Chapter Text
Saturday nights were Alex’s favourite now–they never used to be, before.
Before John had come into his life.
His Saturdays used to be spent outside on his own, wandering aimlessly around the edge of town, and then hurrying home when the streetlights turned on, praying that he wasn’t too late; but he was, usually.
Alex always lost track of time and of where his feet carried him, so it took him much longer to get back to his father’s cramped, moldy house than he expected.
And then, he had to ease the door open and hold his breath, the musky scent of cigar-smoke and cheap alcohol hitting him like a brick to the face; but he coughed, most times, anyway. No matter how hard he tried not to.
His father’s friends always noticed him when he scurried past and bounded up the stairs, leering at him, whispering things to each other Alex tried to overhear but that ended up burned into the back of his mind nonetheless, and dad didn’t say anything against it, never.
Saturdays used to make Alex feel disgusting, like he was coated in dirt, crusted with mud, suffocating in cigar-smoke.
And then, one day so many months ago, he had stumbled across their resident business-man’s eldest son, sat in the grass at the creek just before sundown, a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers and tears drying on freckled cheeks.
He’d known John Laurens, of course. Everyone did. He was one of their school’s absolute heartthrobs, and Alex- Alex understood why. He could see it, too, even though he wasn’t supposed to.
John had looked so tired, then. He hadn’t even tried to offer up an explanation, had only stared back at Alex, resigned and exhausted, and Alex had very suddenly realised that he probably looked just the same.
They were two wrongs, lost in a world made up of rights, and they had found each other.
It was barely a month into their fledgling friendship when John softly stroked his fingers along Alex’s cheek, eyes gentle and adoring, and asked if he could kiss him.
That had been a Saturday night.
Saturday nights were Alex’s favourite now, because not only did he get to kiss John on every single one, they could also spend the whole day together, out of town and away from prying eyes–just them.
That particular night, John had driven them outside the town and parked the car on a tall hill, overlooking the sea of lights that made up the entirety of their tiny world, and had sat the two of them on the hood of the car.
It was romantic.
It was even more romantic when Alex rubbed at his arms, suppressing a shiver from the slight cold his thin, ragged jacket couldn't keep out, and John shrugged off his own and wrapped it around his shoulders.
He shot him one of those smiles, the ones that were so soft and happy Alex still had trouble believing they really were for him, and leaned in to kiss him gently.
“Just tell me if it gets too cold, baby. I know you don’t like it. We can head back any time, okay?” he said and scooted a bit closer, raising his arm in invitation, and Alex immediately nestled himself into the offered embrace, warm and content just like that.
“I think I never want to head back,” he said and tilted his head up to kiss John’s cheek before he settled it on his shoulder.
John huffed a soft laugh and put another kiss to the top of his head, stroking a hand up and down his back; Alex could have purred with contentment.
“Yes, I know what you mean.”
They sat there for a long time, huddled close, and watched the lights–down in the world that didn’t want them–become fewer and fewer, as the ones dotting the inky sky overhead became more numerous with every minute that passed.
Nothing that good ever lasted, of course.
It was late at night on a Friday, hours after John had dropped him off around the corner to his house, when Alex’s father yelled for him to come downstairs.
“There’s someone here for you!” he called, and Alex almost fell off of his bed in his haste to sprint over to his door and turn the lock.
Fridays were supposed to be safe, dad only had his friends over on Saturday, and they never were there for him, they just liked to stare and mutter revolting things under their breaths, no one had ever come for him before-
“I swear to God, boy, if you don’t get your ass down here right this instant-” came the muffled threat only twenty seconds later, but Alex was frozen in terror a foot from the door.
“Who- who is it?” he called back, voice so shaky dad could probably hear his fear clear as day.
“Some boy, I don’t fucking know!”
And just like that, Alex could breathe again.
There was only one person who that could be–he did have some friends at school, but none of them knew where he lived.
He unlocked the door with shaking fingers and hurried down the stairs, steps light with relief, only to crash into a brick-wall of panic when he saw it was indeed John standing in the doorway-
And blood dripped from a nasty wound at his temple, trailed down to the line of his jaw, his bottom lip split and purpled and bloody.
His first thought was car-accident, his second was someone jumped him, someone knows.
Alex’s eyes roamed over the rest of him with panicked precision; he knew what to look for, after all, having hidden bruises himself quite often, and his gaze caught on the discoloured ring around John’s wrist.
Someone had held on there. Those were the ghosts of fingers.
Not an accident.
“Oh, my God,” he choked and almost fell over himself in his hurry to get to John. “What happened, Jesus Christ, is there more-” He reached up and softly cupped both his cheeks in his hands, at least trying to give him some comfort if there was nothing else he could do.
John let out a long breath and gripped both his wrists, thumb caressing his skin as he carefully lowered his hands from his face, answering his silent question with a meaningful glance over Alex’s shoulder.
Alex turned to see his father standing there, arms crossed in front of himself, one eyebrow raised.
“We’ll be upstairs,” he said and grabbed John’s hand, pulling him up the stairs with him.
He locked the door again, just to be safe, and sat them down on his narrow bed, pushing aside the simmering embarrassment at having John see his tiny, dirty room.
There was no time for ridiculous feelings like that; John was hurt.
"What happened? Who-"
"My father," he cut in, cloudy eyes fixed to both their hands that lay intertwined in his lap. "My father knows. About us."
Alex sat still as the world tilted on its axis and tipped away, throwing him into the abyss.
"What," he croaked, watched as though in a daze how John brought his other hand up and took Alex's between both of his, rubbing softly.
"He knows, sweetheart. I don't- don't know how. If he saw, if someone else saw, I don't- fuck," he broke off, blinking a few times in rapid succession, but the wetness gathered on his dark lashes despite his efforts.
Alex was freezing, a cold so severe and consuming he wasn’t sure even John’s jacket could chase it away. The only part of him that was warm was the hand clasped between both of John’s.
“D- does that mean- does that mean we can’t see each other any longer?” he forced off his tongue, throat tight and achy with tears at the mere idea.
John was the only good thing in his life, the only person who cared, who saw him as more than a dirty, poor boy, a nice smile in a pretty face with nothing behind it, a piece of fucking meat.
“What?” he said, a spark of alarm splitting the unsettling clouds in his eyes, and he let go of his hand, took his face between his palms instead. “No, no, Alex, baby, I won’t let that happen, I promise. I’ll find a way to protect you, sweetheart. To protect us. I promise.”
Alex sucked in a deep breath and attempted to calm himself.
John wouldn’t lie to him. He meant it.
“I love you,” he said, blinking the tears from his eyes, and softly wiped away the ones on John’s cheeks that fell on his next blink.
“I love you, too,” he mumbled back and leaned in to kiss him.
They had never done that inside before–they only kissed when they were out between farmland and forests, not another soul around for miles, or in the dark by the creek, or in John’s car before they headed back into town.
He hated that their first kiss like this tasted of John’s blood.
When they pulled apart again, Alex shook himself and focused on what really mattered right then–the dried blood caking the side of John’s face.
“How did that happen?” he asked, quiet, fingers ghosting along the red-brown trail.
John captured his wrist and pressed a kiss to his palm, then lowered that hand back down.
“Dad pushed me. I- I hit my head on- um. I don’t remember, actually. I know I hit my head. On something.” His eyes became increasingly unfocused as he spoke, and the fear that had been brewing at the back of Alex’s head this entire time became more real by the second.
“I think you’re concussed, John,” he said, and John nodded his head.
“Yeah. Yeah, that’s- probably.”
Alex swallowed and scooted a bit closer. “Did you drive here like this?”
Another shaken nod.
“Dad kicked me out for the night, I didn’t know where else- I’m sorry,” he said, the words trailing off and becoming quieter with every syllable. His eyes misted over once more, and the first sob broke from his throat before Alex had caught up to what was happening.
“No, John, it’s- it’s okay. You’re okay, it’ll be fine,” he cooed and gently wrapped his arms around John’s nape, pulling him into a comforting embrace. “You’re alright. I- I’ll stay up with you. We’ll stay up together, watch the stars-” Alex broke off and muffled his own desperate sob into the jacket John still wore.
They cried in each other’s arms for a long time, and the world kept turning around them, cold and cruel in its disinterest.
Dad slept until noon on the weekend, so John had left around ten, unnoticed–Alex had even kissed him goodbye right there in the living room and imagined, for a brief second, what it would be like to do that every day.
That idea had faded as he’d watched John’s car disappear around the corner, replaced by swirling thoughts of worry. John was off trying to smooth things over with his father, trying to find some way to appease him, make him think he had managed to beat the queer out of him after all so that they could keep seeing each other in secret.
Alex made an honest attempt to distract himself from his worries by curling up on his bed and reading one of the books he could have recited from memory already, but the peace didn’t last long.
His father pushed the door to his room open, a cigarette pinched into the corner of his mouth and a cup of coffee in hand.
“Have a nice night?” he said, grinning like the cat who got the cream, and Alex lowered his book, instantly suspicious.
“Guess so,” he replied, even though nothing could be further from the truth. John had kept nodding off, and every time Alex had had to shake him awake again, his panic had spiked higher.
“I hope you charge that boy good money, the brat oughta have it,” he said, leaning his shoulder to the door-frame, and took a long drag of his cigarette.
Alex blinked back at him in confusion, not quite following. “...charge him?”
His father barked a laugh, so sudden and loud, he couldn't keep from flinching.
“You better not be telling me you spread your legs for a Laurens without taking some of that family capital, boy.”
His stomach plummeted, and the bile rose up the throat, sour on his tongue.
“We- we’re friends,” he said, voice trembling, and cursed himself for the tears that shot to his eyes. “I’m not- I’m not a whore, dad.”
His father scoffed, all good humour gone like with the flick of a switch. “Rich boy like that? You can't honestly expect me to believe he actually likes you. What do you have to offer? No, don't lie to me, Alex." He blew the smoke through his nose and gestured his mug at him. "I don't mind you being a fag as long as it brings in some cash, boy, don't you worry." With that, he left, slamming the door behind himself.
Alex flinched violently and hugged the book to his chest, no longer able to suppress the tears welling in his eyes.
They left salty tracks on his cheeks and dripped from his chin, drew lines into the grime that covered him from head to toe, small little patches where he was pure.
The rest of him was stained with filth.
Alex wished he could crawl out of his skin and scrub away the layer of dirt hidden underneath, and he longed to hear his mother's voice again, just once, and he so desperately wanted to hide himself away in the circle of John's strong arms, even though he knew damn well someone like him didn't deserve the comfort.
“I have to find a girl, there’s no other way,” John said, staring down at the murmuring waters of the creek, blank.
Alex was next to him, huddled close as evening descended, the grass swaying around them.
A few slow heartbeats passed in silence, only interrupted by the whisper of the creek a few feet below where they sat.
“And use her?” Alex said, careful not to let his unease at that idea shine through.
John nodded, his jaw clenched.
“I don’t know what he’ll do if I don’t-” He breathed deeply, swallowing the rest of that sentence back down. “I need to protect us. Protect you. A girlfriend is the only way.”
Maybe it was selfish of him, but his heart seized at the thought of having to share John.
Alex didn’t voice that.
“Ask any girl out. She’ll fall at your feet,” he said instead with an unconvinced smile.
John huffed a hollow laugh and turned to look at him, finally–the bruising around his temple had spread and deepened into a network of violet and green and yellow and blue, and Alex suddenly wished anyone cared enough to notice when their fathers hurt them.
“Baby, I want you to remember that I only love you, even when I have to kiss someone else, okay?”
“Okay,” he croaked, even though it wasn’t okay at all; not that it mattered.
The first time John stepped into the schoolyard with Patty Manning on his arm, about half the students lost their goddamn minds, not that either of them noticed.
Alex sat with Gil under a tree, sheltered from the sun, and thoughtfully chewed on the half of Gil’s sandwich he ‘just couldn’t finish’. They both knew Alex's pride wouldn’t allow him to take it if the reason Gil gave was ‘you don’t have any lunch and you look hungry’.
“What the fuck is that?” he said, eyes locked to John’s incredibly fake but nonetheless blinding smile. “I thought he was- I thought the two of you-”
“Say it a little louder for the people in the back,” he hissed, but immediately felt bad. Gil was a good guy, and he didn’t deserve to be bitched at like this. “We are,” he went on, lower. “Just. John’s father beat the shit out of him the other day. Because of me.”
"Oh." Gil swallowed, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. "He told me those bruises happened when he tried to get something heavy off a high shelf," he mumbled, dark eyes downturned.
"No. Those were my fault," Alex said, throat closing up around that truth he hadn't dared voice yet.
He knew it would be safer for John to walk away from him–he was just too selfish to encourage him to do so.
"Alex-" Gil began, but just then John wrapped his arm around the shoulders of a wildly blushing Patty, and Alex knew the weight of that arm across his shoulders, knew how warm it was, how safe, and he just couldn't take watching John treat someone else like he treated him.
His mouth curled at the corners, but through sheer power of will, he managed to keep his features from crumbling into the sob that clawed its way up his throat.
Alex took two large bites of sandwich and stared down into his lap, only vaguely aware of Gil's saddened sigh as he watched him try not to break down crying in the middle of lunch.
Patty took up a lot of John’s time.
Alex… understood. It had to be this way, John needed to put work into the relationship in order to keep her around, he needed to play the loving, attentive boyfriend, needed to take her out and be seen with her around town to fool his father.
He still hated it.
It used to be just the two of them, before, every day after school; sometimes Gil would come along, but usually it was just John and Alex.
The first week was the hardest.
John kept glancing over at him when Patty’s back was turned, the silent longing so clear in his beautiful hazel eyes, both of them painfully aware that he had another role to play now.
But even if they could have spent some time together, they wouldn't have. John’s father was watching, and he knew about Alex, specifically. Not that his son had been fooling around with some boy, he knew his name, his face, and Alex didn’t want to think about what Henry Laurens would do to John if he caught them together so soon into that new perfectly normal relationship he had begun.
So. Alex had no other choice than hang around the- the happy couple at school. It was the only way they could keep seeing each other during the week, and that real, blinding smile John flashed him every time he sidled up to them was well worth both the risk and Patty’s annoyed eye-roll.
Patty… didn’t like him. That was no surprise to Alex; there wasn’t a lot to like about him, after all. Most girls liked him for his pretty smile and smooth talking, but in her mind, Patty was taken, so she was unreceptive to his charms.
Well enough, he supposed. It was easier to bear her silent disdain than her friendship–that way, he didn’t have to get too close, too involved, and he could pretend that what he and John were doing to her didn’t bother him as much.
Alex hated summer-break.
Always had, and always would–school gave him something to do, something to focus on, a reason to leave the house every day for hours and hours on end.
This year, his father was between jobs again, set on drinking away their savings, and Alex couldn't- he just couldn’t stay in that house with him, he needed something to occupy him, some reason to leave every day that wasn’t just ‘I don’t want to be around you’ because then dad would get upset, and he would yell, and hit him, and lock him in his room again-
The solution to that predicament presented itself on the last day of school in form of his English teacher, Mister Washington. Of course Alex had known him as just ‘George’ growing up, but that seemed so long ago now, back when his mother had been alive, when his brother hadn’t fucked off yet and left him to rot with their father, when they’d been a real family, sometimes.
George was an old friend of his mother, and when he pulled him aside to ask if he had any plans for the summer, low and soft and with that concerned expression in his eyes that told Alex he knew exactly what he was asking, he’d had no qualms admitting that no. He didn’t.
And that was how he ended up with a summer-job, of sorts, helping out around his family’s farm.
George would even pick him up and drop him back off every day, and feed him–you know how Martha is, she can’t possibly let you slave away all day and send you home with an empty stomach–and pay him on top of that.
Alex knew he wouldn’t see that money, of course, as his father would be sure to confiscate it, but that didn’t really matter to him. He would have a place to go for five days a week, after sunset he could trek out to the creek to meet John, and weekends would be spent with him in their entirety.
Perhaps summer-break wouldn’t be so bad this time around.
“You’re working for who?” his father spat as he popped open another can of beer, not even looking at him.
Alex swallowed, one foot already on the first step of the stairs, ready to make a run for it.
“George Washington,” he repeated and cleared his throat. “But he pays me, dad! I thought we needed the money.”
His father scoffed and took a swig of beer. “I’d rather you whore yourself out than work for that man. Fucked your whore of a mother, that’s the only reason he’s got any interest in you.”
He bit down on his wobbling lower lip and blinked the sudden tears from his eyes.
“We need the money,” he choked and bounded up the stairs, whatever answer his father gave lost to his pounding footfalls.
It wasn’t true. His mother hadn’t been unfaithful, never, they had been friends, and George cared about him because he was a good man, not because-
But maybe dad was right. No one but John had ever really cared for Alex.
Who knew what George saw when he looked at him–maybe his mother. Maybe a charity-case.
Maybe just a piece of meat, like everyone else.
He met John at the creek most nights, even though the farmwork tired him out good.
It was the only time together they got these days, without school, and he would be damned to miss out on it.
That night, John waited for him with an ear to ear smile, but just as Alex was about to ask where that unusual elation came from, John yanked him into his arms and twirled him into a dip before he dragged him back up and kissed him soundly.
Alex giggled into the kiss and pulled John in for another before he could move back, his heart full and happy like it hadn’t been in a long time.
“What’s going on with you, then?” he asked at last, and John chuckled, leaned his forehead against his, and nuzzled their noses together playfully.
Alex could have flowed apart if not for the strong arms keeping him together.
“Ah, well, I’m planning something,” he said, which was not helpful in any way at all.
“And are you going to tell me what, or-” he broke off with an undignified squeak when John yanked him close again and they ended up chest to chest and thighs to thighs.
“Well…” he began, voice low in a way that made him shiver, even though he wasn’t entirely sure why. “It’s a surprise. On an unrelated note, do you think Washington would let you off this Friday?”
Alex blinked back at him, wondering how unrelated that note really was to whatever John had planned.
“I mean, probably. I don’t think he really needs me, anyway, he’s just doing me a favour.”
“Perfect. On another unrelated note that has nothing at all to do with anything, do you think your father would miss you too much if you stayed out from Friday to Sunday?”
"The man drinks until he can't see straight on the weekends. I don't think he would even notice.” he replied, and John’s brilliant smile slipped.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I-"
"No," Alex cut in softly and poked John's cheek, a bit pouty. "Bring the smile back."
John snorted a laugh and kissed him once, paying no heed to Alex's unhappy whine when he pulled away again, and then there were steady hands around his waist and a sensation like falling in his belly when the world tipped away.
He made another very undignified sound in his throat and scrambled to grab onto something-
His hands clamped down on John’s shoulders, and both of them ended up on the ground, Alex flat on his back, the controlled fall John had initiated softened by the grass.
John hovered above him, dark, intense gaze thoughtful in a suddenly serious face, the canvas of the starry sky behind him, and for a moment, it was like there was nothing but them in the world.
Alex blinked up at him, a fluttery feeling in his belly that had absolutely nothing to do with being swept off his feet like that.
The urge to kiss him was so strong his body acted on it of its own accord, hands sliding from those broad shoulders up into his loose ponytail, pulling him down into a soft kiss that did nothing to scratch that sudden itch. He whined in his throat and didn’t let John pull back, wrapped his arms around his nape, and parted his lips.
John licked into his mouth, and that did a lot more to satisfy this odd new urge, even though the kiss broke after just another moment.
“Well,” John breathed, blinking down at him, an unfamiliar haze slowly lifting from his eyes. He cleared his throat. Alex just stared in wonder. “Um. Do you like fish?”
Alex frowned back up at his- lover? ...boyfriend? Oh, what he wouldn’t give to call John his boyfriend-
“The animal?” he said, thrown for a complete loop. Hadn’t they just been kissing or had he imagined that?
“Uh, the food, but same difference,” he said with a lopsided grin and put a quick kiss to his forehead.
“I… guess so? I haven’t really had any since my mother-” he broke off, his throat too tight to go on.
“Aww, baby. I’m sorry.” John kissed his brow and rolled over, dropping himself into the grass at Alex’s side.
“Don’t be. It was long ago.” He waited a few seconds for the tears to subside before he went on, “So. Fish? I don’t suppose that has anything to do with your surprise.”
“Nothing at all,” he responded with a sweet smile, and Alex huffed a laugh and rolled over onto his side so they were face to face, tucking his elbow under his head so he wouldn’t get a mouthful of grass-stalks.
“Are you not even going to give me a hint?” He put on his best wide-eyed pout, delighting in John’s low chuckle and the soft adoration in his eyes, clearly visible even in the dark around them.
“No, baby. You’ll just have to wait three days and see.”
Alex huffed in mock offense. “Rude.”
“Is there anything I can do to appease my baby?” John asked with a grin that spelled out how not sorry he was in neon letters, and Alex tried to keep his expression of mild disdain, but that goddamn smile was just too contagious.
“I want a kiss,” he demanded, and John brought a hand up to his face, cupped his cheek, and dragged the pad of his thumb across his bottom lip–warmth coiled in his belly, but Alex pushed it aside, not ready to deal with that new thing yet.
“With pleasure.”
John’s lips covered his, soft and familiar, but they were gone all too soon.
“No,” Alex said and tilted his head up in invitation. “Again. More.”
“Damn,” John muttered under his breath and hesitated for only another second before he leaned back in. “Your wish is my command.”
Alex giggled into the kiss, for once feeling like he was exactly where he was supposed to be.
The thing Alex liked best about summer-break was probably that he didn’t have to bear witness to Patty hanging off of John’s arm every single day, staring up at him like she thought him the best thing since sliced bread.
Alex tried not to be too petty most times; he failed, usually. Because John was his, and no one but him had any business looking at him like that.
The thing Alex liked second best about summer-break was, oddly, the farmwork.
It was exhausting, but left him with a sense of accomplishment at the end of the day, and- and everyone was just so kind to him.
He spent the most time with George, of course, as he was basically just doing whatever George was doing, and he always smiled at him, and ruffled his hair, and told him good job, son, and never once did he yell at him.
Sometimes, Jack–George’s son, home from college for the summer–joined them, and then it almost felt like Alex had a family again.
He tried not to get too comfortable, because he knew it was temporary, but sometimes, he just couldn’t help but turn his brain off and pretend for a few short moments that this was his life.
That he had two parents who never yelled at each other, a brother who hadn’t left him alone the first chance he got, a sister, even, and they all lived in a nice house with windows that closed properly and kept the cold out, and animals that weren’t cockroaches, and that there were no bruises or fear or harsh words in his life at all.
Sometimes… he pretended that his father was right.
That mom and George really did have that affair, and that Alex wasn’t James Hamilton’s.
And then he would look into the mirror and see his father’s nose sitting under his mother’s eyes in his stupid face, flop down into his bed, and wonder what crime he had committed to deserve having been born as Alexander Hamilton.
He knew George probably wouldn’t mind giving him a day off, but Alex still procrastinated on asking until the car rolled to a stop in front of Alex’s house, and George had put it in park.
Usually, he would thank him for the ride now and remove himself from the car as quickly as possible, not wanting to waste even more of the man’s time than he already had, but today he remained seated, his tongue in knots against the roof of his mouth.
Would he think him ungrateful? If he asked for a day off, would George think he was lazy and didn’t appreciate what he was doing for him?
“Alexander? Are you alright?”
Alex snapped his head around and regarded George from wide eyes; his tensed shoulders relaxed a bit when he saw the genuine concern reflected in his gaze.
Surely he wouldn’t be mad at him for asking?
“Um, George, I- I was meaning to ask-” he began before he could think better of it, a bit surprised when the man didn’t interrupt him to mock him for his nervous stutter, even though he knew George would never do that. “I… was wondering if I could maybe have this Friday off? I can work longer tomorrow and the day after to make up the hours-”
“Alexander,” he cut in gently. “Of course you can. No need to stay longer, this is not contract work, it’s all fine.”
“Oh,” he breathed, all the tension leaving him with that anticlimactic solution. “Thank you.”
“Of course, son. Right, before you’re off, let me just-” Alex sat and watched in confusion as George fumbled out his wallet and pulled a crisp five dollar bill from the compartment. “Here. For Friday.”
He blinked down at the offered note, uncomprehending.
“You… just gave me Friday off.”
“For a reason, I presume?” he said with raised brows and reached out to carefully take his hand, then pressed the money into his palm. Alex shook his head, eyes wide, and made a weak attempt to hand it back.
“What? I can’t-”
“Alexander,” he said, a hint of authority in his voice now, and Alex clicked his mouth shut. George took his still outstretched hand between both of his rough palms and gently curled Alex’s finger closed over the bill. “Please. I’m not stupid, young man, I know what I pay you goes straight to your father. This is for you. Have a good time and stay safe, son.”
“Oh,” he croaked and blinked a few times, fought not to let the tears overwhelm him. “I- thank you. Thank you, Sir-”
“There’s a good lad,” he interrupted softly and ruffled a careful hand through Alex’s hair, and Alex wondered in a sudden bout of jealousy if this was what life was always like for Jack.
Wondered why some people had fathers like George, fathers who cared, who loved them, while Alex was stuck with James Hamilton.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you, George,” he said, doing his best to keep the breakdown in until he was safely in his room. “Really. You’re always so kind to me.”
The look George gave him at that, a bit sad but mostly compassionate, communicated ‘someone has to be’ better than words ever could have.
“You’re very welcome, my boy,” he said, and Alex drew a deep breath and unbuckled his seatbelt.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” George agreed and waited for him to climb out and give him a last hesitant smile before he drove off.
Alex remained for a moment, the money clutched to his chest, and his eyes wet with tears.
“You are a very bright boy, Alexander,” George said as he handed him a glass of water. He braced his forearms against the rail that fenced off the back-porch, staring off into the distance, beyond the horses peacefully grazing in the fields below, beyond the river at the line of the horizon, even.
Alex ducked his head, embarrassed. “Thank you,” he mumbled and took a sip of water.
George hummed. His gaze dropped first to his own hands, then rose back up to meet Alex’s.
“You’re wasted here.”
“I- what?” he asked, caught too off guard for anything more eloquent.
“A smart boy like you in a small town like this, it’s wasteful. You could make something of yourself, Alexander.”
“Y- you think so?”
“Of course. Coming from the man who grades all your English assignments, you have an extraordinary way with words,” he said, and Alex shook his head out of reflex, because his words were nothing special. Everyone had words. “No, don’t do that, don’t discredit yourself. You’re a top student in your grade, you know that?”
“...no,” he admitted quietly and set his glass down on the windowsill at their backs. “Why are you telling me this?”
No one had ever told Alex he could make something of himself. He was destined for nothing more than an underwhelming life in the poorer part of town, like both his parents before him had been.
George paused and swept that steely gaze over the whole length of his body before he answered, appraising. Alex did his best not to fidget.
“Because… when school starts back up, and you put in the work, you could finish a year early. That would look great on any college application–and, son, I am dead serious when I say that you could get into a good college. Maybe even on a scholarship. Ivy league, far away from this town.” He heaved a sigh, mumbling under his breath, “Far away from your father.”
Alex stared, speechless.
He had never seriously considered leaving this town–it hadn’t been very kind to him, and he wasn’t too attached, but it was all he knew. Someone like him making a better life for themselves, leaving it all behind and making it big, that was a thing of storybooks, and nothing more.
Real life was too cruel to allow for something like that.
And he was just Alex. Good for nothing Alex Hamilton, who would surely end up as a drunkard just like his father.
George sighed once more, heavy and tired, and shot him a lopsided smile. “Think about it, son. Me, I’m a simple man, and I’m happy with the simple life this town has to offer. You are made for something more.”
...made for something more?
More than this? More than this town? More than this life? Alex?
“Are you sure, Sir?” he said, his brow furrowed, hands fidgeting at his sides.
“I am absolutely certain, Alexander,” he replied, eyes soft and honest.
Alex didn’t say anything else, too swept up in the hurricane of thoughts George had spun into existence behind his forehead.
Alex left the house Friday morning as he usually would, not having said a word to his father about where he was really going.
Well. Not that he could have, because he still didn’t actually know where he was going–John hadn’t lost another word about it, no matter how much Alex had whined and begged.
John’s car was already parked at the curb around the corner, and Alex nearly skipped over and threw himself into the passenger side, wishing he could give in to the urge to lean over the stick-shift and kiss him hello.
“Hey, baby,” John said, that beautiful smile curling his lips, his eyes calm and happy, and Alex thought it a crime that he couldn’t kiss him right then.
“Hey,” he responded and buckled himself in with practised movements, then turned to John expectantly when he shifted the gear and pulled into the street. “So, where are we going?”
John chuckled and shook his head fondly, but his eyes stayed on the road.
“You’ll see, sweetheart,” he said, and Alex sighed and slumped back into his seat with all the drama he could muster.
“Fine. How long are we driving, then?”
“Ah, about two and a half hours if I don’t break any laws.”
Alex snorted a laugh, watching the traffic around them; typical morning rush, but it would lessen once they got out of town and on the freeway.
“And how long is the drive for a lawless man of the road?”
“About half,” he said, so casual Alex had no doubt that he had actually made that time before.
“John Laurens, I am scandalised. One day you’ll be stopped by the police, and what then?” he said, teasing. In truth, he couldn’t care less, as long as John stayed safe.
“Then I say ‘Hi, Uncle Jim, how’s Aunt Ruth?’”
“Ugh. I keep forgetting your father owns those bastards basically.”
“The man’s an asshole,” he said with a shrug, the unburdened smile slipping, and Alex reached over and squeezed John’s hand that rested loosely on the stick-shift. “But having his name pays off sometimes.” A beat of silence passed, and John swallowed. He clicked on the radio, the static rustle giving way to… something that sounded like Elvis, Alex thought, after only a few moments. “Let’s not talk about him.”
Alex nodded and hit himself internally for having brought him up in the first place, when a warm hand settled softly on his thigh and gave a solid squeeze.
John had never done that before, but somehow Alex understood it perfectly, anyway, and he relaxed back into the seat.
The last thirty minutes of their journey took them through a little-travelled stretch of forest, and Alex raised an eyebrow when John turned onto a seemingly random gravel-path that led deeper into the woods.
“You are not going to kill me, are you?” he said dryly, and John snorted.
“No, baby, I’m not planning on it.”
“Very reassuring.”
They pulled up in front of a relatively large wooden cabin, and Alex just sat and blinked at the empty window-boxes and black-tiled roof as John parked the car and cut the engine.
“Here we are!” John said, the enthusiasm that had died down over the duration of the drive perking right back up.
Alex stared for a moment longer.
That cabin was the size of the house he lived in, always. And it was in the middle of nowhere, obviously not intended for always, but rather for sometimes.
“We used to spend a lot of weekends here during the summer, years ago now, back when my mother- you know? But we haven’t been back here since, my father can’t stand the sight of it, it reminds him too much of her. So, I thought… he’s on a two-week business-trip over by the coast, why not make an occasion of it?” he rambled away and unbuckled his seatbelt, pushed the door open, and jumped out of the car.
Alex scrambled to follow, silent, just… at a loss as to what to say.
“It’s just been empty for years?” he asked and rounded the car, stepping up to John’s side.
“Yup. But don’t worry, I’ve been up here a couple times, cleaned the place up, stocked the fridge- um, Alex? Are you okay, baby?”
John watched him with concern, and Alex glanced between him and the cabin a few times.
“You- you drove up here… multiple times… for me?”
“Of course,” he responded, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and not the most effort anyone had ever put in for him. “This is what I’ve been doing the past week, cleaning up around here and marathon-cooking at home with Patsy so that the kids will have enough food in the freezer to survive while I’m gone. I had a bit of trouble with Martha, but she lets me get away with all kinds of bullshit as long as I look pretty and bring her flowers.”
Alex bit his tongue and looked away at the mention of Patty. He tended to forget about her these days, when it was just him and John again, and this reminder that she was still very much there and probably saw a lot more of John than he did, put a bitter taste on his tongue.
“You never bring me flowers,” he said, an incredibly poor attempt at a joke, but at least he’d tried.
John watched him from narrowed eyes and pursed his lips, then turned on his heel and strode over to the edge of the cleared space around the cabin.
He came back with a single white flower between his fingers and mumbled at him to stay still before he tucked it behind Alex’s ear just like that.
“There. A flower for my flower,” he said, grinning from ear to ear, and Alex couldn’t help but laugh; he was ridiculous, and Lord, he loved him so much. “Come on, baby, let me show you around. There’s not a lot to do, to be honest, but I thought, well… we really didn’t have a lot of time together lately, so-” he trailed off, glancing at him a bit sheepishly, a hint of vulnerability in his expression, and it hit Alex like a fist to the face that he hadn’t been very appreciative yet at all of the sheer effort he had put in.
This was amazingly thoughtful, the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for him, and Alex was almost certain that he would cry a little once the reality of the situation had set in properly.
He drew a breath and bridged the couple feet of distance between them with quick strides, almost jumped into John’s arms, he was so desperate to kiss him, and smashed their lips together with more hunger than he had ever dared before. A little thrill stirred in the pit of his stomach at being so bold, kissing him out in broad daylight like this, and he deepened the kiss even more.
“Thank you,” he said when they separated, John staring down at him from eyes wide with surprise and dark with something else. “So much. This is- you’re amazing, John. I love you.”
“Love you, too, baby,” he rasped and cleared his throat. “Alright. Let me show you the accommodations.”
John took him by the hand and pulled him along into the cabin, and Alex pressed close and laid his free hand across John’s bicep, allowing himself a short moment of triumph over a girl who didn’t even know she was competition.
The accommodations turned out to include a fully stocked kitchen, an open living room area with an honest to God fireplace John had promised they could use tonight even though it was still very much summer, a full-sized bathroom, and three bedrooms, including the master bedroom with an ensuite.
Alex felt like he was going to explode.
But the best part was without question that they were alone. In the middle of the woods, not a single soul around, no neighbours, nothing.
They were alone, and they could kiss and enjoy each other all they wanted, wherever they felt like it, without worry.
The day flew by in a flurry of easy and plenty affection, deep or silly conversations, and a whole bunch of cooking.
Lunch was noodles because that was quick and uncomplicated, and dinner was, of course, fish. John had to coach him a lot for that, as Alex’s cooking skills had hitherto barely been enough to fry an egg.
It… was a lot more fun than he’d expected; especially when John pressed up behind him and flattened his big hands over his hips, softly kissing along his neck as Alex did his best to focus on stirring the sauce.
Evening fell far quicker than Alex would have thought, and after only a mild amount of nagging, John had given in with a fond sigh and gotten a little fire going for him.
Alex expressed his thanks by climbing into John’s lap and kissing him, soft and slow.
After a while, John whispered for him to let him up for a second, and he reluctantly slid off him, pouting until he pressed another kiss to his lips before he got up.
He returned not a minute later with a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other, winking at him as he sat back down and uncorked the bottle with swift movements.
Alex watched, curious and a bit nervous at the same time. He’d never had alcohol before, and a small part of his consciousness wondered if John- if he would become mean like his father did when he drank.
But John only filled the glasses halfway and pulled Alex back into his arms, putting a kiss to his hair.
No, Alex thought to himself, John was far too sweet for the alcohol to change him. It would be fine.
He eased himself into the drink slowly, taking small, sporadic sips–the wine wasn’t as fruity as he would have thought, but he found the taste quite pleasant, anyway.
They just cuddled and talked on the sofa for a great part, John’s hands stroking softly along his body, Alex’s head pillowed on his chest.
The unfamiliar room was bathed in the soft glow of the fireplace, and Alex felt at home even though he hadn’t even known about the place twelve hours ago.
It was John, probably. His scent, his touch, his low, smooth voice–he was Alex’s home.
“Have you ever thought about just running away?” Alex said, his fingers drawing patterns into John’s shirt, just over his ribs.
The hand on his back stilled. “Running away?”
Alex hummed. “Yeah. We could run away together, and then it could always be like this.”
His chest rose in a slow in- and exhale, and the hand fell back into motion.
“Go where? And do what?” he said, an odd tone to his voice. Alex didn’t recognise it, but that could have been the alcohol making him a bit slower than usual.
“Go anywhere. Do anything,” he responded and pressed a kiss to John’s clothed chest. “Just. You and I. Finding a better life, far away from here.”
“...Alex. I- I don’t know if I can ever leave here. You know I’m supposed to take over the firm when my father retires, and my siblings- I can’t leave them alone with him.”
Alex’s breath stuck in his throat, and the air still trapped in his lungs solidified into a heavy clump, like steel in his ribcage.
Ever since George had said he could leave this town behind, he hadn’t been quite able to get that idea out of his head, but he had always just assumed John would be at his side when he did–he couldn’t truly want to stay there, after all, he had just as much reason to leave as Alex did.
It had never once crossed his mind that there was a possibility John would want to remain.
He pushed himself up until he could look John in the eyes.
“I don’t know if I can stay here,” he admitted in a near whisper, but it still sounded too loud to his ears, too heavy, like the crack of a bell in an empty church.
John stared at him, opened his mouth, closed it again, silent pain in his eyes.
“Can we not do this right now, baby? Can we- can we talk about this some other time?” he said, the plea so clear in his words, and Alex nodded.
He laid his head back down where it had been, curled into John’s chest so he wouldn’t see the tears in his eyes.
“I love you,” he forced past the lump in his throat, and John wrapped his arms around him, held him like he never wanted to let go.
“I love you, too, sweetheart.”
Alex watched the flames dance along the crackling wood as they clung to each other, wondering silently if that was what would happen to them as well.