Battlefield (A Lams story)

chapter 12

"I think that's enough," Adriene said, taking a step back to admire his beautiful work. The tear stained face, the cut-up flesh that dripped blood the most satisfying red, and the way Hamilton shook uncontrollably. "Get him out of here," Adriene hissed.

....

The guards, almost twice the size of Hamilton himself, threw the bloody, shaking man into the dirt covered cell.

"John?" Hamilton called weakly into the cell, limping into a deeper corner. "Johnny?" he called again, a little louder because his voice was just adjusting from screaming. He walked a little farther until he came across a red painted wall.

Wait, red? Hamilton questioned, doing a double take.

"John?" He yelled hoarsely, immediately going into a coughing fit afterward. He quickly scanned the room until his eyes landed on a ball in the corner. Hamilton cocked an eyebrow and walked over to the blond-headed ball. Hamilton walked closer, squatted down to its level, and moved the greasy, knotted hair away from its face. He obviously knew it was Laurens, but what he didn't know was the tear stained face that lay beneath his hair. Hamilton grimaced at the sight, it was obvious that his lover had cried himself to sleep and judging by the wall, would need medical attention. Speaking of the wall, Hamilton grazed his hands against the wall, parts of it still wet which left some residue on his already bloody hands, not like it made a difference.

Hamilton bit his lips and gingerly took Laurens limp hand into his own and examined them carefully, wincing at both the sight and the burn running up his arm from the actual burns left on his arms. Hamilton gently rubbed his finger pad on the busted and bloody skin, retracting when he saw Laurens start to stir.

"Little do you know how I'm breaking while you fall asleep," Hamilton sang, his voice a little hoarse at first but turning as sweet and smooth as honey glazed iced tea.

Alex could feel the light, stray tears run down his face, burning his cuts when they crossed paths, but he didn't care and instead sighed and leaned against the wall behind him, still twirling the blond and bloody hair between his fingers.

"Little do you know I'm still haunted by the memories," Hamilton sang as Laurens opened his eyes and looked at him, smiling, sending a knowing look. Both men had the same look of acknowledgement. This was their song. The one they would dance and sing together.

For Hamilton though, the lyrics meant different things. The word 'hurricane' was ringing in his head as the memories, all too vivid, came flooding back. The sight of the pouring rain filtering your view. The sound of the howling wind serving as a futile attempt to mask the pleas for help. The smell of blood and saltwater filling the air. The way his brother's desperate eyes got swept under the waves. He just couldn't seem to die.

"Little do you know I'm trying to pick myself up piece by piece,".

Both him and Laurens shared a glance to sadness and understanding.

Laurens had been there almost every step of the way. He had seen the breakdowns, the sorrow in his eyes, the old photos. He had even seen Hamilton, the non-stop loudmouth, become quiet and self-reserved with a defeated look on his face. Hamilton always appreciated how he was there no matter how many times he had snapped at the taller and screamed at him to leave. Of course, they'd have their fallouts, some even lasting for weeks, but for the most part, Laurens was patient. He would listen to all the rants, self-hate, and thoughts Hamilton had to offer. Hamilton was grateful for him and thanked god every day for the angel he had sent down.

"Little do you know I need a little more time,".

That was true, but only sometimes. Other times, all they wanted to do was fantasize about what would their life be like if they were married. Time, what a funny thing. One could be granted with all the time in the world and not do anything with it, whereas others could only be granted a few months and do everything all at once, finishing up their bucket list. Time could be measure in milliseconds, seconds, minutes, hours, days, etc. It all depended on how much there was. Time, what everyone wants, but only a select few get the honor of experiencing.