Let Me Inside Your Heart || Jamilton

Pride

I have never agreed with Jefferson once...

______________________________________

"Please, Thomas." Begging. The proud scholar was practically begging the obnoxious Virginian for his hospitality. He felt all his pride go up in flames along with his house. The word 'please' rarely escaped the mouth of Alexander Hamilton, of all the words that did. The most he said it was in a sarcastic tone. But this was genuine pleading. He could get a hotel if need be, but he'd rather not. He would have to get a new house, or have the one in flames rebuilt, and God knows the cost of that. It seemed so far gone already. It would be less financial strain to stay with someone else for a night or two. He was snapped out of his thoughts by Jefferson's reply. "What's going on?" He asked, sounding genuinely confused. Yes, yes, he thought. What possibly could be so bad that Alexander Hamilton is asking the great Thomas Jefferson for help? he thought bitterly, his mind filling the unspoken words with resentful sarcasm. "I'll tell you when I get there," he snapped, just to find a reason to oppose his rival, even in such a childish and minor way. But Jefferson was having none of it. "I'd like to know why I'm so generously considering letting you into my home." Alex huffed, rolling his eyes. The action was invisible to the man on the phone, but he seemed to detect it. "I could always just let you stay at your place and struggle," he warned. "I have no place," Alexander responded weakly. "It's currently burning to the ground. Along with, you know, everything I own."

There was a shocked pause. "...come right on over. I'll unlock the door now." Then with a beep, the line disconnected and Alex was left alone with his thoughts. He stared at his house for about five more minutes. He wasn't the sentimental type, but all his memories of Laurens were gone. And that hit him hard. Maybe he still had them in his mind, but the pictures, the letters - gone. Alex had a few on his phone, he remembered. It didn't do much, but it relaxed him a bit. Enough to where he felt as if he could drive. Not even feeling the bitter cold that was biting into his face and hands, he climbed into his car and was about to start on his way. It took him a moment before he realised he had no idea of the location in which Jefferson resided. He had to text him. Once he got the address, he put it into the GPS on his phone and headed off.

The drive was long, but to Alexander it only lasted about two minutes. Everything seemed to be happening so quickly, while his mind was creating a haze to protect his already fragile mind from the reality of what was to come - a lot of debt. And a night with Jefferson. If not one, then more. Maybe even a month. Oh, how he despised the thought. More than he despised the man himself. He could still feel the heat of the fire. Normally, Alex hated the cold. He couldn't stand it. But now he would welcome it. The heat was like a cruel ghost clinging to him, a constant reminder of what he had lost. He wasn't granted a single moment of blissful neutrality - the times when your mind wanders to something random, or simply nothing at all. No. Every single second he could feel the weight of his debt on him. He was too stressed to even feel much anger at the moment. He pulled up to the house of his long time enemy, dreading knocking on the door. But he did.

"Hamilton," Thomas greeted, answering the door almost right away. "Jefferson," he responded gruffly, refusing to look him in the eye. "Come right in. I have the guest room already made up for you. You can go get some clothes tomorrow - as of now, you should rest." "You can't order me around as if you're my mother," he said angrily. He was being like a spoiled child for no reason at all other than being upset. That was just Alex, though. "You could at least show some gratitude," he muttered as he led him to the guest room. Alexander found himself glancing around at the house - and damn, it was nice. It had to be at least three stories tall. The floor was a lovely hardwood, the walls an off-white. Well-furnished was an understatement. There seemed to be a neatly placed chair or sofa at every turn. They arrived at the guest room - it was actually quite large. "You'll get a tour tomorrow." His voice had been relatively warm at first, but it had returned to it's usual arrogant, annoying tone. Alex didn't care. He sat down on the bed. The flooring here was carpet - a hue of purple that Alexander considered hideous. The walls were white, though. There was a large walk-in closet, a dresser, a nightstand, a decently sized bed, a desk, a television, and a sofa. Rich son of a bitch.

He had so much to do tomorrow. Even if he had a temporary place to stay, he didn't have anything to work with. Not even pencil and paper. There was no way that he was going to ask Jefferson for this material - even though he would surely have it. He already had to stay in his home - he didn't want to make himself look completely helpless, at least. He would go out and buy a new laptop tomorrow. Simple as that. He needed all the money he had for a house - but without a laptop, he wouldn't be able to work. Not working meant no money. With a resigned sigh, Alexander laid back on the bed. He hadn't even realised how tired he was until his head hit the soft mattress. Within moments, he was asleep.

It only felt like a few moments had passed when Alex opened his eyes. His sleep had been so rudely disturbed by the voice of the arrogant Virginian, with whom he was residing temporally. "Rise and shine," he drawled in his light southern accent. Alex immediately flipped him off, burying his face in the duvet. "You live here, you go by my rules," he said simply. He groaned. "But why?" he asked, his voice similar to that of a whining child. "Because I said so," came the obnoxious reply. Alex sat up, untangling himself from the duvet which he had burrowed himself in sometime in the night. The other man stared at him with wide eyes. "Put some fucking clothes on, Hamilton!" he yelled, turning on his heel and slamming the door as he exited. He looked down at himself. He must have thrown his clothes off in a half-conscious state in the night. Yes, Alexander was one to sleep naked.

And Jefferson had seen him.