Hamilton|First Person
My first day is chalked full of classes. I wake up at seven in the morning to see the bed next to me now has a couple bags on it rather than Lafayette. I sit up, rubbing my eyes, then I spot my phone on the desk opposite me. I push myself from the warmth of my sheets, walking over to the desk and pressing the home button to display the lock screen. It currently shows a photo of me from highschool when I graduated. My old best friend, Eliza stands next to me, grinning. She was my only friend through school, though she had no shortages of people that wanted to be friends with her, she stuck with me for some reason though. Well, until she met her new best friend, Thomas.
Thomas is a total jerk, but I don't say anything. I'll probably never see Eliza again anyway. I sigh and make a mental note to change the picture. Then, I go to my closet and pick out a simple outfit of a hoodie and jeans. I leave on the shirt I slept in and just roll on deodorant and tie my hair back. I look in the mirror hanging beside the door, deeming my appearance ok before I walk down to the bathroom to brush my teeth.
When I come back to the room, there's a another guy in the room. He's dressed smartly in a blazer and button up. He's standing right in front of my closet as he checks himself out in the mirror.
"Pardon me," I say, gesturing to the closet door behind him. He looks me over and steps out of the way without a word as I put my toiletries bag away in the small cupboard before turning back to him. "Alexander Hamilton." I offer, sticking out my hand. He looks at it for a long moment before speaking.
"Aaron Burr." He says, giving me a quick handshake and turning back to his suitcase to finish unpacking.
"Well..." I say, feeling a bit awkward and unwanted in his presence. "I'm headed off to class, but my friend and I are going to get lunch later if you'd like to join us?"
"I'll have to decline." He says without looking up. Jerk. I mutter a goodbye and head out the door, towards the building next door for my first class; History.
I ended up with two history courses, basic world history and communications history. I told myself it was good to be well rounded in my course of career, but the truth is I just really like history. I guess it couldn't hurt to know more about the world when you're planning to be a journalist. I carry my backpack over my shoulder to a large lecture hall that's bustling with people. I push my way through the crowds to the room I'm headed to. It's fairly sized, rows of elevated seats along one side of the room, a projector and two big chalk boards. I slump down into a seat in the very back, getting a good few empty seats around me. I can still hear the professor when he walks in, telling us all to quiet down.
Who this rushed, flustered teacher is? Why, it's none other than Professor John Laurens that Lafayette informed me about last night. He said that he was new, but he was already being oggled over and apparently he was "making eyes" at me in the coffee shop last night. I don't know if I believe him. I mean, sure he's really nice to look at and he has a charming smile as he starts his class, but he wouldn't look at me twice- other than to confirm that I'm Daniel Greene's cousin. That's all I tend to get recognized for anyway.
Professor Laurens scans the class before starting his lecture. His gaze lands on me for half a second and my face goes red, I start to fumble for my pen and notebook so I look more prepared, but by the time I get them out and ready, he's moved on. I breathe out, glancing around to make sure no one saw me. I sigh when I think no one did.
The rest of the class is a mix of that. He looks at me and my mouth goes dry, then he looks away and I feel like I can breathe normally again. The only problem is that he keeps looking at me. Damn that little half smile and the way he leans against his desk while he addresses the class all carefree like. He never makes me answer questions though, which I'm grateful for. I'm not the type to raise my hand in class. I just do my work and shut up and pass the class- usually with flying colors, not to brag or anything.
He assigns us a chapter of the textbook to read and write an essay about, and by the end of the day I have nearly five pages written and I'm nowhere near done. I hope he doesn't have a limit, I don't want it to be too long I just really like to write.
I have the assignment done by the time Aaron comes back into the room that night. I just slip out and go down the hall for a shower. When I get back he's fast asleep so I go hang out in the longue with Lafayette while he waits for Samuel to give him the all clear to go back into their room. It's not until midnight that he does though, so that's when I turn in for bed.
When I fall asleep though, I dream of sitting back in the history lecture hall. This time though, my roommate teaches the class and he barks bossily to his students until the guy next to me calls him a jerk. I look over as I'm laughing, but see Professor Laurens and I can't seem to speak, my mouth is full of sand. When I wake up, I'm stumbling to the bathroom for a glass of water. I thankfully gulp it down and hope that I can sleep through the night peacefully now.
Thank you to the legit two people reading this. I am immensely enjoying writing this and am just a little too obsessed with Hamilton. I can't help it, they're all cinnamon rolls (^.^)
<3
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Quietly Noticed || Lams
Fanfiction*Completed History professor, John Laurens is teaching his first year since being transfered from South Carolina. "King's College" is where he works now, much different than the small town he used to live in. He takes a liking to quite a few of the...
