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

LVIII: Three Make a Comfortable Confrontation

"Broken vows are like broken mirrors. They leave those who held to them bleeding and staring at fractured images of themselves."
―Richard Paul Evans

I wake up cold. My eyes flutter open, and the first thing I see is a window across the room. The curtains block out all sunshine trying to seep into the room, leaving the space as a relatively-dark environment.

There's a presence next to me; Alexander, no doubt. We almost always sleep next to one another.

I'm exhausted and snuggle back under the covers of the bed, drifting back into an unconsciousness. But that's when I become aware of the bareness of my body. What?

I sit up slowly, brushing my hair back and looking down at myself. I never sleep naked. Does that-

I look at the person next to me. It's not Alexander as I had thought. It's John, sound asleep and as bare as I am.

That's when it all comes back to me: what Alexander and I did, what I had to explain to John, and, of course, the intimacy John and I shared.

I'm revolted when I think of it. Why would I do that so fast? What the hell is wrong with me?

I drank too much. Far too much... or so I try to use this as an excuse. The truth is, I know I did it because I wanted to. Not on a drunk whim.

I look over at John again, sighing because I still think he's handsome. He and I got to know one another on a different level.

Across the room is a clothing hook with a hoodie hanging by the hood. I don't know where my dress is, but I wouldn't want to wear it anyway. So I silently slip out of bed and slide over to the hoodie, pulling it over my body. It's John's no doubt. The dark red hoodie feels comfortable and soft against my sensitive skin, and it's big enough to fall half-way down my thighs.

Mmm, it smells like John-

I nearly slapped myself for such a weird thought. But the idea still lingers in my mind. It's so nice that I can't convince myself otherwise.

My mind is betraying me. I'm at war with my mind.

I go back to the bed, sitting at the edge of the mattress and momentarily contemplating my next move. I find my phone on the nearby bedstand, and I pick it up. Shit, it's nearly dead. I don't have my charger — hell, I don't have any of my belongings. They're back at the hotel on the island.

Nevertheless, I unlock my phone and check the time. It's nearly nine o'clock. That means I was asleep for a couple of hours. Everyone else in the country should be awake by now.

Hesitantly, I look at the news. There's a lot of news about me breaking the Instagram most-like record, but I don't care about that. There's also a lot of news about whatever Alexander tweeted yesterday, which was apparently controversial (I don't know what he said, and something tells me I don't want to know). But most importantly, there is news about the Alexander-James confrontation that happened last night.

Other celebrities at that club caught video of Alexander and James nearly going at it, and it's circling all around social media. People think it's hysterical! This is how they're interpreting it: James tried to make a move on me, and incomes Alexander to tell James to back the fuck off. James is the butt of the joke. They're making fun of him because "Alexander doesn't approve of his sister's boyfriend".

There's a lot wrong with that. Alexander isn't my brother, and James isn't my boyfriend. Of course, I can't say a goddamn thing about that. The former is a necessary lie, and the latter is a possible truth.