The day was the same as any other. Alexander and John Laurens-Hamilton were settled on their couch, with the rest of their friends spread around the room. Herc and Lafayette were squished together on a small leather recliner, whilst Peggy and Eliza were sprawled across the floor. Angelica and Eliza found themselves sitting on small footstools, and the kids were playing in the backyard.

It'd been a few years since Alexander found out that his brother was alive, and he lived a few miles away in a small apartment complex, alone, though he claimed he liked it that way.

They'd been watching a random episode of the West Wing when the call came through. Alexander's phone buzzed manically, and the snappy ringtone sang through the house.

Alex picked up the phone, quickly greeting 'hello?'. It didn't take long for his face to scrunch up, for his eyebrows to furrow in concentration, and he untangled himself from his husband, standing and leaving the room.

Angelica and Eliza looked to the door, before someone paused the show, all of them listening to the short, fiery writer speaking to the phone in the room next door.

"What? W-when? How?" His voice questioned, faltering slightly, a watery huff sounding.

"How long has he got?" His voice cracked, before a hum resounded, and he finished the conversation with a small "I'll be there as soon as I can."

Next, all that could be heard was the rushing of air as Alexander dashed around the house, before he ran into the room his friends were in, swiping his keys off of the side, a stony emotion sat on his face.

"Alex? Baby, what's wrong?" John stood, calling after him.

"It's my brother, he-" Alexander cut himself off, shaking his head, before running off and slamming the door behind.

~H~

It was two hours later that John received a call, unknowingly from the same number that his husband had received a call from earlier. He'd been quiet on edge since his husband left so abruptly, unsure of what he'd been told over the phone.

"Hello?" John said, having not recognised the dial number.

"This is New York Presbyterian hospital, we have it written down here that you're Alexander Hamilton's emergency contact. Is this correct?" They spoke, cool and even.

"Yes, is everything alright?" He stood, worry now present in his features.

"Mr Hamilton came in earlier due to personal reasons, but we cannot discuss this over the phone. Mr Hamilton isn't in any medical distress, but we do need you down here as soon as possible."

"Yes, okay, I'll be there as soon as possible." He jumped up, pulling on shoes, before grabbing Eliza and Angelica and leaving the house, after asking the rest of his friends to look after the kids, of course.

The drive felt like it took eternities, though in reality it took 7 minutes.

When they entered the hospital, they were directed to a small, private room on the third floor. The curtains were pulled shut, but one was left open, and Alexander Hamilton's form could be seen on the bed, holding his brother's limp form tightly, rocking back and forth, his hair tossed across his face, hiding his features.

A doctor approached them, pulling them aside on the corridor.

"Mr Laurens, I assume?" He asked.

"Yes, thats me, and these are Angelica and Eliza Schuylers, Alexander's close relatives." He lied, though it may as well be true.

"Okay, well, Mr Hamilton's brother was rushed into the ER earlier today, after being a victim of a hit-and-run. He was in worse shape than first thought, and he unfortunately passed an hour ago. Mr Hamilton was in the room, as requested, but we're afraid Mr Hamilton is too emotionally distressed to allow us to continue doing our jobs, as we have to take his brother's body out of the room. We thought you may be beneficial if you were to assist in allowing us to do our job." The doctor concluded, and no one spoke from then on.

Soon after, John entered the room, followed by the doctor and a nurse in training.

Small mutterings could be heard from Alexander's mouth, as his form held his limp, deceased brother's body in a tight grasp.

"Alexander, is it okay if your husband comes over to you?" The doctor asked, calm and softly. Alexander didn't reply, and John walked over slowly.

"Hey honey... I need you to come over here, yeah? Why don't we let the doctors take care of James, and you can come over here and give me a big hug, hmm?" John soothed, but his husband simply shook his head.

"James is fine. He doesn't need doctors. He's fine." He mumbled, pressing his forehead to his brother's.

"Honey, they need to do their job. I promise everything will be okay if you let them do their job." John continued, moving to his husband and pressing a small kiss to his forehead.

"He- he's gone, John, and I-I don't, d-d-don't k-know wh-what to d-do." Alexander let out a heart wrenching sob, as John picked him up, slowly moving backwards until Alexander lost contact with his brother. At this, he let out a painful wail, voice breaking as he screamed "JAMES!".

And, although it would take a while, John was sure that the superficial wound on Alexander's heart would heal, though the heartache would always remain. 

Hi! I know updates are slow, but inspiration isn't great right now, and I've recently found myself falling into the star wars fandom- so if any of you are also star wars fans, and have any fics to suggest, I'd greatly appreciate it!

Thanks for reading!