Trigger Warning: Domestic Abuse
Alex's POV
When I arrived home, I expected nothing more than an empty kitchen. I was ready, more than ready, to order a pizza or something and watch Netflix. I ought to have been prepared for more than that. I ought to have been prepared for roses.
Because when I opened the door to my apartment, that's what there was. Roses, maybe a million of them. No exaggeration. They flooded out into the hall. Countertops, furniture, every inch of floor covered in roses.
"Oh, goddamnit Jefferson." I muttered, pulling out my phone. Then I called the police.
Aaron's POV
"When you said a lot of roses, I didn't think you meant this many." I say to the man with the dark ponytail, who has introduced himself as Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton.
"Every time this happens there's more."
"This has happened more than once?" I ask.
"It's a monthly occasion." He says.
"Huh. Any reason why? Do you know who did it?" I ask.
"Thomas Jefferson." Alexander says, hopping up onto the counter to sit. There was certainly no hesitation.
"What makes you so sure?" I ask, pulling out my notepad and pen.
"Crazy ex-boyfriend. Never got over me, I guess, though I'm into a new guy now." He says. I notice the way he casually drops in the fact that he's gay. Puts emphasis on it, even, saying boyfriend and into a new guy where into someone else would have sufficed. I also notice the way his eyes sparkle in the dim light of his kitchen.
I also notice the fact that Thomas Jefferson is not over him. Which sucks for me, Thomas Jefferson's current boyfriend.
"Right." I say. "So you say that he floods your apartment with roses every month?"
"On our anniversary or something. It's never been this bad." He says, leaning back a bit. He takes off his blazer and- god help me- rolls up the sleeves on his collared shirt.
"Have you ever contacted him to stop?" I ask. He looks shocked and disgusted at the idea.
"Why would I want to go near him? Have his number in my phone?" He asks.
"I take it things didn't end well with him?" I ask.
He shrugs. "You could say that."
I bite the inside of my cheek. Statistics are screaming at me from the back of my head, and I ignore them. Thomas Jefferson is probably going to be screaming at me when I get home, and I will try to ignore him.
"Okay, then. Um, anything else I should know?" I ask.
"My number." He says, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards. I blush and step back a bit.
"Yeah, okay. Write it down for me, then?" I ask. He takes the notepad and pen from me and scrawls down his name and number.
"Thanks." He says, handing them back to me.
"Yeah. Uh, call you later." I say with a wave, before walking out the door.
I get to my car and scream with excitement. I call Thomas, who picks up on the first ring.
"Where are you?" He demands.
"Still working." I say. "This case is taking me longer than expected."
"Mhmm." He says. It's obvious he's not buying it. But since I'm not there in person, I edge a bit of passive-aggression into the conversation.
"This guy's apartment is full to the brim with roses. He says it's happened a few times before, but it gets worse each time. This was bad enough he felt like he needed to call the police, who needed to call a private consultant." I say, grinning. I hear him hesitate, even choke up a bit.
"That's odd." He says.
"More than odd. The guy says he thinks he knows who did it!" I chuckle.
"Yeah, that's super weird. Anyways, I'm picking up McDonald's for dinner. What do you want?"
"Aw, babe, you don't have to do that. I can cook for you!"
"Yeah, I don't want your gross ass food today. No offense." He says. And I thought that being on the phone would be harmless. Whatever, it's just his way of showing love. Being honest with me.
"Okay, then, just get me whatever. Love you, I gotta go though." I mumble. I hang up.
And I start crying. This fucking relationship is so hard to manage. It's like he's got me wrapped around his finger. Like I want so badly to escape, and yet he's the only place I feel safe. Like if I lost him I'd lose everything and gain the whole world.
I have to drive, though. I don't know why Thomas asks where I am, he always knows. We thought it'd be cute to have a Life360 circle together when we got together. He uses it to keep tabs on me- he just wants to make sure I'm not in trouble, though. Of course, I could call for someone if there was any real danger, but again, it's just his way of showing he cares.
He does care about me. See? Why would he always want to know where you were if he didn't? Is what my brain comes up with stop my crying. I needed to stop soon, Thomas doesn't need to know that I was upset. It'll make him feel bad, and I really don't want that for him. I love him.
So I pull into the driveway, and Thomas meets me. He greets me with a smile and a hug, clutching a McDonald's bag in his fist.
"Hi, baby." I say, attempting to sound loving.
"Hello darling, how was work?" He replies.
"Heh, it was just...work."
"How's that case going? With the rose guy?"
"Um, well, we haven't really had time to look at it. The best evidence we can probably find is if someone bought a large shipment of roses using a credit card in the area."
"Oh, cool." Thomas says. He seems enthusiastic enough. "Well, I got food! Let's go eat, yeah?"
"Yeah, sounds good!" I say.
So we eat. I clean up. Thomas goes to bed early. I tell him that I'll probably stay up a bit working on this case. He says that's okay. I sit down. I get out my phone. I text Hamilton.
A. Burr: Hey! It's the guy that you gave your number to earlier, what's up?
A. Ham: Oh, hey! Not much, staying at a friend's tonight while things get cleaned up. Got any leads yet? Aside from who I mentioned?
A. Burr: Eh, not really. Just got home.
A. Ham: Right, gotcha. Are you going anything tomorrow?
A. Burr:
YOU ARE READING
He Found Me
Fanfiction*CURRENTLY BEING REWRITTEN. I'm keeping the main plot, just changing some details and such so that it reads better.* It's a typical Friday evening. That is until Alexander walks into his apartment to find it flooded with thousands of roses. He knows...
