When Love Strikes at Twelve || A John Laurens x Slave!Reader Fanfiction

Chapter 1: Hope

"Everything that is done in this world is done by hope."
-Martin Luther

• • •

"We need to talk," Laf stated seriously.

"What about?" (Y/N) asked cautiously, furrowing her eyebrows.

Just as Laf opened his mouth say something, Alex stood up. "Okay, for starters, you can't be with him. You can't. It's taboo, it's stupid, it's-" he started, no sign of pity lacing his voice.

"Alexander, that's enough," Eliza stood up and cut him off, hoping to spare (Y/N)'s feelings from Alexander's pessimistic mindset. Striding over to (Y/N), she spoke to the girl softly, "What we're saying is, you and Master Laurens can't be... friends."

"Uh... I know..." (Y/N) replied quietly. She didn't have much hope before, but now, hearing it from Eliza, it was as if any possibility of a relationship John and (Y/N) might have had been shattered.

"Just try not to get too close," Angelica advised (Y/N) softly, wrapping an arm around her as if she was about to break.

Which she was.

A single tear slipped down (Y/N)'s cheek before she could stop it. Forcing her head down to the floor, (Y/N) quickly nodded and rushed to her bed. She closed her eyes tightly, knowing Eliza would try to comfort her if she was awake.

It was her fault, anyways. If she hadn't talked to him at the ball, she wouldn't have gotten attached and then she wouldn't be crying like an idiot in front of her friends.

Maybe she wouldn't have had that stupid, stupid hope.

• • •

The next day, John called (Y/N) to his room. He asked her to clean it, and of course, (Y/N) obliged.

Soon enough, she had found something.

Something interesting.

While (Y/N) dusted John's night stand, she saw something white lodged between the table and the floor. Sticking her arm under the table, she grasped on to the shoe and with slight difficulty, she pulled it out to see that it was a white shoe.

And not just any white shoe.

Her white shoe.

The shoe that she wore to the ball.

And without thinking, (Y/N) stuffed it into the pocket of her dress.

• • •

As soon as (Y/N) finished cleaning John's room, she started hurrying away. Not only did she want to avoid John, but she also needed to keep the shoe hidden.

(Y/N) came to a sharp halt as she felt a hand on her wrist. Expecting the worst, she turned to face the person who'd stopped her.

It was John.

He let go immediately, noticing the terror cloaking (Y/N)'s expression.

John had wanted to thank her, but instead of saying anything, he gave (Y/N) a tiny half-smile and patted her shoulder gently.