Work Text:
Maria doesn't go anywhere without her hood up anymore. She's changed her signature lipstick color, which totally pisses her off because she's been wearing that shade of red since high school. She doesn't go by her full name anymore, she uses the nickname her mother used to call her by: Rye. Maria hates it. But more than that, she hates people recognizing her as Maria Reynolds, or even Maria Lewis. Both names were included in that godforsaken post.
Thank god New York is a big city, and thank god not everyone who follows Alexander Hamilton's stupid blog lives around here. Maria's already been recognized way more than she thought she would. She was surprised to figure out that she was friends with some of the people in his social circle-- Eliza and Peggy Schuyler were pretty good friends of hers. Of course, they hadn't known she knew Alexander. Nobody did, at least until the Reynolds Post. Word gets around, and now Maria spends more time alone than she ever did before.
Maybe that's why she agreed to this. It's a bad idea all around, truly. When she'd gotten the text from a guy claiming to be Alexander Hamilton's (ex)boyfriend, her heart had stopped. She never expected him to try and get in touch with her. She still doesn't know how he even got her phone number. Still, he had texted her and asked her to meet up with him. He said he wanted to talk. Maria has enough experience with men who want to "talk", and it never turns out well. But here she is anyway, tucked away in the very back booth of a coffee shop in a part of town she's never been. She knows it's near Alexander's apartment, but it's not like he ever took her out around here.
She doesn't know how long she's been waiting at this point. She got here early, probably too early. John Laurens should be here any minute. Maria doesn't even know what he looks like, but she's sure he knows what she looks like. Pictures of her were in the post. Not some of the dirty ones, not even Alexander would post those. Just selfies and other dumb pictures she'd sent him. Back when things seemed okay. Even though her fiance was extorting him for money, even though she knew he would never love her how he loved John, even though she knew that one day everything would blow up in their faces-- it seemed okay. When she was with Alexander, she could pretend it was okay.
Only now it's not okay. She's sitting in this stupid fucking coffee shop and drinking a latte she doesn't even want. She's alone. All her friends think she's a whore, James is in jail for various embezzlement and fraud crimes, way more than extorting Alexander. He's totally gone, and Maria knows he's not coming back. Two days ago, she woke up and her ring was gone. So was James. Maria's made bad choices, but she's not stupid. She knows James skipped out on her and probably pawned her engagement ring before he finally got arrested. She'll probably never see him again, and she's not sad about it. There's only one man she wants to see.
Maria runs her nails along the styrofoam cup of her half-drunk latte. The red polish that she normally keeps impeccable is chipped and peeling. It feels like a gross metaphor for her life. Because life didn't used to be great, but she could pretend it was. James knocked her around and cheated on her and was an asshole to her every single day and essentially pimped her out to Alexander, yes. All of that was total shit, but she's used to shitty men. Even though James was horrible, she had Alexander. And she knew he wasn't hers. She always knew that the sweet words he'd whisper in her ear as he took her apart to her core, the lovely things he said to her in texts and emails, were just words. But she could pretend he meant them. It could be enough for a moment.
She doesn't know how much time has passed when someone is suddenly sitting across from her. She'd been zoned out, and she makes this stupid little yelping sound when she realizes someone's there. When she looks up, it's a man she doesn't recognize. He has long, midnight curls that fluff out from his head adorable. Freckles dot all over him, and he has the prettiest hazel eyes she's ever seen. Then she realizes that this is John Laurens and those pretty hazel eyes he has trained on her are totally empty of emotion.
Maria has seen men scream at her and rage at her and cry at her. She's seen them at their worst and at their best. She always thought that she'd seen practically every emotion a man had to offer. But Maria has never seen the numbness that she sees in John's eyes, and it's like the stitches in her heart are being popped one by one.
John doesn't know what he's doing here. He doesn't know why he's doing this. This girl doesn't owe him anything, and he doesn't owe her anything. He has no fucking clue why he's asked her to meet him in this coffee shop that he hasn't been to in two and a half months. He hasn't stepped foot in this place since he kicked Alexander out. They used to come here all the time together, and John hasn't even been able to look in the windows without seeing himself and Alexander laughing and drinking the way they always did.
But here he is, and there she is. All the picture's John has seen of Maria are beautiful. If he wasn't gay, he probably would've been attracted to her. But as is, he appreciates girls aesthetically. And Maria is aesthetically gorgeous. Normally, anyway. The Maria in front of him looks infinitely smaller than he imagined. She's hunched into herself like she expects someone to come along and hit her. Her eyes watch him carefully, and he can practically see the muscles tense in her legs, ready to get her the hell out of this coffee shop if he does something she doesn't like.
"I..." John licks his lips and adjusts in his seat. "I want to talk. I'm not going to hurt you. Okay?"
Maria shrugs and taps her long nails against her coffee cup. "Okay. So talk."
This is what he's been dreading. He doesn't know how to start. How does one even start a conversation like this? How do you talk to the other woman, how do you try and make anything right? John fists his hands tightly until his knuckles go white, and then he speaks. "I know this is probably crazy, but I feel like I have to talk to you. I have to get some kind of closure. I have to know. Alexander wrote quite a lot in that post, but I know there's some stuff he wouldn't include. And I feel like I'm never going to start getting over him if I don't know those things. You know?"
She pauses and looks down at her chipped nails. Her voice is low as she says, "I know. But I don't know what you want me to say. He, um-- he spelled it out. There wasn't much he didn't say. All those texts and emails, I don't know what more you want from me."
John gets that. He hardly knows what he wants from her. But he knows there's something he needs from her, so he presses on. "Maybe just, start with why? Why would you go after him in the first place? Did you know he wasn't single?"
Maria shifts uncomfortably and John doesn't blame her. It's surprising, even to him, but he can't find as much anger towards her as he maybe should have. The more she speaks, the more he realizes how not mad at her he is. "I didn't know. Honest to god, I didn't know about you at first. He never said he wasn't single and he didn't have a ring. I had no idea about you. The first couple times we got together, it was in my apartment. I was lonely and my fiance was totally abusive. And Alexander treated me how he did and I just couldn't give that up." She blushes. "Even after I found out about you. I was in too deep. He's like a black hole, John, and I was too far gone in him to get out."
John thinks he understands better than almost anyone how much of a black hole Alexander Hamilton is. Alexander takes and takes and takes. He sucks you in with his whirlwind of a personality, his silver tongue that could practically raise the dead. Oh yes, John understands the dangers of falling in love with Alexander Hamilton. You lose yourself in him. You lose your heart in him.
She goes on. "I wanted to stop, after I found out about you. It was the first time we were in your apartment. I didn't notice until after we had, um. Yeah. Until after that, I didn't notice the pictures of you. They were all over. And I saw the way he looked at them. It broke my heart. I only meant for him to be a fling, but I fell for him so hard. It was agony, being with him and looking over to find him starting at the background picture on his phone. It was always a picture of you doing something cute, or just you smiling. I hated you because he of how he looked at all those pictures. But now, I know it's not your fault. I don't blame you. I shouldn't have let myself believe he could be mine."
"I don't think I really blame you either. You didn't know. And I understand that Alexander is practically a drug. Once you've had a couple tastes, you can't give him up. He's addictive and magnetic." John sighs and runs a hand through his tangled mess of curls. He hasn't bothered to brush it in days, and it feels like a rat's nest under his hand. "I kicked him out, by the way. Of our apartment. He's been sleeping on the couch in his office at his law firm, if you want to see him."
John remembers that night. After he'd broken the engagement ring, the one he'd planned to propose with, Alexander had comforted him through a storm of tears. Then John made it very clear that Alexander needed to get his shit and leave or John was going to set fire to everything he owned. Alex was gone by dawn the next morning. The apartment had never been quieter. The bed had never been colder. John had bought new sheets and sold the bed frame, it was like a totally different bed. It didn't erase the fact that it was now too big a bed for one lonely heart.
Maria shakes her head, snapping John out of his memories. "I don't want to see him. There's no point. After what he's done, I don't think I could see him without losing it. I deserve punishment, but it wasn't his place to punish me. Not like this." She locks eyes with him. "I'm sorry for what I did. I know it was wrong. I know that nothing is going to be the same for either of us because of what I've done. And I'm not sorry to him. But I am so, so, so fucking sorry to you."
She gets up from the table. "It'll get better for you, John. You deserve it." Then she's gone and John is staring at the empty coffee cup she left behind. Was that closure? He's not sure. He doesn't really feel better after their talk, but he feels less like he's drifting. He feels like something has tethered him back to earth. Every word she says replays in his mind, a loop of apology that he can't erase.
John doesn't know how he does it. He's not even really paying attention as he stumbles out of the coffee shop and onto the busy street. His feet take him back in the direction of his apartment, but his brain doesn't tell them too. His brain is with his heart, still wrapped up in the arms of man who was never satisfied. His brain and his heart are still sitting in front of a woman who was shattered because she forgot to not fall in love. When he walks into his silent apartment, his brain and his heart are living the night John found out he loved Alexander, along with the night he found out someone else did, too. His brain and his heart have abandoned him as he collapses into a cold bed.
The sheets don't feel right under his body. The whole apartment doesn't feel right. It hasn't been warm since Alexander left. Some part of home died when Alexander walked out the door with two cardboard boxes clutched in his arms. John's become acquainted with ghosts since then. Ghosts of love and passion flit just around the corners of his eyes, and John longs to catch them and hold onto them again. They slipped through his fingers when Alexander did. It doesn't feel like he'll ever find them again.
John curls up tighter in the bed. He shoves thoughts of Maria and Alexander out of his mind. The dead are here again to collect him, and John has been ready to drown for two and a half months.