S T U D Y [Hamilton AU] (LAMS)

1

alexander

Today was the day I would be starting my sophomore year in college. No more of that Laurens crap. I wouldn't have to put up with his antics any longer. I checked in, grabbed my key, not bothering to listen to who my roommate was. I had two duffle bags strapped across me and a backpack full of textbooks, one push and I would be like a turtle that fell back and couldn't get back up. So, to find out that my dorm was on the third floor was not the most pleasing thing to hear. But I didn't mind. If the three flights of stairs were necessary to get away from that Laurens boy, then so be it. I found my dorm, at the end of hall, with the door cracked open some.

I adjusted my bag straps and walked it. My heart dropped when I saw what was happening. John fricking Laurens stood there, adjusting a fricking tank on one of the desks. He turned around with a huge grin on his face, which quickly dropped when we made eye contact.

"You've got to be kidding," he muttered not-so-quietly.

"You're telling me," I jabbed back. I let out a deep sigh and dropped my bags on the bunk on the opposite side of the room. I could feel his glare on the back of my neck as I began neatly putting things away and stacking my books ever so evenly on my desk, the one that didn't have a turtle tank on it. "Why do you even have that?"

"What?"

"What else, you idiot?" I said, pointing to the tank.

"Someone's in a mood. And it's just a turtle. It won't kill you, Sortirican."

"What did you call me?" I felt my hands form fists.

"Sortirican," he replied casually, turning back to shoving away his things.

I had no idea what he meant, but I didn't want to hear that voice for one more second. I felt my question rise in m'y throat, and I didn't want to say anything, but I couldn't stop myself. "What the hell does that even mean?" I said impulsively.

"Sortirican. Like, you're sort of Puerto Rican, aren't you?"

"I'm from the West Indies, douchebag!"

"Same difference."

I wanted to hit him. I wanted to punch. Tackle him and smack him around. But his plus two inches in height and slight muscle meant that I had no chance of doing that, considering my noodle thin arms and short stature. I sighed roughly and continued to put away my things. I finally made my bed and was satisfied with how it all looked.

I looked over at his side of the room and it was a mess from end to end. The guy didn't even put effort into making his bed. Really? You've been here all of three hours!

"Do you not believe in a clean room?" I said, plugging my laptop in to charge.

"I know where everything is, Sortirican."

"Knock it off," I growled.

"It suits you," he teased. I glared at him but he just glared right back.

"Don't you have friends or someone you can hang out with?"

"You don't," he grumbled.

"Wasn't the question, idiot."

"Just stating a fact, Sortirican."

"Will you stop that?!"

"Bite me."

"I'll throw your turtle out the window."

His face flushed. He narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't."

"Bite me," I mocked. He sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You're right. I do have friends. See you later."
He yanked his keys from the desk that was overcrowded with books and papers and his jacket. He tipped an invisible hat and curtsied. "Your wish has been granted Sortirican."

I threw a book at the door as he shut it behind him. I didn't know what I could do to John to get back at him. I couldn't just trash his side of the room, since it already was. And I'd never be able to hurt an animal. So I just plopped on my bed and started to read one of my books when a great idea popped into my head.

I dog-eared my page and sat up, looking around his half of the room. My brain lit up with ideas on how I could organize everything. I organized his papers on his desk and put his textbooks on the little bookshelf that was supplied to us.

I made his bed and tidied up to the best of my abilities, but I didn't dare touch his clothes, so his drawers remained a mess. Finally, I sat at the desk and stared at the turtle, who stared back at me. I took it out of its tank and let it walk all over the desk. It was cute and entertaining for the first five minutes. Then I quickly became paranoid with the thought of it falling and dying and I would be stuck with a moping John who would never let me hear the end of that. So I put it back in its tank and dug around for some food to give it. Someone had to care for this thing.

I sat back on my bed and continued reading. I could read forever and I could write even more. After I read about five chapters, I marked my place and put the book up. I grabbed my computer to make sure I was up to date with all my classes, and I double and triple checked my schedule. Everything had to perfect, especially since I could not have been given a worse roommate.

I picked up my book again and finished it. I checked the clock, and it was already 10. John still wasn't back yet. As a person of morals, I'll admit I was a little worried about him, but I ignored it to the best of my abilities. The last place John Laurens needed to be was in my brain.

I could feel my body starting to get tired, and since we still had a week before classes started, I figured sleep would be my best option, since I know it's something I'll be lacking in the near future. I found my way to the showers and then changed into some sweatpants and a t-shirt before climbing under my blankets and falling asleep.

-

I shot up in my bed as a loud thud echoed in the room. I turned on my lamp and looked at the sight before me. John had knocked the textbooks off the shelf, mine included, and then proceeded to change in front of me.

"I hate you Sortirican," he grumbled, turning around to face me as he pulled his shirt off.

"I told you to stop calling me that."

"Why'd you do this man?"

"Because I can't stand having a messy roommate, and I can barely stand looking at you. Put a shirt on you hippie."

"So you think organizing my stuff is gonna help? Where the hell is all my stuff? I-I don't know where anything is!"

"Sounds like a personal problem."

"Fuck you, Sortirican," he laughed. He put another shirt on and changed into a pair of shorts.

I rolled my eyes, fixed the books, climbed back into bed, and turned the lamp off. I hate John Laurens.