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Eliza Schuyler loved living in New York, for the freedom, the people, the bookshops, the parks but, most of all, she thought, for the way it looked in the winter snow. Growing up in the middle of the woods, she was relieved and gratified to see that there could still be real beauty in urban spaces.
That was one reason she was dragging her feet in going home for winter break. It wasn’t the only one, however.
She’d made herself a cup of white peony tea in a desperate attempt to rescue herself from the hideous hangover she was currently lost in; the gang’s post-exam revelries the night before had kind of swept her away. It was Hercules’ fault, as usual, he knew she’d never turn down a shot contest and he had the constitution of an elephant. Her memories got a little hazy after that but she was pretty sure Alex had carried her home sometime around four in the morning, after she had Lafayette had almost fallen off the tables they were dancing on. It had been a good night, all things considered, a perfect way to round off the semester.
She stopped, the rim of the cup almost at her lips. Was she imaging things or had Alexander been crying last night? To be fair, she’d woken up aware of nothing but the taste of vanilla vodka in her mouth but she could distinctly remember being alone with him in the doorway of her block, using her sleeve to clumsily wipe away tears from his face, giggling maniacally as she’d poked him in the eye. Why had he been crying?
She felt her stomach tense, as it always did when she thought about Alexander. He was a tricky subject as well as a tricky person. He’d been her best friend at university, ever since she’d encountered him on a drunken night out during freshers where he’d punched a guy in the face for flinging a racial slur at her when she’d told him and his grasping hands to fuck off. They’d spent a considerable amount of time working next to each other in the library, watching films in her dorm room (it was the cleanest out of all their friends’) or having heated discussions about anything and everything at the coffee shop that only they appreciated because only they truly understood the appeal of the bluesy music it always played. Alex was the only person she’d ever met who had a work ethic that matched or, god forbid, even exceeded her’s. She’d actually found herself having to tell someone else to slow down, hiding someone else’s pens and notepad so they were forced to stop, putting a makeshift coat blanket around someone else’s shoulders when they fell asleep at a desk.
Okay. She had to admit it to herself. There were a lot of times, when she watched him rant about how blisteringly unfair congress’ handling of Puerto Rico’s debt crisis was over a shared pot of pomegranate tea or listened to him play the open piano in the student union foyer, that she’d think about him in a way she’d never thought about anyone else.
Eliza liked to consider herself quite a mature and worldly sort of young woman but when it came to stuff like that, as her sisters had regularly pointed out, she was a little naïve. In Angelica’s own words, ‘if even Peg has managed to get with someone before you, that’s kind of sad.” (Peggy swiftly threw a scrunched up ball of paper at Angelica’s head for that comment).
All she knew was that she’d never in her twenty years of life encountered anyone where she’d feel comfortable letting them kiss her or touch her in that kind of way or say those kind of things to her.
But if Alexander did it? After a lot of thinking and feeling awfully confused, she decided she’d be more than fine with that. Eliza supposed that meant she had a crush on him. She could feel her thirteen year old self’s face contorting in revulsion at the very thought.
Which was a kick in the teeth given that Alexander was gay and had been going out with another one of their friends, John Laurens for the whole semester. Angelica had summed up the whole situation very succinctly when Eliza had gotten drunk and confessed all to her over the phone with the phrase, “oh fuck.”
Eliza had tried to behave maturely about the whole thing, Alexander was her best friend and she’d be damned if she was going to let her apparently stupid heart ruin that. Besides, John was one of the sweetest people she knew; he’d been the first person she’d met who, when she’d told them her name, hadn’t immediately responded with “Schuyler? As in congressman Schuyler?” or words to that effect. Instead he’d replied with, “that necklace looks beautiful on you,” and she would always love him for that. He was kind, affectionate, funny and could argue and debate as long as Alex could, making them an evidentially good match.
So, whenever she’d see John take Alex’s hand over the table or whenever Alex would wax lyrical about some cute thing John had done while making dinner or make some throwaway complaint about how expensive condoms were (he definitely wasn’t shy about that sort of thing) she’d just tilt her head and smile, shoving whatever bitter feelings rose up far back in her brain, to a place she didn’t often go. She’d go back to smoothly dodging questions about when she was going to get into a relationship or who if there was anyone she liked, feeling her sisters’ eyes boring into her, even if neither of them were visiting.
It was fine. She was fine.
She reached for her phone, confident that there would be a text from Alex, asking if she was okay and reminding her to drink plenty of water, as there always was after a night out. There were three texts, one from her mother pointedly asking if she needed picking up from the train station any time soon, one from Peggy sending her a picture of a cute cat she’d seen on the way to school and an indecipherable one from Lafayette that she guessed was a drunken attempt at the lyrics to Abba’s Dancing Queen (that was their song, apparently). Nothing from ‘Annoying little shit’, which was what Alex was saved as in her contacts (punishment from the time he’d changed it to ‘the smartest person I know’ after she’d left her phone unlocked one time).
That was really unusual. Eliza frowned, putting her mug down, tea untouched. She fired off a text to him herself, ‘I’m still alive! Thanks for getting me home.’
She waited for a response, if Alex ever took longer than a minute to reply to a text, he was presumed dead by his friends and plans were made for his funeral. After ten minutes elapsed with no reply, she began to worry in earnest. She was about to ring him, when she jumped a mile in the air as the phone in her hand came to life. Alex was ringing her.
“Speak of the devil and he will appear,” she greeted him, trying to sound bright although she could clearly tell that something was wrong.
“Eliza,” his voice confirmed it for her; it was thick and low, like he’d been crying all night.
“Alex? Are you okay?” she asked softly when her name seemed to be the only thing her could say.
“I…I’m outside. Like I’m outside your dorm. Can you let me in?”
“Oh. Sure. I’ll be right down.”
As she flew down the stairs, her mind began to pulse with potential awful scenarios. Had something happened to John? Had something happened to one of their friends, she couldn’t remember seeing Hercules last night after they left the tequila bar, oh God, was he okay?
Alex was a mess. He stood there in the clothes he’d been wearing last night, his ponytail in complete disarray, looking crumpled and exhausted. He clearly hadn’t slept. His eyes were red and raw from what seemed like hours of crying. Eliza blinked. Alexander was quite an emotional person, she was used to seeing him worked up or upset but this was completely different. He looked crushed.
She didn’t say a word, she didn’t ask for an explanation; she just folded him into a hug. He stood stunned then clung to her like she was his anchor, trembling all over.
Two minutes later, he was sat miserably on her bed, wrapped in her light blue comforter, holding his favourite of her vast collection of mugs, full of hot tea. She sat in her desk chair, legs up on her bed, facing him with a concerned expression. She let her legs touch his side, giving him space while letting him know she was there for him. Eventually she spoke, her voice level and quiet.
“Alexander, when did you last get some sleep? You look exhausted.”
“John and I broke up.”
He didn’t look up at her, just stared down into his mug; sounding like his throat was full of broken glass.
Eliza felt emotions rise up in her but she clamped down on them swiftly. She didn’t say anything; she knew the usual clichés wouldn’t help Alexander now. She just waited, let him gather himself.
“We had a big fight last night. I said…I said some things I couldn’t take back and I spent the night in the park. I didn’t go home. I was waiting for you to wake up.”
She reached over and took his hand, pressing her thumb into his palm the way her sister Angelica did whenever she was upset. It always helped to ground her, alerted her that someone was listening to her problems. It thankfully seemed to do the same job for Alex.
“What did you fight about?” Eliza pressed him, knowing that it was something he needed to say out loud, he just needed encouragement.
Alex gave a heavy sigh, staring out of the window though clearly seeing something else.
“He has a daughter, Eliza. Back in South Carolina. A daughter and he never told me.”
Eliza tried to hide her shock and failed, “A what?”
“He doesn’t see her or her mother. He just…” Alex’s face twisted but he managed to claw back his composure, hanging on to Eliza’s hand. She gave him a minute, getting a sense that this wasn’t what he was here to talk about. After a moment, he continued.
“I was drunk and I was angry. I know that’s not an excuse but…I didn’t mean…I wanted him to know but I didn’t want to hurt him like that. I didn’t mean to just throw it at him,” Tears were building in his eyes again, he winced as they stung his cheeks.
“Alex?” Eliza prompted.
“I told him I was in love with someone else.”
Eliza bit her lip, suddenly unable to look at his face. She turned away, busied herself getting him some tissues from her desk, staring at her fingers and she knotted and unknotted them while he dried his eyes. His voice was shaky as he spoke up again.
“Eliza, I’m in love with you.”
There it was, simple and stated plainly as if it was a fact. As if it was a perfect, undeniable truth. Everything she’d hoped and dreamed, the words she’d never allowed herself to think, here in reality.
She took a sip of her ice-cold tea and said nothing, thought nothing.
“I’m so sorry, Eliza, I know it’s not fair to you at all, to put this all on you but you’re all I’ve been able to think about in so long. I’m not asking you to do anything, I probably shouldn’t even be telling you, it’s not fair. I-I just…fuck.”
He burst into tears again, heavy, broken sobs, his hair falling in front of his face, clinging to his wet cheeks.
Eliza reached over and took him in her arms again; she couldn’t bear to leave him crying like that. She wanted to cry herself. She was getting exactly what she wanted. Why was it all so wretched? Why did it feel so bitter?
“I don’t know what I am any more,” Alex sobbed, his voice barely understandable through his tears, burying his face in her sweatshirt.
“What do you mean?” Eliza said softly, the words taking her by surprise.
It took a little while before he calmed down enough to answer her intelligibly.
“I mean I was so sure…I thought I knew what I wanted. I thought I knew for certain I liked…y’know I liked guys. I was one of the only fucking things I knew for sure about myself. It was so hard; it took so long for me to feel proud of it and not…not scared or disgusted with myself. And now, after all that? I don’t fucking know any more. I’m just back to being a scared little kid.”
Eliza swallowed hard. She knew she needed to stay calm, for Alex’s sake, as much as she wanted to break down with him. But it hurt so much to hear him say these things, to hear the despair in his voice. Life had been so hard on him, right from when he was a small child. It just wasn’t fair.
“Alex, look its okay. I know it feels weird now but you can like girls and guys you know? It’s perfectly fine.”
He pulled away from her then, looking into her eyes for the first time since he’d turned up on her doorstep.
“It just feels like another reason I’m broken,” he murmured dejectedly.
Eliza put down her tea, held one of his hands tightly in her own and placed the other under his jaw, firmly ensuring he was looking into her eyes.
“Alexander Hamilton,” she said, her voice sure and steady with all the conviction she could muster, “you are not broken. You are not worthless. You’re bisexual? Fine. That’s perfectly fine. If I have to spend every single day of my life telling you that, I will.”
Alex looked stunned, but eventually his eyes softened and he looked at her the way a person who’d spent their life underground might look at the sunset. Awed, staggered and a little scared.
“And even if you are broken, whatever that means,” Eliza continued, taking a deep breath, reaching deep inside herself, “Even if you are, I don’t care, I still…I’m still in love with you.”
Alex’s jaw came damn near close to hitting his chest. His voice was a whisper, “You…you’re joking.”
“For God’s sake, Alex, I’ve had a crush on you since I met you!” she cried, half laughing, “you idiot!”
He didn’t say anything, his expression didn’t change. He just seized her shoulders, pulled her towards him and kissed her, hard and fierce.
Her first kiss tasted of tears and breakfast tea. It was the single greatest moment of her life.
They spent a long time just kissing, wrapped up in each other, neither wanting to break away. They were both crying by the time they finally came up for air. She raised her hand and carefully brushed away the hairs from his face. His eyes never left hers, unable to tear himself away from their gentle depths.
For the first time in either of their lives, they didn’t know what to say.
Eliza wondered if she looked different to the people on the street, if they could tell by the way she walked or the way she held herself, if there was any physical evidence of the dramatic turn her life had just taken.
She was going to get the two of them some breakfast. Alexander had been a little reluctant to do anything other than make out some more but she’d finally forced him to give in to his own exhaustion and she’d left him there, stripped down to his boxers, too tired to even get under the duvet before he went under.
As she walked to the bakery, she passed the alternative bookshop they’d frequented a number of times, it was always good for sparking debate and Hercules had a thing for the heavily tattooed young lady who worked behind the till. They had a selection of various flags in their window and, as she was passing, one in particular caught her eye. A small smile tweaked the corner of her lips. She disappeared inside.
When Alexander woke up, he could smell croissants and coffee. Eliza was perched at her desk chair, a slight blush on her cheeks, clearly having been watching him sleep. Despite his banging headache, he gave her a sleepy smile as she passed him a takeaway cup from their usual place.
“I got you a present,” Eliza smiled proudly, once he’d woken up a little.
“Besides the coffee? You’re spoiling me,” Alex replied, a little of his usual, casual attitude returning.
After Eliza had reached into her backpack, revealed the large bisexual pride flag she’d bought and draped it around his shoulders with a gentle kiss on his cheek, Alexander knew he’d made the right decision.
“I think I love you, Eliza.”
“I think I love you too, Alexander.”