honestly, this is my first lams story. just know that i tried to write like alex did in his letters but im from modern times and am barely a high school student give me a break
He turned, ran towards the man in the red uniform, rifle ready to fire. The red coat looked startled, he was young and not adapted to battle. Not like John was. The man fumbled for the trigger on his rifle, pointed it right at John, and shot with his eyes squeezed shut. The bullet should've missed, it had every right to, but it went straight into him. John never thought he would die this way. Not like this. Not by the bullet of a red coat who couldn't even aim correctly. Here he was, though, on the ground of the dusty battlefield, blood pouring out of him.
The last thing he remembered was Alexander's soft voice, ringing through his head, "Laurens, do not throw away your shot."
John's dead.
Alexander knew it was true, that no, no one would have a sense of humor that horrid, but he had to keep reminding himself. He had to stop writing letters to John, letters that he will never receive because John's dead, and get back to work. He had too much work to do as it was.
And yet. His hand still wrote feverishly on the the parchment, words leaking out of the quill he tightly gripped like a waterfall. Everything he ever wanted to say, everything he ever thought, everything he ever wanted to do, came rushing out on the paper. All his life, the only way he knew how to express his feelings was either by talking or writing. The reason why he did both frequently. But saying all of what he had on his mind right now could quite possibly have him divorced and then hanged, so he was forced to do the latter.
O my dearest Laurens, had you even received my last letter? Had you chosen to ignore me, or had you never gotten it? Such a fool, I am. I should have never let you persuade me into letting you go. O, but of course, you are your own man and I would not have been able to stop you no matter the situation. Now you have died fighting, and I am left with too many things to say and nowhere to say them.
Alex felt his heart clench together like a fist. How could such an extraordinary person be swept away right under his feet? All of the memories, the midnight whispers, the shared smiles, the soft touches, they could never be the same to Alexander. They would now only be something that had happened, not recreated again. Never again.
John, you bastard, how could you walk out of this tornado called life so suddenly? How could you leave me? I loved you so much, you were the light when everything else fell to darkness. Even when it surrounded you, even when you breathed it, you were never taken by it. These days I might have light in the form of Eliza and Philip, but you were the first source. The brightest source. So, I will ask again, how could you do this to me?
A tear hit the paper. Alexander watched it spread over the ink and blur some of the letters of his last words. He wiped at his eyes, just now realizing that he had started crying. Crying? He had not cried for a very long time. He used to think his tear ducts just did not work anymore, but no, he was now crying. He had another realization with that: it felt good. It seemed as if his worries were falling with the tears, it lightened the load just a little bit.
Oh, but Alex was a grown man. Tears were for children. He could not cry now, nor any other time. Besides, Eliza would be calling him down for supper any moment. What would she say if she saw her thick skinned, loud mouth husband weeping in his office, with no other letter but the one he was now writing by his side?
Alex sighed as he wiped away at his cheeks and controlled his breathing. He would splash some water on his face before he left the office, for now he must continue writing.
Do you remember what we used to say to each other? When the nights were unbearably cold and we shared a tent? It seems like eternity ago, like a whole different universe. You used to let me hold you, even if you were afraid someone would see us. No one saw us, John. You could have leant into my touch more so than you did. You could have held me back.
Alexander remembered it well. He remembered everything about John like he had seen him just yesterday. Those curls, those soft curls that bounced with his every movement. They had been such a pleasure to run his fingers through. His freckles, littering everywhere on him like galaxies across his skin. They were so lovely, no matter how much John himself seemed to dislike them. His laugh, loud but like jingle bells on a sleigh. It was raw music. His smiles, his passionate thoughts, the way he kept fighting even when he didn't have to anymore because he just wanted to free the slaves.
Did angels land on earth, only for God to take them away again?
"Alexander, come down for supper!" Eliza's warm voice flooded through his thoughts. Yes, John might be gone, but he had Eliza. Oh, had he really almost forgotten about her and Philip? His
wife and beloved son. He loved them just as much as he had John.
"So you're with Eliza now?" The words rushed out of John's mouth like had been waiting to say them all night. Alex kept his gaze on the stars they were lying under. He had known this would come up in conversation. He had known John would wait until they were alone to bring it up.
"Yes, it does not mean I adore you any less though," John took awhile to answer him after that.
"Oh but of course, I understand that you still must marry like any normal man."
Alexander shifted his gaze from the stars to John, who laid there with a sorrowful expression. It was hard to explain to him that he loved both Eliza and John equally. It would be hard to explain to anybody. How could a man have two significant others at the same time? Let alone, one of them another man?
He chose not to try to explain it at that moment. "Yes, like any normal man."
Eliza knocked softly on his study door before opening it. She surveyed the sight of Alex writing, like he always was, and came up behind him. She rested a hand on his shoulder, he jumped out of surprise and placed an arm over his papers.
"My goodness, Betsy, you scared me right out of my thoughts." He had a playful smile on his face when he turned to look at her. She smiled back at him.
"I just wanted to know if you were holding up well, I know Laurens was a dear friend of yours." She had much concern behind her voice, and Alex loved her all the more because of it. Always motherly. Always considerate. Even when he didn't deserve it in the least. He placed a hand on top of hers and moved to kiss it tenderly.
"Yes, I am doing fine. I will be down in a minute. Thank you Eliza." She gave him a look, like she was deep in thought, and Alex was sure she had seen the tear lines that he had tried to hide. He kept a smile on his face even if, and she patted his back and turned to leave the cluttered study.
"I expect you down in no more that five minutes."
Alex looked back at the papers on his desk, at the letter he would never be able to send to John, and realized one thing: he must somehow make it unreadable incase anyone should fine it.
The candle next to him flickered as a particularly strong breeze wafted in. He knew how he would do it.