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slipstreamborne · 6 years

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Clearer with Distance (2014 fic)

rating: G summary: Donatello is almost eight before they finally find a pair of glasses with his correct prescription. Before that, the severely farsighted turtle just has to make do. His brothers do what they can to help out, even if it means reading all his boring stereo instructions to him for the millionth time. notes: 2k fluffy turtle tot fic with just a touch of angst. read at ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15006035

The box is slick underneath Donnie’s fingers, glossy cardboard unwarped by water, the corners crisp and unworn. New, or at least freshly thrown out, which for a mutated turtle scavenging the sewers of New York is basically the same thing.

His chest swells with excitement, expert fingers feeling at the seams until he finds the opening flap. The box is bulky but light—a promising combination—and rattles faintly when shaken. Definitely some twist ties loose in there. He gropes greedily inside, worming his skinny arm in between the broken pieces of protective Styrofoam until his fist closes on his prize: a thin paper booklet with staples along the binding.

“Oh no,” groans Mikey, somewhere off to his left. “He found another one.”

“Not it,” says Raph automatically; a mistake, because he’s close enough that Donnie can pinpoint him by sound even if he has trouble picking his blurred form out from the rest of the garbage heap.

“Raph!” He thrusts the little pamphlet towards what he guesses is his brother’s nose. “What’s this say?”

Shadows of hands shove him back, not hard enough to knock him over, though. “I dunno, genius. It’s dark.”

“Not that dark.” A greasy yellow glow fills the far end of the tunnel, casting crisp shadows against the brick. The light’s softer here, the edges of things increasingly smeared the closer he gets to them, but it’s bright enough that Donnie barely has to use his flashlight. It’s easier for him to spot the gleam of a potentially interesting object than sort through every washed up boot and rusted can by hand. Safer, too, as the still-thumping cut bisecting his left palm can attest. At least it’s finally crusted over and stopped oozing. “C’mon, read it for me.”

“I ain’t gonna!”

“Read it read it read it read it—”

“Hush.”

Dad doesn’t shout. Dad hardly ever has to shout, and never twice. Not so close to topside, anyway. Donnie’s mouth clamps shut obediently.

“This is not the place. Raphael will read to you when we get home, Donatello.”

Raph whines (“Daaaad, I read the last one!”), but his father holds firm, setting him back to the day’s scavenging with a single clipped command. Reassured that he’s not the one to have been assigned to the task, the soft, mostly-blue shape of Leo finally pops into view, a smear of white slashing crookedly across where his mouth should be.

“Over here,” he says, taking Donnie by the hand (something Donnie hates, but on unfamiliar territory has no grounds to object to). “Found a bunch of onions. Help me pick out the rotten ones.”

Everybody has their place within the family. If you need somebody to boost you into a high pipe or check in the shadows for monsters (Raph says that the towering white figures from his dreams with needles for fingers aren’t real, but Donnie’s not so sure), you get Dad. If you need somebody to tell you all the rules for Yu-Gi-Oh or tattle on you when you wander too far into the dark, you get Leo. Mikey’s great at farting at the dinner table and whining until you feel sorry for him when he loses a game that he made up the rules to, while it’s Raph’s job to not share when you want a turn at shooting baskets and snuggle up tight against you under the blankets when winter blows ice cold through the Lair.

Donnie’s got strong, nimble fingers and can recite long passages of Harry Potter from memory, even does a pretty good job of mimicking the voices that Dad uses, but when Leo finds a coverless copy of The Order of the Phoenix—their one missing title in the series—nobody asks him take over when Dad gets too tired to do another chapter.

It’s not that Donatello doesn’t know how to read. Dad taught him his alphabet same as his brothers, one warm hand at his elbow as he guided Donnie’s finger through the thick, ever-gathering dust of the fan room floor, tracing out the shape of each letter over and over until Donnie had every stroke memorized.

If he writes large enough, going back over each word twice with the long side of their few precious pieces of grubby sidewalk chalk until the pastel lines stand out bold against the dark concrete floors, Donnie can make out whole words. Kanji is harder, crucial, tiny strokes lost amidst the overall shape of the character, but Dad has a long scroll of poetry in oversized calligraphy hanging above his sleeping mat that Donnie has had memorized since he was three:

A lovely thing to see: through the paper window's hole, the Galaxy.

For reasons he can’t yet explain, he has no trouble at all reading the oversized text of the bulletin boards he occasionally glimpses through narrow storm drains, hungry eyes devouring every line of copy even if he lacks the context needed to appreciate the appeal of things like “semi-annual sales” and “now in theaters”.

He has never seen a star, much less a galaxy, but after some careful questioning, he doesn’t think Leo or Raph or Mikey have seen one, either.

The bigger something is, the further it is away, the easier it is for Donnie to understand.

The problem is that the things that interest him, that confound him and make him burn for more, are close and very, very small.

He gets so frustrated. So angry. It’s there, it’s right there, but he can’t—

“Please.” He shoves the stack of books into his brother’s hands. “Please please pleeeeease...!”

“Fine,” Leo sighs, even though they both know that technically, it’s Raph’s turn again. “Fine.”

There’s an old beanbag chair that Dad sewed up that’s almost big enough for two. Leo tucks his feet under him primly while Donnie wedges himself firmly against his side, long legs braced against a crack in the concrete to keep them from toppling over.

“I’m not reading you Advanced Wiring again, I know you’ve got that one memorized.” He tosses the battered book to the side with a thump. “So which’ll it be? Heating and Plumbing or Decks, Porches, and Patios?”

“Decks.” The meager collection of Time Life Home Repair and Improvement books is one of his most prized possessions. Heating and Plumbing is his second favorite, but Leo’s terrible at describing all of the diagrams. “The part about load-bearing footings.”

The book smells comfortingly of mildew when Leo cracks it open. He’s smaller than Donnie by almost half a foot, his head wobbling precariously on a neck barely bigger than Raph’s wrist, but he has a nice voice, smooth and even with an extra puff of breath behind the t sounds that Donnie finds himself echoing for hours afterwards.

“Where do you want me to start? Concrete forms or how to determine the frost line?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He hasn’t told Leo that he’s actually memorized that one, too. All of them, to be honest. It’s just that sometimes he needs something, anything, to help his brain go quiet. “Frost lines.”

Leo flips to the appropriate page, squirms until his shell is nestled more comfortably in the folds of the beanbag, and starts to read. Donnie digs his sharp chin into the hollow of his brother’s shoulder, closes his eyes, and listens.

Mikey is the best at it, despite being the least interested in schoolwork of any of them. Maybe it’s because of his blasé acceptance of his own academic shortcomings. Where Leo huffs and repeats things over and over, trying to get it perfect, and Raph storms off with a growl at the first barrier he can’t punch his way through, Mikey plunges right along unrattled no how many bumps he hits, accepting any corrections to his pronunciation with a casual shrug.

Even when the manual turns out to be written in French.

“En-lev-ez le...’ The heck is this word, bro? One of the letters is wearing a hat. ‘Buh... Booty-er?’”

“Spell it if you can’t sound it out.”

“B-O-I with a pointed hat-T-I-E-R.”

Donnie frowns, fingers retracing his steps across the condensation pump, trying to figure out which piece is most likely supposed to come off next. “I think that’s the cover for the fan.” He gives the fan enclosure an experimental pull, then a twist, then a harder, more determined pull, but it doesn’t budge. He runs his fingers around its rim, looking for the telltale round bump of a screwheads, but finds nothing. “Uh, is there a tab I’m supposed to press to make it pop off or...?”

“Maybe?” A rustle of paper as Mikey folds the directions back to look at the diagram. “Are you sure these are the right instructions for this pump? It doesn’t quite look like the drawing. That fan cover piece is a completely different shape.”

Donnie’s stomach does an anxious somersault. And he’d been so excited to find something thrown away in its original box. “I mean, a pump’s a pump, right? How different can they be?”

Half an hour later, Donnie’s managed to remove the fan cover, but not without a sickening crack of plastic and a muffled swear from his brother that tells him he broke something. Hopefully it wasn’t anything crucial. He’ll have to run some tests after he’s finished cleaning it and putting it back together, but since the pump wasn’t working in the first place it will be hard to—

The main hatch creeks open, then closed again. “Tadaima!” call two voices. Leo’s voice cracks on the last syllable, and Dad sounds tired, but pleased.

“Okaeri!” Donnie and Mikey call together, Raph chiming in faintly from the other side of the Lair. Donnie sniffs the air. Beneath the gust of sewer smell is the unmistakable odor of wet fur and back alley dumpster he’s come to associate with food.

He puts down the tools to help Dad and Leo bring in the last of the groceries—bags and bags of iceberg lettuce with browned outer leaves (his mouth waters, knowing the cool, wet crunch awaiting inside), and a box of short pull tab cans that could be either tuna or cat food. Mikey makes a pleased little chirrup as he passes him the cans, which means it’s probably the latter. Fancy Feast is his favorite.

The chore is quickly finished with five sets of hands. Leo keeps bumping into him, thin limbs still quivering with the excitement of getting to go topside. Donnie tucks his own arms close and starts edging out of the kitchen and back towards his corner of dissembled stereos, suddenly not a excited about the prospect of lettuce heart supper. He’s never been above ground. It’s too dangerous with his limited eyesight.

“Ah, Donatello. A moment more, my son. I have a gift for you.”

A large, grey-brown shape crouches before him and presses a closed cardboard box into his hands. Too large for a clock radio, too small to be a VHS player, but mostly empty either way.

“You got Donnie an iron?!” asks Mikey incredulously, crowding close on his left.

Raph huffs dismissively, but presses in close to his right. “It’s just the box, dummy.”

“Go on,” Leo says, fidgeting anxiously from one foot to another. He’s too close for Donnie to make out his expression, but his tone suggests that there’s a surprise that he’s in on, or maybe some sort of joke. “Open it.”

Something heavier than an owner’s manual is rattling around inside. Batteries, maybe, or an overlooked set of cables. Dad couldn’t have been lucky enough to find him a discarded remote.

His family looms over him expectantly as he opens the box and reaches inside. The shape of the object is bizarre: two thick, curved circles, each attached to a long, hinged piece of plastic.

Glasses. His heart sinks. He’s lost track of how many pairs he’s tried, over the years. His thumbs swipe idly across the lenses, noting with dull surprise how thick they are, the pronounced outward curve at their center.

“Try ‘em on!” Leo grabs at his wrists, pushing the glasses up towards his face. “Try ‘em, try ‘em!”

There’s a break in the bridge of the nose, he realizes as he unfolds them. Somebody’s tried to fix them with tape but not done a very good job of it. The glasses bend alarmingly as he slips them over his beak, one lens slipping down his cheek as he struggles to hold the other in place. He looks up.

The world looks very, very strange. On his left, Mikey’s familiar smudged shadows. On his right, a stranger in a red bandana peers at him through narrowed eyes, each pale green scale of his face glimmering faintly gold under the bare kitchen light bulb. In front of him, two more strangers, one skinny and green, fading back and forth into Leo's blurred shape as he bounces excitedly, the other tall and dark and covered in a thousand, million lines, each strand of drying fur casting its own shadow, blue robe speckled with tiny white and yellow stars, the pointed, black-eyed face haloed in a bristle of long, white whiskers.

He gapes, speechless.

For the first time in his life, Donatello sees his father smile.

#tmnt #tmnt 2014 #donatello #splinter #michelangelo #raphael #leonardo #stuff i wrote #turtle tots

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my-dear-hammy · 7 years

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Heads or Tails

Masterpost

Chapter Twenty-One: Call it in the Air

Warnings: Arguing (obviously), drinking

----

The wine glass slipped from Lafayette's hand and shattered on the ground, staining the floor red, much too similar to a blood stain for his taste. He was frozen, taking in the appearance of the one he loved. Tousled hair like he'd been running, wind-blown clothes, baggy eyes as if he hadn't slept for ages. He was still wearing the green suit. He hadn't changed one bit. Lafayette's heart thudded painfully.

Hamilton had come with the intention to deck the guy in the face but once his eyes landed on him, he couldn't seem to. He just looked so...empty. His hair was pulled back into a messy bun, at this point, messy couldn't even describe it seeing as it was lopsided and one breeze away from falling out. His normal upright and proud posture was slouched, skin dull instead of soft and glowing. His clothes were torn and stained red from blood, or maybe wine, as if he just got back from dealing with a mob. There was a long cut down his cheekbone and his eyes were lifeless and sunken in as if the last time he got more than an hour nap was three months ago. He just looked tired to the bone.

His entire expression was one of shock. Lafayette didn't move, he just stared at Hamilton blankly like he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing was real. So Hamilton stood on the doorstep awkwardly, his plan of tackling and punching him thrown out the window.

"Lafayette?" No response. "Jefferson?" Nothing. Hamilton reached forward and poked him.

Lafayette blinked. "Alexander? What are you doing here? How did you find me?"

"You're literally the most famous person in France, everyone knows your address and I speak fluently. All I had to do was ask."

"You need to leave."

"What? No."

"It's not a suggestion. You have to."

Hamilton scoffed, "No I don't." He shoved past Lafayette and stepped inside. Lafayette looked both ways down the street before shutting the door.

"Alexander-"

Hamilton turned to face him, crossing his arms. "I'm not leaving. I just carted my happy ass all the from New York, down to Monticello and across the Atlantic Ocean. I'm not going anywhere and the least you can do I offer me a drink."

Lafayette stared at him for a moment before cleaning up the broken glass and wine and going to retrieve a couple more glasses and at least five more bottles. He was going to need them. Hamilton waited for him on the couch of the living room while Lafayette was in the kitchen. He popped the cork and poured Hamilton a glass and chugged the rest of the bottle and filled his own glass from a new bottle before walking back out, the new bottle in hand for refills. Handing Hamilton his glass, Lafayette sat as far away from him as he could, staring at the fire.

"Lafa-er-Jefferson." Fuck, Hamilton had no idea which name to use.

"Just pick one. Though since we're in France and I very much like my head, I'd suggest Lafayette."

"Right."

Lafayette drank deeply so Hamilton took a sip, watching the Frenchman stare at the fire. After a moment, Lafayette finally spoke. "You need to leave."

"Why are you so intent on me leaving?" Hamilton asked angrily.

Lafayette turned to looked at him, "Because one slip up and I lose my head. If anyone finds out I live a double life, I won't have one anymore and your presence risks that. As Lafayette, I can keep this revolution from getting anymore bloody. But there's risk to it and if you're here, you're at risk too."

"That's a bunch of shit. Just come back home."

"The people need me here, Alexander."

"The crowds may love you now but the crowds always turn and they'll turn on you."

Lafayette looked back at the fire. "Why are you here?"

"For an explanation."

Lafayette stood up, drained what was now his third glass and set it down. "I'm going to go change," he declared, but a knock at the door interrupted that action. "Evidently, I'm answering the door instead."

Lafayette swung to door open, "Lafayette! I brought a bottle of wine and a couple of the books I borrowed."

"James, I apologize for my appearance, I just returned home. Make yourself comfortable and allow me to change into something cleaner," Lafayette said, adopting a happier tone.

Monroe smiled at him, "Of course," and made for the living room as Lafayette bounded up the stairs and halted in his tracks. "Hamilton?"

"Monroe?"

"What are you doing here?"

"What're you doing here?"

"I'm the ambassador to France, Lafayette is my good friend, a war buddy, and one of the most powerful people here. It's only natural I stop by every chance I get. But you had to cross an ocean. Why?"

"Lafayette is a good friend of mine as well. I decided it was time to visit."

"You're the treasurer. You don't have that kind of time."

"I made some."

Monroe shook his head, setting down the books and the bottle, fetching himself a glass and sitting down across from Hamilton. "It doesn't matter, you have to help me cheer him up."

"What?"

"He may act perky and carefree, but you did take in his appearance, right? I'm worried about him."

"Of course I noticed, I-" Hamilton cut himself off.

"I think a night like that one we had ages ago, during the war, with Laurens, if we have a night like that he might cheer up."

"I don't think that's possible."

"Why not?"

"Laurens isn't here."

"As close as possible."

"Monroe-"

Lafayette came bounding back down the stairs. His clothes were clean, his hair was fixed, his skin seemed a little better, but his eyes still didn't gleam and the cut remained. He glanced between the two and their postures. "Both of you know."

Monroe and Hamilton whipped their heads around, and said simultaneously, "You know?"

Lafayette chuckled and poured himself a new glass of wine before settling in his chair. "James, I'm so glad you could join us. Yes, let's see, Alexander, James found out I was also Jefferson late one night when he rudely went through my letters. James, Alexander discovered when I ratted myself out in front of the entire presidential cabinet while arguing to aid the French and then fled here."

"You could've just told me personally you know, I would've und-"

"No, Alexander, whether you would understand or not wasn't the point."

"Then what was the point? Why lie to me?" Hamilton asked.

Lafayette sighed, "Let's not discuss this on such a fine night and alienate our dear friend, James."

Monroe glanced between them. "You two have some serious couple issues to work out."

"What?!" Hamilton asked, turning red. "We're not-that's not-"

"Oh relax, Alexander," Lafayette said, taking another drink, "James doesn't care. Besides, this is France. People don't really care as much."

"You two have been flirting ever since the war, do you really think that I wouldn't piece it together?" Monroe asked. "So, here's how this is going to play out," Monroe began, setting down his glass, "I'm going to put this down and leave. When I'm gone, Lafayette, you're going to apologize for not being entirely truthful. Hamilton, you are going to listen without interrupting and not punch him in the face. When that's done, Lafayette, you're going to ask for forgiveness, Hamilton, you'll accept, you'll drink this bottle happily together, go to sleep because you need rest, and then in the morning, you're both going back to America to live out your lives together." Monroe met both their gazes. "Don't say a word of protest. That's not optional. Now, work it out, I want to see smiles in the morning, goodnight," Monroe said as he closed the door behind him.

Lafayette and Hamilton looked at each other. This was going to be a long night. Awkward silence descended.

"Alexander," Lafayette began, "I'm sorry. I never meant to fall in love with you and when I did, I knew I couldn't be with you because there was the extreme possibility of me disappearing. Entirely. Because I'd have to erase this life and return as Jefferson."

Hamilton remembered every argument Lafayette had made against him.

Don't you want this?

This won't end well.

~~~

Last night was a mistake. I shouldn't have done that with you. Anybody but you darlin'.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? And quit calling me darlin it's weird and freaking me out.

I'm sorry.

~~~

You're the one who stomped out.

I had good reason too.

Laurens being in love with me is not a good reason. Especially since it turned out like this.

I'm truly sorry but my reasons are justified. That night never should have happened.

~~~

Alexander, this is a really bad idea.

Not this shit again.

You don't understand.

I understand plenty.

You don't know who I am.

You're the Marquis de La Fayette. I know exactly who you are.

Non. Not like this.

Do you want me?

More than anything.

Then I don't see what the problem is.

What about Laurens?

Will you stop about Laurens? He's married now.

Alexander, someday I'm going to have to go back to France and I might not get to come back. Sea travel is unpredictable. What if I just disappear? I can't do that to you.

So we make the most of now.

Don't you get it? I can't because I love you too much. If you knew, you'd hate me and I can't handle seeing that.

Goodbye, Alexander.

"You didn't want to be with me as someone else," Hamilton said slowly, realization dawning.

"Yes and no. I am Lafayette. I am Jefferson. At first, that was one of the reasons, I kept them separated as two people in my head because I didn't want to be one of them. When I met you, I wanted to be with you as me and not an alias. It was much later when I came to terms with the fact that it doesn't matter what name I call myself, both of them are me, just with a different back story."

"Why didn't you tell me when you came back as Jefferson? Don't know how long I wait for you?"

"Oui. Just as long as I waited for you. But I couldn't tell you. I didn't want to be Lafayette anymore. He wasn't me. I didn't want you to be with him. But mostly, I couldn't risk being discovered. If anyone knew, I'd be hanged. And now I can never go back to America for just that reason."

"Bullshit. Washington loves you like a son. Everyone in the cabinet owes their lives to you. They'll keep their mouths shut, they have so far."

"Alexander-"

"I just can't wrap my head around the fact that you didn't trust me enough to tell me."

"How could I? You barely seemed interested in anything other than sex. You never once told me you loved me much less a kind word."

It was true. Hamilton never gave him much reason to trust him. "You kept pushing me away."

"What was I supposed to do? Have sex with you every night and regret it every time because of the wrong I was doing? The deceit?"

"You shouldn't have deceived me in the first place!"

"I know!" Lafayette yelled, shooting to his feet, frustrated, running his hand through his hair. "I know," he said quieter. "Don't you think I knew that? Every day it was, Lafayette, you're a terrible person, how could you do this to him? To all your friends? What're they going to think when you disappear? Jefferson, why do you have to be such a screw up? Can't you see everything you're doing is just going to cause more pain in the long run? God, why can't you just do something right for once?" He collapsed back down into the couch. "I loved you, Alexander. I still do. And nothing will ever make up for what I did."

Hamilton set down his wine glass, stood and took Lafayette's hands in his, pulling the man to his feet. "What're you doing?"

Hamilton started pulling him upstairs. When he hit the platform of the next floor, he asked, "Where's your bedroom?"

"Alexander, I'm not having sex with you."

"Don't be stupid. You need to go to bed. Get some sleep. Where is it?"

"Down the hall, second door on the right."

Hamilton pulled him forward and pushed the door open and pulling him into the room before letting go. The dresser was his current target, sifting through the drawers until he found the comfiest pajamas he could find and throwing them to Lafayette. "Change. Also, I'm stealing a pair as well. I didn't exactly pack anything." Hamilton grabbed a pair for himself and changed. By the time he turned around, Lafayette was already in his pajamas and watching Hamilton suspiciously.

Hamilton pushed him into bed, making sure he was under the covers before climbing in as well, praying he wasn't overstepping his boundaries, and curled around him, holding him tight. "I love you. I don't care what you call yourself, I love you." Lafayette seemed to finally relax a bit. "Now go the fuck to sleep or I will deprive you of oxygen until you pass out."

Lafayette chuckled slightly. He honestly hadn't had any real sleep in weeks, so when he hit the soft bed, combined his Hamilton's warmth and soothing words, Lafayette practically passed out, no oxygen deprivation necessary.

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haydenstudiesblog-blog · 7 years

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Pretending I was tagged by @dancingstudyblr because this is such a cute idea!

~Do you prefer writing with black or blue pen? Black

~Would you prefer to live in the country or the city? I’ve lived in the country my whole life, but something tells me I may be a city girl at heart.

~If you could learn a new skill, what would it be? Probably learn a new language successfully and fluently.

~Do you drink your tea or coffee with sugar? Mountain Dew HAHA I don’t like either, but I do like hot chocolate?

~What was your favourite book as a child? The Giving Tree

~Do you prefer baths or showers? Showers, BUT baths if I was already clean and had a nice tub :)

~If you could be a mythical creature, which would you choose? Mermaid

~Do you prefer reading paper or electronic books? Paper

~What is your favourite item of clothing? I love big comfy sweaters, but especially this one I just got from Charlotte Russe with cut-out shoulders. I posted it on here actually the other day.

~Do you like your name? Would you ever change it? I’ve always hated my name because everyone thinks I mean to say “Haley” or something. But I would never realistically change it because I feel like it’s mine and no one ever has the same name as me which makes me more memorable! [short story: I met Wayne Coyne and he actually told me he’s never met anyone with the name “Hayden” and he thought it was cool]

~Who is a mentor to you? I guess I don’t really have one. Unless you consider TV show characters. Then probably Monica Geller/Bing, Rachel Greene, and Phoebe Buffay haha

~Would you ever want to be famous? If so, what for? YES I want to be famous for my writing. Actually wanted to be a singer when I was little though [I was obsessed with Hannah Montana okay]

~Are you a restless sleeper? Depends, sometimes yes sometimes no. More often than not yes, unfortunately.

~Do you consider yourself a romantic? Yes

~Which element best represents you? Water. Partly because I’m a Pisces so I just kind of think it works for me. But I also don’t enjoy going swimming that much ironically, I’m more of a lay-by-the-pool-with-a-paperback girl.

~Who do you want to be closer to? Some of the friends I met this last year, they’re friends with my boyfriend and we go to different schools. It’s the school I’d like to transfer to though so maybe that can happen someday.

~Do you miss someone at the moment? My boyfriend just because I know I have to leave for a week and a half in a few days and won’t see him. Also some family members who have passed away in the past, I always miss them but I know they’re always here [because my house is actually haunted not kidding around I have proof]

~What is the strangest thing you have eaten? I sometimes (if I get desperate) like to dip a cosmic brownie into French onion dip and it’s really good

~What can you see outside your bedroom window? Nothing but trees and slivers of sky in between sometimes.

~What are you most thankful for? My mom, she took care of me when I was sick and never left my side. She’s my hero. But also my dad for the same reason, I just wouldn’t let him do much because I have boundaries [I couldn’t even get out of the hospital bed by myself so I’ll just let you think about what all I needed help with]

~Do you like spicy food? Nope

~Have you ever met someone famous? Yes, Wayne Coyne. And when I was little I saw Hannah Montana in concert and Miley Cyrus waved at us from her bus as we were walking back to our car. SO COOL.

~Do you keep a diary or journal? I used to keep a diary in middle school. Lately I’ve started keeping a notebook of letters to my boyfriend. I treat it as if I’m telling him about my day or just things that are on my mind and when I’m at school I try to write in it daily so eventually I can fill it up and give it to him.

~Do you prefer to use pen or pencil? Pen, but if it’s a nice pencil that works too.

~What is your star sign? Pisces

~Do you like your cereal crunchy or soggy? A combination. I like having the crunchy cereal on top but I don’t mind when it starts to get soggy, I just mix them together in each bite and it’s so good. Plus then the milk starts to taste fruity [I only eat Fruity Pebbles]

~What would you want your legacy to be? I would like people to remember me as kind and compassionate but also an amazing author.

~Do you like reading? What was the last thing you read? Reading is my favorite pastime. The last thing I read was The Hobbit which I’m not quite done with. Then I’m moving on to the Lord of the Rings, then the Game of Thrones series [I know that’s not what it’s really called but I can’t remember what the real name is I’m sorry]

~Do you like ice in your drinks? I do!

~What are you afraid of? The dark, failure, rejection, embarrassment.

~What is your favourite scent? I love the smell of my Marc Jacobs Daisy perfume, I love the smell of Spearmint and freshly cut grass but also old books. I like to crack them open and shove my nose in them.

~Do you address older people by their first or last name? First name

~If money was not a factor, how would you live your life? Happily, with my family nearby but also in my dream home with all the dogs in the world.

~Do you prefer swimming in pools or in the ocean? I don’t enjoy swimming very much but I’d choose pools if I had to choose. BUT I prefer being around the beach by clear water.

~What would you do if you found $50 on the ground? I’m a horrible person because I’d keep it and probably use it as an excuse to go buy a bunch of books at a consignment store.

~Have you ever seen a shooting star? Did you make a wish? No, but I always make wishes on 11:11

~If you had to have a tattoo, what would it be and where would you get it? I want to get “expecto patronum” with a tiny wand underneath it with some blue magic coming out with three tiny bird silhouettes in it to represent my loved ones who have passed [because “expecto patronum” is supposed to mean “I await a guardian”] and I’d get it on my rib/underboob area. PLEASE DON’T STEAL MY IDEA

~What can you hear right now? Ink Master people arguing over stupid shit.

~Where do you feel the safest? At home, in my boyfriend’s arms, in my room.

~What is one thing you want to overcome/conquer? My fear of needles, my fear of the dark (it’s inconvenient), my education [I want to conquer it and destroy it and nail it and run off and do my future how I want] and also my social awkwardness

~If you could travel back to any era, which would you choose? I love the Victorian age or the 50’s, also the 70′s.

~What is your most used emoji? The basic heart

~How would you spend your ideal day? Go to the spa and get a massage so I’m all relaxed, so my full skincare routine, then lay in my bed with clean sheets and freshly shaven legs and read a good book.

~Describe yourself using one word. Addict [context: I have an addictive personality]

~What do you regret the most? Not studying enough in school and allowing my depression and anxiety to impact my grades my first year of college in a very negative way. It caused me to fall behind. I also regret a past relationship I had which wasn’t even a real relationship.

#haydenstudiesblog #studyblr #get to know me tag?

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mintypothos · 7 years

Text

@softlams please enjoy this fic! You mentioned having a bad mental health week, and I feel that on a deep level so I thought I’d try to write you something. It probably won’t do much, but I hope it makes you a bit happy to read!

It’s laflams, because I know you’ve written it (your vampire fic was very good, also very painful) but I don’t see it around too much. It’s also probably too long. Please enjoy anyways! It’s not proofread either, sorry, I just kind of started writing to see where it got me.

Alexander's forearms were clear, devoid of any blemishes or markings. For the life of him, Alexander couldn't pin down the moment he realized that meant something.

Maybe it was the way his mother would stare at him, when she thought he wasn't looking. Or maybe it was the way she would kiss him on the cheek and call him perfect when his father caught a glance of bare arms and muttered something about Freshies. Of course, by the time he was young enough to be playing outside, he already knew to wear long sleeves or arm wraps.

The other kids at his hometown had crisp lines of varying colours- bright and beautiful. Some only had a handful, enough to easily count. Some had scores upon scores, lighting up the underside of their arms with shimmery rainbows. One kid only had six lines, and everyone kept pretending they were stupid. Alexander decided to keep his blank arms to himself.

Between the hurricane, his Dad leaving, and his Mom dying, Alexander didn't have time to think much of it. Then, Child Services shipped him up to the states because a 'family friend' Alexander had never heard about before had apparently been given his custody rights in the will.

The Child Services worker had a kind smile. Alexander didn't trust it.

“So, are you excited to see America?” the worker spoke in a light, almost baby-voice tone, even though Alexander was twelve.

Alexander shrugged. “I guess.” He fiddled with the straw of the juice box he'd been given. Apple was a good flavour, but he wanted to save it. The window of the plane still showed nothing but clouds, but Alexander kept staring out anyways.

“Well,” the worker cleared her throat. “I think it's very brave of you to go this far. You are being so good! And just think of all the things you'll be able to experience for the first time!”

If he craned his neck enough, Alexander could see the edge of the plane's wing out the back corner of the window. It was creamy white, like the cloudy background, but it was something different to look at.

It was quiet for another moment. Then, “It's okay that you're nervous, though. These things can be frightening, even for weathered souls.”

Alexander stiffened with discomfort, but didn't say anything.

America was weird, Alexander decided. George Washington was kind, but not patronizing like the worker. It was suspicious.

“So, you like writing?” George asked, raising a brow at the notebook Alexander was scribbling in. He wasn't even writing anything particular. Letters to a hypothetical person, because he didn't have friends but he needed to talk. Alexander didn't bother answering the obvious question.

George hummed, as if that was answer enough. Maybe it was. “What do you think about penpals? I know it's a little old fashioned, but I had great fun with it when I was young.”

Alexander stopped writing.

“You can speak and write in French, right?” It was probably in whatever notes or information George had been given before Alexander was foisted off on him. Still, Alexander nodded, unable to help a spark of curiosity. “Okay, good, because I know a boy just a couple of years older than you who wants to improve his English. He's from France.”

Alexander's eyes snapped up for the first time, meeting George's somewhat surprised face. “What's his name?”

If George was surprised at finally being addressed, he didn't show it. Instead, he smile with indulgence. “Gilbert du Motier, but he usually goes by Gil. He's very enthusiastic, I think you'll get along.”

“Enthusiastic about what?” The question slipped from Alexander's lips without him even thinking about it.

“Everything, really,” George chuckled, glancing away as if remembering something.

“Like?” Alexander demanded, stuffing his notepad back in his pocket. “Does he like writing too? And reading? What about math?!”

It took Alexander a moment to realize he was almost shouting, hands leaning on the table, something close to excitement swimming in his chest. George grinned. “Why don't you send him a letter and find out?”

“I will!” Alexander insisted. And then, he did.

The basic, cautious questions only lasted a few letters. Enthusiastic was an understatement, and Alexander loved it. Gilbert was interested in everything, excited to hear anything. In the interests of fairness, half the letters would be in French, and half in English. Alexander liked alternating the paragraphs, especially since George didn't know French at all and it was like a secret message.

Not that George snooped on the letters in the first place, but Alexander liked the feeling.

Alexander, it's simply ridiculous, what people keep saying. As if we weren't all New Souls once upon a time!

The rant was unexpected, even after a whole year of letters sent back and forth. Alexander had never told Gilbert about that.

I hate it. My cousin Adrienne is a New Soul, and everyone just calls her freshie and treats her like she doesn't know anything. Do they all remember things from their past lives that I can't? I have 192 marks, which is the most of anyone I know, and I don't feel any wiser. Adri is a lot smarter than me.

Hesitantly, because Alexander had never admitted it voluntarily, he answered.

I don't have any marks either and I'm at the top of my class. My birth dad used to say it was about common sense, because people who've lived more lives have better instincts.

Yeah, well, your birth dad is stupid. Science says everyone's brains are new brains, and that's where all the thinking and common sense and instincts happen. If your soul gets wiser with reincarnations, maybe you can only tell once you hit the afterlife.

It wasn't anything Alexander hadn't reasoned already. However, hearing the same thing from his best friend sent a warm feeling from the depths of his stomach, all the way up through his chest and out the unwitting smile he couldn't hope to get rid of.

Eventually, Alexander did make other friends. It was hard, since he really only had two social settings: the silent kid who barely acknowledged the rest of the class, or the argumentative kid who talked a mile a minute.

Hercules was the one friend that understood both. He had no problem encouraging Alexander's louder moods, and was equally happy to chat aimlessly while Alexander took a quiet moment. He was also taller and wider than Alexander, and none of the bullies ever bothered approaching when Herc was around.

“Hey, I think it's cool you keep your arms wrapped,” Hercules said one day during recess, after trading Alexander his fruit cup for a cheese string. “Everyone always wants to compare, it's so annoying.”

Alexander shrugged. “It doesn't mean anything. Maybe once they figure out why we get marks in the first place, then I'll care.”

“Yeah, that's fair. It sucks sometimes, though. I only have thirteen. But maybe it's not that I'm newer, just that it took longer to reincarnate. What do you think?” Hercules flipped his hands palm up. His weren't straight lines, like the kids back home. They were squiggly lines, mostly in cool tones of blue and purple. Some were a tight spring of squiggles, others a gentle wave.

“I think it shouldn't matter if you're new or not.” Alexander picked at the grass. The spring air was nice after such a crappy, cold winter.

Herc's glance was shocked as his shoulders flinched back. “You think so? My Grandma says that all the new souls lately are why the world is going to crap. Well, she used words my mom won't let me say, anways.”

The words were icy cold, even though Herc didn't know any better. He was just repeated something he'd heard. But it was wrong. Alexander stood up abruptly, spilling the remainder of his lunch on the grass. “Your grandma's wrong!” It came out far louder and far harsher than Alexander meant.

“What?” Hercules frowned, something strange in his expression. “How do you know?” His brows creased, volume raising a bit in turn.

“She probably only says that because she has a bunch of marks and it makes her feel better! It's not my fault I don't have any!”

Alexander knew the other kids liked to make fun of him by saying he didn't show his arms because he had no marks. He was pretty sure that was what Hercules thought too, thought he'd never asked. But it was different, saying it out loud. Herc went from looking angry, to looking shocked. His mouth opened, looking for words to say.

Alexander could only run away.

Alexander avoided Hercules, and Hercules let him. Maybe that was why it took only two days for Samuel Seabury to shove him in the back. Alexander fell like a particularly unprepared sack of potatoes.

“That's for calling me an idiot!” Samuel was scowling, hands crossed.

Alexander glared, scrambling to his feet. “I never said that!” Not that Samuel didn't deserve it- always going on and on about how great he was because his Dad ran a University.

“Yes, you did! The teacher gave you detention for it!”

Right, Alexander remembered. Instead of acknowledging it, Alexander rolled his eyes. “I got detention for saying my dog's smarter than you. Look, his memory's better than yours, too!”

Samuel's cheeks turned red, mouth scowling so hard it looked painful. “Yeah, well at least I'm not a Freshie! Everyone heard- you've got no marks!”

For maybe the first time, the insult didn't hurt Alexander. It made him mad. “That's it,” Alexander hissed, reaching for his arm wraps. With a few sharp tugs, they were loose, and Alexander threw the pointless strips of cloth to the ground. Samuel flinched back at the sight of plain, unblemished arms. “So what if I'm blank? I can still kick your ass!”

Samual never saw the fist coming, nor the subsequent body tackle. He did, however, anticipate the rest; and surprise attack or not, Samuel had a few inches on Alexander, and he was on the Rugby team. They grappled, screaming and yelling.

Neither of them were even using words. Alexander felt a hand wrench painfully on his hair. He tasted the salt and sweat of Samuel's upper arm as he bit down fiercely. His shoulder thumped painfully into the dirt as Samuel rolled them over and kicked Alexander in the stomach.

Alexander gasped, losing both the air in his lungs and the grip on Samuel's arms. Newly freed, they slapped wildly, uncoordinated but still painful. Samuel was practically screeching, Alexander spared a split second to wonder why they hadn't been stopped, throwing his arms up to protect himself.

A shape hurled into Samuel's side. For a brief moment, Alexander was certain that was the teacher, and he was about to get detention again, probably suspended, definitely a call-home to a disappointed George.

But, “it” wasn't adult shaped. “It” was shouting very much like another child. Alexander blinked. John Laurens, the freckled, bushy haired kid that everyone talked about because he should be in their year, but had to repeat 6th grade. Alexander had still been in Nevis in 6th grade, so he'd never so much as said a word to the other kid. There hadn't been much point.

Now, John- the kid Alexander had never looked at twice- was growing and clawing and smacking like a vengeful playground guardian. Alexander felt something light and fluttery flip inside his gut. He ignored it and joined in with his protector.

Of course they got caught. Alexander pulled off physically with a hand on his arm. John as well, hanging limply just to make it harder for the yard supervisor and bleeding from the nose. Alexander wiped at his own face- no blood, but some very sore flesh around his cheek. It would definitely bruise by the time George came to pick him up.

“This is very disappointing, the two of you ganging up on poor Sam like that.” The supervisor huffed self importantly, dragging them to the office and plopping them down. “Just wait till the Principal gets here, your parents will be so disappointed.” The door sharply closed behind them. Alexander glanced about cautiously. The secretary in the reception desk at the far end of the room glared in pointed warning at them, but turned back to her work. The rest of the office was empty.

Alexander turned again, only to see John staring openly in excited fascination. “Hah, jokes on them, right?” He shot Alexander a toothy grin. “As if my foster parents give a shit what I'm up to.”

His eyes sparked rebellion. Alexander felt his tongue tying itself up. John didn't comment, instead, throwing out a hand. “John Laurens.”

“I know,” Alexander said, shaking the offered limb rather mechanically. “Uh, I mean, Alexander Hamilton.”

John's lips pressed together, but he was still smiling. Smirking, even. “I know. You're the new kid. If I'd known you were a newer soul too, I'd have talked to you ages ago.”

Alexander caught himself from flinching. Unbidden, his gaze dropped down. John's arm was completely blank. But then, he shifted, moving his other forearm into view. It wasn't blank, adorned with two blobby marks. They would have just looked like a strange birthmark, if not for their silvery sheen.

Alexander had never met someone with as few marks as that. From the exceedingly pleased look on John's face, the same held true for him. “Do you like video games? We should hang out, sometime.”

The resulting smile lit up John's entire face, bright like the sun. Alexander felt some foreign, bubbly emotion lighten his heart, nearly making him cave in from how sudden it was. He smiled back.

They didn't get to play video games, because Alexander was grounded for two weeks after George had to pick him up for a two days suspension. It didn't matter- after that, they were inseperable.

“I'm sorry,” Hercules tracked him down a week later, head pointed down at his shoes. “I shouldn't have said that. You're right, and I don't think I believe my Grandma anymore.”

“Um,” Alexander said, head whipping to John and back to Herc. He'd told John, of course, who'd been of the opinion that Hercules deserved to get punched. John didn't react though, continuing to eat his lunch like neither Hercules nor Alexander were there anymore.

Hercules scuffed a shoe. “You don't need to forgive me, I just feel really bad. I'm sorry for hurting you. Can we be friends again?”

John was looking away, pretending to be fascinated by the cloudy sky. His feet tapped against the soft earth. Alexander considered telling Hercules to go away, he had John now. But Herc was sorry, actually sorry, and new best friend or not, Alexander missed him.

Still, Alexander waited one long moment. Then, “Well, I didn't tell you.”

“It was still dumb of me!” Herc insisted, waving his hands. “I won't ever say anything like that again.”

“Okay,” Alexander smiled slowly as warm feelings replaces the tight stress of just moments ago. “I forgive you.”

“I'm- wait, really?!” Hercules glanced at John. “Can I eat here?”

Immediately dropping the pretense, John dropped his gaze from the sky and patted the ground next to him. “If you're Alex's friend, then you're my friend, too. Come sit!”

“Oh, you're okay with 'Alex', now?” Herc sat down almost too quick, immediately shifting into a comfortable position and sliding his lunchbox onto his lap. Alexander quickly remembered that, unlike John, Herc had been there on the first day of class when Alexander put up a huge fuss about anyone shortening his name.

Alexander couldn't stop the blush, but he could argue that this was a totally different situation, so he did.

> So, should I be jealous of this Laurens character?

Alexander choked on his glass of lemonade. For a moment, he regretted giving Gilbert the contact information for his favourite chat client. He didn't really, though. At this point, they knew each other too well so stick to paper mail- cute and fun, but so, so long between messages.

< what's there to be jealous of?

Alexander swallowed. Nothing could have given him away, right?

> your crush on john obviously. How am I going to ever get to talk to you while you're consumed with the innocent notes of young puppy love?

Alexander rubbed his cheeks rather than let them burn. He was lucky there was no one else in the room.

< oh shut up you're like two years older than me

> two years and many, many experiences little lion.

> besides, you didn't deny it

His phone could probably handle being thrown across the room. Alexander considered the notion more seriously than perhaps wise. Instead, he pushed the phone away from him, under the covers.

When Alexander was 16, John still hadn't made any indication of returning any feelings. Alexander thought he was being more than obvious. So instead, he asked Eliza Schuyler out, because she was cute and funny and obviously liked him back.

John acted strange, when Alexander mentioned it.

“Are you okay?” Alexander was forced to ask, when John scuffed his shoe particularly loudly.

“Yeah, fine, fine,” John waved a hand, either in irritation or agitation or something else entirely. “That's really great! I'm happy for you!”

It almost sounded like John was jealous. That didn't make any sense though, he was never jealous when Alexander made a new friend, and he'd gotten a lot better at it now that they were in high school. Mostly with Aaron and Maria and Theodosia. There was no way John liked him either, Alexander would know.

“John's jealous because he likes you,” Herc said bluntly, as soon as John made an extremely awkward exit.

Alexander jumped about a foot in the air. Hurriedly, he reached for the back of the neck as if he'd simply been bitten by some bug. “There's no way John likes me like that. We're friends.” As much as Alex sometimes wished otherwise.

“Well,” Herc rolled his eyes, gesturing to himself, “we are friends. Me and John are friends too. But you and John are definitely something else. You're practically attached at the hip, and you both keep making gooey eyes.”

“Wh- no I don't- wait, John does!?” Alexander shifted his feet. There was no way.

“Yeah.” Herc looked at Alexander like he'd asked what two plus two equaled. “How did you not know? I thought you just liked Eliza more. Or that French guy.”

Alexander shifted. “Gil? No way. We're internet friends.” The idea embarrassed him for some reason. Gilbert was too old anyways. And in France.

Herc let out a long sigh, clapping Alexander on the back so hard he nearly toppled over, still not used to his frankly impressive growth spurt. Or maybe he was making a point. “You know what, I'll leave you to it. Frankly. I hope my potential romances aren't nearly this complicated.” He strode off, adjusting his beanie.

Alexander couldn't help but agree.

It was only a few months later when Eliza was the one to break it off.

“You're great, you know that? And I like you. But you don't like me back.” Eliza wiped a stray tear, visibly trying not to sniffle.

“That's not true!” Alexander wasn't lying. He did like Eliza. She was the kindest person he met, but just as willing to work for the things she wanted. She was funny and loved making awful puns. Alexander had enjoyed every outing with her.

Eliza turned her head away. “Maybe, but you obviously like John more. And that's fine! But I can't handle you always looking for him instead. I'm not- I can't share, I'm sorry.”

Alexander struggled for something to say. Over the years, he'd turned an honest reputation for being the loudest, most opinionated person at school. People still knew he was New Soul, but Alexander could debate circles around any of them so it didn't matter. He'd forced them all to look past that.

He wished he could force Eliza to look past this, but nothing came up. “I'm sorry.”

“Look, it's not my business anymore. Just don't talk to me for a while.” She scrubbed her eyes again and stood up. Alexander watched her go.

It wasn't all worked out, after that- not by a long shot. Everyone except for Herc and John seemed to blame Alexander a bit, for crushing the heart of the most well liked girl in their grade. Eliza's little sister Peggy, a small slip of a girl in grade 9, kicked him in the shins. Angelica, oldest Schuyler sister and all-around genius destined for Ivy League, sent him death glares for a solid week.

But, piece by piece, it got better. Alexander texted Gil for advice, ignoring the weird idea Herc had brought up.

> I guess there was something to fear then lol!

Alexander struggled to figure out what he was talking about for a moment, before realizing.

< oh come on, even if John actually wants to date me it's not like we won't stop being friends. I've been talking to you longer than anyone else

Gilbert took an extra long time to respond. Enough that Alexander worried, for a moment. Then finally,

> damn straight

> or damn gay rather

> damn bi

> point is go confess already

Alexander laughed.

< if I go get rejected you have to watch some terrible comfort movies with me. Thru a stream so there's no escape.

> if you get rejected I'll fly over to DC to comfort u personally. Im loaded I can totally do it

< no you cant shut up

Gilbert was 18, sure, but he was still in his final year of Lycée, French highschool. The words did their job though, Alexander felt much better.

He confessed to John. Rather than a simple yes or no, John first stared blankly. Then burst into tears. Then pulled Alexander in for a kiss, before wildly apologizing for overstepping.

Alexander stilled. Slowly, he reached a hand to his lips, considering the situation. A giggle bubbled up, then another. John joined in, and the next thing Alexander knew they'd burst into manic laughter, cackling and holding each other for support.

John slipped a tentative hand into Alexander's. It was the left arm- the one with the two marks. Alexander thought his blank arm matched John's nicely.

They turned seventeen, still going strong. Alexander tried desperately to skip a year and go into University early. He wanted to advance, needed to, even. Despite the necessary separation should they succeed, John was with him every step of the way. He was also with Alexander when the rejections came.

George- Dad, by now- was there too, to both rail at the school and to assure Alexander that it wasn't the end of the world.

“They let Aaron Burr do it last year,” Alexander reminded again, probably once more than was necessary.

“I know,” His Dad rested a hand on his shoulder. “But think of it this way, that's an extra, what, full year? You can round out your volunteer experience before your workload really picks up, and plus, you can spend more time with John.”

“Yeah,” Alexander smiled, considering the idea. “I guess.” Still, in the back his mind, he wondered if it wasn't because his old nemesis Samuel's Dad was still the school's president. But that would be reaching.

> Hey, I have something to confess.

Alexander's heart clenched. He had no idea what this was about. But Gilbert was his oldest friend, so he pushed forward anyways.

< yeah, what's up?

Gilbert didn't answer, for a while. Alexander typed out another query.

< Gil? You okay?

Another long pause. Alexander had to physically stop himself from adding a third message.

> I don't think I want to be called Gilbert anymore.

Alexander felt almost physically thrown off balance. For a moment, Alexander considered the statement, searching his memory for anything he'd missed. Suddenly, he remembered the fact that Gi- his friend, had specifically referred to himself as “dude” and “person” for a while now, when “guy” would usually be used.

< what would you like to be called?

A long pause again.

> I think I like Lafayette.

> our family name used to be Lafayette, when we were French nobility. It sounded nice to me.

It sounded nice to Alexander, too. Maybe it was because Lafayette (Alexander corrected his brain), liked it.

> also, can you use they/them for me now?

Alexander couldn't type his response out faster.

< of course! If you want to talk about it at all, I'm always ears

> always fingers, you mean

< no that sounds super dirty

> (;

A by now more familiar bubbling feeling pulsed in Alexander's core, unasked. They trusted him enough to come out to him. He was touched- and maybe, with a slight crush. Lafayette was two years older and an adult, plus Alexander had John. Quietly, he shoved the feelings away.

John was both ice and fire. It was stupid and poetic, but it was true. Alexander could go on about his thoughts on the matter, of the art that was his very being, flaws and all. Secretly, he'd never really thought it would work for so long. Keeping John was like keeping Hummingbird- you couldn't cage him, you just had to hope you were good enough to stick around.

Perhaps he'd been underestimating John, or overestimating himself, because they stayed together all through senior year and all the various friend group breakups. Aaron dated Theodosia for longer than Alexander and John had even been together, and broken up so peacefully that Alexander hadn't noticed for a month- it didn't help that Aaron was off to school a year early, and Princeton at that. Maria and Eliza were together still of course, a match better than Alexander had ever been, while Herc had briefly dated some guy from another school named James Madison.

They did fight, of course. Both of them were the fighting type. But it was always small, never too hard to overcome. Alexander loved his boyfriend, and so did his Mom and Dad. It was perfect.

Even so, Alexander could not hold back a flash of deep fear when he got accepted to King's college, and John didn't.

“Hey, don't worry about it,” John was grinning, swinging back and forth on the old tire swing at their house. “You'll call often, right?”

“How are you so calm about this!?” Alexander scratched at his head, inadvertently pulling strands of hair from his hair tie.

John scooted up the tire, until his knees were in the seat and his arms crossed overtop the tire, around the rope. The hold resulted in the swing tilting back far too much due to imbalance, but John held on anyways like he couldn't even tell, years of gymnastic lessons paying off.

“I trust you,” John said simply. “And besides, it's not that far. I'm definitely visiting, like all the time.”

“Really? And you're not mad that I'm going to school without you?”

John laughed. “Yeah, I think I came to terms with that reality long ago.” It was easy for John to smile, but Alexander frowned, uncomfortable with the reminder that John had struggled so much academically. John had, of course, always maintained that there was no way he'd be able to focus if Alexander was the one trying to tutor him, so of course Alexander had backed off.

“Besides, I never wanted to keep going to school like you do.”

“Wait,” Alexander made a double take, “You're going straight to work?”

“Oh, no, I wish.” John stuck his tongue out. “ my grades are good enough for community college. I just don't think I'm going for any four year programs, you know? You enjoy yourself, learning things, changing the world. I'm just going to find something I don't hate doing.”

The words startled a laugh out of Alexander. Impulsively, he leaned down to kiss John, softly on the lips. John hummed, and deepened it. Alexander parted his lips slightly, eagerly- and was met by empty air. The bottom of the tire swung into Alexander's hips as John lost his grip and fell gracelessly into the dirt. Alexander fell not a second later, not expecting the sudden tire assault.

They stared at each other for a moment. Then, John started cackling. Alexander joined him.

Alexander went to school for a degree Economics, with plans to set up a minor in Political Science, if he could manage it. John went to school for a diploma in Child and Youth work.

“Only because they didn't have underwater basket weaving,” John insisted for the third time, determined to use the joke as much as possible. “My dreams are still crushed. Besides, I've lived through it, so I'm basically half qualified already. It'll be a breeze.”

John sounded flippant, but his eyes were soft, his lips quirked in what should have been a careless smirk, but looked more like a thoughtful smile.

“Don't pretend you don't care,” Alexander admonished lightly.

“You can't make me.” John stuck his tongue out. Alexander considered the challenge, then considered the scholarship applications on his laptop. He closed the laptop lid and lunged.

After a fruitful struggle of kisses and tickles and mock wrestling, John relented. “Fine, I care. You're a huge dork.”

“I'm your dork,” Alexander agreed.

“John, John,” Alexander whispered, tugging on his boyfriend's sleeve. “John. JohnJohnJohn.”

John snorted. “What?” His eyes danced, he knew exactly what was wrong.

“I feel like I'm going to throw up,” Alexander admitted. The airport was a pleasant, perfect temperature, the air surprisingly clean tasting, for an airport.

John turned his head back and forth. “Well, there's a trashcan over there. Do you think you'll need it?”

Alexander glanced at it, considering that he actually might need it. But he shook his head instead. “No, just don't stop holding me, okay?” Their hands were already clasped tight, probably causing John some discomfort.

“Always,” John said, giving Alexander's hand another squeeze. Alexander grinned as best as he could through his nerves. The baggage notice for the flight they were waiting for was lit, they just had to wait for the passengers to filter through.

Alexander was twenty years old and he shouldn't be this nervous. John wasn't judging him though, and neither could anyone else.

How often did one meet their oldest friend, someone they'd been talking to since they were twelve, for the first time ever?

A head, several inches taller than most of the crowd, covered in bouncy, tied back curls and matched with a face Alexander had only seen through pictures, pushed through the open doors. They started scanning the crowd immediately.

Alexander wasn't about to wait for that. “Lafayette!” He waved his arm wildly, nerves suddenly replaced by pure elation. How could he be nervous? This was Lafayette.

“Alexander!” They shouted back, voice familiar only through phone calls. It sounded even better in person. They ran, long legs carrying them almost dangerously fast, and suddenly Alexander found himself swinging circles in the air, arms holding him tight. “Little Lion! We meet at last!”

Alexander laughed, not because it was funny, but because he was feeling too many emotions. “Laf, oh my god, how are you so tall?!”

“How are you so little! I never thought my pet name would be so appropriate!” Lafayette laughed too, high pitched and gleeful. “It's so good to meet you!”

With a soft “oof,” Alexander felt himself set back on solid ground. “You don't get to steal my lines!” He admonished, unable to even attempt hiding a wide grin. Lafayette looked great in person, practically bursting with earnest energy, though that could also be due to them being consumed by the same nerves Alexander had. “Oh! Meet John!” Without even thinking, he tugged Lafayette's hand toward his boyfriend, who was standing to the side with a dazed, almost gaping look to his face.

“John Laurens,” John offered quickly, throwing a hand out.

Lafayette took it gently, giving it a light shake and, if possible, brightening even more. “Lafayette du Motier. A pleasure to meet you.” They gave their best charming smile. Alexander would have been fooled, if he hadn't been there when Lafayette was desperately trying to perfect it and demanding pointers.

“Don't fall for it John, they're being a nerd.” Alexander shook his head in mock shame. “Their smooth moves are all a lie.”

Lafayette scrunched their nose, before tilting their head up with a very fake scoff. “You only wish. There is no lie, just good presentation.”

“Oh, same thing. You're still a nerd.” Alexander shoved Lafayette with one arm, the motion feeling natural. Lafayette took it gracefully, following the movement with their eyes, but failing to avoid it.

“Well, I will not deny that,” Lafayette conceded, bringing a finger to their chin in thought. “Can I not be both?” They shot Alexander another smile, only smaller and softer. Alexander wondered if the video calls from all these years really had lost something in the digital transfer. Their face had never lit up so beautifully over the computer screen, had it?

“Lies, all of it,” Alexander said instead. Lafayette laughed, the sound going straight to his heart.

“So... they were something.” John said afterwords, after they'd all hung out and shown them around town and found their exchange student housing, still with something of a shell shocked expression.

Alexander snorted. “Laf's something all right. But don't let them fool you, remember the frog.”

That did the trick. John snorted so loudly it sounded painful. “Oh, God,” He chuckled. And then froze in the middle of his walk. Alexander turned back at the absence of John's body by his side.

“Wait, so if you told me about the frog incident...” John frowned. “ Did you tell them about the turtle incident?”

Alexander barely considered the question, shrugging. “Of course. I tell them everything. Just like I tell you everything.”

Alexander frowned when that failed to get John moving again. “Oh, my God,” he moaned.

“What? Was it bad that I told them? Did you ask me not to share and I forgot? I'm sorry.” Alexander flipped his hands nervously, combing for any such memory. He couldn't remember if John had ever said it was not okay, but he couldn't remember an explicit go ahead, either.

“No, no!” John stepped forward, leaning his shoulder into Alexander's. Immediately, he calmed at the simple contact. “I just, it feels embarrassing now that I've met them.”

“Really?” Alexander asked, confused.

“Well,” John said with a soft hum, looking away. Alexander saw a hint of red by his lower jaw, half covered by a loose coil of hair. “They were very pretty.”

Alexander pictured Lafayette, preciously vivid in his memory. From the striped, high waisted skirt to the soft knitted sweater to the charming, knee high dress boots. “Yeah,” Alexander agreed, “They really are.”

The thought of John finding his other best friend attractive probably should have made Alexander at least a little uncomfortable. Instead, it felt right. His old crush stirred back up, rearing its head after years of pointed neglect.

With John looking like he'd just seen stars for the first time, Alexander didn't feel as bad about it as he used to. Still, he tucked it away.

The glamour faded after the first week. It was always going to happen. The way Lafayette slotted so easily into both their lives, however, was less predictable. Alexander was constantly surprised by just how easy it was.

Then, the subject of marks came up.

“Holy shit,” John stared blankly at Lafayette's forearms, exposed for the first time on an overwarm fall afternoon, in the privacy of Alexander's rented room. They were absolutely layered in geometric shapes, sparkling golds and bronzes and yellows that folded over each other, leaving no hint of their natural skin underneath.

Lafayette glanced away, moving their arms down and the marks out of view. “I don't like making a big deal about it.”

“You're covered in them, though. How many?”

Lafayette shifted, frowning. Alexander frowned too. John knew it wasn't nice to go and ask, just because they were both so open about their counts.

“A hundred and ninety two.”

John whistled. “I've never seen a number so high.” There was something not entirely kind in his voice. “So, do you feel any wiser than us mortal folk?”

Lafayette flinched. “John!” Alexander shouted, ice tightening his spine with a death grip. A lance of immediate stress pierced his gut. “What the fuck, don't say that!”

John stood up, eyes flaring above frustrated, tight lips. “You never told me they were a fucking Golden Age Soul!”

Alexander stood up too, angry but with a tangled ball of pure hurt tightening around his heart. “I didn't think it mattered! Since when do we care about mark count!?”

“Since always! They're the one who has the luxury of pretending not to care, and then turning around and treating us like children!”

Negative emotions swirled and mixed together, and Alexander wasn't sure what he was feeling anymore, except upset. “Laf's not like that! You know that!”

John clenched his teeth with a sharp snap. “No I don't.”

“Then trust me now! Laf hasn't done anything wrong!”

John's eyes sparked as he opened his mouth, almost certainly not to apologize. Alexander didn't get to hear it however, as Lafayette threw a hand up in the air.

“Please. I don't want to be the cause of your fight.” Lafayette scrambled to their feet, grabbing their backpack and shoving the work they had been doing away haphazardly.

“No, Laf, don't go, John's the one being-”

“It's okay,” Lafayette cut him off. “You guys can talk it out. I'll see you later.” And before Alexander could really protest, they were out the door.

“You scared them off,” Alexander said calmly, too cold now to shout.

“Whatever,” John scoffed, rolling his eyes.

Alexander bit his lip. “I really don't want to see you right now. Can you go home?”

“Seriously!?”

“Yeah. Please leave me alone.” Alexander was being extremely short. He didn't care.

John left silently, the only sound being the front door slamming louder than strictly necessary. Alexander curled up in his bed, homework forgotten.

He didn't sleep well.

Alexander didn't do anything like the silent treatment, but he did hang out less with John, and the times they were together were tense and filled with tip-toeing words. Alexander spent more time with Lafayette.

“I feel where he's coming from,” Lafayette admitted, after they had spent hours visibly struggling not to bring the topic up. Alexander hadn't said anything about John today, but immediately he knew who Lafayette was talking about. “I don't think I'd be comfortable meeting another Golden age soul either.

Alexander huffed. “Who cares if you've lived more than a hundred and fifty lives. You've been my friend for years, that should be enough for him not to throw you under the bus the second he realizes.”

“You may have known me for years, but he's only heard about me. It's hard to build trust second hand like that. He means well.”

“No he doesn't. He just heard something about you, something we've spent years trying to prove is irrelevant, and used it as an excuse to be nasty.”

Lafayette shrugged, falling onto the bed, beside Alexander. “Your John is not necessarily completely wrong, though. It's true that you and Adri helped me learn a lot about people with New souls, or nearly new. But at the end of the day, people are still going to look at me and think they're seeing some paragon of wisdom and worldly knowledge.”

Alexander didn't like the words, but they weren't wrong. Silver aged souls, those with over a hundred marks, were considered valuable, very useful people. Something of a living heritage, and something of a natural talent. Golden aged souls, with more than a hundred and fifty marks, were that, dialed up to the extreme.

“He still didn't need to be such a jerk about it.”

“Maybe not. But you can see why he felt betrayed.”

“Maybe,” Alexander repeated.

Lafayette sighed, sitting up again. “Little lion, you should show me more of your strange foreign foods. Like the ridiculous amount of sugar-based breakfast cereals.”

Alexander accepted the topic change thankfully, turning his head to more pleasant thoughts.

Several more weeks of stress went by. Then finally, John cornered Alexander one day, despite looking like he'd rather be anywhere else.

“Look, Alex. I was being shitty. You're right. I just- why didn't you ever say anything?”

Alexander wasn't expecting the question. For a moment, he considered shooting back angrily, something like 'because I knew you'd react like this'. But it wasn't true, and Alexander was tired of being on nervous eggshells around his boyfriend.

“I'm not sure. It just never came up.” That didn't sound right either. Alexander felt strange the more he thought about it.

“It never came up. In all the debates and arguments we've made against the whole soul marking business.” John said in a dry, disbelieving voice.

“Yeah, true. I guess I just buried it. Maybe I was embarrassed?” Alexander thought some more. “We always said things like 'new souls have to stick together', and such. Maybe I just didn't want to feel like a hypocrite. But Lafayette really is my friend. It doesn't matter how many marks they have.”

“Oh,” John wiped his eyes. “I'm an asshole, aren't I?”

“Yes,” Alexander said immediately. “To Laf, anyway. But I should have told you forever ago.”

John coughed, wiping his face again. “True. I'm sorry for being a dick.”

“You really should apologize to Lafayette instead,” Alexander cautioned, because he couldn't really accept an apology that wasn't actually for him, “But thanks.”

They sat awkwardly for a minute, just staring. John finished covertly removing the tears from his face. Finally, Alexander couldn't stand it anymore. “Can I hug you, now?”

John answered by practically leaping from his chair to Alexander's seat on the bed. For the first time in weeks, Alexander's arms were full of John, his nose scrunched into long, curly hair as hands threaded their way through Alexander's own straighter brown locks. Legs straddled his lap as their torsos pressed together.

Alexander had missed feeling John's heartbeat. His whole body relaxed into the hold, arms slipping easily around John's sides and pulling them even closer together.

“I promise I'll apologize tomorrow,” John said into Alexander's ear, chin resting on his shoulder. “But for tonight, can we just sit here like this? I missed you.”

That sounded like a perfect plan to him.

John was true to his word. Lafayette responded with a full body hug. For the first time in weeks, Alexander felt the last of the tension drain from his chest. Giddy with relief, he suggested they all go out and get drunk.

They couldn't decide where to go, so instead they went to the liquor store and bought supplies to Alexander's house.

His flatmate, an annoying man by the name of Thomas Jefferson, gave them some snacks from his supply but stole a cooler in return.

“Asshole,” Alexander muttered when Thomas was gone. “How does someone have this many kinds of chip flavours at once. There's not that much floor space in our rooms.”

“Shh, he's doing us a favour,” Lafayette admonished, smiling. “I think he's very pleasant when he wants to be.

“That's the thing,” John said, projecting from across the room where he was working off the cork on a bottle of wine that claimed to be from somewhere around Lafayette's hometown. Lafayette had also claimed they would be able to tell for sure. Naturally, they had to get it. “He never wants to be.”

Alexander barked out a sharp laugh. “Except!” John added, holding a finger up, “around Madison.”

“ohhh shit, you're right.” Alexander nodded. “He is way, way more tolerable around Madison. A lot goopier, though.”

John stepped over to split the bottle between the three of them. In true college life fashion, they used beer cups. Lafayette pouted. “It really does taste completely different in a proper glass.”

“Not a chance,” John quipped. Alexander couldn't help another warm, fuzzy feeling, the two probably most important people in his life interacting, happy. “It's just a cup. It can't possibly change the taste, that's a chemical thing, isn't it?”

Lafayette scoffed, swirling their wine around dramatically. “Taste is a chemical thing, sure, but it is also a presentation thing. Have you not heard the phrase “you eat with your eyes first”? Your perception of a food has a definite effect on how you taste it. Or drink, in this case.”

Visibly intrigued, John set down his cup, folding his arms. “Really? You think if I was given two plates of the same dish, and it was the exact same food in every way except for presentation, I could tell? Like I'd be fooled by that.”

“Absolutely. Try mixing a bit of green food colouring with some mashed potatoes. I guarantee you will feel some difference, and it won't be the colouring itself, which is designed to not taste.”

“We should,” Alexander said, butting in. “But first, you should put your money where your mouth is. Is that wine legit?”

Lafayette shrugged, closed their eyes, and took a long sip. They swished it around their mouth, a considering expression on their face. Alexander scoffed- it was pure theatrics. Then, Lafayette swallowed, then broke into a grin.

“It totally is!” They snorted. “Try it!”

Alexander took a sip. John made a gagging noise from behind. “It's gross!” He wasn't wrong.

“It's the shit wine! The super cheap crap made with the grapes they can't use for the good stuff! Hah, I'd recognize it anywhere.” Lafayette took another swig. “I love it.”

Alexander took another sip. No, it was still the most disgusting wine he'd ever tasted. “You can have mine.” Alexander set his cup next to Lafayette.

“Same,” John copied him, leaving Lafayette 3 cups. “Well, I guess that's fair. It was pretty cheap for a French import.”

“Oh no, this won't do,” Lafayette grinned, “I can't just have a whole bottle of wine. Not unless you two are drinking something. What if I'm taken advantage of?”

“What if that's the goal?” John smirked, returning the jab. It made Lafayette laugh. Alexander felt warm and fuzzy again.

Alexander stood up to go check out the stockpile himself. “It's too late John, we've been foiled. Now, do you want a beer or cooler?”

John considered for a moment. “Cooler.”

It didn't take long for all of them to get a pleasant buzz, perhaps more than that. John found some internet videos to watch and all three of them stretched out on the bed.

There was a pause between videos as the queue app loaded. Lafayette took a deep breath from Alexander's right. “You know, I'm not sure which of you I'm jealous of.”

“Um,” Alexander said.

John leaned forward from Alexander's left, similarly baffled. “What?”

Lafayette loosed a sharp breath from their mouth, covering their face with one hand. “This is stupid. When I first got here, I was jealous of you, John, for having Alexander. Now, I'm still that, but I'm also jealous of you, Alexander, for having John.”

Alexander felt his face heat up. “Ah, this is inappropriate. I don't mean to make either of you uncomfortable.”

“No!” John sat up more fully. “Are you kidding? I have a huge crush on you too!” He wilted a bit. “Why do you think I overreacted?”

“Well,” Alexander felt something hopeful stir in his chest. “Why do you think I got so defensive? God, I've crushed on Laf for at least a couple years.” He turned to Lafayette. “And then, when you came her for the first time? It was- it was poetic.”

Lafayette huffed again, averting their eyes. “Stop, you're making me blush.” They took a quick swig of their drink. “I suppose we all like each other. I'd never do anything to hurt your relationship though, you know that, right?”

It was a touching thing to say. Reassuring, by definition. Still, Alexander felt a little sad, hearing it. His love for John wasn't diminished in the slightest, but the idea of having Lafayette too- of both of them having Lafayette- tickled his mind.

John was changing the topic though, and Lafayette was eagerly taking it, so Alexander put the thought away.

“You're all idiots.” Hercules told him, blankly. Alexander felt like they'd had this conversation already, somehow. “Talk to John about it, then talk to Lafayette. It's that simple, and I bet you anything they'd both want to give it a try.”

Alexander whined. “Herc, it's not that simple. What if it freaks John out?”

“You've been together since highschool, I think it's going to take more than that to scare him off!” Hercules reached for his iced drink. It was way too cold for an iced drink today.

“Oh, how do you know?”

Hercules snorted. “Well, you know Aaron, right?” Alexander scowled. Aaron was actually a pretty good guy, if a bit shifty and suspiciously quiet all the time. He was also dating Hercules now, which was just weird. “Aaron told me he was polyamorous. It didn't change that we're still in a monogamous relationship right now.”

Alexander shifted back, taken by surprise. “Really? And he's okay with you just telling me this?”

“He specifically told me it was fine, so yeah.”

“Huh,” Alexander sat back in his chair. “And are you polyamorous, you think?”

Hercules shrugged. “I'm..,” He brought up a hand, making a so-so gesture. “I think, if we both met the right person, I could try dating both of them. But it doesn't have to work that way either, Aaron can date someone that I'm not. We agreed the someone has to at least be someone I like and can hang out with, though.

Alexander hummed, an unconscious considering noise. “That sounds.. simple, when you put it like that.”

“Well,” Hercules smirked, “my boyfriend is very smart. Maybe it's rubbed off on me.”

“Hah!” Alexander laughed, “If eight years of being my friend couldn't do anything, I doubt a few months of dating Aaron could.”

“Hey, shut up!” Hercules pretended to scowl through a round of chuckles. “I'm in the middle of a nursing degree! That's hardcore science stuff, you know!”

“Yeah, your welcome.” Alexander's response probably deserved the friendly shove. It didn't stop Alexander from shoving back.

When Alexander quietly brought it up, John nearly jumped over himself in agreement.

“Yes! I mean please! I mean, I didn't want to overstep because I love you, but I would very much like to kiss Laf too.”

“Well,” Alexander said, slightly taken aback. “I'd like it to involve more than kissing, if you're okay with that. I want to date them like I'm dating you.”

John nodded. “No, I know. I think for me, I like Laf. I definitely think they're gorgeous. I don't have the same background with them as you do, but I think we could get along and I'd like to try dating them too.”

“Okay,” Alexander considered his next option. He hadn't thought it would come so quickly. It was obvious John had an aesthetic crush on Lafayette, but he'd never known there were other feelings involved.

Then again, Alexander remembered that he hadn't known about John's crush on him, way back in high school. Privately, Alexander considered that he might just be very bad at this.

They went to Lafayette the next day, together, at a coffeeshop under the idea that it would feel less like cornering.

They didn't speak for a long time. Then,

“You both like me?”

“Yea-” “yes!-” They both tripped over themselves.

Lafayette averted their eyes, pulling at the sleeve of their colourful, neon sweater- an uncharacteristic show of nerves. “You're sure? You're not... concerned about my marks?”

“Absolutely not!” John cut out before Alexander could put a word in edgewise. “I was dumb. And sure, I have an issue with old souls, maybe especially with Silvers or Golds. But I like you, a lot. No one's past lives define them, though. What I have an issue with is the social attitude around the whole subject, and how it changes the way people treat each other.”

Lafayette allowed a tiny smile. “Yeah, that's fair. It's also not as if it saves me from other social attitudes. Like, did you know once someone walked up to me and said I must be confused about my gender because so many past lives must have scrambled me up?” The words made Alexander light up with immediate defensive anger.

“Ugh,” John nodded. “What a fucker. Did you punch him?”

“No, it was the person approving me for the exchange. I did think it was silly though, since before he knew, he was talking about all the sights I must have seen in my lives. It was a very dramatic shift.”

John made a disgusted face. “It's the worst when they have something you need, I feel you on that.”

“So,” Alexander said, when the two of them had gone quiet. “Will you go out with us?” Just saying the words made his stomach flip. He was chasing what he wanted- they all were.

“I-”, Lafayette stuttered. “Yes. I'd love to.”

It was as simple as that.

-Epilogue-

Life carried on, it always did. Still, Alexander never thought he'd have a freshly bought home with his two partners and best friends. He also didn't think that it would have a back patio this nice, or a pool; but when put all together, their inheritances and incomes were considerably impressive.

“I'm scared, sometimes,” Lafayette said quietly, ankles submerged in pristine pool water.

“Is this a life thing, or a void thing?” John asked from the patio chair.

Alexander considered both statement and question, drifting aimlessly in a pool tube. “I guess you could map all fears into those two categories.”

Lafayette hummed. “Actually, both, kind of. You know there's never, in the history of modern science, and by all historical counts, been a person with more than 203 total lives, or 202 marks, right?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Alexander nodded. “Weird stuff.”

“And you also know that even thousands of years ago there were accounts of people with close to the maximum mark count, so you know it's not any kind of “there's only been 203 lifespans worth of humans” Creationist thing.”

Alexander and John both snorted in unison.

“Well, the dominant theory is that it's because after many lives, your soul just expires. Sometimes earlier, because there's a disproportionately small number of people who actually make it this far. But 203 is the upper limit.” Lafayette kicked their foot, creating a small splash. “I know I won't be able to remember either of you, in the next life. But I'm kind of scared to think that you two will go on to so many lives that I won't get to be a part of. Because my souls going to decompose or something.”

The thought was heavy. Alexander thought for something to say. “Well, you know, there's no proof that some reincarnation chains don't just stop at very early numbers too. It's less likely, but maybe John and I will wither away while you go to live all the way to 203. It's impossible to tell.”

“You're both being way too philosophical. I say, the essence of what's really you and me begins and ends with our physical bodies. My next life isn't me, it's just some new sucker I passed my weird, metaphysical 'essence-of-human' off to. Live life while you can, and all that.”

“Hah!” Lafayette barked out a surprised laugh. “I have never heard something so morbid be used for comfort.”

“Hmm,” John considered. “Did it work, though?”

“...Yes, actually.”

Alexander considered the idea. Maybe you really only did live once. For all that people had these marks, souls were still undefinable. If soul marks didn't exist, Alexander suspected that no one would believe in souls at all.

The thought was morbid. Alexander found himself liking it anyways.

#fic #long fic #laflams #plz enjoy #i gotta run and take my bro to work

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