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Sometimes, John wonders if maybe it was a mistake, introducing himself to that dark haired boy at the bar with hunger in his eyes and sparks in his mouth. He thinks so, when he's dragging him, grinning, out of pub brawls at 3:00 a.m., and bandaging his knuckles the next day. But he keeps doing it, because Alexander lives and breathes freedom, and revolution, and everything John is already in love with. The Roman candle to his steady flame, he burns too quickly and too brightly. They fight together, and save each other, and he talks endlessly of his legacy, and what he'll do after the war, and he makes John want to hold on long enough to see it.
John wonders if Alexander will ever stop burning, because it's years into the revolution and nothing is that bright anymore. John certainly isn’t. It makes him miss the soft, warm light of the pub all those nights ago- but he's sure his best friends eyes are warmer. On their last night together, they lay in the grass under the stars, passing a bottle back and forth and waiting for everything they've ever wanted. At dawn, John will ride off to South Carolina, and Alex will finally have his command. Their voices are muffled in the muggy air, and everything feels warm and intimate. As the light slips over the horizon, Alexander is pressed against him, and John is too drunk to ignore it. Their first kiss tastes like whiskey, and John hopes it isn't their last. In the South, he fights, and he saves every beautifully disarming letter from Alexander. He knows, now, why he wants to hold on.
He wants to let go. He wants to burn every letter he receives about her black eyes and long hair. But he doesn't, because she's lovely, and kind, and everything Alex deserves. Because Alexander loves her, and every paragraph he writes about her is so full of life and purely Alexander that John can't help but melt at his words, even though they are not meant for him. At the wedding, he's greeted with enthusiastic calls of "Jacky", from their old friends, and a knowing look from the bride’s sister. The ceremony is bitter-sweet, seeing Alexander smile like that, and knowing it's not for him. He remembers when it was. He tries, and manages, not to break during his cursed speech. Angelica has to stop him from sneaking out.
Alexander cries when Philip is born, and John can’t help but cry with him, because his friend has his legacy, and so much more. He writes Angelica frequently, sharing her resolve to protect a family out of reach, and let every one of their stolen moments be forgotten. Eliza burns his letters, and so does John. She wants them forgotten, and he needs them to be.
Phillip dies, and the world stands still. For the first time, he wants to leave, because he wants to scream at Alexander, but he can’t when he already looks so broken.
Alexander dies, and the world ends. John isn't there to say goodbye. He was in South Carolina, when he should have been there to stop it. Everyone seems sure he could have stopped it. The aftermath of Alexander Hamilton is nothing but smoke and ash, choking those who linger too long in their grief, and so John picks up the debris he left behind. He helps Angelica, and Eliza tell Alexander’s story, while making their own. They all loved him, and they all find peace and home in one another.