The Secret I kept
TW: attempted sa, drinking, violence, cussing
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Second Person, You POV
You sat on the edge of your bed, forearms resting on knees, and head hanging down in shame. It was eating you from the inside out. Whether it be from the guilt of lying to your friends, the person you love; or simply the fact that you pretend to be an entirely different person, the consequences of your actions were catching up quickly. The 1700’s was cruel to women, and newly disowned, the army seemed like the perfect place to erase the past and safeguard the future. What you didn’t realize would happen is you falling in love. Alexander was his name. He was smarter than a scholar, and had unmatched energy and determination. He was the most beautiful person you’ve ever met. Which is where the problems started. Alexander was friends with military you. The man who appeared weak but was a fast runner. A perfect shot, charming spirit and love for hunting. The other you was a well mannered woman from a middle class family with a passion for literature and the arts, something which your family hate. But the true you was neither of those. Just you. You hoped that Alex would love all of you, whether it be militia man, literate woman or simply a person just trying to enjoy life and the little things. But it was the gender that could cause a riff. Although you never thought to ask, you didn’t know Alexander’s preferred gender, and pretending to be a man when you really weren’t destroyed you. And even though you pretended to it wasn’t there, you and every one of your friends saw how Alexander looked at you, and vice versa. It was never spoken, but the love was their, and you were quite aware of it as well. And it made you feel like shit. And it would destroy him too, if he knew. You knew the truth would be seen as a betrayal to him. Alexander loved a man. And you were not one.
“I thought I’d find you in here,” a voice rang behind you, startling the peace. Hercules was truly the best person you could ask for, after a careless incident, he discovered your truth. He knew everything, who you are and your dilemma with Alexander. And while he never pushed, your constant lies was something he would remind you that the longer it stays in, the worse it’ll get. “He’s acting like a lost puppy without you giving him attention.”
“I think I’ll tell Alexander after the war. Right now,” you paused. Thinking of it was hard, yet talking of it was harder. “Right now just isn’t right.” Hercules gave you a look that chipped even further at your consciousness…
Third Person, Alexanders POV
Alexander felt disgusted with himself. He was a dirty, disgusting, no good son of a whore, and it was his fault. His smile, that pushed his cheeks back in just the right way, teeth slightly showing and lips that were so perfect, even when they were chapped. His eyes, which were deep with swirling colours, that never seemed to be focused on anything that trapped Alexander deeply. His body, personality, hair, attitude, everything made Alexander light up in a million ways, and it disgusted him. It was wrong. It was immoral, unholy, wrong, stupid and absolutely fucking disgusting. He tried to distance himself at first, but he couldn’t stand that look on his face when Alexander gave a half-asses reply or a look of avoidance. It hurt Alexander too much. So he made the mistake of getting too close. Everything he did, Alexander did, if he wasn’t busy with work for General Washington. Every meal, training session, down time and even a tent, them two of them shared. Last winter was so cold, Alexander had to snuggle with him to keep the pair warm. It almost made the wretched winds and bitter cold worth it. Another time at the bar the pair got so piss drunk, they ended up in a back ally. He always claimed that he blacked out, but Alexander remembered the taste of his lips, the feeling of his tongue, his arms so muscular and scarred and his gorgeous hair. After that, Alexander had begun the compliment phase, where Alex praised everything he did. Every perfect shot, every letter, everything he did was perfect. And every time, the other male would shrug it off or reciprocate the compliment in an extremely watered down way that made Alexander feel like shit. It wasn’t that the other didn’t like Alexander, the exact opposite really. But his fear of Alexander knowing the truth caused him to become distant. And it only made the two hate themselves more than they already did. Alexander tried so hard to like other woman. And he did like women. He’s had girlfriends before, and courted whore on drunk occasions. But he never liked someone how liked him. Nothing would ever compare to him. And it was disgusting.
Timeskip and Pov switch to 3rd Person
The last battle left a toll on everyone. Some chose to wallow, and others took it to the bar to drink their traumas away. Alexander and his friends chose the latter. Six beers deep each, the room was swirling and the emotions were happy. Not one of the five were thinking straight, and Lafayette had resorted to his native language. Alexander was twenty minutes deep into a rant, John was dancing with some women in fancy clothes, and Hercules was piss drunk and passed out. Which left last member, deep in drunk regret and wallow. Her thoughts were swirled and confused, room loud, head pounding and a yearning for someone she knew would hate the true him, technically her. She truly hated herself. She was a snake, a liar, a whore, and a disgusting disgrace who deserved to be disowned. And suddenly, an actual whore, who was beautiful and covered in makeup, rans her hands up her back. As this woman rubbed her hands along her spine, each of the other members of the party turned eyes. While two of them found this comedic and exciting, drunk Alexander felt a seething rage deep within him. Alexander met eyes with her, who seemed to be a drunk and confused wreck. Too many things were happening at once, and before she knew it, John had pushed her and the whore to the stairs. She stopped in her tracks to meet eyes with Alexander, as if to ask for permission. Deep down she knew this was a bad idea, yet she didn’t have the sobriety to deny the woman’s service. Their eye contact was quickly broken, as she was dragged away, and Alexander looking at the ground in shame.
She found herself making her way up the crooked and narrow stairs, whether they were actually crooked was dependent on how much alcohol she consumed. The woman led her into a room, that had a simple bed, table and dresser. This usual courting room scene. Why was she here? What was going on? These thoughts consumed her head as she was laid down on a bed, head and shoulders propped up by pillows. This woman, whom she had no idea was, straddled her and began to kiss her neck.
“Oh poor honey, you’re so wasted. Don’t worry, I promise I’ll be gentle.” The only thing she could do was just, close her eyes. Arms by here side and her head tilted away from the scene, in a half drunk half uncomfortable way. In the darkness of her eyelids, she saw Alex. His smile, his beautiful brown eyes. She like the way his eyebrows furrowed when he was focused. She liked how he never gave up. And in all drunkness, she began to imagine that this was Alexander on her. Doings these things to her. She’d stay up late at night imagining a life with Alexander. They’d have a good life, he’d work in congress and she’d write poetry and books. They would split the chores, and he would
make the best food. He always talked about the food they ate back in the country where he was born. And so, here she was, drunk and about to be fucked, thinking of Alex.
“Eyes on me honey,” the woman said was she grabbed her chin to face the woman. The woman used her thumb to lightly rub her face before giving a wet peck on the lips. “You have such a cute face honey, but you must be so hot. Poor baby… let’s take this off you,” The soldier seemed to not quite understand what was happening, and as she started to the ceiling, the woman began to fumble with the buttons of her dirty military issued white shirt. It wasn’t until the third button came undone that the situation finally clicked. Eyes flew open as she looked at what was about to be revealed. Panic raced through her body, and she begun to fight with the woman, trying to push her off.
“Stop it please. Please get off I don’t want it,” the soldier slurred. And although she was extremely uncomfortable with what was happening to her, she was more focused on her shirt. This shirt cannot come off her. If the woman saw the chest bindings, it would all be over. The woman was stubborn, to fucking stubborn, and tried hard to stay on. She didn’t realize her strength, and in a last attempt to protect her secret, she aggressively pushed the woman off the bed, and in so, knocking her out as her head hit the frame. She felt regret for harming the woman, but that would be an issue sober her would deal with. The buttons of her shirt were completely undone, but with no one here to see, she begun the gruelling process to trying to rebutton her shirt, something sober her could finish in seconds. Finally finishing the task, she sighed in relief. Close. Too close. But she had accidentally knocked the harlot out, so her secret was safe. Opening the wooden door with a rusty handle, she stepped outside of the room, only to be greeted with her tall friends, John and Lafayette. They had this look on her face, and she prayed, oh she prayed that they weren’t watching.
“Mon ami, why didn’t you tell us, you know we wouldn’t have cared,” Lafayette said. Still drunk but quickly sobered by the situation. They knew. The world stopped for the female soldier, a pit of rocks filling her stomach and finding herself unable to swallow. But in this moment of absolute dread, something was missing, or someone. Hercules was passed out, and the two were in-front of her so… what was missing.
Alexander.
“Did. Did he see me?” No one needed to speak. Their faces said it all. He saw. The girl pushed past the pair and rushed down the stairs. The room was swirling and her anxiety was severely amplified. Everyone seemed the same, she felt so suffocated, so scared. But she knew Alex. She could recognize him from any crowd. And there he was, leaving the through back door. It was hard to push through the equally drunk crowd, and she could feel tears forming in her eyes. Once she finally made it to the back door, Alexander was already paces ahead of her. She ran, tripped and fell, and got back onto her feet again. She couldn’t lose him. Figuratively and literally. When she finally caught up, she called out to Alexander, who stopped but couldn’t turn around.
“Alexander. I’m. God I’m so sorry. I just didn’t know how to tell you and,” she was quickly cut off by him, as he looked at her in a way she’d never seen before.
“You lied to me. You fucking lied. I have hated myself this whole time, and you were lying? I cannot. Fucking. Believe you.”
“Alex,”
“No. Don’t you fucking start. Do you know what it’s like? To like someone the whole world tells you is wrong. Do you know what that’s like? I thought I was a disgusting freak for liking a man, but in the end you were just lying. To me, to everyone. I have hated myself for the past year all at your expense.” She reached out to try and touch his arm, to try and comfort him. She knew her words wouldn’t do shit, especially when they were both still drunk. “No. Don’t fucking TOUCH ME.” Alexander slapped her mid sentence, which resulted in her falling to the ground. His blind rage was replaced with instant regret, as he hurt the one thing he loved. His hand slightly tingling as he, now she, held her face in pure shock. Tears fell from his eyes as the girl infront of him began to sob, begging Alexander to stay. But he couldn’t. He knew that if he stayed he would hurt her more. So he turned his back and began to walk
“Alexander, come back! Please come back. I’m sorry. I need you, please,” she sobbed as her voice faded into despair and he just faded into the night…