Gay panic makes people say some really fucking weird things

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A/N: I read The Yellow Wallpaper, and this was the result of that. I...I don't even know anymore.

...

John Laurens was never very popular. Talking wasn't his strong suit, neither was being the centre of attention, and, frankly, John preferred to stay in the background. That's what he was told he deserved. By the voices in head, of course, because it's not like he had any friends. He carried a book everywhere and, every chance he got, he was reading. He used to sketch in elementary school until a teacher pointed out how dark and depressing his artwork was, and John didn't draw again.

In middle school he had a Walkman that he carried around everywhere. No music played through it; he recorded people and listened to them over and over again. He liked the sound of other peoples' voices. He liked hearing how well other people could communicate.

All throughout school--elementary, middle, and high--John was bullied, teased, beat up, picked on, and called names. No matter how hard John tried to blend in by changing his clothes, cutting his hair, buying expensive shoes, it didn't seem to work. John was a target for bullies.

Especially Alexander Hamilton.

John liked looking at Alexander Hamilton. And Alexander Hamilton was John's favourite to record. Alex was funny. He had this sarcastic drawl that mesmerized John. His arrogance weighed with his ambition and intelligence evened Alex out, making him an almost decent person. And although Alex teased and belittled John, if he caught anyone else doing it, he was quick to degrade them about it. And that made butterflies flutter around in John's stomach.

It was like Alexander was this knight in shining armour that never showed an ounce of weakness; a character trait that John wished he himself had. Since John was an emotional person, the fact that he'd never seen Alex break down and cry was exciting. And, in high school, when Alex suddenly developed this burning anger and got into fights and spent more than his fair share in detention, it excited John even more. 

The day John Laurens told Alexander Hamilton that he wanted to marry him was just an ordinary day. John hadn't planned on talking to Alex that day. If he did, he definitely would've made sure he wore something nice. He also would've made sure it was on a Friday and that he had a plan as to what he was going to say to Alex. He also would've made sure it wasn't in the school cafeteria. 

Nevertheless, the day he told Alex he wanted to marry the older boy was a Tuesday. He was wearing this stupid Xmas sweater in the middle of February with a pair of purple leggings and his younger brother's old sneakers that were much too tight for him. He didn't have a plan as to what to say to Alexander Hamilton. And he marched up to Alex's lunch table in the middle of lunch and blurted out one single sentence.

"I want to marry you," he stated.

First, the people at Alex's table stopped talking.

"You want to marry him?" One girl asked for conformation.

When John nodded, Alex laughed loudly. "What would possess me to marry you?!"

A hush fell over the cafeteria. It only lasted for a second, though, because when John repeated his outlandish fantasy, the entire cafeteria erupted with laughter.

"Don't put yourself through anymore embarrassment; go play with your barbies." Alex snickered, glancing at his posse.

John wasn't giving up that easy, though. He was already humiliated so why back down now? And what did he care if everyone laughed at him? All he wanted was to be noticed by Alex. "I want to marry you," John repeated for a third time.

Alex stood up, using his three extra inches to advantage over John. He stabbed his finger into the younger man's chest. "Why," he lowered his voice, "should I marry you?"

That was something John hadn't thought about. He knew he wasn't worth it, and he knew even more that he didn't deserve Alexander Hamilton. "That's what I want," John mumbled, avoiding Alex's gaze.

Alex backed up a bit. He wasn't just gonna dismiss the poor boy. He liked messing with John, and, what he liked even more, was putting on a show. He glanced back at his friends.

"You heard the kid. He wants to marry you," one of his clique members said, snickering.

Alex turned back to John. "I'll make you a deal, kay? If you beat me in a game of poker, then in ten years if I'm not married, you come find me, and I'll marry you." 

John thought it over. His entire fairy tale dream rested on a game of poker in his juniour year of high school. "You'll marry me if I beat you in poker and if you're not married in ten years," John stated as conformation.

"If you win and I'm not married in ten years, sure. I'll marry you. Why the fuck not?"

"Okay," John decided. "Promise?"

"Sure." Alex laughed. "I promise." He stuck out his hand. "I'll even shake on it if it makes you fucking happy."

John shook Alex's extended hand. Then he turned on his heel, walking out of the cafeteria, beaming from ear to ear. He didn't falter when someone called him a slur and didn't cry when someone pointed at him and laughed. He just kept smiling. 

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