Hey. It's been a while. I know. Expect more stuff soon.

Too all the people just starting to read this, I have to say thank you and sorry. It gets better.

Also, I don't think most of you know I'm British, I am! Immigrant born Londoner. That sort of makes me feel better about my abilities of writing Americans, I don't know, I try. For that reviewer that asked about James' accent, I'll just say that he talks like those two morning presenters on BBC news, Naga and Dan. You know them if you're English.

The alternate universe story is going to be published soon. It'll probably be an M, but don't expect smut, I don't write that shit. I honestly think it's suitable for 13 plus, but to be safe, it's going to go past a T. I'll let you all know when it's published.

This chapter's okay. I could have spent more time on it, but I felt super bad about not updating. I've introduced someone new though...

Trigger warnings (this chapter's light): Hospitals, mention of suicide, mention of vaguely unhealthy relationship/ breakup, homophobia.

By the way, if you're Croatian, we're declaring war on you.


John Laurens' birthday presents were, as usual, many. Having a large number of siblings and being a popular, well-liked guy at school helped. He woke up to loads of messages on snapchat and instagram, people wishing him happy birthday and, as per the time honoured tradition, posting their ugliest photos of him along with a nice message about how they knew each other.

As for celebrations and presents with family, well, rich relatives and doting grandparents had surprised him with toys and sneakers as a kid, but began to run out of ideas and motivation for gifts as he got older.

See, it was the worst best-kept Laurens family secret that the second-oldest son of Henry Laurens was gay. Wealthy, conservative uncles, aunts and family friends began to keep their distance, what might have been video games and new nikes when he was thirteen became a book about the true Christian way of life and the path God has planned for you when he was sixteen.

However, there were the anomalies. An estranged liberal cousin who'd sent him fifty dollars for his fifteenth and some beats by dre headphones this year. His mother, who'd never seemed to mind the way her son's sexuality was swaying, sending him the books he'd added to his Amazon wish-list that summer. There were plans to visit her this Christmas. She lived down in South Carolina alone with her dogs, each time John visited, he could never shake the feeling that he might be happier there.

But now, there was Alexander. There'd always been Lafayette and Hercules to stop him leaving and now, the bond that tied him to this place had never been stronger.

He remembers his fifteenth birthday. A year ago, he'd been a mess. He'd stopped hanging around with Lafayette and Hercules, found himself a new crowd of friends that made him feel like he was rebelling. There was Francis, John had trailed behind him like an eager puppy, he'd been desperate some reason to not hate the fact that he only liked boys. He'd drank a lot on his fifteenth, stayed over at Francis' house as his parents hadn't been home.

He'd not made very good decisions that year, maybe Francis moving was a good thing. If he was still here today, John wasn't entirely sure they'd still be...

From his siblings there were home-made, glitter-streaked cards and candy. From Henry there was a pair of burgundy leather vans and from his girlfriend a small bracelet she'd picked up in Ibiza recently.

Then, from his father, two things. The first was a set of novels, two in French and one in Spanish. This, to John, was a thoughtful gift. Though, his father had always been pushy in his academic achievements, John had a vivid memory from when he was ten of the man taping up John's eighty-five percent French test beside Henry's ninety-seven one on the fridge.

The second was a card. John opened it expecting a message from his mother or a few hollow platitudes from his father on how, despite the difficulties they'd gone through in their relationship as father and son, the man still maintained hope that John would 'find his way'.

No such luck. It was, instead, an invitation.

John looked up from where he was sat on the sofa of their cold living room, an eyebrow cocked.

"Philip Schuyler's fundraising gala? Dad, I don't wanna go to that."

His father forced a smile, "it'll be an opportunity to meet the upcoming politicians and figures of the state. John Lee will be there, the Schuylers of course. Their daughters are your age, of a good family. Pretty, supposedly. You would know, Elizabeth is in your year?"

John nodded tersely, laid the invitation on top of the just-opened books in front of him. He didn't want to go to some gala, where Eliza would be just as awkward as him, sitting in the corner drinking fruit punch and shaking the clammy hands of slimy politicians.

They ate breakfast after opening John's presents. Mary and Martha lightening the mood of the table with jokes and stories of adventures at school, John's father smiling along, all the while maintaining a stony silence in the direction of his son.

John needed to get out of there.

He finished breakfast quickly, ignoring Martha's insistence of cleaning his plate herself.

"Jack, come on, it's your birthday, I'll do it!"

Half out of his seat already, he responded, "it's chill. I'll do it."

John pulled on a coat and shoes in his bedroom, unplugged his phone and pocketed it. Alexander would be getting out of hospital today, and Lafayette had texted him that morning about coming to his place for nine thirty so they could go and get Alex together.

John nodded to his father as he passed him in the hallway, stuffing his hair into a beanie and simultaneously trying to get his bus pass and lip-balm out of his pocket. He waved goodbye to Mary and Martha, making hot chocolate in the kitchen, as he left.

The cold hit him like a punch in the face. He'd always hated that his birthday was in the winter. John was a summer sort of person naturally, as a kid he'd always wished to have outdoor parties on his birthdays and now, he'd just rather it be warm and sunny.

John took the bus three stops to the main road nearest Lafayette's house. Hercules would already be there, they'd hang out for a little while before picking up Alex, then hopefully get lunch and spend a quiet, relaxing day before school on Monday.

Lafayette answered the door in a whirlwind of laughter and hugs. He held John tightly for a few seconds before exclaiming loudly about the cold and ushering him in.

"Putain, il fait froid! Entres, Maman a fait des crêpes pour nous!"

John grinned, stepped into the warmth of the Washington household and made his way to the living room.

"Hey," Hercules stood up to greet him and pulled him into a tight hug, "happy birthday bro, you're sixteen! Holy hell!"

John hugged him back, slapped him on the exceeding broad shoulder and stepped towards the lit fireplace, beginning to warm his hands.

As his back was turned, Lafayette had pulled something out from beneath a cushion on the sofa, holding it in his arms with a grin on his face. It was a present, about the shape of a school textbook, but by volume much bigger, wrapped in shiny green paper.

"Hey, big guy, wanna open your present?"

John laughed, took the item from Lafayette's arms and tested its weight curiously.

"C'est lourd, non?"

Lafayette shrugged, held up his hands in a 'guess you'll find out' sort of motion. John tore off the wrapping paper.

The first thing that fell into his hands was a card. He opened this first, a grin spreading across his face as he pulled it from the envelope.

It was evidently homemade, assembled by Lafayette and Hercules on one of their laptops. The card was a collage of photos of the four of them, snapchat streaks and instagram posts, vine quotes squeezed into every available white space. The thing was a mess. An amazingly chaotic mess.

There was the screenshot of one of Lafayette's stories, John with his head on Alex's lap. They were laughing at something on John's phone, wide grins spread across their faces. Another was one of those awfully ugly selfies John sent to Hercules as a joke, he was sat up in bed, making a double chin. The photo was captioned, 'love ya bro'.

"You guys are fucking idiots," he laughed, and simultaneously pulled them both into a hug.

The card had three long messages squeezed into the space, each in a different colour pen. One was from Lafayette, one from Hercules and the last from Alexander. The inside of the card was decorated, where there was room, with doodles of memes and inside jokes.

John looked down at the gift. A cardboard box sealed with a brightly coloured strip of tape. He looked up at Lafayette, grinned, and peeled off the tape. Inside the box was three things.

The first was a jacket. Made of black denim, he initially noticed nothing special about it. Then, John pulled it from the box. The back of the jacket was covered in patches, there had to be at least fifteen decorating the shoulders, all the way to the end of the material. They were homemade, some quoted inside jokes the four of them shared, some of them said things like 'queer power', one of them, evidently designed by Lafayette, read 'j'en ai marre des criminels en uniforme'. I am fed up with criminals in uniform. A sort of catchphrase he was known to throw out often, even having a t-shirt emblazoned with the words.

Hercules grinned at him, "I found this at the goodwill, then I went around our year. Turns out 'Liza's pretty good with a sewing machine too, so we worked on it together. A couple youtube tutorials and some late night brainstorming led to this."

John still couldn't take his eyes off the jacket. Hercules' aspirations as a designer had manifested themselves in incredible ways before, but never had he made something so personal, so thoughtful, so goddamn funny.

"Shit, Herc, Laf, this is fucking insane. How long did this take you?"

Hercules shrugged, "with some late-nighters, a few weeks?"

John laughed in disbelief, pulled a hand through his hair and turned his attention to the next item in the box. This one was obviously from Lafayette. It was a large black tub, the signature Lush design. Turning it over, he read the product description.

"Coconut mask for naturally curly hair?"

Lafayette grinned, "you've broken more combs than I can remember, I had to stop you struggling with that mess."

John ran a hand through his hair and, yes, his fingers met a tangle. Sheepishly, he shrugged and opened the tub. It did, admittedly, smell really good.

The last item was a book. John assumed this was from Alexander. The book was a worn copy of The Catcher In The Rye. John frowned, opened the frayed cover and read the note penned under the rubric on the title page.

I read this first in Spanish when I was fourteen. This is a copy I 'borrowed' from my school library last year. Thankfully, in English. You mentioned once that you'd never read it, which of course I felt morally obliged to correct. I re-read it this week and have written in some notes along the way, adding to things I hope you enjoy. I know this is a little shitty, and there's something better coming, but I think you'll like this in the meantime.

John flipped through the pages and smiled at the dozens of notes Alexander had crammed into the margins. There were one or two doodles, and beside one paragraph he'd penned, 'reminds me of you'.

"Pretty cool, right?"

John looked up at Hercules, who was grinning at the slightly awed expression on his friend's face.

"When did he do this?"

Lafayette shrugged, "he asked me to bring it to him earlier this week, Marian mentioned he'd stayed up late working on it."

John nodded, turned the book over in his hands and took in the scratched out stamp of a school library on the back cover. Alex must have scribbled out the name of his school once he'd decided he'd not be returning it. It was incredible to see something so personally attached to Alex like this. Each scribble in old, black ink was from when he was just fourteen. John could imagine him, a younger face and shorter hair, slipping this into his school bag and surreptitiously exiting the library.

"When are they discharging him today?"

Lafayette checked his watch, "at ten to midday. We have some hours, we can eat breakfast and watch some TV, whatever you like. Apres que, tu peux voir ton copain!"

John laughed and smacked his friend hard on the shoulder. Happiness was bubbling up inside him like carbon in soda, he felt warm, like he was surrounded by people who loved him, people who didn't care who John kissed or went out with, well, only so far as to play wingmen.

Martha and George greeted him in the kitchen, both dressed in that way politicians do on the weekends. It was always strange to see George in anything but suits and ties and Martha in professional blazers and blouses.

They'd gotten him cologne, it had obviously cost a fair amount but there was no evidence they'd spent excessively, or that they'd tried to impress him or show off. No, Martha and George weren't like that. They didn't count every penny, but they knew money wasn't something to be taken for granted or to be splashed around.

"For all those dates you teenagers go on," Martha smiled, handing John the box. He laughed and threw Lafayette a glance, who coughed under his breath and threw out, "avec son fils adoptif."

With your foster son.

George's mouth seemed to twitch into a small smile, but it was gone before John could even be sure he'd seen it. He was again left wondering whether George has picked up enough French from his son to understand simple phrases, like the one he'd just uttered.

"This is great, thanks so much. My dad got me one last year, but then Charles Lee came in wearing it and, needless to say, I haven't opened that box again since."

Lafayette and Hercules laughed, though Martha and George merely smiled humourlessly, threw each other furtive glances lasting only a split second.

John glanced at his friends in the doorway behind him and then back at the two adults in front of them. He pulled them both into a hug, coming only up to George's shoulder but standing at least a head taller than Martha.

They ate brunch on the couch, watching TV. John didn't have a second spare to think about his father or his siblings, whether or not he can get out of going to this gala.

At eleven thirty, Martha called to them from the kitchen. They should get on their shoes and coats, Alex's discharge was imminent.

They all piled into the car, Lafayette held a coat under one arm for his brother and couldn't seem to sit still, jiggling his leg and fiddling with a curl.

Alexander stood in the hospital room, a duffel bag over one shoulder, tapping his foot impatiently. It was exactly ten to twelve, Marian had gone down to see is his foster family had come to pick him up. He heard the vague ding of the elevator at the end of the hallway and the sound of voices in the distance. Alex wasn't sure whether or not he should go out into the corridor, but fuck it. He gathered himself, swept his hair from his eyes and stepped into the hallway.

Someone had landed on top of him before he could even be sure the people outside were his foster family. A fluffy expanse of hair nudged his forehead and he knew instantly that it was Lafayette.

"Salut!"

The teenager laughed into the hug, "tu m'as manqué."

Alex stepped back, looked left to right, caught black curls and freckles before all he knew was warm chest and clean-smelling hoodie. John pulled him into a tight hug, lifted him about an inch of his feet, his face pressed into his hair. Underneath his hands, he could feel bone, but he was looking better than ever, his face a little pinker and his hair shinier.

"Happy birthday," Alex laughed, his hands held John's waist tightly, he momentarily forgot to maintain a platonic facade in front of George and Martha, it took every ounce of his willpower to prevent him from kissing John.

"Thanks for the book, it looks really cool."

Alex made a face, "it's a bit shit. I'm in the process of finding something better."

John shook his head earnestly, "seriously, it's amazing. I'm just glad I get to see you."

Alex smiles, his eyes scrunched up and his slight dimples appeared. God, John would never stop adoring that smile.

Behind them, Martha coughed.

"We were thinking about getting some celebratory lunch? You kids ready to leave?"

Alex laughed in a self-depreciative sort of way and pulled Martha into a hug. He breathed in perfume and the smell of the Washington's house. It felt sort of like home. He gave George one next. It lasted a few seconds less, a little awkward after the argument they still hadn't entirely resolved, but warm nonetheless.

He pulled Hercules into a hug last, but held on longer than either George or Martha.

"I missed you, Bro," Hercules laughed, slapped his back. Alex smiled, patted his shoulder and stepped back, looking around at the people around him for a moment with bright eyes.

They went to a nice café in the town centre. It wasn't exceptionally busy but there were enough people there that it didn't feel strange or quiet. George only had to leave the table once to make a call and Alex actually managed to eat more than half of his meal.

"So, your life of crime started at fourteen?" John joked, tilting his head at Alex and biting into his sandwich. Alex laughed, furrowed his eyebrows.

"Huh?"

"You 'borrowed' that book from your library."

Alex raised an eyebrow, "yes, an illustrious career of thievery. The FBI are still hunting me down."

John nodded seriously, "we're fucking Bonnie and Clyde."

Alex shook his head, his lips were fighting a smile, "nah. I'm Butch and you're Fabienne."

John clicked his tongue and sighed theatrically, "I don't know what you're referencing but I'll go with it."

Alex's jaw dropped, "you've never seen Pulp Fiction?

John shrugged sheepishly, "my father always said it wasn't Christian."

Alex laughed, "it's sure as hell not."

He turned back to his food and Lafayette then, said something in French too quick and clipped for John to catch completely and launched into a conversation separate from the one he'd just been having with John.

Then, his phone buzzed. John glanced down at it and read the text. Then he read it again. Then he refreshed the feed, wondering if he was hallucinating, then he read it again.

Francis (just now): Happy birthday. I'm in town again this week. Maybe we'll run into each other.

John set his phone down on the table, leant against his hand and closed his eyes. Francis. God, they'd not spoken in a year, who knew how he'd changed.

John (just now): How come you're in town?

He waited, drumming his fingers against the table. Everyone at the table was far too preoccupied with talking and laughing to notice his sudden silence.

Francis (just now): Not happy to hear from me? My parents have shit to sort out with an old client. Lucky for me, I have the chance of running into you.

John's heart skipped a beat. Francis in town, Francis flirting, Francis wanting to spend time together.

John (just now): Are you suggesting we hang out?

Francis (just now): Sure.

They had so much they needed to resolve, to get off their chests. John's first real heartbreak had been Francis, six months ago he'd have left this restaurant, sprinted to wherever Francis was staying and done practically anything for just one kiss.

John (just now): I think we should clear the air.

Francis (just now): I think you've probably gotten even cuter since I last saw you.

That was forward, even for him. Francis had always been the sort to take the lead, John had fucking idolised him, Francis had been perfectly aware of that, perfectly aware of how he could use that to his advantage.

John (just now): And less naive.

Francis (just now): Coffee, four o'clock tomorrow, old place?

John (just now): Okay.

So those were the events that led to him sitting in the coffee shop he and Francis used to frequent, dressed a little nicer than he might usually, jittering with nerves. He needed to clear the air with Francis. He needed to get some things off his chest. Anyway, it was only polite he see him, if he was in town.

Then, he sees the familiar silhouette of Francis in the doorway.

He'd grown. He'd always been tall, but now, a year older than John and standing a few inches taller than him, he seemed so different. Francis was blond and fair, light eyelashes and golden streaked eyebrows that caught silver in the sunlight. He had a long face, with light grey eyes and a straight, slightly angled nose. He was conventionally attractive, like a Greek statue. Sure, in certain lights his face sometimes took on a sharp, aquiline sort of look but he was exactly the thing John was fated to fall for in his fourteenth summer.

"Jacky!"

He stood up, a smile stretched across his face as he laid eyes upon the teenager he hadn't seen in close to a year. Francis pulled him into a tight hug. He held it for a few seconds, smiling into John's hair.

Then, Francis took a step back and ran his eyes up and down John, he smiled as he reached his face and reached out a hand to pinch his cheek.

"I always loved those freckles of yours."

John blushed and sat down opposite his friend, drumming his fingers restlessly against the varnished wood table of the café.

"So you're sixteen now, kiddo."

Francis flashed him a smile and leant forward on his arms. Up close, his eyes were almost copper.

"Yup. Yesterday was the big day. Happy sweet sixteenth to me."

Francis laughed and pulled something out from beneath the table, a plastic bag.

"Which is why I got you something."

John took the bag is stunned silence and opened it, peering down into its contents. A scarf, striped mustard yellow and pale pink. It was soft and expensive looking, the kind of thing Lafayette would go wild for.

"Francis, this is-"

"Stylish, the best gift you've received so far?"

John cleared his throat, "too much. There was no need to-"

Francis cut him off, "of course there was! Jack, you were always so stubborn. Chill, don't be so high strung."

John lowered his eyes and Francis laid a hand over his relentlessly fiddling one.

"John, calm down, everything's okay."

John remembered when they dated. He'd been a Freshman, Francis had been a Sophomore. They'd started hanging out in the same circle, doing to the park and drinking cheap beer, saying dumb, rebellious things. Francis had kissed him first, though John supposed that his crush had been painfully obvious. Francis seemed to enjoy having an adorable little Freshman following him everywhere, offering to carry his books, being enthusiastic and eager to please.

But when it came to John's advances, Francis was always lukewarm. He seemed often uninterested, when they did eventually sleep together, it had been unsatisfying for John, even painful; at least the first time. Francis had always treated it like a chore. Like John was the unnatural, dirty one and he was merely grudgingly obliging. It had always been sterile and impersonal when John had wanted intimacy and love.

"So, you're here for a week?"

Francis shrugged, "that's what they said, but Dad told us we'd be in Syracuse for a month and we stayed ten, who knows how long I'm sticking around."

John nodded, chased the straw of his lemonade with hims mouth. Francis watched him fondly, "you've gotten taller, haven't you?"

John nodded a little awkwardly, "I'm five eleven."

"You were so cute in Freshman year, yet to hit that growth spurt, all those freckles," he grins, "everywhere."

John laughed, a little uncomfortable, and sipped at his sizzling lemonade, watching bubbles shoot to the surface and coat his slice of lemon like limpets on a rock.

"I wanted to clear the air, Francis."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was fucked up for a while after you moved. I know we broke up before that, but it still stung. I've missed you, God, I would have appreciated a call," he looked into his drink, then decided against being shy, being apologetic. John brought his chin up, gazed definitely at Francis, who shrugged.

"Quick and easy, that's always been my policy, Jacky."

John didn't think things were easier that way. Francis could have ended it quickly, but he could have at least been nice about it. John didn't ever expect flowers or matching bracelets, but a goodbye would have been appreciated. He'd have liked to have known the last time he kissed Francis was going to be the last.

"I know, but you just drifted off one day. Did you not think about how that might make me feel?"

Francis squeezes his hand, "okay, okay. I was wrong to do that to you. I just had to figure myself out. It wasn't personal. It was never personal."

John sighed, "sure felt that way at the time."

Francis has a pained look in his eye now.

"That's why I texted you, because I left this wrong and I wanted to see you again."

John looked into Francis' eyes and couldn't help melt a little. He'd always been putty in his hands, for Francis, reducing him to jelly had never been very difficult.

"John, you're so special to me. I don't know what I thought I was doing."

John smiled, tried to not appear as flattered as he actually was, "I missed you too."

Francis flashed him that movie star grin; he'd always been so charming.

"Shall we blow this joint?"

They took their drinks with them and wandered the nearby park, it was fresh and cold but the sky was a pale blue and the silhouettes of birds flew across the sky like fish streaking across a river's surface. John hadn't brought up Alex yet, he hadn't quite found the opportunity... Or the motivation. He didn't want to think about Alex right now.

"You're doing well at school, I bet. You've always been clever, Jack."

John tilted his head, kicks up some dirt and glanced up at his friend, "not as though you aren't. T'es bilingue, comme moi."

Francis shrugged, "yeah, I was just saying that you're smart, dummy."

John laughed and Francis threw an arm around his shoulder, ruffled his hair.

"Do you wanna go to our old spot, under the trees?"

They sat in the shade of an oak tree in the park, John's head wasn't in his lap like old times, but it rested beside Francis', dangerously close. If they both rolled over, their lips would meet.

"So, any excitement in your life? Any boys, girls?"

"You know I'm gay, Francis," John laughed, chewing on some grass.

"Yeah, fine, any boys then?"

John nodded, "yeah. Hate to shoot you down, but there's a guy called Alex."

Francis raised an eyebrow, "so you have a boyfriend now?"

John hesitated. They'd never used that word before. Sheer mutual discomfort? Mutual fear? Maybe.

"I-I don't know if I'd say boyfriend..."

Francis lay back down, his hip brushed John's.

"Hmm. What's he like? My age or yours?"

John stretched, avoiding answering the question. He didn't know if he wanted to be talking about Alex right now.

"He's my age. Laf's parents took in another foster kid, he's that kid."

Francis hummed in interest, "ooh, a bad boy. I never took you for having a type, Jacky."

John scrunched his nose, "I dunno if I'd say bad boy."

"He cute?"

John smiled to himself, thought of dark hair and cheeky smiles.

"Yeah. He is."

"You fucked yet? Knowing you-"

"Woah, getting personal there, Christ, Francis."

Francis rolled onto his side so he faced John, smiling devilishly.

"Come on, don't need to be such a prude. It's not like we never, well... Fine. I'll leave it."

"Yeah, please do."

Francis laughed, "so you're not taken?"

John frowned, keeps his eyes glued to the sky.

"I-I'm not exactly- I'm not single."

Francis laughed, "it's complicated is good enough for me."

John bit his lip, he thinks it's more than 'it's complicated'.

"Yeah, I don't know. I like him a lot, so..."

Francis shrugged.

"You never hesitated to get with me. If you liked him, you'd be with him by now."

John frowned. Alexander's situation was complicated. There'd not been much time recently for solidifying a relationship, between arguments and a suicide attempt.

"Look, you're here for a week, Francis. Hanging out is fun, but soon you'll be back in Syracuse or wherever you live now. What exactly are you hoping for?"

Francis pouted, "one last kiss?"

John laughed, "you've gotta be kidding."

The older teenager shrugged and sat up, shaking a leaf from his golden hair.

"Sure. Kidding. Listen, I'm about to go and see Louis, so you can either come or we can meet up later."

John wrinkled his nose, "Louis such a junkie these days. Be careful what you eat around him, if he's made it, it'll have weed or magic mushrooms in it."

Francis let out a bark of laughter, "thanks for the tip. A bit surprised to hear it from you, though. Didn't you smoke weed at that spring break party last year?"

John pushed some hair out of his face and raised a shoulder indifferently, "I don't recall any such thing."

"It's a memory-loss drug, Jacky," Francis began to walk away, grinning, "who knows what you did on that stuff."

John watched him sidle off across the park, his jacket under his arm, bag swinging off his shoulder. He'd always been so effortlessly graceful, like an actor. John didn't think he ever seen that facade slip.