Camp for the Emotionally (Un)Stable || Lams

Part Two: Summer Of Senior Year

|Third Person|

Alexander Hamilton's never really had a home. Sure, he'd been tossed from foster parent to foster parent, but he hasn't felt at home since he was in the Caribbean. He missed that place, as much as he'd hate to admit it, considering what his living conditions were like. Even now though, he'd give anything to go back to that place. Away from foster systems and all the gloomy stuff that came with them.

Alex glares at his newest "room" now. He'd only been there a mere two days and already hated it. He wouldn't stay more than a couple weeks anyway. That's just how these things go.

Still though, a group home? That was a new low for Alex's case worker. He's been to them before, but never this bad. There had to be at least twenty other boys here. This also meant that all the rooms were packed full, all the bunk-beds filled up. So Alex was sent into the closet-like room downstairs- the laundry room.

His lumpy mattress was smushed up against the wall, all his belongings down at the foot of the bed. The backdoor was right next to him as well, making for a freezing room at night- which his thin blanket did little to help. And, to make matters worse he was supposed to be getting another kid to share this impossibly small space with in a couple days. Could you believe that?

So Alex did what Alex knew best in these sorts of situations. He picked his bag up and dug around for a notebook. He'd be damned if he was going to suffer alone. 

Dear Miss Margarita Schuyler,

He scribbled onto the page all his sob story about this new home. He didn't mention anything else aside from his own troubles for fear it would bring too much of the ugly past up. He didn't want to know about his old cabin-mate, or if Angelica stayed together with her summer fling of a boyfriend, or even if Eliza was happy. If he asked those things it all became too real. In his head those three months were blissful. They were perfect. He didn't want to ruin them with the ugly reality he knew was there.

So, he sealed up his letter, walked down to the post office and sent it without a return address. He didn't want to know if his letters were even going somewhere. For all he knew he had the wrong address and they were just sitting there with no place to go. He didn't mind that thought as much as he should. He guessed that's what he was doing anyway without leaving a return address, writing to no one.

===

John Laurens was a hot mess to be quite frank. He'd just barely passed the twelfth grade with no chance at getting into college- not that he could ever afford it anyway. His mother had been bouncing from job to job ever since he got back from camp, trying to make ends meet.

Of course John tired to help. He'd gotten a job at a burger joint downtown in the first couple months of school. After a while, they had to let him go. All he was doing anymore was slumping around and mumbling to customers. It was bad for business. And so started the ditch of depression he'd been condemned to all of his senior year. He missed more school than he actually attended, sometimes from doctor's appointments, others from the simple lack of motivation to even open his eyes.

The only people John ever talked to anymore was Peggy. That too was for one reason only, she was getting letters. Letters from the love of John's life- the bane of his exisitence. That was truly the only reason he didn't wake up and try to off himself every morning.

Peggy kept John updated on what Alex was doing, where Alex was going. First it was on the coast in a shack of a house with a lonely married couple, then down south to a place with five other kids, and so on. It almost seemed like an adventure movie. Like Alex was Indiana Jones and John was his husband who stayed home and prayed for him to come home safely.

When Peggy called John always answered.

"Hey, John!" Peggy cheered as always. Trying to keep his spirits up.

John sat in his bed, leaning against the headboard. "Hi, Pegs. Any word from him?"

"Yeah, actually a letter just came. Want me to read it?"

"Sure."

"Dear Miss Margarita Schuyler, I've been sent to a brand new home! Could you believe it? I've got the whole ten square feet of the laundry room all to myself. They're awfully thoughtful here, don't you think? Too bad I have to share with another boy in a couple days.

"Anyway, I send my best, Alex."

John snorts. He wished he could be on the receiving end of Alex's sarcastic letters. All he was given from him was a Skype name, and every time he tried it nothing came up. He was left with only Peggy's letter to keep his memory of the quiet boy with long sleeves alive. But, God...John missed him every single day. And it hurt. It hurt so much it made him want to just lay in his bed all day. And sometimes, that's what he did.

===

Peggy knew how much John hurt. That's why she felt so bad for waiting this long to tell him about the letter that came nearly a week ago. She just hated seeing him get even more sad after hearing from him. She didn't like that Alex only ever reached out to her, and that he never mentioned anything about last summer or even anything about Peggy. It was like he was pretending it never happened. That broke her heart over all else. God only knows what would happen to John if he just up and forgot about him.

So that's why when Peggy got another letter a couple days after the first she decided not to tell him. She didn't want to get his hopes up.

Hey Pegs.

I'm cutting off all my hair. I hope if I see you again I don't look too different.

I'm leaving a return address, and no it's not a mistake. I was wondering if you could give me John's address, an Email, something.

Love, Alex.

Here we go...
<3