𝚜𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚎𝚌𝚑 [𝙳𝙸𝚂𝙲𝙾𝙽𝚃𝙸𝙽𝚄𝙴𝙳]

Realization

Alexander woke up to a hissing of words, and a shaking of his shoulders, in which he couldn't place who was doing so, nor could he place why. Though, what he /could/ place, was the fact that he didn't remember ever falling asleep in the first place, and he didn't remember having to be woken up. Especially not by who he now placed to be Jefferson, leaning over him.

"-ng wake up, holy hell. Hamilton!"

Alexander blinked his eyes open to see a pained expression on the Virginian's face, squinting slightly to get rid of the sun in his eyes coming through the blinds covering the window. And, when he did, and got a full study of Jefferson, his eyes widened, before he instantly stumbled away from the other simply to open the distance between the two, almost falling off of the bed to do so. The reaction only caused Thomas's face to screw into an expression of untampered confusion, a genuine look that listed a sort of ignorance that the fucker shouldn't have. He stood still for a moment, before shaking his head, reaching out to Alexander who once again crawled away from him, now backing himself to the corner of the bed. It was a lot less comfortable when he was a centimetre away from tumbling off.

"D-Don't touch me, don't even get /c-close/ to be or I swear to god I'll-"
"What the hell are you on about?"
Jefferson's voice interrupted what Alexander was originally going to say, stopping him from making whatever empty threat he was originally going to go for. Alexander took a moment to catch his quickly fading breath, attempting to stop himself from hyperventilating or developing into a panic attack that he sure as hell didn't need right now. Not here, not with him. Thomas continued to speak, the confused expression melted into an irritated one, eyebrows furrowed and a frown pulling at his full lips.
"I was trying to wake you up from a fuckin' nightmare, you ass. You woke me up by screaming, and you kept fuckin- fucking frailing around like a fish out of the water. Y'aint gonna keep running from me just 'cause you think I'm some fuckin' devil."
Thomas's Virginian drawl accented his words majorly like every single other time he ever got irritated with the shorter immigrant, him crossing his arms and glaring at Alexander. Alexander sat there still for a moment, before silently shaking his head, swallowing down a lump in his throat.

"Y-You're lying."
It took him a bit to say that, looking away from Jefferson to scan the room. The two wine bottles that were open and empty last night were now closed and full. Neither of them was naked, and Alexander was still wearing the shirt that had been peeled off of him. It showed no signs of distress, either, besides a slight wrinkle from being slept in. When Alexander finished studying the room, he looked back at Jefferson, who's confused expression was once again back on his face, riding over the irritation. It then softened, after a second, as if a realization had hit him.
"Hamilton-"
Though, before he could continue speaking, Alexander stood up from the bed, a bit shakily at that. He took a moment to steady himself, the palm of his right hand pressing against his forehead to get rid of the spike of dizziness that settled there, before he stumbled to the bathroom, not bothering to close the door after him when he turned the light on. Jefferson hesitated for a moment, before getting up and following after him, hanging in the doorway.

Alexander stared at himself in the mirror for a moment, studying what he saw. There were no marks on his neck, nothing of bites or kisses that might have now been marked into his skin like a tattoo cut into an arm. Nothing of irritation, no red blotches or teeth marks. Alexander hesitated, before lifting his hand to his shirt, hesitantly pulling it to the side to look at his shoulder. There was nothing there. No bite mark, no blood, no redness. He checked his other shoulder. Same thing, no marks. There was nothing, anywhere. No indication of anything happening.
"Alexander-"
Alexander ignored Jefferson, his gaze now lifting up to his own eyes, which were glossing over with a certain, familiar wetness that he became more than acquainted with. They made his eyes look like glass, as if they weren't real at all, reflecting the light perfectly as to make them seem lighter. Then, the tears were rolling down his cheeks, in perfect lines, a symmetrical droplet forming at his jawline before dropping to collect on the soft fabric of his shirt.

Then, there were more.
Soon enough, soft sobs escaped his lips, as Alexander slid down the wall of the bathroom until he was sitting on the floor, knees to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself. He shut his eyes, burying his face in his legs as if it made him invisible to the human eye, as if it saved him from any problems in life.
Then, there was Jefferson, idling helplessly in the doorway of the unneededly large bathroom, looking down at the broken immigrant with concern riding over his usually sharp features. He was crying. Again. And Thomas had only ideas as to why, only hints as to what the hell Alexander had dreamt about, only clues as to why he seemed so afraid of Thomas - so afraid of himself, at that.

"Hamilton, please-"
He reached out to place a light hand on the smaller males shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle and laced with great amounts of care and hesitation, only for his hand to be shrugged off, Alexander shifting to get farther away from the Virginian. And, in all honesty, Thomas didn't know what the hell to do. It was only now, when he realized how much he cared about the smaller male in front of him, how much it broke his heart to see him so upset over something that Jefferson couldn't even help - a situation so outside of his reach. He didn't know why, or how, or when any of this happened. Didn't know why he wanted to help Hamilton so badly. Didn't know /how/ to.
So, He bit his bottom lip, before backing out of the bathroom, silently shutting the door behind him before leaving downstairs, to the kitchen. God, hopefully food will help.

-------------------------------------------

When Alexander was finished, he stood up, his knees quick to give in on him, leaving him close to falling back down if he hadn't gotten a hold of the counter before he had done so, balancing and steadying himself. He stared at himself in the mirror before he willed his face to lose its redness, wiping his eyes and nose with a towel, before opening the door again, allowing himself outside. He hesitated for a moment, before going back into the bedroom to grab the items he brought with him, only then travelling downstairs.
When he did so, he was greeted with the smell of what seemed to be baked chocolate, giving a rather pleasant aroma to the house. Alexander furrowed his eyebrows, before quietly walking to the kitchen, hanging in the doorway where he saw Jefferson, prepping a plate of brownies, apparently attempting to make it look good. With how he was fussing over the display, whether they should be stacked or side by side, it was a bit amusing. Alexander cleared his throat for a moment, causing Jefferson to look up, Alexander glancing away from him.

"I'm going to go."
Thomas furrowed his eyebrows for a moment, standing up straight from where he was leaning over the plate, gaze flickering down to Alexander's bag before looking up at his face, tear stains still evident on his face.
"Wait, before you do-"
Though, Thomas didn't speak quick enough - he never seemed to be able to, at this point - as the previous sight of Alexander's front changed to Alexander's back, him retreating to the exit/entry of the house. Thomas let a small scoff escape his lips, before setting down the plate, following after Alexander.
"Hamilton, wait. Can you /please/ tell me-"
Alexander adjusted so his bag was over his shoulder.
"What did you-"
The door was open, Alexander taking a step out.
"Alexander, please, I car-"
Alexander fully stepped out of the house, the door shutting behind him, leaving Thomas cut off from his own words and standing in the hallway, alone.
He never thought that he would be so upset over Hamilton leaving his house.