Alexander Hamilton
Walking up to the building that was to be my home for the next five years should have been a pretty nerve-wracking experience, I'm sure it was for a lot of people, however, it happened to me at half past seven on a Sunday morning and, quite frankly, I can't function that early. I knew that I would be with my two best friends from high school and this other kid, so I wasn't bothered.
With great difficulty I dragged my bags up 8 flights of stairs. We have 7 buildings at King's college, each with 8 floors. It just so happened that I had the top floor and therefore, the most stairs.
I knew Herc and Laf had moved in the night before and probably claimed the best bedroom, leaving me with the new kid. Quickly praying that he was nothing like Jefferson before I pushed open the door.
The second I stepped into the apartment I caught a whiff of chocolate, mixed with the unmistakable smell of coffee. My favourite combination. With a small squeal I dropped my bag and ran towards a small room lit by a dim yellow glow, a faint conversation drifting from it. As I rushed through the doorway my foot caught on a bag of groceries that Laf must have picked up on the way here and plummeted towards the floor. As I was nearing my doom (also known as the floor) I felt a pair of hands wrap round my waist and catch me before I landed. With a sharp tug upwards, the person brought me to my feet so I was standing in front of them but facing away with their arms still around my waist. In front of me stood my two rather confused friends.
The first was Hercules Mulligan. Herc joined Kings Elementary when he was six so often acted superior because 'he was the original'. He was here on a partial scholarship which was paying his tuition fees for him. He'd apparently got a part-time job as a bartender in The Black Horse and was planning to set up and run a small online tailor business from apartment 789 (our apartment). Back in high school he made the prom dresses for the Schuyler sisters, Angelica, Eliza and Margarita- also known as Peggy.
On Herc's left stood Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. Otherwise known as Lafayette. Laf moved from France because his parents died and he joined Kings Elementary school aged 7. A year after Herc. His side of the room that he shared with Herc (I knew it!) was already decorated with iconic French and American scenes and souvenirs.
That left the mysterious stranger stood behind me, who I assumed was our other roomate.
"They probably shouldn't move that bag, it gives me a great excuse to hold an attractive guy like this." came a soft velvety voice, tickling my ear.
"Smooth, man" I said, turning around and coming face to face with a shortish boy. He had intelligent looking, hazel colored eyes and a very slim frame. A deep red hoodie about four sizes too big hung from his shoulders, and a loose pair of faded jeans came down to the floor. His dark, not quite black hair, framed his face and a slight smile toyed at the side of his mouth.
He was absolutely gorgeous.
"Alexander Hamilton. My name is Alexander Hamilton." He offered.
"John Laurens" I replied, "In the place to be"
"I am Hercules Mulligan. I need no introduction, but here's one anyways"
"J'mappelle Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. Mais vous pouvez m'appeler Lafayette."
My name is Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette. But you can call me Lafayette.
Shot Laf, in a fast convoy of words that neither me nor Herc understood.
"Yo, Laf. English please. We don't all speak French." Complained Herc.
"C'est bon. Ma mère m'a appris le français. Il est très agréable de vous rencontrer Lafayette." Alex said, without any hesitation.
It's good. My mother taught me French. It is very nice to meet you Lafayette.
At this, Laf's eyes grew wide and he rushed forward to embrace Alex. Although I knew it was a purely platonic gesture, I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy for this guy that I met only minutes ago.
" Toute personne qui peut parler cette belle langue est bonne avec moi, Mon ami"
Anyone who can speak this beautiful language is good with me, my friend.
At this, Alex blushed slightly and murmured something about unpacking before hastily walking away.
Heyyyyyy, this is my first fanfiction so I don't know how good it is. I'll hopefully figure out how to upload chapters but if I can't then this'll be a one paragraph story. I'm actually British but I'm gonna try use American phrases and stuff. Writing color instead of colour physically hurt.