𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑 [𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳]

Layered Secrets

Alexander hadn't pulled his arm away.
He knew Jefferson saw the branding, he knew that Jefferson was smart enough to get a clue as to what it meant. What he didn't know, however, is why the Virginian's eyes lingered on it for so long, why he seemed generally concerned, why his grip on Alexander had tightened like he'd never see Hamilton again. It took a few minutes of silence, perhaps five, when Jefferson's grip finally softened, Alexander taking that as a cue to take his arm away, rolling his sleeve back down to his wrist.

The room had gone quiet, a contrast to how they were originally yelling at each other, no words filling the air. The only sound audible was a distant sound of walking down the hall, towards to direction of Hamilton's office, in which Jefferson took initiative and stepped forward to quietly shut the office door, locking it. He hesitated there for a moment, not turning to look at Alexander, who had retreated back to his desk, sitting in his chair.

"You can leave, now."

Alexander's tone seemed to confuse Jefferson, his shoulders squaring, him finally turning back to look at Alexander. His nose was slightly scrunched up, a frown playing on his lips, his eyes narrowed. Still, Thomas hadn't bothered to take any steps forward, nor out of the now closed door, instead leaning against it and crossing his arms.

"I'm perfectly aware I can leave now, I can leave whenever I damn please."
Jefferson spat his words like some sort of venom in his mouth, like he would die if he didn't get them out in time. His facial expressions softened for a moment, though, if Alexander were to blink, he was sure he would miss it.
"Who did that to you?"

Alexander studied Jefferson's expression for a moment, attempting to read into something that wasn't there. Well, not that he could see. He always prided himself on being able to read people like open books, knowing just what they were thinking and when. It didn't take a genius to study facial expressions, but nobody bothers checking body language, posture, tone, or appearance, either. However, it was never the same with Jefferson. The jackass was one Alexander could never study fully, could never read out, could never get right. It infuriated him.

Alexander leaned back in his seat, hands folded in his lap, feet kicked onto his desk. Which, of course, he wouldn't have done if there were papers there, but there weren't any. Jefferson repeated his question, earning a death glare from Alexander, before the immigrant decided to speak. It's not like he could really lie, or bother to lie, anyway. He doubted it was an unusual thing, to be marked like that, so he shouldn't bother covering it up.

"My boyfriend."
"Your boyfriend?"

Yet another expression flew over the Virginian's facial features after he had echoed what Hamilton said, one that Alexander didn't know for sure, but that he wrote out to be disbelief. Which, in turn, caused confusion to ride over Alexander's own features, him slowly nodding. Alexander bit his tongue for a moment, literally, sorting out what he had wanted to say before speaking.

"Why are you looking at me like that? It's not fucking unusual. Don't fucking- Don't fucking, alienate me right now."

Alexander quickly grew defensive, over what, he wasn't sure. He swallowed, quick acting frustration and irritation burning in his throat and in his stomach, undoubtedly marking his face a light red. When Alexander had finished speaking, Jefferson's deep bronze eyes widened, his lips parting ever so slightly, without any real words escaping them. It was in that moment, when Alexander really second-guessed himself, doubted what he said to be true. Still, he held his ground, crossing his arms.

"Are you a fucking idiot?"
Jefferson spoke before he bothered filtering himself, before even /thinking/ of doing so at that point. He narrowed his eyes, his nails digging into the fabric by his biceps. There was no way that Hamilton actually thought that what his 'boyfriend' did to him, was normal.
"Do you seriously think that people do that? Are you that fucking dense, that ignorant, that you think this is normal fucking behaviour?"

Normally, Jefferson was the formal one when it came to speech. It was strange for Alexander to see him, swearing up a storm, without his usual glare or smirk. He just seemed mad. With what, Alexander didn't know. He had no goddamn clue why the Virginian was so upset with him. Though, Alexander didn't allow himself any time to think about it, matching Thomas's frustration and irritation to a tee, perhaps even more than the other had felt.

"Why the hell are you questioning my business, my relationship? What we choose to do, and don't choose to do, is none of your business! He fucking loves me, and I love him. He wouldn't do anything that would hurt me."

After Alexander finished speaking, the room fell silent for a few moments, far longer than Alexander was comfortable with. He quickly grew anxious, though still challenging the eye contact with Jefferson, whose expression had fallen. Clearly, Alexander had struck a nerve - how, he didn't know - a look of a wounded dog riding over the Virginian's features. Alexander almost wanted to take back his words, but he didn't dare. Besides, by the time he had thought about doing so, Jefferson's voice was already cutting through the air, like a knife through the tension.

"What else does he do to you?"
His words were nothing like before, nothing like Alexander had ever heard come out of his mouth. They were soft, hesitant, careful. Like walking on eggshells, careful not to crack any of them. His eyes matched the tone of his words, continuously glancing down at Alexander's arm and back up to his eyes. He spoke again.
"Why did he tie you up?"

With Jefferson's first question, Alexander had stood up from his desk, walking towards the other. He was ready to push the fucker out of his office, lock the door after him, block his number, and never talk to him. It wasn't his fucking place to be questioning Alexander's relationship, it wasn't his place to be telling Alexander what's right and what's wrong, wasn't his place to be calling Alexander stupid. And he was so close, /so close/ to Jefferson, arms reach, when he heard his second question. He paused, eyes widening, looking just beyond Thomas's shoulder as if he saw something that Jefferson couldn't. Which, he could, in a way.

Thomas's eyes widened when he saw Alexander's glossing over, his face reddening ever so slightly, before a sob escaped his lips. Hamilton's hand went up to cover his mouth, his shoulders rolling over, him now looking to the ground.
Thomas wasn't sure what to do, really. He'd seen Hamilton cry, what, once? And even then, it was on the same subject matter. It was strange for Jefferson to hear himself think that the sight looked heartbreaking, that he wanted to save Alexander from the situation, that he wanted to fix everything. It killed him, that he was thinking those things. So, he swallowed and pushed them away, doing the one thing he assumed would help.
Thomas took a step forward, wrapping his arms around the other and giving a light sigh of relief when Alexander clutched onto him like he was the last thing on earth, instead of pushing him away. Thomas sighed again, lightly resting his chin on the other's head, shutting his eyes before whispering.
" 'Ts alright. I'll fix this."