Warning-depressed thoughts, disordered eating, panic attacks, self hate, Burr being his weird-ass self.

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Mr. Burr. What are your standings on the Florida gun control change?"

A small man in the back fiddled with his laptop cord, flushing slightly. He was a tad bit taller than Alex (who was he kidding, everyone was taller than him), and was wearing a dark purple sweatshirt, so dark it was almost black.

"Um, well..." Burr cleared his throat and looked up. "What are your outlooks, sir?"

Washington sighed and glanced at the ceiling, with an expression that said, Why is it always me who gets this kind of thing?

"Never mind," he grumbled, and turned to Alex. "Alexander, your insight, if you will."

Alex sat up straighter in his chair. "I believe that there are two conflicting sides, sir. I truly think that the law was a good idea, but now the state of Florida is paying for it with backlash from the NRA. It was passed with good intentions, and I think that it will hopefully start a decline of crime for teens, but ultimately I believe that it won't play as big of a part as it was meant to. Passing this law doesn't stop kids from taking their parent's guns and doing what they want with it. In my opinion, it will help us get to better control, but we aren't completely shutting down the problem just yet."

The classroom was quiet, a bit taken aback from Alex's short spiel. Washington raised his eyebrows and awarded Alex a faint smile, something that he almost never gave. "Thank you, Mr. Hamilton, for voicing that so nicely. I happen to agree with your standings."

In the back, Burr sank lower in his seat and scowled. Alex shot him a sympathetic look, but he just frowned in response. Whatever, Alex thought, and turned back around, re-focusing on the lecture. Washington had now moved onto a different subject and was talking about types of guns and how they worked during revolutionary times. John was scratching down notes next to him; ever since he had missed his essay he was working twice as hard on his schoolwork. Angelica approved, but Alex suspected that John's dad was the object that was giving John drive.

Washington glanced at the clock. "Alas, it seems that our river has run dry." The class stared back uncomprehendingly. "Our time is up," he clarified, and students started putting books into their bags. Alex quickly stuffed his books away and hurried out the door, barely pausing to wait for John, who had to jog to catch up.

"Where are you running off to?" He asked, only half joking, and Alex glanced over his shoulder. "Jefferson," he muttered, and John just nodded. He had given up on trying to get Alex to just ignore him.

Alex was so busy looking for Jefferson that he almost ran over a guy in a purple sweatshirt. "Sorry-" he started to apologize, when the figure turned around and he stopped midsentence. "Oh. Burr. Hey."

Burr raised his eyebrows and his eyes flashed over Alex, taking in his disheveled appearance, with Alex's ratty Converse and his hair in a messy bun.

He smirked.

Burr cleared his throat. "I believe we haven't properly introduced yet." He held out his hand, "Aaron Burr Junior. My father used to be the Headmaster before his untimely passing alongside my mother." A smug little smile had crept up his face.

Alex quickly stuck out his hand, almost dumping his bag onto the sidewalk in his haste. "Alexander Hamilton. Pleased to meet you."

John shifted uncomfortably behind him, then peeked over Alex's shoulder, "Hi. I'm John."

Burr rolled his eyes just the tiniest bit, and Alex got the subtle feeling that this guy would do anything, play anyone, to get what he wanted.

Alex re-adjusted his bag, self-consciously trying to make himself tidier. "So...If you don't mind, can you please move? I have to go to Fiction-Writing in a few minutes."

Burr got out of the way, then fell into step next to Alex. "I've noticed that you're very outspoken in class. You like sharing your ideas."

Alex smiled, "Yeah, I like talking about history and law. I get that from my dad."

Burr frowned a little. "I would be careful, if I were you."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, some people don't like it when others get in their way." Burr's eyes roamed over the campus, looking slightly like an animal that's always looking for a predator- or a fight.

Alex looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Burr, what are you saying?"

"You should be careful about what comes out of your mouth."

Alex rolled his eyes and sighed. "Are you talking about Jefferson?" He asked, and Burr shrugged. "I'm talking about anyone," he said vaguely.

"Look," Alex said sharply, "I already have enemies here. I understand that you're trying to help. But I know what I'm doing, okay?"

Burr stopped outside of the English building. "Okay. If you think you have it all under control, then I guess you do. Good luck, Alexander." He smiled a smile that people who think they know more than you do have. "I'll see you around."

And just like that, Burr was gone, walking at a brisk pace back down the way they came, then turned the corner and disappeared.

Alex watched him go. "Well, that was strange."

John looked at the spot where Burr had last been, "He's kind of the oddball on campus. But, y'know, everyone sucks up to him since his dad was Headmaster."

Alex shrugged, "Well, at least he didn't make me late." He turned to John and hugged him, "I'll see you later, 'kay?"

"Okay. I love you." John smiled down at him.

Alex turned red. He hadn't been expecting this. "I, um, uh-yeah. You too," he stuttered, and wanted to reach backwards in time and slap himself. "I, um, I gotta go," he said, and broke away, putting his head down and walking quickly, leaving John standing there alone, a slightly hurt expression on his face.

X

Alex zoned out completely. He forgot what Professor Abeline was talking about, forgot about that he was supposed to be taking notes. The only thing his brain had could focus on was "I love you."

John had told him he loved him.

And he loved him back, but...

For the past six years, ever since he had been seperated from his brother when their mom had died, those words hadn't been meant for Alex's ears. He had heard it in public, when parents dropped their kids off at school and told them that they loved them, and the teenagers would just roll their eyes and walk away as fast as possible to avoid being teased by peers.

It was like being reintroduced back to the modern world after being in a third-world country.

Alex would know how that felt, since he had been in that spot before.

Holy shit, John loved him.

Alex blinked. Classmates were walking out of the door, and Alex hastily grabbed his stuff, hauling himself out of his seat. He had lunch next. With John. And Herc and Laf, and the sisters, but still. With John. Who loved him.

Alex grinned like an idiot.

He didn't like getting close to people. Nine foster homes in the past four years had taught him that getting close to people always ended in disaster. He gave up on making friends and just kept his head down at school instead, focusing on schoolwork and books. And writing. Always writing. He still had composition notebooks stuffed away in his suitcase that were bursting with his words, not to mention the old files on his computer from when he had first gotten it.

And yes, they had been dating for almost two months, but still. Alex wasn't usually comfortable with touching people, or being close in any way to anyone.

John was different. John was special. John didn't care that Alex had to make his bed a certain way every morning or else he felt like the room was way too off, and he didn't care that Alex wore long sleeves all the time, and he didn't think that it was weird that Alex took meds because his brain was messed up.

He was almost to the commons now. He could tell because he could hear a low rumble of voices, like a tremor before an earthquake hit.

Alex spotted John and his friends almost immediately, mostly because of Hercules, who was like a giant sitting at their table.

Alex sat down next to John, who smiled tightly at him. Laf raised his eyebrows and looked between them, sensing the chemistry change, while Hercules obliviously slurped on his smoothie. Laf opened his mouth, but Alex shot him a look that said, drop it.

He pulled out his Political Science textbook and set it on the table in front of him, planning on getting in some extra study time. John nudged him, "Aren't you going to eat anything?"

Alex shrugged, "Nah, I'm not that hungry. And I don't want to get anything on my notes." John frowned and silently offered up his chip bag, which crackled invitingly. Alex hesitantly reached in and pulled out some chips, and set them on a napkin, where they wouldn't get anywhere near his books.

Grease. Touching his stuff. He shuddered inwardly.

Alex took out his notebook and started writing stuff down, glancing up occasionally to make a comment in John and Laf's argument about whether cereal was a soup or not.

"It can't be a soup!" John exclaimed. "It's not hot!"

"Vichyssoise is cold," Laf pointed out. "It's still a soup." John stared at Laf. "What the fuck is fishysaw?"

Lafayette snorted at John's butchering of the French language, "Non, non, vichyssoise." He pronounced it like vish-ee-saw. "It's like a cucumber soup, but served cold."

Alex picked up one of the potato chips and popped it into his mouth. He sureptiously wiped his hands on his napkin before picking up his pen again.

"Cereal is not a soup, Laf," Herc chimed in, and Laf gaped at him. "Oh, so now you're taking his side?"

"Becuase I'm right," John said triumphantly, and Laf glared. "This is just like in high school with The Incident," he muttered.

"Hey, I didn't break into Herc's locker and steal his shirt-so I could sleep with it," John said defensively, and Lafayette turned red. "We are not supposed to talk about that," he hissed.

"Yeah, dude, I'm still on John's side. That was a bit creepy," Herc said, and Laf looked hurt. "I missed you."

"I don't care, it was weird-"

John's phone started ringing, a tone that Alex hadn't heard it play before. John, Herc, and Laf all stopped mid-argument and stared at it, varying looks of panic written across their faces.

"Pick it up," Hercules whispered. "He doesn't like it when you don't answer."

John tenatively picked up the phone and cleared his throat. "I'll-I'll be back," he said, and walked out of the commons. Alex looked at Herc. "His dad," Herc mouthed, and Alex nodded. He picked up another chip and forced himself to eat it. He didn't really like chips (they were too messy), but it would make John happy.

Alex went back to his book, while Herc and Laf ate in silence, occasionally glancing at the doorway that John had disappeared through.

John came back in a few minutes, noticably paler than he had been before. Laf opened his mouth, but John just shook his head. "It's fine," he muttered. "Everything's fine." He sullenly picked at his sandwhich, a grim expression on his face.

The table was silent, tension growing over everyone. Alex stared at his book, trying to ignore the pressure, but eventually he looked up. John was glaring at his sandwhich, Laf was flicking through his phone, glancing up to check on John every few seconds, and Herc was trying to silently finish his smoothie (to no avail, since at the end of every drink there's that loud, grating, sucking noise from the straw).

Alex ate another chip, wiped his hands on a napkin, and flipped the page. He read the paragraph about four times before realizing that he wasn't absorbing anything, and that he couldn't even remember what he was supposed to be reading about. Everything was just too distracting: the group of students loudly discussing something on the Internet, the fact that there was grease on his fingers, Herc's smoothie that he refused to let die and just kept making it get louder and louder. It felt like it was bearing down on him.

Alex slammed his book shut and started gathering up his stuff. He had to get out of here, he couldn't do this anymore.

"Where're you going?" John asked grumpily, and Alex shook his head. "I just-I can't concentrate. I'm going back to our room," he said quickly, and almost sprinted out of the commons.

He walked in a daze back to his dorm, keeping his head down. He hated uncomfortable situations like that, hated being in a large group of people. Classes were okay, as long as he could focus on what was being taught, but things like this, with so much noise and pressure and closeness.

Alex got into their room and went into the bathroom, shutting the door and closing his eyes. He just needed a little breathing room, so that he didn't flip out.

He sat on the lip of the tub and took a deep breath. Okay. Okay, this isn't so bad. Breathe. Just breathe.

Be normal for once in your life.

The room had stopped spinning. The buzzing in his ears was gone. Alex let out a small snort. I'm just Alex in the bathroom.

He stood up and rummaged in the cabinet, coming up with his anti-anxiety pill bottle. He took one, put the bottle back, and walked out, sitting down at his desk.

His stomach hurt a little. His hands felt slightly numb.

But he was fine. No panic attacks. No reason to worry.

No cutting, which was good. He was getting back to being more normal, to being better.

But his stomach still hurt. And the white walls of the dorm were a little too bright.

Alex got up and laid on his bed, staring at the ceiling. It was like he just couldn't make himself move, like he was made of stone. He remembered how his mother had done this, how she wouldn't get out of bed for days on end, leaving Alex and his brother to look after the house and the finances. A memory flashed through his head:

Alex was a freak

Alex blinked, brought back to the present. He had been right, his twelve-year-old self. He was a freak, he was like his mom, and it was never going to change. He was going to be stuck like this forever, stuck for all eternity the strange, panicky weirdo.

He heard the door open, and slowly sat up. John plopped down onto his bed and looked at Alex. "Are you okay? You kind of left in a rush."

"I'm fine," Alex said, "It was just...too much at one time." John nodded and stared down at his hands.

"How's your dad?" Alex said tenatively after a small silence, and John rolled his eyes. "Demanding, as usual. He won't get off my back about my Law grade." He glanced at Alex, "He asked if I was over my 'Phase' yet."

"Phase?"

"Being gay."

"Oh..."

They were both quiet for a minute, then Alex opened his mouth. "I'm sorry. For, y'know, earlier. Outside of Fiction Writing."

John looked at him, "Alex, do you... Do you love me?"

Alex blushed. "Yeah. Yeah, I do, it's just...It was a little weird to hear you say that. You haven't said it before."

"I don't have to say it..."

"No!" Alex exclaimed, and John jumped a little.

"No, I like it," he said quieter, and John smiled softly before getting up to sit at his desk. Alex watched him go, watched the way the light flickered over John's shirt and freckles (Alex never knew how cute freckles could be until he met John).