"My boy's a homosexual, and that don't scare me none. I want the world to know, I love my dead gay son!"

I sing along to my favorite musical, laughing at the lyrics.

Honestly, if I die before my father, he would sing this song. Or maybe he wouldn't. He actually does hate me for being gay. He acts as if I'm a disease, and honestly, if we didn't live in New York, he'd probably sign me up for conversion therapy.

I hear the slam of the front door and a minute later my dad shouts, "Turn the fucking music down or I'll be the one with a dead gay son, and trust me, boy, I won't love you just because you're dead."

I can easily identify the slur in his voice. Drunk. He's already drunk, great.

"Sorry, Sir!" I shout, hurriedly shutting off my music.

My door swings open and my father fills the doorway with his hulking body.

"What are you doing, boy?" He growls, glaring down at me.

"H-homework sir," I state, leaping off my bed and standing up straight.

"You can finish that later, right now I have a list of things I need you to get." He stuffs his hand into his pocket and pulls out a piece of paper. He holds it out for me to take, which I do so hesitantly.

"Don't forget your fake ID, I need more beer." He turns and leaves my room.

I nod my head and I carry myself from my room to the front room. I then open the drawer from the table in the front room, and I grab my ID and my father's credit card. My father doesn't do the chores and has me do them. So, the credit card is basically mine. Half the money is also mine as my dad has a lousy job and spends his paycheck at bars. The ID was something my dad brought home so that I can buy him some beer when he's too lazy to get his own. It says I'm twenty-one. Which, for your information, I am not. I'm sixteen and a junior in high school. I shouldn't be buying booze, but if I don't, then he takes it out on me or my siblings. I can take it, and usually, I make sure I am the one taking it. However, sometimes I'm not home, so he'll pick on whoever is. Ever since mom died, he's been horrible. She died giving birth to Henry and Mary, five years ago.

I then make my way to Martha's room. "Martha, I'm heading out, do you want to come with?" 

She looks up from her homework and nods, not wanting to stay at home with our father. 

We walk to James and Henry's room, gathering them, before getting Mary.

All five of us put on our shoes, and I help Mary and Henry into their jackets. It's quite chilly during October in New York.

I open the front door, ushering the kids outside.

"Johnny, where are we going?" Mary asks, swinging her arms, which also made my arm swing.

"Yeah, where are we going?" Henry asks, gripping my other hand.

"We're just going to get some food, alright?" I tell them.

"Dad's drunk again isn't he?" Martha asks, grabbing Mary's  other hand.

"Yes, he is."

"Alright, when we get to the liquor store I'll watch the younger three."

I nod. Martha has had to grow up much too quickly. For God's sake, she's only eleven! I quickly glance at my sister. Her brown hair is pulled into a single dutch braid, and freckles splatter her face, just like mine. When her hair isn't pulled into a braid or a bun, it's slightly curled. She's about five foot and two inches, on the taller side of average. She's wearing blue jeans and a blue sweater. 

Martha notices me staring and asks, "What?"

"Nothing, I just wish mom was still around. You look so much like her."

Martha grins. She has always liked being compared to our mother. She was one of the nicest people you'd ever meet, and Martha and I are the only two that really remember what she was like.

We continue down the sidewalk, occasionally turning onto a different street, on our way to the grocery store.

It takes a total of twenty minutes to walk to the grocery store. The whole way, Mary, and Henry dance along the road. Eventually, they let go of me and Martha and held each others' hands. They spun and danced. Martha and I laughed when they also took hold of James's hand, dragging the seven-year-old blond kid with them.

We enter the grocery store, and I make sure that Martha and Henry don't run off randomly. We walk around the store, getting all our basic needs. I grab two jugs of milk, placing them in the cart. I then place bread, pasta, cheese, and fruit into the cart as well.

"Johnny, can we get ice cream?" James asks, with the twins trailing behind him.

I look at their pleading faces, and I can't say no. "Of course."

"Yay! Mary grab the ice cream!" Henry and Mary race back down the aisle they came from and came back with a tub of chocolate ice cream. The place it into the cart, and we head to the checkout.

Once I bought all the food, we all head out of the store and walk the two blocks to the liquor store.

"Alright, Martha is going to watch you guys while I buy dad's drinks okay?" I tell my siblings. I ruffle up Henry's hair, and I walk into the store. 

I head to the back where they keep my father's favorite beer and vodka. I grab two cases of beer and two bottles of vodka. I look at the rest of the alcohol, seeing if there is anything else my dad would want. Shaking my head, I leave the back isle, and I walk towards the counter. I'm almost at the counter when I bump into someone. I look down and realize the person I slammed into is no other than Alexander Hamilton. 

"John Laurens, is that you?" He asks, one hand gripping a twelve pack of beer, and the other stuffed into his leather jacket's pocket.

I roll my eyes at him. Alex is probably one of the smartest kids at our school, but he's also the biggest jackass as well. 

"What's it to you Hamilton?" I snarl.

Alex laughs, a big booming laugh. "I never thought nerdy little Johnny would buy that much liquor."

"Yeah well, I never thought you would ditch the revolutionist for Jefferson and his group of whores, guess we were both wrong, weren't we Lexi?" I glare at my former best friend.

Alex use to love when I called him Lexi, but ever since he became popular, he hated it. He said that that being called a 'girls' name, especially by the Revolutionary Crew, was bad rep. Oh, yeah, my friends and I like to refer to ourselves as the Revolutionary Crew. The rest of the school, however, refers to us as the gay as fuck friends. Which isn't wrong, Herc, Laf, and I are not straight. At all.

"Whatever, piss off," Hamilton says, shoving me aside.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I thought you were the one who started this conversation. My bad. Go have fun with the bitches you call friends." I turn on my heel, and I slam the drinks onto the counter. The guy at the counter doesn't even bother checking for ID, they never do.

I quickly buy the drinks, and I exit the store.

"Ready to go?" I ask Martha, who has Mary on her back.

"Yeah, James, Henry, let's go."

The boys run up to us, and pick up the grocery bags from the ground.

Once we get home, we drop the bags in the kitchen, and I quickly heard my siblings to their rooms. My dad walks into the kitchen as I'm putting away the food.

"John, a friend of mine has an old car that he wanted out of his driveway. Here are the keys, you need to pay for gas, now you can drive your siblings to their things, and I won't have to. Also, I'll except my liquor quicker from now on."

I nod my head at him, taking the keys and holding in my excitement. I finish putting away all the groceries, and I head to my room, picking up my phone.

Turtle Boi: Guys I got a car, granted it's pretty crappy, but now you don't have to take the bus to school. I text in the group chat, Rev Crew.

Horse Fucker: Dude that's great! I hate the bus.

Large Baguette: Sa do I

Large Baguette: As*

I laugh at Laf's mistake, and I set my phone down, picking my homework up, and turning on my music, deciding that I'll listen to Be More Chill.

"I am hanging in the bathroom at the biggest party of the fall."

Hey, guys! This is my first shot at a Hamilton fic, I've got a one-shot book for it as well. I've also done Jily, and an outsiders fic. Also, I think I'm going to start every chapter and possibly end every chapter with one as well. They chapter titles will be a combination of the song titles.