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John Laurens couldn’t sleep.
He’d counted sheep. He’d grabbed more blankets from the closet, then flung them all off his bed. He’d flopped over, and twisted, and turned, and tangled his legs until he’d fallen off the bed with a slight yell of frustration. He’d changed his pajamas once, and then again. But here he was at two in the goddamn morning, still awake and slightly flushed with anger, scowling at the ceiling fan in defeat.
John knew why he couldn’t sleep. He just didn’t want to admit it.
But all the same, his thoughts inevitably wandered back to the fight with Alex, still fresh in his mind after almost 48 hours.
“You don’t care about anyone anymore!” John yelled, flinging his hands into the air. “You haven’t been out with us in weeks. With me. You come in after I’m asleep and I don’t even see you in the morning because you’re up so fucking early. We haven’t even eaten a meal together in three days.” He whirled around to jab Alex in the chest. “Three days, Alex!”
Alex Hamilton stepped back, putting his hand almost defensively on top of the stack of class notes and rough drafts he had been poring over for the past hour. “You don’t get it!” He snapped back at John. “I can’t do badly in these classes! I’m studying to make it! You’re getting on me for what, having to work to keep my scholarship? Taking a little extra time?”
“ You’re not failing your fucking classes!” cried John. “You have some of the highest grades on campus! You could try to throw the class on purpose, and these professors would still love you!” He grabbed his hair with both hands, inhaling sharply. “Just slow down a little! Take a break! It’s like I never see you anymore!” He paused. “Actually, scratch that. I never do see you anymore.”
Alex scowled darkly. “You know I do this for you, right?” he shot. “I try to do this so I can provide for us - for YOU - and we don’t have to swim in debt and we can live a good life. This is for you!”
“ You wanna do something for me, Alex?” John said, quietly. “Come back. Pay attention to me. Actually be,” he raised his voice, “in a fucking relationship with me. Because right now, it feels like there isn’t ANY sort of relationship here!”
“ Then maybe there shouldn’t be!” yelled Alex.
“Fine!” hollered John. “Go back and live in your fucking dorm by yourself and study until you fall apart! You obviously won’t notice if I’m not there.”
“ Fine!”
John groaned and rolled over, burying his face in his pillow. It didn’t even smell like Alex. Alex had grabbed all his sheets and his stuff and been out the door in fifteen minutes. John hadn’t said goodbye.
He also hadn’t slept since Alex had left.
He and Alex had been dating for almost a year at that point, and it had been like heaven in three rooms; John loved him, loved him like he’d never loved anyone in his life. But Alex had gotten into grad school on a full scholarship, and the work around midterms had consumed him to a point where John didn’t recognize him anymore. Hell, half the time John didn’t even see him.
The only issue now was that John had gotten so used to sleeping next to Alex that he literally couldn’t sleep without him.
You’re not calling him, John, he thought to himself. This wasn’t your fault. It’s him. It’s him it’s him you don’t need him you don’t you don’t you need him.
John considered briefly calling up Laf, but he didn’t want to bother the guy. He was just rolling over to try and make a futile attempt at sleeping when he heard a determined knock on his apartment door.
“What the fuck?” he muttered weakly to himself, willing himself to stumble out of bed and towards the door. Maybe it was Laf; his friend did have a weird sleep schedule, like he was still in a different time zone. Or maybe it was Jefferson, who liked clubbing and had probably lost his house key at some bar.
Whoever John was expecting it to be, it definitely wasn’t Alex Hamilton, standing on his doormat wearing flannel pajama pants and wrapped in a duvet, looking ashamed and rumpled and incredibly, pitifully exhausted.
Before John could open his mouth or even form a coherent thought, Alex spoke.
“I can’t sleep,” he said, clutching his blanket around his shoulders and meeting John’s eyes. “I know it’s my fault and I fucked up and I’ve been neglecting you and you’re the best thing to ever happen to me so you can send me away if you want but I haven’t slept since I left here and I literally can’t sleep without you and I miss you and I’m so fucking sorry, I was an idiot--”
John grabbed Alex by one shoulder and yanked him into a hug, burying his face in Alex’s hair and shuddering as he inhaled the smell of his shampoo and his mind seemed to say, that’s what you’ve been missing.
Alex fisted his hands in John’s t-shirt and buried his face in his neck, sniffling a little. “I’m sorry,” he whispered again.
“I missed you so fucking much,” John mumbled into Alex’s hair. “I haven’t slept either, I can’t sleep alone, I’m so glad you’re back I missed you I love you.”
Alex turned to look at John and kissed him, neither loosening their grip on the other. He rested their foreheads together. “I love you too,” he murmured. “And I’d love to stand here and hug you forever, but I’m really fucking tired, and now that we can probably both sleep again --”
John laughed quietly. “Okay, okay, c’mon.”
They collapse together onto John’s bed, tangling naturally, limbs linking together, soft breaths. John gazes up at the ceiling fan once again, but this time with Alex draped half on top of him, warm and solid and tangible. Sure. One of the only truths John knows in this life. Alexalexalexalexalex.
He throws an arm over Alex and lets his eyes slip closed.
“Night, Alex.” A pause. “I love you.”
Alex hums. “Love you.” Another pause, comfortable silence. “Always.”
And John knows that in the morning they’ll have to talk, and that midterms will still be there. But he knows they’ll have each other. That’s more than enough.