I really really love Hamilton. I had to write a one-shot. It was inevitable.
I know that it does not really make sense for him to actually leave the house while Eliza's home, but I thought it made it more dramatic. Also, English is only my second language, so I'd be glad if you could tell me if/where I made mistakes.
Now, enjoy :)
Alexander left his house and stepped out into the night. He smelled the cold air, soft wind, tender breeze. New York lay before him like a sleeping giant. He inhaled deeply and held his breath for a couple of seconds. With closed eyes he stood under millions of stars and tried to ban the bad feeling he had about what was about to happen. Again.
His love for Eliza was never in doubt, but he could not help himself out of the situation he was in. When he had first met Maria, on that fateful day, he had known. He did not love her, but there was this undeniable physical attraction that was more powerful than anything he had ever experienced before.
Slowly, he walked beside the dimly lit houses, trying not to attract attention. Someone was coming around the corner. Alexander lowered his head.
Please don't know me, please don't recognize me, please don't talk to me.
There could not be any witness seeing him when he visited her. It was bad enough that James Reynolds knew, and ever since he had received that letter, he felt even worse when he met up with her. She made him forget all of his remorse though, even if it only was for a couple of hours.
His thoughts drifted back to Eliza, his children, Angelica... She would never talk to him again if she found out that he was betraying her sister like this. A sting of pain pierced Alexander's heart. He almost stopped walking.
What was he doing here? Why did he leave his cozy home, his important work, his sleeping children, his amazing wife, just to commit a sin? He was not very religious, nevertheless knew that what he was doing was wrong. He wanted to turn around, run back home, but his feet carried him straight ahead, then around the last corner and the Reynolds' house was in sight. Only one window was lit, on the first floor. It was the bedroom.
Alexander felt like a crippled man, with the burden of his conscience on his shoulders. But as though he was pulled by a strange power, he kept walking towards the house, his eyes locked on the one lit window.
When he arrived at the door, where he had intended to drop Maria off the first time they had met, he took another deep breath. He closed his mind to the voices in his head that screamed at him to leave. He blocked them out, alongside his bad conscience about everything he had left a block away.
This had to stop, he knew that. Just not tonight.
He knocked.