//TW: swearing, mentions of sex, brief allusion to homophobia, transphobia, and racism, self-hatred\\

If you get the reference in the title then I love you but also cringe

John

"You are literally the most annoying person I have ever met," Lafayette said, scrolling through his phone, his arm resting over my neck as I lay sprawled in his lap. As uncomfortable as it may have been, I was happy. Just as long as I got to lay near him and inhale the scent of his cologne, to feel the soft vibrations of his voice through my chest as I stared up at him, I was happy and there was nothing else in this world that could take that away. Not even his barbed words leaving little pulses of unwelcome electricity, not even the tiny glares that he shot me every now and again.

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Thank you! I try my best, you know."

"Maybe you should go bother Alexander for a bit," he returned, glancing up from his phone only briefly to shoot me a withering look. But the smile that lay hiding behind his forced toughness almost poked through, like sunbeams fighting off a massive army of clouds. I liked to see him smile.

"Alexander's going through a tough time right now," Hercules returned, not once looking up from the thing he was sewing as he spoke. Determination stole over his gaze, his brow furrowed in the utmost concentration. "Maybe we should just leave him alone."

"He doesn't need to be alone," Lafayette returned, harsh enough to make Hercules wince lightly as he always did when somebody raised their voice at him. "He doesn't need to...stew in his thoughts and become worse than he already is."

Hercules's eyes drifted back down to whatever new thing he was working on, his shoulders slumped. Lafayette opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, and glanced down at his phone. And so we left the thing so obviously hanging over all of our heads unspoken, the forbidden secrets we couldn't acknowledge lest we find something we don't like, buried deep underneath the layers.

Alexander should be here, with us. He should be slumped on the chair next to Hercules, writing his little heart out in ways I could never understand. The others should be here too, laughing and joking and pretending like nothing could ever go wrong. We should be together, even through sadness, for that is how we thrive. Not scattered, lost to our own devices. We should all be together in this one room, just like we always should have been.

And Thomas.

Thomas should be perched right next to Alexander, watching him in that way he always does when he thinks he has hidden behind the tendrils of ivy and crumbled walls of cobblestone, when he thinks he has hidden from the world. But it's so clear, how he views Alexander. The way he smiles for him and laughs for him, like nobody else exists. The way that for each other, there is no brighter warmth or softer respite. They have each other, and that's all they'll ever need.

They should be happy, sitting so close there's hardly any space between them, whispering things not meant for anybody else to hear. It's unfair, how clearly I can picture it.

And it's unfair how much it still hurts, even after all this time.

I glanced up at Lafayette, then over at Hercules, then at the ceiling above as I thought out what to say next, just to disband the silence that has fallen on us as we grieve the things that don't need grieving; they need action. It always hurt to see Alexander upset, but these two?

It crushed something deep inside of me, something tucked far down where no light can shine upon it, revealing its true nature for me to see. I'd rather like to keep it hidden, actually.

I pushed the feeling away, forcing myself to relax in the lazy beams of sunlight that poured in through the window, warming the couch that Lafayette and I sat on, perhaps a tad bit closer than we should have been. But at a time like this, where everything you think you know has been completely disregarded in favor of chaos and the heartbreak of so many people, all I can say is screw formalities.

If I don't live like everyday is the last moment I'll ever get to spend with the two of them, tucked away in our corner of the world where it never storms, then I'm going to live an unsatisfied life filled with regrets. And I won't have learned from the mistakes of everyone else.

"So, what's your opinion on, like... grapes?" I asked, desperate to fill the emptiness we had left.

"What do you want, John?" Lafayette snapped, shoving me out of his lap. I fell backwards again, refusing to support my own weight, and landed on his arm. He bit down on his lip, the telltale mark he was trying to hold back his inevitable laughter.

Good. Anything was better than the sullenness I cannot stand.

"I need your attention or I'm going to diiiiiiiiiiiie."

"Can you do us all a favor and die quieter?" he spat.

"Cold."

"John, I like you a lot, but you really need to shut up," Hercules finally said, momentarily glancing up from his work.

"Shut up? How can I possibly shut up now? We have a grave injustice on our hands and you expect me to remain silent?" I asked, pouring an unnecessary passion into every word I spoke, just to lighten the burden of this heavy reality threatening to plunge our world into absolute darkness.

"And what injustice is that?"

"Lafayette didn't answer my question, duh."

"Oh, duh. Of course."

"Herc, ignore him so he'll die."

I sat up and folded my legs. "Oh yes. When I die, you all will laugh. You'll be like 'Hah, he's dead. Time to start our master plan of taking over the world because John was the only one stopping us from doing so! God, wasn't he so handsome? John is just the best. Well, was, because he's dead. You know what? Maybe I'm a little sad. John is the most beautiful, most wonderful, smartest person to ever exist. Oh, if he was alive, I'd just fuck him on the sp-' HEY!"

"I did not do anything," Laf said calmly, though he had done something that involved punching me in the arm.

"Thank God, I thought he was never going to shut up," Hercules said, flashing a grin my way. It melted something within me, something soft and fuzzy and overbearingly sweet. God, how I loved his smile, his laughter, his—

NO! Stop it, you fucking moron! We are NOT doing this again.

I can't do it again. Not if it means getting my heart crushed once more, forced to watch as the world around me dulls and those crashing empty colors threaten to drown me, and then be forced to smile and be happy for somebody who seconds before left me high and dry. Not if it means watching as everybody else decides that I'm simply not enough for them. Not if it means feeling the river inside of me run dry for the last time, unable to withstand the heat of the sun any longer.

I can't do it again.

But, God, I wanted to.

"Heeeeeeeerculeeeeeees," I said, realizing that Laf would not be paying me the attention I rightfully deserved.

"I'm busy John," he replied calmly, occupied with whatever he was sewing.

"Can you not be busy?"

"You like having food to eat?"

"Well, yeah! Who doesn't?"

"Then can you let me do my job, so, you know. We can afford food?"

"I—that's a good point actually. My apologies, good sir."

Hercules rolled his eyes, and above me, Lafayette covered his smile with his hand to stifle the laugh bubbling up to the surface. I grinned, twisting my body so I could look up at him.

"Laaaa-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I was gonna say!"

"Yes, but my answer is no."

"What if I was going to ask you to kiss me?"

"Double no."

"Yeah? Well fuck you too."

"Triple no to that."

Hercules chuckled.

"Don't encourage him!" I said, turning to Hercules. "He doesn't need your help!"

"John?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up," Hercules said calmly.

"Y'all are so fucking mean to me!" I paused, recoiling as the word left my mouth. "Did you hear that? Y'all! You're making my Southern come out, and trust me when I say you do not want my Southern to come out."

"I thought Southerners were known for their, like, hospitality and politeness or whatever?" Hercules asked.

"Yeah, if you're white and straight. And a cis male."

"Oh. Yeah. Forgot about that. Well, still, shut up."

"Shut up, Heather!" I mimicked.

"What?" Laf asked, looking up from his phone with a confused frown, his brow furrowing.

"What?" I repeated, cocking my head to the side.

"John, what drugs are you on?" Hercules asked, finally losing his patience. That was a hard thing to accomplish, and it happened just for me! How sweet.

"The only drug I'm on is your looooooove. Also cocaine. No but seriously? I had three turtle cookies for breakfast."

"That is true. I watched him eat them. I told you it was a bad idea, but you never listen to me."

"I should clarify that the cookies had turtles on them, not that they were made out of turtles."

"I have a hard time believing sugar's the only thing you're on right now."

"Honestly that's kind of a mood. Anyway, I'm bored. Can you guys entertain me or something?"

"And how exactly do you want us to do that?"

"Oh, I'm sure you could think of a few—"

Laf kicked me before I could get the words out, but all that accomplished was turning me into a loud, perhaps a bit overly obnoxious mess of uncontainable laughter that rewrote the pain and anxiety bubbling deep down in my stomach.

"You're such an ass," Hercules said, holding his face with his hand as though my mere presence was too much for him.

The sad thing is that I'm sure it actually was. They might be laughing now, but who knows what they're truly thinking about, deep down below. I certainly don't, and that kills me.

But I forced myself to smile, refusing to let that worm of doubt hidden deep within my stomach have its way with me. It didn't matter how fabricated my happiness was; as long as it could fool them, it could fool me. Let me play the jester for a bit longer, just as long as they seem to be enjoying themselves.

"Understandable. Hey, wanna hear a joke?"

Hercules sighed. "John, I'm not exaggerating when I say I'd rather die than hear a joke from you. I'm not even kidding."

"You know what? Fine! You know who'd love to hear my jokes?"

"Thomas?" Laf suggested, his voice going strangely quiet. It seemed out of place, for his poorly-concealed smile to disappear so quickly, replaced by that constant element of not-knowing. The name washed over me, something barely recognizable but still familiar in the strangest of ways.

I blinked. "I was gonna say Peggy or Alex but that's a better idea! Thomas loves me!"

"Good. Someone has to."

"I'll remember this when you propose to me one day."

"Keep dreaming, Laurens," Laf shot back, but was he blushing ever so slightly? I think he was blushing ever so slightly.

"Aww, you really should stop lying to yourself," I returned with a grin, standing up and fetching my phone from the table where I had left it. "It's unbecoming, you know."

"You're such a..."

"Yes?"

Lafayette proceeded to make a noise that sounded like a mix between a groan of annoyance and a raccoon slowly being suffocated. He and Hercules exchanged a particular glance, but I simply pretended I didn't see it. We didn't have to get into all of that now.

I didn't need a reminder of how annoying I was, believe it or not.

I didn't need to remember how much of an inconvenience my mere presence was.

Stop, I told that niggling voice in the back of my head, forcing myself to take a deep breath to release that burning sensation crawling up the back of my throat.

I scrolled through my contacts until I found Thomas, paused with my thumb hovering over the button, and stared down at his name, apprehension filling me. Was I even allowed to call him? I didn't want him to get in trouble because I'm too stupid to realize when people grow tired of me.

Swallowing the thought down and hating how it burned on the tip of my tongue, I shook off the momentary hesitation and pressed down on the button. The dial tone filled the air.

He didn't answer.

I frowned. "Uh... never mind. I guess he's busy."

"Call him again," Lafayette urged, walking up behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders, no doubt to get a better look at my phone. But I'm glad he couldn't see my face, otherwise I'm sure he would have commented on how I had suddenly gained the unflattering complexion of a ripe tomato.

"I don't want to bother him," I returned after a minute, gazing at the reflection of my face on the phone.

"You're not a bother, John," Hercules said firmly, once more not looking up from his work.

"Thomas always picks up," Lafayette said. "Or at least, he used to. Just one more time, please?"

"You know, Thomas may actually have a life outside of us."

"John, please."

I sighed and called him again, waiting with a knot of dread sitting in my stomach. The dial tone filled the air again, going on much longer than it should have. My shoulders slumped, thumb hovering over the end call button. But the noise cut off abruptly, leaving a silence in its wake.

"Thomas?" I tried, moving the phone to my ear.

"Hey John, what's up?"

I frowned, trying not to wince at the heaviness that pulled his voice down, grounding it when it should have soared. Like a song played in the wrong key, it sounded off. Wrong.

"Nothing much. How are you?"

He laughed, if you could call it that. It came off sad, and quite pitiful, not the thing to be treasured that all laughter should be. "I'm...I'm alive! So, uh, I guess that's...uh, that's good. What about you?"

"Well, I'm great because I get to bother the shit out of Lafayette and Hercules."

"Oh, tell them I said hi?"

I did not.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

"Sure."

"Where do whales go to listen to music?"

"I don't know, where?"

"The orcastra!"

"Jesus Christ," Hercules commented from behind me.

"That... that was pretty bad, John. I'm not going to lie," Thomas said carefully.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate it? Ten being the best thing you've ever heard in your life?"

"Uh, I don't know. Maybe a four?" he said. I could almost picture him smiling, if not for the something sinister lurking beneath that slightly amused tone that had gone slightly raspy like it hadn't been used in a while. Something hid there that I didn't dare name, a shadow to be ignored and danced around in fear of what you might summon should you acknowledge it. I swallowed down the infinite questions pooling in my mouth and tried everything I could to let go of the horrible suspicions that had gained traction in the corners of my mind.

But whatever it was turned the laughter still hanging in the air to rot, poked holes in the perfect atmosphere I had tried so hard to create. And suddenly, all I could focus on was the way he said the few words he had, the way he hadn't even picked up the first time I had called, the weary sigh that escaped his mouth now as he waited for my response.

And I faltered, terrified of saying the wrong thing, of further chasing him to the edge of a cliff that promised nothing but a perilous plunge.

"Thomas?" I asked softly, abandoning the faux-cheerfulness and letting the worry poke through. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it be?"

"Thomas, don't lie to me. Is everything alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'm sorry. I really appreciate you calling, John. And I mean that. I don't mean to sound so upset or anything, and if I do then please forgive me. I'm just..." he explained, though he didn't have to. His words rushed together as he forced them out, as though they physically hurt him just to murmur. "I'm just so tired."

"Oh. Is there anything we can do to help? We could...bring you ice cream?" It fell so flat, but it was the only thing I could think of.

"What's going on?" Lafayette pressed, trying to steal the phone away from me.

Thomas laughed, though there was nothing behind it but a sullen dullness that left my stomach empty, deprived of the joy I needed to survive lest the world splinter apart. "That's very sweet of you, but I'm okay."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please don't worry about me," he said. "I'm alright."

"You know I don't believe you."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize—" I started, but then I heard it. A sudden, monotonous note that filled the air for a brief second before fading, no doubt on his end. It had been nothing but a background noise before, but now it was so clear and painfully obvious. I paused, listening, and it came again, a few seconds later, like its own strange melody. And once the realization of what that note was, of everything that it meant, of the implications that came with it, my stomach plummeted and the world swayed around me.

"Where are you right now?" I demanded all of a sudden, not caring how I sounded.

"I—" he started, but did not continue.

"Thomas," I said as firmly as I could without raising my voice. "Where are you right now?"

"I'm...nowhere. Please, don't worry about me. I'm fine. Thank you so much for calling me, I really miss hearing your voice. I'll see you later—"

"Don't you dare hang up."

"John!" Lafayette hissed out. "Give me the phone, now."

"I...I didn't...I'm sorry," Thomas tried, his words stumbling over each other as though he was seconds away from breaking into tears. His voice trembled, and it terrified me, knowing that there was nothing I could do or say but let him go.

And I refused to let him go.

"Thomas," I said, forcing my voice to soften. "Please just tell me what's going on. I won't be mad, and I won't do anything you don't want me to. But please, just tell me where you are."

I knew. Of course I knew. That repetitive beat that echoed in my ears like the soundtrack of some long forgotten nightmare was not something I would ever be able to forget. I knew exactly where he was but I needed him to say it, to confirm the worst of my suspicions.

Or perhaps to deny them, to make them disappear in the sunlight just as those nightmares do.

"It's okay, I'm okay. P-please don't worry."

"If you're okay, then tell me where you are," I said, firmer than I had any right to be. I didn't care if I sounded like an ass, I didn't care if I was intruding on something I had no right to step in on. He was my friend, and for all I know, he could be hurt.

"P-promise y-you won't be mad?" he whispered, his voice breaking with what would eventually become sobs if not treated before they spread, before they infected all they could.

"Of course I won't be mad."

"You can't...you can't tell a-anybody else."

"I won't."

I already knew it was a lie.

"Now, where are you?"

"I'm in the hospital," he whispered, the single word confirming everything I had hoped was wrong. But it filled my mind, playing over and over like the song of a broken record, a discordant tune that doesn't quite align with the rest of the album.

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair as everything sunk in, that dreadful understanding coupled by the plummeting of my heart. "Oh."

"I'm sorry for bothering you I'll go I didn't mean to—"

"What happened? Are you hurt? Can I get you anything?" The questions flew out in rapid-fire succession, questions I didn't even think about as they formed and took flight.

"Okay," Lafayette hissed. "That's it. Give me the fucking phone now before I do something we all regret!"

"Nothing happened, okay? I just—please don't worry about me."

"Oh, so you just magically wound up in the hospital?"

"WHAT?!" Lafayette shouted, making Hercules flinch at the sudden outburst. "Hospital?"

"Thomas, what happened?" I pressed, unwilling to let it all just flutter away until I had the answers I so desperately needed.

"Nothing happened. I'm alright. Oh, God, I'm so sorry. I never should have—"

"Thomas, just talk to me, please."

"Can I just see the fucking phone?" Lafayette all but begged.

"I'm going to go," Thomas said firmly, his voice cracking, as if the mere thought of being alone was more than he could handle.

"If you hang up, then I'm just going to come and find you."

"You c-can't!" he protested. "Just forget I said anything, please, I—"

"Does Alexander know?"

"I—" Thomas fell silent, and on the other end of the line, I could hear the faintest of sighs. Followed by something else, something softer pitched and melodic. Was it...was he humming? When he finally spoke again, he sounded defeated and just as lost as I was. "No. You're the only one who does."

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"I...I can't. I want to, but I just... can't."

"Give me the phone, you abat-jour inutile!"

I decided it would be best to ignore that comment. "That's okay! I understand. I'll tell Alexander and—"

"You cannot tell Alexander! I-if James f-finds out that I...that I told an-anybody, he'll...he'll..."

"I have to tell Alexander. He has a right to know."

"Oh, and I don't?" snapped Lafayette. I shoved his hands away as he made yet another grab for the phone, and he recoiled as if I had hurt him. But before I could apologize, he stepped backwards and slunk to the floor, curling his knees to his chest. Hercules joined him on the floor, wrapping an arm around him, and nodded at me to continue.

"Thomas?"

"Alexander can't know," Thomas persisted, his voice wobbling again. I could picture him, sitting alone in that barren white hospital room, surrounded by nothing but machines. A cold, inadequate substitute for the warmth of other human beings.

"And why not?" I pressed.

"Because...because if he does, he'll—he'll come looking for me. I just want him to forget, okay? I want him to...I...I w-want him t-to move...to move on f-from me."

My tongue fell in my mouth like a heavy stone, the words I had left dying as I listened to the half-formed sobs that spoiled the air. I stood there, useless, pathetic, unable to do or say anything. The phone shook in my unsteady hands, until finally, I sighed.

"Alexander loves you, Thomas."

It was the truth. As painful and as wonderful as it was to admit it, it was the truth. And, momentarily, it silenced the echo of his sobs. I pressed on in the new found quiet.

"Alexander loves you and he needs you and I don't think you fully understand what that means. I don't think you fully understand what you've done to him. Both with your affection and your absence." I sighed, staring at the ground as if it could give me the answers I needed. "I am going to tell him, whether you like it or not. He needs to know where you are."

"I—John, please. Just...just let me d-do this. Please just let...let him be happy with-without me."

"He isn't, though. That's the thing."

Thomas didn't respond.

"Can I tell Hercules and Lafayette?"

"No."

"Thomas—"

"Please, John?"

"Thomas, I have to!"

"No you don't! Can this... can this please just stay between us?"

"I think you know very well that it can't."

"I—I figured."

"I'm going to give you to Lafayette. I'll see you soon, okay, Thomas?" I said, offering Laf the phone before he could say anything else.

Lafayette accepted the phone, murmured a small "Thank you" that could have moved mountains with its earnestness, and adopted the sweetest of smiles as if Thomas was standing right in front of him. "Hey, Thomas! I...you...are you okay?"

Hercules let go of him and came to join me, throwing his arm around my shoulder. I should have pushed him back, rejected his attempt to show me the affection that no part of me deserved, but I couldn't. For some reason, I just couldn't. So, against my better judgement, I leaned in against him and let the scent of his cologne wash over me, closing my eyes and letting out a deep breath.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" I returned, even as my voice shook.

"You're crying," he pointed out.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It isn't your fault."

I nodded, gripping him tighter.

Lafayette chatted with Thomas for almost half an hour more, talking about the most random things. His smile slipped and never reformed, even as he joked and laughed around. Hercules and I listened, his arm never letting go of me. And I relished every last moment, for better or for worse.

Finally, Lafayette said his goodbyes and set down the phone, his shoulders falling in dejection. "Oh, God," he whispered to himself, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Here," Hercules said, pulling me over so the three of us were sitting together on the floor, our bodies pressed together but our minds million miles apart. None of us said anything, lost in the comfort of one another, until finally, I reached for my phone, dialed the number, and called Alexander.