In New York You Can Be a New Man

Chapter Twenty-One

In which John is a confused person and Peggy is a literal angel. Also, John and Alexander are mutually pining and it hurts sometimes.

My heart goes out to those lost/wounded in the Orlando shooting and their families. What happened there was incredibly cruel. No one should be hurt for what they believe, the color of their skin, where they came from, or who they chose to love. My thoughts go out to you.🙏🏻

In case you missed it, Hamilton won 11 Tony's! The live preformance was amazing!!!
***

Inviting Maria into his room was a mistake. John could tell that once she started getting too close for comfort with John.

At first, John couldn't say "no" because he was afraid of hurting Maria's feelings; she had just broken up with her boyfriend, after all. John felt nothing toward Maria and was putting no passion into the kiss. Maria quickly figured out, and she shoved John out of the way and ran out the room in tears. Just like Alexander.

"Alexander."

John sucked in a breath and ran his fingers through his hair. John had styled his hair that very morning, but now it was a mess–between Maria's, Alexander's and his own fingers threading through it and changing its shape.

How had his life just flipped upside down? And without a warning, too?

--

John knocked on the door that separated him and Lafayette/Hercules' dorm room. In response, John heard the soft sound of sniffling.

"Mon cheri, relax. Herc, can you tell whomever is at the door to go away. I have a friend to take care of." Lafayette's soft, soothing French accent drifted from across the door.

The door slowly swung open, and Hercules with the full glory of his hand-made PJ's was displayed to John.

"Lafayette! It's John! Praise the Lord!" Hercules cried, wrapping John in an embrace. "Johnnycake, Alexander's been crying and we don't know how to get him to talk! Plus, we know you two are very close and–" Hercules shot John a suggestive look here. "–please help him John. We don't know what to do!"

At the mention of John's name, Alexander broke into a fresh round of tears. John's eyes met Alexander's, and their normally playful brown now looked like broken glass. A look that John wished Alexander would never have again.

"John?"

John was already out the door and sprinting down the corridor. Tears he never knew he had were streaming down his face. By the time Hercules got to the door, John was already out of the building.

There was only one solution screaming itself in John's mind. To write a pamphlet.

John could have smiled at the irony of this whole situation.

--

"You what?"

John winced at the sharp tone that hit him like a sucker punch. It had been a few days since the incident, but it still hurt like a fresh wound.

"Okay, I know I did stuff that was, like, wrong, but I–"

"John Laurens. What were you thinking?!"

Yeah, John wasn't quite sure what he was thinking.

Peggy, the calmest and most carefree of the Schuyler sisters, looked like she was going to leap across the table and strangle John.

"John. Maybe you should have thought about how Alexander feels. One: he's been giving you love-sick-puppy-eyes since you first met. Two: he's put up with all your emotional baggage and problems. Three: you were the one who asked him to the Valentine's Dance. You led him on. Four: the night after, he offers to help you deal with your problems. You shoot him down and push him away. Five: he walks in on you kissing a girl. Not a single thing he should be upset over. At all." Peggy said the last statement sarcastically.

"Alexander, he–we?"

John could feel his heartbeat speeding up, his vision starting to go fuzzy. Had he really been that oblivious to Alexander?

"I need to go talk to h-him." John shoved his chair away from the table and sprinted away from the table.

--

On John's way to the dorm room, he ran into Jefferson and Madison. Instead of Jefferson's normally cocky and snarly attitude, he seemed mopey.

"Laurens. Hey, can I talk to you for a sec? I only need a sec."

John couldn't refuse a request to someone that looked so sad. His friends had called it his weakness, but John took it as his calling to be a doctor.

"Yeah, what's up?"

"Alexander has been acting weirdly. He won't even try to debate anymore. It's not that I care, but he hasn't really been himself. And if you ask me, everyone else in the class isn't even worth debating–only Alexander is good enough for me. And if you can't fix him, I'm worried that he will do something stupid."

John stared at Jefferson, his jaw hanging open. "You are worried about Alexander?"

"Yeah–I mean no. I never meant to hurt him this much. I'll even let him be president just so that our team won't lose at Nationals. Please. I'll delete those photos and everything."

"Did you just say 'please'?"

"I won't say it again. Just fix him."

Jefferson pulled out his phone and deleted the photos. "There. Now go and make him better. I can't lose again to the King George Private School debate club again. C'mon Jamsie, let's go."

--

John had been standing outside the door of his dorm for many minutes, drawing many strange looks. His hand hovered somewhere between the door and his body, not knocking yet.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Alexander stood there, his hair perfectly tousled and his torso covered in an oversized shirt that read "Vive la Révolution!"

Alexander saw John, and he froze.