Aaron Bur, Sir
A/N: Hi, I'm The-Non-Socialite, and I am so happy you have chosen to read this story. I love and appreciate all of you so much. I would love it if you could spare 30 seconds to leave a review, but no pressure. This is my first Hamilton Fanfiction and I've become a huge Lam's shipper. Almost (just kidding, all of my chapters will) feature some mention self-harm or some other form of abuse. This is a hard subject for a lot of people, so if you aren't comfortable with it, please don't read my story. Also, if you have experienced these difficult themes, feel free to PM me, I am happy to talk. I am here for all of you. Thanks so much
-TNS
Later that night, the whole house was eating the rest of Alexander's French Toast (he had made enough for at least three meals). Everyone was shoving the food sown their throats as possible without choking. Well, everyone except for Lee, who was dealing with a horrible toilet accident. Somehow, several rolls of tissue paper had been stuffed down into the toilet, and Lee was having to fish it out by hand.
"Okay, kids, what are we doing tomorrow?" Martha asked. No one answered, their mouths being as full as they were. Finally, Alexander choked down the last bite of his, coughing in his eager to suggest an activity.
"Let's go to the park," Alex said "There's plenty of things to do there. And I heard there's going to be a Frisbee tournament happening later," Alex harbored a love for Frisbee. It was one of the only physical activities he exceled at.
"Sure Alex," Laf scoffed, words garbled by his food "Let's play the sport you are awesome at and we all suck at," he paused and turned around to look at another one of his friends, a tall, muscular teen named Hercules Mulligan. Herc was the adopted son of the Washington's, he had been their child for almost a year. Cursed with an amazing potty-mouth, and the ability to turn almost anything dirty, everybody loved him. "Well maybe except for Herc," Laf amended.
"Ha, you know it Biiiiiiiit-" Herc laughed as Martha flung her hand over his mouth.
"No cursing at the table," She scolded "That's a great idea Alex. If Lee is ever finished plunging that toilet, he can join us." Everybody nodded. Alex wondered why this place was called a home for delinquents. The kids were all great. In Alex's opinion, it was more of a rehab for the slightly troubled.
Just as they were finishing up dinner, a knock came from the front door. Martha bustled to clean up the kitchen and shooed the smaller children up the stairs. She turned around to look at Alexander. He smiled and retreated upstairs, locking his door behind him. Alex wheeled around to his bedside table and uncorked his foundation. He rolled up his sweater sleeves and lathered it on, thick and heavy. The color was a little off, perhaps a shade lighter that his actual skin tone, but at least it was serving its purpose.
After he finished covering up the scars he combed his hair into a more presentable style. It was longer now, maybe down to his shoulders or a little past. He quickly roped it into a low pony tail, and unlocked the door. No one except George and Martha knew about his self-harm, and he intended to keep it like that. Downstairs, he heard Martha and George talking to someone, but he couldn't make out the words. As he inched closer to the front door, he could hear who George and Martha were talking to. It was Aaron Burr, the social worker who took care of "The Founding Father's". Alex had a strong dislike for the man. He was so successful, he had graduated early, was nice but vague, and everybody liked him. Everyone except for Washington. If Aaron Burr was there, it meant that he had another kid to drop off at the Mansion. Alex sighed. As much as he loved the Mansion, it was starting to get overcrowded. If Aaron had another kid with him, he would be forced to sleep in Alex's room, his fortress of solitude, his safe place, his area to let off steam, his one place where he could cut and no one would judge him for it. But that was going to be compromised.
He stopped towards the bottom of the staircase and prepared to eavesdrop. Snippets of their conversation could be heard from his position now.
"We found him in the hospital. His father abandoned him there," Aaron said
"Poor thing. Are you okay?" That was Martha's voice. No response came. Alex assumed that the subject of pity had nodded or shaken his head. "Don't worry, we'll take care of you. This is a safe place," Bar Lee, Alex thought scornfully. "What's your name?"
A mumbled response came, but it was so quiet that Alex couldn't make it out.
"Okay, how old are you? It's so we can decide what room to put you in," Alex finally heard George speak. Another mumbled answer replied, and George let out a little sigh. "That's fine. ALEXANDER!" George suddenly yelled. Alex jumped and nearly fell down the stairs. Damn, he had been caught.
"Coming sir," he called, putting a hand over his mouth so his voice was muffled a bit, as though he was talking from far away. He stomped on the steps a few times, mimicking the noise of going down stairs. Without pause, he whirled around the corner and burst into the drawing-room. Sitting in front of him were the Washingtons, Burr, and a small boy, maybe Alex's own age. He was short, but not as short as Alexander, who barely cleared 5' 6". He was obviously malnourished, despite being in a hospital, and was weak-looking. But even though he looked a mess, Alex saw a fire in his eyes, a desire to prove himself, a readiness to defend what he believed in. It also didn't hurt that he was incredibly handsome, with dark eyes and long curly hair, just longer than Alex's. His entire being was freckled, like tiny stars in the night sky, and God, Alex hoped he was gay. Before he could go further into his exploration of this strange, handsome, beautiful creature, he reminded himself that this guy would practically be his brother.
"Alex, this is John Laurens. Mr. Burr says he speaks fluent English, but for some reason, he's only speaking French. I would have called Laf down, but you're a little more... reasonable. Give it a try, would you?" George asked and Alex nearly ran back out the way he came. He had awful people skills, could hardly hold eye-contact with the person he was talking to, and French wasn't his first language. Still, he crouched down to John's level and began to speak.
"Bonjour, je m'appelle Alexander Hamilton. C'est un plaisir de vous rencontrer. Comment vous appelez-vous?" Alex lowed his voice to what he thought was a calming whisper.
Hello, my name is Alexander Hamilton. It is nice to meet you. What is your name?
"Je m'appelle John Laurens. Pourquoi suis-je ici? Où est mon père?" John whispered back
My name is John Laurens. Why am I here? Where is my father?
Alex turned around to face George "He is wondering why he is here, and," Alex choked a bit "Where his father is. He wants to know where his father is. What do you want me to tell him?"
Martha let out a little sob, but quickly composed herself "Introduce us and tell him why we are here. That's all, we'll talk to him later, when he is willing to speak in English." Alex nodded and returned his gaze to John.
"C'est Martha et George. Ils dirigent cette maison. C'est ce qu'on appelle "la maison des pères fondateurs". Vous êtes ici parce que ... parce que vous êtes comme nous."
That is Martha and George. They run this house. It is called Founding Father's House. You are here because...because you are like us.
John nodded, but didn't respond to Alex. Instead, he seemed to curl more tightly into a ball then he had before. George seemed to notice this, and he turned around to Alex.
"Show him to your room Alex. He'll be staying there as long as he is with us." George said. Alex translated what George had said and extended his hand for John to grab. Burr held his hand out to stop Alex.
"Hey, stop! He doesn't like physical contact!" He was interrupted by John Laurens sliding his hand into Alex's. Alex shot Burr a triumphant glare and heaved John of the couch. John stumbled a bit, almost collapsing on shaking legs. Alex put steadying arm underneath John's armpits, beginning to haul him out of the room when John shoved Alex's arm off of him. He continued to walk, limping a little.
"Um... it's the other way," Alex said in French, showing him up the staircase. He walked a few paces behind John, making sure that he would be able to catch John if he were to fall.
"Here it is," Alex said, gesturing to the room at the back of the hallway. He realized later that he hadn't used French, but John still nodded and limped towards Alex's room. He opened the door without Alexander and settled himself into a corner, ignoring the bed that was clearly in the middle of the room. Despite his aversion to the bed, Alex could see the sleep gathering in John's eyes. His eyelids dipped low over his dark eyes, but John forced them open.
"I'm going to get an air mattress. You can take my bed tonight until we can get you your own," Alex offered. He was still speaking in English, but John didn't seem to notice. He slunk over to the bed and sat down.
"That's fine," John croaked, his voice raspy and uncertain with the words he was saying, obviously exhausted as he hadn't spoken in English in at least four days. Alex grinned, John could have sworn that the room lit up with his smile. Without another word, Alex turned and left the room, taking care to close the door softly as to not startle John, who was looking like some fragile bird, ready the take flight at the first loud noise.
Within two minutes, Alex had found the air mattress (a shitty thing, maybe four years old and covered with holes so it was basically a blanket because no air would stay in it.). He drug it out of the hall closet and brought it back to his room. By the time he had opened his bedroom door, John was already asleep, passed out on top of the covers, shivering as a cold wind blew through the open windows. Alex didn't even think about his actions as he grabbed a blanket and threw it over John's shoulders. Almost immediately, John's shivering ceased and he became still, bar the small puffs of air escaping his mouth. Alex spared a couple seconds to look over the small form huddled on his bed. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a heavenly glow over John. He looked almost other-worldly and maybe, Alex dared to say, peaceful.
Alex laid his air mattress next to his bed and hunkered down, not even bothering to change out of his clothes that he had worn that day. Sleeping in jeans wasn't as comfortable as sleeping in actual night-ware, but Alex was really tired. John's small breaths were calming and steady and it was enough to lull Alex to sleep. But unfortunately, with Alex, sleep never came without extra baggage. In his case, it was a ton of nightmare that plagued him non-stop.