#g a

Aaron reached his hand under his pillow and curled his fingers around the familiar grip of the gun. 

Another creak sounded through the house, followed by a muffled curse. The muttering had Aaron’s heart seizing in his chest. It didn’t matter. He tightened his grip and sat up, careful as to not make a sound. 

No one was supposed to find him here, not after he had worked so hard and so long to stay hidden. He needed to figure out whoever was here, find out why they were here - how they’d found him. And then he needed to kill them. Simple.

Aaron inhaled deep through his nose and turned all of his attention toward the door. The creaks were coming closer. Whoever was here was taking their time - time that could be used to share information, strategize, plant something. Aaron stood up, taking care to keep the spread of his weight even. 

There were a dozen names running through his mind - Jefferson’s administration making up most of them - but the absolute last person Aaron expected to see when his bedroom door pushed open was Alexander Hamilton.

In his shock, Aaron lowered the gun.

Alexander’s eyes - beautiful, shining just as bright as they always had, glimmering with some sort of secret ambition of his - were wide. 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Alexander said, words coming out broken. God, even his voice - so different from how Aaron remembered it as usually being - was enough to have something curl in Aaron’s chest, a sob wanting to tear its way through his throat. “You-you…they told me you were dead!”

The anger was familiar. Alexander’s shock was gone, replaced with anger - he’d always been so quick to switch between the two, always so offended when anyone managed to surprise him. 

“They told me it’d be an easy job today,” Alexander said. “They gave me an address and told me to kill whoever was inside. They said I shouldn’t have any issues with it. I was expecting someone who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

The look on Alexander’s face was one that Aaron had seen time and time again, had memorized it even, traced it over in his dreams - Alexander had always been so beautiful when going against those he opposed. It might have always itched at Aaron the wrong way, the confrontation, but even that wasn’t enough to stop Aaron from admiring the work of art that a passionate Alexander was.

“They told me you were dead,” Alexander spit out, stalking forward. “They told me they had you taken out after they saw you shoot me! You shot me! And then you were dead! I’ve had to live with knowing it was all a lie, having no closure! And you’ve been here this entire time!”

Aaron swallowed around the lump in his throat. 

Alexander was so close now, Aaron could reach out and touch him. He could let go of the gun in his hand and put his hand out and brush Alexander’s skin. The desire - the want, the need - to do so was near unimaginable. 

“You said you loved me,” Alexander whispered, and such a soft sound from such an angry man was enough to shock Aaron into really paying attention. “You said you loved me and then they told me you were the one who shot me. Do you understand what that did to me? What I’ve had to live with?”

Even with everything that had been building within him during those months, Aaron had made sure his last words to Alexander were those of love, of genuine affection.

Looking at Alexander now - so much thinner than he had ever looked while Aaron knew him, face narrow and harsh, hair cut short to his scalp, clothes ripped and torn - perhaps that had been a mistake. 

Aaron set the gun to the side, slow and steady in his movement, too aware of Alexander’s sudden tension at the break from his stillness. 

He looked up at Alexander, ran his tongue over his lips, and made sure to meet Alexander’s eyes. There was a gun fixed on him, aimed right between his eyes. Alexander was angry, and this would make it worse. 

“Alexander,” Aaron said, lips forming the name for the first time in years. “I did love you, I still do.”

A moment of stillness, Alexander’s eyes boring into his own, still burning with fury.

It wasn’t surprising that Alexander pulled the trigger. 

What was surprising was the sound of the second shot that Aaron didn’t hear, followed by a body falling to the floor.

Ill-Studio + Pigalle

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