Raise a Glass to Freedom

My dearest, Alexander

Modern college AU

Alex's POV
The door to Lafayette's dorm opened on the second knock. "Ah mon ami, come in," he said, opening the door. I stepped into the apartment. Hercules sat on the couch watching TV with a bowl of popcorn beside him. Lafayette seemed to be in the process of baking something in the kitchen. A large baguette sat on the counter.

"Alex!" Hercules said, noticing me. "Come watch TV! He waved the popcorn in my direction. I flopped down on the couch next to him. "Popcorn?" Hercules pushed the bowl of popcorn towards me. As I sat up to take a handful, the bowl tilted over and spilled onto the floor. Lafayette rolled his eyes. As I knelt down on the floor, I couldn't help but notice how dirty and dusty the floor was.

"Ew!" I said, carrying handfuls of popcorn to the compost, "Don't you guys ever vacuum?" "No," replied Hercules, not taking his eyes off the TV. I knelt down next to the sofa and ran my finger along the ground. It left a dark smudge on my hand. "You know what? I'm gonna vacuum the apartment," I said. Lafayette giggled, "Good luck with that."

I pulled their ancient vacuum cleaner out of the closet and attempted to get it to work. When it finally started, it made a sound like a duck with a bad cold throwing a bag of cats against a brick wall. Pleasant.

I cleaned the living room first, annoying Hercules, who turned up the TV to the highest volume to drown out the sound of the vacuum. I swear though, the floor looked so much lighter where I had cleaned. The vacuum started to couch and sputter. I kicked it and it started again.

The afternoon passed with Lafayette and Hercules baking and watching TV and I cleaned their dorm. Once I had cleaned every room but John's, I paused and unplugged the vacuum. I should probably clean his room too but he just doesn't usually leave the door to his room wide open like Lafayette and Hercules do. From what I've seen of his room, he has drawings and poetry that he's done on his walls that he won't show to anyone, even me. Still, I should probably clean and, honestly, I was a little curious about what he would have in his room. I opened his door.

The room was dimly it, illuminated only by a small lamp on his bedside table. His bed had a knitted sunflower blanket. There were quotes painted on his walls in neat cursive. A gay pride flag was on the wall above his desk. Sketches, paintings, and poems that he had made covered most of the walls. The pillows on his bed were covered in prints of turtles. I think he made them himself. His desk was cluttered with art supplies and papers with words and sketches scribbled over. A cardboard box full of papers sat on his desk. It looked like he had intended to put it back somewhere but hadn't gotten around to it. Leaving the vacuum cleaner, I walked over to the box and looked inside. I shouldn't be looking through this, this is his private stuff, I thought. But then I saw my name scrawled on a sheet of paper in John's neat, tidy handwriting. I picked up a loose sheet of paper from the box and began to read.

Dear diary. God, that sounds ridiculous. But I guess there's nobody else I'm writing this to so I might as well sound like a teenage girl. Anyway, today had been a shit day. I feel weird saying that, like I should look on the bright side and sugar coat everything. But today my self confidence is at level zero. It's like my own mind has been yelling at me all day. I can't help but hate everything I do. Say something to someone? You sound ridiculous. Want to hang out with a friend? Don't even text them, they hate you. Even worse is when I'm trying to make art and all I want to do is destroy everything I make. Somehow the poems I write, the sketches I draw are terrible, awful things simply because they're mine. I sound ridiculous. Anyway, I'm probably going to draw something trying to show how I feel, hate it, and then rip it into pieces.

Yay.

~John Laurens

I put the letter back in the box. I had no idea John felt like that. I suppose stuff like that can be really invisible. You put on a happy face and say that you're doing good today. You smile and look away just long enough to wipe the tears from your eyes. I took a deep breath, setting a mental reminder to try and talk to John about this kind of stuff another time. I knew I really shouldn't be snooping like this but now I had read one letter there was no stopping me.

Dear diary. Shit. Shit. Shit. I'm catching feelings for Alex.

I blushed deeply. This is too good to be true. I continued reading.

There, I said it. I think Alex is really really hot and everything sucks right now. There are those moments, the ones when you realize you're falling for someone and some feel awful. Like- we were sitting on the couch playing Mario Cart a few days ago and suddenly I really noticed the way his hair fell over his face, the curvature of his lips, the angle of his nose. And I felt awful because all of a sudden I couldn't tell him everything about me, suddenly I had a secret to keep from him. Sometimes I'm really done with everything- done with the game of crushes, done with the awkwardness of romance, done with trying to pretend I'm keeping it all together. I honestly don't even care that Alex probably doesn't want me, he deserves something better than me.

I didn't get to read the rest of the letter because it was at that moment that John walked into his room. I hadn't heard him come into the dorm. He set down his backpack, not having noticed me yet. He looked up and saw me standing at his desk, holding the letters. "No! I- no- please- I never meant!" He ran towards me, grabbing the letter. He scanned the page, blushing deeply when he read what it said. "I- I just like you as a friend- this was for- it was for this assignment thing..." Tears began to well in his eyes. "Wait," I said, "I... I like you too." He looked into my eyes. I placed my hand under his chin, gently tilting his head up. I leaned into him and pressed my lips into his. John seemed surprised at first but then melted into it, closing his eyes. When I finally pulled away, I looked into his tear filled, beautiful eyes. "You don't have to do this," he whispered, "You don't have to pretend to want me." "No," I said, "I want you. Really." There was a pause, which was only broken by John leaning into for another kiss.

Thanks for reading! If you want to see my art for Dear Evan Hansen and Hamilton, follow my art account on Instagram: @angelicaaa.eliza.and.peggy

And please please please request plots, I have a few ideas (hint: Henry Laurens, hint: fluffy dates at the beach, hint: more Peggy + Maria) but I've got a little writers block. Anyway...

Thanks!

~Cather