Oops I started writing fanfiction again. Here's chapter 5ish from the "LYNITS" universe from John's POV.

"Just, what is it about me? Why am I still the kid I was in high school?" I took a swig out of the bottle, having abandoned my wine glass when the last bottle was finished.

Laf looked down at me as I lay helplessly drunk in his lap, "you are not still him, Jackie. You are amazing! You have this wonderful job, you don't live in the south. Things are good."

"Then why am I still just the dirty little secret? Why have I never been with someone who can tell me they love me before the stars come out?"

He twisted my hair around his fingers absently, deftly avoiding all the snags and whispered, "I don't know."

"It's just so easy for you! Why does it feel so hard for me?"

"I don't know. Really."

I thought about Hamilton. Alexander. It was such a pretty name. He was pretty, gaunt, haunted eyes from a Tim Burton movie, but soft enough to be cuddly, if he'd ever let me. He wasn't all weird and too-skinny, like me. He had short, little wispy hair at the nape of his neck that never quite made it into his messy buns. His shoulders seemed slanted in a permanent sag from how hard he worked, it was sexy how hard he worked.

"I don't get it, Laf. I'm good right? I know I'm never gonna win any beauty contests, stupid freckles and frizzy hair and awkward, weird long arms; but, like, I'm nice, I'm sweet, I'm a good cook. I just want someone to be sweet to. I want to leave random notes to be found throughout the day. I want to have someone waking up and pull me into their arms in the morning, not just wait for me to leave. I want someone to call me just because they want me to know they were thinking of me, not because their first choice for a booty call was busy. Is that too much?"

He pushed his glasses up from the tip of his nose thinking on what I'd just said. His phone buzzed and I knew it was Hercules and felt my heart seize. That. That was all I wanted.

"Of course you are good, chou. You are beautiful, you are funny and smart and talented and kind. Do you remember when we were kids in your car and you were going very much too fast and you saw a turtle in the middle of the road and slammed on the brakes and got out to help it cross?"

"Anyone would have done that." Anyone except Ale- Hamilton. He probably would have just crushed the turtle like he's crushing my stupid heart.

"No they wouldn't, but you did."

"So? I really thought he liked me. I mean, if you'd have been there that night, wait no, that's weird, but you know what I mean. It felt… different. Everything felt… sparkly. I don't know. But then he just wanted me to leave, but, it felt, I guess it felt like he liked me."

His phone buzzed again.

"You can answer that."

"Nonsense. I am busy. He can wait."

"But won't he get mad at you?"

"Why would he get mad?"

"He's texted you twice and you haven't answered."

"So what? He knows I'm busy. I'll call him before I go to sleep. I'm with you right now. My best friend needs me. He'll understand."

I couldn't imagine a relationship where you could just get back with someone later. Where they wouldn't have moved on and left you in the dust when later came. I probably never would.

"Thanks, Laf."

He smiled and touched the tip of my nose, "now get up."

I sat up slowly, feeling the bottles of wine we'd shared angling my perspective.

"What's happening?"

"We're starting a mission."

"No. I'm too sad and tired to start a mission."

He grabbed my hand, "precisely, come."

I pouted but was too drunk to argue and let him drag me to my bedroom.

He flung the door open with purpose and retracted like a vampire seeing the sun, "how do you live like this?" he nudged my shoes out of the walkway with his toe.

"Depression?" I forced a grin.

"Jackie, is it that bad again?" He stacked up the bowls and plates I'd left to die scattered on my nightstand.

I scrunched up my lips, feeling guilty, "I don't know."

"We'll figure that out later. Now, let's begin."

I flopped on the end of my bed and clutched my pillow to my chest, tucking my legs up in front of me. Lafayette was rummaging in my closet, making little noises to himself as he slid hangers down the rod.

He pulled out a pair of tapered corduroy pants and inspected them in the light.

"These are good. You look good in russet."

Laf tapped his lip, deep in thought and began digging in my closet again pulling out a thin cream coloured sweater. He went in one more time and pulled out a dark wash denim jacket that hadn't seen much love since I was in college, but shook his head, exchanging it for a blazer.

"This." He brandished the clothing at me.

"What's that supposed to do?"

"Make you look cute. Make him pay attention."

"While I appreciate you playing Princess Diaries with me, it's no use, he doesn't even look at me, so it doesn't matter what I wear. And besides, I've got my own cubicle now, so I don't even see him that much."

"You're allowed to stop by to chat, no? Fill up your water bottle, go to the restroom."

"I guess. I've tried to come by and make small talk, but he won't even stop typing so it doesn't matter."

"Then don't make small talk. Ask him out."

My stomach filled with gravel, "what?"

"Ask. Him. Out."

"I can't do that."

"Try." Laf set the clothes down over my desk chair, kissed the top of my head and left the room, taking my shameful stack of dishes with him.

I turned off my light and curled up in bed pulling my hood up over my head and clutched my pillow tightly, pretending it was him. It didn't matter if I cried now, it was dark, I was alone, I let the tears fall. I heard Laf giggling quietly on his phone in the other room and cried harder, trying not to fall apart entirely.

In the morning I got up after turning off my alarm and checking Tumblr and Instagram and made myself get dressed in the outfit Lafayette had picked out for me, though, I'm sure he'd have said curated and inspected myself. I did look pretty cute.

In the bathroom I forced myself to look in the mirror while I brushed my teeth. My freckles are cute, my freckles are cute, my freckles are cute. I whispered inside my head as I washed my face, wondering how many more years I'd spend repeating the mantra to myself before I believed it. I did my best to tame my hair and went out to the common area of the house where Laf was up and singing.

"Good morning! Go be amazing. I made you tea." He thrust my thermos at me.

I smiled down at my cup and then at him. His laptop and notebook were out on the dining table and I'd wondered how long he'd been up working on his blog, early enough for the post to publish at a decent time in France I guessed.

"I'll try. Love you."

He winked at me, "love you, too, Jackie. You're incredible! Go be incredible."

I locked our door behind me and got myself to the subway station, feeling a little more confident in the route I took to work. Hamilton or no Hamilton it was pretty cool that I got a real job, a big kid job with benefits, in New York, making art! I smiled to myself and swayed to the music blasting in my big headphones.

The sky was grey and overcast today, if I could smell anything other than city, I knew it would smell like rain. No one here knew what that meant, but the world smells different right before it rains.

When I got to work I sat at my very own chair in my very own workspace and booted up my computer looking at the things I'd decorated my cube with. The little doodles of my friends and pictures of my sisters and baby niece made me happy. There was more to life than Hamilton. Yeah, screw that guy. Wanna screw that guy. I subdued a giggle, not wanting to be the guy in the office who giggles at himself.

I had new emails. People who wanted to talk work stuff with me. That would never get old. John Laurens, big kid job extraordinaire, at your service! I had to go shoot for a story later in the week, too bad it wasn't with Hamilton. Hamilton. I figured he'd already been here for a while but tried to play it cool, making a deal with myself to work really hard until 10:30 and then I could go see him. There was a concert happening at a bar me and Laf liked tonight, that seemed like the perfect thing to invite him to.

10:30 finally came, but I made myself wait two more minutes, because going to talk to him right at 10:30 felt suspicious. I walked through the labyrinth of cubicles and found his, good morning, gorgeous.

"Hey, Hamilton." I leaned against the corner of his cube.

"Hmmn," he grunted, probably just to himself.

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"How's your morning? See you're out of coffee, uhoh, want to walk to the break room with me?"

My palms were gross and sweaty and cold.

"Mmmh"

Cool.

"So, hey, there's this concert happening tonight, would you like to come with me?"

Nothing. I looked down at my shoes and sucked my lip into my mouth, swallowing rejection. One more, try just one more time. Don't be creepy. No means no.

"So do you want to go?"

He whipped his head around as if he'd just broken loose from a fog, "go where?" He sounded just a little bit intrigued. That was a promising start, right?

"To that concert with me?"

"Oh, can't. I have plans." He checked his phone.

He was probably talking to some cute boy he met and they had plans tonight. I wondered if he was mean to that guy, too.

"You do?"

"Yes, is that so surprising?"

Not at all, of course you have cute boy plans, "No, I didn't mean it like that… you just made it seem like…" I left his cubicle. That was it, no more. Unwanted. I got back to my cube and texted Laf.

Nope.

He texted me back.

Merde. You should still go out. Have fun.

Maybe.

I tried to just focus on work. By the afternoon I decided I did still want to go out. I wanted to be dumb and reckless and meet someone knew and feel good enough for a few hours. The rest of the work day went by in a sludge. I just wanted to leave and go out and not think about him for a few hours. I let Laf know that I was going out and not to wait up. With any luck I'd end tonight in someone else's bed.

I went home and changed out of the clothes that hadn't helped, letting them drop to the floor. Even though it felt silly putting in effort, I tried to look cute, and then I left heading up north on the train.

The concert wasn't that good, but I nursed a few beers, scoping out the audience for anyone worth my while. I tried to get a blonde guy's attention and after a few songs he came over to talk to me, but as soon as he opened his mouth I wished he hadn't. A hookup wasn't what I wanted. It was silly to come out tonight, I didn't want some meaningless fling, I was ready for something real, so I left.

It was pouring rain out, because that was just my luck. Of course it was torrential. I got my bearings feeling the ankles of my jeans getting soaked, my chucks were already soggy. I glanced up at the street signs and realized how close to his apartment I was. Screw it. I walked the handful of blocks, the rain stinging my eyes. Maybe his date hadn't gone that well, maybe he'd curse me out, but I kept walking.

Ducking under an awning I called him and waited for it to go to voicemail, but to my shock, he answered.

"Hello," he cleared his throat, a drunken lilt in his voice.

I hadn't expected him to pick up and hadn't figured out what I was gonna say, "Hey, um, so, I'm out, and uh, it's terrible out here. I'm pretty sure you hate me, but is there anyway it would be okay for me to post up at yours until this shit blows over? I know you said you had plans, but I figured it was late enough and maybe you were home by now? You're the only person I know who lives up here."

"Fine."

"Thank you."

I steeled myself as I climbed the stairs to his apartment, not expecting any of this to turn out this way, and knocked.

He opened the door and eyed me soaking wet, "how close were you?"

"Um… downstairs."

He shook his head and sat down, stumbling slightly

"You're like, super drunk." I felt my lips twitch into a smile.

"Yes I am."

I held back a shiver, standing sopping wet in his living room, "you must have had fun tonight. What were your plans?"

He picked up a half emptied bottle of rum and took a sip, "this."

"Just drinking alone in your apartment?" Wow he really was avoiding me. Some plans.

"Yes."

"Seriously?"

He looked down into the bottle, "I don't fuck with storms."

As if commanded by his voice thunder crashed, rattling the windows. He clamped his eyes shut and gripped his knee until the colour drained from his knuckle. He looked helpless and I wanted to do anything to fix it. I'd never seem him like this, hollow and defenseless. I stroked his cheek how I wished someone would when I was upset and he jumped at my touch.

"Hey, you're okay."

He pulled away from me, "I'm fine."

I watched him take a deep breath, his whole body vibrating.

"You really don't like storms, do you?"

"I've already stated that, but sincerest thanks for you astute observation." He drank again.

His words stung, but reminded me of a feral cat hissing when it's offered a bowl of food.

"Always such an asshole. How?"

I leaned in closer and watched as he scrambled away from me, fear darkening his eyes.

"If you're going to do this go change." His voice had an edge to it, but his eyes were still covered in a sheen of terror.

"What?"

"If you're going to be here, all calming and soothing and shit, you have to be dry to do it. Go in my bedroom and get dry clothes and for fucks sake, tie back your hair."

He snapped, maybe more like a feral dog than a cat, but I'd made plenty of them like me as a kid, too. I just stared, trying to understand him.

"Or, leave, fuck, but do one or the otheer, don't just keep dripping on me and my shit."

Weird, this is weird, not like he's gonna kill me and chop me up, but still weird. I went into his bedroom and opened different drawers to try and find something to wear, settling on sweatpants and a hoodie from his university that looked like it had seen better days. I twisted my drippy hair into a pile on top of my head.

When I came back to the living room he was curled in a tight ball but stared at me, almost making me feel self conscious.

"Do you want to talk about what all this is?"

"What more is there than the fact that I don't fuck with storms?" I was just impressed that he was finally speaking in full sentences to me.

"Okay, but like, people don't just 'not like storms' and get like this. Something happened to you."

He pawed away at his eyes and they filled with tears, "so? Lots of this happen to lots of people."

"I know, but I'm not with those people, wearing their clothes in their apartment."

He stared at the floor, "yes. Something happened."

I sat next to him and folded my hands in my lap, "what happened?"

"Hurricane." It looked like the word hurt him.

"A hurricane. Were you in one? Katrina?"

He shook his head, looking small.

"Alexander, what happened to you?"

"Hurricane… Georges… in 1998, I was seven."

"Georges? I don't really remember that one."

"It wasn't too bad here in the states, but back home…" he squeezed his eyes shut.

"What happened back home? You mean Puerto Rico? That's how you got here, isn't it?"

He nodded slowly, "where we lived… everything got leveled, we went without power for so long. My mother," he took another drink and lit a cigarette, "died."

My eyes felt hot and prickly, "I'm so sorry."

"Shit happens," he clawed away his tears.

"The storm waas that bad there?"

"It was the lack of power that got her. She was on dialysis, we couldn't keep it going, so she died. I was so little, I didn't know what to do or where to go, I just tried to clean up the house and wait for her to wake up. I don't think I really knew she was gone. I got really sick, we didn't have enough clean water, and… it was bad."

"How did you get here?"

His lips twitched in a smile his eyes would never know, "you just want to dust off all the skeletons in my closet don't you?"

"You don't have to." I felt guilty prying.

"My mother was all I had. Father ran off when I was a baby. Only family was a cousin in Brooklyn, social workers found him and boom, welcome to America."

"That's good! Do you guys stay in touch?"

"No, ten years ago he killed himself, right before my senior year in high school."

"Fuck." I couldn't believe how much he'd been through. How he was started to make more sense.

"Yup. So here I am, drinking my way through storms because I smell fire and human decomposition every time the rain hits hot pavement."

Rain has a smell. He might have been the only other person in this giant city that knew that."

"Jesus Christ, Alexander."

"I told you." He shrugged, tipping the bottle to his lips.

I hugged him, that story, everything he'd been through, broke my heart. He stiffened and it all made sense. How many people he'd lost. It had never been me. I could work with that.

"This explains so much about you."

"Oh yeah, all the baggage in the world. I told you not to fuck around and try to be around me."

I held him even tighter, "it's not working."

Thunder crashed and he shivered against me.

"Hey, shh, let's get your mind off of this, drown it out. Do you have netflix?" I gestured to the dusty tv in the corner.

"No."

"Where's your computer?"

He pointed to a table in the corner covered with open journals and loose leaf. I grabbed the laptop and brought it to him to unlock.

"You can use mine." And by 'mine' I meant Laf's. I typed in the login information.

"Jetez vos pantalons at gmail is your email." He looked at me quizzically.

"No, it's my friend's. You speak French?"

"I do." He let out a little chuckle.

"What's so funny?"

"The email address, it pretty much means 'take off your pants,'"

"Oh my God, he's such a pervert."

"What do you want to watch?" he asked as I scrolled.

"I dunno, what about you?" I wanted him to pick something to get his mind off of the weather.

"I don't care. I don't really watch a lot of TV."

I clicked on the Office, "you've watched this though, right?"

"Nope," he shook his head and the cheery intro started.

I wrapped my arms around him and watched the pilot for what had to have been the fifteenth time. It was possible that this just might have been the start of something good.

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