Black Coffee, Red Lipstick, and Cigarette Smoke

Chapter Seventeen

A/N So this story is creeping to an end, though we do still have several chapters left. All that to say, I've started construction on another story, (that's what the picture is of.) I don't usually write out my story, most times I only type them. Yet, sometimes the words seem to flow better when I write. Also, what Harry Potter house are you all in?

Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

John's week had been a royal disaster. The water heater had stopped working again. He was sniffling at all hours, an annoying outcome of allergies. To top it all off, he had broken his arm.

That wasn't the first time John had broken a bone and he knew the damage before even arriving at the hospital. He had tripped up the steps on his way to biology, landing on his arm at an unusual angle. He was too irritated and stubborn to ask for assistance, so he drove himself to the hospital with one arm, cussing the whole ride there.

He was stuck in a sling for eight weeks and the hospital bills made him nauseous. John knew for a fact that there would be a heavy co-pay.

The thoughts of Alexander had yet to subside, plaguing his dreams at night. He swore he could still taste Alex's lips against his, remember each moment of their kiss, of their time together.

He wasted hours at a time contemplating his next move. Alexander deserved better than this, better than being shunned and ignored. John was also to blame, and he despised himself for making Alexander out as the villain.

John decided that enough was enough. Sure, he was incapable of breathing out of his noise, he could only use one arm, and he engaged in random coughing fits, but he knew it was time to pay Alex a visit.

Alexander was typing away at his laptop, and he had been doing so all morning. His fingertips were dry and cracked, an accumulation from typing and the frigid air. Christmas was in a month, a reminder that he'd be spending yet another year alone.

He wasn't even sure what he was writing about anymore. At first it had been a rant about Donald Trump. Then, to even the playing fields, he pointed out flaws with Hilary's campaign. He had then proceeded to post a quote from The Man and the Muck Rake.

Now, his fingers moved as his brain stayed still.  He was writing for the sake of comfort, writing so he could remember he wasn't a complete failure after all.

He heard a knock at the door and his breath hitched. He wasn't expecting guests. To be honest, he had stopped expecting anyone to visit. Why would anyone feel pity for Alexander when he had done this to himself?

In the doorway, John stood completely wrapped up in winter attire. His scarf covered above his nose and the only way Alexander knew it was John was by the copious amount of freckles splattered on his forehead.

After realizing he had been staring too long, Alexander invited John in. Alex remained emotionless, refusing to break in front of John. Obviously he was only here to taunt Alexander or to slice him down with words.

Instead, John embraced Alexander with one arm, nuzzling his nose against Alexander's neck. "Can we hang out?" He asked, breaking the hug and sitting down.

Alexander sat beside John, confused by his own emotions. "Are you here to yell at me?" He asked, hesitant at the notion of becoming attached again.

John laughed, the shrill noise reminding Alexander of simpler times, better times. "On the contrary." John assured. "I felt bad at how we left off. Perhaps we can try again."

Alexander's eyes opened in shock, convinced he had heard incorrectly. "Try again?" He questioned, confirming he hadn't just gone crazy.

John nodded, still grinning. "Yeah, let's start as friends, take it slow. It's stupid pretending we hate each other." 

Alexander Hamilton had never managed to shut up before. Now, he felt speechless. Words caught in his throat, while at the same time, hope bloomed in his chest. He was awestruck by John's magnanimous nature, his forgiveness being perceived as unimaginable.

He swallowed, hoping whatever words he could manage out wouldn't sound stupid. "I'd like that a lot." His voice was more squeaky than intended, but he couldn't help but smile.

"Great!" John announced, clasping his hands together. "I thought we could do something ridiculously stereotypical." He joked.

"What did you have in mind?"

They managed to watch the first three Harry Potter movies before John began to feel tired. He had never realized before how much Alexander talked during movies. He was a bubbly mess, acting as though each scene was the first time he has seen it.

John on the other hand became completely absorbed in the cinematic world. He was moved by the familiar story, only speaking when he would whisper spells along with the characters.

Alexander insisted on watching Goblet of Fire and John couldn't object. Though the fourth movie was his least favorite, seeing Alexander so giddy brought joy to his heart.

They were only about five minutes in when John fell asleep. Alexander spent most of the movie watching John's chest rise and fall in sync to his own breathing. He brushed a strand of hair out of John's face, placing a gentle kiss on his forehead.

John awoke as the movie ended, apologizing profusely for sleeping. He looked dazed and still pretty groggy. Alex had to admit it was adorable.

"Want me to drive you home?" Alexander offered, knowing it was at least midnight, if not later.

John winced at the thought of braving the harsh temperatures. "I could just stay here." He joked, yawning afterwards.

Alexander relented, more than happy at the idea. John wore a pair of Alexander's old pajamas. They were warm and he was grateful for the clothes, but they didn't fit at all.

"Thank you." He mumbled, curling into bed. First Alexander rubbed his arm, but eventually his hand trailed to John's back.

Alexander traced letters on his back, something he remembered his mother doing when he couldn't sleep. He took in everything about the moment, John's smell, his touch, his everything.

He wanted to remain in the moment forever, to lock out the rest of the world, refuse anything which could break them apart.

There was an overwhelming sense of nostalgia, something he only felt with John. He tried all night to figure out and explain the feeling, but he couldn't. Alexander didn't have the vocabulary to describe the sense that overwhelmed his body. He drifted to sleep thinking about it, the realization being his last thought before passing out.

He was finally home.