Dear, Hamilton

Stranger Danger

I'm awoken by a groan of pain. My eyes fly open and immediately land on Hamilton, whose eyes are still closed as he rubs at his head with a hand. I sit up in bed, and the bed gives a small creak in response. 

"Laurens, remind me to never drink ever again," Hamilton groans.

"Will do," I chirp. 

At the sound of my voice, he startles, eyes flying open as he abruptly sits up. The next moment the covers fly off of him as he shoves to his feet. 

"Eliza," he says, voice stiff and eyes guard. "What are you doing here? I thought you went home."

"No, I helped you up the stairs to this room last night," I tell him. "I mean, you did warn me to not wander the tavern alone, and I would've been doing that if I had gone back downstairs. Plus, I lost Angelica and Laurens, so I was stuck with you for the night."

He lets out a sigh as he messages between his eyes with a hand before turning away from me. "Laurens is the next room over, so you can head over there right now so I can sleep in peace," he tells me as he waves a flippant hand. 

His voice is indifferent. 

Involuntarily, tears spring to my eyes at his cruel words, and a tear slides down my cheek before I hastily wipe it away. "Sure thing," I respond, trying to keep my voice even, but it trembles despite my best efforts. 

I get off my bed and hurriedly slip on my shoes before I walk to the door. I keep my gaze averted as I walk past him, cheeks burning with humiliation. How could I have possibly thought that he would have forgiven me?

My hand is just turning the doorknob when Hamilton says, "Wait."

 I stop in my tracks and twist around to face him. He slumps down onto the edge of his bed with a tired sigh before patting the spot beside him. I hesitate for a moment before walking over and sitting on the edge of his bed.

Four feet of space separate us. It feels like a mile. 

He looks up at me with sorrowful eyes. Silence stretches between us before he asks in a low voice, "Were you just crying?"

"What? No," I reply too quickly for it to be anything but a lie.

He looks down, an expression akin to shame crossing his face, before he says, "I'm sorry, Eliza, for acting so cruel towards you. It was very ungentlemanly of me. I didn't mean anything I said. I'm sorry." His voice cracks a little when he speaks this last sentence.

I hesitate to forgive him immediately, so I ask, "Do you believe me when I say I wasn't kissing Monroe of my own intention? That he forced me into it?"

"Of course, yes," he responds, blue eyes bright with earnest. "But can you just explain to me what happened?"

I take an unsteady breath before launching into the story about Monroe's bitterness over Hamilton supposedly stealing me away and how he had then proceeded to kiss me. When I finish, my eyes dip down to the bed, and I notice his hands are clenched so tightly that his knuckles have turned white. 

But then Hamilton unclenches them and sighs once more before replying, "Let's just never mention James Monroe again."

I nod and smile a little bit, but he must've still seen the hesitation in my eyes over his earlier apology because he moves closer to me and whispers, "I'm so sorry, Eliza. Please forgive me."

"I forgive you," I tell him quietly. He smiles hesitantly and brings a hand up to touch my cheek, the back of his fingers leaving the barest traces on my skin.

Suddenly, a loud, insistent knock sounds from the door, and Hamilton and I jump apart in surprise. 

"I'll get it," he hurries to tell me before he slides on his boots and strides to the door. When he opens the door, he only widens it by a crack, and most of his body blocks my view out the door, so I have to rely on the voice of the person to discern their identity.