Hamilton Oneshots

Burn #3

TW: Duel, their kids being pulled into news about the affair

There were only a few occasions where it was not a complete mess whenever Thomas Jefferson was involved. No, actually there weren't. None at all. So, you can imagine the suspicion running through John's mind when out of nowhere, the bastard in magenta tucked a random book into his bag, smirked, then left like he was never there.

Strange man...

Naturally, he took the book out, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, reading the title.

The Reynolds Pamphlet

Curious, he opened it, and after reading a few lines, his eyes widened, and he quickly snapped it shut, stuffing the book back in his bag, and rushing home, avoiding looking at the pitying looks people gave him when walking down the street.

As soon as he wrenched the door open, it was shut again, and he sank down to the floor, tears beginning to race down from his eyes.

One visit to Liza, and this is what he does?

One visit, only two months, and THIS is what he does?!?

He felt his sadness give way to rage. His fists clenched and his eyes burned. He threw his bag against the wall as he stormed into their room, and grabbed a pile of papers. Letters.

John grabbed the one on the top of the stack, his eyes catching on the neat handwriting. Alexander's handwriting.

Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my dear Laurens, that it might be in my power; through actions rather than words, to convince you I love you.

His eyes softened, tears spilling onto the floor, those small words on the paper, from years, and years ago, making him break. He couldn't feel angry. Everything just felt numb, and blurry, like he was watching this play out from a higher standpoint.

But he soon was pulled back to reality. He tore the page in half. He threw the halves into the fireplace, seeing the satisfying sparks of burning paper. Loved him. Sure.

The only sounds for a few moments were his labored breathing, the crackle of the fire, and the tearing of pages, into tiny little scraps.

Letter after letter, soon the entire pile had been torn up and fed to the fire, leaving John standing there, watching them burn.

They... They were all gone.

He didn't know if he wanted to smile at that fact, or sob. He had just destroyed some of his most prized possessions... At least they used to be. They used to be.

Either way, they were gone. He was burning the memories. It was hard to tell if that made him feel emptier or not. He didn't feel any satisfaction from it... And they were gone now. Forever.

He suddenly remembered that the most recent letter, during this, was still in the office. He stalked into the room, and carried it to the fire. He heard the front door open. He turned and saw him, looking slightly fearful.

"Alexander," he growled. John grabbed his bag, shoving the book to him. "Do you care to explain that?"

Alex knew what it was before he even looked at the cover. He didn't say anything. "John, I-" He sighed. "It- she- I didn't mean for it to get this out of hand. I don't love her."

"And you could say the same about me, couldn't you." His voice was cold as steel, contradicting the tears flowing down his cheeks that would make you think his voice should be shaking.

"No, John." Alexander reached out a hand to wipe his tears, only to have his hand slapped away.

"Don't touch me." John's eyes were painful to look at. There was too much hurt for one person to hold, just in his eyes.