Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

LXXXIX: Two Tragic Russians

❝A promise must never be broken.❞
—Alexander Hamilton

"Alexander!"

He stumbles forward for a moment, and he would've tumbled to the ground if I weren't there to keep his balance.

"(Y/N)..."

"You're shot!"

He examines the redness of his hands as if to make sure that what he sees is not an illusion. But this is far from a dream. Alexander sucks in a sharp breath and regains his composure

"(Y/N), we have to go."

Blood drips to the snow.

"We have to get you help!"

"No."

"Yes! We can't let you-"

"No one is going to help us, (Y/N)."

Alexander's voice is firmer than I've ever heard it, and his gaze is nearly cold. He's never looked at me like that before. My lip trembles as I scan his face. My heart is speeding up. My breath is shallowing. My head is spinning.

The sound of approaching soldiers treading through the snow catches our attention. Our time is limited.

"(Y/N)."

My name draws my eyes back to meet with Alexander's.

"Alex-"

"Follow me."

I can't protest before Alexander links his bloody hand with mine, pulling me into the confines of the forest.

Shouts from German soldiers follow. They've seen us. They're pursuing.

Alexander breaks into a run, and it's all I can do to keep up with his pace.

Shots are fired towards us, striking the bark of the bare trees with sharp snaps. We zig and zag, twist and turn, changing direction constantly to get the dogs off our scent.

We leave a maze of footprints to confuse the soldiers. And it works.

The sound of our pursuers fades further and further as we manage more distance. But even then, we keep running. We don't stop...

Alexander's pace suddenly slows. His steps become sloppy and he nearly runs into a tree. It comes to the point that I'm leading him rather than the other way around.

He's struggling to keep up with me now.

That's never happened before. Alexander has always been far faster than me.

"Keep going!" I encourage. "Please, Alexander! Keep running!"

He does. Perhaps for my sake more than for his own. But it's clear every stride of his is unbearably agonizing. His energy is depleting. He can't keep up with this.

But I refuse to believe it.

Even when he falls against a tree, slipping into the snow.

I turn back for him, dropping down to help him up. "Alexander, please get up!"

His blood has stained through his coat. He sees this, but he takes my hand nonetheless.

Once he's back on his feet, he hobbles along. One foot after the other. Such a basic process never looked so challenging.

He doesn't make it another minute before he falls against another tree.

"Alex, get up!" I pull his hand.

"I can't."

"You have to!"

"(Y/N)..."

"Please!"