Nothing /// Mullette Asylum Fic

4 - Frenchie Has Flashbacks™

Hercules
Hercules sauntered into the kitchen, surprised to see Lafayette sitting there, talking to Thomas rapidly in French. Jefferson laughed and said something to make Lafayette blush and slap his arm.
"Heyyy", Hercules sang, sliding in next to Lafayette. "How's everyone's favorite baguette?"
"Fine", Lafayette muttered, looking at his shoes.
Thomas laughed and whispered "N'oubliez pas de porter une protection." Jefferson winked then walked over to James.
Hercules had no idea what it meant but it made Lafayette angrily curse at Thomas under his breath.

"Have you ever noticed how much you look like Thomas though?" Hercules said suddenly.
"Yeah", Lafayette said bluntly.
"Take your hair down", Hercules demanded.
Lafayette went red and muttered something, but reached up and pulled his hair-tie out.
Hercules' jaw dropped.

The whole room went silent.
"You know who else you look like?" Alex chimed in suddenly. "That French war hero. What was his name..?"
"Daveed Diggs?" John guessed.
"That's the one!" Alex said excitedly.
"Wait, I thought Daveed Diggs was the third US president..." Thomas questioned.
This sparked a debate over the identity of Diggs.
Eliza managed to successfully sneak away from the argument.

Lafayette gave the shouting match a wary regard.
Hercules grabbed his wrist and led him out of the kitchen before they were spotted.
"You know", Lafayette began smugly. "You and James both kind of look like Okier-"
"I've heard that before, Frenchie", Hercules warned. "And I know."
"Ever heard of Miranda the Musical?" Lafayette asked a moment later.
Hercules chuckled. "Duh. Who hasn't?"

A/N: ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

They ran into Thomas and James as they walked.
"Man, tie that up, this shit's creepy..." Thomas pleaded, gesturing to Lafayette's hair.
Lafayette rolled his eyes but reluctantly tied his hair up, flashing Hercules a small grin when he was done.
Holy Hansen, he's hot.

Lafayette
Lafayette lay alone in his room. He curled up tighter into a ball as his stomach growled, feeling like it was his very soul eating away at him. His mind flickered back to his parents', the only people who had ever loved him, deaths. He was seven when it happened.

The doorbell rang and Lafayette scurried to answer it. "Bonjour", he said brightly.

A/N: just imagine them speaking in French, too lazy to write the
translations

The man at the door wore a police uniform and a funny hat. "Gilbert du Motier? Is that you?" the man asked.
Lafayette nodded eagerly, a bright smile adorning his face.
The officer crouched down to be level with him. "I'm sorry kid, but your parents were killed in a car collision."

Lafayette didn't fully understand what the man had said. What did 'killed' mean? Where were his parents? He was getting hungry and they hadn't come back to make him dinner yet.
He didn't realize he was crying until the officer awkwardly patted him on the head and told him he was going to live with his aunt and uncle.

Over the course of the next year, Lafayette was in utmost denial about his parents' deaths. He acted like they were still alive, talking to them happily whilst his aunt and cousins looked on sadly.

His uncle was a sour man, Lafayette never understood how someone as nice as his aunt had ended up with a man like that. Lafayette's uncle ended up getting into a massive blowout fight with his wife over how Lafayette should 'grow up' and 'be a man'.
Lafayette's aunt came back with the strong retaliation of "He's eight years old for Christ's sake! He's a child!"
His uncle hit her then grabbed his stuff and left.

That night, Lafayette had cried and went to find his aunt, seeking comfort. He clung onto her dress, curled up against her while she gently rocked him. The bruise on her face was never discussed, even when it faded.

His aunt fell ill when Lafayette turned 11. He visited her on her deathbed.
"My little Laffy", she whispered. "You have grown so much into such a handsome boy."
Lafayette smiles sadly. "Please auntie. You were my mother for all those years."
His aunt chuckled wistfully. "And those years were spent with much happiness and joy. But I have one request for you." She beckoned to him and he bent down so she could whisper into his ear. "Follow your dreams of going to America. You can be a new man. Find George Washington. He will help you..."
Lafayette nodded, tears silently running down his face as he kissed his aunt on the cheek for the last time.

He made his way to America. How an 11 year old got out of the country was beyond anyone. George took him in and treated him like his own son. But Lafayette stopped eating. He smiled and laughed and acted like a bubbly, happy Frenchman, but in reality it was all a mask.
George noticed him getting thinner, and when his wife Martha died, he moved them both into the hospital he worked at, fondly nicknamed 'The Asylum'.

There Lafayette met John Adams, George King and Samuel Seabury. Over time, they left, and Lafayette met John Laurens and the others.
He was never happy. The only way to feel anything but sad was to starve himself, letting the emptiness overcome him and leave him feeling numb. It was like a drug he couldn't stop taking.

So many had died because of him; his parents because he had asked them to get him a treat from the bakery, his aunt because he forced her to divorce with her husband and Martha Washington, because Lafayette had fallen ill and it had passed onto her.

Lafayette awoke with a jolt, angrily wiping away the tears that stained his face. Like when he was 8, he needed comfort. And the best source of that was none other than Hercules Mulligan.

Leaving his room, he walked across the hall to Hercules' and knocked rather forcefully on the steel. No reply. He knocked harder and harder still, finding himself hammering at the door. Nothing.
He curled up into a hyperventilating ball, tears dripping down his cheeks and cursing himself for being so weak. Nobody else heard him. Nobody came running. He called for help.

But nobody came.