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Alexander was never prepared for the gore and death associated with war. He refused to deny his younger self’s dreams of victory, but they were just dreams. Badges coated in glory were not worth the physical and emotional exhaustion of watching allies tumble and never to re rise, ignorant of the battered bodies that had long passed but continued to haul themselves from battle to battle. He, the one who had lost too much, was not prepared for this.
In their tent lips brushed as John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton held a kiss. Nothing new between the two but Alexander had insisted on sharing the soft pecks of passion before heading off to battle. Today something in his stomach didn’t sit right.
The two lovers rode their mighty steeds into the heat of battle, remaining by each other’s side, hoping to hold their warmth for just a minute more. When they did finally split paths on Washington’s orders Alex’s thoughts couldn’t help but linger on his freckled secret as they grew further apart.
They kept count. They always did, how many shots scraped dirt, how many met flesh, how many’s eyes went a milky white. Both felt superior when their kills were held with a sizable gap and power was beloved in their lives.
That’s when Hamilton saw him. A red coat–something he normally loved to see, and slaughter– aiming his bayonet at John Laurens. If Alex had to point out the exact moment his heart fell he would have chuckled and replied “the same time John did”. Without further though he raced his steed to where John lay and shot the man who infected his sunlight.
Vaulting from his horse he fell to cradle his warmth. Blood spewed from Laurens’s stomach. He was still alive, Alexander told himself, but he won’t live to see the hour’s turn. Tears slipped from Alexander’s eyes as John leaned into his touch.
“Aren’t you an overachiever, huh,” Laurens spewed weakly, “Not even ten into this battle and you’ve already spilt blood.” Alex couldn’t smile or hold a laugh to his lover’s limp form. “I love you.”
“I know,” Alex managed, “ and I love you… Please don’t leave me, John.”
It was John’s turn for his eyes to turn to glass, “I’m sorry, Babygirl. I’m so sorry, I don’t think I can keep that promise.”
“I need you, John Laurens. I need you more than the moon needs the sun or a flame needs a spark or that one damn diamond that needed a hint of coal… I don’t know if I can live without you.”
“I’m sorry, Babygirl, but I need you to stay strong,” he winced as he grew paler. “Can you do that for me?” Alex nodded and John continued. “Win this war, Alexander. Grow this country. Make them write your name in those history books that they will one day write. And never ever accept defeat. Alexander, there’s a million things you haven’t done, and I will wait for you at those pearly white gates and we shall enter together. And you will tell me of your accomplishments. And those million thing they’ll have been done… Alex?”
“Yes, my light.”
“I’m scared.”
“I know.”
“Please don’t forget me.”
“My love, I will never in a thousand years forget the name of the man who stole my heart.”
By now John want panting for his next breath, trying to cling onto what little life he could. “Goodbye, Alexander Hamilton, I love you.”
“Goodnight, John Laurens, I pray that your sleep will be a peaceful one, I am forever yours, I love you.”
He pressed a sloppy kiss on to John’s lips.
His breath ceased. His body fell limp. His eyes were milk no kitten would ever drink. His lover was left alone to deal with the aftermath.
Lafayette and Hercules found them– him, it was just him, rubbing circles onto John’s lifeless body when all left in red were sprinkled in blood.
They picked up Alexander and brought him back into their– his, it was just his, tent and left him to mourn.
______________________________
Alexander woke up in a cold sweat, panting like… like John did. Wacking his arms around him he found his face, he looked down, there were sheets, not cots, he was in sweat pants not a bloody uniform. Flailing his arms around for his phone he squinted as he found the time, 2:16, it read.
He wanted to steady his mind but he had to know. He needed to find John breathing, laughing, alive. The time could go screw itself, his faucet eyes wouldn’t halt its pouring until he had proof.
Alex was hardly affected when his bare feet met chilling hardwood as he peered down the hallway. He raced to John’s door, frantically pounding his fist.
Within seconds John’s face replaced Alex’s view of the door. Tears flooded heavier.
“Hey, hey,” John’s fingers collected under Alex’s chin, lifting his teary eyes to meet John’s. “What’s wrong, Babygirl?”
Alex didn’t answer, he couldn’t without spilling his guts to the man he had long ago fallen in love with. “Do you wanna come in?” John gestured to his bed. When Alex nodded, John redirected his arm to follow behind Alex’s back.
John further wrapped his arms around the smaller man as they slid under the covers of his bed, instinctively, John pulled Alex closer, cradling his delicate form. “Alex, what happened?”
He didn’t respond. But he had to, he woke John up and made a fuss over what should have been just another bad dream. “I had a nightmare,” Alex whimpered.
“Surely the Great Alexander Hamilton wouldn’t be scared from his bed by a puny nightmare… unless something worthy of a broadway musical happened,” John’s face lit like the sun as a breathless laugh fell from Alex’s lips. “Alexander… what happened?”
Alex lifted his head, meeting his gaze before nuzzling his skull back under John’s chin, “You died…”
John was silent. “How did I die?”
“I couldn’t save you.”
“How so?”
“We were in the middle of the Revolutionary war. You know how the textbooks said Anthony Ramos died… I was Lin, I held you as you passed.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes! And Washington was Christopher Jackson! And Laf and Herc were Daveed and Oak! Do you not believe me?”
John’s warmth radiated as he laughed, “Of course I believe you!”
John held him a little tighter as he spoke. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” John asked.
“For being here. For waking you up. For being an overly emotional mess. For- for being–” the words clung to his throat “– for being completely and utterly in love with you.”
John’s grip on him loosened and felt his jaw go slack.
“I’m so sorry,” Alex shifted, prepared to leave. “I better go.”
“Stay,” John said grasping his wrist. “I don’t want you to leave.”
Alex refolded his body to fit John’s build, “Why?”
“Because I’m completely and utterly in love with you too.”
Together they shared a gentle silence staring into the other’s eyes, together they blushed.
“Can I kiss you?”
“I would love if you kissed me, John Laurens.”
And together they kissed.