Work Text:
“Laurens,” Alexander breathed, his hot breath hitting John’s neck.
“Come on, sweetheart,” John murmurs, kissing his lips with a feverish warmth. “I've got you. I've got you.”
Alexander gasps for air, his arms wrapped around John’s neck.
Alexander remembered the moments he and John got when alone, holding hands, kissing, doing even more. Nothing could match the feeling of his body against him. Nothing could ever replace him, as a whole, his freckles, his beautiful blue eyes, his blond hair and perfect lips.
Alexander remembered every single letter.
‘Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships.’
And if that wasn't true, nothing was. John was everything Alexander wanted but didn't deserve. He was the sunlight on a windy day, falling upon you in its warmth, going against the cold brush of wind.
He was the smell of earth after rain, he was everything.
Alexander loved him more than he loved himself. He loved him so much, he valued, cared about him, so, so much, and yet, the time they had together was ever so limited.
Alexander had expected this. He didn't think things would happen otherwise. But, god, it hurt. It hurt so much. It hurt enough to make his breaths hitch, to feel lightheaded, to make tears fill his eyes.
“No,” he breathed, eyes wide as he looked up at Eliza.
“I'm so-”
“No!” Alexander all but sobbed, gripping his desk in order to stay upright. “No, Eliza, please- tell me it is not true, please, Eliza, please-” He stumbled over his words, begging his wife to say it was not true, just some twisted joke.
Eliza stayed silent, barely shaking her head in reply.
“I'm sorry,” she murmured.
“No, no, no, no, Laurens, my sweet Laurens,” Alexander whispered, tears dripping down his cheeks.
Eliza hastily let the letter down onto Alexander's desk, leaving silently to give him some room.
Once the door closed behind her, Alexander collapsed to the ground, sobs wracking his body.
“No, my Laurens, no, no, please, please!” he wailed, reaching up and grabbing the letter with shaking hands.
The words stared up at him: cold, unforgiving.
“No,” he repeated in whispers, yearning to be in the arms of his lover once more. Was life after death real? Would Alexander ever see him again? Would he try, taking a gun to his head or a knife to his wrist?
But he couldn't leave Eliza.
But Laurens.
Alexander clutched the letter to his chest, simply sitting on the ground, numb, his heart heavy with grief.
John Laurens.
The love of his life.
Gone.