Soulmate AU's (Hamilton)

Tired (jamilton)

Everyone was astonished as Alexander quietly got up, and left the meeting after Thomas had started a fight. He had walked away, posture slack, totally uninterested. His eyes were half open, and he yawned slightly as he walked down to his office. Alexander... was tired. And not sleepy tired, he was just tired of the world. He wanted everything to be quiet for once. And Alexander Hamilton hated the quiet. 

He walked back to his office, shut the door and quietly sat down in his swivel chair. He sighed, and leaned back. If Alexander was being honest with himself, he couldn't remember the last time he wasn't tired like this. It's why he was always so irritable, after all. His lack of patience for the world combined with running solely on coffee made it hard to be a decent human. He was tired of the drama, and the rivalries and the fact no politician could do their own damn work. Everyone cheated and scammed and got their way to the top. Alexander worked hard to get where he got and he wasn't going to let Thomas make accusations about him. 

But Alexander forced himself to push it aside, to let it go for now. He had a splitting headache and just wanted silence. He pulled out the headphones he kept in his desk, and placed them on, plugging them in and turning on his computer. Alexander loved to listen to music while he wrote. No matter what he was writing, whether it be his latest story or papers for work, Alexander was always listening to music while doing it. He placed the headphones over his ears, sighing contentedly at how soft the cushions felt. He started playing the music he always listened to, and opened a word document. Then he halted, staring at the document for awhile. Alexander didn't know what to write about this time, actually. He was at a loss for words, and he didn't know why. 

He leaned back in his chair, and scanned the blank document with curious eyes. What will become of you he thought, how will I mold you into a beautiful literary portrait? Alexander tapped his chin, and decided he'd think better with his hair down. So he removed the headphones, and took his hair out, ruffling it up before placing the headphones back on again. Eventually, his fingers met the keys, and Alexander started composing yet another one of his beautiful pieces of literary art. His fingers flew across the keys in a calming rhythmic motion, never once faltering. He typed in time with the music that played in his ears, the letters on the key board looking like piano keys to his brain. 

Alexander felt his body loosen, and his shoulders become less tense. He paused a moment, to crack his neck and his knuckles, before continuing to write. He wrote and wrote until there was a loud knock on his door, interrupting his process. Alexander paused his music, taking off his headphones and looking up at the person who dared to interrupt his time writing. "Hey, uh, Hamilton. Meetings over. Washington wants to see you." It was Thomas. The last person Alexander wanted to see. Alex only nodded, however, his brain too far into his writing process to be able to form words for him to speak. He rose from his chair and walked out the door and past Thomas, in his post-writing like trance. 

Thomas watched Alexander walk past him, completely horrified and anamored. What had happened to him? Was he on some new form of drug? Thomas had never seen the man so relaxed, so at peace. Thomas glanced at his computer. What on earth was he doing to make him that relaxed? Thomas had to know. So, he gracefully and swiftly made his way across the room, elegantly sitting in Alexander's chair, and moving the mouse to wake up the computer. The document was still on the screen, and Thomas was reading it immediately:

'Tired

By Alex Hamilton 

I'm tired of crying, and I'm tired of yelling. I'm tired of the constant fights and I'm tired of being sad. I'm tired of pretending and being alone, I'm tired of waking up to my baby wetting the bed because of something I did. I'm tired of being angry, I'm tired of being crazy. I'm tired of feeling stuck, and I'm tired of needing help. I'm tired of remembering everything I don't want to, and I'm tired of missing things. I'm tired of being alone, and I'm tired of  being different. I'm tired of missing things, and I'm tired of missing people. I'm tired of feeling worthless, of feeling empty inside. I'm tired of not being able to just let go, I'm tired of having to hide.  I'm tired of wishing for redoes, and wishing to start over all together. I'm tired of dreaming of a perfect life, a life I deprived myself of and will now never have. I'm tired of missing Eliza, and Philip thinking this is because of him.  I don't even remember a day when I wasn't tired, I'm always in a fight I don't want to be in. I'm sick of crying, I'm tired of trying. I know no one will get it, but I'm just very tired of everything. My brain has no heart, and my heart, no brain. So whenever I speak I sound heartless and whenever I follow my heart I look stupid. I mean, you can't follow your heart when it's more confused than your head. Honestly I don't know what to feel anymore. I'm a widow, and my child is heartbroken and damaged.