Guys, I am so sorry. I had no intention of staying away for so long. I just had major writer's block and subscription to Disney+. 

Anyway... here's the long-awaited next chapter! If it seems a bit disjointed, it's on purpose. Alex... isn't in the best, most clear, state of mind in this chapter.

Please let me know what you think!

P.S. I don't support drinking in any capacity (I'm not here for an argument, just stating my opinion) so don't think any of Alex's actions are necessarily endorsed. 

WARNING: Anxiety Attacks, Self Hate, and Borderline Suicidal Thoughts

~TH~

February 1798Alexander

He was exhausted, absolutely exhausted. Alexander couldn't remember the last time he had slept for enough time worth mentioning. This wasn't completely unusual, but the overwhelming heartbreak added to his physical exhaustion causing a strange haze to cover his entire world.

It didn't matter now. It was done. John would return with the signed papers and this entire nightmare would be over. Well, not over exactly, more like.... Decided. His fate would be decided. He would have to wait and see what Eliza did. If she and Jamison decided to stay in the City he would have to leave. If they went back to Albany, he would be able to stay. Not that it mattered. After the news broke, he would be lucky to get any clients. Maybe it was best for him to leave regardless.

He downed another shot of whisky, before refilling the glass. The burning caused by the alcohol almost matched the burning caused by his wet eyes. But nothing could match the burning in his heart. If he didn't know any better, he would say that his heart had been stabbed with a flaming arrow. Who decided cupid's arrow was a good thing? Why was something used in wartime to cause pain also used to represent love? Maybe it was trying to say what Alexander was slowly coming to realize, love hurts. Pain and love were nearly synonymous. Cupid's arrow indeed.

Glass in hand, he moved to stand by the window. It was raining. How appropriate. The sky had darkened to a dismal grey, easily matching his own mood.

A brief knock sounded at the door. "Come in." He kept his back turned, his eyes on the dreary street.

"Alexander," The voice was feminine. The voice was Eliza.

His breath caught in his throat.

"Alexander, please, we need to talk."

He didn't answer. Instead, he slightly sloshed his whisky, took a small sip, then tipped the entire glass back.

The burning seemed to give him the power he needed as he turned around, locking eyes with his wife. She seemed startled by his sudden movement, or perhaps it was the anger clearly shown on his face. Up until this moment all anger had been directed towards Jamison. Now, whether it was the exhaustion, her presence, or perhaps he was simply more drunk than he intended, but the anger had once again been roused and aimed, this time, towards Eliza.

"Talk? About what? Surely there isn't anything that needs to be discussed. You've barely spoken to me in a month, and now you want to talk? Why? I left you everything, I've given you your freedom, what else do you want?" The glass in his hand shattered as he involuntarily squeezed it.

Eliza took a step back as if frightened, then moved forward. "Alexander, your hand."

"Don't touch me!" Hamilton hissed, jerking away. She stopped and he wrapped his handkerchief around the cut on his hand.

"Alexander, please, I came here to talk. I need to- I can't sign the papers."

Hamilton let out a rueful laugh, "Really now? Why not? Feeling guilty now?" She flinched at that and Alexander wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"It's fine," he whispered, sinking into his chair, "you don't have to lie anymore. Jamison told me everything. You don't have to feel guilty about anything. Just sign the papers and leave."

She shook her head, "No, I won't. What did he tell you? What lie could he possibly spin that would cause you to cast me away."

"Me, cast you away?" He slammed his fist on the desk, "Eliza, this isn't about me! This is about you! About making you happy! I don't want you to be stuck in a marriage if you don't want to be! I would never do that to you, Eliza, don't you see? If you feel that I can't provide for you, then you should have someone who can!"

"Alexander, I never said that. I don't want anyone but you. If you insist on divorce, I will grant it, but for you, not for me. I will never marry again, Hamilton. Not because of divorce or death. Because I love you, Alexander. I love you. Not Ezra, not anyone but you."

Alexander stood up, unable to sit still any longer. He began to pace behind his desk. His head was buzzing with everything. All he wanted to do was the right thing. Why did that always seem to be so hard?

"What happened with Jamison was a mistake. Nothing was done out of love, only a sinful lust. I never slept with him, Alexander. We kissed twice. Once at the party and once yesterday, that is it. I swear to you. I love you and none else. Don't let Jamison manipulate you into doing something you will regret. Because I know it is something I will regret for the rest of my life. If you truly love me, come home. Forget everything Jamison said and come home."

He couldn't breathe. The walls were closing in on him. Someone touched his arm and he jerked back, eyes wildly searching for his attacker.

"Alexander? What is it? What's wrong?"

"I, I can't-" Was he having a heart attack? He put a hand to his chest like that would somehow provide more oxygen.

He felt his knees give way under him and would have fallen completely if not for Eliza holding him up.

"John!" Eliza called. Alexander wanted to intervene but the black spots overtaking his vision hindered him. He was on his knees now. An unrelenting pounding had settled behind his eyes. He hissed in a breath while Eliza continued to call for help.

He should be stopping this. He shouldn't be letting her help. He shouldn't be bothering John? He'd already been such a bother.

He couldn't do anything right. At the moment he couldn't even breathe right. Jamison was right.

But Eliza said he wasn't.

But how could he not be?

How could a poor orphan ever think that he was good enough to mary Eliza Schuylar, the most perfect woman on earth?

Who was he really mad at? Eliza? Jamison? Or was it just himself? Was he just mad at himself for ignoring reality for too long? For letting things get this far. For once in his life having hope that things could get better for him?

For not accepting that he was worthless.

But Eliza said-

It didn't matter was Eliza said.

He needed to...

Needed...

Alexander took a choking breath, the voices around him made his head spin. He couldn't deal with this right.

He needed to...

Needed...

He needed...

Sleep.

His body obeyed for the first time in days.

Everything went black.

~TH~

Please let me know what you think!

It's not my favourite chapter, but it's what I got today. 

Poor Alex baby just needs a hug and some self-assurance.

I plan to start uploading properly again after today. Maybe not tomorrow, but by next Friday. 

And if you guys are into Dear Evan Hansen, go check out my DEH one-shot, "(DEH) MY Suicide Note This Time" (or "Stars in Our Eyes" for my Wattpad friends).

Until then!

Gosh bless,
Jamie