I wasn't Hatred I Felt // Jamilton

Chapter 4

As soon as he got back to his dorm, Hamilton took a long and most definitely needed shower. Something about the steamy hot water cascading down his skin, giving him goosebumps as soon as it touched? It felt like heaven to him.

Another thing needed was a washing of his hair. Despite his need to do it more often, he rarely washed it. He only washed his hair about 4 times a month at best. It wasn't often he did a good cleaning either, but he felt like it was a good day.

Hamilton allowed himself to sort of massage conditioner into his hair as hot water hit his nape. It wouldn't be much of a big deal to most people, but he wasn't most people. He was Alexander Hamilton, a man who needed a much better hygienic routine, and today was the day he started it.

When he got out of the shower, he was covered by simply two towels: one wrapped around his hair, the other around his waist. He looked in the mirror. He never hated his body; in fact, he was quite satisfied with it. Even with injury scars all over his body from his adolescent years, he was content with how he appeared.

Except for his face.

Hamilton never liked the slight acne that rested on his face, nor the peach fuzz he couldn't even try to grow out. He never liked his dark eyes as they weren't what he considered interesting, and he was told his eyebags made him look creepy. The only few things he really even liked about his face was his eyebrows and hair. He thought of them as simply 'good enough'.

After a moment of sombering in his thoughts, he decided to do his hair. Why? He just felt like it.

Most of the time, whenever he went anywhere, the most he would do was curl his hair. It was either that or let his semi-wolfcut stay as flat as humanly possible.

This time, Hamilton was going to actually do something. It was a bit of a long process, but he had the time. He had to not only endlessly brush his hair, but also had to care for it with special hair products. Even so, he likes the peacefulness of the situation.

In the end, he had a bunch of curlers in his hair, as he lay on the cloudlike material they called covers.

Not even two minutes after Hamilton found himself curled into his bed, a knock arrived upon his door.

"Who is it?" Hamilton asked with a groan as he made his way to the door.

"You already know who. " Said a familiar voice.

. . .

"You look weird with those in, you know that?" Hamilton's closest friend, John Laurens said nothing to his hair curlers, most likely rhetorically.

"You always say I look weird."

The group of four leaned upon the edges of the bed as they played the card game, Go Fish.

"Stop looking at my cards!" Marquis De Lafayette yelled to Hercules, the boy sitting next to him.

"If anything you're looking at my cards," He said as he lounged across the bed.

"Imbécile."

"Turd Bucket."

Just as Hercules made his absurd response, Lafayette released a rant of insults in his native language.

"Alex, have any queens?" John asked, ignoring the two.

"Fuck you." Hamilton responded with a laugh, throwing the card over to John as a smile appeared on his face.

After finishing up their game, they all sat on Hamilton's bed while talking, Hamilton being in the slightest productive by undoing his hair curlers.

"It must a suck to have Jefferson as a roomie."

Huh? Hamilton was a bit caught off guard, as he wasn't paying much attention to their conversation.

"Hm? I mean, I guess. He's not the worst presumably. He takes care of himself and his surroundings. As you can see, the room's practically spotless."

"Do you have something you want to say, Mon ami?" Lafayette asked, amusement on his face.

"In what sense?" Hamilton asked, having an assumption of what he meant.
"Defending the man you used to consider a horrible person? A bit weird, non?"

Hercules slightly chuckled, and John looked a bit worried.

"Did you two become friends or something? I thought that'd be impossible." He murmured.

"Well it's not impossible," Hamilton started before regretting his words. "But no, we're not friends, we just put up with each other."

"I'll believe you then." John said, sarcastically throwing his hands in the air.

Word Count: 755