I was sitting at my desk, tapping away at the keys on my laptop. It was nine o'clock at night and I was rapidly typing my essay that was due in two weeks. If I could finish this, as well as several others, I'd be able to skip twelfth grade and go right to college next year. Rain was pattering gently outside, and my foster parents, George and Martha, were already asleep. The last thing I expected was for the doorbell to ring. I jumped at the sound, but got out of my seat and went down the stairs. I opened up the large front door. "Hello?"

"Um, hi." I was greeted by a boy about my age. He had curly dark hair, though it was seemingly matted, but it was hard to tell from the little bit of light coming through the open door. He had thousands of freckles sprinkled over his face, almost like bits of starlight. He was actually kind of cute.

"Can I help you?" I asked.

"Do you by any chance have a few spare dollars? I need money for the bus…" he asked. "I'm sorry, this was really rude of me, coming here so late at night, but I saw your light on from the street and I-"

I cut him off. "You're a student, aren't you? Can't you use your card?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again as he shook his head from side to side.

"Did you lose it?"

He hesitated, then nodded his head. It wouldn't take a detective to tell he was lying.

"Here, come in out of the rain," I offered. "You can use my phone to call home."

"No! No, I can't call home." He said, shaking his head.

I arched my brow, looking at him suspiciously. "And why not?"

The boy had a panicked expression on his face. "Can you please promise not to tell anyone?"

"Yeah." I nodded my head, though I was concerned. What had him so frightened?

"I...I ran away. From South Carolina."

My eyes widened at this fact. "You got from South Carolina all the way to New York?"

He nodded. "I can't go home, I just can't."

I stood there for a moment, thinking about what George and Martha's response to having this kid stay would be.

"How long has it been since you've slept in a bed?"

"What?"

"How long has it been since you've slept in a bed?" I repeated my question.

"I don't know, maybe a little over six months?"

This guy's been out here a while. "Do you want to come in? You can take a shower if you want, or at least spend the night." I realized that sounded really creepy. "I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to, I just figured I'd make the offer…"

"What's your name?" He asked quietly.

"Ah, sorry. Alexander Hamilton."

"John Laurens," he replied. "I will definitely take up your offer to come inside."

He stepped into the entryway and stood there awkwardly as I locked the door. I led him up the stairs. "Bathroom's right there. That's my bedroom. And that's the guest bedroom there." I said, pointing to each door. "I have an extra pair of pajamas you can use, did you want to take a shower?"

"Y-yeah." John stuttered out quietly.

I went into my room and grabbed the pajamas, coming back out a minute later and setting them into John's hands. "Here you go. You can have the guest bedroom, if you want."

"T-thanks." He said, his voice still barely above a whisper, before walking into the bathroom.

I walked back into my room, opening up my laptop. Laurens. I knew I had heard that name before, and quickly typed the boy's name into the search bar on the top of the screen.

Multiple results came up and I was slightly overwhelmed. I finally chose a site that looked reliable and clicked on the link. A picture of the freckle-faced boy popped up with a description and where he was from. Seventeen years old. I was right about him being my age. I scrolled down to see if it said exactly where from South Carolina he was from, or any other information. Family and who to contact. This ought to be useful, though I promised not to tell anyone where he was from, which means I couldn't call his family either. Might as well at least figure out who his family was. I glimpsed through until something caught my eye. John Laurens is the son of South Carolinian senator, Henry Laurens. I read.

I felt sick. Henry Laurens was one of the biggest, most homophobic assholes in the government, and now his son, who was no doubt the same way, was underneath my roof.

I heard the shower shut off and decided that it was pretty late, I should at least get some sleep. I logged off of my computer, and, figuring John would take the guest room, changed into my pajamas, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed.

"Alexander?" I heard John's voice in my room, almost making me jump out of my skin.

"Yes, John?"

"Um, can I sleep in here?"

I was surprised by his question. I thought he'd take the guest room for sure. "Yeah, take my bed." I said, getting out and grabbing on of the cots from inside my walk-in closet. Usually Herc or Laf used it when they came over, but tonight it looked like I would be using it instead.

I watched as John curled up onto the bed, making a sort of nest in the blankets. I laid down on the cot and already could hear steady breathing from him. He must've been tired to have fallen asleep so quickly. I too closed my eyes, waiting for sleep to claim my consciousness.

I was awoken by shrieks. Surprised, I rolled off the cot and onto the floor, my legs tangled in the sheets. I pulled them off of me and went over to the bed, where John was writhing, making the bed bounce. He released another scream, making me panic. The Washington's would wake up if John continued to scream, if they weren't already awake, that is.

"John!" I whisper-yelled, grabbing onto him while trying to shake him awake. "John! John, wake up!"

His eyes opened and his face was pale. His chest was heaving as he panted heavily and I could see a glimmer of fear in his eyes.

"Hey John, it's okay. You're okay." For whatever reason I felt the need to protect him, to reassure him, despite having just met him and who his father was. I heard footsteps in the hallway and a minute later George and Martha showed up in my room, flicking the lights on.

"Alexander? What's going on?" George asked. "Who is this?"

I sat there for a moment, rapidly trying to come up with a convincing lie. "This is my friend, John." I said, speaking slowly. "He's homeschooled, but I met him at the library. We hang out sometimes..."

"Why is he here?" Martha asked.

"Uh, he got kicked out." I replied quickly, hoping it sounded believable. "He showed up around nine, I told him he could spend the night." I looked down at him to see he was still breathing heavily. "He had a bad dream." I added.

The Washington's seemed satisfied with my answer. "Alright," George said. "Just be sure to tell us next time you have a friend over." He said as he and Martha turned to leave the room. "Goodnight, Alex." He flicked off the lights.

I turned back to John, who was slowly sitting up. The streetlights were shining in through the window and I could see his eyes were glistening. "Wanna talk?" I asked, keeping my voice soft.

He looked at me with wide eyes. "Please don't hurt me…" he said quietly, his voice shaking.

"I'm not going to." I replied. Tears were streaming down his face and I gently brushed some of the curls back that had become plastered to his skin.

"A-alright. I'm-I'm gonna go back to sleep." He said.

He laid back down in the bed and I watched his chest rise and fall gently. He really is cute. I thought, then scolded myself. No, he's probably the same as his dad. I don't have a shot with him.

I climbed back onto the small cot and closed my eyes, letting sleep claim me once again.

And here is the first chapter of my newest story! I hope you enjoyed, please review!