Hamilton Angst stuff

Another storm cause someone suggested it

In the midst of a heavy rainstorm, Eliza Hamilton took advantage of the dreary weather to do some cleaning around their cozy apartment. As she wiped the windowsills, memories of her husband Alexander's fear of storms flooded her mind. She recalled the hurricane he experienced in the Caribbean at the age of seventeen, an event that had left him traumatized ever since.Pausing for a moment, Eliza remembered the time she found her husband weeping in the bathroom during a raging thunderstorm. It pained her even now to recall the vulnerability she witnessed in him. Determined to make sure he was alright, she decided to check on him.Eliza walked through the dimly lit hallway, following the sound of his typing on the computer. As she entered their shared study, she saw him sitting in front of the screen, seemingly transfixed by his work. She gently placed her hand on his shoulder, causing him to flinch. She noticed silent tears cascading down his face, which left her heart heavy with concern. "Alexander, are you okay?" she whispered.He turned his gaze towards her, his eyes filled with a mixture of despair and confusion. "It's raining," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Why is it still raining? I'm doing what I'm supposed to do..."Eliza couldn't hold back her own tears any longer. She embraced him tightly, her tears mingling with his. "Oh, Alexander," she whispered, her voice quivering with emotion. "I had no idea how much you were suffering. Why didn't you tell me?"Still overcome by his own emotions, Alexander struggled to find the words to respond. Eliza noticed spatters of blood on the floor surrounding him and on his sleeve. Panic gripped her heart as she questioned him about the source of the blood, and she glimpsed traces of red around his mouth every time he coughed. "Alexander, why didn't you tell me about this?" she pleaded, her voice breaking.He remained silent, unable or unwilling to verbalize his pain. Eliza repeated her question, her voice trembling with frustration and fear. The tension in the room escalated, and an intense argument ensued between them.Eliza shouted, her voice laced with anger and desperation, "I can't help you if you push me away, Alexander! We're in this together, remember?"He finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with remorse and regret. "I didn't want to burden you with my weakness, Eliza. I thought I could handle it on my own."Through tearful eyes, she reached out to cup his face gently. "You're not weak, Alexander. We all have our battles, and it's okay to seek support. We're a team, remember? We promised to face everything together."Exhausted from the emotional turmoil, they embraced once more, tears mingling with their apology and forgiveness. In that moment, they reaffirmed their commitment to each other and vowed to confront the storm that had been plaguing their lives, both metaphorically and literally.

Next day...

The fluorescent lights of the office flickered in a mocking rhythm, casting an eerie pallor over Alex's haggard face as he pushed through the glass doors. It was an ungodly hour, yet the hum of computers and the scent of stale coffee betrayed others' presence. He navigated the maze of cubicles with the precision of routine, his fingers brushing the fabric walls.

"Alex," Jefferson called out, his voice echoing in the near-empty expanse, "why the hell did you come in today?"

Alex turned. The corner of his mouth twitched into something that could have been a smirk or a wince. "Because I need to make money??" he replied, the question hanging in the air like smoke. His voice was gravel, roughened from disuse and illness.

Jefferson frowned, arms crossed over his chest. "Well, you're sick. You should stay home."

A sudden cough rattled through Alex's chest, shaking him like a leaf in a tempest. He fought for breath, his hand reflexively going to his shirt, smudging the already stained fabric. "How the hell do you know I'm sick?" he managed to gasp out between coughs.

"Maybe don't wipe the blood on your clothes, dumbass." Jefferson's tone was light, but there was an undercurrent of concern that belied his words.

Alex squinted at him, suspicion knitting his brows together. For a moment, he searched Jefferson's face, looking for traces of mockery or deceit. But all he found was something uncomfortably close to sincerity. "Why do you even care?" Alex asked, voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you're my friend, Alex," Jefferson said, his gaze unwavering.

"Since when were we friends?" Alex's laugh was hollow, the sound of it more self-deprecating than amused.

Jefferson opened his mouth, then closed it. Silence hung between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

"Exactly," Alex cut through the quiet. He turned on his heel, the soft swipe of his soles against the carpet marking his retreat.

He didn't look back to see Jefferson's reaction. Didn't need to. Alex knew the score; friendships were luxuries he couldn't afford, not when every day was a battle just to keep his head above water. As he entered the sanctuary of his office, the door clicking shut behind him, the world narrowed down to spreadsheets and deadlines. Here, at least, was something he could control.

@viktoria011818 for the suggestion (Sorry photo button's not working)