He stepped into the House, looking around at all the freshman who had decided to spend their first friday at SAE. Bitches, hoes, and tricks were everywhere, spread on the furniture like butter and he was tired of not having anywhere to sit. He didn't work his way up in this god-forsaken frat to not have a damn place to sit. He sighed, a group of them brushing past him, whispering and giggling at something, smelling like cheap liquor. Fuckin' freshmen, he thought to himself. Half of them would be gone before mid term anyway, so he stopped thinking about them.
He raised his glass to take a sip of whiskey, watching out the window at the Phi Tau house, where he knew Aaron Burr would be entertaining pledges. He almost spit as he looked over at the drink table to see exactly what kind of whiskey he poured himself. It wasn't his usual, whatever it was, it was disgusting. He downed it real quick and poured himself a Jack Daniels and Coke.
He felt something hit his shoulder, shoving his face down into his jack and coke. He choked, whipping around to see a lanky, uncomfortable looking, bearded man who had reached his hand out in a gesture of help.
"Fuck, dude, I'm so sorry." He stuttered over the late 90's hip-hop. I swear to god, who turned on Jump Around. Andrew stared at him for a minute, regarding him head to toe. He was tall, maybe athletic, maybe not. He was wearing a fedora, which might have made him look like a fuqboi if he hadn't been blushing so much. He looked slightly uncomfortable with the whole situation, and he decided in that brief second not to screw with him.
"No problem, I wasn't much into drinking it anyway." The guy nodded, giving him a relieved smile. "You don't seem like you are, either."
"Oh...well, I just.." He sputtered, but Andrew reached out a hand to his shoulder.
"You don't have to." He said, then stuck out his hand. "I'm Andrew, Andrew Jackson."
"Abraham Lincoln." The guy said back, taking his hand, holding on for an extra second with his long fingers.
"Abraham? What the hell kind of name is that?" He smirked as he deeply looked into Abraham's eyes, almost searching for a nickname "I'm gonna call you Abe," and he lets loose Abe's hand after that weirdly prolonged handshake, sliding it into his pocket.
He smiled again,and Andrew realized this guy didn't seem the most socialized.
"You thinking about rushing?"
"Yeah...I mean, I want to...and my fiancee wants me to." Andrew stopped, but didn't have time to ask before a woman, with her hair curled into a neat bun, a hard cola in her hand, stepped between him and Abe.
"What took you so long?" She said, her tone snippy and displeased.
"I was talking to Andrew." He said, glancing over her head. She was nearly a foot shorter than he was, the top of her head barely reaching his lips.
"Hi, I'm Andrew." He extended a hand, and she turned, a fake smile plastered on her face, and shook it back.
"I'm Mary Todd." she turned back to Abe, putting her hands on his jacket and pulling the sides together. "We should go, I've met some people over here."
"Okay," Abe said, and started to follow her as she pulled on his hand. "Bye, Andrew, it was nice to meet you."
He watched them leave, sipping whiskey, wondering why he cared so much.
A couple hours later, he was sitting on his bed, sprawled out while his roommate Martin, who everyone just called Burns, listed to horse racing on the old radio they kept in there. "Dude, who the fuck are you texting?" He looked over at Burns, who seemed engrossed by the end of the race, but always paying attention. "You've been on your phone for an hour."
"It's nothing." He said, knowing that if he told the truth, Burns would give him another round of shit for setting himself up for sadness. In truth, he was texting Aaron, who he could see was awake because the light in his room was still on across Greek Row. He only answered sporadically, he tried to tell himself that didn't mean anything, that maybe he was just busy. Burns would say otherwise.
"Is it Aaron?" Burns said, slamming the radio off when his horse fell to third. "That guy's a dick, and you know it."
"It's nothing, Burns." He muttered.
"Dude, he tried to fight you at the end of last year, you could've gotten fucking wrecked." He looked at Burns, who raised one of his incredibly long eyebrows up at him pointedly. He sighed and set the phone down, wanting a response that he was now sure wasn't coming. "Look…" Burns said sympathetically, "I know you were in a very serious relationship with him for more than two years, and it's not something you can forget. But he tried to kill your best friend, literally. Professor Franklin said that if that bullet had been slightly more right, it would've killed Tom. How can you trust Aaron after getting jealous over your best friend, Jefferson? That guy is as straight as the 49th parallel for God's sake!"
Andrew had tears building up in his eyes, but was facing away from Burns so he couldn't see. He just nodded in agreeance and burrowed his face into his hands. He took a deep breath in and slowly let it out while choking up his tears. "Yeah, it's just we shared something you know? He was the first guy I was with."
"GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS!"
Andrew throws a pillow at him and they just laugh it off.