Chapter Text
Alexander woke up to the feeling of yet another painful line scorching along his back, causing his insides to turn and ache in pain. The dull realisation that his ‘soulmate’ is writhing in a pit of hell hits him through his fleeting moment of exhaustion, causing him to fully awaken. It startles him, just how much pain he’s feeling. Not only because it's him that’s feeling the agony thrumming through his entire body, but also because he’s only ever felt this level of pain one other time. Alexander, not sure what to do, decided to take a shower before heading to class.
As he gathered his change of clothes, he noticed that Laurens’ bed was very much empty, confusing him. Though it wasn’t uncommon for him to spend the night at their mutual friend Lafayette’s dorm, he usually gave Alexander some sort of warning or heads up. Shrugging it off, he hurried over to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. Carefully vesting his thin layers of clothing, he quickly turned on the shower. Alex let out an ungodly squeak in surprise as the cold water tickled his skin, quickly turning the knob to hot. Somehow, he managed to do this every single day and still never learned.
The steaming hot water washed over him, giving him comfort even as yet another wave of excruciating pain coursed through him. God, this soulmate was going to be the death of him. After completing an extensive hair routine, complete with two shampoos, a conditioner, leave-in, and oil, he finally exited the shower with a towel wrapped around his waist. Quickly brushing his teeth and pulling on the random clothes he’d prepared earlier (a grey pair of sweatpants and a green hoodie), he exited the dorm in just fifteen minutes. He checked the time on his phone before shooting a text to John.
aleXfactor yo john, imma head to lit, thought i should tell you
As he waited for a reply, he slowly walked over to the elevator. He was halfway to Lecture Hall before he received a text from his friend.
jackky: oh yeah
jackky: srry i was helping laf with something but i got called in
aleXfactor oh okay no worries
Alexander entered Lecture Hall, feeling the cold, stale air hit him. A quick scan of the room let his eyes fall on Elizabeth Schuyler and Maria Lewis, two of his closest friends. He watches them laugh, then slowly approaches the seat next to them, with Eliza to his right. Hearing only snippets of their conversation before he sits down, he asks Maria to repeat the joke. Apparently, they were talking about how one of the new girls, Catherine Parr, was yelling about feminism in their ethics class a few days ago. Catherine was typically soft spoken, so it came as a shock when she started spewing things about how unfair the world’s education system was to women back then and how they ‘didn’t really improve’.
He chuckled as he set his bags down, recalling a conversation he had with Catherine just a week earlier. The two were fighting over the last coffee pod and things got inadvertently aggressive — thankfully, it was only words. It was clear that she was one of the more eloquent people in the school, but was more than happy to stay on the sidelines. Still, when she became passionate on a topic, she gave it her all. Alexander could relate in some ways more than others.
A few minutes later, Ben Franklin, their Literature professor sauntered into the classroom with a satchel hanging by his side and wide-brimmed fedora on his head. As he scrupulously drew out their newest unit, Sylvia Plath and Her Effects on Poetry, Alexander couldn’t help but notice the dead air that surrounds them. It made the class feel empty, bare. It felt as though all the enjoyment and energy had been sucked out from the hall, leaving an He told Eliza as much, his voice in a low whisper to not attract Mr Franklin’s attention. With nothing but a curt nod, she gave him a look that meant they’d resume their conversation later—preferrably not while the professor is instructing. Alexander stuck out his tongue in response, but pulled his gaze back to the board.
As Franklin began to prattle on about Sylvia Plath, Alexander couldn’t help but feel his attention draw into her gut-wrenching story. Even from a young age, she was suicidal; tried to off herself on more than one occassion. Then one day, the then-thirty-year-old woman managed to actually do it—stuck her head into an oven of all things. Throughout her life she was lonely, hurt, and just overall a mess. And yet, she wrote poetry, poetry of all things, as her medium of self-expression. Feeling more impressed by the minute, the class drew more quiet and dead, the only noise being Franklin’s voice echoing around the hall.
“Turn to page 16 in the books that,” the man paused, looking around the front row, “Mr. James Reynolds will be passing out.”
Reynolds groaned audibly, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the stack of thin, short books that Mr. Franklin gestured towards. In a manner that was all but quiet, he aggressively placed a book on each table, making sure to emphasise it on those he didn’t like. When Reynolds finally reached the three of them, he slammed it in front of Alexander, who gave him an annoyed eye roll. As he approached Eliza, he gave her a flirtatious wink — a sentiment she did not return, might I add — before shoving the book towards her. And then there was Maria.
Maria, for quite a long time now, has been subject to James’ taunts and bullying. Ever since the two met in high school, he’s been giving her suggestive and at some points, downright dirty looks and comments. Reynolds had no issue expressing his…attraction to her. He would — as intimidatingly as he could — call her out on the way she dressed and told her that she was practically ‘asking to be fucked with how short that skirt is’. He’d done it so often that there’s a rumour going around that the two are dating, but only Alexander and Eliza know what’s truly going on. Today, Alexander reflected, today he was hoping that he wouldn’t have to deal with Reynolds’ bullshit.
But, alas, the universe must be out to get him because James decided to make a prolonged stay at Maria’s seat, causing her to squirm nervously in her chair. She chanced a look at her friends, only gaining a dissatisfied glare from the man looming above her. He gently set the book down on the table, a stark contrast from the slamming and shoving that went on mere seconds ago. He flashed her a near predatory grin before walking over to the next row. Alexander swore under his breath when he saw that the whole exchange caused Maria enough fear to begin shaking, her breathing quickly turning erratic.
“Stay with me ‘Ria,” Eliza’s voice soft as she grabbed the other woman’s hand, her thumb rubbing circles against the back of her palm, “deep breaths, just like we practised.” Slowly, though with Eliza’s help, her breathing began to slow; her shaking came to a heed at some point as well. Once she had ensured her friend was okay, Eliza turned to Alexander with a strained smile. “So, what did you want to tell me?”
“Ah, well, I hardly think it’s appropriate anymore,” he paused, only continuing when Eliza waved her hand dismissively—she never did care about propriety, did she?—gesturing for him to go on, “but the class. Doesn’t it feel, I don’t know, empty? Quiet?”
Eliza shrugged, before turning to look at her classmates, mentally checking it against the class roster. “I mean,” she paused, counting off the people, “just Laf, Jefferson, and Madison are gone today.”
Jefferson and Madison gone? That surely wasn’t a coincidence; and he told her as much.
All she offered was yet another shrug before turning to smirk at the man, “Is this your roundabout way of saying you miss them?”
“Hardly.” he huffed, “just making connections is all.”
Eliza gave him a knowing look, then turned back to the assignment at hand. The three silently took notes as the read along with the book, which happened to be a complete set of Plath’s poetry. It wasn’t long before Franklin was all but forcing them out the door, bringing his unmistakable impatience to light.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Eliza said as the part ways, holding Maria’s hand as Alexander slowly drifted in the opposite direction.
“That’s the plan,” he said with a short nod.
And with that, the two disappeared in the flood of people, leaving Alexander to walk alone to his ‘Politics & American History’ course. Usually, Laf would accompany him to the class, but today was proving to be all but usual. He could not, for the life of him, understand what was so important that Laf, Jefferson, and Madison had to be absent. Alexander wasn’t stupid, he knew that they were all — well, at least, Jefferson is with Laf and Madison — good friends, and that they were probably somewhere together. Jefferson has supposedly been friends with both of them since highschool. Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson, was their school ambassador, and was recommended for the school’s foreign exchange program (or so Drunk Laf tells him). His exchange-family happened to be none other than Marc Gilbert De Lafayette.
The two became fast friends, the similarities not only in appearance, but also in interests were quite heavy. They were both heavy readers, loved learning new languages, had a penchant for art, and shared amusement with politics. It’s actually quite funny, Alexander enjoys each of those things, and so it was their mutual friendship with Laf that had encouraged their meeting. Though, the minute he shook Jefferson’s hand, he knew he was a pretentious, stuck-up bastard; certainly not friend-worthy. Laf was confused why they weren’t getting along, to which Alexander countered with ‘how can you get along with him’. Later, Laf simply said that Jefferson was his friend, and he was sticking to it. It’s hardly as though Alexander could control who Laf was friends with, seeing as how he himself was a much newer friend in comparison to Jefferson.
He shook away his thoughts the minute he entered the room, taking his bag and settling into a chair in the second row. Close enough to look as eager to learn as he felt, while also staying far enough that Washington’s shouts don’t make his ears bleed. As the aforementioned man walked in front of his desk, Alexander could feel the intimidation radiating off of him.
“Good morning,” he started, glancing in Alexander’s direction, “many of you have not submitted your speeches, so we will be working on that today.”
Under his piercing gaze, Alexander felt his mouth go dry. See, he had finished the speech the day it had been assigned, though not without many errors and corrections. And well, he had forgotten about it. Simple as that. Yet, he was one of, if not, Washington’s favourite students; he’s supposed to be setting an example, not falling behind. Washington’s daily announcement was more or less a warning.
“You will also be getting your debate partners, who you will have to work with — or against — for the rest of the semester.”
As soon as Washington’s words reached Alexander’s ears, he was off, thinking of all the possibilities. He definitely wanted Lafayette to be his debate partner, but judging by the near glare Mr. Washington gave him, he wasn’t too sure about his chances.
Speaking of Laf, he was beginning to long for the Frenchman's warmth, or any kind of social contact really. Soon, he found himself scanning over the classroom for a friend to talk to. Just a few moments later, he paused over the two noticeably empty seats in the back row. Madison and Jefferson’s. He scowled, ‘cause of course the two wouldn’t have bothered to come to Washington’s class. Jefferson especially — probably convinced that he was too good for the class, and that he didn’t need to go. How very typical of him. Alexander scowled involuntarily, but couldn’t shake the empty feeling in his head.
It wasn’t like he missed him or anything, none of that sort. It was quite the opposite, really; the class was so bare without his incessant chatter and arguing. Yes, Alexander hated the man with enough passion to burn out a thousand suns, but he felt incomplete without their daily disputes. As much as it pained him to admit it, Jefferson was the first person he had ever met that was as quick-witted and sharp as he was. Not even Aaron Burr, Burr the supposed prodigy could win a debate against him. He’d usually deflect or stand neutrally within the entire argument. At least Jefferson had a bit of argumentativeness; Burr had none.
Alexander quickly shuffled through his notes before finally reaching the one that had his speech outline. He reached down for his bag and pulled out his laptop, quickly typing in the password before pulling up his speech in Google Docs. As he typed down the outline so as to not forget every detail he’d previously written, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with his soulmate. The aching feeling had subsided, but was starting to re-emerge. He clutched his ribs, feeling a new burning sensation ripping him apart. Jaw clenched, he hastily typed the rest of the outline before walking up to Washington’s desk.
“Sir, can I-'' he groaned in pain as the burning sensation intensified, “I- I need to go, please. My soulm- my soulmate is making things really uncomfortable for me right now.”
Washington eyed him warily before nodding swiftly, “Yes, of course.” Alexander took a few steps before he heard Washington call for him again. Turning with extreme carefulness, he winced before looking at the professor. “Ah, before you leave, your partner is…” he paused, flipping through his binder until he saw the crisp, laminated sheet he was looking for, “Jefferson, Thomas.”
Alexander couldn’t hold back his grimace as he heard the name. Washington must have interpreted it as being caused by the ache in his side, seeing as how he urged the tiny man out the door.
Not knowing where to go, Alexander pulled out his phone from his back pocket, opening up his messages with John.
aleXfactor: is it okay if i come over? Im tired and in pain
jackky: uhm yeah, but i only have like, three ibiprofens left
jackky: *ibeprofens
jackky: WHAT??? HOW TF DO YOU SPELL IT THEN???
aleXfactor: ibuprofens you idiot
jackky: i refuse to believe that it’s spelled with a U
aleXfactor: you’re a fucking doctor, i’m concerned abt your reports
jackky: dw they have instant autocorrect lol// and i mn ot a doctor am a STUDENT
jackky: anyways how long will it take for you to come?
aleXfactor: ten min tops
jackky: k imma bring out the snackies >:3
aleXfactor: YOU ARE THE LITERAL BEST I LOVE YOU YOU’RE AMAZING THANK YOU
jackky: yeah np :3
True to his word, Alexander arrived within nine minutes, knocking on John’s door eagerly. When his friend opened the door, he welcomed him in with a smile. Together, they collapsed on the sofa, with a bowl of various candies and snacks laid out on the coffee table. They flicked through the options on the TV for a few minutes, then settled on Doctor Who Series Six. It’s their favourite of them all, obviously. I mean, who could see River Song with her space-hair and secrets and not fall in love? After they’d gotten through the first episode, The Impossible Astronaut, Alexander could feel himself destressing. John must have picked up on that because he paused the credits and turned to the small man.
“So, you wanna talk about,” he gestured wildly at Alexander, hoping to articulate his words through the action before giving up with a sigh, “whatever the hell that’s fucking with you?”
“Ah, well,” Alexander fidgeted with his fingers. What was he supposed to say? That he missed talking — no, arguing — with Thomas-fucking-Jefferson? Hah, please . “I was bored and in pain. My soulmate’s going through some shit and I- I honestly don’t know.”
Not a lie, just not the full truth.
John nodded slowly before something flashed behind his eyes, then disappeared just as quickly; much too fast for Alexander to comprehend, much less understand. He tried to cover it up with a smile before he shot up to grab a glass of water and his bottle of ibuprofen. His smile grew tight as he set the glass down and handed Alexander the pill.
“Hey, no worries. We can just watch Doctor Who for a couple of hours if that makes you feel better?” John asked, grabbing a blanket from his supply closet and draping it over them. Alexander gave him a meek nod before gulping down the painkiller and water in less than five seconds.
So, the two sat there on the couch, cuddled against each other. Alexander tried to put the thoughts of Jefferson out of his mind. Really, what was there to think about? Sure he never missed a full day of school before, sure he never missed one of Washington’s classes, but who was Alexander to question him? Slowly his mind shifted to Lafayette. What had he and John discussed this morning? It was odd, John was with Lafayette at ass-o’clock in the morning, who then didn’t show up to one of their favourite classes, along with their best friend, Jefferson. Oh, and John. He must have been hiding something; what about that emotion that Alexander still couldn’t place.
God they’re all gonna be the death of him, he just knows it.
He pressed further into his friend, taking most of the blanket with him. As he tried to flush out his questions with the overwhelming noises of peoples’ blasters coming from the TV, a new one arose. One that was pestering him all morning, still forming inside him.
What the hell is going on with his soulmate?
.・゜゜・ ・゜゜・．
Thomas opened his eyes to see a bright fluorescent light blaring right in his face and an incessant beeping beside him. He let out a frustrated groan as he felt his back in immense pain. As he sat up, he looked around at what seemed to be a hospital room before his eyes fell onto his friend Lafayette jumping out of their seat to look at him.
“Mon dieu, Thomas, you scared me!” They all but screamed at him before running up to give him a hug. They pulled away as soon as he felt Thomas stiffen.
“Oh, sorry—ow,” Thomas clutched at his neck, wincing as the feeling of a needle being inserted into his muscle, “why am I- why am I here?”
Laf gave him an indescribable look. Well, maybe it was describable, but Thomas couldn’t for the life of him understand it. His head was far too muddled for him to make out anything, and his head. He had a pounding headache that racked through his entire body. Thomas shifted in his seat, trying to relax the crick he felt in his lower spine and neck. Laf continued to look at him, their eyes furrowed..
“You don’t remember?” When his friend shook his head, Laf decided to continue.“You, well, mon ami, you got into a car crash. You and Martin.”
Slowly, Thomas could feel the dots connecting in his head. He faintly remembers the screaming, the heavy whiplash that caused his head to smash against the head-rest behind him, but most of all he remembered the sound of Martin crying. Martin.
“How- how is she? Martin, I mean.” He asks, his breaths shaky as he looked around the room. “Why aren’t they here?”
Just then, one James Madison entered the room, his eyes red and brimming with tears. He looked at Thomas in shock before following Lafayette’s lead and pulling his injured friend into a tight hug. Thomas tried to hug back but the minute he tried to raise his arm, his shoulder blade — the damned weakling — gave up and he felt another crashing wave of hell. Madison got the clue and backed away a smidge, still looking at him with a hopeful expression.
“Do you know how scared I was? Thomas, you could have died, ” he said, grabbing the man’s hand and giving it a squeeze, “I can’t, no, I won’t ever let you go again.”
Thomas gave his friend a reassuring expression. “I’m okay James, don’t worry.”
“Maybe you were, but not everyone was so lucky.” James murmured, his voice just barely perceivable. Though, Thomas’ proximity to Madison allowed to hear every word clearly.
“What?” he asked, feeling a sense of dread overpower him, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Er- nothing,” he uttered, his eyebrows rising as he looked at Lafayette.
“Don’t lie to me James,” Thomas narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms judgmentally, “you’re shit at it.” Laf gave Madison a nod, possibly giving him permission for something.
He sighed heavily before turning back to Thomas. “Martin, sh- they didn’t make it. The car that crashed into yours had come from the driver’s side and…”
Thomas didn’t hear the rest of his explanation, the world falling silent to him and him alone.
No, no, no, no, no.
Martin can’t be dead, they just can’t. It just isn’t possible.
And, yet.