Charles Lee slunk down the cobblestone streets, keeping close to the alleyways, a pocketknife rubbing against his leg uncomfortably in his front pocket. He desired to do nothing more than stir up trouble.
A pack of redcoats marched up towards Charles, eyes shrewd yet lifeless. Charles smirked, it was sweltering outside, and the British troops looked quite bothered and hot under their heavy uniforms.
But he drew back into an alleyway to let them pass. He didn't wish to tangle with the well-trained men, polished and lethal muskets hanging by their sides.
Charles flipped some of his horribly dark and thick hair from his eyes. He ran his hand over the shaven side of his head, wishing for the sun to disappear behind a cloud and spare them from its heat.
Once the redcoats had passed, he slipped back into the streets and continued making his way downtown.
As he approached the town square, Charles noticed a large and somewhat angry crowd flocked around the town stage.
Charles felt his stomach clench up in excitement. Perhaps he could stir up trouble here. His morning had been boring and he needed something to do.
Charles pushed his way rudely through the crowd until he was up in the front of the stage. He took one glance at the speaker and for once, felt absolutely speechless.
The boy wasn't much older than he, but he was perhaps a few inches taller. He was willowy with snow-pale skin and wind-swept hair, thick and shiny, the color of rich caramel. His thick-lashed eyes were wide and almond-shaped, with cocoa-colored irises.
"Hear ye, Hear ye!" He announced, his voice snippy and shrill, yet tainted with an exquisite British accent. "My name is Samuel Seabury, and I provide free thoughts on the Continental Congress!"
Suddenly, those deliciously brown eyes flickered down and latched onto Charles's own muddy brown-gray eyes.
Samuel Seabury seemed to choke and he went bright red. Charles huffed out a breath in surprise and turned away, cursing himself when he felt a blush creep along his cheeks.

Samuel blanched as he noticed a good-looking boy in one of the front rows. He had a thatch of sleek hair, the color of black earth. His head was shaven on one side, and he had multiple piercings in his ears and bottom lip. He was sun-kissed with strange eyes, not quite gray, not quite brown.
He radiated arrogance and confidence, but he quickly looked away and blushed when Samuel caught his eye.
Samuel gulped and tried to proceed. "H-Heed not the rabble who scream: 'Revolution!' t-they h-have not your interest at heart...!"
Samuel snuck a glance at the boy, and to his dismay, he was looking at Samuel with a look of disgust on his handsome face.
"Chaos and bloodshed are not the solution! Don't let them l-lead you astray~! This 'Congress' does not speak for me!" Samuel cried out, ignoring the boy.
/Oh well.../ Samuel thought to himself. /It's not like you'd ever have a chance with him anyways./
The mysterious boy was handsome, but in a "bad boy" way, with that dark gray t-shirt and dusty and torn black jeans.
Samuel was part of an aristocratic family, a gaggle of Loyalists who practically worshipped King George the III.
Anyways, the boy was probably straight anyways. Samuel was just about as straight as a circle.
"They're playing a dangerous game!" he warned the crowd. A few people were nodding approval, but the majority either looked impassive or mutinous.
A young man towards the back stood out to him, his heart-shaped face framed by bunches of curls. Even from a hundred feet away, Samuel thought he could make out the faintest starbursts of freckles on his face.
The look on his face promised Samuel doom. A trickle of sweat ran down Samuel's neck.
"P-Pray the King shows you his mercy!" Samuel called, cringing. "For shame! For shame!"
And then someone cut into Samuel. He had climbed up onto the stage without him knowing.
"Yo."

Charles glared at the newcomer who had interrupted Samuel's speech. The man had long and dark hair, and he looked short and looked scrappy. He had a small and scruffy beard, but his eyes sparkled intelligently.
The newcomer launched into a speech, yelling over Samuel and contradicting him left and right.
"It's hard to listen to you with a straight face!" the smaller man sneered, his scrawny frame perhaps a foot shorter than Samuel's.
"Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution!" Samuel insisted while the newcomer yelled: "Chaos and bloodshed already haunt us!"
Charles felt disgusted by Samuel's political views, and how they differed so much from his own.
Charles was a born and bred Patriot; he was pining for a revolution. He absolutely despised King George the III, and all of his tyrannical acts of injustice.
But still, Charles felt angry towards the dark-haired man, who was now shouting: "Is he in Jersey?!"
Samuel was on the floor, scrabbling backwards as the smaller man advanced towards him.
"Honestly, look at me, please don't read!" Charles's fellow Patriot hissed.
"N-Not your interests!" Samuel squeaked.
"Don't modulate the key then not debate with me!" the newcomer spat, flipping Samuel off.
Charles ground his teeth and clenched his fists. He felt a rush of hatred towards the arrogant bastard, who now had turned back to the crowd.
"Why should a tiny island across the sea regulate the price of tea?!" he shrieked.
"Alexander, please," a man begged, his eyes gleaming with worry.
"Burr, I'd rather be divisive than indecisive, so drop the niceties!" the small, dark-haired man - well, Alexander - snapped back.
And then, suddenly, a horde of redcoats marched onstage, shoving both Samuel and Alexander off the stage.
"Silence!" they roared, "A message from the King, a message from the King, a message from the King!"
Charles sighed in disgust and then headed towards the direction of where he saw Samuel fall into the crowd.
Samuel was hunched over in the shadow of the wooden stage, his back to the structure. Charles plopped down besides Samuel.
Samuel gave him one look of uttermost disbelief and surprise, which quickly morphed into fear.
"Wha- What'd you w-want?" Samuel stuttered, his eyes wide. He looked slightly breathless.
"I just saw you fall off the stage and I wanted to make sure that you were okay." Charles replied truthfully.
Samuel blinked at him for a few seconds.
"What's your name?" Samuel whispered.
"Charles Lee." Charles said. "And you're Samuel Seabury, I presume?"
"Yes..." Samuel breathed, looking at Charles in awe.
Charles held Samuel's gaze and blushed slightly when he saw his own curiosity reflected in Samuel's pretty brown eyes.
"So," Charles said, "you're a Torrie."
Samuel looked down. "Yes..."
"How can you ever support that tyrant?" Charles demanded. "He taxes us unfairly, relentlessly, and without our consent, then turns around and goes on another spending spree!"
"I'm just trying to save us from unnecessary violence! I don't want any bloodshed!" Samuel snipped back. "I will never understand you Patriots! Do you wish for a war?"
"If it means setting my people free, then yes, I do!" Charles snapped.
"But so many of you would die!" Samuel wailed.
"So what?" Charles said, turning his head away. "But at least the rest of us would be free. Give me liberty or give me death!"
"But King George's taxes aren't that unrealistic and outrageous! He doesn't tax necessities like food or water! He only taxes luxury items such as tea and paper! Most of you rebels can't even afford what he taxes!"
"What about the stamps?" Charles spat. "I hate paying extra every time I want to send a letter to my brother!"
"It's just a few pence, I'm sure you can afford it!" Samuel snipped, turning his back on Charles.
"Every pence makes a difference!" Charles hissed, crossing his arms.
"Not that big!" Samuel sniffed.
Charles gritted his teeth. He loved arguing and stirring up trouble, but this time, just this once, he just wanted Samuel to agree with him.
"I don't know about you rich folk," Charles said, eyeing Samuel's silk sash, "but down here in the middle-class section, a few pence could buy you a tablespoon of medicine to cure a cough so you wouldn't have to watch your little sister suffer in front of you without doing a thing!" Charles shouted.

Samuel gaped, speechless, at Charles.
/I've never thought of that.../ Samuel thought to himself. /There's so much that I still don't know./
Samuel blushed and then turned away. He heard Charles walk away.
"I'm so sorry..." Samuel whispered, tears dotting his eyelashes.

Heyyy~ just a quick something. I wasn't going to post this, but then I was like oh, whatever. I haven't seen any Leebury yet, so why not? Anyways, I might make this a multi-chapter fic, but school's starting soon. Idk, should I make more? Rip ans thanks for reading!