Mullette - I've never been satisfied

(1) I look into your eyes and the sky's the limit

A/N: This will be in Lafayette's P.O.V unless I say other wise. Laf doesn't know a lot of English, but the story will be in English, with the French being translated from google translate. If anything is incorrect, please tell me. Also, I curse a lot. Get used to it.

This is the first day of college. The first day of a new life. My new life. Thousands of thoughts  course through my head as I think of what could go right, and what could go wrong. 'Concentrate Laf!' I silently think to myself.  I have a bad habit of thinking out loud, which can be bad in front of strangers. A small bag that has a change of clothes and a couple books in French lie at my feet. A crappy phone I wish I could have forgotten sits in my pocket. I like the past, not so much technology. My family made me bring it so I could talk to them. 

The sight of the huge college slowly appears in the cab window. It's a dull, plain tanish colour. The roof is a dark shade of brown. Although the colours aren't that pleasant, I know they will start to grow on me. 

"That will be twenty bucks kid," the cab man says. I gave a single twenty, which emptyed my pockets of American money. I should have about fifty dollars in euros. I guess I have to go to the bank tomorrow. Surely someone around here will know where one is. 

I walk out of the cab, and watch in defeat as it speeds away in a flash of yellow. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. But, it's to late to turn back now. The cool, Saturday night air chills my back as I head into the college.

Somehow, I stumbled across the main office. A bald man is standing behind the desk, typing away at a computer like he's running out of time. "Ummm... Pardon...." I try to say. The man looks up. 

His eyes are like the soil of the Earth. He gives me a smile. "Hello, I'm Mr. Washington. I teach a law class. You must be Lafayette. Here's your schedule," he says, handing me a sheet of paper. Times and class are type there in fine print. The only thing I understood that Washington said was his name, my name, and the sheet of paper that would now control my life. 

I say in the best English I could, "Please, French. English learning." He nodded his head. Steadly, he points to a number on the paper. ROOM NUMBER : 1757. Funny, the year one of my favourite revoultary fighters was born. Then Washington pulls out a map and circles what I think is my room. I take it ginerly and walk out the office.

After a few minutes, I find myself on the fourth floor, walking down a long hallway. At the end of the hall stands a dark wooden door. 1757. My new home. My grip on my bag tightens. Shakliy, I extend my hand and knock on the door. 

A beautiful stranger opens the door. He's taller than me by about half a foot, despite pretty tall myself. I look into his eyes and feel like the sky is below my feet. I stare at him for a while. I mean, until it gets creepy. Thankfully, he says something to snap me out of my trance. 

"Hi, I'm Hercules Mulligan. You're Lafayette right?" he says in a deep voice. It's adorable, but I have the smallest idea of what he said. 

"French, please," I reply. He nods and calls into the room.

"HAMILTON! HE SPEAKS FRENCH. GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE," he yells with the strength of a hurricane. Within a few seconds, a shorter man stands behind Hercules. He has messy hair and bags under his eyes. 

"Bonjour, je m'appelle Alexander Hamilton. Veuillez entrer," the shorter man says softly. This might not be so bad after all, knowing that someone around here speaks my native language. My only language in fact. Maybe tomorrow, I can get some books from the library on how to learn English. I give a small smile and walk into the room. (Hello, I'm Alexander Hamilton. Please come in.)

The room itself is the same colour as the walls outside. Two beds are on one side of the room, with a small bedside table in between. Across form that are two dressers. One has many pictures while the other is blank. There's a door on the left right next to the door, which is probably a bathroom. On the right of the door is a smaller room with a small refrigerator, sink, oven, and microwave. Now, I don't know if this is what a normal college dorm looks like, but the room is very different from the large house I grew up in. 

A third man sits on a bed. He has curly hair as a base, and then the messiness is like he didn't bother to comb it this morning. A sea of freckles lies scattered across his face. His gaze is locked in a book. 

"C'est John Laurens. C'est mon petit copain," Alexander says. (That's John Laurens. He's my boyfriend.) Upon hearing Alex's voice, John looks up and walks over to me.

"Hi!" he says, exetending a hand. Gently, I shake it. Slowly, I walk over to the other bed and place my bag down on it. All three men gather behind me.

"That's all you brought?" Hercules says. I turn around and tilt me head. Alexander translates for me. I nod my head in silence. They talk softly to each other, leaving me to wonder what's going on. There's not much to look at, and I don't want to be weird at look at any of the pictures on the dresser.

After a minute, they turn back to me. "Nous avons décidé de vous procurer des vêtements et de vous emmener dîner!" Alexander says. (We have decided to get you some clothes, and then take you out for dinner!) Hercules grabs my hand, and pulls me out the door. His hand is warm against mine. Despite myself, I blush at the sudden contact. They lead me into a car and speed me away. What have I gotten myself into?