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I still remember, 3rd of December…
Alexander was, undeniably, really happy. He laughed and smiled and joked all night, revelling in the spotlight and the attention from all his friends. Sometimes, when it was just the two of them, all alone, it was easy to forget how popular Alexander really was. Everyone was instinctually drawn to him, like moths to a flame. John couldn’t blame them. He was too. The difference, of course, being that John was more interested in Alexander’s mouth for reasons other than his compelling words.
He should have known that Alexander would eventually move on to a pretty, respectable, wealthy young woman who could actually provide him with status and stability. He was so successful in every other part of life; the perfect writer, soldier, and politician. It only made sense for him to have the perfect wife and the perfect wedding and the perfect little family. John couldn’t fit into that life. He was an extra puzzle piece that would never make a full picture.
He sighed, taking a sip of his whiskey to hide his scowl as Alexander laughed loudly at something Meade was saying. He knew he was selfish. All these people, filling the private room at the back of the bar, were there to celebrate Alexander. And there he was, grumbling because he was jealous. John wanted to be happy for him so bad.
A draft of wind blew through the open window and John shivered. He really should’ve worn a thicker coat. Granted, he’d anticipated being far more drunk by this point of the night, having other means to warm up his body. Now, though, his stomach was starting to churn (he would excuse it as just a bug, because feeling sick over someone he liked getting married would be pathetic, even if it were a woman). Even just his second drink, which he was finally reaching the bottom of, was starting to look unappealing.
“John! Are you quite alright, man?” Meade called, looking over at him with a raised eyebrow.
John waved him off. “Of course I’m alright. I was only listening to your reprimanding of our tomcat here.” he raised his glass in Alexander’s direction. “I must agree that I find it hard to picture him tied down.”
For a fraction of a second, John thought that he could see the regret on Alexander’s face, before it was engulfed by his usual smile. “Are you sure, dear Laurens, you very near flinched at the wind!”
“I do hope you’re not feeling ill, are you?” Meade added.
“I promise, I’m quite fine.” At that moment, another gust of wind blew in, and John was unable to stop his entire body from shivering.
“I fear our dear Laurens may be lying to us,” Alexander said with a smile. “Here, take my coat.” He began to take it off.
“Goodness, no, Alexander, there is no need,” he argued.
“Don’t be silly, man, I am used to such cold.” He passed his coat over, and John couldn’t bring himself to say no when the chance to be wrapped in Alexander’s scent again was right in front of him. He grabbed it and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“Thank you,” he said.
“‘Tis no trouble, Laurens.” Alexander looked at him sweetly. Meade had moved onto some other conversation with some other aide, and it was just the two of them, for a moment. John longed for the old days, when they would hold onto each other and never mention wives or marriage, for such a thing seemed so far in the future that it didn’t bear mentioning. He was pulled ungraciously out of the moment when Alexander was pulled into a conversation with Laffayette, who seemed endlessly interested in speculation about what Eliza’s wedding dress was going to look like. John sighed and ordered another whiskey, deciding that the nausea was inevitable no matter how many drinks he had.
And boy, was he going to need a lot of drinks to survive tonight.
——
Me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you…
That night was the last that they would spend together at camp before everyone headed to Albany to celebrate Alexander’s wedding. The house they were in had little space, so most of the aides were all in one large room, cots squeezed into any corner they could find.
“Here’s your coat, Alexander,” John said, taking it off and passing it back over. The warmth from the fire would be able to keep him warm through the night.
“Keep it.”
“Excuse me?”
“Keep the coat, Laurens.”
“I—” John had no idea what to say. “I am sure I must have misheard you. Hamilton, you cannot just give me your coat.”
“Whyever not?”
“Because— because—” He didn’t want to say because you’re poor and I’m worried that this is the only one you own, because that felt rude.
“If you’re worried about me, do not fret. I am to be wed to a Schuyler, remember? I have plenty of coats. Plus, that one looks better on you anyway.”
He looked down at the coat, a muted dark green color. “Really? I thought you loved green.”
“I do.” Alexander said simply, smiling at John.
He decided not to think too deeply into what that meant.
“Maybe you should wear it to the wedding. It would look nice.”
Ah, great, another reminder of John's looming dread. It was only eleven more days until Alexander would be married. He hoped that his smell stuck to the coat until then.
——
I watch your eyes as she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes…
Elizabeth Schuyler, or, Elizabeth Hamilton now, John supposed, was undeniably beautiful. John hadn’t ever been interested in women, but that didn’t mean he had no ability to see when one looked gorgeous. Her dress was white with a pink and blue floral pattern, her hair drawn up into a beautiful updo. John watched her walk down the aisle, accompanied by her father, and understood, at least a little, why Alexander would choose her.
If anyone asked, he would tell them that he was wiping away happy tears when he closed his eyes before the kiss. They were such a perfect pair. The sun should be jealous of their brightness. John hated it. The sun always blinded him.
It was a gorgeous ceremony, followed by a gorgeous reception, which only made everything worse. John did wear the coat, in the end, though unfortunately for him it had to be washed in between and no longer smelled of Alexander. Maybe that was for the best, though, as it wouldn’t turn any heads.
He did really feel like an awful friend. All the other aides gave Alexander their best wishes, congratulating him on finally settling down. John considered doing the same, though eventually determined that the whole ordeal would be far too awkward for the both of them. They both knew that what they had was far from just a friendship between colleagues. Whether Alexander carried guilt about turning away, John would never know. He hoped, maybe selfishly, that he did.
He pondered all of this as he danced with Kitty Livingston. They often danced together at balls and the like. She knew, of course, that he was married, and that it was purely a friendship.
The sudden thought of his own marriage made him feel even guiltier. Why should he have all these feelings about Hamilton getting married, when he had his own wife and daughter, waiting for him across the sea? Perhaps since he was so far away from them, so disconnected, he felt as if it was less significant. After all, he had… been with Alexander while married, but now that the other man had said his vows, it was all over.
“Are you feeling well, Laurens?” Kitty asked.
“I am fine,” He replied, shaking himself out of his mind and forcing himself to focus on the present moment. “Just… reminiscing a bit.”
“Ah, of course.” She smiled. “I know that you and Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton are very close. It must be strange to see a tomcat such as him be wed.”
“Well, I’m sure our dear Hamilton will adjust.” He looked over to the other side of the dancefloor, where the newlyweds were twirling around together, fully entranced in each other’s eyes. “He loves her a lot.”
He wished that it was a lie, but he knew that it was true, because he knew what Alexander Hamilton looked like when he loved someone.
“He does.”
——
But you like her better,
I wish I were Heather…
Hours later, and John was, to put it lightly, sloshed. For a while, he had managed, dancing with a few different girls that he was familiar with and then having a conversation with Tilghman and The General. But after a while, it was impossible to ignore his best friend. Alexander made sure to formally introduce John to his new wife, who was incredibly sweet to him. It made his stomach sink even more. She really was perfect for him, and he clearly did love her very much. Perfectly matched. And what’s more, Eliza’s status from her rich, high-profile family earned Alexander both the money and respect he had always so desperately wanted. That he so desperately needed to pursue his career in politics. Alexander deserved that. He deserved to have a rich family and a splendid career and to shape their new nation, as he was so clearly born to do.
Finally, John resigned himself. Of course, it had already been inevitable, they’d been engaged for months. But he had to give up his fantasies. This was what Alexander was made for, and John, who had all the love in the world for him, wanted this for him. Even if that meant losing the love of his life.
As mature and sensible as this revelation had been, John was still devastated. Luckily, the venue had provided a plethora of alcohol for the guests, and he decided to just indulge himself. Plenty of people got drunk at weddings. No-one would raise an eyebrow, and he’d be free to wallow in his own misery.
So that’s how he ended up on the balcony at eleven o’clock at night, staring up at the stars as the muted noises of the party continued on inside without him. The brick floor was cold, even through his pants, but it grounded him. He wrapped the coat tighter around his frame, and thought back to the times that he and Alexander would sneak out to the lake together at night, bathing together. It was the only time of privacy they could afford in the middle of a war.
Usually, his mind would not wander to strange things, but given the late hour, and the alcohol running through his system, it did. He imagined how things might be different if he were born a woman. He did not desire that life, of course, except maybe for the part where he would have the chance to be with Alexander. He was from a rich and affluent family, after all. They would be a natural pair. He could lift Hamilton up and watch him blossom without having to hide. They could have a wedding, just like this one, and everyone would watch them kiss and cheer and throw petals on them.
Elizabeth Schuyler was a lucky girl. John wished he were her.
But even then, he reminded himself, Hamilton is very much in love. If they were both women, who would he have chosen? Perhaps he loves her more than he did John, anyway. That was probably the more likely possibility. Eliza was beautiful, witty, and perfect in all of the ways that John wasn’t.
The door creaked open, and John almost fell off the balcony in surprise.
“Oh goodness! Sorry, I did not mean to disturb you, I shall go—”
“Wait!” John didn’t know why he cried out for the random woman to stay, but for some reason, the idea of company really did sound nice. “It’s alright, you may join me.”
The door creaked open again, and the woman stepped out onto the balcony, closing the door behind her. She looked down at John. “Lieutenant Colonel John Laurens?” She asked. “What are you doing out here?”
It took him a couple of seconds, in the low moonlight, to make out who she was. “I could ask the same of you, Angelica Schuyler.”
She chuckled sadly, leaning down to sit next to him. “Goodness, this gown is not made for sitting in,” she muttered.
They sat in silence for a few minutes, just looking at the stars together. Angelica had a drink in her hand that she took occasional sips from. It was oddly peaceful, John thought. Having someone there actually helped him to slow his racing thoughts, even if he didn’t know her very well.
The peace was broken not long after.
“Are you in love with my sister?”
John was grateful for the low light, because without it she may have seen the absolutely astonished face he was making. “Why— Whyever would you think that?”
“Oh, do not fret, I am not offended, Mr Laurens. And I do apologise if I am wrong in my judgement. It just seems that you are… rather bothered by the wedding.”
John didn’t know how to answer her. On the one hand, he was absolutely not in love with Elizabeth Schuyler, no matter how beautiful she may be. But on the other hand, there was no way that he would be able to tell the truth about why he was out here, drunk out of his mind. Even in his inebriated state he was able to control that. Maybe this was the closest he could get to admitting the truth.
He took so long to answer, that Angelica seemed to take his silence as a yes, and he didn’t argue. She sighed softly, fidgeting with her hands in her lap.
“Do not worry, then. You are not alone in your pain.”
He looked over at her with curiosity. “What do you mean?”
“I am also… rather bothered by the wedding, myself.”
John didn’t have to ask any other questions to extrapolate her meaning. He had never noticed that she felt something for Alexander, though he supposed that was by design. Maybe he should have felt more jealous at this revelation. Instead, though, he felt a bit of relief. He wasn’t the only one in that room who wasn’t completely elated. Someone else knew how it felt.
“Life will move on,” Angelica sighed. “It doesn’t feel like it, but it will.”
John wiped his eye with his hand and Angelica wordlessly passed him her handkerchief.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
“My pleasure.”
They spent the rest of their time in silence, looking up at the night sky as John wiped his tears with her handkerchief. He’d never shared more than a few words with Angelica before that night, but he suddenly felt as if they shared everything.
In particular: the desperate desire to be Elizabeth Schuyler.