Hamilton- Fake Laf AU (High school version) DISCONTINUED

3

Two days had passed.

Alex had said his goodbye to Laf in between sobs while Laf tried desperately to calm him down, saying that he wasn't leaving forever, only a few months.

Thomas had waited anxiously for Laf to finally leave.

He arrived safely in France. After only an hour of being there, he received a text message.

???: Hey, Lafayette. How's France? Nevermind. I don't care. I have a question.

Laf didn't recognize the number. He quickly typed out:

Laf: Who is this??

???: It's Thomas.

Laf put the contact in his phone. Except instead of setting the name as "Thomas," he wrote "Macaroni fucker."

Laf: How did you get this number?

Macaroni fucker: >:P
Macaroni fucker: So nosy

Laf: No seriously
Laf: How did you get this number

Macaroni fucker: I got it from a friend

Laf: Whatever. Why are you texting me?

Macaroni fucker: I have a question
Macaroni fucker: more like a request,,, or I guess I'm asking for a favor

Laf: What is it

Out of all the texts he expected from Thomas, the following was definitely NOT one of them.

Macaroni fucker: Can I pretend to be you so I can fuck your boyfriend

Laf: shdgdhshdhshdh
Laf: What the actual FUCK
Laf: I'm blocking you

Macaroni fucker: NO WAIT

Laf: You cannot pretend to be me so you can fuck Alex!!

Macaroni fucker: Just this once??

Laf: How would you be able to convince Alex that you're me if I'm IN FRANCE

Macaroni fucker: I have a plan
Macaroni fucker: You think I'm dumb enough to not think about that??

Laf: Oui

Macaroni fucker: >:(

Laf: Whatever. Go ahead.

Macaroni fucker: WAIT REALLY

Laf: I mean, you're going to do it without my permission anyway
Laf: So go ahead

Macaroni fucker: Holy shit
Macaroni fucker: Thank you
Macaroni fucker: So
Macaroni fucker: Fucking
Macaroni fucker: Much

Laf: Now delete my number

-Time skipppp-

Thomas woke up at the crack of dawn in order to get ready. After perfecting the outfit, he put his hair up with one of the hair ties he bought the night before. He stared into the mirror.

"Jesus Christ... I look exactly like him."

But of course, there was one thing different. The voice. It's pretty obvious that you're not actually the Frenchman you're imitating when you don't have a French accent. Luckily, their voices were the same pitch and everything, so all Thomas had to do was speak in a generic French accent, and it was perfect.

So he started saying a few phrases in the accent. He practiced for about a half an hour just so it could be beyond perfect.

And when that moment came, he smiled to himself.

This was going to work.

He couldn't wait to see Alex.