Alexander Hamilton finds himself mesmerized by the soulmark and the name of his enemy. He's always found himself amazed by it. On days where he was sick and starving, where he wasn't sure if he'd survive, he would trace the letters, allowing his finger to lightly run over the slight bumps. He admires the loops and how the name is written in cursive. The name 'Thomas Jefferson' is elegantly written. Attached to the end of the n is an image of a quill. One that seems to be a solid white colour, with a simple outline and the rest being negative space. There is some gorgeous shading done, and he feels as though he could reach and grab the quill. Attached to the quill is a metal piece with gorgeous carvings. The tip of the quill is covered with ink, and written on his upper arm is the words, "Who are you?" written in cursive. The quill seemed to be in the process of placing the dot for the question mark.
As a child, he thought them to be random lines and nothing else, but now, he thought as he stares at them, he found himself realizing what it is; a scene depicting waves and mountains and trees. It's a small one, but it's intricate. More than once he's lost his train of thought when staring at the marks. Many people would smile seeing them and comment on how his soulmate must be something special, as most people only have the name of their soulmate and nothing else.
Then, they would notice the name on his right wrist. Beautiful, elegant cursive engraved into his skin. The last letter, the n, was written messily. Underneath of it is an ink bottle that that seems to be tipped over. A pool of what looks like ink is on his upper arm. Seven more words sit there. Whatever goes into the ink is negative space. 'I hope I never see you again' is written in cursive. On the bottle, the same scene depicted on the quill sits there. It surrounds the word 'ink' which is written in cursive.
'Thomas Jefferson.' His worst enemy and his soulmate, his lover and the man he is supposed to hate. A relationship doomed to fail.
It hurt to know that his soulmate is someone who will hate him, someone he will hate. It hurt more than when the hurricane hit. Hurt more than when his mother died, more than when his father left. More than when his cousin committed suicide. It hurt even more than when he was separated from his brother, James. He's suffered so much, but the pain that hurt the most was the one he has yet to experience, one that he is expecting but hasn't yet felt.
And yet, he still held hope. Thomas Jefferson is also his soulmate, and nothing could deter Alexander from trying to make it work between the two of them. Come hell or high waters, he would try his best. If he saw the situation had no hope, he'd give up.
He moved to America at a young age, after his mother died to live with his cousin. Part way through the first year, his cousin committed suicide in the room next to Alexander's. He was the one who discovered the body of his cousin, hanging from the ceiling. Limp. It horrified him. James had heard him yell and came running in. James comforted Alex the best he could before calling the police.
After, they were placed into the foster care system. James was adopted very quickly, but not Alex. They exchanged emails and promised to talk when they could. Alex was moved from home to home. One the foster parent died and the other was unable to keep Alexander with him. One, his foster father went into debt and they were, financially, unable to keep Alex. He was abused and neglected in two homes, his second one and his last one.
And thus, here he is, sitting in the front seat of his social worker's, Marie's, car. "Alexander, I know there were issues but I'm positive that you'll be staying here. Martha and George are rather nice. They have a son who's your age. I'm sure that you'll be fine." She says, trying to encourage the fifteen-year old. He just sighs softly, finger on his left wrist as he carefully traces the name.
"What if he isn't here? What if I just moved further away from him? What if I never meet him?" He tries concern clear in his voice. He finds himself rather close to Marie, seeing as she has helped him out of and through many situations. He trusts her.
"You'll meet him one day, Alexander. He's your soulmate, it may not be this year or even next year, but one day you'll meet him. I promise you." Marie says softly, turning a corner.
Alexander doesn't respond this time, staring at the house. So his foster parents were rich then? He could tell that the neighbourhood was rather nice, and the houses are large. They would have cost a fair bit of money. A few moments later, Marie parks in front of a large, blue house with a white picket fence. The garden many rather nice flowers, he thinks as he steps out of the car.
Marie smiles gently as she grabs his suitcase for him, handing it over. She starts to walk to the door, Alexander following close behind her. She stops in front of the door and knocks.
It only took a minute for the door to be opened, but to Alexander, time had frozen. A million thoughts ran through his head, a million worries. He felt his heart slam into his chest, and he found that his breathing had stopped. Fear grips him, and his mind goes into overdrive, thinking of every possible scenario that could end with him moving homes. His grip tightens on the bag, his knuckles turning white.
In front of the door stands a nicely dressed woman. She's a bit shorter. Her dark brown hair is pulled back and put into a rather neat bun. Her brown eyes held a soft look, and Alex can't help but relax when he looks into them. Whoever she is, he felt as though he could trust her, that she wouldn't harm him.
"Hello Martha." Marie says a smile on her face.
"Hello Marie, it's great to see you," those soothing eyes turn on Alexander now. "And you must be Alexander," she holds her hand out, "it's a nice to meet you."
A bit timidly, Alexander shakes her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well, Martha." He says. Martha steps aside now, allowing Marie and Alexander to come in after her.
The first thing Alexander finds himself doing is looking around quickly, taking in his surroundings and any possible exits. He takes it all in; the front door, the windows, anything within his view. As nice as Martha seem, he's learned that appearances can be deceiving.
"If you wouldn't mind, can you take your shoes off for me? We don't wear them in the house." She says politely, and the two oblige.
Alex sits them aside and follows her to the living room. On the couch is a boy that seems his age. His eyes are brown, much like Martha's. His hair is held back by a ponytail. He's wearing a pair of jeans and a plain t-shirt. Next to the boy a man stands up and walks over. Compared to the five feet one inch Alexander Hamilton, the other is massive, standing at about six feet. He is rather large, and could definitely do damage if he wanted to.
Alexander, partially involuntarily, takes a step back, his worries and concerns back. No one bothered commenting on it. Unlike Martha, he didn't hold his hand out for Alex. "Hello Alexander, I'm George."
Fear grips him for but a moment as the man stands in front of him. George seems nice, but he still feels a bit terrified when he realizes how hard it would be to fight against the other, how hard it would be to push him off and away.
"It's nice to meet you," he says, his voice a bit small.
The other boy saunters over with a smile. He's rather tall compared to Alex, standing at five feet eight inches. He grins. "Hello," Alex was slightly surprised to hear the rather strong French accent that the other has, "I'm Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette. You can just call me Lafayette or Laf. It's not as long, and I prefer it." He says, smiling. "Maman et papa calls me Gilbert." He says, holding his left hand out. Displayed on his wrist is the name Hercules Mulligan. It's written a bit messily, but there it is. Nothing is attached to the letters, unlike Alexander's.
While this boy worried Alexander, he takes comfort in how he seemed fairly scrawny, and Alexander tries to tell himself that there would be some sort of fighting chance if the other attempted to hurt him. He would be able to do something, anything against him.
He holds his own left hand out and shakes Lafayette's hand, smiling slightly. "I'm Alexander Hamilton. You can call me Alex." He says, feeling at ease.
Lafayette nods and let go of Alex's hand, lowering his own. "Il est très petit." Lafayette mutters, and Alex huffs softly.
"Je ne suis pas petit, tu es grande." He snaps back, and the other seems stunned into silence. His eyes light up and he grins.
"Vous parlez Français?" He exclaims excitedly, grinning.
"Oui, j'ai parlez Français." Alex says, and George sighs softly.
"Martha, if we don't learn French soon these two will be able to hide things from us more easily." George mutters, and Martha can't help but laugh softly.
Marie watches the three before speaking, "Alex has my number. I'm sorry to rush out, but I'm a bit behind. I'll be back on Saturday to check on him." She focuses on Alex now. "Be good, I'll see you Saturday." She says softly, and Alex nods a bit nervously.
"See you on Saturday." Just like that, Marie was gone for now.
"Gilbert, can you show Alex around and take him to his room?" She asks, and Lafayette nods eagerly and happily.
"Oui maman," Lafayette chirps out as he grabs Alex's bag and starts to walk away. Alex quickly follows and listens to Lafayette excitedly chatter about how he was excited to have another person who speaks French in the house, and how he knew Alex would get along with a man named John or something. Alex starts to memorize where everything is, quiet.
"Oh, and this is your room." Lafayette says with a smile, opening the door. Inside is a queen sized bed with blue seats. A large window with a window seat is there as well, and a desk with a light is in the corner of the room. On top of it, there's paper and a small container containing pens, mechanical pencils and highlighters. Three erasers sit next to the container.
"Je sais, je sais. It's empty and boring, but maman and papa didn't know what you'd like so we'll decorate it later."
Alex opens the closet and looks at the empty hangers and dresser inside. He opens his suitcase and starts to unpack the few things he would want out, knowing he may not be staying for too long. "It's perfect." He says simply. He places an old laptop on the desk and plugs it in, setting his mouse down next to it.
Lafayette blinks in slight surprise. "It is?" He asks, watching Alexander unpack.
"I don't need much, as long as I have a space to do homework and write, I'm fine." He promises, looking at Lafayette. "While books would be nice, I know there's a library so I'll just borrow from there." He goes back to the desk and opens a drawer, placing some books inside of it.
Lafayette is a bit surprised but nods, watching as Alexander places his now empty suitcase inside of the closet. Then, he sits on the bed and looks at Lafayette. "Can we, uhm, talk...?"
Lafayette goes over to him and takes a seat, and smiles. "What about?"
"Are you adopted?" The question was rather blunt, but Lafayette was expecting it. He nods.
"Oui, I am. I was born in France, my parents died and I didn't have any family who would take me in. George and Martha had adopted me."
"Are they... are they nice?" Alex asks hesitantly. Lafayette can't help but smile hearing this question.
"They are. They aren't too strict, and while they have high standards, they don't push too hard. They want us to do our best. If you have a problem, they try to listen to you and try to help you." Lafayette says honestly.
Alex nods and glances down at Lafayette's wrist, hesitant to ask his next question.
"I'm not going to be mad if you ask. Where I grew up, it was rather normal for people to share it. I just ask that you show me yours." Lafayette says softly, watching him.
"... Have you found your soulmate?"
Lafayette can't help but smile. He nods. "Oui, he's lived here his whole life and we go to the same school. We were in the same class. When I heard them call his name during attendance, I was ecstatic." He can't help but chuckle. "My name covers his fore arm because it's so long. I remember him trying to say my full name when I approached him." He smiles fondly at the memory. "Have you met yours?"
Alex shakes his head no, moving to the next question. "Have you met your enemy?"
Lafayette huffs softly and glances down at his right wrist, the name covered by an elastic band. "Oui, sadly. It's a boy named Charles Lee; he's also in my school. It was around the same time I met Hercules. He keeps calling me Marie." He grumbles. "Have you met your enemy?"
"Not yet." He hesitates. "Can I see your mark?" He asks nervously, and Lafayette nods.
"You have to show me yours." Lafayette says, watching Alex. Alex nods simply, and Lafayette removes the band around his wrist. Surely enough, there's the name Charles Lee; written neatly, centered nicely. Hercules Mulligan is on his left, written messily.
Alex goes to the closet. "I just need to change shirts, and then I'll show you." He promises, pulling a t-shirt out and going into the closet. He shuts it and removes the long sleeved shirt, allowing it to drop. He puts the other one on and hesitates as he rolls his sleeves up. "You can't tell anyone outside of this house, okay?"
"Understood, mon frère." Alex smiles slightly and steps out. A small gasp escapes Lafayette as he goes over, staring at his right arm. "Alexander, c'est beau..." Lafayette carefully grabs his arm, studying the mark carefully. His eyes land on the scene depicted on the handle of the quill pen. He examines the three words, the pen, and finally his eyes land on the name. They widen and a small swear escapes him. "Je connais Thomas Jefferson," he breathes, looking at Alex briefly before looking at his right arm.
"You do?" Alexander asks, eyes widening when he is told this little fact. His soulmate, his enemy, he would be meeting him sooner than expected if Lafayette is telling the truth.
The other boy nods, his eyes meeting Alexander's once more. "I do, he's in my classes and he's a rather good friend of mine."
With this fact brought to light, Alex was a bit nervous as he watches Lafayette's gaze move to his right arm, where the name of one of Lafayette's close friends sits. The other grabs his arm and examines the spilled ink, the words, and the bottle. Then, his eyes land on the name. Thomas Jefferson. Suddenly, Lafayette's face changes, and he lets go of Alex's wrist. "You... he's..."
"I know." Alex says simply, looking down before taking a deep breath. "He's a close friend of yours?"
"Ah- oui..." He says hesitantly, staring at the name. "I... I'm so sorry Alexander."
"Don't be. Can you tell me about him?" Alexander asks, watching as Lafayette begins to think.
"He's interesting," Lafayette says slowly. "He loves to read, and he has more books than he could possibly count. He has a macaroni and cheese addiction, along with an addiction to ice cream." Alexander watches as the French boy chuckles. "He's a hopeless romantic, talking about l'amour and how he is going to take his soulmate, you, on a perfect date. 'One that will have them positively swooning,' is how he put it."
The two spoke until they heard Martha calling them down for dinner. Lafayette stands up and goes to the door, glancing back when Alexander doesn't follow him. "Mon petit lion, c'est le diner, allons-y," Lafayette practically chirps, not leaving the doorway until he sees Alexander following him.
The two sit down next to each other, with Martha and George sitting across from them. On the table sits chicken, rice and salad. Both his and Lafayette's plates already have some food on them. Martha's brown eyes catch the marks on Alex's arm first.
"You have tattoos?" She asks, and Alex shakes his head no. She seems confused for a moment, but her eyes widen when she realizes. "Oh Alex- your soulmate must be someone special." George nods in agreement and glances at Alex's right arm.
"Your enemy must be someone horrible." He says, and Alex looks down.
"They are the same person." Lafayette says for him. "It's Thomas Jefferson."
Silence fills the room for but a moment. Martha smiles gently. "When you meet him, I'll help you." She offers.
"What if it... it doesn't work out?"
"While this is rare, Alexander, I promise you that it can work. There are people out there in the same situation as you are, and they made it work. I have no doubt that you'll be able to make it work as well." George says encouragingly. "It may take a while, but you'll be fine."
"Besides, Thomas is a hopeless romantic. You may not get along with him right away but I've heard him speak of l'amour so many times. He has said so many rather encouraging things." Lafayette says, and Alex pauses.
"... Did he ever tell you about the names on his wrist?"
"Non, non, he didn't. He said he would do it after he found out," Lafayette smirks slightly, "and I found out before him."
Alex nods now. "You won't tell him...?"
"I'll stay quiet till you two meet." Lafayette promises, and George chuckles.
"Meaning you'll avoid him for as long as you can so you don't say anything." Lafayette nods, and the now family begins to eat.
Alexander looks at them, then his plate. The food has such a nice and tempting smell despite it being so simple.
"Are you going to eat?" George asks, and Alex's head snaps up. He nods nervously, although it feels so wrong to him.
He has done nothing to earn the food. He hasn't helped with any chores, nor has he done anything remotely useful. Hesitantly, he starts to cut the chicken breast and takes a bite, quiet as he begins to eat.
At the end of the meal, Alex had eaten a little less than half of the food on his plate. In an attempt to relieve some of the guilt he felt for eating, he helps Martha and George clean up while Lafayette stood there, begging for the two to allow someone named John and his soulmate, Hercules to come over. After promising to clean the washroom, living room and kitchen tomorrow, he was able to convince the two to allow John and Hercules over for a sleep over.
"You must include Alexander. It will be nice for him to have some friends at the school," Martha says as she watches the boy. He grins.
"Je sais maman. That was the plan." He says, going to get ready.
Alex finishes doing the dishes and is quickly released after with Martha and George allowing him to go to his room. Alex goes in and smiles slightly. Unlike outside, he finds his room is rather cool. He shivers softly and goes to his closet, grabbing a light sweater. Next, he pulls the pillows and blankets off of his bed and carefully puts them on the window seat. The boy sits down with his laptop and turns it on, opening safari and logging in to an online program that would be able to store all of his writing.
Alexander Hamilton allows himself to get lost in the words he writes to his soulmate.