The Place to Be - John Laurens x male reader

Chapter 6

It was a week since John had held my hand in my tent. Now, I'm amused by the fact that I see John holding my hand as a milestone in the month.

But it was a milestone for me. John hadn't been into my tent at all over the past few days. Obviously, he was confused at the fact that I had actually held his hand. I don't even know why he did it. Maybe to comfort me? But I hadn't shown any need of comfort. Not that I didn't like the fact that he held my hand.

See, I've been thinking about that night almost every day since it happened. It's funny how one thing can take over one's brain for so long if it pleases. I kind of have been avoiding John's other friends since I spoke to them a week ago. I kind of have been avoiding John. Not on purpose, I think John is actually avoiding me.

Why am I not surprised, why would anyone actually want to be around me. I must be so annoying to hang around with, too overcome with work and too stressed about the war. But how can you not be worried about the war? The British are slowly moving in and I'm worried that there'll be a full-fledged war any time soon. Which is why we're pushing the soldiers to their limits, teaching them how to fight so they can protect their country.

It's a hard task, and I feel terribly sorry for the out-of-breath soldiers. But what else are we to do with the war looming above our heads?

Sighing, I step out of my tent and notice that the sun is peeking through the folds of the trees and the tops of the tents. I see the mailboy walking up and down, delivering letters to everyone. I see him look at the next letter and his eyes widen slightly. Shrugging, he begins to walk over to my tent.

That's strange. Who would be writing to me?

"Lieutenant Washington," he nods, handing the letter to me. "I assume you haven't anything for me?" He adds dryly. I shake my head, thanking him as I walk back into my tent, gazing at the letter in my hand. I recognise the handwriting, it's the writing of-

Oh shit.

My father, George Washington.

What could he be writing to me for if it wasn't anything bad? Groaning, I tear open the envelope, careful to not rip the note inside. Taking it out, I rub the bridge of my nose and read it silently.

Y/n,

I hope you receive this letter soon. Before I get onto the bad news, I must ask how you have been getting on.

I resist the urge to skim down to the bad news.

I do hope you've found a girlfriend by now, I see no reason why you shouldn't. You do go to that pub in New York on your days off, correct? You're friends with a Schuyler sister, for heaven's sake! You can't figure out a way to court her yet? You have my blessing, and I'm sure you would have Philip Schuyler's as well. As my son, getting a woman should be easy, and yet you are still alone.

I also hope that your soldiers are doing alright, and that your friends Johnson, Williams and Samuels are faring well in the vigorous training. A war is approaching, my boy, and we cannot wait any longer. You must make sure that your soldiers are doing the very best they can, and make sure your especially good soldiers are at the head.

I am afraid that the British are drawing ever nearer, and there is still no word from France - or Spain for that matter - so for the moment, we are on our own, Y/n. We must stay vigilant, and never fail to serve our country.

King George III is becoming increasingly insane, and the more insane he gets, the more dangerous he gets. You must be aware that the army may be doing rather rash things under his command. Please be careful, my son. You are my only son, my only child, and I love you with all my heart. Come back from this war alive, so you can live your life to the fullest, experience the wonder that is having children, and continue our legacy. (Ok so I know George Washington had step-children but we're ignoring that)

I have heard that Alexander Hamilton is under your command. I shall be coming soon to speak with him, so please warn him in advance. I would not wish people to scream over me like crazed fans.

Sincerely,

Father

Goddamnit, is no-one going to stop irritating me over the subject of my non-existent girlfriend? What's so bad about being lonely?

And Father is coming. That'll be terrifying. He didn't even say how soon he was coming. How am I supposed to know how to prepare for that? I see no other way except to write a reply, as much as I hate communicating with people over letter.

How are my fellow Lieutenants and troop commander going to respond to the fact that the General himself is coming? What if people expect him to be like me? Or, even worse, me to be like him? I'm going to have to tell them sooner or later, because I do not know when he'll be coming. 

He also said he wished to speak with Alexander Hamilton. I wonder what he wants from him. I do hope it's nothing bad. 

Sighing, I step out of my tent, not exactly knowing what the day is to include.

I am sorry this chapter is this short. I'm really stressed atm about school and my brain is not thinking of anything good to write. I promise I'll try and get better but I've been a bit overwhelmed by schoolwork right now. Thank you so much for reading, I really appreciate it.

See you all soon, and, hopefully, with a better chapter!

- AngelOfMusic7