To Be or Not to Be | hamilton

fifteen : lafayette

{tw: anorexia, self-hate but laf has a cute lil warm monologue}

It was Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette that saw Henry Laurens first.

His stomach filled with dread and his heart filled with hatred.

He clenched his hands into fists as he contemplated what to do: fight or flight.

Henry made eye contact with him.

Flight.

}{

"Alexander, please."

"Go away, Laf," Alexander muttered, finding all of his money under his bed. "Shit!"

"What happened to John?!" Lafayette stood up. "You haven't seen him in a month. He needs you, Alexander. He says it every time I see him."

Alexander didn't answer, but rather grabbed a shirt and pulled it over his head.

"John is sick. His mind is sick. His heart," Lafayette crossed the room to Alexander, "is sick. You are ze medicine. Save him, please. Cure 'ze garçon. He has no hospital. He has not one thing. You get yourself drunk every night instead of paying 'ze bill. Instead of helping your friend. Help him,
please. It will be too late soon, my ami."

"I thought I asked you to go away, Lafayette."

Lafayette shook his head. "You just... don't get it, does you?"

"You must have meant-"

"Fuck what I meant, Alexander. He ees dying and you get high! Who are you?!" Lafayette laughed a bitter laugh. "But of course I do not it. I barely know English. I'm just a stupid Frenchie. I is sorry." He left, without waiting for Alexander to respond.

He knew Alexander wouldn't.

}{

"John, you need to eat." Lafayette now sat perched with a bowl of soup on his bed, trying to feed the small, freckled boy. After being released from the hospital, John was sent back to Lafayette's dorm. Nowhere else was safe.

John shook his head in refusal, burying his head in a pillow. "No."

"John-"

John hoisted himself up, staring at him indignantly. "Fuck food. I'm fat."

Lafayette looked at him. He was the skinniest person Lafayette had ever seen, and his heart ached due to John's inability to see his sickness. And nobody but Lafayette would help him. The world depended on money, and Alexander was off fucking some girl. "Can you... describe 'zis feeling to me?"

"Why? You're gonna tell all of them, aren't you? 'Oh, look. I have a fat friend who claims to be sick. He has anorexia but I think he's too fat! HHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!' No! Fuck. You."

Lafayette looked down, sighing. "John... I want to help you."

"Is there anywhere else I can live?"

"I am 'ze safest place." But not even I is safe, he thought to himself, remembering the text.

"Bull."

"Your father is back."

"Shit... he's gonna kill me! He's gonna kill you and Alexander and Aaron and Hercules and probably Thomas and James and it's all going to be my fault. I need to go, I need to go, I need to go-" John began to get up, but Lafayette sat him back down, grabbing his pencil-like arm and shuddering at how small his arm was. What had happened to him?!

"We worry about 'zat tomorrow. We must take... life one day at a time, oui? He will not hurt you tonight. Tonight, we must eat. You must tell me what is here-" he touched John's forehead- "and here," he finished with difficultly (English was such a difficult language), touching his stomach.

John sighed. "I... I hate myself, Laf."

"Why so?"

He shook his head slowly, and Lafayette could tell the skinny boy was trying to describe it. "I fuck it all up. All of it."

"I do not think so."

"You don't know me!"

"Tell me, then. Let me know you."

"Have you ever grabbed a glass of water? And dropped it?" Lafayette nodded. "How did that feel?"

"I was upset. 'Twas a lot to clean."

"When I drop water, I think 'Great. I can't even get water without fucking up.' I wake up every morning starving, but I can't eat because I'm fat and need to reach my goal weight. Maybe I'd have an apple later, maybe not. No more than three hundred calories, though. Because then I'd be binging and that'd make me fat. Disgusting.

"What's going on with me, my dear Lafayette, is a series of
problems. Perfectionism. I make one mistake and I want to kill myself. No, scratch that. I breathe and I want to kill myself. I mess up everything. I was born a mistake. A broken condom, a drunk one-night stand. And I'm still one, twenty years later. I don't want to be here, Lafayette. I want to be skinny and beautiful, and then I want to be dead. So no, I will not eat the soup."

Lafayette was quiet for a moment, processing what John had said. "John?"

"What."

"I do not think you are fat. Don't interrupt me. I think you are skinny. But I do not think beauty has a weight limit. I think 'zat beauty is in everyone. I see beauty in you, too. I see your curly hair and 'zat is beautiful. I see your freckles and 'zat is beautiful. I see your pianist hands and 'zat is beautiful. I see John Laurens, and 'zat is beautiful. Beauty is on 'ze inside as well, 'n' you are beautiful 'zerr as well. You have a lovely heart. You are 'zerr for everyone. You are kind and smart, and 'zat makes you beautiful. John Laurens is beautiful. John... I don't like how you see yourself. I want to help you. I want you to see your beauty. 'Ze scale is not you. Life is more than numbers. John, I know you think 'zat you are fat. But, I see you and I want to help you. I am scared 'ze wind will knock you over one day. Too skinny. My mother would have killed you for being like 'zis. I do not like it. 'Zis is not beautiful, 'zis is scary. So, please. Here comes the airplane?"

Lafayette held up a spoonful of broth, bringing it to John's lips. "Just 'ze half of bowl. I will be happy."