CHAPTER 3

John was certain he was having a nightmare. A surreal and vivid and completely fucked up kind of nightmare. His father, his southern baptist homophobic father, was standing in the same room as not only his former lover and best friend, but the gay porn star his secretly gay son was secretly following to secretly not crush on his not so secretly queer best friend. He couldn't even begin to process that the gay porn star was his roommate, let alone how in the world he was going to get through the school year living with the man. That just felt like some twisted practical joke. He'd like to wake up now.

"Alexander Lin Hamilton?" Lafayette asked with a smile.

John perked some upon hearing the middle name, but pointedly kept his mouth shut on the matter. So Lin was a name of his. Lin—No, not Lin, Alex's eyes narrowed on Lafayette for a moment but he smiled none the less. "Yeees, and who might you be?"

"Marie-Joseph Daveed Paul Yves Roch Gilbert Chris du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette," the french man supplied with a flourish and a bow. "But I know that is a lot to remember, so just Lafayette will do."

"Heh, well then you can just call me Alex." He nudged John a bit, giving him a peculiar look. "I assume Lafayette is not your father...?" And he gestured to the only other male in the room.

"Leh—Alex, this is my father, Henry Laurens Senior," John finally supplied, trying not to let on that he almost slipped up. "Father, this is...I guess my roommate, Alex."

"Henry senior, huh?" Lin—no, Alex held out his hand for Henry to shake. "Does that mean there's a junior somewhere, sir?"

"John's younger brother is a freshman this year," Henry replied shaking the young man's hand. "What are you in for Alex?"

"Law, same as John. He was telling me about it on our way up." Lin—Alex smiled.

"Oh yeah, was he complaining about how I'm a terrible father for wanting him to pursue it, like he always does?"

"You know, I can honestly say he wasn't. But I mean, what parent doesn't want their child to be a lawyer or a doctor." John's father smiled at Alex's words. For a moment John stood in dumbfounded shock as Alex charmed his father with a demeanor John still couldn't believe he was seeing. Well, he could, he'd seen it himself after all, just not with his clothes on. "It's a lot of work to complete, to be sure though. I honestly can't say I have no complaints about it all either, if I could be so frank, sir. Still, I think John is lucky to have a father that wants the best for him."

"Where's your family from, Alex?"

"The Caribbean, non?" Lafayette interjected. Again, Alex seemed put off but smiled only after the french man added, "I found your Facebook."

"You're checking up on my roommates now too?" John said, giving his friend a pointed look.

The french man shrugged nonchalantly. "I had three coffees and some free time. Besides, someone should care about if you are going to be rooming with a killer or non."

John forced a smile and rounded up his french friend with a strategically placed hand to his back and a nudge toward the room's private bathroom. "I'm sorry Alex, if you'll excuse us for a moment I'll just have a word with him about how incredibly invasive that kind of behavior is. Isn't that right, Laf?"

"I found nothing that was not shared with the public internet," the man replied with a sheepish grin. Still he headed for the bathroom anyway, sensing John's unease. "But you do not sound like a killer so I think we will get along just fine!" Alex chuckled nervously, even as John closed the door behind them, locking them in the small bathroom. John pushed Laf as far as they could go into the room, a whole whooping five feet and bemused by his friend's antics, Lafayette ventured, "what has gotten into you all of a sudden, mon ami?"

"How much did you dig up on Alex?" John asked, his voice low. "Like, what do you know about him?"

The french man shrugged. "Nothing too interesting. He does not post to social media very often. He must use it mostly to keep in contact with some family members. He has two brothers, they are older them him, one of them is a half brother; I think they share the mother."

"Anything else?"

"He writes poetry."

"And?"

His friend chuckled. "And what? There is little else to say, Alex does not seem like a bad guy. Have I worried you somehow?"

"You..." John's voice trailed as he watched his friend's face. "You really don't know anything else...?"

"Is there something else I should know?" He raised a brow at the younger male then a realization crossed his mind. The French man smiled conspiratorially. "Ahhhh, tu le trouves attractif, tu veux l'embrasser."

John slapped at Lafayette's chest with the back of his hand, heat raising to his cheeks. "Lafayette, be serious!" he hissed lowly. "I need to tell you something and I need you to help me deal with it without freaking out or letting my family know about it and I really, really, really need your support and for you to not judge me right now, I mean it." He froze under the weight of his friend kissing his forehead. His cheeks burned.

"You have it, mon amie. What do you need to tell me?"

John took a deep breath. Outside of the bathroom he heard his mother and siblings enter the room and he took the opportunity to hurriedly whisper, "Alex is a gay porn star."

"WHAT?!" Lafayette nearly screamed, but John slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Marie-Joseph Daveed Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette," he hissed into his friend's ear, using his full name to hold the man's attention. "You cannot speak of this to ANYONE, do you understand me? On your honor, on your life, you swear to me that you will take this with you to your grave! It stays between you and me."

The other shook his head free of John's hand. "And Alex?" Lafayette asked, his own voice just as hushed.

"No!" John hissed back. "No! Not even Alex! You can't tell ANYONE. Not. A. Single. Soul. Do you swear to me?"

Lafayette leaned in and kissed John chastely on the lips. "Mes lèvres sont scellées par ce baiser," he breathed against them. "But I want details. Tonight. Over dinner. After we deal with your family and get the rest of your things from storage. Do we have an accord?"

"If it buys your silence for now, then yes. Of course. I'll tell you anything you want to know. Later."

"Wait, how did you know this about him and I did not?"

John rolled his eyes. "How the hell do you think I knew? I recognize him!"

"You...watch porn?"

John looked away, avoiding the sad eyes his friend gave him and let go of the man's shirt. He knew Lafayette had some hang ups with the medium and of course the fact that he'd kept his viewing habits under wraps for the better part of a year now probably weren't going to help that. "Yes, I do. But now is not really the time to get into that, can we talk about this later, please? Dinner remember? Help me to not freak out that my freaking father is out there talking to a guy that sucks dick for a living, okay?"

"Okay, okay," Lafayette said, moving back toward the door. "But you have so much explaining to do."

"I know. Dinner."

"Dinner," his friend repeated. He opened the bathroom door into John's dorm room, they both found Alex still working his charm, but now it had extended to the whole of John's family. "I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory," his melodic voice recited, the words of rhythmic poem flowing out to a captivated room.

"But now I see it swirling all around me

The ear-piercing shrieks of the distressed

The thunder, the lighting, the unrest

Chaos, with no beat, no rhythmic melody

I'm helpless

Now made humble, a contempt fool

Worthless

For how dare I offend the omnipotence above me

Whose nod alone would quell the sea

The wind, the rain, the utter destruction hovering over me

And with a sweep of His hand, set my spirit free

But does He work as my friend, or an enemy?

If this should be the end of me I wish it were a friend with me

I cannot out run it, none of us shall, so I surrender to be done in by it—"

Alex stopped as his eyes caught sight with John's, and he smiled. "Ahh, you're back then." John could almost feel his knees weaken under him.

"I told you his poetry was good," Lafayette said with a grin.

"Oh, Lafayette!" John's mother said as she spotted the two. "I could barely believe Martha when she told me you were back in the states! How are you, my dear?" Stepping further into the room, John exchanged a look with his sister. As much as their father hated Lafayette, their mother simply adored him.

"Mademoiselle Mère Eleanor!" Lafayette said excitedly. He grasped her hands in his and kissed each of her checks in turn and then her fingers just to be sure. "You look just as lovely as the first day I ever laid eyes on you! I still wish to run away with you, have you reconsidered at all?"

"Oh, stop Lafayette!" John's mother giggled. "You know I am a married woman. I simply couldn't."

"Alas! My heart...it breaks!"

"Oh come now, you don't need a withered old maid like me."

"Withered? Where? Non, non, non, I do not see it mon cheri. You could not be over 29!"

"Indeed," Alex chimed in with a smile. "I mean, even I can see where your lovely daughters get their good looks from."

John's mother giggled. "Oh you boys are sweet, but alas, my youth has long gone, I gave it up for five beautiful children. Speaking of, Martha is currently single."

"Moooooooom!" Martha obligatorily whined. Her brother's each snickered.

"I call dibs on Lafayette, you can take Alex." Mary spoke up. Again, Martha and John exchanged glances while their brothers and Alex laughed. For a moment John watched his father's heckles raise and he steeled himself to the idea of moving between the man and his siblings if it came down to it. But their mother ignored any mounting tension as if it simply weren't there.

"Did you get a chance to hear some of Alex's poem, Lafayette? Wasn't he marvelous?"

Alex himself blushed then and rubbed at the back of his neck. "It's really nothing. Just a poem I keep in my head. I think it changes every time I think about it."

"Have you considered writing it down?" John's mother went on to ask. "You clearly have a bit of talent."

"Once or twice," Alex replied. "And thank you, Ma'am. That is kind of you to say. But I think it prefers to stay in a fluid state in my head. Some poems get written, some want to stay more intangible."

"Why are you studying law when you can string words along like that?" Martha asked, following her mother's lead.

"Because being a lawyer pays better," Alex replied with a chuckle and small smile. "And my love of words and rhythms is rivaled only by my passion for law. I can be a writer on my own time but my bills need to be paid first."

"This is a smart man," Henry Sr. said. John slowly let out a sigh of relief, seeing his father decide to disregard the earlier upset. He's body posture did not relax however. "John could stand to learn a thing or two from you this year. I'm glad he'll share a room with you, Alex."

"I think John is glad he gets to room with Alex as well," Lafayette said, with a sly nudge. "It is clear he is a man of many talents." John smiled and nodded, then elbowed his friend when his father looked away again, turning to give the still unapologetic grinning French man his own Look.

"Well John, it looks like your brothers did you a service by bringing all your stuff up for you," Henry Sr. said.

"Yeah, dingus," Henry jr. spoke up. "Where the hell were you and your boyfriend making out this time?"

"Henry Elijah Laurens Junior!"

"Well Look At Them Mom!" the young man yelled defensively as what little ease had crept into the room was suddenly gone. "They Both Look Guilty As Sin! And We All Know John Is A Faggot!" For a moment the room went dead silent. John felt like he'd been punched in the gut. The word itself wasn't new to him, it was one of his father's favorites after all, but he'd never heard it from his brother before. The bigotry stung and John didn't even know where to begin with what to say. His face and chest burned with anger and embarrassment. He wanted to punch his brother who actually had the audacity to look at him after he'd said that with some mixture of hurt and sorrow as if trying to non-verbally communicate that he didn't really mean it. The room seemed to blot out for a minute, his only focus being on the boy in front of him and his own inner rage. A hand grabbed his wrist and that's when he realized he had raised his fist to strike. Martha had moved between him an his brother, his mother was yelling some spiel at him for even daring to think to react with violence. John came back to reality with a snap of Lafayette's fingers; he was the one gripping John's wrist.

"John Anthony Laurens! What do you have to say for yourself?" his mother was scolding. John took a deep breath, trying to break up the anger still settled inside himself. "Well?"

"I'm sorry," John recited, a response he knew was better to just spit out rather then argue any point with his parents about. The grip his friend had on his wrist served as an anchoring point for him and he silently willed the man not to let go even though he heard the disappointment in the french man's next exhale.

"Sorry for what, John?" his father prompted.

"Sorry that I tried to hit you, Henry," John hissed, glaring at his father as he said it. "Dunno why I got so mad really. After all, you were just doing like Dad does and reminding me of what I am, after all."

"Well, I don't know about that," Alex interjected and John silently kicked himself as he remembered the man was still standing in the room. Alex shifted a bit as everyone's eyes fell on him. "Faggot, noun, number 1: a collection of sticks to be used as kindling; number 2: a bundle of herbs, usually bay leaf, thyme and parsley, tied to one another and used in cooking as seasoning; number 3: British slag for a cigarette; number 4: A food made from a pig's heart, liver and the stomach meat, minced and then all mixed together with breadcrumbs and herbs, it is then shaped into balls, wrapped in caul fat from the pig's omentum, cooked by baking them in an oven, and usually served with gravy and mashed potatoes." Alex smiled charmingly. "That last one is quite good actually, don't let the ingredients put you off from trying it if you have a chance, it's really just a meatball. But I believe we can all agree that John is obviously none of those things, so I dispute the claim that he is a faggot."

"That's not what that word means—"

"Oh, I can assure you, all of those meanings are in fact tied to that word. I like to study words, remember? I like to know every meaning that could possibly be attached to them, and yes, I am aware of the meaning that you meant by using such a word, Henry. But with so many meanings that speak to so many other things I feel that it is you who don't understand it's meaning as well as you thought you did."

"Yes, thank you Alex," Eleanor said, touching his arm in an endeared way. "The phrase you were looking for was 'mentally ill,' Henry." Alex's smiled faded some. "You know your brother has a condition but that doesn't mean you need to bring it up into every conversation. Oh and Alex dear, please don't be worried about John hurting you. We've had him in therapy for many years and with medication and prayer he is working through it every day."

"I was not aware they had made a pill to cure gay," Lafayette stated flatly.

"John's medication is for other symptoms he has that accompany his condition, but we have hope that one day science will find a way to cure him for good too."

"Perhaps you should look into some of the same treatments, Laughingyet," Henry Sr said, ignoring his wife's loud sigh. "It might do you some good too."

"Why would I," the french man said with a shrug. "I wake up every morning loving myself just the way I am, there is nothing wrong with that. And it is said as Lafayette."

"Hey, mom, dad?" Martha interjected before either of her parents could respond. "I hate to have to be that person, but it's been about six hours since you fed your children this morning and we're getting a little hungry." She nudged James and Mary who each started in on what sounded like clearly rehearsed pleads for food. "Also, if you want to get back on the road to drop me off and still be on the road home before dark, I think we should do lunch now and get a hustle on that yeah?"

"Oh yes, of course," their mother said. "Alex, you said you didn't have any family in town, right?"

"That is correct, Mrs. Laurens."

"Oh please, call me Eleanor. You should come with us to lunch then. I want to know more about the charming young man my son will get to spend the year with."

"Do you have anywhere else you need to be, La-fay-yet?" Henry Sr asked.

"Non," the french man replied, choosing this time not to comment on the man's pronunciation of his name.

"Then I suppose you can come along too, if you're so inclined."

"Merci," Lafayette replied coolly, a sly smirk on his face. "Truly Monsieur Laurens is very kind."

John wanted to just crawl into a hole and die. It seemed like this day was just never going to end.

He'd been twirling piles of noodles into little spaghetti mounds for the better part of 15 minutes now, the surrealist feeling of the day having long ago lost it's shock value but now John felt like he was just floating in a cloud. He could hear the sounds around him but they felt far away, like maybe they were coming from a movie he was watching and not his own surroundings. His hands twisted the fork around and around and around on his plate, but he didn't feel like he was the one doing it. Chunks of a cut up meatball sat on his plate, Alex's words from earlier putting him off from eating them. He couldn't even remember ordering spaghetti and meatballs.

He was faintly aware that he was beginning to disassociate, but honestly he couldn't bring himself to care that much about it. After all, it was fairly common for him to just stare at a plate of food while his family collectively ignored that he had recently been upset so he couldn't fault them for doing that now. It was easier for him to just let it happen. It was safer for everyone involved if he just let that happen.

He looked over at Alex, smiling and conversing with his family as if he was the son that belonged among them. Perfect little social butterfly, he'd even managed to smooth over his little brother's hurt feelings about being chastised for his derogatory language and had him laughing at some tale Alex was telling about...about...about something he couldn't follow. John could hear his words, but his mind was having a hard time making them make sense. It was just noise. It might as well have been the innocuous ticking of a clock or the whir of a fan blowing air in the background.

A hand brushed against his thigh, and John looked over to see Lafayette giving John a worried look. John couldn't understand what would trouble him. John felt fine. Well, John didn't feel anything actually, which was as close to fine as John was ever gonna get in life. The point is that John didn't feel scared or sad or angry or hurt. John didn't feel anything. John could barely feel John. John just wanted to sit and twirl John's little piles of noodles forever and ever. At least John thought that's what John wanted. That's what John was doing anyway. That was okay.

A hand found it's way into John's other hand and John looked down at it briefly. It was Lafayette's hand. It squeezed John's hand twice under the table and his mind recalled a memory of a code he shared with the french man, a way they would tell each other they loved one another when John couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. He squeezed back and ran his thumb around in a circle, feeling the bones inside his friend's hand. The world seemed to come into focus a bit.

"..." Lafayette asked him. He saw the man's lips move, but the noise all blended together. He couldn't make out words. Maybe he was speaking French and John had the oddest thought that he forgot to turn on the french speaking part of his brain. That wouldn't do, he couldn't speak to Lafayette if he didn't turn on the French in his brain; it would be like sticking a cake in the oven when it hadn't been preheated.

He nodded slowly. He wasn't ready to come back into the present completely, but he didn't want his friend to worry about him. Some distant part of himself wanted to lean in and kiss Lafayette but some muffled sound of danger contradicted the thought and he ended up just headbutting the man from the side. Laughter from the rest of the table made him look down the way to Alex again.

It wasn't fair how much his parents seemed to love Alex when they didn't know the things he'd done on camera for John. A jealous, bitter part of him wanted to out Alex right there on the spot, shove it in his parent's faces that they were so found of a sex worker, someone their own gay son paid to see fuck himself with toys and fondle himself so John could feel like he wasn't fucking broken like they made him believe...he took a deep breath and turned back to his plate of noodles. Those were unpleasant feelings to have. He didn't want to have them. They wouldn't help anything anyway and acting on them would be incredibly self-destructive.

He felt like being self-destructive.

He squeezed Lafayette's hand a little tighter.

"So Alex, what do you currently do for a living?"

He smiled charmingly at the older man. Alex knew it was a fair question to ask, but he hated, hated, that people always did. "Oh me?" he perkily said none the less. "I work a simple customer service job for a small company at a center where I handle incoming customer service needs." That usually sounded vague enough that people thought he was trying to make a call center or secretary job sound more fancy then it was. Across the table, John dropped his silverware onto his plate and started laughing. Lafayette chuckled to himself beside him.

"Is something funny over there, boys?" Henry Sr. asked.

"I was showing John pictures of cats wearing pants on my phone," Lafayette replied. John continued to giggle to himself, though Alex couldn't help but notice that it didn't sound like the giggles of mirth.

"Lafayette, you know we don't allow phones at the table, dear," Eleanor reminded him. "Table time is family time."

"Does that mean Lafayette and Alex are both part of our family now?" Mary asked.

"They can't be family until they marry someone in the family already, Mary!" James shot from his end.

"I am trying, but your mother keeps saying non for some reason," Lafayette shot back with a mock look of offense. Most of the table laughed at the joke. He heaved a comically heavy sigh. "Alright, then I guess I must settle." He reached over and stole an onion ring off Alex's plate. "Martha Rachel Laurens," he said turning to the woman sitting beside him, "would you make me the happiest man in the wor—"

"No," she cut in, a smirk on her face.

"Inherited your mother's brains I see," the french man countered. "They will take you far." He turned and offered the onion ring to Mary, who nodded excitedly though he wasn't able to get a word in before the eldest Laurens man stood up from his seat, looming threateningly.

"Henry!" Eleanor chastised her husband. "Sit down, no one thinks he's being serious! It's an onion ring for Christ's sake!"

Alex glanced between the glower of the older man and the way Lafayette's own gazed matched it. "Well, since you're ou~ut," Alex half sang as he snatched his onion ring back from Lafayette. He held it first to Martha who again declined, although this time with a scared shake of her head. Then, in an effort to drive Eleanor's point home, he held it out to John. "John Laurens, I know we just met, but will you marry me so that I may be adopted into your family?" The table went dead silent. John stared at the onion ring for an uncomfortably long moment, then reached forward and took it from Alex, crushing it in his fist. His face remanded blank the entire time and Alex felt unsettled, though whether it was due to the silence of the table or the weird way John was acting, he wasn't sure. "Hey, a simple no would have sufficed, eheh."

"Alex dear," Eleanor said gently, reaching a hand over to pat his. "Need I remind you of my son's condition? I must ask you not to make jokes about such things at his expense, it leads him to temptation and we want John to stay on the right path. Besides, God doesn't think those kinds of jokes are very funny."

"With all due respect ma'am, I think it is very hubris indeed to think any mere mortal such as ourselves would know what god thinks," Alex countered. "Especially when it comes to their humor."

"That's why the bible makes it very clear for us."

"I see," he replied. "Well, at least concede that I was only trying to help." He eyed the angry man standing next to him, trying to gauge how much more he might be willing to be pushed. "No one in their right mind would take an onion ring marriage proposal seriously. Especially from a couple of young, scrappy and hungry college kids. Besides, I think your children were raised to be smart enough to know when something being offered to them isn't real."

"Really Henry, they were just being boys."

"That's exactly what concerns me," the man said as he sat back down. "I know what boys are like. You'll each keep your hands off my daughters." Turning to Alex he added, "And my son." Alex pointedly looked away, pretending the unspoken threat didn't phase him or that sitting next to John's father didn't suddenly gave him a deep sense of unease. He suddenly noticed the way each of the children had gone quiet and still, as if afraid to draw their father's wrath to them and for just a moment Alex was reminded of the only other time he had ever seen such a quiet and still calm when a storm was cast overhead. He caught Lafayette's eye and made note to ask him about some things when they were in private.

Beside him John sat still and expressionless, still clutching the crushed onion ring in his hand so tightly that oil dripped from between his fingers and into his plate of uneaten food.

He felt his episode clearing as his family was hugging him goodbye outside his dorm. Like waking up from a dream that left him feeling more tired then before he went to sleep and disappeared as the light of dawn crept through his bedroom window. Reality faded back into focus, people's words made sense again, and fragmented memories of however long he'd been out for tried desperately to fill in any gaps or answer the questions of where he was and how he had gotten there. Something in his mind knew it was time for him to have a better grasp on what was going on around himself and it let him drop back into his own body like a pebble in a pond. After years of snapping into and out of episodes to cope, John responded as if he wasn't internally wondering how in the world he'd gone from sitting in a restaurant to standing outside his own dorm building hugging his mother goodbye with a box of leftovers in his hand. He'd come back around in weirder situations after all.

"You call me if you need anything, alright?" his mother was saying. "I'll send you a box if you forgot anything."

"Okay mom." He kissed her cheek.

"Look out for your brother, alright? Make sure he doesn't get into trouble."

John sighed some but nodded. "Of course, Mom." He looked down as arms snaked around his waist and put on a smile for his youngest sister. "Hey, pipsqueak." He bent over her and hugged back, squeezing extra hard to convey his love and worry for her. She moved her arms from his waist and around his neck and he lifted her right off her feet, grounding himself in the feeling of her weight and the smell of the shampoo their mother bought in her hair. She giggled next to his ear and kicked her feet up behind her.

"Stop, stoooop!" she gasped with a laugh. "John, you're squeezing all the farts out of me!"

"Good," he said and kissed her cheek. "Then there will be nothing left but my sweet little sister." He leaned forward and let her drop her feet back under her before letting her go. "It'll be four months before I come back after all."

"You're not coming back for Thanksgiving?"

"That's four months away."

"Noooo, silly, it's three and some change." Mary counted off the months for him in her fingers and held them up. "See? Three."

"Hey, you're right," John said and patted her head. "And of course I'll be home for Thanksgiving, pipsqueak. Can't let you run wild, driving our parents up a wall, can I?"

"Promise?"

"I promise.

He smiled. "Be good. And call me or Martha if you need to talk about anything."

"I will!" his sister called as she bound away to climb back into the family car where their brother James was already sitting. John knocked on the window until his brother rolled it down. John knew his baby brother was going through a tough guy phase where he didn't want to do the mushy things like hug it out after a fight or a long goodbye. He was a senior in High school now. He was too cool for that. John held out his fist. James bumped it. That was all they needed.

Turning back around, John pretended not to notice how much more his parents dotted on his brother then him; he told himself it was just because it was Henry's first year away from home and nothing more. While Martha was taking her time squeezing in as much catch up as she could with Lafayette, John noticed Alex standing off to the side a bit uneasily. He bore a mild pout, and his eyes lingered on John's parent's as they said goodbye to their second son. As if sensing being watched, he looked over and John froze momentarily caught in Alex's gaze. Go say something, he told himself. Like what? I don't know, just don't be weird. Don't be queer. Say something not queer, yeah, good luck with that John. Nevertheless, he approached Alex with a little nod and a, "hey."

"Hey," Alex said. "Uh, listen, about what I said at lunch...I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. I was just trying to...it was stupid of me to ask that."

John tried not to show his confusion on his face. He couldn't recall most of the last few hours, even the memory of meeting Alex seemed kind of fuzzy now. The memory contained little more then his dark chocolate eyes staring back at him and a smile that threatened to make his pants uncomfortable. "Ummm," John stalled, thinking over his words carefully. "What, uhh, what—what did you say exactly? I—I might have forgotten."

Alex cocked his head to the side and gave John a puzzled look. "You don't remember me asking for your hand in marriage?"

Never before had alarms gone off inside John's head with such intensity. "What?" He grabbed Alex's arm. "You what?" He glanced quickly to make sure no one was looking and lowered his voice. "In front of my whole family? In front of my father?!"

"Yeah, I should have listened to you when you said he doesn't like that," Alex relented. He carefully tried to peel John's hand off him but the man just clutched the sleeve of his sweater tighter. "Look, I meant it as a joke, to make a point that your mother made about not taking such things seriously."

John felt nauseous, and extremely relived he hadn't been mentally present when that moment had taken place. He let go of Alex to lean back against the wall of the house and forced himself to breath for a moment, fighting the feeling of just floating away this time. Then another thought occurred to him and he looked back at Alex who was watching him curiously. "What did I say?"

"You...you really don't remember anything do you?"

He shook his head, feeling the curls of his hair catch on the rough brick texture of the house he was leaning his head against. Alex looked troubled by that, and John couldn't blame him. "I disassociate sometimes," he explained. "It's when I...I don't...It's not..."

"You're not present in your own head," Alex finished for him. John nodded. "I, uh, kinda got the impression that was going on."

"You're familiar with it?"

Alex shrugged and leaned against the wall with John. "I've had a few experiences with it before. Nothing where I didn't remember what happened, but I feel like I'm watching this weird movie of my life go by where I'm not actively in control of my emotions. I misplace things sometimes in those states. Like, this one time, I put my wallet in the freezer and spent all day tearing apart my bedroom trying to find it before I got yelled at for it. I was, ya know, 15 at the time. My therapist said it's just the brains way of dealing with trauma sometimes."

"My therapist says I do it because I'm gay and that if I just stop being gay all my problems will go away."

"Sounds like you need a new therapist."

"My father pays for it, so he's the one who gets the final say."

"Sounds like you need a sugar daddy."

John snickered at that, a small smile gracing his lips. "Does Laf count?"

"He ordered your meal for you and paid for everyone's lunch, so I would assume so."

"Really? How'd he manage to sneak the payment past my father? He never accepts that kind of thing from him."

"I caught him chatting to the host when we were being seated. Remind me to ask him what he does for a living that lets him pay for lunch for a party of nine."

Again John snickered. "Do me a favor and make sure I'm there when you do. He tells the best bullshit stories about how he makes his money, it's great. Thomas is still thinks he's rich because he copyrighted the color blue after inventing it by mixing purple and green together."

"What did he actually do?"

John shrugged. "He's never told me. I've known him for five years but money is something he doesn't discuss with me. I know whatever he makes, or has, it's enough that he doesn't need to be here living some ramen packet and avocado toast lifestyle. I don't know what he sees in it."

"I do."

He turned and gave Alex a puzzled look. "You've known him for less then a day and I'm his best friend. How could you possibly—"

"He sees you," Alex cut in.

"Yeah, that's exactly my point," John countered with a sigh. "You don't know him like I do."

Silence fell between them as John watched the rest of his family wrap up their individual conversations and get ready to leave. He smiled and waved to appease his mother, and pretended not to see the Look his father gave him. And finally five of his family members packed themselves back into the family station wagon and headed off to take his oldest sister to her college town, leaving John, his little brother, best friend, new roommate and a full box of left over lunch he'd hardly touched standing on the lawn of the student house John and Alex would be living in for the next four months.

"Thomas said he will be on his way shortly with his truck," Lafayette said, checking his phone as he walked over to where Alex and John had retreated. "We should be able to get the rest of your stuff out of storage and set up in a few hours, John."

"Count me out," Henry said as he turned away. "I've carried enough of John's baggage today, thank you. I'm going back to my dorm to see if my roommate has shown up yet." And with that he walked off.

"He is staying in Weld Hall, non?"

"Yeah," John answered his friend.

"Should we tell him he is heading in the wrong direction?"

"Nah, he'll figure it out and if he gets too lost he'll just call me later crying about it and we can pick him up then."

Alex snickered. "Oh, I've forgotten what older brothers were like."

"Builds character," John said.

"Did you have anything you needed to get out of storage?" Lafayette asked Alex as they headed back inside. "I can ask Thomas if it would be okay to pick up your things too. If you promise him some of his favorite whiskey he does not complain too much about the work and will love you very much." He grinned mischievously. "And I already have the whiskey."

"I'm okay," Alex replied. "I've actually gotta be at work here in a bit and I just wanted to unpack a few things before then, if that's alright? I mean, otherwise I would offer to help you move your stuff, John."

"Oh really? Is it close by? Can we walk you?"

"Uh, not really," Alex chuckled. "I'll be fine."

"Would you like a ride? I can ask Thomas—"

"NO," Alex cut in a little too sharply. He glared at Lafayette for just a moment, but then inhaled and relaxed. "No, I'll be okay. Thank you though." Lafayette raised a brow and exchanged a look with John that did not escape Alex's notice. He sighed, realizing that now he'd probably made them even more curious about what he did, and so went on. "Look, I'm vague about my job for a reason. The company I work for is very small and very private and we handle very sensitive client information. I can talk a lot about a variety of stuff, but if I ever slip up and say anything about work that I shouldn't have, then I'll be fired on the spot. I like to keep my work separate from my personal life and I would appreciate if you respected that."

"So much that you would not accept a ride from a friend?" Lafayette questioned.

"With all due respect," Alex countered, "We've only just met. And if you truly mean to befriend me then you'll respect my boundaries, so long as they're within reason and there is no reason for you to know anything more about my job then what I've already told you."

"You're right," John said before the french man could argue further. "Just...your job is a safe one, right? Sorry just...I mean with the vagueness and all...you could... could you even answer that?"

"I can," Alex replied. "And as long as it stays separate from my personal life, yes, it's safe."

"And legal?" Lafayette added. Alex narrowed his eyes at him before replying, "Yes, it's legal."

John nodded and threw Lafayette a glance meant to remind him about what they planned to discuss later. "Well, can I at least ask you when you might be coming back?" Lafayette asked. "Like I said, I will owe Thomas a drink for helping us and we will likely be drinking when you get back."

"Oh, I'm fine with that. Just save me a sho—" Alex started but was interrupted when the bedroom door swung open and a tall man wearing a deep fuchsia varsity jacket entered the room with a, "There You Assholes Are! I've been outside for the last 10 minutes, are we moving John's sorry gay ass into this shithole student house or what?"

"Fuck off, Thomas," John shot at him.

The man smiled. "Boy don't you give me any lip. I'm the one with a truck remember? Unless you think you can just haul all your stuff all the way across town on your own?" He nodded to Alex with his chin. "You the lucky bastard that gets to room with John for the next year?"

"Yeah, my name is Alex—"

"Yeah, Lafayette told me more then I needed to know. Are you coming with us to get John's stuff or staying here?"

"...I have work."

"Fair enough. My truck leaves in two minutes if your ass is in it or not. Move it or lose it people, let's go." And with that Thomas left.

"Who died and made him king?" Alex asked.

"He is not so bad once you get to know him."

"That's just code for 'he's an asshole but you learn to put up with him,'"John replied.

"Nooo, Thomas is nice," Laf refuted.

It was John's turn to scoff. "I spent one terrible, awkward first and only date with the guy that says otherwise, but alright Laf, if you say so." He gestured at the beds as he made his way toward the door. "Just go ahead and claim which ever bed you want, Alex. I'll figure out where to put my stuff around whatever you choose, okay? And uh, have a good day at work." He turned before his face got too red, thinking about what kind of work he knew Alex did. Lafayette followed him out, reaching to take hold of his hand.

"John?" He glanced back at his french friend as they walked and felt the familiar squeeze of his hand. "Are you really okay?"

"I will be." He felt Lafayette pull him back and into a hug, letting go of his hand only to wrap it around his waist. John tried to keep walking for a moment but stopped as it was too awkward to bumble onward with Lafayette's dead weight slowing him down. The halls and campus were mostly empty still, only a few other students having shown up for the early registration, but John still felt like there were eyes on them from all around. "C'mon Laf, you can smother me later, we have work to do." He felt the rough stubble of the french man's beard scratch against his neck and then his lips kissing him up to the patch of flesh behind his ear. A current of electricity ran up his spine and he became hyper aware of all the places their bodies were touching.

"Je t'aime, John," Lafayette murmured and he felt his face go red.

"I know," he replied. He held still in the the man's grasp, felling warmth and love and a sensation he couldn't honestly say he wanted to stop. But he didn't feed it, didn't lean into it, not physically anyway. With some reluctance the arms holding him loosened their grip and Lafayette nudged him forward again. His hand found it's way back to his friends and just like that the embrace was over. They continued forward. He thought he should say something, but then they never said anything after moments like that now. They happened, they both let them happen, but they had stopped acting on them and just let these moments happen without following them into anything more. And John didn't want to lose them by saying something. Lafayette was his best friend. He squeezed his hand and prayed he'd never have to loose his best friend again.

"Took you long enough," Thomas said as they climbed into the cabin of his truck. "Geeze where were you guys making out this time?"

"Fuck off Thomas," John sighed. He leaned his head against the window suddenly feeling very tired. The day just wouldn't end.

END CHAPTER