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hamimagines · 7 years

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Jilted Part Two (John Laurens x Reader)

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Warnings- This fic is extremely triggering. There is major angst and anger. There’s violence. There is hella drinking. There’s sorta self harmish vibes. There’s rape. There’s cheating. There’s a thousand swear words.

A/N- ( Boyo am I sorry)

Song- Space -- Ally Hills

Words- 6,615

What does someone do when their world crashes around them? When life throws punches at them while their hands are tied behind their back? Do they break so entirely that they don’t think they’ll ever be whole again? It’s nice to think that you could never let one person or their actions affect you so deeply, but it’s never quite that easy, is it?

You spent the following weeks at Hercules’ small estate that his grandfather had left him. It appeared improper perhaps, to be living with another man when most weren’t even aware you had broken your engagement. But you didn’t want to face the humiliation and questions of your parents, and you felt like you had no one else to turn to.

For the first few days after John’s infidelity, you couldn’t even be properly upset. There was too much confusion and embarrassment. It hung over you like a cloud. If life were given a color, yours would be a muddy brown, like a farm lake. The water is clear when you bring a portion of it close to your face, but in the grand scheme of things, it was just fucked up mess of shit and everyone else’s dirt. It would never truly be clear.

You just wanted to analyze everything. Your mind told you that if John wanted you, then he would be with you, and if he didn’t want you, he wouldn’t. It had never crossed your mind that there could be some sort of in-between state. There couldn’t be. It didn’t make sense. Therefore, he simply didn’t want you. But that didn’t make sense either. He had been so convincing when he told you he loved you, told you that you were beautiful, that you were everything to him. You knew what John looked like when he lied, and he hadn’t been lying when he said he loved you. A phantom of his hands still lingered on your arms, your waist, your thighs. You didn’t understand how all of that was just a stupid fucking lie.

What does someone do when their world crashes around them?

Then came the anger about a week in. Hercules practically had to chain you down during that period. By this point, John had made a habit of coming to see you, but Hercules told him it’d be better if you both stayed away from each other for awhile. At first, you’d insisted that you didn’t want to see him, but then, all you wanted to do was tear out his throat. Adrenaline coursed through you; day and night your heart beat erratically. He had been your everything, and you were what? Nothing. You were nothing to him. It made you sick. All you wanted to do was to make him feel the pain that you felt when you saw him with his hands wrapped so tightly around your best friend’s waist. He probably left bruises. They must have been there for days after. Your stomach churned at the thought.

When life throws punches at them while their hands are tied behind their back?

Though the worst part by far was when you saw him again. He must have planned it so perfectly. It was no coincidence that he appeared the first time you were completely alone since the night before your wedding day. Hercules had gone to deliver some swatches, and you’d persuaded him to leave without calling someone to stay with you.

John must have been waiting outside, or maybe someone told him that Herc was gone, because not long after Hercules shut the door, it opened again. With no knock and no warning, John Laurens stumbled into your room and back into your life. There he stood before you, looking like a tornado had torn through his soul.

“You have to listen to me.”

You took a step back and dropped the needlework you’d been doing. “I don’t have to do anything.”

“No I- that’s not.” He fisted his hands in his hair and let out a frustrated sound. His stature was slightly off, and his shirt was dirty and only done up halfway.

“My god, Jonathan. Are you drunk right now?” You took another step away from him, but he only followed you.

“I miss you so much, Y/N.” He glanced up at you.

Your eyes met his, and your breath caught in your throat. You felt yourself falter for a moment when you looked into his dark eyes. They were so clouded with pain. The same pain that you’d been feeling lately.

The pain that he’d caused.

“It doesn’t matter, Johnathan. You ruined everything. Everything we had, it’s...it’s done. It’s over now, and there’s nothing you can say to change that!” Your hands fisted at your sides.

“Y/N, please!” Tears formed at the corners of his eyes. You had to suppress a gasp. You’d never seen John cry before. You had always been sure that it happened - because John felt everything so deeply- but you’d never been present to see it. John continued to speak, “Just give me a chance to explain. That’s all I want. I know how you must hate me, but you could never despise me more than I despise myself in this moment.”

Your body started to feel cold. “I am quite sure I do despise you more. I always will.” The stilted and proper language was foreign to you and John, but it was only right. This wasn’t someone you could be comfortable with anymore.

If John was surprised by your cold nature, he certainly didn’t show it. He took out a messy looking handkerchief and wiped sloppily at his eyes. You turned away from him angrily so that he wouldn’t see that you were crying too.

“Y/N.” His voice was quiet, and it was breaking. “Five minutes. I know I don’t deserve anything from you anymore, but I’m humbly asking for five minutes.”

You stood there, your arms crossed against your chest and your back facing him entirely. The air in the room couldn’t have been more stifling. Eventually, you sighed and relented. “If it will make you leave faster, then I’ll give you five minutes.” That was the reason you gave aloud, but if you were truly honest with yourself, some sick, twisted part of you wanted to know what on earth he could possibly say to make this situation any better. And an even sicker, more twisted part of you just wanted to hear his voice say your name just one more time.

“She tricked me,” John said quietly. You had to repress a scoff. “I was out with Alexander. We were having one drink together, and then I was going to go home. But then Mart-” You winced. “That girl,” he corrected himself. “She came over, and Alex bought her a drink. When Alex got up to leave, she pushed the drink towards me. She said she didn’t feel like drinking tonight, but didn’t want to appear rude so I should finish it for her before Alex came back. I did, and the entire night went on in the same way. We would all buy drinks, and every time, I would drink hers as well. I was drinking twice as much as Alex, and Alex was incredibly intoxicated. I know I should have left, Y/N.” You could hear his footsteps coming closer. You wanted to move, but you just couldn’t. You were frozen to the spot. “I’m so sorry. I should have just gone home. I would give almost anything to have left after one drink.”

“Almost anything?” You didn’t dare turn around to look at him.

“Well, I wouldn’t give you up. That is if you’re still mine to give.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “What happened next?” You changed the subject.

John sighed deeply. “I can’t remember clearly. I know that Alex went home, but Martha stayed. I don’t know how long she stayed at the bar, and how much more I drank. She said that it was late and that she should go home, but she was scared to walk alone. I said I would go with -- as if I was in a state to protect anybody; I could barely stand. While we were in the streets, it was dark, and something changed. Her voice was higher, and I couldn’t see her.” His own voice started to break. You felt the ache in your chest growing. “She turned into you, Y/N. God, how could I have been so stupid? She took me to her room, and she-she told me that she was you. That her name was Y/N, and that we were getting married tomorrow. I thought she was you! I thought she was you. I wanted her to be you.” He started to spiral and repeat himself. This was a man who was losing his mind.

You turned around to face him. Tears streamed down your face, but you tried your best to keep your expression stoic. “Thank you for explaining so fully,” you said icily.

“Y/N,” John was on his knees in front of you. His face and eyes were both red. “Y/N, please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to.”

You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your face away from him. You were doing so well, you hadn’t faltered until he said that.

Your voice broke as you spoke the next sentence. “I’m sorry, but I have to. Please get out of this house immediately.” You kept your head turned away from John, but you knew he was staring at you. When you still refused to look at him, you heard a few small sobs and retreating footsteps.

It was so dramatic and so exaggerated it made you sick. It shouldn’t hurt this much. You’d figured out long ago that you didn’t want to be with him anymore, so why were you on the floor sobbing the moment he left? You beat your fist into the hard floor until your knuckles were bleeding. You’re entire world was finally collapsing. It had been propped up on a sense of false hope for a few months, but now all of that was gone. All you could do was scream as you watched everything you thought you knew falling apart. You screamed about how much you wanted him to come back. You screamed because you felt so stupid to let him leave. You screamed because there was nothing you could do to change the situation. This was it. You and John had both made your beds, and they’d never be shared again.

It’s nice to think that you could never let one person or their actions affect you so deeply, but it’s never quite that easy, is it?

You screamed until your throat could no longer take it, and then you cried. When there were no more tears to be had, you laid on the floor of Hercules’ home and stared at his ceiling. Never before had your chest felt so entirely numb, and your body was cold. It was like your body had already died, but your mind just hadn’t caught up yet. So you did what anyone does when their body dies before their soul. You got up, and you found the liquor cabinet.

While on your chase for liquid comfort, you passed Hercules’ stove. A bath. Your mother always said that a bath could cure any problem. You grabbed the biggest pail you could find and filled it from Hercules’ water pump. Once it was firmly situated among the flames, you continued to where you thought you’d seen Hercules’ pull some whiskey. If John was allowed to get impossibly drunk, then so were you.

You pulled bottle after bottle from the cupboard, reaching on your tiptoes to get whatever was in the very back. At some point during your venture, you’d found a certain bottle of something --probably whiskey, you thought -- whose color distinctly reminded you of how’s John’s eyes looked when they caught the light, which reminded you of his smile. You threw that bottle against the wall.

After you collected everything you could carry (a few bottles slipped and stepping in the glass hurt, but it wasn’t a problem), you walked up the stairs to the biggest bathroom Hercules had -- the one with the tub. You dropped the bottles along the side of it and turned to walk out of the room. Thinking twice, you turned around, grabbed a bottle, and then left.

You took generous swigs while you walked back down the stairs, narrowly avoiding the glass from the bottles you already dropped. The water had a steady boil at this point. You grabbed both handles of the pot, which you guessed was about ten gallons. There was a slight sizzle when your hand touched the metal, and pain shot up both your arms. You ignored it and pulled the bathwater out from the flames. Some splashed on you and it stung, but you continued to carry the pot up the stairs. The glass bottle of alcohol shattered when you placed it inside the water for safe keeping, but who could be bothered to pick out all those pieces floating around in there?

You dragged the water to the bathroom and sloshed it into the bathtub. It wasn’t nearly enough to fill the entire tub, and pieces of clear glass floated along the surface, but a bath was a bath, and who were you to disagree with Mama’s advice?

You stripped your dress and undergarments off and climbed into the still steaming tub. The water barely covered the tops of your feet when you brought your knees close to your chest, which you had to do to fit in the small tub. You swiped a bottle that was floating in the shallow water and tried to down all of it before you gagged. You began tugging some pieces of glass out of your feet and legs, letting your mind wander. You weren’t mad anymore, and that was nice. You weren’t really sad even. In fact, you started to play a little game in the tub. It was similar to a game you and Martha had played as children.

“He loves me,” you’d say and pour some whiskey into the tub, watching the way it clouded in one spot before diffusing in the water.

“He loves me not.” You swallowed a gulp of the sour drink.

You’d tip it back forward into the tub and lie to yourself, then bring it back and swallow the truth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Bottle after bottle, until you were too numb and weak to hold onto them. You let your arm fall over the edge of the tub and admired how it looked to have one shard of green glass sticking out of the side of your elbow with blood trickling all the way down your arm. You loosened your grip on the bottle, and it took a minute for it to unstick from the red and blistering flesh on your hands, but eventually, it went crashing to the floor. When you heard that satisfying sound, you finally closed your eyes and let yourself sleep.

Hercules was met with sweltering heat when he entered his home. He walked into his kitchen with a puzzled expression. Why was the oven left on in the middle of summer? The weather outside was definitely warm enough to heat the house and left unattended, that could start the whole place on fire. There were shards of broken glass on the kitchen floor, and Hercules nearly stepped in a cluster of it.

“Y/N?” he called. No response. Anxiety started to set in. Hercules walked through every room on the first floor, but he couldn’t find you anywhere. He went to the stairs and saw glass and blood littering them.

That’s when he started running.

Hercules burst into your bedroom, but you weren’t there. He heard a soft groan come from next door. Hercules stepped into the bathroom and heard glass crunch under his feet. You were a sight. There was glass everywhere: on the floor, floating in the water, embedded in your skin. Drops of blood littered the floor. There were bottles -- broken and empty-- all over the place. The water in the tub had turned a muddy pink, and your lips had turned blue.

“Y/N?” Hercules tried hard to keep his voice calm and swallow the lump in his throat. “Y/N, can you hear me? Open your eyes.” He tried to grab your hand, but you winced and sputtered a sound.

Hercules furrowed his brow and turned your hands over. There he saw the raw skin that was peeling and red. The burns make two stark lines: one across the middle of your fingers and one thicker one along your palm. They looked swollen and bright against your skin which had lost much of its normal color.

“Y/N, darling, what happened?”

A sick smile spread across your chapped and cold lips. “Mister Jonathan came to call,” you said in a voice that was not your own.

“Shit.” Hercules cursed under his breath. “Okay. Come here. We’re gonna take you to bed.” Hercules hooked one arm under your legs and the other around your shoulders. He lifted your naked figure out of the glass infested waters, not caring that water dripped everywhere. This room was already trashed so what was the point.

Hercules carried you to your room and laid you down on the bed. “Try to sit up, darling, but only very slowly.” You gave him a weak nod. First order of business was to get any pieces of glass out of you before they could do any more damage. He searched your body, and, being as careful as his large hands would allow, he pulled the glass out. There wasn’t enough cloth in the world to press against every cut on your body, so he just let the wounds bleed onto the bed. He could wash them covers later. Hercules searched your body carefully, looking at you how a doctor would look at a patient and not how a man would look at a woman.

Once he was satisfied, Hercules turned to your wardrobe and searched for the warmest and most comfortable clothes he could find. He pulled out a cotton nightgown, a wool sweater, and a pair of wool socks. Hercules didn’t dare touch the drawer that held your slips and underwear. He knew you too well, and you’d eat him alive if you knew he went in there.

“Here,” he said with his gentlest voice. “Let’s put this on.” Hercules helped you cover up and leaned you back against the pillows. He smiled down at you and smoothed a hand over your still wet hair. “I’m getting you a glass of water, and then I’m gonna run and grab the doctor. Okay, darling?” You gave him the best nod you could in your weak state. Hercules kissed your forehead and murmured “You’ll be alright.” against your skin before he left.

Hercules was walking at a swift pace. He would have run to the doctor’s office, but people were already talking constantly about why you were living with him and what happened with John, so he didn’t want to start more rumors. Hercules didn’t think the world had any right to know what had happened nor what kind of state you were in because of it. But even as Hercules was walking briskly, it still didn’t feel like he was getting there fast enough. He was worried about you sitting in that house alone, and he hated himself for leaving you there the first time. How had he let you convince him that you were fine? He should have known that John would come. He was supposed to be protecting you.

Finally, Hercules was only a block away from the doctor when a strong arm grabbed.

“What the- John.” Hercules narrowed his eyes.

“Herc! I’m so glad I found you.”

Hercules grabbed John Laurens’ collar and pushed him against the wall of the nearest building. “You fucking asshole! What did you do to her? I told you that you couldn’t see her!”

John's eyes widened. “Herc, I...I had to visit her. I need her.”

“No! No, fuck you! Maybe if you thought about how Y/N feels for a second you would realize that what you’re doing is killing her! She still loves you John, and you did the worst possible thing you could to her. Get the fuck out of here.” Hercules pushed John away and started walking down the street again. He had to get to the doctor soon, and he’d already wasted enough time on John.

“She tricked me!” John called out after him.

Hercules spun around quickly. “What did you just say about her?”

“No.” John held his hands of quickly. “Not Y/N. Martha. She tricked me and told me that she was Y/N. I should have known better, I know. I fucked up, and it’s the biggest mistake I’ve made in my life, but Herc, you have to believe me. You know I would never do anything to intentionally hurt Y/N. She’s my entire world.”

Hercules couldn’t take any more of John’s bullshit. “Then why the fuck is she bleeding out in my bed right now because of you? You selfish, arrogant, fuck!” he shouted. John’s face broke.

“She what? What the fuck happened? Is she okay?”

Hercules glared at John, warning him not to step any closer. “You don’t deserve to know.” With that, Hercules turned to the doctor’s office for the third time today. “And don’t even think of following me if you want to keep breathing out of your mouth and not your ass.”

Eventually, Hercules made it to the doctor’s office, and by some miracle, he wasn’t already on another call. The two headed back to Hercules’ estate at a brisk pace. Along the way, a million thoughts filled Herc’s mind. He knew he had been a little harsh with John, that John was his friend and he should see both your side and his. However, at the end of it all, John was at fault here, and there was a certain point where Herc couldn’t take his idiocy. Had John really tried to defend his actions when you were sitting in Herc’s bed, bloody and burned because of the things John had said and done? On what planet can a man make excuses for such a thing?

By the time Hercules and the doctor reached his estate, Herc had worked himself into a rage again. Yet one look at your frail and weak body brought the caretaker in him back out.

“Hey, darling.” He smiled softly and put his hand on your forehead. No fever. Yet. “How are you feeling?” As he asked questions, the doctor pulled your socks off and started to clean the cuts on your legs and feet.

You cleared your throat, but your voice was still hoarse when you spoke. “A little better. This headache is probably the worst I’ve ever had, but at least I’m warmer now.”

Hercules’ desperately wanted to ask how you were feeling emotionally - he was a talker, he couldn’t help it- but he didn’t think you would want to think about all that dark stuff right now. So he instead settled with, “I’m glad.”

You smiled softly and put the unburnt part of your fingertips on Herc’s hand. He was glad to feel warmth there instead of the corpse-like cold he’d felt before. “Thank you.” You looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Thank you so much for everything. You’ve done so much for me. I’m-I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, no, stop.” Hercules moved his large thumb to swipe at the tears by your eyes. “We all go through stuff, Y/N. People will do crazy things when they’re hurting, but that doesn’t make them a bad person. I don’t think any less of you.”

You sighed and opened your mouth to say something, but then the doctor asked you to sit up so he could examine the welts on your back. Hercules was grateful that he didn’t ask too many questions about how this happened to you. It seemed like everyone had questions lately.

“None of these cuts seem too deep, so they should heal quickly with hardly any scarring. I’ll bandage them up, and I’d advise you to keep them bandaged for a few days so they won’t get infected.”

“Thank you, doctor,” you said quietly.

“Of course.” He smiled without a hint of judgment, and that put both you and Hercules at ease. “Are there any other injuries I should look at?”

“Oh, well…” You slowly held your hands out and turned them palm up. The skin on your hands was a mixture of red and raw flesh, puffing blisters, and oozing yellow pus.

The doctor took a deep breath and angled your hands to catch the light differently as he examined them. “Those do look like pretty severe burns, unfortunately. I’ll wrap those up and leave you with salve.” The doctor turned to dig in his black bag. You grimaced, but Hercules was quick to run a soothing hand over your head.

It took the doctor nearly an hour to dress all your wounds properly, but finally, he was finished and told you it was time to rest. “Now make sure you change the bandages on your hands every four hours or so, and put more salve on every time you do. I’m also leaving you with a little something for the headache.” He set a brown glass bottle full of a syrupy liquid on the nightstand next to you. “I’d stay off your feet as much as you can for at least a couple days, just to see if you develop a fever or a serious cold. It’ll also help those cuts on your feet heal.”

“Thank you again, doctor. So much,” you urged.

“It’s what I’m here for. Take care, Miss L/N.” The doctor grabbed his bag and left the room. Hercules smiled down at you and then left for a moment as well.

The doctor was still waiting in the hall when Hercules got out there. He was about to start giving the billing information, but the doctor cut him off.

“I don’t know what happened to put her in this state, and I don’t think I want to know, but you should watch her. She’s upset. She’s not stable. Whatever happened was serious, and if it’s something that can be fixed, you need to fix it. Otherwise, I don’t know if she’ll live through this grief much longer.”

Hercules nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

“Be careful, sir.”

You had a lot of time to think while on bedrest per the doctor’s orders, and, given the situation, of course there was only one thing on your mind. John’s story had seemed so wild and fantastical; there was no way in heaven or hell that it could be true. But you knew John so well. Sometimes you thought you might know him better than you knew yourself. You could tell when John was lying -you’d had that skill for a while- and you’d never seen that little tick from him. John rarely lied to you, but you’d seen him do so with other people. Every time, without fail, he took a few glances -- usually three or four -- to the upper right corner and tugged one of his curls straight as he talked. It was such an obvious tick, but as you played the scene over and over again in your mind, you never remembered him doing it. There was no hair pulling, no shifty eyes. So...maybe he was telling the truth after all.

But that was ridiculous! That she raped the love of your life? Your best friend tricking your future husband into sleeping with her? It had to be a lie. Martha wouldn't.

Although, whether John’s story was true or not, Martha had apparently been willing to betray your trust one way or another. Clearly, she wasn’t as good a friend as you’d thought. You painfully drudged up all the happy memories of you gushing to Martha about John. They were now tainted with the image of those two together. Like a ripe peach that a fly ate a hole through. One thing was missing and it ruined the whole fruit. You were missing love. It used to pour out of you, an unstoppable flow, but now you weren’t sure if you had any love left to give. Your best friend. The man who was going to be your husband. They both betrayed you. How could you ever trust again?

Hercules was sitting by your side. You were reading your book, and he was supposed to be doing some sewing, but he couldn’t focus on his work. He was like a bee by your side now, always alert, always buzzing with energy. He hovered and waited for you to need something. You’d developed a cough and a slight fever, but when Hercules asked, the doctor sent a note back saying it was nothing to worry about unless the fever stretched several days. So Herc just waited by your side as much as he could.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Hercules met your eyes and shrugged. He walked down the stairs and to the front door.

“I thought I told you to stay the fuck away-”

“I know.” John held his hand up to stop Hercules. “I get it, okay? I’m the scum of the earth. I don’t deserve to see Y/N, and I never did. I might as well just leave the country because I’m not welcome here anymore. I heard you the first time.” Hercules raised an eyebrow at John’s words. “But this is important. This is about way more than me, and I need to talk to Y/N. And, you said she was injured. I just want to see if she’s okay.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Hercules crossed his arms. He was big enough to block the entire doorway so that John had no chance of getting to you.

“I said this is important.” There was an edge in John’s voice now. He was ready to fight for this. “It’s something that Y/N needs to know. I’m not here to ‘win her back’. I know it’s too for late. This isn’t something selfish, in fact, it will probably make things worse for me, but it’s something that Y/N should hear from me.”

“You’re not seeing her.”

John ran a hand over his face, clearly trying to control your anger. He wasn’t doing a great job of it. “This isn’t your decision Herc. You can’t keep me from seeing her. Since when are you two so close anyway?” he said with a snarl.

“Since you left her for her best friend.”

“I never fucking left her!”

“Oh, I forgot. You just broke her heart.”

“Will you just let me see her? You can’t keep making these choices for her!”

“She’s ill and weak! There’s is nothing in this world that could be so important that you need to talk to her right now.”

John scoffed. “Wanna bet?”

“What did you just say?” Hercules spat. He flexed his biceps, ready for a fist fight.

John laughed mirthlessly. “Martha’s fucking pregnant, asshole.”

You had put a bookmark in your novel when you heard the knock on the door, but Hercules had been gone for awhile, and he still hadn’t come back in with whoever the guest was. You were just debating if it was worth it to get out of bed when you heard shouting.

Moving as quickly as you could without hurting yourself, you pushed your legs over the side of the bed and stood. It took a couple seconds for you to see if your footing was sure, but when it was, you hobbled into the hallway. The yelling had stopped by the time you approached the stairwell. You stepped into the light and saw him.

He looked better than the last time. He was still grief stricken and less than put-together of course, but he had a clean shirt on and his stance was bolder. John and Hercules were talking in hushed voices. It seemed to be a serious conversation. John looked so worried. You wanted to stay there and just watch them for a moment, but your cover was blown by a coughing fit that burned in your chest.

“Y/N?”

Hearing his voice say your name so gently hurt your chest in an entirely different way. Hercules was by your side before you knew what was happening.

“What are you doing out of bed? The doctor said to rest. Let’s go.” He started to lift you out of your keeled-over position.

“No, I-I want to see John.” You thought your ex-fiance might be smug or happy when he heard that you would speak to him, but he was nothing except concerned when he looked at you.

Hercules spoke softly, almost like he was talking to a child. “Darling, I really don’t think that’s the best idea right now.”

You smiled and patted Hercules arm, the one that wasn’t around your waist. It felt strange to touch someone through the gauze on your hand. “I appreciate the concern, Herc, but...” You sighed and looked at John, then back at Hercules. “I need to do this.”

Hercules let out a resigned breath. “At least let me help you down the stairs.”

You almost laughed. “You’re crazy if you think I can get down these by myself right now,” you joked. Hercules smiled and held his hands out. You wrapped your arms around his neck and nodded, signaling him to pick you up. Hercules carried you princess-style past John to the couch in the parlor that was adjacent to the front door. John followed and sat on the other end of the couch, not exactly next to you, but not very far either. Hercules looked worried, but you rubbed your bandaged hand over his forearm to assure him that you were fine.

“I guess I’ll be upstairs then.” You smiled and nodded. “Scream if you need me,” he said with a very pointed look at John before disappearing up the stairs. You adjusted in your seat to ease the pressure off some of the cuts on your lower back.

“Y/N, what happened?” John automatically reached a hand toward your face, but he snatched it back when you shied away. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I’m just worried.”

“I know,” you said carefully, “Thank you for your concern, but you really don’t need to worry about this.” You gestured to your body.

“Your hands, though. Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?”

You met his warm eyes. He was chewing on his bottom lip with worry. You could feel yourself get lost in him again. If you stared too much longer, you might drown.

You turned your head away and looked at your lap. “I don’t want to talk about it.” Your voice was weak and not convincing in the slightest form.

You saw John fidget out of the corner of your eye. You could practically taste how stressed he felt. “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m willing to listen.” You nodded but couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. John's hand appeared in your vision, taking one wrapped hand out of your lap. You looked up at him. You hadn’t realized you were crying until that motion caused a few tears to slip from your eyes. “I’m always willing to listen, Y/N.”

A lump formed in your throat. “How could you?” you sobbed. The tears started to flow freely now. You tried to stay quiet so that Hercules wouldn’t hear, but you couldn’t stop the crying. John tentatively pulled you into a hug. He was tense at first, but when he realized you weren’t pushing him away, he relaxed and held you closer. Just like old times.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I can’t believe I did this to you.”

You pulled away from him slightly and looked in his eyes. “I have felt nothing and everything for months. I can’t feel anything anymore. I want to hate you. I want to want you dead, but I can’t. And I hate myself for it. All this time I want to hate you and the only person I despise is myself for not being able to. It makes me feel sick and disgusting because all these days, hours, seconds that I’ve been mad at you, the only person, the only fucking person I want to talk to about it with is you. You’re the reason I’m broken, but you’re the only person I want to cry to.” You started sobbing again. Your face was red with heat. You couldn’t tell if you were angry or sad anymore. “You fucking jerk.” You started to beat his chest. You knew you weren’t really hurting him, and he made no move to stop you. “I’m broken! I’m broken because of you! You ruined everything! How am I supposed to move on? How could you? How could you? How could you...” Your speech fell into sobs, and you pressed your face into his chest.

John wrapped his arms around you. He was crying himself now, but he only tried to comfort you. You gripped his shirt and cried into his chest. The scent of him alone was enough to comfort you. For weeks this was all you wanted. You’d tried to push it down, but you needed John. It felt so good to be near him again, even if it hurt this much, it was just good to be with him.

John was almost ecstatic to have you in his arms again. You hadn’t forgiven him, but at least you were with him. You were pulling him closer and not pushing him away. That was all he could ask for in that moment. After everything that had happened -losing his love and best friend, Herc out to kill him, Martha and what she’d done to him- he was just glad to have you back, even if it was just for a small while.

Everything about this moment was perfect if weren’t for what was weighing on John’s heart. The reason he had come here. He knew he should tell you. You needed to know, and he thought you deserved to hear it from him.

But Herc had told him some of the things that had happened, the things you’d done and how you were feeling. Hercules told him not to tell you, and even though it went against everything John thought he should do, he knew Hercules was right. Clearly, you were in no state to take that kind of news. It was earth shattering, and your life was already crumbling. John absolutely hated lying to you, but he was able to rationalize it enough. He would tell you eventually. Soon, hopefully. But he just got you back, and you were so fragile at this point, he couldn’t risk making you worse. For now, it was easier to pretend.

So instead he held onto you tightly. He did his best to dry your tears, and let him tell you all the things you were feeling.

“We’ll be okay, Y/N. We’re gonna make it through this. We’ll be alright.”

(So yeah, John never cheated on Y/N; Martha tricked and essentially raped him. Y/N is confused and hurt but she still loves John (obvi). Hercules is THE BEST GUY. Martha is pregnant, John and Herc know, but neither are telling Y/N. And that’s what you missed on GLEE!)

#hamilton #hamilton imagine #imagines blog #John Laurens #john laurens fanfiction #john laurens imagine #john laurens x reader #hamilton x reader #hamimagines #jilted #jilted part two

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