A/N: this is lowkey just a coping fic cuz your author is going bald from stress kay enjoy
Alex paused in front of the mirror on his way out of the house.
He patted the top of his wig, ensuring that all the pins were secure. He adjusted it for probably the hundreth time that morning, trying to make it look as natural as possible, hoping by some miricle that shifting its position slightly would make it blend seamlessly into his scalp and look like his own powdered hair and not a wig he was using to cover the disastrous state of his own hair.
It wasn't enough. To Alex, it would never be enough. The wig would never look real, would never be able to pass as his own powdered hair. He would always notice the slight demarcation around the edges of his scalp, the way it didn't lie completely flat against his forehead. He just hoped that nobody else would.
Unable to stand the sight of his own reflection, Alex turned away from the mirror and walked out of his house.
His hair had been getting worse for months. At first he'd assumed that it was just temporary, that perhaps it had something to do with the the changing of the seasons or he was having a bad reaction to the powder he was using. He'd assumed that it would stop eventually. But it hadn't. Instead, it had only gotten worse. Every time he brushed his hair, more and more broken strands came off in the brush. It had scared him so much he'd stopped brushing his hair for a few days because he couldn't stand to watch his hair fall out anymore.
Alex had always considerd himself fortunate in terms of hair. His own hair had always been quite lovely, thick and glossy with subtle tones of russet and golden that turned firey in sunlight. Lovers had always enjoyed running their hands through it, and it was ample enough that most of the time he could simply wear is own powdered hair and not have to deal with the fuss and immense discomfort of a wig.
But as of late it hadn't been the case. His hair had become noticably thinner. He could feel the difference in the texture when he washed it or braided it, could see the sparseness on top when sunlight hit it from above.
He knew that this was his own fault. Too many sleepless nights, overloading himself with work until the stress drove him half mad, forgetting to eat simply because he was so busy and stressed he barely had time to breathe. It was a sickening trap: his hair was falling out because he was stressed, but the fact that his hair was falling out was making him more stressed.
He'd done his best to ensure that nobody would notice how bad his hair had gotten. The second the thinning had become noticable, he'd started wearing a wig to hide it. Alexander Hamilton detested wigs with all the passion with which someone could detest something, but the discomfort of wearing a wig was nothing compared to the humiliating of letting anyone see the disastrous state of his own hair. It was a delicate balance, for he also did not want anyone to notice that he was wearing a wig. Everyone who knew him knew that he detested wigs, so if he started wearing one on a regular basis they would suspect that something was wrong. So he'd done everything in his power to make his wig look as much like his own powdered hair as possible.
"Good morning, Alex!" A voice said, snapping Alex out of his thoughts.
"John!" Alex smiled, turning towards John Laurens, who was racing towards him with an urgency that Alex found half endearing and half terrifying.
"Good morning, dear boy." John said, making sure nobody was looking before pressing a kiss to both of Alex's cheeks.
"I've missed you, my darling." Alex took one of John's hands and pressed a kiss to it.
Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens were lovers in all but name. It was not socially acceptable for two men to be in a romantic relationship, though that did nothing to dampen the two men's feelings for another. They had shared a bed many times, and loved each other as fiercely as they had the day they'd first met.
