Okay so let's try this again for the third time, yeah? I've written two other stories, each of which wasn't really going anywhere, and I honestly just didn't like them. At all. So hopefully this is the golden book. Merry Christmas, or just happy holidays to anyone reading this! Of course, this story will have the feels because I can't seem to write anything but. Don't worry, like most stories it has an adorable ending but we will have to wait for that. ;). For now, take this first part! Have an awesome rest of your day!
John rapped on Alexanders door quickly, in his hand, he nervously held his Christmas present for him he had been saving up for months. He tapped his foot, silently praying Alex would be home. He had to catch a ride to South Carolina, if Alex wasn't home he wouldn't be able to give him the gift in person, which is what he had planned for. He exhaled softly when he heard footsteps approach the door, The door opened, and there stood none other than Alex, who had dark circles under his eyes like always. This time, John decided not to bug him about it.
"John? Come in-"
"Um, no," John said quickly. He mentally kicked himself, then recovered.
"I mean, n-no thanks. Hey listen I got you something,"
He handed Alex the package.
"Just don't open it until I'm gone, okay?"
Alex's head shot up, a look of shock written on his face, man, he really needed to word his sentences more carefully.
"I'm going to my families this week," he quickly explained, "I won't be back for a few, so I wanted to drop this off before I left." At these words, Alex seemed to ease up a bit.
"Oh, alright. It will kill me not being able to thank you for so long," Alex said, chuckling. He turned the gift over in his hands. "You really didn't have to-"
"I know, I wanted to though," John said, cutting Alex off for the second time. He never was very good at giving gifts it seemed.
"Well, thank you. How long do I have to wait to open it?"
John grinned, "until you can't see me down the street. I'll see you later then!" He waved to Alex. who still looked a bit shocked and left.
He walked down the road briskly, silently cursing himself out for making a fool of himself the whole way back.
"This is what you get for having crushes," He muttered to himself angrily.
Alex peered out the window a third time, finally concluding he could no longer see John down the street. He turned back to the delicate package in his hands, the words To Alex, From John written on the top. He opened it, careful not to rip it too much. He unfolded the paper wrappings to reveal a small plain brown box. Inside much to his surprise held a quill with a note attached.
I hope you have no trouble using this quill for your own interests, I've also packed a small quantity of paper and ink for you as well. I know surely they will be used well.
Yours, J. Laurens.
He smiled down at the slip of paper, then proceeded to take out the quill. It was heavier than expected, a sign it was quality. He turned it over, then saw something he didn't expect.
He held it close to his eyes, and right in the edge of the pen was engraved Alexander Hamilton In ornate writing. He blinked, making sure he was seeing it right.
"God John, this must've cost you a fortune," He said to himself, running his thumb over the cool, shiny metal. He had to admit, he almost felt bad using it, but at the same time, he would feel worse not using it. He walked over to his desk, setting down his paper and ink. He grabbed a blank sheet, then gently took the quill and dipped it into his already opened ink. He began writing and noticed the considerably more smooth writing, and overall more comfortable feel. He smiled, then continued.
My dearest, Laurens..
John looked into his father's stone cold eyes, narrowed, piercing into his.
"Are you going to give me an answer? Or just stand there like a blubbering idiot?"
John shook his head, casting his eyes to the ground.
"There's no reason you couldn't have written, did you even care? You expect me just to let you in after completely ignoring us for so long? No way, you can just go back to whatever filthy part of the city you came from."
"Don't call me that, you're no son of mine," He spat.
John felt his throat close, and his eyes blurred with unshed tears. He watched helplessly from his old front door-step as his father gripped the door, swinging it shut. He paused as the door was halfway closed.
"Oh, and if you were wondering about your mother, which I'm sure you weren't, she's dead," He said coldly, gritting his teeth. "Died three months ago. But you couldn't have given a damn about her either, could you?!"
And with that, he slammed the door in his face. John stood for a few moments, paralyzed. It took him a moment to process what he had heard. He turned, numbly walking down the steps. He couldn't begin to let what he had heard sink in. He had come all this way just to learn the only people who loved him were either gone or disowned him and hated him to the core. He hastily wiped a tear that rolled down his cheek as he walked down the dirt road.
"I can't believe it," He whispered shakily. "I don't want to believe it…"
A/N- DUN DUN DUN! Okay, so I'm cutting this a bit short since it's Christmas eve and I want to try out my bath bomb, so I'll continue this tomorrow. Until then, enjoy this rollercoaster of feeling. See you next chapter because it seems I am incapable of one-shots!