Author's note: I posted this on Hamilton Amino ages ago, but I'm proud of it, so here it is. I wrote a snitbit of the story as well, but let's not speak of that quite yet.

Recess mean loneliness. Lunch meant loneliness too. Class, and gym especially meant loneliness. Hell, if the person in question was Aaron Burr, "loneliness" was synonymous with "always." But recess was when the children had their best opportunities to exclude. And exclude they did.

Such treatment was not unjustified, he knew. He knew that he was the cynical, poker faced, honest kid. He knew that he was a jerk. He knew it, and perhaps, in such an area, he embraced it. And while embracing it, he had to cope.

His hours before and after school were devoted to browsing the shelves of the library. He would pick out the longest, hardest novels and sit down to read them. When the other fifth graders ran by and asked just how he had such a tolerance for reading, he would only reply,

"Because I'm not stupid."

The answer would leave most scratching their heads in mild curiosity. Nobody had quite the patience for him and his puzzles, so they made no endeavor to persevere and actually befriend Aaron.

Which he was fine with. He knew that children would be disposed to avoid somebody with quite the... temperament.

One day, however, a forth grader was moved into the fifth grade on the account of his massive intellect. Aaron didn't have all the facts, nor did he care to, but he knew that this nine year old had a sort of intelligence rarely sought in fifth grade.

Despite that, however, the nine year old in question was also a talker. He was sweet, and sincere, and spoke constantly. His attention span was quick. He changed subjects faster than Aaron changed books- and that alone was impressive.

He ought to have been popular. He was so smart that he was charming, and knew all the right social cues that Aaron did not. He didn't doubt that this child would soon sink into the depths of popularity and the sincerity that made his person endearing would disappear- pop like a bubble.

One day, however, the same child came over to his corner on the playground. The rest of the children had taken to attempting to avoid it. Of course they would. This corner was where somebody as unpleasant as Aaron Burr sat; nobody wanted to associate with it.

But here he was, crouching in front of him with a toothy smile on his face. His friends stood awkwardly behind him, as if reluctant to be there in the first place, but unwilling to deny the forth grader the disappointment that surely awaited him.

"Hi. You're Aaron, right?"

His voice reflected the innocence of his youth, and Aaron felt- touched. Warm. He felt the sort of friendliness from him that he scarcely felt.

The new emotions were alarming. He glanced to the side and grumbled,

"Maybe."

The boy in front of him actually giggled, dark blue eyes twinkling with sincerity. He extended a small hand for a shake, the gesture undoubtedly intended as that of friendliness.

"I'm Alex."

His response was short. It was that of a child. Aaron expected no less of a forth grader. What he did not expect, however, was the second part;

"Wanna play with us?"

"Pardon?"

He gasped, in tones of expressed shock. He almost closed the book in his haste to give the boy- Alex, apparently- double take. But he didn't see anything, save for what he'd already seen. A kind, sincere nine year old who wanted to play with him.

"Well,"

Said Alex.

"Do you want to play with us? We're gonna play tag, but it's more fun with more people."

His sincerity was what got to him. Aaron inhaled through his nose. He was about to reply with something undoubtedly rude, when one of the boys behind Alex burst out with a quick,

"Wait, Alex, Aaron isn't nice."

It was Gilbert. He told the other children to call him Gil, because none of them could pronounce his name. Aaron, who very well could, had laughed about the nickname on multiple occasions. Perhaps that was why Gilbert hated him so much.

"What?"

Alex looked back, his small ponytail flicking the back of his neck. He sounded concerned.

"What do you mean? He just looks lonely."

Lonely. Aaron had never considered that one before. He supposed that he had, upon further recollection, but he had not, in fact, been unhappy with the fact. He'd grown accustomed to it. It was simply one of those things.

"Gil is right."

Said Hercules, who often chastised others for not referring to him by his name as opposed to calling him Zeus. Aaron guessed that he didn't appreciate the gesture.

"He's a bully. He makes other people feel bad."

The explanation was as succinct as he suspected of a fifth grader, but not, apparently, satisfactory for Alex, who turned back around to look at Aaron.

"It's okay. You can play with us anyway."

He offered, his tone sweet.

"No."

Breathed Aaron, overwhelmed by the abundance of kindness. He could not, no matter what Alex said, play with any of them. They would not allow a cynic such as him to join in. And he, with his own expectations, would not allow himself to do so.

It was with a frown that Alex and his friends finally retreated. And Aaron did what could have been expected under such circumstances.

He opened his book and resumed reading.

Alex, despite both Aaron and his friends' protesting of the matter, continued to walk over to ask Aaron if he wanted to play. Each time, he'd crouch by him and smile that sickly sincere smile. And each time, Aaron would refuse.

What, he wondered sometimes, was wrong with him? After Alex's persistence to see him engaging in social activity, he, of all people, had the nerve to ruin it? This was not only atrocious, but unacceptable. He could only assume that Alex would grow weary of his endeavor and eventually leave him be.

But he did not. For months, it continued. After a while, there stopped being children at his side. He was alone when he went over, and alone when he walked back. The only thing that did not dissipate after time was his enthusiasm.

One morning, however, it was particularly cold. Aaron held a rather thick book on his lap and bundled in his coat. On crisp mornings such as this, he wondered why the teachers did not take the liberty of keeping the children inside during recess.

Still, he had his book. And in his mind, that meant he wanted for nothing.

He was reading in silence for a while, listening to the kids play on some level. It was past the time when Alex was due to walk over and invite him to play. His eyes flickered up once or twice in a bit of a guilty curiosity. He dare not admit it to himself, but he half wanted Alex to walk over.

A few moments later, however, the boy was there again. Except now, he merely took a seat at his side. He smiled briskly when Aaron looked at him.

"Gilbert says I can't play with them anymore unless I stop trying to get you to come over."

He said, as if this was a normal thing. His tone was bright. He didn't seem to understand why he too was being shunted out. Aaron pitied the ignorance.

"But maybe we can just play together for a while. They'll notice that you aren't as bad as they think, and then-"

Aaron looked at him in shock and wonder. The boy clearly had no idea how horrible the children could be. Or how rightly horrible they were. That a sweet nine year old like Alex was caught in Aaron's mess was a grievance. So with an inhalation, he set to fix it the only way he could.

"Alex, they don't exclude me because they're wrong about me. They leave me behind because I'm a jerk. I'm rude. I have no social skills. And they'll exclude you too."

Alex blinked uncomprehendingly and said,

"But you're not a jerk."

"Yes, I am."

Aaron's reply was like the rapid fire of a gun. He didn't mean for it to come out as harshly as it did, but there was no taking it back.

"I am a big jerk, that's why I have no friends."

The other boy smiled at this, his expression soft.

"I'm your friend."

Aaron stood. As much as he wanted a friend, and he did not want to say that he wanted a friend, he couldn't bear for Alex to see the cynical side of him after he got attached. So, he said,

"No. You're not. I have no friends. And you're dumb not to have noticed that already."

This made the other recoil with a mildly hurt expression on his face. But before he could speak, Aaron continued.

"That's why they're excluding you now. Because you're dumb. So you need to go say sorry to them and leave me to my seclusion. Don't be dumb, Alex."

Then he stood, hugging the book to his chest and looking past the kicked puppy look that Alex bore. Without another word, he turned and hurried to another corner of the playground and dropped to be sitting.

As he opened it again, he wondered briefly if Alex might follow him. But he never found out, because the bell rang only moments later.

Aaron didn't know what he expected in the weeks that followed his rudeness. Would Alex tell a teacher? Would he do as Aaron advised and go back to hang out with his friends? Would the insult bounce off of him and would he continue to be as sweet as he was before?

But none of the scenarios played out. In fact, despite Alex's continued presence in school, he wasn't ever in sight on the playground. Aaron went back to sitting, uninterrupted in his corner. Once or twice, Gilbert, Hercules, and their other friend, John had swung by to ask after Alex.

Aaron had had no answer on any of these occasions, so he had merely shrugged and continued to read. His extensive knowledge of higher level vocabulary was something that kept him with a love for books. Which was fortunate, as he could garnish no love for anything else on the corner of the playground.

On the morning that came exactly a month after he'd called Alex dumb, Aaron went to the library to check out a book. But the one that he wanted was already checked out. This shouldn't have been surprising, except for the fact that he was the only student who consistently checked out books from the library.

Especially books with as many pages as that one. He pondered it then went to the checkout desk, gingerly tapping the bell to alert either the librarian or a student assistant of his presence. He'd grabbed another book on his way there.

He had a suspicion as to who'd checked it out, but he couldn't say for certain. When the student assistant came out, he wondered if his wager was correct. Then, he presumed to ask her if she had checked it out.

"Angelica,"

He prompted, his tone light. Angelica didn't exactly like Aaron, but she was not as cruel as the other students. She might have spent time with Aaron at recess and such, but she was constantly busy with extracurriculars. Besides, the two were hardly friends. They merely bonded over a love of reading.

"Did you check out The Mirror Thief?"

His tone was cautious, as ever, but he was relatively comfortable with the other student. Such was demonstrated as he slid his book over to her for her to scan. But he was surprised when she shrugged.

"I did once. Not recently, though. The last person to check it out was um,"

She paused, her eyebrows furrowed. Her expression was intense with thought. Perhaps it was a big question.

"That forth grader. Not a forth grader. Fifth grader. Should be a forth grader, but he's too smart. He's in your class, um, Allen?"

Angelica did not have a history of having a bad memory with names. But perhaps Alex hadn't actually been as bold in his introduction with her as he had with Aaron. And that alone was worrisome. So he said,

"Alex."

"Yes, that one! He seems like a voracious reader."

The word used was another example of the fact that the two of them read far too much. But Aaron didn't consider that to be a real concept, and neither did Angelica, so he skimmed over it. Instead, he smiled and took back his book, resting it in the crook of his elbow.

"Thanks."

Such proved as a suitable goodbye, for Angelica had nothing to add. Aaron quickly turned and exited the library, hurrying to class, which would be starting soon enough.

Recess came all too soon. But Aaron didn't mind. He held his book under his arm, but walked quickly past his spot in the corner. He had a suspicion, now, of where Alex might be. He turned the corner through the trees and came up to the abandoned tetherball court.

He'd hardly been in this part of the playground, but he had once. He knew it to be the ideal hiding place as nobody ever found themselves in it. He loved the view from the spot of the rest of the playground.

But what caught his attention was Alex, seated in the corner of the court, and reading the book in a manner similar to that of Aaron's. He watched the younger boy's eyes skim the words before walking over and taking a seat, wordlessly, beside him.

Alex looked up, surprised. He might have said something. But Aaron had already opened his book and began to read. He did not intend to make conversation. He only wanted to do for Alex what he had done for him; and that was to keep him company.

Despite this desire, as the days passed in a way like this, eventually, the two started to discuss the books they read. There was a sober quality to Alex's mannerisms, but he still had the endearing sincerity in his character. For that, Aaron was grateful. But he never mentioned it.

There were a lot of things that he didn't mention, in those first few months. He did not wish to break the tentative friendship that he'd formed with the nine year old. However, eventually, things started to slip out as he got more comfortable. And instead of being turned away, Alex was kind.

He gave advice, only quick, friendly pieces of information and perspective that Aaron had not previously considered. Their conversations wandered beyond the books they read to their hobbies, their hopes, their dreams. Eventually, the two stopped bringing books to the spot altogether.

By the time the end of the school year rolled around, they'd formed what was more of a strong bond. Aaron couldn't help but wonder how, exactly, he'd pave the road to the future of their friendship, but when he voice his concerns to Alex, all the younger boy had said was,

"You're not the only one who's paving."

Which did not fail to reassure him. Alex did, in eventuality, reestablish his bond with John, Gilbert, and Hercules. Gilbert had gone as far as to hug Aaron while yelling that he was wrong about him and that he was not, in fact, a big fat rear end.

Aaron had only smiled. The feeling of mutual acceptance was enough to capture that moment in his heart. There were simply no words to describe how he felt.

Despite his fear of their friendship losing strength, Aaron and Alex stayed best friends through middle school. Aaron remained cynical, but Alex cheerfully encouraged all such mannerisms and even replicated some in his own behavior. It didn't fail to drive their other friends- because, yes, they had other friends!- crazy, but they continued anyway, with the knowledge that they'd always have each other.

Aaron would later describe high school as more of a roller coaster than middle or elementary. Alex would presume to smile and nudge his arm. The two did have some interesting experiences, but not once did their friendship falter. Yet, at that point, they considered themselves to be more brothers than friends.

And Aaron decided, as he looked up as where Alex gave his valedictorian speech, that loneliness was something that everybody was bound to experience once and a while. But he also decided, as he made his way to accept his diploma, that it was alright to be lonely once and a while.

The word, however, was not synonymous with always. He supposed that "loneliness" was a better synonym for "temporary," but if he really wanted to be cynical, he'd have used "seclusion."

Despite all the pondering, he thought as he embraced the man who, in his heart, remained the boy who had spoken to the cynic on the playground, it really didn't matter.

Because to him, loneliness was in the past. And he was looking to the future.

But he wasn't doing it alone.

Author's note: You can just call me the platonic relationships guy because that's what I'm gonna be doing here. I hope you enjoyed, and have a beautiful day!