1 Up on my side, where it is felt.

Jefferson always had a habit of watching this one boy in each class he shared with him.

It was only two classes, two hours to see him each day. But it was enough time each day for him to fall into a deeper and deeper pit of hopeless love that never seemed to end. Jefferson didn't even know of they boy had acknowledged him, or stared back whenever Jefferson wasn't looking. Did they boy label him something else besides "classmate"? Did the boy know about him? About how love struck and head over heels he was?

Jefferson heard him talk twice throughout the whole school year, and it was quickly heading into the warmer months. Both times were about questions that the boy had about the assignment, questions where it came from all perspectives and predictions. His voice was to die for, his voice was everything. His voice was nothing and everything at the same time, coming in as soothing, shallow waves before punching him in the heart as a tsunami.

He saw the boy's name on the attendance sheet, saw him raise his hand attentively whenever the teacher had call his name each morning.

James Madison.

Two simple words that rolled neatly on the tongue, two addictive words that want you to keep on saying it over and over and over again. Sometimes, Jefferson thought he was being too obsessive. He, Thomas Jefferson, president of the Art Club, rarely got crushes.

But when he falls, he falls hard.

And he doesn't know what to do about it.

Yes, he has tried confronting Madison before. Tried a total of five times, tried writing anonymous love letters before ripping them into little bits, tried approaching him with damn red roses.

Jefferson has a feeling that Madison doesn't like red. Solid red was too bright, too bubbly. Madison was calm, quiet, and extremely quick-witted. He always finished his tests first, always scored perfect marks on tests, always made sure to double and triple check his work before turning it in. Heck- Madison probably spends hours each night studying, even if he's going to get perfect grades no matter what he does.

He's seen him hang out with James. The other James, James Reynolds. He didn't like Reynolds much, he was too egotistical and always cut others off. He was too touchy, Jefferson could tell that whenever Reynolds reached forward to touch Madison, Madison would back away. He doesn't know why Madison chooses to hang out with Reynolds. Did he like Reynolds' company? It didn't look like it. He never smiled nor laughed at one of Reynolds' jokes or stupid remarks.

He never once seemed to enjoy Reynolds.

Another person Madison seemed to frequently hang out with was Aaron Burr, class representative. A forgettable person, so forgettable that you even forget that he has existence in this huge world, that he has an identity, flaws, and his own life. The two personalities seemed to line up with each other, both reversed and patient. Both speaking at a calming pace, almost the sort of calm that lulls you to sleep. ((Although Burr sometimes gets excited at the littlest, sometimes the most eccentric things and starts talking at faster speeds while bouncing on his heels ever so slightly.))

Jefferson seemed to notice a pattern in Madison's behavior.

He may or may not be eavesdropping on Madison and Burr's conversations sometimes.

Whenever Burr got excited over small things, Madison almost always had a small, soft smile on his face. Barely noticeable unless you were looking out for it, barely noticeable unless you were spending too much time hanging out with him. And Jefferson knows that Burr knows Madison smiles whenever he gets all bubbly and happy. Because Burr always glances down at Madison's lips for a split second, and gets even more happy at seeing the smile.

Whenever Burr was going on one of his rants, fingers tapping against the desk, leg bouncing up and down at a such a swift pace- sometimes having his brows furrowed together. Madison sets a hand on Burr's shoulder, mouths the words; "Deep breaths, Burr. It's alright," with those soft- almost demanding eyes of his. And oh, it makes Jefferson absolutely melt.

He envies Burr, he wishes that he was in Burr's position. As the days went on, Jefferson noticed that Madison had been spending more and more time with Burr, instead of Reynolds.

But now Reynolds was hanging out with Jefferson, it was like he had nothing to do with his life. Jefferson ignored him most of the time, he wasn't worth keeping as a friend.

"Ay, Thomas!" Reynolds looked up at Jefferson, a cheeky smirk on his face as if he were hiding an obvious secret, "Y' keep on starin' at that James kid, what's up with that?"

Jefferson rolled his eyes in response, twirling his gel pen around in his fingers. It was a burgundy colored one, the same shade as Madison's backpack. "Nothin', Reynolds. I just stare, that's all." He muttered, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

"Uhuh, sure." Reynolds chuckled, nudging Jefferson quite forcefully in the shoulder, "I bet y' have a crush on him. Y' do, don't ya?" He asked, leaning forward to grab Jefferson's pen like it was his. "Even got the glitter in the ink! You're funny like that, hah! That's so gay."

"It's not gay- I told you to stop using gay as an insult!"

Reynolds only laughed, dropping the gel pen down into Jefferson's hands. "Didn' know y' swung that way, Thomas. Shoulda just told me, I bet I could find y' some hot b-"

"Shush! Reynolds, I'm tired of your bull. Shut up, I don't care."

"Geez, why're y' so ma-"

"Hey." A deep voice chimed in calmly.

Jefferson jumped, grip tightening around the burgundy gel pen as he looked up. Reynolds scoffed and stood up, walking away to talk to some other people instead of Jefferson and Madison. Good thing the teacher wasn't in here.

Ah.

It was the one and only.

James Madison.

"Oh-! Hi..?" Jefferson mumbled, glancing down for a second or two.

"I heard you're a player, Jefferson." Madison started, deciding to pull a chair up to the front of Jefferson's desk and sit down across from him. "So how about we play a simple game." He offered the other male a small smile, just the corners of his mouth twitching up ever so slightly.

Jefferson was interested. Who wouldn't be? "A game?" He echoed.

"Yes, indeed." Madison knitted his hands together, propping his elbows up on the desk and setting his chin down on the fingers. "Let's sweet talk, play fight... Talk twenty four seven." Jefferson felt the world slow as Madison continued to talk, the only sounds he could hear were Madison speaking and his heart thumping again and again. Could Madison hear how fast his heart was going? He almost felt his breathing hitch.