Chapter Text
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John Laurens leaned his head back against the leather seat, exhausted from a long day. But soon it would all be worth it- he was going away to college in New York City, where he’d finally be away from his father. Henry was sitting next to him in the cab, knuckles clenched tight around John’s bag. His knuckles were always clenched tightly around something.
John watched the people on the side of the street. They were all moving quickly, earbuds in, scarves and hats pulled over faces against the gusty wind- some biking, some walking, some out for a run in the chilly weather. It was the last day of August and autumn was beginning to set in. He wondered if these people would all keep walking when winter came and the cold was unrelenting and cruel.
That’s what John always imagined winter up north to be like, anyway. He’d never actually been north for their snowy season, so he was just guessing. But he’d experience one soon enough.
He was excited- ridiculously excited, actually. Only a few more hours of dealing with his father, and then he was free for months! He’d even gotten an apartment with other students at King's College, partly paid for by his scholarship. He’d hopefully make some friends and fit in here- he didn’t want to be the weird southern rich kid.
Not that being rich was important to him- that was his father. John prided himself on being the least like him as was possible. Although that was easier said than done, as Henry was strict in the upbringing of his children, especially John. Clothes, shoes, classes, friends- all were chosen by Henry.
Until a few months ago. When John had told his father two things: one, that he wasn’t majoring in business like Henry wanted- he was majoring in biology instead- and two, he was gay and in a relationship. That conversation had ended in John getting kicked out of the house. He’d had no contact with Henry since, living with his boyfriend until that had fallen apart. Then he’d lived on the streets, coming home every once in awhile while Henry was out to check on his five younger siblings.
Then, a few days ago, Henry had called at John's friend's house where he was staying, saying he wanted to come with him to New York, help him get settled into his apartment. John had refused, but Henry had a way of getting what he wanted.
“Son,” said Henry suddenly, startling John out of his thoughts. “We’re almost there. We need to talk before you get into your apartment.”
“Okay,” said John warily. He knew where this was going.
“Remember what I always tell you. Listen to the Bible, no drinking except on Sundays for mass, no sex, and be careful who you make friends with. I don’t want to hear any more stories about my son and someone… who isn’t like us.”
“Of course, Father,” John said flatly. ‘Isn’t like us.’ So basically, everyone on campus except the racist, sexist, homophobic people. How John’s black mother had managed to tolerate a relationship with Henry for so long, John didn’t know. But it wasn’t like Henry had to know everything that went on in John’s life- he could get away with hanging out with nice people for once. That is, unless Henry scared them off first.
“I also plan on meeting your friends and your girlfriend next time I visit.”
“I told you I don’t like girls, Father. If that’s what you’re expecting you’re going to be disappointed.” Henry steadfastly ignored him. John sighed in defeat, playing with the strings of his sweatshirt. “And when might that visit be?”
“Watch your tone,” snapped Henry. John shrunk away from him- he knew that voice. “And I’ll probably be coming up again during winter break. I expect you to stay at college during that time- you’ll have work to do if you want to keep your excellent grades, and even more so if you’re going to major in business like we discussed.” His tone had gotten a bit threatening, a bit dangerous- a reminder of the argument they’d had on this subject, and a reminder of who he thought had won that argument.
John was most definitely not going to major in business, no matter what his father expected. “Of course.”
“Good. We’re here.” The cab pulled into a huge parking lot and John got out immediately, grabbing his bags.
They walked into the apartment, following the directions Henry had gotten, and finally stopped outside John’s place. John knocked and opened the door, immediately wincing- not at the sight itself, but at how his father was going to react.
Two black boys sat on a ragged couch at the side of the sparse living room, one with his frizzy hair pulled back into a ponytail, and one with a bandana tied around his. Both were grinning at John widely. But what made John wince was their t-shirts- the one with the bandana had on a Black Lives Matter shirt and the other had a rainbow logo on it.
John personally had no problem with either of the shirts- he quietly supported Black Lives Matter and gay rights- but Henry most certainly did. He walked into the room and his eyes narrowed at the boys, who’d stood up to greet John. Setting down John’s bags, he scowled at the outstretched hands they offered and crossed his arms over his chest.
With an apologetic glance at both boys, who looked offended, he shook their hands. “I’m John Laurens, pleased to meet you. This is my father Henry.” Henry nodded brusquely.
“Um… hey, John, nice to meet you too,” said the boy in the Black Lives Matter shirt. “I’m Hercules Mulligan, but call me Herc.”
“Bonjour, I’m Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Montier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette,” said the one in the pride shirt. Looking closer, John noticed that he had an eyebrow ring and was wearing soft pink eyeshadow and eyeliner. Smiling at John’s incredulous look, he added, “But I go by Lafayette. Or Laf.”
John laughed. “Nice to meet you, Lafayette, Hercules.”
Meanwhile, Henry’s face had gotten redder and redder each name Laf had said, and John didn't suppose the makeup helped either. “I’d like to speak to my son alone, boys. If you would…” he stared pointedly at the door leading to what John guessed was a bedroom. Herc and Lafayette left, exchanging annoyed glances.
As soon as they left, Henry turned his glare to his son. John took a step back, wincing at his father’s murderous stare.
“I’m getting your room switched as soon as possible. These… boys are not people I want you hanging around with.”
“Calm down, Father, they seem really nice-”
“Oh, they might seem nice now, but mark my words, John, they’re not going to turn out well.”
“Well, frankly, you didn’t treat them with any respect whatsoever, so it might not be them that’s the problem here,” snapped John. He was tired of this bullshit. “You could at least try to be polite. Plus, this is my scholarship and my life. You kicked me out, remember?” he added, lowering his voice but keeping the anger.
Henry’s face twisted with rage and he glanced around before swiftly stepping forward and backhanding John across one cheek. John inhaled sharply and stumbled back, barely managing to keep from yelping in surprise.
“You’re lucky that’s all you’re getting, son,” hissed Henry. “Don’t ever talk to me that way again. I’m leaving. Don’t forget what we talked about.” Henry spun on one heel and stalked out of the room, slamming the door on his way out.
As soon as he was gone, John slumped onto the couch, touching his cheek gently. It burned- Henry had left a mark, which was unlike him in public.
Lafayette poked his head out of the bedroom door and glanced around, then stepped outside. “The coast is clear, mon ami,” he called over his shoulder. Hercules followed him out and they both gave John appraising looks, like he was about to go all high and mighty on them.
“I’m sorry about my father,” John sighed. “He’s a jerk sometimes. Well, all the time, actually.”
Herc gave a nervous laugh. “Seems like that. No offense.”
“Nah, it’s alright. I hate him.” John stood and grinned at his new roommates. “I’m not like him.”
“That is good news,” said Laf. “We are expecting our other roommate tomorrow morning around ten, so make sure you are awake.”
“Don’t worry, I’m used to getting up early. Ten’s not a problem.”
“Mon ami, there is something on your cheek,” sad Laf, coming closer to inspect it. John leapt backward and slapped a hand over the mark, ignoring the sting. Lafayette’s eyes
narrowed, then widened.
Great. He’d been too obvious, as usual. “Um, it’s nothing,” stammered John. “Is there an open bed where I can set up?”
“Yeah,” said Hercules, halting his examination of John’s face. He led John into a bedroom and pointed at an empty bunk bed. “You can choose, top or bottom. Our other roomie gets last choice.” Hercules smirked. “Unlucky for him. Laf and I are in the other bedroom next door.”
John dumped his bags on the bottom bunk. He took his time making his bed and putting his clothes in his designated drawer, hoping his bruise would fade by the time he returned to the living room. When he slipped back into the living area, his roommates were sitting again on the couch side by side, whispering quietly. John cleared his throat awkwardly and sat in a wooden chair at the small table.
“Hey, man,” said Hercules easily, no trace of embarrassment about the whispering in his voice. John wished he could be that easygoing.
Noticing Laf’s suspicious look, he quickly said, “Look, I really am sorry about how Henry acted. He’s a self-righteous asshole.” Then he winced- had he really just called his father an asshole? It was true, but… he’d never said something like that aloud before.
Lafayette shook his head. “We appreciate that, but that is not what I was looking at you for. I was saying how you still have a bruise on your cheek.”
John’s eyes widened. “Oh. Um, I… I tripped on the way out the door this morning.”
Herc narrowed his eyes. “We know that’s not true. It looks like a hand. Anyway, you’re here now, you’re away from him. You don’t have to deal with that shit anymore. I’m sorry you went through it in the first place.” There was a look of intense disgust on his face, but John knew it wasn’t directed at him.
“Oui, il est très horrible,” said Laf with distaste. “You deserve better.”
“Merci,” said John with a grin, relieved they didn’t expect him to act the same as Henry. “Tu est gentil.”
“Tu parle français?” exclaimed Laf with delight.
“Not really,” laughed John. “Just a few phrases here and there.”
“Well, I certainly don’t speak French, so let’s stick with English,” said Herc, wiggling his eyebrows. “D’accord?”
“I thought you didn’t speak French,” said John.
“Laf says it all the time. I’m not completely oblivious, you know,” said Hercules with a mock scowl. "I've picked some things up."
“Oui, not completely,” agreed Laf. “Juste un petit peu.”
John laughed again at Herc’s confused expression. “Yes, just a little bit oblivious.”
“Hey!” protested Herc.
“Come, sit with us,” invited Lafayette. “We will watch le télé.”
“You can just say ‘we’re watching TV',” said Herc.
“Oui, I could do that, but French is much more fun,” said Laf, patting the couch beside him in invitation.
John smiled and sat next to Lafayette as Herc turned on the tiny, outdated television. Since all four roommates had gotten this room partly paid for by their scholarships, the decor was abysmal, although easy to afford, so John wasn’t complaining.
///
After a couple hours of getting to know each other over old "Friends" reruns, Laf stood up and stretched.
“I am going to bed,” he said, glancing at the clock on the wall over the couch. It was only nine at night. “Do not forget our roommate is coming in the morning. I will make breakfast.”
“Laf is a great cook,” said Hercules with a grin. “Their pancakes are to die for.”
“Excellent,” said John. Homemade pancakes sounded delicious. Then he cocked his head. "Their?"
"Oh," said Laf, his cheeks flushing. "I go by they/them pronouns. My gender is, ah, what do Americans call it... nonbinary. I hope it does not bother you."
Herc gave John a look that said if it did bother him, he'd find himself dead in a ditch somewhere. John shook his head. He was faintly surprised, and a bit uncomfortable, but he'd get over it. He'd felt the same way about himself when he'd realized he was gay, but he'd learned to accept himself, and he'd do the same for his roommate. There was always his father's voice in the back of his head, feeding him lies, but John did his best to ignore it. "Of course not. Although... I don't really know anything about that kind of thing. If I ever say or do anything offensive, please let me know. I'm rather uneducated in this area."
Lafayette smiled brightly, flashing his- their- dimples. "Most people are. It is alright, I will let you know."
“When did you two get here?” John asked, glancing between them. "It feels like you've known each other forever."
“Yesterday afternoon. That is when we met,” replied Laf. “And I made pancakes this morning, Herc. We have leftovers. I am not making more food so early.”
“Leftovers aren’t as good,” complained Herc. “Fresh is always better.”
“You will get used to it. We will live off noodles soon,” said Laf matter-of-factly, shaking their head in exasperation. “The instant ones that taste like cardboard.”
“Ramen noodles?” asked Herc with a smirk. “They taste like heaven.” John nodded frantically.
“Americans,” grumbled Lafayette as they disappeared into the bedroom. “No sense of taste.” Herc and John laughed and followed them.
As John lay in bed that night, he smiled up at the empty top bunk. There was no way he was letting Henry switch his room. John was already disowned- what more would Henry do, really? Lafayette and Hercules were the best roommates he could have hoped for. Even if his third roomie turned out awful, he’d still enjoy his time here immensely, even if he had to live off ramen noodles for the rest of college.
Besides, ramen wasn't even bad, no matter how much Laf complained it tasted of cardboard.