If I Could Tell Him... [modern LAMS AU]

♡Chapter Twenty-One♡

Alexander Hamilton P.O.V

It is late December. Finals are over and we're pretty much chill now. I finally have some time to catch up on some light reading. John's head is resting on my lap. I stroke his hair with one hand, only stopping when I need to flip the page.

I love his hair. It's silky in a weird, unexpected way. By looking at it, you'd think his hair is greasy or frizzy. But it's as soft as silk. I love having my fingers tangled up in his chocolate hair. He hums as my hand one again runs down his hair.

I look down at John. He fell asleep on my lap. His mouth was slightly open, so there was some drool staining the thigh of my jeans. I couldn't care less. When I saw him, it felt like every mess in my life was cleared. Every planet on the universe was aligned. It feels like I'm no longer with Eliza. We don't have to hide anymore. We just get to be us. It feels like we can go on normal dates, not worrying of who's around to snitch on us. It feels good. It feels safe. It feels perfect.

But as my phone chimes, all those feelings go away. Eliza texts me a "Hello". I want to ignore her, but suddenly, realization strikes me. I know what I have to do. I know how to get the feelings to stay.

I'm going to come clean.

°•○•°

I stand in front of her dorm door with shaking hands. I don't want to hurt her, but it's the right thing to do. The faster I explain the situation to her, the faster she can get to carry on with her life.

Oh my God what if she doesn't? What if she's mad? What if she's sad? What if she kills me? OH MY GOD WHAT IF SHE KILLS HERSELF--

Okay, Alexander. Calm yourself. You're being irrational.

BUT WHAT IF--

These are some of the thoughts that run through my head as I knock on the door.

"Just a minute!" She called from inside.

A minute after she opens the door, beautiful as ever, her hair dripping little translucent spots into her pastel blue blouse.

"Oh, hey, Lexi!" She greets me smiling. She does have a beautiful smile.

"Hey..." I respond awkwardly. I really don't want to hurt her. "Can... can I come inside?"

She looks worried, but nods anyways, smiling as usual. I walk into her dorm room, feeling overwhelmed by the strong smell of jasmine; she probably spilled her perfume.

I sit down on the couch. She goes toward her desk to get a mug full of hot coffee. She sits down next to me and sets the cup down in front of me.

"You look like you need it," she says kindly. She's right. I thank her silently and drink the dark contents of the mug.

"I... I needed to talk to you about something..." I say.

She looks at me expectantly. "Shoot."

"I-" I sigh. Shit. How the fuck do you do this?

I rehearsed this a million times in my head. I also imagined the possible responses I might get from her. All of them. Anger, sadness, confusion. Hell, even denial. For some reason, however, having her here makes it so much more difficult.