Somewhere out there there is a tree, tirelessly producing oxygen so you can breath. I think you owe it an apology.
Hamilton-Teen
It had been a long time since Aaron had blown up on anyone. If there were an award for someone who was the poster child of calm and level headed, Aaron would be next to Washington. It took a lot to piss him off enough to say something. His passive aggressive end the conversation and get out of there tactics usually got him out of uncomfortable, frustrating situations.
But damn Alexander. Damn him and everything he loudly stood for. No one could test his patience more.
Today was finally a breaking point. He had a migraine, was exhausted from midterms, and still had an essay to finish, and Alexander wouldnât leave him alone to let him finish. He just kept talking and talking and talkingandtalkingandtalking until finally, Aaron snapped.
âAlexander, shut up!â he shouted, not caring that they were in the libraryâs study rooms. âSomewhere out there there is a tree, tirelessly producing oxygen so you can breathe. I think you owe it an apology. Now get the hell away from me so I can finish my work.â
The look of shock on Alexanderâs face was burned in his memory for life. THE Alexander Hamilton, stunned into silence. Well, Aaron couldnât blame him after what heâd just done. Aaron never raised his voice at anyone. Even when Alexander had dragged him to a soccer game once, Aaron didnât cheer with everyone else. He wasnât a loud person.
Aaron, making sure he was understood, pointed in the direction of the door. Alexander took the hint, expression falling before he grabbed his things and trudged out of the study room silently.
Aaron was relieved that he could work in the peace and quiet. Finally. Although guilt nigged at him in the back of his mind. He shouldnât have blown up on him. What had Alexander even been gushing about? Oh, an essay that was being published in some literary journal. The guy would get scholarship money for that. Good for him.
Maybe he could have said something sooner. Tell Alexander that heâd treat him to coffee later as a congratulation but for now, he had to finish this essay? OrâŠsomething.
Whatever. He had an essay to write.
Several hours later, Aaron looked up when a cup was set beside his laptop. He could smell the spices from the chai latte, his favorite hot drink, and felt some of the tension seep out of him. There was a sticky note attached that simply said âsorryâ in Alexanderâs handwriting. By the time Aaron looked up, the boy had already shut the door behind him.Â
