Hi guys! I haven't done anything like this yet, but I'd love to give a shoutout to 05alex29hammy51, who's my editor and best friend IRL . I'd also just like to thank you for reading the first chapter of my first ever fanfic, deciding it was worth your time and then reading another chapter. An extra special thank you to anyone who's reviewed or favourited! :)
Madison's POV:
'It pains me to see him like this. To see him happy, but only on the surface. Knowing that it is just a façade, just a performance. Of course he didn't tell anyone else what he was feeling. Of course I was the only one he confided in.
He struts to class. He looks contented, looks fulfilled- but I can see through that. He is hollowed out, he is different. Dissatisfied with his debating, made even less so by Hamilton's great concluding speech.
Still magnificent, still beautiful but less sure of himself. Less confident- although Thomas still pretends to be (and does a pretty convincing job of it) he's not.'
Jefferson worried me. Every time this happened, I felt parts of me, sections of my flesh being slowly and painfully stripped away until all that remained was the walking, talking skeleton of a nervous highschooler who was broken. Lost. Afraid. Tormented by his own feelings towards his best friend. Needing someone to talk to, someone to confide in.
I knew what I had to do. I didn't want to, but at this point in time I didn't really have a choice.
I approached John, fully aware of the awkwardness of the situation. He was the first to speak-
"Congratulations on the debating win, by the way", with a warm, heartfelt and generous smile on his face. He loved the art module we were completing- it was a project involving watercolours. He was so very happy, with a smile that just radiated peaceful bliss.
That smile that I was about to crush.
I didn't have to. I could have chosen to figure it out some other way. I should've just sat down and thought it over. But instead I continued on.
"Thanks a heap John." I reply, " But enough about that- I have something I need a little help with".
"... Yes?"
I explained it to him. Everything, in detail. How I had feelings towards Jefferson. Why he worried me in such an emotional manner. How him and Angelica were the perfect high school couple, and I might just ruin everything. How I should have been happy for them. I just let it all out, let it all pour out of my mouth in a strange and emotionally charged form of verbal diarrhoea. It was therapeutic just telling this all to someone who wasn't really involved, and telling it to someone who I knew I could trust. Sure he was dating Alex but he'd never share any of this. He never had and never will. I could trust Laurens.
Pausing thoughtfully, John preceded to give me some good advice:
" Me and Alex might be boyfriends now, but there was a time when I was like you: when I thought that there was no way he was anything but straight. Of course I'm not a prime example because of, well (he gestured wildly with his hands) that but what I would say is your best bet is to just let him know that he's worrying you, but that you're there for him, whatever it is that is making him moody, and that you always will be because the two of you are (pardon the middle school vocabulary) besties. The best you can do would be to just be supportive and show him that you do care, because it can be easy for high-flying A-grade intellectuals to remember that sometimes. And I wouldn't worry about Angelica because she's obviously never going to become the girlfriend of literally anyone in the near future."
Laurens literally just gave me a massive hug, which I shrank away from at first but then enjoyed. "Sorry, it's just... whenever Laf, Herc or Alex get like this it just... It just helps them chill out a little. Loosen up, be more chill." Letting go he composed himself and continued on with his watercolours. "Au revoir, mon ami. You must get back to your work!"
The rest of the day was mediocre. English was good- I got to help out Thomas with his monologue, which was some needed time together, but apart from that it was hardly anything special. He was still moody and still worrying, sure, but to a lesser extent. John had made everything just a touch more bearable. And that would be enough.
Jefferson's POV:
I don't know why, but I felt rather tired out for the last half of the day. Actually, that's a lie. I knew what was making me tired and grumpy- more than the fact that I was normally a morning person, I had just been forced to slog through Economics without Madison or even Burr, and had to name the G7 in geography.
Now, in my second period of Art for the day, at least I had a supportive and very small friend who would listen to my ranting and would just be there for me. Though at the time I wasn't the happiest, looking back I can just see how lucky I was to have someone like that.
Madison's POV:
My charcoal portrait of Thomas was coming along nicely, especially considering the fact I didn't even have a reference image. I didn't need one. I had memorised the layout of his face, every hair, every crevice, the shape of his eyes, the shape of his lips...
On my own, pretending he's beside me
All alone, I walk with him till morning
Without him, I feel his arms around me
"Madison, the fact that you are obviously deeply engrossed in your artmaking, whilst being beautifully romantic doesn't give you license to sing like a girl."
Hamilton taunted me whilst continuing his Dali-esque canvas portrayal, and I panicked, feeling more anxious with every minute.
Jefferson's POV:
Oh. no.
Alex and his buddies were harassing James, prodding him, poking him, teasing him, and I could see him shrinking. He was shrinking- both physically and emotionally- curling up into a petite bundle of worry.
"Guys, my friend over here would really appreciate it if you stopped teasing him. In fact, he would probably appreciate it if you shut your mouths and went back to where you came from. To make it clear, you get your sorry butt back to Nevis, you hightail it back to France and you run on home to that tailor's shop and just stop it. All of you."
Now Alex, Herc and Laf began to say stuff about me. How I was popular just because of my ability to talk at a high volume and how no-one really liked me. Although this wasn't anything I couldn't deal with, James turned around, angry as a three year old who had been denied sugar, and shouted in their faces, "You said WHAT about my friend?"
His face betrayed it all. He was scared, worried, in need of protection and needed something, some tiny scrap of hope to cling to.
"I can fight my own battles, thanks."
Madison's POV:
'Oh god, oh god, oh god. I stuffed up majorly. Thomas knows, Hamilton knows, Hercules knows, the whole world may as well know that I have a big ol' crush on my best friend.'
Some ancient Greek philosophers likened the human mind to a palace but in that instant mine was a prison, shutting me in on all sides. I was doing that thing- that thing where I totally flip out but physically I don't do anything- I just stare blankly at whatever happens to be ahead of me with a look of intense fear and anxiety.
I stiffened up. I, I... I was so angry and alone and lost and frightened. I could feel the nervous energy coursing through my veins, making my hair stand on end. I was shaking. My finger twitched.
Jefferson's POV:
His finger twitched and then he fell. He collapsed forward into a heap on the floor, looking like a deflated balloon. I felt horrible, I felt sick to my stomach. My friend, my beautiful, vulnerable friend had just fainted after a panic attack while I stood there, looking to the world like the selfish brat that I was, doing nothing to help him. I bent down to James, scooping the small boy up into my arms and carrying him to my desk where I then rested his head on my arm and he just lay on my lap for the time being.
He looked so peaceful, all the fear and all the pain that normally occupied his face had vanished, replaced with a look of serenity, a tranquil calm.
Madison was, and still is, gorgeous. His miniature yet still prominent cupid's bow added an element of structure to his soft face, and though he was out cold he was blushing, deep pink roses lining his cheekbones.
And his lips, his soft, red, glossy lips, I could go on for hours just about his face in that moment before he woke up and all the peace was shattered, like the glass on a car windscreen during a head on collision.
