I Need A Ride (A Lams Fanfiction)

36- Why?

36- Why?

Okay, seriously guys! Thank you so much. Also, I am starting a lot of stuff soon, so I may update less :-(

Just thought that I should give you guys a heads up......

You guys are going to hate me.....

Warning ⚠️ SELF HARM

DO NOT READ THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT TO. DO NOT. DO NOT. I REALISE THAT THIS IS A SENSITIVE SUBJECT, AND I DON'T WANT ANYBODY TO GET HURT. IF THERE IS EVEN A SMALL CHANCE OR ANYTHING LIKE THAT, DON'T READ IT!

Alex's POV

After John left that night, I cried. I cried, for I don't know how long. I wrote letters to him that I was never going to send.

Eventually, I wandered aimlessly into the kitchen. I saw the block where we kept our knives, and suddenly got an idea.

What if I did it?

I have no family, no friends, and John, the only person who cared about me just broke up with me.

I loved him.

I thought that he loved me.

I was wrong.

He didn't even look like he rejected it. It looked like he was just crossing something off of a checklist.

Emotionless.

I mean, who would miss me?

Nobody. That's who.

I pick up a knife, holding it up to my wrist, wondering. I move it and twirl it between my fingers.

What if I did it?

I hold the blade against the smooth area of my wrist and slide it across. The pain is a release. The thin line of blood is soothing to watch. It drips down my arm, and as I bring the knife to my wrist again, I hear a knock on the door.

I rinse the knife in the sink, thinking that it is probably just a prank. I pull my sleeve down over my wrist and walk to the door. Much to my surprise, I see Hercules.

"What are you doing here?" I ask quietly.

"Well, John wants you to know why he broke up with you."

"I don't want to talk to him. Or you. Or anybody."

"Just......He was nervous that you would do this. He wrote you a letter."

"Why should I give him the time of day?" I yell, "he broke it off with me, either not as much as a sorry. I was just a game for him. 'I'm going to get the kid who gave me a ride.' He said that he loved me Herc!"

"He did," Herc says quietly.

"What?"

"You heard me." He is louder this time, "he loves you. He loved you since he met you. I saw the light in his eyes that I had never seen before, and I have known him since high school. Just read the letter."

He thrusts a few pieces of notebook paper at me and walks away.

I slowly open up the paper, wondering what I will find. I am met with still slightly damp, tear-stained pages. I put them in order, and start reading (italics is what is written, normal is his thoughts)

My dearest, Alexander

He has no right to use a comma there.

I am sorry. I know that there is no excuse for what I have done. I just want you to know before I start with what sounds like excuses, that I am sorry. I am so extraordinarily sorry.

He better be.

I should start at the beginning.

I figured out that that I was gay when I was 10. I told my father, and he told me that he would have no gay scum in his house.

It never came up again.

When I was 15, I brought home my first boyfriend. I don't think that I really liked him that much. He was just the only other gay kid in my school. So, I introduced him to my dad, and before I even finished the word 'boyfriend', he had thrown something at my face, and I blacked out. A week later, he sent some cronies to hurt my boyfriend.

You are smart Alex. You may have caught on to why I broke up with you.

I was protecting you Alex. It hurt me so badly to do that because I love you. Everything that I said back in Spring is true. Heck, everything I said that night is true.

I started crying

I love you Alexander Hamilton, but I also need to protect you.

No, you don't.

I know that you will probably never forgive me, but I just wanted you to know that I love you Alex. I know that I have no right to say that after what I have done, and you probably hate me, but I can't help it.

You know about Jefferson. The Henry Laurens that he mentioned, is my father. He paid them to beat you up. I don't know what Jefferson needed the money for, but whatever it was, it couldn't have been worth it.

Yours,

John Laurens

I sit back on my bed, clutching the letter and cry.

"No John" I mutter.