Movies always depicted a car collision in slow motion— or they would speed it up into an indiscernible blur.
It was neither for John.
It was a sudden, flinching moment. Yet, he saw it so much... Slower. It had stretched on into an eternity.
•
The stay at the hospital had also stretched into an eternity. John found himself wishing people would stop apologising. He wasn't dead, nor was it their fault.
And then he had walked in.
A memory floated to the surface of John's mind, but was snatched down into the blurry depths of uncertainty.
"Do you remember me?"
The man had an odd accent, not quite American. Inky eyes gazed desperately at John and he felt as if he was on the brink of falling. Falling where?
He didn't want to disappoint this stranger, with his tanned skin and ebony hair, but...
"I- I don't recognise... I don't know who you are..."
His voice was halting, hesitant.
"The doctors said you mightn't," The mystery acquaintance tried for a reassuring smile, though it was tight lipped and wobbly.
"I-I'll leave you alone. I'm Alexander Hamilton, by the way."
He didn't say 'in case that helps', but it was definitely hovering in the air.
John could only nod, watching as Alexander took a double take at something sitting by his bed. He soundlessly picked it up, turning it over in his hands.
"This is mine— you don't mind if I take it back?"
"It's yours."
John's curiosity was piqued, but Alexander offered no explanation as to why a ring had been by John's hospital bed.
Perhaps John shouldn't want to know.
And, as Alexander left, an odd emptiness settled on his heart.
•.
John sometimes wondered if this was fate getting back at him.
He sometimes wondered why it was him that was cursed to endure such changes in events.
He never wondered about Alexander again.
Why?
Because John had remembered. It had taken therapy, and a lot of frustration, but the elusive recollections had been stolen back.
How ironic, how unfair, that they should return on Alexander's wedding day.
And he wasn't getting married to John.
The curly haired man swallowed a lump in his throat.
Alex... Alex deserved this happiness. He deserved a healthy relationship.
John didn't blame Alex for falling out of love with him.
Why pine over lost time?
Resentment flared up, but John pushed it down.
He had no right to Alex, no right to scream that he remembered, and, god, he loved Alexander so much that it physically ached.
He loved his laugh, his smile, his sarcastic humour. He loved the way Alex talked about something that mattered to him.
And, right now, Eliza mattered.
John hated it.
Did he hate Eliza? No.
So, John Laurens stayed silent.
Helpless.
YOU ARE READING
Hamilton Oneshots
Fanfiction《there's only so much ideas a person can have without writing them all down》 Alternatively: Watch as J comes up with oneshots with varying creativity.
