My Dear Laurens (Lams)

A. Hamilton

Laurens' hands touched Alexander's cheeks, his fingertips erasing the depth of sadness overflowing from Alexander's eyes, and taking their weight unto himself. With every labyrinthian line encircling the pads of Laurens' fingers, Alexander felt parts of himself open. The heart he had silenced for eternity was starting to beat again. There was hot, red blood shuddering inside his veins giving his body the life he had lost. Except, he had not lost his life. He had rebuked his when one life more precious to him than his existence had disappeared from his life. Except, he hadn't.  

Laurens was there, kneeling in front of him, raising himself higher to wrap his arms around Alexander, giving Alexander the crook of his neck to lean into. For what must have been hours, they didn't speak. What words could they voice to impress upon another a message clearer than bringing themselves closer to each other than they had been for a year? Alexander understood what little his mouth could do to release the same emotion his body was and at the same capacity.  

However, time had passed, and during that time, Laurens helped Alexander heal a little. He had to adjust first, in small portions, before he felt he could fully grasp the concept of not being alone again. He also had a lot to work on with himself. It's not as if Laurens could fix everything; Alexander had to do some of the work.  

Now, Alexander sat on his bed with Laurens by his side.  

"Do you want to go outside?" Alexander asked Laurens, turning his head to face him. "It would be better to clear the air when we're not in such a cramped room." 

Laurens smiled, then nodded. He held his hand out to Alexander and Alexander reached forward and let his fingers rest in Laurens' palm, brushing against, then wrapping around his hand until fingers intertwined and hands clasped. Alexander was led past his door to a wide expanse of field a block to the east behind his house. The field was filled with short, one-inch tall, white and purple flowers. Alexander didn't know what kind they were, but despite their closed-off, slumbering appearance and faint aroma, he thought they were fairly pleasant.  

He wasn't sure why he would pay any attention to flowers when Laurens was next to him, but he thought it might have something to do with the knot in his stomach. He felt unsure and a little light-headed. Now that Laurens was here, as he had begged and prayed to every God for, he seemed to lose his ability to operate as himself. Not once had he felt... awkward around Laurens, but tonight was different. They both knew what sadness they must have carried, what grief, and it placed a wall between them. Alexander suspected it was built because of a lack of knowledge. Neither of them knew what happened in the year they were separated from each other, and that wasn't exactly comforting. But they had to start somewhere, and Alexander decided it needed to start with Laurens. 

They lowered themselves to the bed of white and purple and sat. Laurens rested on one side, letting his arm keep his head upright, while his other arm lied among the flowers, fingering the petals of an especially small flower while refraining from uprooting it. Alexander sat up. Straighter than what felt comfortable, and unnatural enough for Laurens to notice, but not comment. However, Alexander still felt the determination to approach the fragile situation before them. It was unavoidable.  

"Tell me everything." 

Laurens' eyes rose to meet Alexander's. He nodded, then began to speak.  

"It was barely a battle." And then, the words rolled off Laurens' tongue in slow succession. With every step his story took, his life took, Alexander, felt that small empty part of his mind, empty because of a period it was intended to cover, but didn't, begin to fill. This man, who he thought had been killed, had gone through something so horrible death might have been the more desirable option. He had been targeted without reason by a man named Gray, who sold him to the redcoats after shooting him, he had been imprisoned, tortured, and been forced to watch the friends he made be hurt as well. Their stories no less painful than one might expect from a group of ragtag civilians, soldiers, protestors, and a kid, caught in a web spun by the crown. But past the people Laurens met, was the culmination of his journey. The endpoint of Pennsylvania.