Maybe he should have worked in the library today. Thomas cursed and slammed his textbook shut.

It was Saturday night, and no one was asleep, which wasn't unusual for King's College, but Thomas still wasn't used to staying up past twelve am. John Laurens, his roommate, was known for throwing large parties, and Thomas, since he shared the room with him, felt obligated to attend. Because honestly, Laurens was such an innocent goof, and he was Thomas' friend, after all.

Laurens was currently dating Alexander Hamilton, someone that Thomas wasn't too fond of, but was willing to adjust his schedule for the two of them to have the room alone sometimes. Hamilton was a rather strongly-opinionated person, who loved to debate (usually opposite to the side Thomas picked) and, in Thomas' impression of him, brash and increasingly bold. But if Laurens saw a different side to him - did he even have another side? - then Thomas would try to get along with him. Because no one liked drama between a friend and their boyfriend.

Thomas currently was trapped in the theatre, which probably wasn't the best place to host a party. He had passed at least five couples making out - having sex? -across the theatre seats or against the wall, Laurens and Hamilton included. Somehow, that made things worse.

He had tried studying, but the noise level, combined with the acoustics of the room, made it impossible to even concentrate, lest he get a massive headache.

Alcohol didn't help either. Thomas wasn't that much of a restricted drinker, but honestly, if he had a choice, he would rather be in his dorm room right now, sleeping.

He risked a glance at his watch. It was only eleven thirty, and John said it would end at two. Two hours and a half to go.

Stumbling down another row of seats with a glass brimming with vodka in his hand, Thomas accidentally bumped into someone, nearly spilling his drink.

"Sorry," he muttered, before edging past the other person.

"Thomas?" the person responded. "That you?"

Thomas squinted. In the dim light, he could just barely make out James Madison's dark, curly-haired head. "James? What are you doing here?"

"Could ask the same for you," James replied, looking uncomfortable. The two were best friends (or so they said), but neither of them had ever seen each other at a party before, much less a party that involved alcohol.

Thomas didn't know what to say to that, so he asked a different question. "You get invited by Laurens?"

James shook his head, looking a bit sheepish. "I snuck in. I wanted to see if the party was as good as Hamilton claimed it was going to be."

"And you were wrong."

"Yeah." The friends fell into an uneasy silence, music thundering through the speakers from the stage filling their ears.

Thomas had the impression that James wasn't telling the entire truth; the way he was shifting back and forth and avoiding eye contact was giving it away.

"Well, it was nice seeing you here," Thomas said, inwardly cringing at his formalness. They were friends, for heaven's sake!

James inclined his head slightly and withdrew into the shadows. Thomas turned around and made his way back down the row. At the buffet table, his glass of vodka was snatched out of his hands, and as he looked to see who had done it, Lafayette appeared out of nowhere, leaning on Thomas to heavily that the latter nearly fell over.

"Mon ami! Have you tasted the punch yet? It is délicieux!"

Thomas shook his head, mindful of the smell of alcohol on Lafayette's breath, made a mental note to not drink the punch. "It's probably spiked, Laf."

Lafayette grinned drunkenly. "Oui, it is! I was the one who did it, after all!"

"I told him not to," a voice came from behind Thomas. Without turning around, he identified them as Hercules Mulligan.

"It's fine, Herc," Thomas reassured him. "Laf never could resist a chance to get others drunk with him."

"I know, but that doesn't make me any more happy," Hercules replied.

Hercules had the reputation for not getting drunk at parties. Thomas didn't understand why, but he guessed it had something to do with helping Laf back to his dorm room.

Laf was babbling in French now, words flying so fast that Thomas, even with his studies in the language, didn't understand.

Hercules took Laf by his shoulders and steered him away from Thomas. "I think it's time to go. See you around, Thomas."

By that, Thomas understood they were going to an abandoned wing to make out. He watched them retreat until the crowd of people swallowed them.

"Hey," Laurens slurred, coming up behind him. "You havin' fun, Thomas?" Thomas gave him a look but Laurens was too drunk to really notice. "I'm havin' fun."

"You need to stop drinking," Thomas told him.

"Says you." Laurens pouted. "You always drink at parties."

Thomas ignored him, spying James across the room, chatting with Maria Reynolds, an attractive girl who also happened to be in Thomas' writing class. Thomas felt a pang of jealousy that he quickly pushed down. What did it matter to him that James was talking to Maria? Sure, she was pretty, but that didn't mean anything.

Keep it together, Thomas. You don't even know if he's attracted to guys.

"Thomas?" Laurens was trying to get his attention again. "You good?"

Thomas shook his head to get rid of his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm fine."

No, you're not.

"I think I'll leave early," Thomas said abruptly.

"But the party's just started!" Laurens protested, latching onto Thomas' shoulder. "You can't leave yet!"

James was looking over at them, oh god he was looking, and Thomas felt his heart leap again. Why did he act this way? They were friends, best friends, but they couldn't act normal around each other.

James' face was a mixture of disgust and confusion. Thomas noticed more people were drawn to the scene Laurens was causing. The theatre now felt really small and crowded. He needed fresh air. He needed to leave. Now.

He tore himself out of Laurens' grip, and ran. Throwing open the door, he hurtled through the streets, nearly knocking over Charles Lee and Aaron Burr passing the library.

Making it into the safety of his dorm room, he slammed the door shut and slumped against it. What the hell was going on? Thomas suddenly felt the need to vomit and stumbled his way to the window. Bile rose in his throat and poured out into the flowers below. His throat stung with regurgitated alcohol and other things he didn't want to think of. Why were they acting this way?

Maybe he didn't want to know.

Then there was a knock at the door. "Thomas?" a voice called. "Are you in there?"

Thomas recognized the voice, his lungs constricting, making it impossible to breathe. James.

"Yeah," he croaked.

"Can I come in?"

No! Thomas wanted to scream. No, I can't let you see me like this, I can't let you know that I like you, I can't let you in!

"Yes," he said.

The door opened slowly, like James was afraid of scaring Thomas. The latter managed to pull himself onto his bed, sitting there stiffly like a mannequin.

There was a pause and then James coughed. "I, uh, am sorry."

Thomas blinked. Say what now? "For what? You don't-"

But the words were out and James wasn't stopping. "I'm sorry for being so distant lately, I'm sorry for not helping you out, I'm sorry for not explaining myself, I'm just-just sorry."

Silence. Thomas didn't know what to think. "I don't know what you-"

"I love you, okay?" This was the closest to shouting that Thomas had ever heard James before. He continued, in a softer tone. "I didn't tell you, and our awkward friendship was my fault. I'm sorry."

Thomas couldn't speak. Say something, idiot.

"Thomas?" Now James sounded a bit scared.

And Thomas started laughing. He didn't know why, it was just so funny that both of them avoided each other because of love and neither of them recognized their feelings.

"What's so funny?" James asked, a smile starting to grow on his face.

"This whole situation," Thomas gasped in laughter. "We were both so stupid!"

Now James looked slightly concerned. "Wha-"

"I love you too, James. That's also why I've been distant too." Thomas managed to explain.

Understanding dawned in James' eyes. And he started laughing too.

They were still there when John returned to the room.

Immediately after coming in, he left without the pair seeing him, raced to Alexander's room, and shouted, "I knew it!"