#iamanoriginal

You had been assigned to a battalion with other boys your age, supervised by Lieutenant-Colonel Hamilton. However, you quickly proved to be a strong soldier, climbing up to Hamilton’s second in command. It was a great honor, but sometimes you felt like you were a glorified secretary.

“Lieutenant L/N!” A booming voice echoed over the camp. You jumped, quickly heading towards the Colonel’s tent. Your official title was Lieutenant, but you were basically the Aide-de-camp. A breath escaped your lips as you sighed, ready to face Hamilton. You entered the tent.

It was like a temporary office. A desk was set up, letters and documents scattered atop. A lamp stood to the side, lighting up the rather dreary place. Hamilton sat at his desk, jotting out a letter. You stood at attention, waiting to be acknowledged. After a minute or two, the brisk Colonel signed his name, sealing the letter in an envelope. Great. Another delivery job.

“You are to deliver this to a colleague of mine, Hercules Mulligan. He is a spy for our army, but this morning I received word that the British have suspected him, and they intend to arrest him at dusk tomorrow. You must deliver this letter before Mulligan’s arrest, and escort him back to camp. We will be leaving for Yorktown tomorrow thanks to our latest letter from Mulligan. Meet us there. If we win, the war may end. But that is a low chance. We will see you then. Good luck, and please hurry. Mulligan is one of my closest friends.”

With that, Colonel Hamilton left the tent, leaving you standing still in his office. It was a shock. You had never received a bigger mission. You quickly shook it off, leaving the tent, heading back to your own. You ducked inside, grabbing a small bag and filling it with your essentials. A roll of cotton, a small knife in case something were to happen with your gun, extra rations, and some bullets.

As soon as you were done, you swiftly left your tent, jumping on your midnight stallion, Oak, flicking the reins and racing out of camp. You had specifically trained Oak for speed, so you were traveling at a strong thirty-five miles per hour. It would take about fifteen hours to get to New York City, with very little time to spare. You had to be fast.

It was nearly dusk, New York City fast approaching. You were still on the outskirts of town, and Mulligan’s shop was all the way in the wealthier part of town. It was strange, being home. You had grown up in the city, your father owning a bakery, selling fresh bread every morning. It felt nostalgic being on the same streets. The nostalgia was tinted with darkness, however, as the last conversation you had with your father ended with you running away to join the Continental Army.

As you finally turned onto the street where the shop was located, you quickly noticed many British soldiers heading the opposite way, straight towards the shop.  You flicked your horse’s reins, thundering down the cobblestone street. You slowed down and jumped off Oak, leaving him on the street as you quickly walked inside, just in front of the British men.

A man looked up, standing behind a counter. You heard the British men enter behind you. Now you had to quickly figure out a way to get the two of you alone.

“Hi, how can I help you?” Hercules asked as you approached the counter.

“Hi, yes. I would, uh, like to request a fitting, please,” You managed, voice cracking under the pressure. The taller Patriot raised an eyebrow, confused, but nodded.

“Sure, come on back. I’ll be right with you, gentlemen,” he nodded towards the soldiers, gesturing for you to follow him. He led you through a curtain hanging through and empty doorway, back past other rooms, and eventually turned into a small room. “Strip, and we can begin.”

“Sir, I am not here for a fitting. I bring a letter from Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton. It is imperative that it be read immediately,” You managed, fishing the letter from your bag. You handed it to him.

Hercules took the letter, quickly opening and reading it intently. After a minute, he turned and looked up at you. “So I’m assuming you’re Lieutenant L/N?” You nodded.

“Great. Let’s go out back. I’ll wait there, you grab your horse and pick me up, then we can leave. I know a stable outside of town where I can I get my own steed,” he explained, as he led you out of the room and down the hallway. He opened a door, leading you out into a deep alleyway.

“Of course, Mr. Mulligan,” You replied turning to walk down the alley to the front of the store.

“Hercules is fine!” He yelled after you. You widened your eyes. You had expected some serious egotistical asshole who demanded the utmost respect, but Hercules was surprisingly nice.

You rounded the corner, seeing now even more British soldiers crowded around the shop. Anxiety punched you in the stomach. You awkwardly approached, grabbing the reins of Oak, walking it away from the scene, trying to act casual. As soon as you reached the corner, you hopped on. As you were about to flick the reins when you heard a quick shout. You turned, seeing the group of soldiers running towards you. Shit. You flicked the reins as hard as you could, thunder echoing off the sides of the buildings as Oak sprinted towards the door where Hercules was waiting.

You reached out your hand, trying not to slow down so you could outrun the men. Hercules reached up as you neared, grabbing your hand as you tried to pull him up. He pulled up using his foot, sitting comfortably behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, securing himself from falling off. You broke out into the street, civilians scattering and shouting in fear. You continued on, however, some of the British had acquired their own horses and were beginning to catch up to you, as Oak had been running for hours already.

“Do you have anything to slow them down?” Hercules yelled over the loudness around you.

“Yeah, there’s a pistol in my side bag!” You yelled back, trying to maneuver around people still in the street. You felt Herc reach down, opening the bag and trying to find the pistol. The bag closed.

Suddenly, multiple gunshots rang out. You heard things crashing, catastrophe behind you. A few bullets whizzed by your face, nearly missing you. You were nearing the edge of town, the line of trees of the forest in sight. You just had to make it there, and you would be safe. Hercules kept firing, reloading with the spare bullets you had. You were about 100 feet away from the trees at this point. You should have been clear.

Herc turned back towards you as he fired one last shot. “Got him, L/N! We should be s-”

He was cut off by your scream in pain as a bullet pierced your arm. You lost control of Oak, slumping back into Hercules.

Sunlight blinded you the second you opened your eyes. You let out a groan in protest, trying to turn over, but a sharp pain stopped you. You fully opened your eyes, sitting up. You had been laying on a makeshift blanket made of the cloth from your bag. You turned to look at your arm, noticing more of your cloth wrapped harshly around your upper arm, tight enough to stop the bleeding.

“Awake? That was fast.”

You whipped around staring up at Herc as he walked into the clearing you were in. He seemed different, a bit concerned. “How long have I been out?

“Since yesterday evening. But that’s not what I’m concerned about. You have breasts.”

Fuck. “I had to remove your shirt inspect the wound after we stopped here. The British shouldn’t find us here. Your horse is tied up down a ways near the river so he can drink. Now. How and why are you in the Continental Army?”

Why was he even asking you this? He was just going to get you kicked out anyways. It was pointless. You looked away, staring at the trees that surrounded the clearing. The late-summer breeze felt nice against your skin. It reminded you of home.

Herc must have noticed that something was wrong. He sat down next to you.

“Hey,” he whispered, smiling at you. “It’s okay. I won’t report you if you don’t want me to.”

You turned. “Really? You don’t think I’m some damsel in distress, waiting to get picked up by a handsome war hero? That’s pretty different compared to what other men would think.”

“Well, maybe I’m not like other men. And you’re not like most women, charging through Manhattan to save my life.” Hercules grinned at you.

“I guess that means we’re pretty similar, in the fact that we’re different from everyone else,” You noted, turning to hide your wide smile. Hercules grabbed your chin, gently turning you back around to look at him.

“Hey. Don’t look away. You have a very pretty smile. It compliments your eyes. I know the perfect gown that would make you look stunning,” Hercules flirted, pushing a small strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to flirt with your escort.” You chimed, grinning as you felt yourself subconsciously leaning in. Hercules did the same, your lips meeting in the middle.

It only lasted seconds, but it felt like an entire lifetime had passed when you pulled apart.

“That was amazing,” Hercules breathed. “I’ve wanted to do that since you walked into the shop.”

You nodded, standing. “I feel the same. Shall we carry on, Hercules?”

“Of course, Miss…”

“Y/N,” You finished for him.

Your coworker, Hercules Mulligan, stood there. Apron on, he was showing his 7th graders how to make pies for their labs tomorrow. He glanced up at you and grinned. “Hello, Ms. L/N. Could you do me a favor and give this to Mr. Jefferson? It’s for his class,” he questioned, pulling a colonial uniform from behind his desk. You nodded.

“Sure thing. Smells great in here.” You took the uniform from him. You went back on your way, quickly arriving at the lounge.

Your fellow 8th grade teachers milled about. Eliza and Alex, the English and Science teachers respectively, were in a corner, eating lunch together. The newly-wed couple were still in their honeymoon phase, and it was extremely adorable. John and Thomas, the Math and History teachers, sat together, discussing lesson plans. You set the uniform down in front of them. Thomas quickly thanked you and returned to his conversation.

You turned around, headed towards the fridge. Angelica, the choir teacher, stood there. She was hanging up a sheet.

“Hey Y/N! I have the club sponsor sign up sheet. Take your pick. You can sign up for two if you want,” she spoke before walking away to sit with Peggy, the choir student teacher. You scanned over the club sheet, deciding to just pick one out later. You opened the fridge, reaching in for your lunch. You grabbed your sandwich, but there was something you couldn’t find. Your cupcake.

Your boyfriend, Laf, who happened to teach French I, had taken you out to dinner the night before. You had gotten cupcakes on the way home, and you had opted to take yours for lunch. And you knew exactly who had taken it.

You stormed out of the teachers’ lounge, headed straight for the language corner. It was the corner where the 7th and 8th grade hallways converged, and it happened to be where all 3 foreign language classes were held. You knocked harshly on the door. Laf didn’t teach 7th grade, so he had the same lunch as you. Something along the lines of ‘come in’ was heard.

Fuming, you opened the door. Laf sat at his desk, smiling at you innocently. “Salut, mon amour. Quoi de neuf?” He grinned at you.

“You know exactly what’s up. Where is it?”

“Aw, mon ami. You will have to be more specific. Where is what?” He was trying so hard not to snicker; you could see it in his face.

“My cupcake.”

“You mean.. This?” he asked, reaching under his desk, pulling up a cupcake wrapper.

You sighed half-heartedly, rolling your eyes. “Yes. That.”

“Oops. I ate it, mon amour. How about you come over here and I give you a taste of what’s left?” he asked, winking at you.

“Tempting, but no. I have to go eat what’s left of my lunch. We have like 15 minutes until break’s over,” you replied, stifling your laughter as you flipped Laf off before leaving the room to finish your lunch in the lounge.

“Alright, class. Today, you will continue working on your self-portraits. I’ll walk around, let me know if you need help,” you spoke out loud to the class. You began walking around the room, stopping and talking to each individual kid about their piece. It was your format, you wanted to give each kid your undivided attention at least once a day.  Eventually, you arrived at a table in the back.

“For real? A 100? You’re joking. I got a 63. I think Lafayette’s out to get me. That, or I’m just shit at fren- oh.. Hey, Ms. L/N.. You totally didn’t hear that, did you?” One of your students spoke before looking up at you, half-smiling.

You grinned at the kid, an idea popping in your head. Laf was very adamant when it came to his supplies turning up missing. “I’m a bit mad at Laf at the moment, so I’ll let it go if you do me a favor. Take his Post-It Notes.” You grabbed a Post-It Note from your desk, scribbling a message along the lines of ‘fuck you’ and returned it to the kid. “Leave this in its place.”

The kid nodded, promising he would do it next period when he had French.

Little did you know, you had no idea what you were getting yourself into.

When you walked into your room the next morning, you were expecting to set your stuff down and prep lesson plans for the day, but that is not in fact what happened. Your entire room was covered in toilet paper from head to toe. It was wrapped around your desk, on the cabinets, it was even hanging from the rafters. You walked through the mess, dropping your bag down by your desk. You had a planning period 1st period, so you would spend that time cleaning up. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a bright Post-It Note stuck to your chair. You grab it, quickly reading it.

You really thought I wouldn’t know it was you who took my Post-It Notes? I asked Mulligan to do this for me after we left yesterday. Thank him. I expect new Post-It Notes soon. See you at lunch, mon amour. - Laf

You sighed, wanting to be angry, but you could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks. The bell rang, and seconds later, your student aide came walking through the door.

“Good morning Ms. L/N, what do you want- whoa. What happened here?” She asked, eyes widening as she saw the mess.

“Mr. Lafayette happened. I think I have an idea, however, but help me clean this up first.”

Laf returned from the lounge after his lunch break, he had a break in grading papers so he decided to come eat with you in the lounge. He had picked you up from your room and dropped you off, so he was not expecting for you to have done anything.

He gasped as he entered the room. You had gotten him his Post-It Notes. Not in the way he had expected.

Everything was labeled by Post-It Notes. His desk, the whiteboard, each book on his shelf, each pen in his cup. Each desk, each chair, all 4 walls. He turned around ready to storm your room and confront you. A single Post-It Note stuck to the door.

I hope this number of post it notes was satisfactory. Let me know if you need anything else! See you after work. - Y/N

This continued for the rest of the week, a new prank each day, each signed with Post-It. Both the rest of the staff and most of your students had picked up on it as well. Even Mr. Washington, the principal, had joked about it during a staff meeting. Your personal favorite was when students had volunteered to throw water balloons at Laf, and he had arrived home soaked to the bone.

It was Friday, which meant it was the first club day. You had chosen to sponsor dodgeball club. After 7th period, you quickly changed into something a little more athletic before heading to the small gym. As you walked in, you were bombarded by dodgeballs. You caught one in your hand. It had a Post-It Note on it.

Truce? I’d rather not have paint dumped on me. - Laf

You looked up to see a group of about 15 kids, all standing in front of Laf.

“Very good, class. That was the first tactic, surprise. Now, let’s divide into teams and play a match!” he yelled out, grinning at you. The kids began to divide themselves up as Laf walked over to you.

“Surprise, mon amour. I’m the other sponsor. Do we have a truce?”

You grinned. “Sure.”

“I have a present for you when we get home. I got some more of those cupcakes.”

You glanced up at him, smiling. “Did you now? Are you going to eat them all yourself?”

He grinned at you. “No, I might need some help from you,” he quipped before pulling you into a sweet kiss.

You stayed there for a few good seconds before you remembered you had students. You quickly pulled away, turning towards the kids, who were all staring at you. You clapped your hands together.

Times Square, directly across from where the Queen would be delivering a speech in two day’s time. Security would be everywhere, and you had to create a message for the Queen to see. A message for Parliment to see. A message for everyone to see.

“If you accept, Y/N, Diggs will lead you. If the mission goes well, you may be able to take on more fieldwork. I think this will be a good experience to have,” Lin spoke, glancing up at you in the cafe. You were curious as to why he would accompany you to lunch, and now you knew why.

“But sir. This is such an imperative and important mission. Are you sure you want a first timer to take the job?” You asked, unsure. You had always worked on the inside of jobs, drafting sketches or writing out plans.

“I trust Diggs to take care of you two if anything happens. You can learn from him. Besides, aren’t you two a thing? I thought you would like this.”

True; you and Daveed Diggs, a fellow member of the rebellion, had been dating for almost two years now. But you didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I just don’t want to compromise the mission.”

“You won’t. Please take the job, Y/N.”   

“..Fine.”

“Great! Here are the details, good luck!”

That night, Daveed came home with Chinese takeout. You walked into your shared living room, smiling at him.

“Wow, Chinese? What’s the occasion?” You asked, hugging him as he led you to the couch. You sat down.

“You. Me. Field mission. This, my love, is going to be spectacular. We get to tag something that will be on international television! The stories are going to be insane. Those Parliment members won’t know what hit them. Bastards.”

You had nothing against the Queen. None of the Rebellion did. She was the mascot of it all, Parliament the masters behind it all. They were the ones who taxed you, restricted your freedom, your speech. You weren’t allowed to speak against the government, doing so could result in jail time. They taxed you, let their troops attack you. It was tyranny. And you wanted to be free.

“Hey, are you alright? You seem off,” Daveed asked, glancing up from where he was opening the Chinese. He stopped, sitting down next to you.

“I guess. I just don’t want to fuck up the mission,” You replied, trying to convey your doubt. He snorted, pulling you into his chest.

“You won’t ‘fuck up’. You’ll do great, babygirl.” He used air quotes around your phrasing, rolling his eyes. “I’ll protect you if anything goes wrong. You can do this,” He reassured you, hugging you tight. You smiled.

“Love you, D.”

“ I love you too. Never forget that. Now, where were we? Do you orange chicken or mandarin chicken?”

A knock came to your door. Your heart stopped momentarily before you realized it was Daveed. 

“Come in!” You called out, pulling on your black hoodie. Daveed entered the room, wearing very similar garb.  Black leggings, a hoodie, bandana tied around your neck. It was one am, so you needed to be as concealed as possible. He handed you a gray backpack and you pulled it on.

“Ready?” He asked, smiling gently at you. You took a deep breath, nodding.

“Yeah.”

“You’ll do good. If you ever don’t know what to do, just follow my lead. We’d better leave, the subway leaves soon. 20 minutes.” he spoke, glancing at his phone. You nodded, following him out the door.

One lengthy subway ride later, you stood in front of the back entrance to some random business building in Times Square. You had one goal. The roof. A billboard stood on top, and you and Daveed had the intention to mark it. The queen would be in the square the next morning, and you hoped she would see it. Daveed picked the lock quickly, opening the door open for you. You smiled, entering the office building, Daveed behind you. You made it to the elevator. Daveed hit the button for the top floor whilst you adjusted your gloves.

Your heart sped up rapidly. You had never a job this serious and dangerous. If caught, the punishment would be death because of the context and location of your tag. Daveed put a hand on your shoulder, rubbing it slowly. “It’ll be okay. You can do this. We can do this.”

You arrived at the top floor, exiting quickly and heading towards the end of the hallway, following Daveed as he knew where to go. You reached a door at the end of the hallway. Daveed opened it, ushering you inside before following you inside. You were at a set of stairs. You quickly climb the stairs.  

The wind rushes against your exposed skin as you open the door to the roof. You take a deep breath before walking over to the billboard. You pulled your bandana up to cover your nose before opening up your bag, grabbing a can of bright red spray paint. You looked towards Daveed.

“Go for it. Just imagine her face when she gives the speech,” he encouraged. You smiled, looking up at the billboard as Daveed pulls his own bandana up. You let out a quick test spray, the bright red coating the white background. You begin your design. You work quickly yet elegantly, trying to make your words legible. Barely 5 minutes pass, and you’re already almost done. You look back at Daveed.

    “Do you want to tag it, Diggs? I feel like you should do something.”

He nods. “Sure.” He takes the can from your hand, signing with the tag of the rebellion.

“Looks good. Now all we have to do is raise the design higher. Here, do you know how?” Daveed asks you. You shake your head.

“Nope. Can you teach me?” You ask. He nods, gesturing for you to follow him. You do so, following him behind the billboard.

“It’s like a pulley,” he started, placing his hands on top of your own, guiding them to the ropes. “First, you have to untie the kn-”

The door to the roof slammed open. Shit. Shit. Daveed froze, before kicking into action mode. He grabbed your hand, turning towards the short rooftop building’s backside. He guided you towards and indent in the wall which led to a very small space. Daveed stood against the wall, pulling your frame into his chest.

You could hear footsteps paired with a faint whistle before a radio came on. “Everything good up there, George?”

“It’s fine, John. We’re all good. Who would be dumb enough to try and sneak in the morning of the big speech? Let me just finish my rounds, and I’ll come back in. It’s fucking cold up here,” A deep, mellow voice replied. The footsteps came closer.

Daveed’s chest rose and fell behind you. His breaths were silent but staggered. He was nervous.  As the guard was nearly on top of you now, he brought you in closer, squeezing you tight. You melted back into him, breathing out contently. The footsteps stopped. “Who’s there?” Fuck.

You froze. Daveed did as well. “Is anyone there? Show yourself!” It was silent for a good 30 seconds. Eventually, the guard moved on. He made a few more rounds before heading towards the door. “Yeah, yeah John. I’m coming back. Nothing to report.” The door slammed.

You waited a good minute; when the guard didn’t return, you let out a great sigh of relief. Daveed did as well before letting out a chuckle. You stepped out of the small nook, blushing furiously.

“Way to go, babygirl. You almost got us caught.” He smirked at you before pulling you in for a quick kiss. You rolled your eyes, smiling into the kiss.

“I know. My bad. Let’s finish and get out of here,” You replied before heading over to the ropes behind the billboard. Daveed did it quickly, saying you could learn later.

“I’m surprised; did he not notice the graffiti?” You asked as he pulled down on the rope, raising the sign higher so it could be seen from all of Times Square.

“He sounded like he didn’t care. He either didn’t look up or didn’t give a shit. He sounded more afraid than brave when he called out for us. Ready to go?” Daveed asked, tying a final knot to secure the whole thing. You nodded.

“Did I do a good job?” You asked as you walked towards the edge of the building, pulling out some rope from your bag so you could get down. Daveed grinned at you as he attached the carabiners to some pipeline that was exposed.

“I may be biased, put you did pretty good, I just have to watch where I put my hands next time,” he grinned, winking at you. You rolled your eyes, grabbing onto the rope that was now hooked to your waist. Daveed held out his hand, which you accepted. He pulled you into his chest.

“This is the best part. You ready?” he asked. You barely had a chance to nod before he jumped from the building. You let out a quick scream before Daveed covered your mouth. You slowed from your fall, the two of you touching the ground gently.

“Ready to go, babygirl?” he asked, smiling at you. You nodded, following him down the alley.

A few hours later, as the sun rose, shining over the crowd, Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II took the stage. She was growing old, and today was the day she would give her last speech in the colonies before she returned to England to spend her last years. As she looked up, bright red caught her attention. A billboard, tagged with spray paint. It said one thing.

“Oh. I can cancel, and we can just go to bed ear-” Alex attempted to reason, but you cut him off. You knew he had been looking forward to this all week.

“It’s fine. You’ve been looking forward to this all week. Laf was telling me yesterday how excited he was to play. I’m just gonna take my meds and head to bed. Maybe read a book,” You replied, setting your bag down on the couch.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to be-”

“I insist. It’s fine. You need to unwind.”

“Y/N, I know other ways we can unwind,” Alex stifles a laugh, smirking at you. Your face turns cherry red.

“Not like that. I’m going to lay down. I’ll probably be up when you come to bed. I just can’t handle the noise.”

You could tell Alex was worried, but he nodded regardless. “Feel better.”

“No! Fuck you, Laurens!” Alexander’s voice rang out through the apartment. You winced. You had stopped reading your book, but couldn’t sleep.

  Loud noises were always hard for you. Before Alex, you were in a pretty abusive relationship. Alex, your best friend at the time, supported you and let you crash at his place after you thankfully got out of that relationship. Now, over two years later, you were dating, and had been for about 6 months. However, you still got extremely anxious at certain loud noises. Doors slamming, yelling, glass breaking; it all scared the shit out of you. You would go into full defense mode and practically shut off.

  You were very tense, lying in bed. You were curled into a fetal position, attempting to make yourself smaller.  Flashbacks echoed in your mind. You could hear him yelling at you.

“Whatever, I’ll get you next time, Laurens. See you three tomorrow! I’ll try to get Y/N to come. Hopefully they’ll be better.”

  Your eyes were shut hard. You barely heard the front door close. Soon enough, the door to the bedroom opened.

    “Y/N? Are you still up- fuck.” You heard the door shut gently. Alex quickly yet quietly changed out of his jeans and into boxers. He climbed into bed, sitting up behind you.

“Hey. Do you want to talk about it?” Alex asked you quietly. You shook your head.

“Sorry. We can j-just go to sleep,” you whispered. You didn’t want him to see you like this.

“No. You shouldn’t apologize. I want to apologize. I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I should have canceled game night. John won, and I just went off yelling. I didn’t think you could hear us from back here,” he whispered gently in your ear.

“It’s fine. I shouldn’t be overreacting like this.” You felt afraid. But you didn’t think that shouldn’t limit Alex’s fun.

“Bullshit. This is a perfectly natural reaction based on that shit you had to go through. You’re entitled to your feelings. Here. Can I show you something?” Alex asked you. You had turned and looked up at him at this point. You nodded. “Great. Lay out.” You did so.

Alex climbed over you, supporting himself on his legs and elbows. He made sure not to touch you. “Close your eyes. Trust me.” Taking deep breaths, you did.

Hands ran down your sides. Alex pulled down your shirt, leaning closer. He kissed along your collarbone. It felt nice. You breathed out slightly. He moved up, lining your jaw with his lips. He moved up more, kissing your forehead. Warmth fluttered in your stomach. You began to feel a bit better. Then he stopped. You couldn’t tell where he was. You shut your eyes tighter. Before you knew it, Alex’s lips met yours. You kissed back. You calmed down. You felt loved.

You heard Alex roll off you, landing next to you. He turned over, pulling you into his chest. You slunk back, looking up at him.

“I love you. Don’t ever forget that. I will never hurt you like that douchebag. That wasn’t love. I want you to know that you can trust me,” Alex whispers into your hair.