Counterpoint

Chapter 5

Jefferson

   Morning comes far too swiftly than I like. The night seems to have passed like a heartbeat since I have closed my eyes. I groggily rise out of my bed, the warm blankets slipping off of my skin as I rise to my feet. Persistent raindrops from last night's storm cling to the cool glass of the window, glittering in the newborn rays of the morning sun as it continues to rise over the city. My room has a chill to it as I walk over to my drawers and closet, collecting the garments that I will wear today before sliding out of the old clothes and into the new.

   The house is just as silent as usual as I make the way to the stairs. I take the first step down the stairs and then pause as a nagging thought comes to mind, persisting that I halt and take one more look around. I glance to my left and see that a door that is usually left open is closed. That's right, for the first time in quite a while I wasn't the only one who had been in this house for the night. Hamilton is here too. Disappointingly he was the first individual that I had allowed to stay here after such an abstinence of visitors.

   I can't help but grumble irritably as I take a step back onto the second floor and head over to the closed door. If the door is closed then it should be safe to assume that my little stray is still asleep. So much for always being work oriented and eager to get back to his obsessive rate of productivity. I knock and there is no response. I knock once more, only silence reaches my ears. My eye twitches in annoyance as the thought of him ignoring me and my attempts to rouse him crosses my mind. He should be grateful that I even brought him here! I throw the door open with a string of insults ready to be spewed on my tongue but they are harshly halted by the stunning silence and emptiness of the room.

   "I...don't understand him." I murmur as I look around the room that almost looks cleaner than it had been when I had shown him into it. In saying that, I would like to point out that the room had been immaculate originally and now almost seems to be glowing with cleanliness. He lived in this room for less than twelve hours and took it upon himself to make it look like he had never been here to begin with. How did he wake up before me? More importantly how did he leave here without me hearing him? I turn out of the bedroom and briskly walk down the stairs and surprisingly find Hamilton sitting at my breakfast table with two bags of McDonalds resting on the counter along with a tray of two coffees, which is curious considering he is already drinking one.

   He glances over at me slowly as he takes a slow drag from his coffee, his eyes drifting shut slightly as he drinks the bitter liquid. I can't help but look at him in confusion as he sits at my breakfast table in a way that makes it look like he belongs there. Morning sunlight rushing in from the window that is beside him, illuminating his profile and making his hair look an even darker shade of brown than usual. 

   "Morning." He muses.

   "Good morning." I reply quietly. I take slow steps into the kitchen and open the bags from McDonalds. They are filled with hash browns and breakfast sandwiches. I look back over at him curiously. "What is this?"

   "Consider it to be my thank you." He replies quietly before taking another drink from his coffee.  "Breakfast is on me." 

   "Did you walk to McDonalds?" I ask skeptically.

   "I did." 

   "The nearest McDonalds is about twenty minutes away by walking." 

   "I'm a brisk walker." He replies dully. His eyes are distant and from the way that the sun is shining on his skin it looks like he has stark shadows underneath his eyes. I take a silent breath before reaching into the bag and grabbing one of the ten packets of hash browns that are crammed into this one bag. From the look of the contents of these bags it would appear that I am not the only one who has a soft spot for McDonalds hash browns. 

   "Why are there three coffees?" I ask before taking a bite of the hash browns.

   "Two are mine and one is yours." He replies tiredly. He is drinking two coffees in a single morning? I open one of the lids of the coffee and see that it is straight black coffee. Is he truly that desperate for caffeine that he ordered two straight black coffees? "They are all black, so if you don't like that creamer and sugar is in the bottom of the second bag." 

   "Thank you," I hum. "So..."

   "So, what?"

   "Why the two coffees?"

   "Sleep didn't come easily to me." He replies looking out the window, his fingers remaining curled around his coffee cup. I merely nod in response, failing to find anything else to say to the man that had just slept in my house and provided me with breakfast. Did he sleep at all last night? He had somehow found the time to clean the room and go and get breakfast for us from a McDonalds that takes me almost an hour to get to and from by walking yet he somehow beat me to the kitchen. It's curious. What's even more curious is just how concentrated I am on the thought of if Hamilton slept or not. I must be just as exhausted.

   "Will you be ready to leave soon?"

   "I have been ready to leave for the past two hours." he murmurs in response. I glance at the clock, it is only 7:30 in the morning. He has been ready to leave since 5:30 in the morning? What kind of demon is he?

   "Alright then." I mumble as I grab the coffee and the food as I start heading to the door. Hamilton rises from his seat and follows me out the door to the car. He holds the coffee and the food as I turn on the car. I place a hand on the back of his seat as I back out of the garage. He doesn't even look in my direction as we slowly roll out of the garage and onto the driveway. I look at him briefly before retuning my eyes to driving. He looks like he is struggling to keep his eyes open from the way that he is blankly staring straight ahead of him.

   Mind your own business Thomas. I reprimand myself in my thoughts. Alexander Hamilton is a grown ass man if he thinks he can handle the exhaustion and work through it then he can do it. He knows his limitations far better than I ever would, so it is in my best interest to keep my mouth shut and try to prevent from arguing with Hamilton on this strangely peaceful morning. He is even too exhausted to pick a fight with me. This may be the greatest or the strangest thing that I have ever witnessed in my entire relationship with Hamilton. 

   Shut up and focus on driving Jefferson! My mind is screaming at me.

   Fine! 

   My fingers drum against the steering wheel as I pull out onto the major road and pick up the speed. I just have to get us both to work and get through the day and then all this weirdness will just go away. Just do what you do everyday Jefferson and everything will return to normal. Painfully normal. Normal is good. Normal is desired. I silence my thoughts as I drive the remainder of the way to work. There is no need to think as we pull into the parking lot and quickly part ways. Alexander leaving me behind, his second coffee in hand, with all of the food that I am convinced that he hasn't touched. 

   I grab another hash brown before walking into the building and turning off my brain from the personal and on to only the political. Just the way the world liked it to be.