Broken- And Fixed Again- (A Jamilton Fanfic)

Chapter 36: The Rainbow After The Hurricane

January 11th, 2023

Look.

Gaze upon the gentle and quiet lake, where a single crane rests drearily in the water. Gaze upon the still trees that line the curve of the riverbanks. Gaze upon the bench that rests in between two of the trees, overlooking the gentle stillness of the water. Gaze upon the sun as it slowly makes it way down past the oranges and pinks and purples of the dusk sky.

Gaze upon the stars, though barely visible, as they glimmer and gleam.

Look closer.

There, over the hilltop. Two men pick their way down the gravel path, hand in hand. They walk without a care in the world, they walk as if there is nothing that could ever touch them, as if they are surrounded in a bubble made purely by the presence of one another.

They are at peace. They have fallen in only the best of ways, utterly entranced by what beauty they have created, sworn to each other for eternity. This is the home they have carved out of the debris of an unruly city and a broken world, and these are the memories they create.

Listen.

Listen to the water lapping against the banks of the water. Listen to the movement of the branches as the cold, yet calm winter breeze winds its way through them. Listen to the chirps of the birds and the chatter of the squirrels.

Listen closer.

If you focus, you can hear the two boys in conversation, though the intricacies of their meanings do not lie in the words they mutter but the tones behind them, the loving adoration with which both of them treat not only the subject but each other. They talk not to prove a point, not to be right, but simply to listen to one another.

"No," replies the taller of the two boys, one who had been broken, but had left that all behind in the distant past. The dress flutters around him as he strolls down the path, the wind tugging at the lace. Together, they walk, hand-in-hand."I'm sorry, Alexander. But you're wrong. We do not need a Harry Potter reboot, okay? It's not happening. I would rather shoot somebody."

"Oh, whatever," the other boy scoffs, one who had been damaged in his own way and healed just the same. "No need to be so dramatic, love. You don't have to watch it, you know?"

"Hey! You're asking me not to be dramatic? You've met me, right?"

"Fair enough," the other one laughs.

"I'm sorry, but it's not happening," the taller of the two returns, shaking his head with clear disdain.

"Okay, but think about all the things we missed out on!" the immigrant replies. "Wouldn't you like to have Hermione trap Rita Skeeter in a jar for half a year? Because I would!"

"Whatever," the first boy responds, rolling his eyes. But if you look, you can see the smile he can't fight back, even if he wanted to. "Anyway, bit more of an important question to ask you."

"Well fire away."

The first boy can't hide his laugh either, and the melody of joy pours out of his mouth so freely, and fills the air around them, making the other boy smile. "Anyway," he says, "What did you think of this year's gift? I mean, I know it wasn't fantastic or anything, but you seemed slightly disappointed."

"Oh? Did I?" the other boy responds, almost absentmindedly. He is overcome in nerves as soon as his partner says that, and he stiffens up slightly.

He has something planned.

Something that will change their lives forever.

Something that will throw the galaxy off of its orbit, that will rewrite all that has been jotted down so carelessly before. And it all hangs on a single question, a single question with enormous weight bearing down upon its tiny shoulders.