Hamilton Imagine: God gave him one last chance
author’s note: so I just wrote this. idk, hope you like it. Inspiration came from a similar imagine that I read some time ago💜 it is rather quite shitty because I was feeling lazy today so it is not tremendously beautiful and amazing, but I think it’s cool. enjoy it❤
prompt: y/n changes history all thanks to her tremendously big love towards lams
trigger warnings: laurens’ death
I was always known for being lost in my mind rather than paying attention to the world around me. I am a dreamer, I know, I am always remembering and feeling nostalgia, getting lost in my fantasies, thinking about my favourite versions of the world.
One thing that I am really passionate about is history. Oh man, my favourite thing ever is travelling so I can get to know every single thing about our planet’s tremendously long life. Greek and roman mythology amaze me, everything about asian history leaves me speechless and Africa’s culture is probably what interests me the most in the world.
American history, however, had never been something that striked or surprised me. I found it boring. Not really the type of history that I was interested in… Until I found Hamilton. Until I read his letters to John Laurens, and fell in love with their relationship. As the angsty-romantic young girl I was, I completely loved their story. Two men loving each other, not being able to demonstrate their love and one of them dying without knowing how much the other appreciated him? My favourite thing to daydream about.
It was night time and I was curled up in bed with my book copy of said letters, reading them for the hundreth time. I always got a bit emotional thinking about how horrendously sad and angry Hamilton had felt when finding out his lover died. I fell asleep thinking about it…
I woke up to the sound of distant muffled crying. “What the heck?” I said out loud as I sat up in my bed… Wait, that was not my bed… That was the floor. Did I fall from my bed during the night? I mean, I guess I would’ve noticed…
I got up and tried to find the light switch, but completely failed. I frowned as I looked around my room, trying to understand what was going on.
The moon light came through the window, and as I followed it to search for something familiar, I was met with a place that was clearly not my room. There was a book shelf. Some paintings from the old 1700 New York… and, at the end of the other side of the room from where I was, a baby crib. I certainly didn’t know how to react.
“I am dreaming” I thought. “Of course I am dreaming, there is no other answer to this…” I hysterically but quietly scuffed, pathing ‘round the room, heart beating faster than ever.
“Of course it’s a dream… of course it’s a dream” I convinced myself in the end. But it felt very real for it to be a dream…
The whole room cranked. Everything was made of wood, everything seemed so old… but weirdingly familiar. “That painting was from the 1700” I remembered “So this dream is from some point since that time on” I looked outside the window. I was hoping to see the countryside, but instead met the early rising New York, very stunningly different from the one I knew.
I heard a quiet gasp. I turned around and faced the crib. There was definately a baby there. I walked over to the crib and looked down. I was met with the most adorably freckled baby boy face I had ever seen. I reached out my hand to try to caress his check… but my hand didn’t feel the touch… as if I was a ghost, or something like that. Either way, the baby opened his eyes and as he looked up, I swear to god he saw me. In fact, he smiled and laughed. And I did, too.
The door opened at that exact moment. Leaving me open-mouthed, scared and without any idea of how to react. A rather young, fit and pale girl was standing in the door frame. She looked quite sad, but smiled when she looked over the baby crib. When she got closer, the light that came out from the window illuminated her… and I exactly knew who she was.
Eliza Schuyler walked over to me, but completely ignored me as she carried his son and cooed him. I realized she couldn’t see me, even if Phillip did.
“My beautiful Phillip… did something wake you up? Was it daddy crying?” She softly talked. Daddy? Crying? Alexander Hamilton…? Phillip didn’t answer her, of course, but kept smiling bright as he played with his mother’s finger. “No, I can see it wasn’t daddy… you wouldn’t be so happy” she reasoned to herself. Eliza started to sing, and kissed her son’s freckles as she did so. “Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf… Oh, Phillip. You both look so alike… Oh, you would’ve loved your uncle Laurens…” In that moment, my heart stopped beating.
The world stopped. I stood frozen where I was. Of course. Of course I was dreaming of that! Of course…
I ignored Eliza and Phillip as I ran out of the room and followed the corridor to the door in its end. The muffled crying came from there… As I came inside the half closed door, I was met with Alexander Hamilton, helplessly but quietly crying, while holding a letter in his tight-fisted hand, the light doom of the candle lighting his face.
As he stood up and went over to the window to get some fresh air, I walked to the table where he had left the letter to read it. But other letters where over the table, so I read them too. And I covered my mouth in astonishment.
So many letters had been burned, I realized at that moment. Everything the historians had recovered… all the letters… weren’t as half of the ones that were laid on that table right in front of me. There were explicit “I love you's” written on those pieces of paper, love confessions filled with sadness and rage… And back to the letter where it said “John Laurens has been killed…”
I started crying. And I don’t even know why. I just couldn’t handle myself in situations like that. They had loved each other. So much. And then it all was taken away because of one shot.
I looked over at Hamilton who was right behind the window, and went to his side. I hugged him from behind and whispered “I am so sorry this had to happen…” although I knew he couldn’t hear me. Or could he? ‘Cause the moment that I talked, he quickly turned around.
“My dear Laurens… is that you?” he asked, despair in his voice. Tears started to fall down faster down my cheeks. “No… I’m so sorry… I’m not Laurens…” I managed to say, not quite aware that he was clearly not hearing me or only listening half of the things I was saying. As he didn’t seem to have received my answer, he turned around to face the moon again. “No, my dear Laurens is forever gone…” His crying stopped, but his mysery didn’t. It felt like he had cried so much he couldn’t cry anymore.
But I still heard a muffled crying… but not from him. It came from behind me… And when I turned around, I saw John Laurens crying standing on the other side of the window, floating in nothingness… he truly looked like a ghost. Did I look like that too?
Tears didn’t stop rolling down his face as he mouthed “Help me”, and I was very surpised to find out he could see me. But what did he mean by “help me”? I figured he wanted me to open the window so he could come in, somehow as if his non-alive body couldn’t traspass walls. So that’s what I did, and I was surprised to find out that I could, in fact, touch objects, in whatever the form that I was into.
Alexander turned around, I figured he thought the window was oppened by the wind. But his face lit up, as he started crying again, he stood up and ran to John Laurens, who hugged him tight. “My Laurens… my dear Laurens… I am so sorry…” Alexander told him. “It was not your fault, my love…” he responded. They were both smiling wide. They were both saying their truly last goodbyes.
As they whispered love words to one another for a while, I just stood there, and watched them, cried once more. Astonished by the fact that their love was so strong, literally not even death could tear them apart… But then, Laurens started vanishing.
Alexander lost his touch, and he became very worried as his eyes opened up, just seconds after he was sweetly cooing with his lover, suddenly very afraid of losing him… forever now. “No, no, no, no… Don’t leave me, Laurens, don't” he said, as he started to cry harder than ever, trying to hold Laurens close, but that didn’t work anymore. Laurens, on the other side, was widely smiling, probably happy and satisfied that he got to see Alex for the last time. “Don’t forget me, Alexander. And remember you are destined to do big things… The work for this country is not done yet.”
“Laurens… I… I love you” Alexander spoke, now clearly knowing that he had to say goodbye to him at than instant. “I love you too, my love. Take your time. I’ll see you on the other side…”
He wasn’t even visible by the time he said those last words to Alexander, but I would never forget the smile of gratitude Laurens gave me. As he dissppeared, Hamilton fell with his knees to the floor. His hands in front of him, not believing what had just happened.
The door of the room opened wide as Eliza came in, finding his husband on the floor. She quickly ran to his side, as she sat down right next to him. “Alex… are you okay?” Silence fell in the room, no one moved, no one said a word.
Then, Alexander stood up and said:
“I have so much work to do…”
I woke up to the sound of my alarm going crazy. I rolled around my bed and turned it off. As I sat on the edge of my bed, I noticed my face burned and had wet stains… from tears.
“What a dream… holy fuck. I am not reading that book ever again before going to sleep” I laughed. I put my hair up in a ponny tail and went over to my laptop.
“Had the weirdest dream today… Hamilton and Laurens were confessing their love for each other moments before Laurens’ ghost disappeared” I tweeted, then responded to that tweet and tagging Lin (damn twitter and his 140 characters).
“@Lin_Manuel this ship is affecting me too much… why did you have to do this to me?” Moments later, I received the answer from my friend.
“@Y/N you should stop reading their letters right before going to sleep. I am saying it for your sanity” I laughed. Another of his tweets came up. “@Y/N but tell me, was it just as Hamilton explained it?”
I didn’t understand that tweet. What did he mean by “as Hamilton explained it”? It had been my dream! I quickly grabbed the book, and flipped through its pages. I stood froze as I read the last one.
“…but the strangest thing about all of this is Hamilton’s testimony of how he supposedly chatted with Laurens’ ghost right before he finally dissappeared. He wrote, years later, hours before he died in his last battle with Aaron Burr:
God gave me one last chance. As the window from my dormitory opened, the strong wind breeze froze me: but as I turned around my body warmed up as I was greated by my dear Laurens. And although the inmense sadness and anger may have caused an hallucination, I could swear for my first son, who was the greatest thing I got, that it was real. That his ghost, was in fact, right there. And we held each other for the longest time as we whispered what we had never said. And he vanished right in front of me minutes later… and I remember my wife Eliza, whom I have learned to love and appreciate more throughout my life, coming in just at that moment and sitting next to me for a while, but all I could think about where his last words: “Take your time. I’ll see you on the other side.” I don’t wish to hurt Burr, nor I wish for him to hurt me. But if there is a chance, by little as it can be, that I can be reunited with my dear Laurens today, after so many years, I am less afraid of death. And I hope he is proud of me.”