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

LXI: One Horrible Thought

❝Part of me aches at the thought of her being so close yet so untouchable. ❞
—Nicholas Sparks

July 22, 2059.

I had to leave. Eventually. It was hard to depart from John — neither of us would want to — but New York was calling. 

I took a red-eye to New York City, and my plane landed before the sun could rise. It was the misty part of the day when the sky is grey and the air is chilly.

Alexander picked me up from the airport. It was... I was scared, to be completely honest. Not of him, but of myself.

The drive to our home between NYC and Albany was completely silent. Neither of us said a word. I just wanted to get home and go to sleep — I didn't get a wink on the flight in anticipation of what was to come.

I held my bag of belongings close to my chest, only taking occasional glances at Alexander. I'm unsettled by how... by how normal he looks. I don't know what I expected. But he looks completely natural.

Everything about him. Even his violet eyes, so familiar to me, for I've known it all my life.

As the sun begins rising, we finally arrive at our home. I nearly forgot what it looks like, and yet, as I gaze upon it, I release a sigh of comfort. I wonder how long Alexander has been here since I know he was previously in Washington DC. The sprinklers for our front yard is on, and the glorious fountain we have is the center of attention for morning birds.

We pull into the long driveway, then the car comes to its slow stop. The purr of the engine comes to an abrupt end when Alexander pulls the key out of the ignition. He holds the key in his fist, staring at the steering wheel.

The silence endures for another minute. We should just get out of the car, but that thought doesn't occur to me. I feel like I have to say something. I have to at least call his name.

it's funny. I can't remember a clear moment when I learned his name. I've been saying it since I was a baby, so of course, I don't remember. But I like to think that I was born with his name engraved in my mind like God knew that Alexander would be unfathomably important to me.

I have to say something. I have to.

"Alexander."

I suck in a small breath when Alexander finally looks at me, his violet eyes showing no sign of a heavy heart. He looks at me the way he always has: with utter adoration.

"(Y/N)."

I can't let him take control of this conversation. He always has control, but not this time. There's a lot I need to tell him and a lot he needs to tell me, and the only way I'll get what I want is if I make him submissive. I have no time for manners.

"Alexander, we need to talk about-"

"I love you, (Y/N)."

I blink, sickened by guilt when I hear him say this. My throat becomes dry and my mind is racing with self-loathing thoughts. I take this as a sign of losing control of the conversation, so I won't let it happen.

"Alexander, listen to me. What happened back on that island is private. No one knows other than you, me, and John. So we-"

"And if you don't love me, that's okay," he interrupts me again. "If you love John instead, that's okay. I'll never know why. He doesn't understand that your soul is precious — he doesn't understand that he can't hold your soul — not the way that I understand. But I don't resent you for your choice — I don't resent you for discarding me. I don't like myself either."