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schrijverr · 3 years

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'Till Death Do Us Part

Part 3 out of 13

When Alex has to bring Philip to work, he and Thomas discover that they both have something in common: they lost their love. They form an unexpected bond and connection about this that grows into something more.

A medium burn with parental feelings about Philip and flowers.

On AO3.

Ships: Jamilton

Warnings: grief and mentions of unhealthy coping, terminal illness and death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 3: Virginian Spiderwort Means ‘Momentary Happiness’

“Eat lunch,” a sandwich along with a muffin and coffee was dropped on Alex’s desk, who jumped slightly in his seat and looked up.

“What?” he asked dumbly.

Thomas rolled his eyes: “You’ve been at it since six, I don’t even know why you were in that early that’s ridiculous, who comes in that early on a Thursday? And I haven’t seen you leave once. You need to eat, so eat, dumbass.”

“How do you know I started at six?”Alex asked.

“I didn’t, you send me an email around then, so I made a guess and you just confirmed it,” Thomas shrugged, ignoring Alex’s squawk, “Now eat.”

Alex picked up the lunch and started eating, while Thomas dropped into the chair opposite of him and watched him, sipping his own coffee.

“You’re just gonna sit there and watch me the entire time? Where is your lunch?”

“Already ate it and yes,” Thomas answered, “I know how this goes, you’ll come up with a good sentence and stop eating to write it down and then it’s a few hours later.”

Alex looked guilty and chastised, so he closed his laptop, which he had been staring at, and focused on Thomas: “So, how have you been?”

“That’s so awkward, I feel bad for us both,” Thomas cringed.

“Well, I’m sorry that I am not a great conversationalist,” Alex threw up his hands in defeat.

“According to Angie you are,” Thomas immediately regretted it, he didn’t want Alex to know he and Angelica talked about him.

“Yeah, but most of the time people I’m talking to aren’t you.” Fuck, was that too revealing? Did Thomas know he was struggling, because of stupid feelings?

“I’m sorry my face upsets you,” Thomas rolled his eyes, misinterpretingthe comment“Anyway, how did you get in so at six, I’m pretty sure schools don’t start that early. Where did you put Philip?”

“Oh, Pip is with Eliza and Maria for the week,” he said, “Eliza is so busy after the opening of the orphanage and they thought having a kid comfortable with them there would help the others get out of their shell and Pip had missed his Aunties. He’s staying till Wednesday.”

“And you decided that working abnormal amounts was smart when you got a bit of a break from your usual responsibilities?” Thomas judged, not so silently.

Alex grinned sheepishly and shrugged: “It’s what I do best, but I’m not being a complete dumbass, I leave a a somewhat normal time, I swear.”

“Hmmh.”

“I’m serious, I promised Angie I’d leave each day before six and she checks, it’s terrifying,” Alex shuddered and Thomas laughed: “Hear, hear.”

After that Alex quickly ate his lunch while they talked about the latest meeting, which lead to Alex complaining about Lee and Adams and how they could go fuck themselves.

When his lunch had completely disappeared, Thomas got up to leave. Before he could, however, Alex called out: “Hey, Thomas?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks again. For, you know, checking up on me,” he said awkwardly, “If you, like, ever need help or something, call me, okay?”

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Thomas promised, not thinking the day he would take Alex up on it would come anytime soon.

He was wrong in that assessment, because that Monday he called Alex, hands shaking and eyes blurry.

“Thomas? What is it? I’m already at work.” Of course he was, it was only 6:15 in the morning, who wouldn’t be at work at that time.

“Can you-” a shuddery sigh that he hated, “Can you tell Wash- Washington that I’m not coming- coming in today?” he asked.

“God, Thomas, are you alright?” the worry was evident in Alex’s tone.

“Not really,” Thomas sounded small, “I didn’t want to bother you, but Jemmy is away and I normally can handle this stuff, but it was all unexpected and now I’m here on my fucking kitchen floor calling you. Fuck.”

“I’m coming to you.” Alex said.

“You don’t need to-”

“Yes, I do. Come on, I’m not leaving you like that. You’re getting a motherfucking patented Hamilton hug, live with it,” Alex told him, “I’ll be there as soon as I can, hang in there.”

“…Okay,” the line went dead.

Alex hurried to Washington’s office, for once grateful that the man liked to come in early on Monday’s to ‘kick off the week right’ or whatever.

“Come in.”

“Sir, I’m taking the day off,” Alex burst in, “Thomas is not coming in either, he just called me. I thought, I’d let you know.”

Washington looked surprised: “You and Thomas…?” he trailed off curiously.

“Nothing like that, sir,” sadly enough, he added mentally, “He helped me out in a rough spot and I’m returning the favor. We found we had something in common.”

“Well, then go. An honest man always returns his favors, son,” Washington shooed him out of the office.

“Not your son and thank you, sir,” Alex said gratefully, before rushing off.

The drive to Thomas’s, admittedly very impressive, house took about thirty minutes and Alex was out the car and on the driveway immediately as he practically ran to the door and knocked: “Hey, hey, Thomas. It’s me, open up.”

After a moment the door swung open, revealing a Thomas Alex had never seen before.

He was in sweatpants and a loose tank top, his eyes were red-rimmed and his hair a mess. But above all, he looked small, hunched in on himself and lacking the confidence and arrogance that usually clung to him like a second skin.

Alex didn’t waste a second gathering him up into his arms. It wasn’t as comforting as it could have been because Thomas was a fucking giant and therefore could not fit into Alex’s arms completely, but that didn’t stop him from trying.

Thomas clung to him tightly, chocked off sobs being ripped out of his chest as he cried.

They just stood there in the door opening. Alex couldn't really move Thomas around like the other had done him, so he just had to wait.

“Sorry,” Thomas said after a while, his voice raw as he broke away.

“No sorry, not today, okay?” Alex told him, “Now, why don’t we set you down on the couch, yeah? It’s more comfy and definitely better than the porch.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Thomas agreed and numbly walked over to a living room, Alex trailing behind him.

Thomas collapsed on the couch, looking like a miserable heap and Alex had to pause and think of a plan of attack. He’d been a Lieutenant Colonel, he could do this. First, he needed to know the situation.

He sat down next to Thomas: “Hey, dude, can you tell me what happened? You said it was unexpected, what hit you out of nowhere?”

“Phone,” Thomas gestured vaguely to the kitchen, then didn’t elaborate beyond a, “Got an email.”

Okay, not much information, but a lead.

Alex went to the kitchen, there was an uneaten bowl of soggy cereal on the counter and a phone on the floor. He threw the cereal away and toasted some bread before he picked up the phone and read the start of the email:

My dearest, Thomas

I hope the future finds you well. Yes, the future! I found this site in which you can write emails that will be send 10 years later, so I do hope you’re still using the same email address or this will be awkward.

You may be wondering why today? It’s not a particular date for us, but I’m writing you this email because I know I won’t be there when you read it.

I had another attack today, but you know that of course, though maybe you’ve forgotten all the attacks through the years. We’ve been doing this for over three years already and I know I have not been writing the dates down.

But none of that now, this was supposed to be a pick-you-up, because I love you, dearest.

Alex stopped reading, this was not for his eyes. He quickly did the math. Thomas had said she’d died seven years ago, this was written ten years ago, so they still had three years together at this point.

God, he couldn't imagine what it was like to know your lover was dying and you could do nothing to stop it, just prepare for the inevitable.

The toast popped out the toaster and Alex locked the phone, before putting the toast on a plate and getting a glass of water. He walked back to the living room and handed Thomas the food as he gently said: “Come on, you can’t be sad on an empty stomach.”

That got a small amused huff from the Virginian, which Alex counted as a win.

He ate slowly and in silence and Alex just waited for him to gather himself. This was not a date on where you expected the missing to hit, there were no fun rituals – like on a birthday – to keep or something to celebrate or commemorate.

Just sadness.

Sudden sadness.

Alex looked at Thomas, who softly chewed on his toast. He didn’t think dragging Thomas outside today would be good for him. He needed time to process the message, to think of what his late wife wanted him to know for when she wasn’t there.

He now regretted not reading the rest of the message, just so that he could have a grip on Thomas’s thoughts, but he knew it had been the right thing to do.

When the plate was empty and the glass gone, Alex announced: “Okay, we’re having a sad couch day, but you need to tell me how to operate your TV and where you keep blankets, because you need a blanket nest to be sad in, alright.”

Thomas blinked at him owlishly for a moment, then shook his head with muted amusement and whispered: “TV is just normal and there is a guestroom, second door upstairs, I keep the blankets there.”

“Good,” Alex got up, “Are you alright for a moment?”

The other only nodded. Alex didn’t like how quiet Thomas was. He might not be the loudest person, but there would always be a presence hanging around him that made him feel like the loudest person in the room and that was now completely gone.

Alex rushed through the house, dropping of the plate and glass in the kitchen and putting on the kettle, before taking the stairs two steps at a time.

At times like these he was happy he had top surgery, because catching your breath with a binder on fucking sucked and running overall was a bad idea.

The guest room was less extravagant than he’d expected. It was decked out for comfort and stylish, but it wasn’t over the top. Actually the whole house was more stylish than expensive just for the sake of being expensive, something Alex hadn’t realized before.

Of course, the only befores there had been were company parties that Thomas had offered to host wherein he showed off on purpose.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen pictures during those parties either.

He grabbed the blankets and some pillows from the guest room and went back downstairs carefully, he didn’t want to trip or drop the blankets, but he also just wanted to be nosy.

The walls were still void of pictures.

It tugged at Alex’s heart, his own walls had been bare before he’d met John and all his other friends and they’d filled it up over the years of happy moments, but Thomas had nothing. Though he didn’t have time to dwell on it now, he had more important matters to attend to.

Thomas was still in the same position he’d left him in, staring at the still turned off TV. Alex dropped the blankets on the floor, only scooping one out of the pile to drape over Thomas’s shoulders, before finishing the tea.

How strange, he mused as he made the tea, me and Thomas are neither tea drinkers, except on days like these, except with each other.

He walked back to Thomas and handed him the mug, relieved when the other took it gratefully and let the steam warm his face as he burrowed into the blanket slightly.

Alex was still concerned about the hunched over position, which was rich coming from him, he knew, but getting lost in work and fucking up your posture was different than getting lost in grief and fucking up your posture.

So, he gently pushed Thomas back into the pillow of the couch and Thomas went easily. For all the man could fight him on every little thing at work, he wasn’t putting up a fight now and Alex was glad for that fact, even if it was slightly disturbing.

Taking the blankets, he draped them over Thomas and himself after he’d grabbed the remote and put on a nature documentary.

Thomas gave him a bemused look and Alex was never more relieved that Thomas was judging him, anything was better than that empty look in those usually lively eyes.

“It’s soothing,” he shrugged, “and low effort.”

“Fair,” Thomas nodded, his voice hoarse and raw, making Alex regret not putting honey into his tea, because it sounded like it hurt.

They sat in silence as they watched a frog hop over a leaf while the narrator told them slightly horrifying facts about the creature in a monotone voice.

After about an hour of animal facts and nature relations, Thomas spoke up: “She asked me if I had any kids yet.”

Alex looked up, but didn’t speak, just let Thomas figure it out.

“We wanted kids, I think maybe me more than her to be honest, though she loved being an aunt,” he went on, “But with her condition, well, pregnancy was just too risky and when we knew just how serious it was… Neither of us wanted to make an adopted child go through losing a parent again, so we never had kids.”

He took a shuddery breath: “And then she asked if I had them, she hoped I found that and I don’t know-”

Tears were falling again and without thinking Alex pulled Thomas into his side and Thomas didn’t protest as he burrowed his head closer. He whispered: “I always knew she wanted me to move on from her, live a good life, but hearing it again after having time to process her being gone. It’s- it’s different.”

Alex just ran a soothing hand over Thomas’s back as he thought about that. After a second he slowly said: “Knowing and accepting are different things and sometimes one is harder than the other.”

Thomas mulled over his words, then said: “Well, I hate accepting.”

He didn’t tell Thomas that moving on was good, that it was healthy. Both of them knew that well enough, they must have heard it a thousand times from concerned friends. It was always meant well, but sometimes you just didn’t want to hear it, not in moments like these.

“She told me she had something to say to me, but she didn’t know what just yet and that she had to think about it and tell me when she figured it out, because she still had time,” Thomas broke the silence again.

“That- that must be hard to read,” Alex told him.

The other nodded into his side, then said: “I think I know what it is though…”

“Do you want to share?” Alex asked.

“Yeah, she- I never realized this, but she started telling me how I would do great things and I better have a picture of her with me so that she could see it. I keep her in my wallet. I always thought she meant in the world. Big responsibility to have on my shoulders, but I tried. For her.”

Thomas fiddled with the blanket, he wasn’t looking at Alex, but he seemed content to curl up in the shorter man’s side.

“But I’m suddenly startingto think that’s not what she meant,” the words sounded small and Alex’s chest constricted painfully. He didn’t know how he would react if something he’d believed about John for years would be ripped out from under him one day without warning.

“What do you think she meant?” he asked, trying to keep Thomas talking, maybe if he said it out loud it would make more sense than when it swirled around in his head.

“I- I think she meant that I would- ugh- it’s- you had to-”

“Take your time.”

“She was always telling me about the great things in life, but she loved The Lord of the Rings, those books and movieskept her company throughout all the hospital visits. Her favorite quote was: ‘Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check, but that’s not what I found. I found it is the small everyday deeds of ordinary folks that keep the darkness at bay’,” he explained.

There was a moment of silence in which Thomas hesitated.

“It might be stupid, but I think she subconsciously absorbed that. That for her the great things were the small things,” Thomas said, “I once took her on a simple picnic and she said it was the greatest day of her life.”

Alex nodded along, he could already see where this was going, but he let Thomas set the pace of the conversation.

“I think she meant that I would get to do all the little things that made life great, have all the milestones we never got to have, but she phrased it in her own Martha-esque way,” there was a smile in his voice as he said that.

“Did she always have her own way of saying things?” Alex asked, hoping to keep whatever was bringing that smile to Thomas’s face going.

“Yeah,” a success, “she read a lot and she listened to a lot of music. She played guitar, wrote her own lyrics too. She was great with words, much better than me. I think she just consumed so many ways people expressed themselves through words that she had her own dialect. It was completely English, but just slightly different. It’s hard to explain.”

“I get it,” Alex assured him, “She sounds wonderful.”

“Oh, you would have liked her,” Thomas said, sounding strangely proud of that fact, “She took the time to make fun of my magenta suits in her email to me,” Alex snorted at that, “And you both take no shit and it’s easy to talk to you.”

Alex was shocked at that, no one told him he was easy to talk to. He had opinions and would let you know immediately, making you debate if you disagreed with him. Sure, he could be charming, but he made you think when you talked. It wasn’t easy.

He said nothing.

“Apparently she wrote it while I was next to her,” Thomas suddenly said.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was asleep in a chair. It was after one of her attacks, I think I remember this one, because it suddenly got way more serious after that, it was the heaviest we had in months,” his voice trailed off into a whisper, “We’d thought she was doing better.”

God, Alex couldn't imagine and that voice felt like a punch in the gut, his arm reflectively tightening around Thomas.

“Fuck, in the email she said she still has time,” Thomas breathed, “I know it was still a while after that before she- she died, but- God, it fucking hurts, Alex. We knew we didn’t have forever, but reaching thirty would have been fucking nice.”

There was that all familiar anger at what could have been if faith hadn’t decided to be so cruel. Alex knew it oh so well and just watched as Thomas clenched his fist, but didn’t get up. The anger drained out of him almost as quickly as it had come and his heaving breaths turned into sobs.

And if that wasn’t familiar as well.

Alex quickly brought up the other arm and pulled Thomas into a hug. They were cocooned in blankets and cuddling on the couch and it should be weird, but it just wasn’t.

It seemed Thomas was done talking now, because he stayed silent as the time dragged on. Once Alex realized he wasn’t going to talk, he started humming. Alex had never done well with quiet, though he didn’t mind that much, but he more thought it would nice for Thomas to have something other than his thoughts to focus on.

They sat there until their stomachs decided it really was time for lunch. Alex offered to make it so that Thomas could stay seated, but while Thomas gratefully accepted his offer to make lunch, he followed him into his kitchen and sat at the table.

His eyes fell on the phone that Alex had left on the counter when he had made them tea. His fingers twitched, but he didn’t move any further than that, conflicted look on his face. Alex let him figure it out on his own and just focused on making French toast.

In the end he picked up the phone and stared at it for a moment, before putting it down on the table, screen down.

He pushed the French toast around his plate for a while, Alex didn’t say a thing, just watched him patiently. If Thomas didn’t want to eat that would be bad, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world for just a day.

It might be bad for Alex to let Thomas indulge in bad habits, but he promised himself he would make sure it was a one of thing. He managed to make sure Philip ate and slept enough despite his own inability to take care of himself, he could do the same for Thomas.

Thomas ate a few bites, it was hard to pretend to care about food right now, but Alex had tried and he knew Martha would hate him neglecting himself.

God, Martha and her stupid- No, he couldn't think that, she meant so well, but it just hurt. She should have told him.

Though that might have been worse.

He looked at his phone again, uncertainty creeping in. Would Alex think it was a bad idea to read the email again? He just wanted to know if he hadn’t imagined it. He hadn’t really committed it to his memory like all her other writings through the tears, but he doubted he would be able to read it without crying all over again.

An idea suddenly came to mind. It was a stupid idea, but Alex had seen him suggest multiple stupid ideas so it wasn’t anything new.

“Can you read it to me?” the words were out before he even realized.

“What?”

“The email,” he clarified, “Can you read it to me?”

“You’d want that?” Alex seemed unsure and Thomas could feel the doubt creeping in.

He shook it off, he’d made up his mind: “Yes, I just want to know the whole thing, but I can’t really read it, because I’ll start crying, so you have to.”

Alex hesitated for a moment: “Alright, if you’re sure…”

“I am.” Thomas unlocked the phone and handed it to Alex, trying to ignore how his hand shook slightly.

After a deep breath, Alex started:

“My dearest, Thomas

You may be wondering why today? It’s not a particular date for us, but I’m writing you this email because I know I won’t be there when you read it.

But none of that now, this was supposed to be a pick-you-up, because I love you, dearest.

I know I tell you all the time, but maybe you haven’t heard this in a while by now, so I’m telling you again. I love you so incredibly much and you deserve all the love in the world and I hope you have someone to remind you.

It might seem strange for your wife to hope you have found love again, but I truly do hope you went on to live a happy life with people who love you and make you happy.

God, maybe you’ll have kids.

If you do, tell them that their Aunt Martha is watching over them from the stars. I promise to guide their little feet home to you safely and sing them lullabies when they’re having a nightmare, just a song between them and the moon.

I don’t want my passing to be the end for you. I have seen your soul and I know there is so much in store for you, I just can’t place my finger on what, but I still have time to figure it out and I’ll tell you when I do.

Now that I’m writing this, I honestly don’t know what to tell you. I thought I would have a hundred pages ready for you, but I don’t.

You know that moment when you have dinner with someone, but you’ve been with each other the whole day, so you can’t ask them how their day has been? It’s kind of like that.

I have seen you the entire day today and if I hadn’t I can tell you in person in a bit, but by the time you’re reading this, you’ve had time to make new memories without me and you can only tell them to my grave or my picture.

This is so morbid. Sorry, dearest.

I could take more time to think about what I want to write you, but I have this strong urge to finish it now. It’s almost like I’m running out of time. I am, in a way. But I still have tomorrow, the doctors said I’ll make it through the night with no problem and I’ll be discharged tomorrow. They say I have a good chance at a few more years and by God I hope they’re right.

It’s ironic how you’re asleep in an uncomfortable hospital chair by my side as I’m writing this.

You stress too much. It makes you look old. I know I’ve always joked about you being an old man, but you don’t have to make it a reality by aging from the stress.

I hope the creases by your eyes become more pronounced than the ones on your forehead. I hope so many things for you and I hate that I can never give you all the care you’ve given me.

You’re a good man, Thomas. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

I know you worry. You worry too much, just like the stress. Just promise me you won’t give in to all the doubt you create for yourself. Appearances aren’t everything, I know you care about style (the magenta suits are really taking it a bit too far, you are lucky I love you, you ridiculous man), but try comfort every once in a while as well, okay?

Now, I’m sounding like my mother, God this whole email has gotten out of hand…

Not that I had much of a plan to start with. I saw this and just had to write to you, to tell you how worthy you are and how much I wanted to have a forever with you.

It feels rude in a way to write you like this, you might have moved on, created a new life and I’m disrupting it from beyond, but I know you, Thomas, I know you so well that it hurts sometimes and I also know that you have a hard time letting go.

I hope you have that life we could never have.

I hope you’ve found a job that makes you happy, with a spouse that cares for you and a picket white fence that America tries to sell in every movie with a happy ending.

But I fear that you got stuck on us, on me.

And while I am flattered if that is the case (and not bitter if it isn’t, God I’m so happy for you if I’m wrong, dearest), then I want you to know it’s okay to move on, it’s okay to live.

God, this is one depressing sappy mess.

But we’re both kind of sappy depressing messes, aren’t we? You brought me flowers to the hospital today, you remembered my favorites are Virginian Spiderworts. Did you know they mean ‘momentary happiness’?

Momentary happiness, like I said: depressingly sappy.

I don’t know if I told you the meaning, but it is an interesting bouquet to bring to a hospital bed of someone terminally ill, you know? And I love you for it. Never change, Thomas, never change. Stay my sweet little dork, I beg you. If someone tries to change you, tell em no or I will come beat them up for you.

I will forever protect you, I promise.

I think this is good and if it isn’t you won’t really get to leave a review, so I’ll be safe either way. So, this is it, this is goodbye, for now at least. I still have the luxury of giving you a hug when you wake up and I’m gonna keep doing that till the end.

Stay strong, I love you,

Martha, your beloved wife”

In the end they were both crying and Alex was impressed with himself that he had managed to make it to the end. The email gave him more questions about Thomas, but he it wasn’t really the time to ask about his late wife’s protectiveness.

He cleared his throat after a moment and said: “Martha was amazing.”

That got him a surprised chuckle as Thomas’s breathing started to become more regular. He swallowed and agreed: “God, she was.”

“Tell me more about her,” Alex requested. He remembered how nice it had been to tell Thomas about John and he found himself curious about the woman that had enchanted Thomas.

“She was the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met, and I know Angelica,” Thomas started, Alex let out a small amused huff, “Martha- Martha was the kind of person you had to look at, you know? When she walked into a room, it got brighter.”

Thomas perked up considerably when talking about Martha. He was still slightly curled into himself on the kitchen chair, but he was at least making eye contact with Alex.

“I used to be overly anxious – still am, but I’m managing – and she was always there for me when I needed it. She was a spitfire, she talked when I couldn’t and stood up for me,” Thomas confessed, “I try to embody her when I need to make a presentation.”

Alex was taken aback by it: “I didn’t know you got anxious.”

“It’s better when arguing with you, I have to think too hard on how to counter you to think about stressing,” Thomas tossed out casually, immediately hoping that wasn’t too revealing, he’d already compared the man with Martha once today.

But Alex just smiled happily, though it seemed unconscious to Thomas’s eye.

“Martha never argued with me like you do, though,” Thomas mused trying to save himself, “She would just roll her eyes at me whenever I did something she found unnecessary.”

“Like what?” Alex raised a brow with amusement.

There was probably too much glee in the man’s eyes for the question to be innocent, but Thomas didn’t care: “Well there was one time a lady stopped me on the street and she asked if I did a lot of desk work, which I did, so I said yes. Then she asked me if it made my back hurt-”

“Naturally also yes,” Alex nodded.

“Indeed, so then she asked me if she could touch me and at this point I’m scared, but too far in to say no,” Thomas tells him, “So she just put her hand on my back and starts praying.”

“She blessed you?” Alex sounded delighted and disbelieving.

“Yes and I did not want to be there. So, I was sending Martha ‘come help me, please’-looks, but she just shook her head and watched me. I think she would have stepped in, if she didn’t think it hilarious,” Thomas rolled his eyes fondly, “She always asked me if I felt blessed whenever we visited a church afterwards.”

“That is hilarious,” Alex giggled at the story and Thomas felt a strange sort of pride that he made Alex giggle like that. He’d heard the other laugh before, but never giggle. It was a light sound that eased some of the pain in Thomas’s chest.

He smiled at Alex and admitted: “Maybe in hindsight it was.”

There was a natural pause in their conversation, until Alex asked: “How are you feeling?”

Thomas thought about it for a moment. The ache he’d felt in his chest when he had seen the email that morning had dulled. It was still sharper than on most days, but it didn’t feel as overwhelming and never ending as it had done.

“Better,” he answered honestly.

“That’s good to hear,” Alex said, “Do you want to go back to the couch and watch a movie? This time I’ll even let you pick.”

“Sure,” Thomas agreed easily.

“Great, do you have popcorn or something?” Alex asked, already moving around in his kitchen to check the cabinets, not even waiting for an answer.

“Upper left,” Thomas said after a while of watching Alex struggle to find it.

Alex looked up to the shelf, then back at Thomas, before he huffed: “This is just discrimination against short people.”

Thomas laughed, before getting up to grab the popcorn.

They stayed on the couch for the rest of the day, Thomas leaning into Alex’s side, neither of them caring.

For dinner Thomas made Mac-’N-Cheese and they ate while having a passionate discussion about whether the characters in the horror movie they’d watched had made the right decisions.

When Alex said he was going home, Thomas felt kind of sad about it.

“Goodbye, Alex. I- Thank you. For coming. You didn’t have to do that, but it was nice, so thanks,” he said awkwardly.

“Hey, anytime,” Alex smiled, “Besides, it was the least I could after what you did for me and-” he hesitated, “and you’re actually not that bad of a company now I know you better, so-” he shrugged, “did it with pleasure.”

Thomas smiled, it was genuine and crinkled his eyes in the way Martha had adored. He didn’t know Alex melted at the sight too.

“You’re not that bad either, Alex,” he said softly.

“Well, I see you at work,” Alex cleared his throat and stepped away then he looked back and added, “Don’t come in if you’re feeling shitty tomorrow, okay.”

“I won’t,” and Thomas found it wasn’t a lie.

Again, this is not a guide on how to deal with grief, for the love of god don’t take advise from fics. I have tried my best to make it not shit and somewhat accurate, but I can promise nothing.

I debated posting the letter separate of the fic, but it’s important to the fic and the chapter title, so I kept it like this even if it’s a bit clunky. I only decided here to make the flowers important and I thought it very descriptive of their realtions, since both knew it would end sooner than later, no matter how happy they got to be during their time together.

Also, the blessing thing actually happened to me, slightly different, but it happened. And no, I do not feel blessed and yes it was awkward and none of my friends came to my rescue.

#RR writing #tw: grief #Hamilton #Hamilton AU #alexander hamilton #thomas jefferson #george washington #Martha Wayles Jefferson mentioned #Jamilton #'Till Death Do Us Part #'Till Death Do Us Part Part 3 #'Till Death Do Us Part AU

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