The next night was Hamilton's first time in a week staying at his own apartment, his first night without Laurens in such a long while that he'd forgotten how cold and quiet it was. He hated it. The only reason he'd decided to cross the city on his bike in the pouring rain, to spend the night in a cold and empty bed, was because he was sick of wearing Laurens' too-big clothes. He found himself staring at the ceiling, wondering if Laurens was thinking of him. He'd already gotten a bag full of clean clothes ready to bring with him to Laurens' so his stays could be longer.

To try to keep his mind off the looming fact that he was so far from the man who held his heart, he wrote. Mainly the article for Lafayette, but also some much-needed college work which he was getting frighteningly close to deadlines for. While he was typing, his mind too tired to totally follow the moments of his fingers over the keys, his phone buzzed. Reluctantly, he reached over to read it and instantly regretted the decision. The message was from Burr.

Burr : You know, my eye's still black..

For some reason, it had totally slipped Hamilton's mind that he'd punched his friend, even though his knuckles stung and where still slightly bruised. He inwardly groaned, before typing out his reply quickly.

Hamilton : What do you want, Burr?

Burr : I heard that you're writing for Lafayette's zine?

Hamilton drew his attention completely away from his work, once he read that. How the hell could Burr know that? Lafayette wasn't really one to tell others the specifics of his friends' business.

Hamilton : Okay what the fuck

Hamilton : Are you stalking me or something?

Burr : No???

Burr : I mean not really

It was hard to tell whether or not he was joking, and Hamilton took a moment to reply. What the fuck was Burr up to??

Hamilton : ???

Burr : Anyway

Burr : I normally write responses to the articles in that zine

Burr : I thought I'd let you know

Hamilton : Of course you do

Hamilton : Well. Thanks

Hamilton : Jk piss off, Burr

Half-tempted to text Laff some stupid apology to get out of publishing the article, Hamilton reopened the document he'd been working on and skimmed what he'd already written. It was good, and from the heart. He sighed, feeling so weighted. But so what if Burr wanted to challenge or denounce him, he'd keep defending himself. Maybe he'd even tarnish Burr's reputation in the process. He did have the tendency to rush into things without throughly thinking it through, unlike Hamilton. Then again... he remembered Burr's Black even and grimaced to himself. If they were friends at all, what the hell were they doing?

Not even an hour had passed since the conversation with Burr, when Hamilton's phone buzzed again, this time signifying an incoming call from Jefferson. Annoyance at the constant interruptions to his work was steadily growing inside of him, but he answered the call anyway. Better to get it over with than have Jefferson blowing up his phone for a few hours, trying to reach him.

"Jefferson, Sir? It's late."

"Sorry, Hamilton, is it a bad time?"

"No, just writing. What is it, Sir?"

"Well...," Hamilton heard what sounded like a long sigh on the other end of the line, before Jefferson's voice returned, "Don't you think the title you sent me was very...forward? Not subtle at all? I've been revising the text and-"

"Why are you revising the text?"

"Some parts ...mightn't be appropriate for certain audiences. Don't worry, the version you have signed off on will be what is out for public consumption, just some ramifications were necessary for he select people I have in mind to whom the text might be impressionable. All in your best interests, of course."

Something felt off. Behind the simplistic and vague language Jefferson used, Hamilton could hear something more. But he couldn't pinpoint what exactly that was, and there was no way he'd formulate the questions necessary to uncover what Jefferson was scheming up.

"What are you doing?" The question was quiet, he knew it was a futile request.

"I've just told you, Hamilton. Don't worry, it'll be on the shelves soon, I assure you. About the title..."

"Leave it. It's fine as it is. That's how I want it."

There was a brief pause on Jefferson's end of the line, then another sigh. "..Fine. Have a good night, Alexander."

But once the line went dead, Hamilton couldn't shake the growing dread prodding at his gut. There was no way he'd be able to have a good night, nor would he get any sleep. Jefferson was hiding and planning something terrible, Hamilton had no doubt about that now. And he was a sitting duck until whatever that was played out.

His phone rang again, startling him and breaking a static silence, not long after the call with Jefferson had ended. Thinking that it was probably his boss again, Hamilton almost didn't pick it up. When he did finally look over towards the screen, and John Laurens' name caught his eye, he darted to answer.

"Hey, Hamilton, I miss you." God it was so nice to hear that soft voice again. He let himself lie down, pushing aside the bundle of notebooks and papers that were scattered across his bed, and tried his best to relax himself. He was jittery with nerves and he couldn't seem to totally concentrate, even when talking to Laurens.

"Laurens, it's so good to hear your voice I've been...you wouldn't even begin to believe what's happened since I left."

He could almost hear Laurens grin when he replied, "try me."

"Burr is going to write an article countering mine because somehow he knows that I writing for Laf? And Jefferson's up to something. Sinister. He's being.. evasive."

"Do you..want to come back to mine to talk about it?"

"Are you just using this as an excuse to get me back in your bed?" Hamilton chuckled.

"Maybe."

"Well it's working.." How had he become so weak willed that even a night away from his boyfriend was impossible? "Can you order in a pizza? I know it's what? 1AM, but I think the place across the street from you is still open? Oh and can you find the copy of my book? We need to make sure there's no changes already made to that, that just passed us by unknowingly..." Hamilton smiled, thinking of Laurens sitting up in bed thinking about him. He wondered what he'd thought about that'd made him make the phone call.

"Of course, babe."

"Wear something cute, leave your hair down??"

"So demanding," Laurens laughed. "But sure."

"I'll see you soon."

Maybe his night wouldn't be a total vortex of anxiety, after all.