John was blind. That much was clear. He was born that way, never able to see the world around him. He would never see. His family, they helped him along, took care of him and taught him new things, ways to interact and so on.
They learned quickly he hated being alone. He felt helpless, scared, he was disconnected from the world without the use of those pretty green eyes of his.
It frustrated him. Between his sight and knowing his twin sister was fine, she could see. He got into moods, where he disconnected completely. Wouldnât answer, wouldnât speak or move. It was difficult. Especially when she got to go to a normal school and he was stuck in a special school.
And his father, Henry Laurens? Henry was abusive. Pushing John around or hitting him for supposedly doing wrong. John felt scared to even address him most times. It was terrifying. He didnât know. He couldnât cover up, he couldnât hide it. His mom and sister had to help. They were angels in his mind; big, wonderful, beautiful, so gentle and sweet in handling him. But HenryâŚ
Henry was a monster. Henry was the shit of nightmares that plagued him rather constantly. Large, pitch black and looming, wings made of bone and red eyes that glared down at him, watched his every move. He had two faces. One was for appearances; sweet, kind and calm. The other was his true face. And that terrified him. Black eyes in the back of his head, a snarl of razor sharp teeth; John couldnât get a single thing past him. And that made his blindness all the more terrifying.
He hates that too; that uselessness settling deep in him, the thought taking root alongside how weak and easily scared he was. He felt lost, alone. They left him alone for a few hours on the weekend. They thought heâd be okay. He said he would be. They came home to John crying in the corner, shaking. The ten year old didnât know what to do and his twin immediately rushed over, wrapping her arms tight around him. âIâm here, Iâm here. Itâs okay, Jacky, Iâm home, Iâm with youâŚâ
It didnât take long for John to calm down and cling to his sister, gasping and whimpering. When he caught his breath, he carefully moved his hands to her cheeks. He couldnât see, but he always pictured Frances to be an angel. A beautiful freckled girl with soft brown wings on her back and a halo floating above her head all the time, treating him so lovingly and gently and sweetly. In his mind, she was the spitting image of their mother Eleanor. Fran described her once a year ago. He never forgot.
He kept his hands on her cheeks and she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, cooing about how it was okay, she was there, she wouldnât leave him alone again. Where Henry was irritated with John, where Eleanor was so worried for their son, Frances understood. She held him close, kissed his head, assured him she was there, that she wouldnât let him be alone as long as she was around, and he believed her. He knew she wouldnât lie to him. Frances meant the world to him, that much was clear.
As the years went on, John learned to navigate himself, got a stick and everything, but he refused the glasses. He didnât need anyone thinking he just wore sunglasses all the time. It took time, but with enough help and practice, John could throw quite the punch, he could protect himself when it came down to it. And thatâs how he met his best friend in college. Heâd been new to the college he got sent to in New York and where the young man couldnât see to read sections, he could listen. He learned how to slowly work around such things.
His sister Frances went with him to New York â they got all the same classes. They worked together and she helped him through it all, stuck with him through it all. They even pushed hard and got the same dorm room together â at least until he got used to working around these things on his own.
He had been wandering around campus, kind of getting used to the layout, mapping it in his head, informing this man that stopped him from walking into something that heâd been born blind. His principal Mr. Washington, heâd learned. The man was very kind about it, steering him in the direction of the dorms. John walked for around ten minutes when he stepped on something, but he paid it no mind until a voice was swearing up a storm.
âHey, asshole, you stepped on my book!â The voice huffed, and the moment a hand landed on his shoulder, John dropped his cane and had one hand on his wrist, the other on his upper arm and he flipped the guy on his stomach into the grass, a scowl on Johnâs face as he twisted his arm around his back for a moment, not enough to hurt but a warning in itself. âDonât touch me.â He said simply, no real venom in his voice.
The guy didnât say anything. Truth was, the moment John got off him and paused before reaching down in an attempt to grab his cane which took him a minute, and the guy was watching him in awe. He really didnât expect that. John carried himself with quite a bit of confidence, stopping before he fully walked away and turned his head toward where he heard the sound of him getting up and said a calm, âIâm sorry I stepped on your book, but I just so happen to be the new student and blind at that. I hope I didnât wreck it.â
Then he was off, and the man was left staring after him. That was new. John found himself at his dorms eventually, trying to think up what that man was to him now that he sent him flat on his ass. He was plain, simple, boring. He meant nothing to John â not right now anyway. It was a pain in the ass, but with some help from other students, he found his room. He didnât care about their words, about the snide comments about his blindness.
She found her way there an hour later. They both damn near screamed in their high laughter and clinging to each other in happiness at finally being away, finally getting there.
It was funny that within days, John found himself making friends with the guy he slammed into the ground â along with his two friends. He had been walking the halls when he heard a familiar voice retelling the story and two sets of deep laughter over it which put a proud smirk on his face as he walked. He brushed the guyâs shoulder, even further entertained by the horrified squawk when he realized who the guy that bumped into him was.
That was how John met Alexander, Lafayette and Hercules. It was funny, but he liked them. Within a week, he had a good, clear mental image of them. He got Frances to describe them to him and he had Alexander clear in his head, a burning passion in his eyes and a set of deep brown wings on his back, teeth bared in a mixture between a smirk and a snarl. It was strange, but it seemed almost fitting. He was an angelic lion, for sure.
Hercules, a bear; damn near black wings on his back, eyes and sweet smile full of so much love and care, arms and wings stretched for a hug, claws instead of nails. He could be so sweet and friendly, so kind and loving, but he was ready to shred anyone that touched his family.
Lafayette was harder to pin down. Deep brown wings, for sure. Big, long and elegant; ever so graceful, as he himself was; such a loving smile on his face, eyes wide and bright. What came to mind was a stallion â a centaur even, which had John in a fit of childish giggles in the middle of talking to them.
They questioned it with sweet smiles on their faces in amusement of their new companion, but John waved them off with a dumb grin and they carried on the conversation.
This carried on for months. When break rolled around, John reluctantly went home with Frances and returned a bit different than before. Something seemed off about him, but after three days of being back with his friends, he was just fine. He got along so well with them; it warmed Francesâs heart to see her brother getting on so well with someone other than her. It was no surprise when he admitted to having a crush on Alexander two months later.
If anything, she shrieked and laughed, John screeching at her to shut up, to not tell anyone or heâd have to kill her himself, which led her to teasingly giving him relationship advice and John pretending he was ignoring her â even if he was truly listening, appreciating the effort silly as it was.
Time seemed to just fly by. Days spent with his friends, laughing and smiling and them helping him learn with them, Frances spending days, weeks, months around the Schuylerâs and Aaron Burr. When she admitted to maybe â just maybe â having a crush on him, John was a bit calmer about it despite wanting to tease her and he assured her itâd be fine. She was a walking deity and she should just go for it.
When he was told to follow his own advice, he decided to do just that. Within two days after that, John was so far in love with Alexander, a slight change to their relationship. It had been a year since heâd known him, and now he was his boyfriend. Nothing changed, not really; the two were close as could be as it was. The only change was the far more obvious kisses, the whispers in affectionate tones, the little âI love youâs every chance they got suddenly.
Then one day it changed, and John wasnât sure if it was for the better, or the worst. He was leaning toward the latter â of course he was.
He was sitting at the park with the three, the four of them all going over text books and jokingly chatting away as the sun shined down on them, big grins on everyoneâs faces. Of course Alex and John kept flirting back and forth occasionally; Alex better at it than John â hell, even giving him tips which had them all laughing, but Laf and Herc couldnât judge seeing as they were doing the exact same thing.
It was a day John wanted to remember forever; sitting by the fountain with them studying, laughing, and learning each other more and more.
Then it changed. He felt a hand on his shoulder, heard the guysâ confusion and he just shrugged it off, told the guy to buzz off. Then a voice reached his ears and John paled. Suddenly all he could see was a monster. Razor teeth, black eyes, bone wings and a violent whirlwind fury that terrified everyone.
A scream ripped from his throat, hands dropping his book and suddenly he was being pulled away, arms wrapping tight around him, voices talking so softly to him. Laf and Herc. They were trying to comfort and soothe him, to calm him from the crying he realized he was doing. He gasped and whimpered, pleaded to know what the fuck happened.
Alex decked Henry altogether, he learned. That warmed Johnâs heart, honestly. To them, this random man scared the shit out of him and Alex chose to deck him. He loved Alexander so much, and he made a mental note to tell him when this chaos was over. When he stopped crying and they had a moment to themselves.
For now, Alex found himself at Johnâs side again, all three working to soothe him as the man â his father â got over his shock about his black eye. Donât let him near me, John sobbed, pleaded. Make him go away, please, fuck, please; I donât want to see him!
Lafayette held John close on his lap, Hercules on one side and Alexander on the other. They kept asking, over and over, whatâs wrong, who is he, and we wonât let him near you. John kept bawling, wheezing, gasping for breath as Hercules and Alex kissed both his cheeks, Lafayette pressing a kiss to the back of his head. Weâve got you, mon bĂŠbĂŠ. We have you, youâre safe, he wonât lay a hand on you, just breathe, my love.
Then John said something that made them realize. Made them understand. Heâs my dad oh god heâs a monster get him away donât let him hurt me please- John kept pleading and crying, clinging to them tighter. Alex got up again, John crying out for him but the two hushed him, soothed him as Alexander went and punched him yet again.
Then two hours later, he found himself back in his dorm room, cuddled up on his somewhat small bed with them. He was lying on top of Hercules, Lafayette curled into Hercâs side with one arm draped over John, the other tucked to his chest. Alexander was on his other side, in much the same position with an arm draped over John. They ended up falling asleep like that despite the slight discomfort.
When he awoke by himself, he heard Alex, Laf and Herc on the floor chuckling, whispering, playing fucking cards like it was so normal, and what caught his attention after were the arms around his waist he felt. He quickly relaxed into it and sighed happily however. That drew their attention but all they did was smile and get back to their game.
Behind him was Frances, curled up against him, arms wound tight around his waist and face nuzzled against his neck. When he breathed her name, he himself smiled at the smile he felt form against his back, her voice oh so softly responding. He didnât need their father â neither of them did.
He didnât need any of it and he didnât need to hang onto monsters like that when he had people like this in his life. And that mental image was the best. Of being curled up against that large bear like angel, the graceful stallion and the passionate lion on either side with his sweet angel in front of him, lips pressed to his forehead assuring him sheâd be there no matter what.
