It must be nice... (Jamilton)

-Interlude-

A long three days passed. Thomas had been in trouble despite his family's concern for his rough and emotional appearance after he had come home that very eventful Wednesday. His mother seemed to show concern in her own way, and she expressed this to the other adults in the house. 

["I'm telling you Peter" said Mrs. Jefferson. "He's acting up again I really don't know what's wrong with him" she remarked, seeming annoyed but most of all stressed. "Well he seemed alright for a while." Replied Mr. Jefferson, Thomas's father. The man was standing in the kitchen beside his stressed wife, seeming exhausted, bags under his eyes, his skin pale and already wrinkling from stress at his age. "That's what I'm trying to say!" she replied with annoyance, "He's never going to grow up to be a functioning adult." she breathed out, shaking her head. "He'll grow up real fast if I pull out the belt" said Mr. Jefferson simply, standing up straight from the leaning position he was in, as if ready to exit this conversation. Mrs. Jefferson shook her head "And when has that ever worked on him? Peter be serious" she scolded, but the man before her didn't take the criticism very lightly. "Oh I am serious." he responded sternly, "That boy should've been sent off to boarding school years ago. Maybe then we wouldn't have these problems" he added gruffly. The woman beside him sighed as she slicked her hair back with her hands, "We can't just send him away, he's our son" she responded. "Well something is wrong with the sons in this family. The only one to survive clearly isn't right in the head" he said lowly, a loud silence fell. "How could you say that?" Mrs. Jefferson seemed angry, her face contorting into an offended one as she spoke. 

Jefferson found himself standing halfway down the fancy white stairwell as he listened to his parents' voices' ring out in the late and dark night, echoing from the kitchen, which had the only turned on bright light within the house. Thomas could feel the shame rise up and choke him as his throat tightened. A sense of rebellious anger surged inside him, making him feel like that familiar 14-year-old boy again, talking back to his parents and arguing. By now the difference was he felt a sense of embarrassment which resembled a direct blow to the face. He felt a type of shame which made him want to hide himself away from his family. He finally decided he had enough and his heart couldn't take listening to any more negative murmuring. The boy bowed his head as he slowly and carefully climbed back up the staircase to return to the comfort of his room. He was undoubtedly tired but that growing pit in his stomach could not let him sleep.]

It was now Sunday. This was the weekend which Hamilton had planned to rehearse the project that he had worked so hard on. Beside his work, he had another thought on his mind - but decided to save it until the end of the session. Hours had passed and both the boys were packing up a mess of scribbled notes off of the local library table. The room held bookshelves of many colourful books and a table in the centre with recording microphone which had cables perfectly fitted for jamming into laptops. These black mics sat in the centre of the hexagon shaped tables being held by a drilled in plastic holder which latched onto the edges of the hollow circle in the middle of the tables. It was quite a neat design, especially since place had recording rooms which people could ask permission to use. How thoughtful of the government to put money into such a helpful little idea - ofcourse that did not stop kids from occasionally wandering inside and tearing the place apart. So the bright mint walls tended to be covered in marker or something of the sort. 

Hamilton was fixated on packing away his small laptop when suddenly a thought resurfaced in his mind and he looked to Burr. "Hey Aaron" he caught the other's attention. "Yeah?" Burr looked up at him as he ordered notes on the small brown table. "How did you find out John likes me?" he asked casually, catching the other slightly off guard. "Oh, uhm..." but Hamilton barely gave the time to let him finish as he impatiently spoke up again. "Thomas told me that you heard it from him" he explained, at which Burr paused, before slowly standing up straight, his posture fixed. Alexander was confused by the change in demeanor and furrowed his eyebrows as he watched, stuck in place. "Why were you talking to Thomas." Burr's voice became unusually cold, confusing the short boy even further. "Huh..?" he'd not yet realised he needs a filter. "Why were you talking to Thomas about it?" he repeated. That's when the realisation hit and Alex's eyes widened for a split second. "Oh shit." he whispered. "What was that?" asked Aaron, causing Alex to shake his head. "Nevermind, sorry, forget about it" he dismissed, his heart rate slightly spiking as he awkwardly went back to shoving his laptop into his black school bag. Aaron seemed to contemplate for a moment before once more glancing at the nervous boy beside him, "Look I don't know what Thomas told you" said Burr calmly, "But I'm sure he twisted the facts" Aaron stated. Alex shook his head as he mumbled under his breath, the image of Thomas's eyes glistening with tears under the golden shimmer of the evening sun haunting his mind once more, "I'm sure he didn't..."