John was already lonely.

And sad.

And bored.

And panicked.

And anxious.

And confused.

(^Me when school started)

Alex had left a few minutes prior, promising to write letters with updates of the war and other things that were going on in his life.

The problem was that he'd sorted out his feelings for Alex just a few hours hours ago and then poof went Alex.

John felt like someone had given him a box of strings all tangled with each other and told him to untangle it. He'd gotten one string free, his love for Alex, but then someone had tied a separate knot in it. He had to undo the string and the rest of the box, and it would be very hard to do so without Alex.

Though it had only been a few minutes and there was no way Alex was capable of sending a letter, John prayed for news.

There was a knock on his door and he looked up, shouting at whoever wad knocking to come in.

Martha opened the door, holding what seemed to be a box of dirt.

"What do you want Martha?"

"You know that time your shroom—"

"Alex." John corrected, not wanting Alex to be considered his property or something.

"Right, whatever. Well you when I got him to grow me mushrooms?"

"Yeah, I remember that." John frowned.

"Ok good, cause look what happened." She put the box of dirt down, apparently not noticing that her brother was clearly not in the mood. Or maybe she just didn't care.

John peered at the box just to be a good brother and hopefully get Martha to shut up and leave him alone.

Inside, where John had thought there just was dirt, was a whole box full of mushrooms of all sizes. Some full-grown, others new sprouts, others already starting to wither.

"Cool...?"

"The mushrooms spread their seeds!" Martha squealed.

"Cool. How many of those did you make Alex grow?"

Martha looked at her box, clearly thinking. "The older ones." She said eventually.

"So... a little under half?"

"Yeah that seems about right." She beamed.

"There are like, fifty of these. You made him grow then to their full sizes?"

"Yeah."

"Ok that's enough, out you go." John stood up and ushered his sister out, shifting and locking the food behind her.

"John!" She protested.

"No." John muttered, sitting down on the floor.

He heard footsteps retreating and put his face in his hands, closing his eyes and letting out a long sigh.

—~•~—

One day later he got what he wanted; in the mail came a letter from Alex.

John opened it swiftly, remembering all the times Alex had referred to the letter-opened as a mini dagger and chuckled.

Dear John,

I arrived at the riverside camp to find it a barren mess incapable of housing anyone.

Apparently the humans attacked only two hours earlier and the officials have been transferring soldiers to the other camp.

A million thanks for stopping me from leaving both times, I'd rather avoid getting slaughtered on my first day in the army, and would never be able to bear the guilt of leaving you and heading off to my death without a word or on such a sour note.

I've met an abundance of other shrooms (some of whom are female!) the Woodhearts do not seem to care much when it comes to our kind, which is no great surprise, and have placed us in the front rows to get shot first when the time comes.

But I won't dwell any longer on these matters, let me tell you about the shrooms I've met and I think it's fairly safe to say I've befriended:

There's Catherine (MacaroniCoconuts sorry she took so long to show up) who's a French lesbian (which makes all the males flirting with her seem stupid) and a shroom with such an obnoxiously long name that I'm going to spare you and use his nickname; Lafayette. Also French, he has a much thicker accent then Cathy and sometimes forgets English words.

There are some decent-seeming faeries that aren't shrooms too but I fear I'm boring you already, so I'll wrap up the letter here.

Pray tell me, how you've been, I miss your company already.

Yours,
(The one and only) Alexander Hamilton

John noted that Alex seemed much more in his element when writing, which wasn't very surprising being the fact that Alex had repeatedly stated that he spent most of his free time writing.

John grabbed his quill and ink pot, searching for some paper to write on.

Once he'd gathered all the materials he started writing a response.

Dear Alex,

To answer your question; all is well here, my father seems appeased now that the Woodhearts have stopped sending him letters, though it seems that you were one of the only staff members sent which I feel very bitter about.

Martha has a collection of mushrooms that she insists on showing me almost daily, which isn't helping me not worry about you constantly.

I'd hate it if you left and died, that's one of the worst things imaginable, especially if it was after you confessed to me.

I've only realized now that you've left just how tedious my life was (and is again now); I have no friends and no way to entertain myself because the library and most other interesting rooms are usually also where my siblings hang out and I can't summon enough emotions to go deal with them. The main thing I seem to be able to muster the energy to do is paint, so I've been spending a lot of time outside.

I'm glad you've met nice shrooms though I wish it were under different circumstances, being put together in the army isn't the nicest way to make friends if you ask me.

Not saying it's not good that you met and befriended other shrooms mind you, I'm just saying that being used as missile targets is a dreary way to bond.

Please keep me updated and write frequently so I don't fear getting a letter saying you've been killed.

Yours,
John Laurens