Tango

A Whole Other Beast

Things around the office had become pretty gloomy. Alex had suddenly cut all ties with Thomas, not even answering his emails. And his long-time friend was now avoiding him like the plague. Madison's words began to swirl around in his head again. Was it true? Were they just in a honeymoon phase? A state of bliss? Was it all just a bunch of lies? Had it now come to an end, and at the very first sign of struggle, they didn't make it? No, that can't be. Would Alex really just shut him out like that? He loved him. Didn't he? After what had happened at Monticello, maybe Alexander saw something that changed his mind? Was it all too much? Was Thomas too overbearing? Endless questions were swimming around in his head - day after day. Thomas replayed every conversation, every interaction, searching for clues as to what might have provoked this. What could he have done differently? Was it something he had said or done? He tried looking through all his faults.

A week without seeing Alex at work and Thomas began to be miserable. He wouldn't leave his office, not even for meetings - he didn't want to go sit in that seat to the left of Washington and have to stare at the empty chair in front of him. Preferably, waiting for James to fill him in on what was discussed. He wouldn't come out to the break room, not even bothering to have coffee. He would stay more and more, long past midnight, thinking that if he engulfed himself in his work, he would stop thinking about it, that he would stop thinking about Alex but no. No matter what he did, his mind always reverted back to the same topic, the same person. The Virginian would find himself looking over documents and then notice droplets on the paper to then realize they were his own tears. What went wrong? Why had Alex cut him off? He still wasn't answering his text or responding to his emails. If Thomas had done something wrong. Why wouldn't Alex say so and say, what was the problem?
The week after that Thomas, stopped caring. If Alex didn't give a damn about him, then why should he? He didn't have anyone whom he had to impress. It didn't matter anymore. He'd come back home and forgo the shower. He'd skip workdays; he had enough work done ahead of time that he could just not show up. When he would indeed show up to work, people stared. What had happened to Jefferson? His clothes were disheveled, his face tired - dark circles under his eyes, hair unwashed, matted. Gone were the days of the expertly trimmed beard as he let his facial hair grown into an untamed bush. When he walked, he would lean more on his cane, not even willing to walk. Why was he even still going to work? He had enough cash to throw it all out of the window, say "Fuck it!" and retire. He began to drink in the evening. Every-evening. Sometimes he would even forget to eat. He had noticed the way Lafayette looked at him when he thought Thomas didn't see; this look of disgust etched into his features.

Close to a month after he had last seen Hamilton, Jefferson gave up. He had been asked by Washington to attend a meeting, and the whole time he did not lift his gaze from that cursed chair. In fact, at some point. He just got up without a word and slowly left the room as everyone watched, not even questioning his behavior any longer. He left the meeting room and decided there was no point anymore. His job sucked. His closest friend was condescending and kept nagging him with I told you so's. His long-time friend, who he had considered family, hated him now, and the love of his life had left him with no reason whatsoever. He was a lowlife.

As he packed his bag to leave early, he could hear someone run into his office and lock the door behind them. He didn't pay it any mind and just kept packing.

"Qu'est-ce que tu es en train de faire?!" Said a suprised french accent.

"And why the hell would you care?"

He slurred, not even turning around to look at who had spoken. He didn't have to, he knew exactly, who was behind his back, and frankly, he didn't want to see him, didn't want to look back into those judgemental eyes.

"Thomas, it isn't that simple."

"Oh yeah, right. Fuck you. I asked you to do something. And look what happened." He spoke, miserable.