wed.

Conversations with Hamilton

...

John leaned over the desk, craning his neck. He leaned on his elbows and pulled off his headphones to his walkman. "Are you busy?"

Alex looked up from his laptop. "Well, yes, I mean...I'm at work. Why are you here again?" John just shrugged. "Okay, well, you're popping my bubble of personnel space."

John sat back a bit. He pulled a new tape out of his bag, clicking it in. He pulled out his headphones and pressed record. "When are you supposed to leave work? Why do you work so late? Is your work hard?"

Over the last week or so, John had been staying over at Alex's. He slept over and disappeared during the day, going to work, and then coming back around seven or eight pm. John didn't work much now. He always got to the school late and hadn't been to his dish washing job in, what, six days. But he'd sit on Alex's doorstep and wait for Alex to get home. They'd walk inside. Alex would pour them some hot tea and they'd walk upstairs. John would go to his room and Alex would usually disappear into his office. When John could sleep, he slept late into the morning; late being two hours after Alex got up. Alex would already be gone, so John would walk out through the back and make sure to lock the gate behind him. On nights when he couldn't sleep, he'd toss and turn, and then make his way downstairs early in the morning where Alex was sitting at the table with the newspaper and a steaming cup of coffee. They didn't talk. John would press his face against the table and try to get a couple more minutes of not really sleep and then they'd walk out together. John started down the streets of New York and Alex would drive off in his car.

"You're very talkative today." Alex pointed out. "Besides, shouldn't you be at work? Do you work? What the hell do you do all day?"

John had shown up at Alex's office after he left the high school. He was feeling a bit clingy today and one of his students had told him that there was something fucked up in his head after John showed his students a painting he did. "I'm a high school art teacher." John shrugged. 

Alex leaned back in his chair, looking amused. "You're a teacher? You can't look me in the eye when you're talking to me and you're a teacher. How's that work?"

John was silent for a second. "It's art. There's not much to it."

"Did you like high school?" Alex asked. He put his hands behind his head, leaning back against the chair.

John shifted and crossed his legs. He grabbed Alex's pen, doodling on some paperwork. "I didn't hate it. I liked that I could skip class and hide in the library and read. You can't do that in middle school." He looked up and cocked his head with a small smile. "Did you like it?"

"Sure. Yeah. I had good friends. I was top of all my classes." Alex nodded. "High school was okay. Did you hate me in high school?"

John giggled. "I could never hate you, Alexander. You're gonna marry me." 

Silence blanketed them, and it became uncomfortable for Alex. He shifted and coughed. "It's late. Let's get out of here. Thomas and Laf are at the coffee shop. Let's stop there before we go home."

"Home," John muttered. It sounded foreign on his lips. "Alexander," he said softly. Alex's eyes shifted from his desk to John, who looked away. "Are you okay with me staying over? Is it weird?"

Alex pondered this for a long time as he packed up his stuff. He situated his computer bag on his shoulder and then nodded to himself. "You're not getting hit. And that's what matters, right? Turn the light off and--where are my keys--oh, thanks. Mkay, let's go."

The car ride was quiet. John stared out the window, letting his mind wander. He looked over at Alex. Alex wasn't gorgeous by any means. His hair was a tangled mess, some of it pulled into a bun. His eyes were tired and had heavy dark bags under them. He had a scar running from his left eye to his jawline. But Alex always wore crisp white button down shirts and pressed black pants and recently shined black shoes. And his eyes may be tired, but John liked the focus you saw in them when Alex concentrated hard. He always smelled like expensive cologne, and not that Axe body spray shit that John's roommate was always doused in.