Chapter Eleven: Volunteer

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"Solomon?" I pause from my writing, and look at Alexander. He doesn't meet my eye, nervously looking to the side. I sigh.

"What did you do?" He seems surprised that I caught on so quickly, but he doesn't look any less guilty.

"I may or may not have... Volunteered to join a rebel artillery unit." The last words came out rushed.

"An... Artillery."

"My apologies," he quickly said. "An artillery is... A part of the army that-" he breathes in nervously. "-specialises with guns. Muskets, more specifically."

"Excuse me, you did what?" I look at him as if he's lost his mind. "Alex, you're literally studying- you don't have time to- and this will put your life on the line!"

"I shall manage, I always do, and 'tis the ideal chance for me to be involved in the revolution- I could make a name for myself!"

"You don't need a gun to make a name for yourself- this shit is reckless as fuck! Why do you want to throw your life away?"

"That is not my intent at all! I wish to make a change, and this is a chance to do so!" He argued back.

"Christ, when I said that I support the Americans, that didn't mean that I wanted you to sign your life away into a bloodbath! I get that you want to fight for what's right-"

"And that's what I'll do. Why are you so infuriated by the prospect of me fighting? Congress and General Washington have stated that they have a need for more volunteers.

"I'm not in grave danger either - I would understand your concern if I was joining the Continental army!" He countered back, but my mind got stuck at the mention of Washington.

"Wait- Washington is the one leading this?" I thought that he was just a president, not some kind of army guy.

"Washington is the commander-in-chief, if that is what you're asking. What's with the sudden interest?" Alexander tries to shift the topic.

"I've heard of him a long time ago." I clench my fist, trying to calm down my temper - nothing good will come out if I continue to shout. "When did you volunteer?"

"A while ago. After hearing about the battle of Lexington, me and a school friend decided to join a volunteer unit, with help of veteran professors. I could not let a chance as such pass me." Yeah, he couldn't, I realise- he's Hamilton, he doesn't throw away his shot

Wait.

A long time has passed since I've met Alexander, and it's surprisingly hard to remember that he's a historical figure in America, not just some stubborn, unruly, sleep deprived child. I forget that his fate is already set in stone, and I should keep it that way. After all, shouldn't the whole universe be exploding anytime soon if I diverge him from whatever path he's taking?

I sigh wearily, feeling dizzy. I sit myself down on the floor, holding my head. How does the story go? Hamilton meets a man who refuses to talk, then he meets three other people- 'lover boy', as Dalia had put it; some French dude who can't speak properly, and a tailor.

"Hercules Mulligan," I breathed out, putting the pieces together. But then, where are all the other people? Why hasn't he met them yet? Were they fictional? Was all of this fictional? But Alex seems so real...

I'm not sure what's real anymore- I've been here for so long, and this is starting to feel like my reality. Going back doesn't seem like an option now. I'm not sure how to feel about that.

A painful twinge in my eye snaps me out of my trance. "Shit!" I wince, covering said eye with my hand. Hamilton kneels next to me, obviously worried over my prolonged silence and sudden shout.

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