Hurricane - CYMFH
So basically this is like… if Hamilton had cheated on Eliza with Jefferson.
The song is Hurricane with a few things changed.
Dedicated to @jamiiton
I’m not the best at writing, and I’m unfortunately on mobile.
Alexander silently sat in his office at work, staring at the screen of his computer. The computer wasn’t even on. He just stared at his blurry reflection in the blank, black screen. He’d been at work all night. He was avoiding going home, for one reason, and one reason only: Eliza, his beloved wife was there. It’s not that he didn’t want to be around her per se. He’d just done something he regretted tremendously, and felt guilty for it.
A few days before now, Alexander ran into Thomas Jefferson, which brought him color, meaning only one thing. Jefferson was his soulmate. At first, they both denied it: “There’s no way we could be soulmates.” A week ago, he despised the man. But that mistake they made…
Alexander slept with him. He felt so much remorse over it, having cheated on his wife, who hadn’t even known his enemy made him see color. But at the same time, he didn’t regret it. He found his soulmate. He could see color.
But he felt extremely guilty, and angry with himself.
Reaching up slowly, he turned the computer on. He sat there, tapping his fingers on the table while waiting for the desktop to load. His face held a dark, determined look. He looked… well, mad. Crazy. Insane. When the computer finally came on and revealed his desktop background—a picture of him with his beautiful family—he growled in frustration.
The small man opened the writing program and began typing. He typed two sentences, before pausing and staring at the screen. “In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet,” Alexander murmured to himself. “For just a moment: a yellow sky.” He got up quietly made his way to the window, staring down at all of the people roaming the busy New York streets, trying to get out of the heavy rain that had just suddenly began. He clasped his hands behind his back.
“When I was seventeen a hurricane destroyed my town. I didn’t drown—I couldn’t seem to die.” Alexander’s rested his head against the window, his eyes taking on a distant look. “I wrote my way out. Wrote everything down far as I could see. I wrote my way out. I looked up and the town had its eyes on me.” The man took a deep sigh, shutting his eyes. “We passed a plate around and total strangers moved kindness by my story. Raised enough for me to book a passage on a ship that was New York bound.”
Alexander straightened and opened his eyes. Quickly, he made his way over to his computer once more and sat down. “I wrote my way out of hell, I wrote my way to my position. I was louder than the crack in the bell. I wrote Eliza and John love letters until they fell. I wrote about our successful company and defended it well. And in the face of ignorance and resistance, I wrote financial systems into existence. And when my prayers to God were met with indifference, I picked up a pen, I wrote my own deliverance.”
Staring at the computer screen once again, he exhaled quietly. “In the eye of a hurricane there is quiet for just a moment; a yellow sky.” his gaze darkened. “I was twelve when my mother died. She was holding me. We were sick and she was holding me. I couldn’t seem to die.”
Aaron Burr, who had peeked into Alexander’s office to check up on him (he’d been rather quiet in the meeting) narrowed his eyes and whispered quietly. “Wait for it.” Without a sound, he shut the door back and walked off.
Alexander noticed nothing. He began typing on his keyboard quietly. “I’ll write my way out. Wrote everything down far as I can see. I’ll write my way out, overwhelm them with honesty. This is the eye of the hurricane, this is the only way I can get rid of my misery.” he paused for a moment, looking at the screen. He clicked in the title box and typed one last thing: “The Jefferson Pamphlet.”