Cold in my Professions

By Action Rather Than Words

Hamilton sat, eyes scanning over the letters he had received from his blonde comrade; from Laurens. He knew the man had been highly successful in recent mission, and he knew he couldn't feel no more than proud of the man. 

Though, he longed for him, for his presence, for his touch. Why had they seemed to feel so far apart? So much distance between them it felt almost maddening. 

Laurens, despite the boundaries placed around Alexander's heart, had shattered through. He caught the man in such a frenzy that reality seems altered when they could not be together, when they weren't in arms reach.

Had it been foolish for the walls to have been weakened and to have fallen so fast? Was it foolish to keep pining for a man like Laurens? Was it foolish that Hamilton craved so much more than what he already had? 

Was it fair?

The answer to all of the above... is no. 

Hamilton needed to let someone into his life, someone he could trust, someone he could hold close with no regret or remorse. Laurens is a magnificent man, one who had been trusted with command, one who deserved it nonetheless. 

Something so unique and so beautiful is the relationship they shared. Something that can't be expressed through words, but a desperate soul would try. 

Hamilton would try. 

He was blessed with an ability of expression, writing breathing on the page as if it were written to life. A bestowed gift that not many have, especially those who have gone through much similar to the past of Alexander. 

Still, he wrote:

'Cold in my professions, warm in my friendships, I wish, my Dear Laurens, it might be in my power, by action rather than words, to convince you I love you.' 

So innocent, yet so powerful. Something that would ponder in the average mind. Had it been a remark of friendship? Or an urge of romanticism simply disguised behind the few words?

Hamilton didn't ponder much, he still only wrote:

'I shall only tell you that 'till you bade us Adieu, I hardly knew the value you had taught my heart to set upon you. Indeed, my friend, it was not well done.' 

Matter-of-fact, Mr. Laurens had done it almost too well. The values of traditional love had yet to teach Hamilton any lesson, though Laurens had slipped through and established something much more eloquent, divine. 

Something that would lay a hand on Hamilton, speak through him, show him it was not worth hiding in the past; instead he should jump out, take life by the reigns. Love life and love those around. Let some in, leaving the walls strong against those who must be kept out.

Hamilton pushed the thought aside; yet he continued to write:

'You know the opinion I entertain of mankind, and how much I desire to preserve myself free from particular attachments, and to keep my happiness independent on the caprice of others.'

It's not all that simple, really. 

The opinion of mankind is something the differs from person to person. Some prefer having many close, some prefer very few.

Keeping oneself free from attachments though? 

No matter how high the desire is, you'll have one or two who will bombard such areas, and simply slide by with no question. And the singularity of personal happiness can't entirely be regulated by the outside, no. It did not matter how they felt, for Hamilton could act upon himself, is that not true?