Quietly Noticed || Lams

Just stay alive

Laurens|First Person

I've been a mess since the moment I left that first voicemail for Alex to put it quite simply. I called him too many times after that, all of them going straight to voicemail over and over again.

Hey, it's Alex. Leave a message.

That's the only thing I hear from him for five days straight. Just that artificial, customer service voice that sounds nothing like him. I can barely remember what half of my messages to him said, most of them were sent while I was wallowing in sadness and self pity in the early hours of the morning. I was having trouble sleeping recently anyway, most of the time I buy a bottle of some sort of liquor and down it all within an hour. It's a little easier that way, I black out most of the time anyway.

It's the day after Christmas now, the day Alex was supposed to have me pick him up so we could spend the rest of break together. We we're supposed to be drinking hot chocolate and watching old Christmas movies right now. Instead I get a lonely apartment and a beer while I watch TV.

Even Lafayette and Hercules refuse to talk to me now. I saw Hercules only once, the day after Alexander left. He had glared at me and continued walking without a word. That hurt more than him yelling at me in the middle of campus. At least then I could clearly see that was as far as he would go, but with him not even breathing something rude when I walk by makes me anxious that he'll do something drastic.

So I sit on my couch with my greasy hair and unwashed body, lacking all energy to get up and turn on the shower. I'm sure I reek, though it's not like there's anyone around to complain.

The emptiness in my apartment feels different than it has before though. I've lived alone since I was eighteen, so I should be used to the way the room is completely silent when you close your eyes to fall asleep, or the way the other side of my bed is cold when I wake up. Though for some reason I feel like I'm missing something when I'm clutching my pillow when I wake up.

I guess it's harder to accept being lonely when you know don't what you're missing out on.

Around one on another one of my lonely, boring days I get a phone call. I jump at the sound, not used to it after days of silence, save for the laughter of cheesy sitcoms of course. I ignore the ringing the first time it sounds, thinking it's Jasmine or possibly Lafayette- both of which I'd rather not talk to in my current state of a slight buzz and mopey thoughts. It goes off again though, so I give in and pick up my phone from the coffee table. My heart leaps with joy when I read the name, something I suck back as I remind myself that this could very well be a terrible phone call waiting for me. I can't really help it though, I answer because I'm dying just to hear him say something, even if it's accusing and hateful.

"Hello?" I tone back the happiness he can no doubt sense in the one word.

"John, uh, hi." I grin without consent at his voice that sounds like him, not like the sickeningly sweet tone of his voicemail. "I listened to your voicemails."

My chest tightens as I prepare for the worst. He can't possibly be calling for anything good if he's bringing up voicemails. I want to put on a strong front and tell him that I'm fine, that I've moved on. I want him to move on and not worry about me either, though it's hard to get anything of this out with my throat closing up. "Oh," is the only syllable I can choke out.

"Do you, uh- are you home?" He rushes his words out, seeming a little nervous.

"Yeah."

"Could I come over maybe?" My heart speeds up. He wants to come over. I glance around at the mess I call my apartment.

"Um, sure. How about in a half hour?"

"Ok."

I bite my lip, wondering if I'll have a chance to get him back. I sounds cliche, but I miss him so much it hurts. We say goodbye and I immediately go to turn off the TV and tossing the piles of wrappers into my trash can. I get into the shower, unable to push away the image of Alex when he was in here with me, his hair matted to his head as water rolled down off his shoulders.

I feel a sense of longing as I remember a time I could freely hold him and play with his hair. When he was mine.

I get out after washing my hair and body, feeling a little better once I'm clean. I have about five minutes until he's supposed to be here, but I'm too anxiety ridden to sit still and wait. I get up and pace, stopping at my desk more than once to straighten a stack of papers. About eight minutes after he's supposed to be here I end up by the window, staring out to the parking lot while I twist my fingers around my hair.

Fifteen minutes later and he still hasn't shown up. I pace again, gnawing on my cheek as I think up worst case scenarios that include everything from him deciding he hates me, to him getting murdered on his way over. No doubt he took a taxi or the subway or something sketchy like that.

I hold my breath and count to ten a couple of times as I start to draw blood in my mouth from chewing so intently on the skin. I'm about to give up and pull out another bottle of whiskey and sink back into my self deprecating state, when my phone starts to ring a second time in that day.

"Hello?" I say into the receiver, not bothering to check the name.

"John Laurens?" A professional voice asks.

"That's me." I say, standing to pace again.

"My name is Morgan Jamison, I'm calling on behalf of an Alexander Hamilton. Can you tell me your relation to this man?"

"Uh I'm his..." his what? Sort of boyfriend? Professor? "I'm his friend."

There's some murmuring on the other line before Morgan comes back on the line. "You'll have to do for now. Could you come down to New York Prsbytrian Hospital? You were the last person Alexander contacted and we need someone to come down and clear up a couple of details about him."

"Yeah," I say, my heart speeding up as I'm already pulling on a jacket and my shoes and headed out to my car.

Hospital. My thoughts go back to Alexander getting murdered and I nearly have an full on panic attack as I drive a little too quickly toward the hospital. My only coherent thought that can form as I move closer to him is please don't be dead.  

He's probably not dead...
Probably.
<3