the city had been long and tiresome, and there were many things that weighed deep on his mind. Every so often in the face of a passerby-a beautiful child, a work-worn mother-he would find a fragment of the delicate features his own mother had possessed. His stomach is in knots by the time he reaches a tucked-away café, whose doorway sits in an alley rather on the main streets. He tosses his bag under a table and orders a coffee and a croissant, proudly handing the cashier his money before tucking into a long table situated in front of the window. The windows face the street in this shop, and although Alexander thinks this is a little backwards he is thankful for the peace that people watching brings him.

He sits with a pen and an old notebook, bound by hand and given to him as a gift by a shop owner in Nevis he had grown close to. She spent her days binding these notebooks, and even as a boy Alex would stop by her shop whenever possible, always carrying around one of the books and an idea in his head. When he left she was teary-eyed, wishing that his dreams would be fulfilled as she pressed the soft leather cover in his hands. Now, it sits open on the table. He records what he sees-each passerby with their own description, the emotions running rampant and dancing across the pages. He flips the pages fervently, looking up only occasionally to think-to take in another centimeter of the scenery or to enjoy the coffee that has already grown slightly cold.

Once, in the middle of a particularly long span of writing about the differences between foot traffic between this city and Nevis, he looks up to find somebody sitting next to him. The man looks to be about his age, with hair as seemingly unruly as his pulled neatly into a ponytail that fluffs up at the ends. His coffee-colored features are splashed with a layer of freckles that dot a playful line across his cheeks, which lift in a smile as Alex looks over at him. He waves. Alex nods, looking between the man and his notebook, unsure of what to say.

“You’re a writer, I’m guessing?” The freckled teen begins the conversation, breaking the silence for Alex. He nods again before realizing that he should speak, clearing his throat with a hesitance.

“Yeah-mostly for myself, though.”

“And the bag?” He uses his foot to gesture to Alex’s navy blue duffle, on the floor below his feet and stuffed with what little possessions he had arrived with. Alex shrugs, moving it further underneath the high table with his foot. He feels his face redden-he knows the usual social implications which being an immigrant will bring him. Those truths were already engrained in his mind when he stepped off the train in the city; by those in his village, by his mother…even passersby who did not know his story. People either embraced his past-the past of so many others in the city-or spat the word immigrant as if it were a disease rather than an accomplishment. But this man seemed nice, although chatting with a stranger in the middle of a coffee shop would not have been Alex’s first choice of activities.

“I actually just moved here.”

“Like…just now?”

“Pretty much.”

“From where?”

“Uh, Nevis.” Upon seeing the stranger’s eager eyes Alex is comforted, and although he knows nothing about the man there is a sense of sincere security between them. There will be no judgment, unless he’s very good at hiding it. But Alex decides to take that chance; with nothing to his name and knowing not a single soul in the city, there really isn’t anything to lose. “It’s in the Caribbean-small place, but it was home.”

“And your family?”

“None that I’ll miss.”

“Wow…good for you, man. I guess that makes me your official welcome wagon, then.”

“Oh, my name’s John, by the way. I guess it’s kind of rude not to introduce myself.” He holds his hand out with a large grin plastered on his face. It is cheerful and sincere, taking up most of his features with its charismatic light. Alex accepts the handshake, as well as a relief that floods through his system in copious amounts.

“There are stranger things-like talking to random people in a coffee shop?”

“You’ve got a lot to learn about the city…”

“Alex.”

“Alex. Well, if you’re looking for something to do tonight we have a big family dinner. You could start to get to know a few people around here, make yourself at home-hey, wait. You have a place to stay?”

Alex looks away for a moment, the sudden embarrassment from the lack of a plan returning full-force. It had been enough of a task to get here from Nevis-the actual plan to stay hadn’t quite made its way to his heavy-weighted mind just yet. He shakes his head, refusing to look at the stranger-at John. He’s met with a slight chuckle and eyes that dance with a glittering mischief, teasing him.

“Well, it’s a good thing I decided to stop by this shop today, then. My mom won’t mind you staying a while-our house basically has a revolving door.”

…

John finds their usual seat by the window, head in his hands. They shake under the weight, a pure exhaustion having hit him so hard and so sudden that he can barely keep his eyes up to watch out for Alex. It’s their sophomore year-just getting into their second year of their friendship. The amount of up and downs have taken them on a ride but there they stood, side-by-side, through it all. Still friends.

Still friends.

It surprises John just how far they have come; especially since their friendship had begun in such a strange place. He’d attempted to teach Alex the ways of New York City-some methods had worked, others had failed miserably. It had taken Alex months to learn how to navigate the subway without getting sidetracked or missing his stop but only a day to learn the tax conversions in his head and pick up enough broken Spanish to navigate the craziness of the Laurens household. He’d even managed to find a job, although he hated being a dishwasher for the small diner down the street more than anything. Through it all, he’d had John. And John had been a happy, supportive friend.

The thing about being himself that he hated so much was that familiar tickle that often landed in his stomach and traveled up through his hands. It was a sensation so familiar and yet so unwelcome that he had tried to push it away, lock it and hide it until his mother had sensed what was going on. And she’d pulled him aside one day, after an argument with a sibling about something that had sent him away near tears. He hadn’t remembered how it had started, only how it had ended…with shouting and vile words he hadn’t meant to spill, causing his middle sister to start crying right as his mother walked through the door. Luckily, his mother didn’t yell. Luckily, she was one of the few parents in their community who would talk and listen to an explanation before settling for a punishment. Luckily, Ana Laurens was a mother who would accept her children no matter what.

He’d gotten lucky. Even with seven mouths to feed and only John and his older brother helping with the bills, their mother had taken Alex in. And then they’d both gone to Columbia together, already having a built-in friend. Alex had similar interests; big dreams and a drive to get him there. They’d take Columbia on together, roommates and best friends. John considered himself very lucky-if he hadn’t stopped in the shop that day…he couldn’t imagine a future without Alex Hamilton by his side.

But then, John found a great misfortune within himself. Every time he and Alex were together, there it was. His hands itched. His stomach rolled. And Alex would chuckle, re-tying his hair into a ponytail before sipping on his dark brew. He always smelled like coffee-even at night, when they’d ducked into a movie theatre to avoid the cramped space of their dorm for a few more hours. Even then, when Alex shrugged off his old leather jacket, a warm and bitter scent always came wafting through. It was comforting-secure. It made the knots in his stomach tighten upon the thought alone.

John Laurens had been gay his whole life, but never had he experienced something like this before.

He was unsure of the protocol-if there was any, at all. What he was aware of was the glaringly obvious fact that even if by the stretch of John’s vivid imagination Alex was in some way interested in men, he was in no way interested in him. It was a sense that he picked up, from the way Alex spoke to him in the same tone as Laff or Herc. There wasn’t even a single moment of discomfort, not on his end, anyway. While John found that being roommates with him had become increasingly difficult, there were no signs of discomfort from the other end. And then, he knew.

He had to tell Alex.

Which led him to the coffee shop where they’d first met-at least if by some miracle things worked out in John’s favor, it would end up being a wonderful story to tell. If not…well, he hadn’t gotten that far yet. Alex walked in with his hood over his head, shaking out unruly curls mussed by the beginnings of rainfall. He ordered his dark brew and settled in the chair next to John, slinging his backpack underneath the table. John won’t let himself look up-not yet. Instead he lets himself feel the presence of his best friend one last time. It feels like a death sentence, the way a lump has settled in his closed throat and his hands have begun to shake. But there is a confidence, stuck deep under negative emotions that have rooted themselves in the front of his mind. So he takes a long sip of his drink and sighs, opening his mouth so that everything can spill out at once.

“I don’t want to be awkward but I’m gay and I’m pretty sure-no, I’m absolutely sure that I have feelings for you.”

If there was one thing that Alexander Hamilton lacked within the power of his mind, it was the power of observation. The truth hits him with surprise, o much so that he nearly chokes on the coffee he’s been nursing. John looks back at him with already dejected eyes and Alex is barreled over with instant regret. He wishes he could be more-do more for the man that had been his friend from the beginning. Instead, he’s stuck with his tonge caught in his throat, unsure of what to say.

“It’s okay.” It’s the best he could come up with, a phrase that leaves his mouth and causes him instant regret. John nods. Alex cringes from the embarrassment at the lack of comfort in that first phrase had brought. He shakes his head.

“I mean, I wish I could say more. I wish I could say that I was gay, too, and make you happy.”

“Alex,”

“-Wait. I might not be able to say any of that, but what I can say is that this won’t affect my friendship with you. If you still want to be my friend-if I haven’t just made things too complicated-I support you. That’s what I’m trying to say.”

There’s a shift in the air between them-John can feel it in Alex’s tentative yet sincere smile, the way he refuses to look away from him although there’s still a hint of an awkward silence hanging around the pair. But within the sting of rejection there is a hope; it hurts, the way the truth he’d known comes crashing down on him. But the fact that Alexander seems to unchanged, so willing to accept him without hesitation, is enough to let a monumental sigh of relief escape his system. There is still the glaringly obvious pang in his stomach-the shiver down his spine when Alex smiles back at him. But at least he’s still there. At least Alex is still his best friend.

…

John Laurens hates Elizabeth Schuyler.

It’s been a year since he’d told Alex about his feelings. There hadn’t been many girls between then and now, just a few, far-between flings that hadn’t lasted much past the realization that Alex is very much in love with his work. It hadn’t been difficult to deal with-even when they shared a room, and John had been left to wait until the end of a date to enter his room multiple times. It was never taxing-he knew things weren’t going to work out. He was aware of that fact. In the year since Alex had let him down it had actually become easy to ignore his feelings. It was almost as if they’d gone away completely. He was relieved.

They hadn’t gone away.

The first time Alex lays eyes on Eliza is through the screen of Lafayette’s phone. He is skeptical. John had been watching the Schuyler streams for quite some time, but Alex never understood what could be so great about a bunch of senator’s daughters. Watching the change within his best friend hurt more than anything he’d felt before. The look in his eyes as Eliza sang, clear as a bell that echoed across the room-that familiar, stabbing pang found its way back to his stomach as if it hadn’t been a year since it left. And then, Alex was incessantly talking about her. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week-his life had been consumed with the thought of this girl although he didn’t even know her. It was hard, but John could manage. It wasn’t as if he knew her, anyway.

And then, they’d met her.

She greeted them all with such a warm smile, bringing cupcakes to their apartment and making herself into the perfect house guest. Alex looked at her with wide and shining eyes, and her face flushed scarlet. John leaned against the wall of the living room and tried not to watch. His hopes had come crashing down with one singular introduction. Alex was clearly as far gone as John had been with him. And then, Eliza felt the same.

The worst part of it all was that the more he spoke with Eliza-the more time she spent around their apartment-the harder it became to hate her. She was sweet as could be, doting and kind and optimistic. She brought John his favorite candy and knew when he worked late and needed company. She worked her hardest to ensure that he always had company. She listened to him when nobody else would. Yes, Elizabeth Schuyler was impossible to hate. Except she was living the life he so desperately wanted to live. She had Alex. He didn’t.

So he resented her for a while-really resented her. He’d walk away when she and Alex were both in the room. He’d feign plans while she was waiting for Alex to get out of work so he wouldn’t have to spend time with her. It wasn’t as if he didn’t like her, but the pain that came along with her relationship status was just too much to handle. It was doubly so knowing how well Eliza fit with him, in a way that John never could.

But then she’d opened up to him; after her panic attack in Starbucks things had changed. It took a while, a lot of coaxing, but John was patient and calm and treated her as a friend. She was his friend. She’d told him everything, as much as her filter would allow, and suddenly there was a light on the last speck of shadow he’d held against her. Alex was great for her. Alex was protective, and understanding…she brought out a side of him John had never seen before. He took breaks. He took care of himself. He was helping her heal.

There was only one more conversation to have.

…

He’d made sure that Alex was working-that Eliza would be the only occupant in their apartment. It was a chilly December afternoon, fresh snow from the morning cancelling classes and dropping the temperature another twenty degrees. When he knocks on the door with a bag of takeout and a bright smile she flings it open, ushering him in and immediately setting out plates. She speaks in this airy, weightless voice that carries like a bird’s song and resonates off the hardwood flooring clear as a bell.

She’s instantly cheering. He hopes it’ll make the conversation go much easier than anticipated.

John mulls over his lo mein with incredible concentration, swirling it around with his chopsticks and investigating it as if it’s not their usual meal. She notices an instant change in his demeanor. He clears his throat. His posture is stiff and unsure. He keeps his head down and his quickened pulse is practically audible. Eliza pushes her plate aside and rests her arms on the table, tipping her head in attempts to catch his eyes.

“John, what’s wrong?” He flushes, head bent in a mixture of embarrassment and worry. He’s not sure how Eliza will take this conversation; she’s good of heart, sure, but this? The thought of losing someone now so close to him weighs heavily on his conscience, but he knows this has to be done. The need has been eating him alive, taking away sleep and sanity in anticipation of this moment. He has to say something.

“I just-I’ve been thinking a lot. I know so much about you, but I’ve been kind of…guarded? I’ve been guarded around you. It’s not fair to us. I feel like this friendship has been really one-sided in that way, and it’s not fair to you.”

“Okay.” She’s using a quieted tone of voice now, barely above a whisper. It’s the hush of wind brushing against fresh grass-of snow falling silently through a dawn-lit sky. She has this innate and consuming need to nurture brought out in hand that finds its way toward his, a warmth that soothes him just enough. “Go ahead, it’s alright. I’m here to listen.”

“Alright. Okay. So,” He takes in a breath, prolonging the inevitable. “When Alex and I met, there was kind of this connection I felt with him. I really liked him. And it’s lasted a really long time.”

“Okay…”

“I mean, of course you know by now that I’m super gay…like, really gay. And Alex, he’s a really great person. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, the entire first year of our friendship. So I told him. And I mean, he’s not into men, so I kind of got over it. Almost. But I kind of hated you when we first met.”

“Oh.” She draws back a bit; pulls her hand away from his, mirroring his downward gaze. John is immediately wracked with guilt for causing such a pain, pedaling back through his words in a panic.

“I don’t hate you anymore-really, I don’t. That was completely unjustified, and I just-I couldn’t. You’re actually one of my closest friends now.”

Eliza rolls her shoulders, nodding, considering his words. Silence lingers in the apartment. John picks at his food with his chopsticks, his mind racing in a silent prayer for his friendship. Finally Eliza lifts her head, eyes searching his with a curiosity laced with understanding. Still, there is not an angry, or upset, or offended piece about her.

“Well, I’m glad you don’t hate me anymore.”

“Eliza,”

“No, I mean it. I’m glad we’re friends. I just…I wish you had told me sooner.”

“Does it change things?”

“No, god no! It only changes how I’ll talk to you-god, I feel like such a jerk. How many days have I spent telling you how much I love Alexander, and how good he is to me? I can’t even imagine-why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just didn’t want to wreck things. And trust me, those feelings?” He laughs, shaking his head and lifting a hand to wave her off. “They’re pretty much gone. The amount that kid works? The amount of time he spends talking? I don’t know how you do it, E. I was his roommate for 3 years and I still don’t know how I survived.”

Her laughter is more than just a typical bell-tone, then. To John, it is a hallelujah call. The serenity that crosses his features then consumes him, and he laughs along with her. Then she’s holding her hand over her mouth, choking through that mirth before sipping her drink.

“I could tell you stories, John. I love him but my god you’re right. There’s this thing that he does when he’s stressed, and,”

She’s cut off by the sound of the door slamming against the wall. A snow-dusted Alex stands in the doorway, shaking precipitation from his hair and kicking his shoes off at the door in haste. They hit the wall in two resounding thuds and he pulls a chair from the table, nearly knocking their food over in response.

“Can you believe this?” His higher tone comes out somewhere between a shout and a cracking nerve, and he turns his phone so that they both can read what’s on the screen.

STRAYING SCHUYLER: THE TRUTH ABOUT AMERICA’S SO-CALLED SWEETHEART

He never expected things to turn south so quickly. Social media star and hopeful politician James Reynolds opened up to US in an exclusive interview at a local rooftop bar over the weekend, where he dished on all things Jeliza. “It was hard for me to keep her attention,” he says about now ex-girlfriend Elizabeth Schuyler. “She was always really flighty-always looking for another fling to keep entertained.” The two ended their eight month relationship abruptly last March, sources stating that Reynolds is “still deeply upset” and “wanting Eliza back more than anything.” Now, Reynolds spends his time reflecting.

It isn’t hard to see why the Sentator’s middle daughter is so desirable-with her bright eyes and soft smile, she’s dazzled America since her first magazine appearance at the young age of eleven. Now, she’s on the covers of People, Entertainment Weekly, and has graced our own front cover 6 times.

It’s hard to see her now, a source close to Reynold’s divulges. “She has been in so many pictures with so many men lately, it’s made him very distraught.” Pictured above are two of the men in question. Alex, her new beau, had been first referred to as Mystery Man by fans and sceptics alike. Now, the two are spotted in public nearly every day. But there’s another man on the scene-a nameless ‘hispanic hunk’ who’s taken to holding Schuyler’s arm on a walk through the city nearly as often as Alex.

The rumors may be true-if the continued series of photographs are any clue to the key of Jeliza’s breakup, we’re ruling with Reynolds on this one. America’s sweetheart may just be America’s serial dater. The verdict from Reynolds? “He still wants her back-he’d forgive her, even for everything she’s done.” Looks like there’s more to this story than meets the eye.

#I love John Laurens #like is this about to be the tags #saying i love them then destroying their lives #mine: swts #hamliza #hamilton au #but I really do love John #and eliza #she'll always be my favoritee

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