Thomas Jefferson was falling in love with James Madison. Did he mean to? No. Was it a wonderful feeling? Yes.

You see, James Madison was depressed. He told himself he couldn't do anything.

But he could.

Thomas took it upon himself to convince James that he could.

"I can't do this anymore," he would say.

"Try one more time," Thomas would reply.

"I can't take this anymore," he would say.

"Let's go for a walk outside to sort out our thoughts," Thomas would reply.

And they went like that. Eventually they forgot about they project that caused them to meet and they solely focused on each other.

One day, Thomas bought James a book of poetry.

That same day, James gave Thomas a book of poetry that he himself wrote.

Thomas always used that when James said he was useless. He wrote a whole poetry book. You'd be surprised at the great things you can do if you only try.

They were very happy together. They ate together. They shared insecurities and secrets. They had fallen in love.

They were falling in love, which means the landing would hurt.

James and Thomas had come to the end of the year. James got good grades, which brought up his confidence.

He was getting better.

James was writing. He had a boyfriend. He had good grades, which almost guaranteed a bright future for him. Almost nothing could bring him down.

Almost.

James was packing up his items into boxes, when Alexander Hamilton walked in.

"Hello, James. How was your day?"

James looked up and smiled. He was getting better at smiling. "My day has been fantastic, how about you?"

"My day was fine. I was just talking to Thomas. Is it true he helped you with your depression?"

"Well, yeah. He has supportive way with words. It's a touchy topic, so could we not?"

"Oh, but I insist."

James's smile faded.

"Alexander, I'm still recovering, but I'm getting better, okay?"

"Is it true that you really felt like you couldn't do anything?" Hamilton's words weaved through James's brain like a snake.

"Yeah…" he faded off, thinking about the dark times that had past. That had probably past.

"It's a shame that you aren't that good at anything now."

"What? That's mean!"

"Oh, but it's true. How many times did you mess up today? How many times did people laugh in your face? How do you know the people who say they love you really love you?"

James shouldn't have, but he was letting the words get to his head.

What Hamilton said next made Madison snap.

"Can you really go the rest of your life in constant fear that everyone hates you? And you know what it feels like to have people hate you…"
James was silently crying, letting the melancholy feeling wash over him.

Little voices whispered, "You're not good enough."

"They all lied to you."

"They all hate you."

James turned to Alexander, who was holding up a little bottle of pills.

"You look like a mess, James. Too bad Thomas doesn't care enough to come and check and see what might happen in the next few minutes."

And with that, Alexander calmy set the pills on the dresser and walked out, locking the door behind him. On his way out of the building, he checked to make sure Burr was severely drunk, and that all the cameras were covered with a piece of cloth, somehow.

James didn't notice that Alex was wearing gloves the whole time.

James didn't care.

He reached for the pills.