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Burr cannot understand it. His cool mind simply cannot comprehend this sudden, overwhelming wave of tenderness that engulfs him when he looks at Alexander, the way his heart trembles like a frightened bird. Just a moment more, and it will break free from the cage of his chest and fly away into the air.
A danger Burr is not ready for; a loss of control, a release of feelings that do not fit into this particular arrangement. It is exactly the same tenderness he could nurture in his heart for Theodosia while leaning over her emaciated figure. A feeling meant for his wife and no one else.
Well, he had always appreciated Hamilton; that one fact remained constant. He appreciated his flexible body, his fiery passion, the physical pleasure he could give him, nothing more. The fact that for years they had both remained faithful to a kind of boyish tradition of trysts was due to convenience. They had grown accustomed to it; satisfying each other's needs had become a kind of ritual that simplified their lives.
But now something had changed; there was no longer Theodosia's pale face and tired eyes at home. In fact, there was no longer really a home at all.
The heart instinctively desires tenderness, he tells himself now, without freeing himself from the sticky sheets; there is nowhere else to go anyway. Hamilton sleeps, weary not so much from sexual congress as from life itself. His face, so grey and emaciated, strangely reminds Burr of Theo's, even though the two bear no resemblance to each other in appearance. This delicate thread of similarity provokes a sudden protest in his heart. Hamilton is not Theo; he is his own person, wild, real, alive, so very alive. His destiny is to destroy Burr's life, and Burr cannot imagine a world without him.
A world without Hamilton, what a crazy thought! A world without complaints, tantrums, quick kisses like a note written in the margin - it wouldn't be a real world. Hamilton simply has to exist, he, the other side of his coin, his rival, dangerous because they are a little too similar, a lover - but never a friend, because that would be crossing certain unwritten boundaries.
Burr has to admit that he has become too accustomed to this man's presence in his life. Hamilton is a bit like laudanum – except that he isn't. He does not soothe the pain, but only sharpens all of Burr's senses to the point of despair.
He turns over in the bed that belongs to neither of them (and yet somehow they both stayed) hoping to stifle the twinge in his chest; he is sensible enough to understand that the cause of pain is that pale face, covered with boyish freckles and middle-aged wrinkles. But turning away does no good, and Burr closes his eyes in frustration.
He cannot be in love with Hamilton, the very thought is ridiculous. He never even seriously considered the possibility that he could feel anything more than the simplest, physical attraction for this man. Falling in love is for husbands and wives, for peaceful homes, for years spent together.
Burr quickly compares this vision with what he and Hamilton have: instead of a loving marriage, two men who started out as unruly, lustful boys; instead of a home, rooms in dark taverns; instead of a long life together, stolen moments. The balance is very unfavourable.
A cold hand suddenly touches his waist and Burr turns around sharply again, thinking he will see wide-open blue eyes, but Hamilton is sound asleep and in his sleep he pulls Burr closer to him. He mumbles quietly something Aaron cannot quite make out, his red curls streaked with grey falling over his face. If he were conscious, Burr knows he would never touch him so sweetly, with delicate, shy fingers. The touch would be kept to an absolute minimum, sharp and almost impatient. A necessity, satisfying essential needs.
Which Hamilton is the real one, Burr wonders, though perhaps he shouldn't think about it too much. This elusive shadow of the night or the haughty politician with a sharp tongue?
Before he knows it, he grabs a strand of red hair and presses it to his burning lips. Hamilton, the only constant in his life...
"Burr?..." Sleepiness resonates in the voice of the only constant in his life as he stirs, lifts his head slightly from the pillow and peeks at Aaron with narrowed eyes; he almost rubs them like a child waking up. Burr feels his stomach clench uncomfortably.
In a moment, Hamilton will realise what is happening.
But the ironic twinkle in his eyes and the sharp joke do not follow, even when Burr lets go of Hamilton's hair in a ridiculous panic. Alexander lets out a quiet sigh of exhaustion and allows his head to fall back onto the pillow.
"I fell asleep," he says softly, as if probing dangerous territory ahead.
"Yes," Burr confirms.
"I suppose... you'd like me to go?"
This is new; Hamilton has never asked such questions before, he has always done as he pleased.
"It's your decision; I can't chase you away from here, can I?"
"You can," Alexander is suddenly strangely violent. "You have the right to. Your wife is dead and..."
He stops, realising he has broken an unwritten rule.
"Thank you for your concern," Burr says dryly.
"Do I... remind you of her?" Hamilton does not look at him.
"You? Remind me of her? Nonsense!" Burr tries to sound as cruel as he can and ignore how close to home the question has hit. He is pleased with Hamilton's flinch, because it means that Aaron has managed to deceive him. "You're a pleasant distraction. That hasn't changed over the years."
"Then don't touch my hair as if I were some bloody lady you're courting," Alexander growls with growing anger. "If this is part of some joke of yours, just know that it's not funny!"
"For God's sake, go back to sleep! You're so much nicer when you're asleep and finally quiet."
"So you do want me in bed with you?"
"Like I said, it's your decision. You can stay, or you can..."
"What do you want, Burr?" Hamilton is shouting now. He clenches his fingers in Burr's hair in blind fury and pulls his face close to his own, red with emotion. "Tell me!"
Burr can't say it. The words die in his throat and he just stays silent - and Hamilton slowly loosens his desperate grip on his hair.
"You're driving me crazy, Aaron. Crazy," he finally says in a choked voice. "But I'll stay, damn it. I'll stay because, listen, I want to. You're a madman, but I can still sleep at your side for some reason. God just hates me, though I'm not surprised, because I am a bloody sodomite after all."
He cries, and Burr is overcome with a wave of resentment towards him, because soon this night and its near confession will fade from Hamilton's memory.
"We are equally guilty," he reminds Alexander dryly and without a trace of pity.
"But you don't care! You don't give a damn and live peacefully with your sin, without paying much attention to it."
And Burr has had enough of this brazen hypocrisy.
"I don't care? You come to me like a client to a brothel, and then you go back to your wife, to your family!"
"Until recently, you had a wife too."
"So what?"
"So what? I'll tell you what: I hated her and the fact that loving her came naturally to you!"
"Did you just..."
"Yes! Yes! I just said that I envy your wife."
"Are you..."
"Yes, for God's sake!" Alexander is shaking with wild rage. "I like you, I'm in love with you, you bloody paper-skull!"
This is really too much for Burr. The whole world seems to be spinning.
"But... you love your wife."
"I love her, it's true! Burr, Aaron, I don't understand it myself, but I need you to..."
"It's adultery."
"Is it only now that you're thinking about that?" Hamilton laughs bitterly. "But it's technically sodomy, not adultery."
"No, Alex. You said it yourself... it's attachment, it's love..." "
"Ah, I see; now you're starting to understand that my behaviour isn't just about physical needs. Now I disgust you because I act as if I have a right to this behaviour, as if I were your wife. Now you definitely want me to get out of the bed you're lying in, right?"
He starts to get up, but Burr stops him. He knows that under no circumstances can he let this man leave.
"No, Alexander, don't go, I beg of you! You wanted to know what I want; this, exactly this, for you to stay and tell me once again that you are in love with me."
"What?..."
"Just say it!"
"Burr, don't torture me like this!"
"All right," says Burr with sudden ecstasy. "If you won't, I'll do it myself. Alexander Hamilton, I think I am desperately, madly in love with you."
Hamilton's expression is absolutely priceless, and Burr almost does not regret these words, spoken so spontaneously.
"So what?" Now it's Alexander's turn to say it, after a moment of silence, brutally. "Tomorrow morning it won't matter again. I'm not your wife, and your sweet words mean nothing to me. I was very foolish to think..."
"Oh, so stop thinking," Burr laughs, overcome by a sudden carelessness. "You're not the best at it. Too much thinking only causes more problems."
"Are you trying to seduce me?"
"My dearest, I've been doing it for years, and for years I've been partially successful. Only your body belongs to me, not your heart, never your heart."
"You're wrong," says Alexander, quietly, bashfully, like a young lady with an innocent infatuation. Burr's heart dances in his chest at these words, which he has longed to hear for years. "I've already told you myself; don't you trust me? You have my heart, just like Eliza."
Yes, Aaron thinks, somewhat bitterly. The truth is that this love will never be the same as the other.
"You met me first," Burr cannot hide the note of jealousy creeping into his words. "If our world were different... if we didn't have to hide... would you still marry her?"
Something dark appears on Alexander's face.
"Are you suggesting that I don't love her at all?"
"Sodomites usually... well..."
"And yet you exchanged letters with a married woman ten years your senior, Burr. And yet you married her as soon as you could."
"Yes," Burr sighs.
"Did you do it just to cover up what we did as boys?"
"No; I married her for herself, for her brilliant soul."
"Exactly. I couldn't give up Eliza for you, you understand?"
Burr's heart aches, but he does understand.
"I couldn't give you up for Eliza either," Alexander adds so quietly that Aaron can barely hear him, his voice heavy with guilt. "The fact that loving her is easier — for reasons imposed on us from outside — is another matter."
They lie in the dark for a moment. Burr sighs again and runs his fingers over Alexander's chest, absent-mindedly wondering if tomorrow they will return to their ironic banter bordering on cruelty. Deep down, he is sure that this will be the case. After all, one night, no matter how many confessions it contains, cannot change an entire life, which, after all, does not depend solely on them. Outwardly, their relationship will remain the same; but inwardly, they will be filled with a new, comforting awareness that wonderful words have been spoken. Yes, perhaps this thought will prove enough to inspire some hope in him in this hopeless world.
"Go to sleep, Aaron, and don't think about tomorrow," Alexander whispers in his ear, the first notes of condescension in his voice, a foretaste of the inevitable Day. "What will be, will be, and we cannot change it. But maybe our children, our grandchildren..."
"And who is thinking about tomorrow, between the two of us?," Burr mutters sleepily, and hears Hamilton's ironic snort in response - but if Alexander says anything else, he no longer hears it.