Tango

You have the hands of an angel

The next day Alexander was far more enthusiastic about their stay in France. His preconceived notions now thrown to the wind, allowed him to actually enjoy himself, in the comfort of a supportive environment, and the knowledge that here, he was no one. A stranger. A vague figure people will forget about as soon as they pass by. Permitted him to feel normal again. Wanting to use as much of that privilege as he could, Hamilton persuaded the Virginian to go for a walk. Thomas was nothing more than thrilled at the newfound excitement his significant other showcased. The couple had found themselves taking a stroll along a small stream that ran nearby, as to not veer too far away, and find their way back. And for the first time in his life, the shorter man felt like his other half seemed awfully quiet.

"Did something happen, Thomas? Did I say anything wrong?"

The older snapped out of his thoughts.

"Hm? No? Why do you ask?"

"You haven't said a single word this whole time. That's not like you."

"Oh, sorry. I fell down memory lane for a moment. I didn't mean to make you feel guilty." He looked him in the eye.

"Memory lane, huh? Would you mind sharing that memory? I feel like your memories from here would be a lot happier, than the ones you told me at the airport."

The older man exhaled matter of factly.

"I guess you're right, although this specific memory wasn't from here. A bench, do you want to sit?" He offered.

"Volontaire, nom chéri." Alex joked putting on his best French accent, making Jefferson chuckle as they sat down.

"This memory isn't necessarily happy either. It just... came to me during a small retrospect, I suppose."

The brunet frowned, confused.

"I guess this is the story of how I got the cane. But I'm warning you, it's not as exciting as you may think."

"Well, that's somewhat anticlimactic, Thomas. One would think you slew a dragon, you're so secretive about it, and now you precede your story with that?"

"You be the judge I guess. Fourteen years ago, when I was still studying in Paris, I met a girl..."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" The other teased.

"I liked her a lot, and I thought she liked me too. We hung out together quite often. Maria Cosway. She was here to study, from the US."

The Caribbean motioned for him to keep going.

"At the time, my mother was still pestering me about a bride. She wouldn't stop talking about it, and Maria... I actually really liked her." He looked off into the distance. "So I pursued her. There was a time I really thought she could be the mother of my future child that my mother so greatly desired. The last time I saw her was right before I had to go back to New York, so I wrote her a letter; essentially confessing my love for her but, I told her everything. Presenting it as a dialog between my head and my heart. The two argued. In my head, I knew she was the one, we would've been the perfect couple in my mother's eyes... but to my heart, it didn't feel right. I knew that even if she'd agree and we'd be together, I wouldn't truly be happy. I'd only be fulfilling my mother's wants and, not my own."

"And what did she say?" Alexander was on the edge of his seat.

"...She never wrote back..."

"WHAT?! Are you serious?" The younger man had one hand on his stomach, offended.

"Completely."

"She didn't write back? Not even a, sorry I'm not interested. Nothing? What a... bitch."