Wish Upon A Satellite | Jamilton

Chapter 7 (Alex's Pov)

What just happened? "Sweet Jesus," I hear Jefferson mumble, taking the pizza box from my hands. I blink as he places the box on the table. That was weird. I sit down next to the slouching Virginian, who already took a bite of a slice of pizza. I take a slice, strings of cheese stretching from the pie. We continued eating and watching the movie in awkward silence.

•~•

     I lay in the darkness of the bedroom, Jefferson's soft snores keeping me company. 12:34. It was already midnight. I sigh, sitting up from the bed. I eyes go wide, remembering the book that I never read. I go through the bag and find the book. Lin-Manuel Miranda by Ron Chernow was on printed in gold on the spine. I run my fingers on the indent of Miranda's signature on the hard-covered book. I've never had the chance to read this book.

     I tip-toed out the room into the living room, turning on the lamp that was next to the couch. I lay on the couch, turning the book to its first page. Flip, flip, flip. Soon I finish the book. A good book it was, but it was only 6:12. I blink, closing the book. "Stupid Miranda, just couldn't keep your thing in your pants?" I grumbled, sitting up. "Just couldn't say no."

     I get up and walk to the kitchen. "I wonder if he has bagels," I mumbled to myself, searching the Mac n cheese filled cabinets. Jeez did he like Mac n cheese. I groan, taking a box of the Mac. Might as well. I grab a small pot, milk, and butter. I began to boil the pasta, steam swirling out of the pot. Though I would never eat Mac n cheese for breakfast, it was the only thing I could find other than milk and butter. I finished cooking, the unnatural orange Mac n cheese steaming.

     "I smell Mac n cheese..." Jefferson grumbled, stumbling out of the room. "How?" I asked but only got a shrug as an answer. I place some of the food in two bowls, giving one to the groggy Virginian. He mumbled thanks before digging in. The room was filled with slight clinking. I nudge the pasta, not hungry. Then why'd I cooked in the first place? Why'd he leave? Why'd he kick me out? I thought we were happy...

     "Hamilton... you okay?" I looked up at the Virginian, worry laced in his eyes. "Yeah, I'm completely fine." He raised an eyebrow, "Are you sure? You're crying." I touch my cheek, feeling the familiar wet tears. "Yeah, I'm fine," I repeat, continuing to stare at the food. Completely fine. "You sure? We can talk about it."
"No, I don't want to talk about it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm fucking sure!" I yelled.
"I'm sorry... I just tried to help." He looked away, sniffing softly. Great I just made someone cry. I didn't want this to happen. I just want John back. Just want his embrace, his warm smile, and cute freckles. I thought we were doing great, I even thought of proposing. What an idiot I am. But I saw regret in his eyes. He longed for me, I know he did. Then why'd he leave?

     "Maybe he left for a different reason?" I heard Jefferson say. "Did I say that all out loud?" He nodded slowly. I cursed under my breath. I'm such an idiot.