Living a Lie [Jamilton]

Chapter 7

A/N: This chapter is kind of short sorry.

Thomas started crying the second Alexander left.

He ran to his desk and frantically started writing, his tears staining the paper.

My dearest Lafayette,

I am so sorry.

I cannot do this.

My heart is breaking.

I cannot bare to be around Alexander, to love him so much yet know that he can never love me back.

To hear him tell me how much he loves me and know that it's all fake, that he would feel nothing for me if he knew who I really was, that the only reason he feels anything for me at all is because he believes me to be someone else.

I have no idea what to do.

I do not know how to proceed.

I cannot keep this facade up for much longer.

Yet I cannot bring myself to end it, to let Alexander Hamilton walk out of my life like that and never be able to see him again, never be able to hear his adorable laugh or see his beautiful brown eyes or touch his silky hair.

I do not know what to do, Lafayette.

I know you cannot help me, I know you cannot answer these questions I so desperately need answers to, but I have no one to turn to.

Nobody can know that you're dead.   

Nobody can know what I struggle with.

I must keep it all to myself.

I have nobody to turn to. I only have myself.

That is the way it was for so long. I never had any friends. Everybody thought I was strange and wanted nothing to do with me. You were the first friend I ever made. When I met you I forgot what it was like to be lonely. I finally learned what it was like to have someone to turn to.

Now it is back to the way it was before. Alone, with no one but myself.

I miss you so much, Lafayette. If you were here you would know exactly what to do and say. You were gifted where I am not.

With much love and many regrets,
Thomas Jefferson

Thomas put his pen down and sighed.

He rested his head on the desk and tried to imagine a way out, tried to imagine what Lafayette would do at a time like this.

He stumbled upon a memory of when he and Lafayette spent the day beside a lake in the French countryside. They'd been young teens, approximately thirteen or fourteen.  Once Thomas had convinced Lafayette that getting into the water would not mess up his beautiful hair, they had had a lovely time.

Once they had swam to their hearts' content, they had climbed out of the lake and lie side by side in the grass.

Thomas remembered the feeling of the sun against his skin. He has remembered Lafayette freaking out because he'd forgotten to put sunscreen on.

"Laffy, can I ask you something?" Thomas had asked, rolling over onto his side so he could see his friend's face.

"Sure, mon ami. As long as it is not about mathematics. That stuff-how you say- kicks my ass."

Thomas laughed. He loved it when Lafayette used the American slang he'd taught him.

"Would you ever be friends with someone gay?"

Thomas remembered the fear he'd felt, the  nervous sweat leaking down his back and jumping jacks his heart had done in his chest.

"I believe I would." Lafayette had replied after several seconds of agonizing silence. "I would be friends with anyone as long as they are not an asshole. Why?"

"Laffy, I need to tell you something." Thomas had sighed. "I-I'm gay."

Lafayette had blinked. "Mon ami, I hope you do not expect me to be surprised, because you being gay is as obvious as the sky being blue or the Earth being round."

Thomas had laughed. All the fear and anxiety had melted away.

"Am I really that obvious?"

Lafayette had laughed. "Please. You practically start drooling whenever you see a moderately attractive male."

"I do not!"

"Need I bring up the gay bar story?"

"For the last time I walked in by accident I was looking for a bathroom."

"Sure, mon ami. Sure."

"Laaaaf..."

"Gosh, you are adorable."

"Laffy, I don't know what to do."

"What do you mean?"

"Being gay. I don't know what to do." Thomas' voice had broke as he started to cry. Lafayette had reached across the space between them and took Thomas' hand.

"When in doubt, mon ami, follow your heart."

"When in doubt, mon ami, follow your heart."

He thought of his heart.

His heart that was currently in a million pieces.

One of those pieces had died with Lafayette. It was lost forever and would never be seen again.

One of those pieces belonged to James Madison. The breakup had done nothing to change that fact. No matter what happened, James Madison would always hold a piece of his heart.

One of those pieces belonged to Alexander Hamilton, to his beautiful brown eyes and ink-stained sweaters and sweet kisses and adorable laugh.

But, my dearest Lafayette, if my heart is in a million pieces, which one do I follow?