The Press (Whamilton)

Ch. 4

Dinner is at 6:30.

Everybody had to be at the restaurant at 6:00.

Hamilton woke up at two in the afternoon, his phone dead and his heart racing.

"Of course I oversleep on the day where I'm supposed to be everywhere!" Alex cried as he raced around to get dressed. He was thankful that he had picked out an outfit the night before. He was wearing a button up ivy green shirt, black pants, a black jacket, and (just to fuck with the press on what his sexuality was) a small gay pride pin. Alex quickly grabbed his charger, his phone, and his wallet. He went to the beat up PT Cruiser, got into the front, and vroomed to Eliza's house.

"So you forgot to charge your phone," John sighed before clicking his tongue, "See, this is why you need more sleep and less coffee." Alex didn't even bother looking for John, he knew he was in the passenger seat with his legs kicked up onto the dashboard. "Where you heading?" John giggled. Hamilton huffed and turned a sharp corner.

He replied, "Eliza's house. She's doing my makeup." John was silent for a moment. Imagining Alexander in makeup all cute like that made him blush. He saw that the usual ribbon was absent from Hamilton's hair and he frowned.

"Where's your-"

"Don't worry, I have it in my pocket. I just want Eliza to braid my hair first and then I'll put it in. Come on, Laurens, did you really think I forgot?"

John sighed and looked out the window. He joked, "Sue me, I get nervous. I'm always nervous that you'll forget me. Because once you forget me... I'm gone. I have no other reason to stay on Earth." Hamilton looked over at John. John's freckles littered his face like sprinkles on ice cream. It was always so cute and perfect and adorable. He used to play connect the dots when they were alone and away from war. They would stay down in one of the empty bunker's, drinking water and cuddling as much as they could without being uncomfortable. Their bodies had been covered with a layer of sweat. God, it was unbearable down there. But they were alone at least.

Alex messed with the dog tags around John's neck. They were shiny, freshly polished just last night. A battle was coming up, and John wanted them to look perfect when he went onto the field. Alexander sighed and muttered, "Why did you join the war? You always say you hate how America is turning out, so why fight for it?" John was silent, playing with locks of Alexander's hair. They were sitting side by side, leaning against the wall.

"Well," John replied, "When we win the war and go home, I want our kids to be able to know that we didn't lose and that we didn't give up. This country has awful people in it. Awful ideas in it. Racism, sexism, abuse, orphans... homophobia, transphobia... But... I'm fighting for freedom. Freedom of love. Freedom of race. Freedom of truth. Freedom of identification. In a hundred years when I'm dead and gone, I want our kids to be asked by their teacher, what's the 28th amendment? And I want them to say the freedom of love, race, freedom, and truth."

Alex was crying a little, tears welling in his eyes. He scooted closer to John, hugging him tightly. John and Alex were shirtless, trying to bear with the hot stuffiness of the bunker. Their chests were sticky and gross from the sweat, but they still held each other.

John whispered in his ear, "I can't wait for your hair to grow out again." Alex laughed a little and smiled. Carefully, Laurens reached back to his own hair, which was tied back into a messy bun. He pulled something out of his hair, and it all fell to his shoulders with it's usual bounce.

"I want you to have this so you can remember me." John whispered, holding it up. "I got it when-"

"ALEX YOU'RE ZONING OUT AGAIN!" John screamed, managing to possess Alex for a moment, swerve the wheel, and pull over. Alex snapped back into reality, taking control of his own body. His heart was racing as cars sped by and honked at Hamilton in anger. There were tears in his eyes. John stared at him, holding his hand and starting to tear up too. He saw a glimpse of it, the memory Hamilton was thinking about.

Hamilton shivered from the sudden cold in the car, but didn't pull away from the ghost's touch. He mumbled, "They tell me move on. They tell me you're dead and gone and I need a new love life. They tell me it was so long ago." John began to cry harder, sobbing into the thin air of the car. Alex continued, "But how can I forget somebody so close... so passionate... so driven... so loving." John squeezed his hand tighter, and Alex gently squeezed back before pulling away and putting his hands back on the wheel.

Laurens leaned his head on the window, crying and sobbing with agony. "Alex... Alex it's so cold..."

Hamilton gripped the steering wheel and turned the key, almost feeling a little better with the way the car sputtered back to life. "I know," he whispered, "I swear if I could bring you back I would." Laurens nodded a little.

As Alex began driving to Eliza's once more, he sobbed when John's figure faded from his view, and he knew that the man had left once more.