Zero Two Three One | John Laurens X Reader [Hamilton]

LXXIX: Eleven Photos of Affection

❝Part of me aches at the thought of her being so close yet so untouchable.❞
—Nicholas Sparks

I woke from my dream of the beach, my body on fire from panic. I turned to Alexander, naturally. I told him not of the dream, but of my fears.

"Everything is going to be okay, (Y/N). Trust me."

"But what if it's not, Alexander? What if nothing is okay? What if it all goes to hell and it's my fault?"

"Then I'll make it okay. I'll make everything alright for you."

That's what Alexander said. And it was okay... for a while. 

It was a faster trial than was expected. James pled guilty to the shock of everyone. He got fined an enormous amount of money and is on a long probation... Unfortunately, he got no jail time (it pays being rich). But everything was swaying on our side for a moment.

A bunch of celebrities came out to condemn James and support me and Alexander. Swarms of fans started burning their Monroe Merch. Top movie directors made vows to never cast James in one of their movies ever again. It's safe to say James' acting career is over and his celebrity status has been revoked.

Alexander made the coy suggestion that we finally took over the social sphere.

Then it came crashing down a moment later.

Rumors. Dirty fucking rumors.

Word started circling that Alexander isn't my brother — that I'm not his sister. I wonder who the fuck could've let that secret out, hmm...

It's getting worse. Naturally, we turned to Reynolds for help.

September 16, 2060.

"Never underestimate the investigative ability of fifteen-year-old girls on Instagram and Twitter," Reynolds shook his head.

"I don't understand," Alexander hisses. "They're pulling out possible evidence from the most ridiculous things!"

"The most ridiculous things can be very telling, Alexander," Reynolds says.

"And how are we supposed to fix this? When they find out the truth-"

"If they find out the truth," Reynolds cuts Alexander off, raising a finger and sitting up straighter. "Only if."

I glance between Reynolds and Alexander, searching for any sign that they're acting unnaturally because, well, Alexander is kind of fucking Reynolds' wife. They both know it. I don't know if it's still going on, but...

"(Y/N)."

I jump at the sound of my voice and fixate my attention back at Reynolds. "Yes?"

"You look rather pale. Are you sure you're alright? How is your recovery going?"

I wave my hand. "Oh, I'm fine. My headaches stopped a week ago."

Reynolds offers me a grin. "That's good. And your hand?"

I shake my left hand which is ensnared by a thin, stiff bandage. "It's fine. In another two weeks, it should be completely fine."

"That's good. So are you ready to have this conversation about what is next to come, or should we postpone it to another day."

"No, by all means, let's continue with the meeting." I brush a strand of hair behind my ear. "Although, I would like to know what evidence these online sleuths are using to prove Alexander and I aren't related."