The Hall was completely empty when Hamilton arrived, twenty minutes early. His intent was to leave John Laurens as late as he possibly could - 20 minutes early seemed so late to him. Taking his regular seat, second row and centre, he pulled up the fold - table which slid from beside the armrest of his seat with only a small rusty squeak in protest. There was so much to write about, but Laurens was occupying so much space in his brain. Without even realising what he was doing, his pen was on paper, scribbling down frantic words with such haste he was sure the page was going to set alight.

Alexander was hunched over those pages about Laurens when Burr's voice startled him, out of seemingly nowhere, ten minutes later. "Hamilton, catching up on your work, I believe?"

"You wish, Burr," he snorted. "This isn't work, but also isn't much of your business, either. Can I ask why you're ten minutes early, when you're normally ten minutes late?" He grinned, loving the back and forth between them. For some reason, even though a substantial part of Burr's personality annoyed him, he found him an entertaining person. Almost as quick-witted as he was and always up for some passive-aggressive dialogue, their friendship was solidly love-hate.

"Do you know a John Laurens? Tall, bushy hair, blue eyes. Resembling a lion in all aspects." He asked, prodding, wanting to unravel more of Burr's character than he had ever previously wanted, or dare to.

"Yes. John Laurens. The activist? Photojournalist? He's an arrogant, dim-witted clown. A dangerous disgrace, if you ask me. Do you know him?" Hamilton swallowed, his jaw jutting out in what felt a lot like unbridled anger. This was going to be a problem. Aaron Burr, his first friend, rival, enemy, felt so strongly towards Laurens. And Laurens hated him right back. Of course, keeping them out of each other's way wouldn't be a problem, but if he was to actually date Laurens his presence at protests would get more than a little awkward.

"We're working together. I really admire him, to be honest. He's a good man."

"Oooooooooooooooooooh shit. Alexander don't tell me you're into him?" Hamilton sighed. Of course he would be able to tell, of course. It was Burr for fuck sake.

"Aaron, just try not to fail, you seem soo swept up in other people's relations-"

Just as he was about to serve Burr with another of his legendary burns, Lee rushed to his desk, papers unravelling and leaving a trail behind him, so theatrical Hamilton had to chuckle. This guy. "Burr, I'll catch you later. Text rather than ring, okay?"

"Sure. Have fun with Laurens," he replied with a wink, teasing and so sarcastic.

Hamilton didn't lie when he voiced his disinterest and disgust in Lee's teaching methods. The guy was a mess. Once he made a point he retreated back on it, changed it up, spewed out some other bullshit and then retreated on that again. There was no learning in his lectures. Not wanting the time to be wasted, Hamilton continued the seemingly endless pages of writings about Laurens. He hadn't even intended it to be so, but they turned into a long letter of pining and longing for the man. They started:

My Dearest Laurens,

I wish, it might be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you that I love you. Though you should not have taken advantage of my sensibility to steal into my affections without my consent, you have, and what has been done to my heart by your grace, is done...

It continued for pages, but as he reread it, he knew he was coming on far too strong. Love? They'd only just met. He knew he loved those eyes and that smile, but he also knew that love was not something to be thrown around, and not something he wanted to throw upon Laurens without his mutual understanding and consent (not that John Laurens had given him much in the way of consent when he lured him into falling, with those breathtaking features and soft voice...). Hamilton had known too much of love, maybe, to be fully sure that it was requited when it came to Laurens. Too many times had he rushed in to love, so sure, just to get his heart beaten and silenced beyond repair. He carried all of those heartbreaks with him, he had been doing so since he was in middle school and the first girl he loved spat in his face. He had known her since he was four and when he finally plucked up the courage to ask him out she had been so repulsed, he response was to. Actually. Spit. In. His. Face.

Obviously John Laurens wasn't like this, but the heartbreaks that had followed hadn't made it any easier for Hamilton to trust his own instincts. They haunted his very idea of love. He had chosen the temporary over the long-lasting for so long, he knew Laurens could possibly end that, but he needed time to pull his heart back from the unnecessary pace it was racing towards John at.

He looked down at his pages of writing again. In front of the class, Lee bounced around, his stupid haircut bobbing and waving in awkward directions as he lost his train of thought and faltered for the third time in one sentence. Hearing him speak didn't even deter Hamilton from thinking about Laurens. As he scanned what he'd written, he saw Laurens' face and knew he'd be waiting for him later that evening, knew that'd they'd go out to whatever bar Laurens chose, and he knew that he'd fall even further in love with him. What was the point of trying to hold himself back? All he had to do was remember that face and all his principles were out the door, running far, far away.

As if reading his mind, a text from Laurens lit up his phone.

Laurens: Hey, Hamilton. Still up for hanging out tonight? We can do dinner if u don't feel like drinks? Miss u already ;)

Fuck the heartbreak, fuck the chance of getting his heart broken by John Laurens. It would be such a pleasure. He decided, then and there that he'd give Laurens the letter. All of it. All eight pages. Oh god what was he doing?! Falling, yes, but so carelessly??

Hamilton: Maybe dinner would be more appropriate ;) You tell me when and where. I miss your eyes, Laurens. Make it soon, I need to set mine on you ASAP.

Cheesy. But screw it. Screw holding back and screw his past loves. Laurens was the only one that mattered. Let him lead my heart, Hamilton thought, letting a smile befall his lips, totally smitten.