When Two Worlds Split

Together

I entered the room located to the right of the living room. The door was wide, but loose. The handle was a block of wood. I felt Lafayette's presence behind me. His shadow fell over me.
I took a step into the small room. There was one dresser, one mirror, no windows, and a extremely low ceiling. General Washington would not fit in here, considering his height.

I took another step in, walking around to the other side of the room. Without warning, Lafayette walked towards the dresser and began to take off the clothes he wore during the day. He changed into his night shirt, and he took off his socks, and shoes. I felt my cheeks turn crimson when I noticed his back, and his strong shoulders. I turned away to have some sensibility.

"There's only one bed in here, Marquis." I said, entering the second room of the cabin.

"I know," He said, turning on another kerosene lamp, that was held by the queen sized bed.
I saw the warm light hit the white of his eyes, reflecting off to create the beautiful painting of the room, in his irises.
I saw my own, dirty face in his eyes, as well.

"I'll cuddle with you, but nothing more." I said, sitting at the edge of the weak bed.

"I know. I figured I could hear about what it's like, back at home." Lafayette's voice was low, at this time.
I unfurled my jacket, leaving only the makeshift cloth binder, pants, and my now off-white shirt. That wasn't very much, for what I used to wear.

"You look prettier in these clothes than that overweight dress."
He said, leaning back against the bed stand, glaring at the low ceiling. The cabin creaked in the night wind, the logs keeping it together siting, like an old house.

"I feel better in these clothes, too. You lucky men." I laid next to him, as he unbuttoned his shirt, showing his bare chest.
I inhaled, figuring it was okay to do the same thing with my cloths on.
I unbuttoned my own white shirt.

"So, what's Stephen like?" Marquis asked, turning his head toward me.

"Prick." I murmured.

"You won't actually marry him, now?" He questioned.

"No. I won't. No matter what it takes." I huffed.

"Even if it means running away." He finished my sentence.

"Right."

I leaned against him, as he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

"He... he's a coward, Lafayette." I raised my head to his.

"I know. He didn't volunteer for the war. He was too busy."

"After father started throwing away your letters, he visited me. Harassed me."

"Your father was throwing away my letters?" Lafayette glared.

"Yes."

"Bastard. No wonder he likes Stephen,"

"Do you know what Stephen said to me?"

"What terrible thing did that coward mutter to you?"

"He said, and I quote, "I could not waste my time. I have wealth to take care of...
Children to have." I uttered.

"That son of a bitch." Lafayette's chest rose and fell angrily.

"I will never marry him." I slid my hand onto his chest, just to feel his heart. Just to make sure this whole situation was real.

"Don't you ever doubt, Peggy, I would never be a man like him."

"I never doubted, Marquis."

I neared him, feeling my chest against his side. I lifted my chin, my eyes meeting his collarbone and his jawline. He glared at my complexion. My warm cheeks, and my arched eyebrows. We met each other's eyes, and we kissed. It was a familiar warmth, of lips on lips, and two hearts beating faster for each other.
His breath filled my senses, his passion invigorating. His hands held my waist, and his hair fell over my face. Lafayette's arms curled around my back, and his legs intertwined with mine. I let my hands run through his hair that set at the nape of his neck. They reached foreword, to the back of his head. This sensation wouldn't last forever.
I wanted it to.
I took in a breath, then leaned back, taking the damp air in the room. My hands were still in his hair, and my legs partly intertwined with his. The taste of him lingered on me, his smell swirling around my skin. My chest was still pressed against his own.

Lafayette laid there, staring up at the ceiling. The light spread hazily across the room, cascading over the old wood.

"Stephen knows about Laurens and Hamilton." I said. The mention of his name made Lafayette's eyebrows arch.

"No one cares for that, anymore. Now that-" Lafayette's voice broke.

"It's not your faul-"

"It is!" His voice raised.

"It's my fault for letting it happen. I knew someone would die. But I never spoke a word." He started to tear up.

"No, no..." I felt myself well up, as well. I leaned my head against his shoulder, feeling one hot tear from his eyes leak onto my hand, which was wrapped around the side of his neck.

"I know it's hard. To lose someone." I said.

"Hamilton took it hard." He said.

"I can imagine." I claimed.

Another echo of silence filled the room. His breathing and mine melted with each other.
I traced the ceiling with my eyes. The warm, yellow-orange light was like a symphony of color against the dull wood.

"There's... something I haven't told you." He blurted out.

"What's that? Tell me. I don't care what it is. Whatever it takes for you to be happy."

"Are you sure?" He avoided eye contact with me.

"Then what is so important?"

"Peggy, I'm..." He paused. "I should have told you the day we met. That glorious ball. I don't know if I should regret it, or keep it to myself."

"Just.. tell me." I sensed worry in both of our voices.

"You won't be angry, will you?" He said, holding my hand in his. He rubbed his thumb over my bare palm.

"I can't promise, but I'll try."

An odd silence reverberated off of the walls,
The sight of him beside me was something I would never forget. We were together.
Still, a unnamed unnerving feeling hit me in the chest.
He finally spoke.

"I'm married."