Alexander
The sun rises before Thomas does. His breathing is slow and steady as he slumbers on, I grimace slightly at the sight of the damp mark left on my shirt from Thomas' drool. It had taken so long for him to finally fall asleep. Anxiety had been playing keep away with his peace of mind and had led to a rather restless night for the both of us, unlike me Thomas isn't accustomed to nights will only a few hours of sleep. Sunlight seeps through the shades and I keep my hand resting on his head at just an angle to keep his eyes in shadow.
It had been such a struggle for him to fall asleep originally, he deserves to sleep just a little bit longer. He may be meeting his daughter for the first time today. Thomas has a firm belief that first impressions are the end all be all, so having him well rested when he meets his daughter for the first time would probably be beneficial for the both of us. I can imagine once he does get up for the day that he will be bustling about full of anxiety and nerves as he showers and brushes his teeth and tries to choose the least obnoxious outfit from his wardrobe.
I wonder what little Martha will be like. She spent the first three years of her life separate from her only living parent, so the likelihood of her being exactly like Thomas or Martha is nonexistent. Then again, she is only three years old, all children seem to behave in a relatively similar manner at this point in their development. Thomas stirs ever so slightly in his sleep, his head shifting on my chest as his curls brush my chin. A quiet groan emanates from deep in his throat, his fingers clenching onto the fabric of my shirt as his eyes struggle to open.
"What time is it?" He grumbles.
"It's almost nine thirty."
"That late?" He jumps slightly and I place a hand on the back of his head, lowering his head back down slowly. "I need to get up."
"So you can rush around like a frantic lunatic?"
"I need to get ready Alexander. I have to get Martha today." He tries to rise and I pull him down again with a bit more force.
"Settle down." I grumble as I grip onto his curls. "There is no need to get up just yet. It's only nine thirty in the morning and the house is silent; I doubt that any of your siblings are even up yet."
"If they are smart they won't be here when I get out of this bed."
"Thomas, a lot of them didn't know."
"Don't play devil's advocate."
"I'm not." I snap without any real heat behind it. "I'm trying to be the voice of reason and common sense. You can't blame your entire family for the actions of a few members."
"I just want my family to be whole and the people standing in the way of that are my own family members. Do you have idea what that feels like?"
"No, I don't." I condescend as I release my hold on his hair. "But I know you and you don't do well with holding onto animosity or pain for long periods of time." He sighs deeply as he slowly rolls off of me and out of bed. I fight the urge to roll my eyes when his feet touch the floor and he instantly starts to head in the direction of the connect bathroom. Thomas pauses just a step from the door and glances over his shoulder at me.
"You know, sometimes I really hate that you think you know me so well." I sit up and regard him with a look of amusement. A thousand witty and scathing remarks were dancing on the tip of my tongue, but they were temporarily silenced by the parting of his lips. "But in moments like this it is probably for the best that I trust your understanding of me. I will take your suggestions under advisement." I scoff quietly at his words, even now he has to be so difficult. "Thank you for staying Alexander."
"Of course." I reply quietly, the words seeming to escape me like a strangled whisper. There was something in the way that he looked at me that made my skin flush and my throat constrict. I feel like a tongue tied thirteen year old boy again as he smiles at me briefly before disappearing through the door and shutting it behind him. My heart is pounding rather frantically in my chest and all I can manage to do is place a hand on my chest and feel the rapid collision of my heart against my ribs. "Damn it, Thomas." I mutter without any real bitterness. "Stop it with the damn butterflies."
My body sinks back down into the mattress as the sound of the shower fills the air. There is a small crack between the door and the wall, Thomas hadn't checked to see that the door had actually closed all the way before getting into the shower. My mouth runs dry as I contemplate going into the bathroom. I don't want to get into the shower with him, but just being in there to do anything else feels too intimate and marital. Just the thought of him showering as I brush my teeth at the sink feels far too much like a newlywed lifestyle and I find myself shying away rather intensely from such a fantasy.
I close my eyes and breathe in the heady scent of Thomas's body wash as the scent mingles and rises with the steam. There is no doubt that I am very much in love with Thomas; the fact is so indisputable that I doubt that there is anyone who would come across us and not be able to spot the truth of our feelings for one another merely by the brief glances we share. Everything feels so painfully obvious that certain steps are beginning to summon themselves into the arrangement of possibilities for our future. Marriage is one of the many possibilities that have crossed my mind. It is a tempting thought, but I am not certain that I would be a good match for Thomas in such a strenuous union as marriage.
My previous marriage with Eliza had been ruined all because I couldn't let go of a past, unrequited love for John Laurens. I didn't bat an eye as I followed through with the lie and allowed my entire world to fall into shards of broken glass around my feet. It had seemed so natural; once it had already begun there was no stopping the inevitable. Eliza had the strength to endure such an emotional onslaught, case and point, her life without me but still managing to build a family with me. I am not so certain that if a similar situation were to arise once more that Thomas would be able to approach it with such fortitude. My love for him incites a flicker of fear that I will somehow destroy him.
The water stops and with it my mind falls starkly silent. A blanket of pure white snow has fallen atop of my dark thoughts, burying them for the time being underneath a shroud of silence. My mouth runs dry as Thomas steps out of the bathroom with a white towel tied tightly around his hips. He pauses in his motion of towel drying his hair to study me curiously. His eyes sweep over my face before resting on my eyes and peering so deeply that I feel completely exposed, painfully self conscious I quickly rise off the bed and storm into the bathroom, closing the door entirely behind me.
"Why does everything have to be a battle with you?" That was his question from last night. I don't really know the answer to that question. Fighting off everything and everyone had always come so naturally to me, perhaps I was just bred to fight. What seems more likely though is that I have become addicted to the blurring sensation that comes with fighting the universe. I focus all of my attention and unresolved emotions on a single person or idea and everything else melts away; is it wrong to enjoy the clarity that comes with such a practice? This might have been the reason that marriage didn't work out for me originally, or why it scares me so much now. You can't keep fighting a way and expect to find paradise.
My reflection is distorted in the steam that clings to the glass of the mirror. I can't find anything recognizable about my reflection. I rest my palms on the slick counter and stare into the steam, seeing someone I don't recognize and wondering if this disconnect is permanent.
"You're freaking out." I jump at the sound of his voice, but make no move to turn around to meet his gaze. No words falls from my lips as I continue to stare into the steam covered mirror. "Wow, no response, you are really freaking out."
"Who am I Thomas?"
"I am afraid that I don't understand what you mean by that."
"Ignore it then, you have other things to be thinking about right now." I mumble, glancing down at my hands. My skin has become shiny with sweat and lingering steam. There is a moment of silence and for the briefest of moments I thought he had left, but I can still see the dark outlines of his reflection in the mirror.
"What is going on Alexander?"
"Nothing that needs to be discussed right now. Today isn't about me."
"Well, that's tough shit. We're going to talk about this now because you're right today isn't about you. Today is about my daughter and us, so whatever this is needs to get resolved sooner rather than later."
"Thomas," I glance over my shoulder at him and flush as I quickly return my gaze to my hands. "How hard is it to go put clothes on?"
"Seriously, now you're getting shy?"
"Go put pants on damn it!"
"Alexander Hamilton fucking talk to me!" He grips onto my shoulders tightly and shakes me. My teeth chatter as I grip onto the edge of the sink.
"I'm scared and I think I'm just meant to hurt people! Just look at everything I have done. I don't want to do any of those things to you, but it all feels inevitable."
"You really sell yourself short, you know that?" His fingers knead into my shoulders gently, carefully easing out the knots. I jump slightly when he rests his chin on my shoulder. "Everyone makes mistakes and do things they regret, but the point is that everyone learns from those moments and move forward."
"What if I am incapable of learning from those mistakes?" My lips feel numb as I struggle to produce any syllables. He sighs in my ear as he nestles his head in the side of my neck.
"Christ, you are giving these moments in your past way too much power."
"I don't think I know who I am anymore." I glance back up at the mirror still covered in steam. "I'm being ridiculous aren't I?"
"I would like to say no, but this is a bit out there for you." He reaches his hand past me and wipes away the steam, my reflection coming into view. "You are not the same person that you were back then. Those mistakes do not define you, how you move forward is what defines you." Soft lips press against my neck and my eyes flutter from the shocks racing through my bloodstream. "You don't have to know who you are because I know who you are. Your name is Alexander Hamilton, you are stubborn and opinionated, yet kind and understanding. You have such a strength that I can't help but admire and I love you for all that you are."
"Thomas," I try to speak but he silences me with a stunning kiss on my jaw.
"You won't hurt me or chase me away. We're both finished with running. Whatever happens we'll figure it out together, okay?"
"Okay." I grin as he squishes my face in his hand. "We should probably go get ready."
"What you don't think this is appropriate attire?" He teases.
"Not unless you want to traumatize your daughter when that towel accidentally falls." His expression darkens as he squeezes my face a little tighter. I laugh through the hold as he shakes my head from side to side.
"Don't be rude." He kisses me on the cheek. "You don't look so stunning either, but we can fix that." I roll my eyes as he releases my face and nudges me to the side. My heart falters as he grabs my hand and everything falls into place. I can see our entire future unfolding, he and I could raise a child together and be stronger than ever. We can make this work.
This is now and that was then. I'm ready to move forward with Thomas and see where he will take me.