Hamilton One-Shots

Grieving

Alexander sat at his desk, a pencil in his hand as he hurriedly wrote notes over the margins of his paper. He had to finish these notes, then he needed to transcribe them, then finish his essay for class. All of it wasn't due until next week, but he needed to focus his mind on something; so he buried himself in work.

There was a knock at the door, pulling his thoughts from his work for a moment. "Alexander?" he heard from behind the dorm door.

"The door's unlocked," he called. After a moment he heard the door open and close. His friend's footsteps traveled through the dorm until they stopped behind him, but he wasn't focused on that. He wrote furiously over the paper, not stopping to even glance at Lafayette.

"You do know you have a week to do that essay?"

"Better to get it done early than to procrastinate," he replied. He paused to take a sip from the mug on his desk, draining the last of the coffee inside before returning to his notes.

"Exactly how much coffee have you made in the past twenty-four hours?" Lafayette asked.

"Six."

"Cups?"

"Pots."

"Have you eaten anything?"

"I have too much work for that."

"Work that you are pushing on yourself, work that you do not need to do, nevermind at this pace. You are going to burn yourself out."

"I'm fine." There was some silence, and Alexander thought foolishly that Lafayette would leave.

"Alexander, look at me." Lafayette was right behind him, he thought he would have been able to feel his breath on his skin if he had been any closer. "Alexander."

"Lafayette, I'm fine."

In a vicious movement, Alexander's chair was turned around. His pencil jumped from his fingers in his surprise as he was now almost eye-to-eye with his friend. Lafayette didn't smile or give him any sympathy like everyone else had done. Everyone who knew what had happened had drowned him in sympathy and condolences that meant nothing; that's not what Lafayette had.

"You are not fine," he declared in a commanding voice that surprised Alexander. "You are overworking yourself much more than normally and you need to slow down."

Alexander grit his teeth and shook his head. "I can't," he said, his voice lacking conviction he usually had. He looked to his lap, anymore beside his friend. He spoke without energy. "I have to keep my mind away."

"Look at me, Alexander."

Alex complied after a second command and stared at Lafayette's stern gaze. His hand had hold of the back of Alex's chair, his opposite hand holding onto the seat of the chair, trapping Alexander in his seat.

"John is dead," he said sternly.

With only those three words, Alexander found the burn behind his eyes renewed as he fought back his tears. He tried to keep his breath calm, but miserably failed as he started to gasp for breath, his cheeks washed again with tears. Between silent sobs he managed to speak. "Did you come across campus, just to tell me something I already know?"

"I came here because you need to accept this."

"I have."

"No, you have not."

Alexander tried to find some kind of kindness or pity in Lafayette, something that he had seen a hundred times in so many other people as he had grown up, when they had heard about John. There was none of that in Lafayette that he could see. He did see a deep sorrow though, as if Lafayette was feeling this same pain that Alex had been carrying around in his chest.

"John is dead. Do not betray his memory by drowning yourself in your work; that is not a way out of this."

Alex thought he would have snapped at his friend, yell something at him, but he couldn't. He didn't have any energy left to raise his voice. "What do you suggest?"

"Grieve," he said simply. "Cry. Go visit John's grave. Then pick yourself back up."

Alexander's head dropped once more. How was he supposed to do this? He was he supposed to finish the project John and he had started just a few weeks ago?

"Would John be happy with you treating yourself like this."

The new tears that sprang from behind his eyes caused a new feeling to swirl within him. He cried and shook his head. "No," he choked out.

"What would John want you to do?" Lafayette continued.

"He wouldn't want me to work until exhaustion. He'd want me to get sleep, to eat, to finish our project." He could hardly see Lafayette nod his head. He looked up to Lafayette and wrapped his arms around his friend after a seconds hesitation. Alex felt his arms wrap around him tightly as he tried to calm his breathing enough to speak properly. "Who did you lose?"

Lafayette didn't reply for what seemed like several minutes. "A good friend of mine. His name was John André." Lafayette pulled back and gave Alexander a soft smile. "How about we go out for some dinner," he suggested.

"In memory of the Johns," Alex said, managing to crack a weary smile.

Lafayette joined his smile with a nod. "In memory of our Johns."