Okay, so I just got a beautiful new cover from @florencemaude. She is a phenomenal writer, go check out her story Sovereignty and Servitude. It's amazing!!! But here we go, sorry this chapter was a week late.

Alexander Hamilton V

 When I wake up my throat hurts, like a mixture of a sore throat and choking. The excess of grease from last night so overwhelmingly awful. But, I'm glad I ate the extra pieces, because now I can throw up and run. And the pillow divider helped the balance even more. Every time that I woke up halfway about to start hugging John, I would lay flat back out again and fall back asleep.

At some point during the movie, Laf whispered in my ear about how 'I'll be on sick leave for the next two weeks. Maybe two depending on my progress.' It is very jarring that I don't need to wake up at 3:15 to go to the coffee shop. But, I can't leave the bed. It was bad enough that these people were paying for me, and housing me, I couldn't go out and just sit in their house without their permission. The sinking knot had already started to grow, and the very last thing that I needed right now was for an attack to happen. I couldn't do that to John.

Around 6:45 a series of rustling sounds came from the kitchen area. That must be Herc. Herc said he'd go on a run. I need to go on this run. The food will never leave, I'll be so fat and then there'd be more of me. And then-

My worrying is cut off by John shifting in his sleep and mumbling, as if he was having a bad dream. Slowly and carefully sliding out of his bed, I try to glide into the kitchen as quietly as possible.

"Alexander," Herc greets me, placing his half full water bottle on the counter, "You're up early."

The balance is so in my favor right now, I could talk forever. "Just, ingrained in my memory, you know. With the coffee shop." My voice gives out, I usually don't talk early in the morning. All the coffee shop customers early in the morning are regulars. Regulars get that I can't talk, they get that the balance would be thrown off. "You're going on a run?" I eventually ask.

"Well, I am." After a moment of hesitation he offers what I knew he would, "Do you want to join? I was going to do a long run, 25 miles. I'm training for an ultra marathon. But, after all that pizza I'm thinking around, let's say, 14. I have a loop. It's a bit long, but-"

"I'd love to. I'm ready when you're ready." I jump in, the excitement flowing through me. All of this grease and fat and everything was going to be gone. The balance would be totally restored to its former messed-up-ness, but restored nonetheless.

The surprise is wiped off of Herc's face in half a second. "Are you okay to go with what you have on, or are you going to change?"

"I'm good with what I have," I reply, my tone getting an excited edge to it. I haven't heard that edge in forever, I need to eat more greasy foods. This is amazing.

"Okay then, give me a second and we'll be ready to go. Just so you know, I don't know how fast you run, but I usually run 9-10 minutes miles. That fine for you?"

"Sure. I usually run 7-8 minute miles, but I also usually only run 3-4 miles." That's all the wiggle room I have in the balance. All I can do without having to do something to make up for it.

Someone saw me run in highschool, and got me signed up for the cross country team. I loved it, but to make the balance okay again after all the races, I'd have to either overeat, not eat, or if the situation was really bad (for example my P.R. of 15:03) I would cut. Never a big enough cut that someone would notice (Dad never liked when I cut, he didn't care) and I never wanted to disappoint when I was with Dad.

But today I could just run. I caught the tail end of Herc's amazed face.

"Well speedy boy, let's go." With a pointed glance at me, he smiled and said, "I knew those skinny limbs would mean you're a runner. Laf disagreed. He thought you were anorexic."

I've earned six miles of chatter I internally figure out. That pizza set me back a lot. I've earned this.

"I raced in highschool," I start, leaving out the fact that I technically could be considered anorexic (Eliza told me this). "I was on the varsity team. Got a ton of scholarships handed to me."

"Did you accept any of them?"

"I couldn't, you see..."

- - -

We made it about five miles before I feel the pizza grease coming back up. The puke will wash away the grease, so when I feel the puke starting to build, I start running faster, pushing harder. Herc stays at his pace and just watched as I hunched over the nearest trashcan and threw up all the pizza, all the grease, and some of the fat (the fat that hadn't gone straight to my body that is).

It felt so good, the grease was gone. And the balance was still in my favor, I could probably talk for the rest of the run. Wait, I should save my balance for later on. I should probably save it for later, or I could just run faster.

I shake my head a little, still completely in the trash can, I could take one more mile without taking. A small smile finds its way onto my face, this has been a great morning, I wonder how my Mom is. I should ask Herc or Laf to take me to see her, if I can't die then somebody has to take care of her.

"You okay, Hamilton?" Herc asked, as he came up behind me. I think he noticed all my puke in the trash can, and started lightly patting my back, "Get it all out of your system. Get it all out, Hamilton. It doesn't need to be in your body right now."

I felt another round of puke coming up and edging around my throat, and as I can't help the smile that's turning up the edges of my lips. He got it, Herc got the balance. But he also probably thinks that I'm insane though, I'm smiling at trash. Not figurative trash, a literal New York trash can. Those things are nasty, straight up nasty.

But I smile, and it's not an empty smile, it's a legit smile. I'm smiling at how good my smile is. I hate my smile most of the time. It's usually something I do when I need to fix the balance of things. But right now, staring down a trash-puke combo filled trash can , I really like this smile.

If only I could do this more.

- - -

When we got back to the apartment, it was around 9:15 in the morning, which meant that if I were working then I'd be a bit more than halfway through my shift that the coffee shop.

"Wanna take the first shower?" Herc asks, as he turned the doorknob to open up the apartment door, sound already sneaking through the cracks.

The sound hits us full force, even before the door was fully open, Laf as watching tv really loud for the time in the morning. It sounded like he was watching Glee?

Back when my Mom was in a better shape, before her cancer, she would always want to watch Glee. Glee was our thing, she would keep him away and she'd make popcorn for us. Glee was great, I was 13 when it first came out and we recorded all the episodes. That way we could rewatch our favorites while we waited for the next season to come out.

So, it's completely rational that my brain could recognize Kurt Hummel's voice through the door, right?

Herc's face was nothing short of complete confusion.

"Laf, why are you hate watching a show?"

I audibly gasp, not evening caring about the balance for a second, "You're hate watching Glee! You don't hate watch Glee!"

Laf angrily snorts, "I'm not hate watching Glee. Glee is a cultural masterpiece, I wouldn't dare. I'm brooding, John was being a bit of a buttjerk this morning."

"A buttjerk?" Herc questioned raising one of his carefully plucked eyebrows.

"Hey, we never established how old our guest is." Laf replied shrugging.

I get that a lot, between my shoulder length hair, and my 'baby face' I've had people assume I'm a teenager still.

"He's 23, so you're good."

"Oo, he can both drink and drive. Lovely, love that. Watch Glee with me, fellow Glee lover."

"There's two of them now," Herc groaned as he fell onto the couch with us.

I smile a response, instead of my usual nod or grunt, because I feel like smiling. It makes me hate myself, but I also kind of like it and how it makes me feel. My teeth have always been a light yellow and none of the whitening toothpastes do anything. And, they're crooked, and they don't really fit in with my face.

But I smile. And he smiles back. He has a really nice smile, his teeth are really white and they fit in his face and they're straight as Chuck Norris.

I love Glee so much.

"So season three, ey?"

- - -

Our Glee marathon is interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Hello," A voice yells from the front door, a not John voice. "I'm just standing here waving through the window."

Laf and Herc groan loudly, "Come in Phillip. Please no Dear Evan Hansen today."

"So," the voice, now named Phillip, drew out walking towards the couch, "Wicked is still on the table."

"No, no, no!" Laf angrily shouted, a heavier french accent coming in, "You keep your Wicked, and your Dear Evan Hansen, and your Something Rotten."

"So, Heathers is still a viable choice. Cool," Phillip said as he attempted to launch himself into the middle spot of the couch from behind. A spot I was sitting in.

The voice turned out to belong to a teenage-ish looking kid with all my features, except they fit his face. They looked good on his face.

"Hey, not sure if you guys are aware of this," Phillip started, addressing Laf and Herc, who had already turned their attention back to Glee, "But-"

"That's Alexander," Herc matter a factly stated. "He's staying with us for a few weeks. He's John's guest."

Phillip's face lit up, "What grade are you going into! You're a transfer here right? Part of the program?You look like an Alex. That is how John found you right? I'm calling you Alex, even though I'm more of a last name guy. Maybe we got to the same school! I hope we have the-"

I opened my mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. I don't have the balance to spare that talking to this clone of me would've taken. Laf or Herc would get it, whatever they did to get their balances in check so they can talk so much is far beyond me.

Wait. Wait, he's going to call me Alex. That'd balance it out a sentence or two. I can do this. Let's get a sentence or two in.

"Slow your roll, Phillip. Alexander here is 23, and John met him at a coffee shop, The Jumping Bean, and then they met later under more," Laf struggles for a word, "Unpleasant circumstances."

I'm not entirely sure what Herc mouthed to Phillip while I was facing Laf, but I can guess that it was 'suicide.' Phillip's face softened and he got a sad look on his face.

"Well," Phillip started, "I do believe that me and my more attractive clone will get along very well. Hey, Alex, did you grow up in New York, I grew up in New Jersey. But I moved to the city when I was 15. I'm 18 now and my birthday is in a month."

I flinch at the use of Alex(despite being prepared for it), and stare down the others a look that says, 'don't you dare correct him.'

I know that they got the memo because Herc leans over, now in sweatpants and a t-shirt (lounging wear), "That's strike one for today, Hamilton."

Shrugging Herc's statement off, I say my own prepared statement. "I grew up in New York. But I was born and lived in the Domican Republic for ten years."

"That's so cool!" Phillip cries excitedly bouncing up and down like a little kid, "The Carribean is so cool! I can't believe you lived there. You don't look like," he stops, "I don't mean to be offensive but you don't look Domincan."

"My mom's parents migrated there, my dad was only there for a few years before I was born."

Phillip nodded, "That makes a lot of sense. But seriously are we somehow related because you look like me except a model. Love the hair by the way, Alex mah boy."

Shaking that out of my head, I open my mouth, clear my throat and try to say something about how Phillip is obviously more attractive than me. But I decide against it. What I say instead is, "You like Glee?"

"I grew up on Glee, Alex. What season are we on?"

"Four I think."

"Lovely."

And just like that, we spent the rest of our afternoon watching Glee. I'm not entirely sure, but I think I fell asleep during the middle of the fourth season.