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I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater
Charles Lee swallowed another large flask of beer as Aaron Burr roared joyfully and cheered him on. After his fifth or six glass, his head started to haze, and he grew to lose count of how many he had chugged now. His shoulders slumped, his words slurred yet his voice grew louder by every pint. Lee's grip would loosen on the next glass he was given, and now he was bent over his glass, staring at his reflection in the murky intoxicant. He giggled. He looked funny.
His hair was swept right, unlike his usual middle wave parting he was used to styling it as. Not only that, but his uniform was scruffy and very unpresentable. He was also extremely cold. Aaron leaned over to try make eye contact, "Wow. You really do look fucked."
Lee groaned, "Tell me about it," a hiccup escaping him.
Burr raised a brow at his shivering, "Don't tell me you're cold?" He laughed, the warmth in it flooding the room. Grumpily, Lee nodded, swivelling around in his chair in a huff and going back to his drink.
Suddenly, a purple velvet jacket was thrown over his shoulders, and Burr smiled happily. "Aye, I'm fine. Have it."
You said it looked better on me than it did you
Lee grimaced gratefully, now feeling guilty for taking it so easily. But Christ was he cold. "The purple really suits you actually," Burr complimented, sipping on his beer thoughtfully.
Only if you knew how much I liked you
He blushed, though the already flushed state of his face covered any proof of such. "Thank you."
But I watch your eyes as she
Walks by
A clattering noise sounds from the bar door, and Alexander Hamilton strides proudly forward towards the counter to order something. Charles notices Burr's eyes following him around the room, and his lips purse and his grip on his beer tightens.
What a sight for sore eyes
Brighter than the blue sky
The smile on the man's face is so cheerful it irritates Lee. A war. A war and this man has the gall to be cheerful? He scoffed internally. Of course he's happy. Hamilton's Lauren's best mate, he'd be ecstatic to see Lee on the floor doubled over in pain clutching an injury where a bullet pierced him. Lee gritted his teeth, slowly blinking his eyes. Holy shit was he drowsy. Hamilton's smile irritated him beyond belief, and if he'd been sober, he'd have clubbed Hamilton over the head by now.
Not a good idea, but Hamilton was lucky he was pissed off his rocker.
She's got you mesmerized while I die
Lee looked back at Burr, who was still staring. He doesn't say anything, and rather turns back to solitude by peering into his glass. There's some negative voices that sound in his head, and a strange feeling that growls in his stomach.
Was it ... jealousy? No, it couldn't be, surely? Who was Lee to dictate who Aaron could and couldn't look at? But the feeling was there, and undeniable at that.
Why would you ever kiss me?
I'm not even half as pretty
Burr looks down at Lee, eyes warm as he gazes. He leans down and hugs Lee, sliding down into a stool and smiling. Lee nuzzles into the side of his neck, tired and dazed. Aaron talks to him in a hushed voice, "You warmed up? Hamilton looks a bit cold, mind if I give it to him?" Fury jumps into the mixture of emotions, but he shuts it down. The jacket was Aaron's, he could decide who had it. So as much as he hated it, he nodded.
Another pang of something appeared in Charles' chest as Burr removes the tailcoat from him.
You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester
But you like her better
Wish I were Heather
Burr walks over to Alexander, a happy smile on his face as he passes him the coat, the writer accepting it gracefully and cracking to what seemed to Lee as a joke.
He did not laugh.
The fury came back, this time more subtle as the two conversed. Why oh why was he getting so worked up over his ... only friend ... talking to someone else. It was unfair. Unfair to Burr and unfair to him. Charles slammed his beer glass down on the table in frustration. Why did he care? Did he envy Hamilton?
Lee knew it was wrong. Burr had known Hamilton long before he'd known him.
So why'd it hurt so much? And why did he wish he was Alexander?
Watch as she stands with her, holding your hand
Alexander takes Aaron's hand and kissed it formally, probably for thanks.
Put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder
Burr placed his arm around Hamilton's shoulder, raising a glass and laughing heartily out into the tavern. So much so that Lee could hear. Charles shivered slightly, but he forced down his chill by replacing it with a swig of beer.
But how could I hate her? She's such an angel
Alexander was a smart man, highly intelligent, he had to give him that. If he wasn't such an annoying man, maybe they'd have gotten along. Lee refused to admire him anymore and bit down any thoughts.
But then again, kinda wish she were dead as she
Walks by
He hated Hamilton, he hated him. The way he primped and preened and dressed like the pits of fashion. Especially the way he made everything about him whenever he walked into a room. Fuck! What was he doing?
Burr was a free man. It wasn't like they were dating or anything. So why did he utterly despise them talking to eachother as they walked around the bar?
What a sight for sore eyes
Lee floppily stood up, finishing his beverage and taking his belongings, eyes never leaving the two as he packed up. He grimaced.
Brighter than the blue sky
Atleast they were happy.
She's got you mesmerized while I die
Lee wiped some bastard tears that were traveling down his face. God damnit. He didn't turn around to see if Burr cared.
He slammed the door behind him and began running.