betteralready | me? i died for him [reslife au]

Entry tags:

reslife,
rp

me? i died for him [reslife au]

The topic comes up as they're driving some of the kids home from a retreat. Hamilton's soundtrack is good road trip music, and something Archie's listened to and read up on enough to actually know a thing or two.

He thinks Horatio's asleep in the passenger seat when one of the kids pipes up with a question about Laurens' line in the first song. Archie's surprised when none of their other residents don't know the theoretical answer-- replies easily after a glance Horatio's direction. He's facing away from him, but his breathing's fairly steady. He's probably asleep.

It makes it easier for Archie to start to explain.

"It's actually pretty depressing, if you think about it," he begins, eyes focused on the road but gaze flickering a moment to meet with the resident that posed the query in the first place, "Apparently, there's a lot of evidence indicating that Laurens and Hamilton were in a relationship, starting about when they were aide-de-camps under Washington. But Laurens had some-- really bad self-esteem and awful internalized homophobia, thanks mostly to his dad being an ass. And when the war was drawing to an end, he didn't really-- think he'd have much of a place in the world after, but he knew Hamilton would."

There's a thoughtful flicker to his expression, for a moment. He hadn't thought much of it before, but there's the beginnings of a realization of some parallels. Unconsciously, he tucks it away for later reflection.

"So there's-- quite a bit of indication that Laurens rather recklessly threw himself into that last battle he fought. That it was a kind of-- suicide by proxy, partially because he-- didn't want to live after the war, but it was partially because he knew that Hamilton had the potential to-- really be something, in the new country they were making. But he thought, and probably rightly, that that would only happen if Hamilton married a woman and wasn't-- even the least bit rumored to be romantically or sexually involved with a man. But Hamilton was too loyal and wouldn't've given up on Laurens without a fight."

Another brief flicker of his gaze back to his kid, his smile a little sad.

"So to Laurens, it seems, the only solution was to-- die, so that Hamilton would have a-- good chance at things. Hence his 'I died for him.' Depressing, right?"

"Hella," the resident agrees, "And then Hamilton didn't even manage to-- keep things going well for himself. He had to mess it all up by cheating on Eliza and-- being a stubborn, impulsive idiot."

It's easy enough to let the change in topic happen naturally. Archie lets himself laugh in response to the words, and the conversation turns easily enough to Hamilton's foolishness.

Through it all, Archie still thinks Horatio's asleep.

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"You didn't-- do it to hurt me."

He'd had to focus on that. He still has to focus on it when he wakes up in a cold sweat.

"I didn't," he affirms, "But-- still."

It didn't necessarily stop things from hurting.

Still.

Still, it had haunted him. Still, it had clung like a shadow to his heart for the rest of his life. Still, it wakes him up at night and startles him in quiet moments into scrambling to find Archie's hand to cling tight to.

"What would there be to... say?"

"I don't-- know."

A somewhat nervous flicker of his gaze.

"Whatever you-- felt, or are-- feeling."

There have been so many chances to be better, this time around. This feels like it must be one as well.

It must be that he can talk to Archie about his feelings. It must be that he can manage them into words at least that the other man will understand, even if no one else in the world.

"--it hurt. It-- broke my heart."

His nod is understanding and sympathetic.

"I'm sorry."

That needs to get out there. That's important. He just wants to leave room for more than that.

"You did it out of loyalty, Archie. Don't apologize for that."

That, really, had been half of the torture. His fingers pull away, entire body leaning back slightly to find a more protective position leaned against the wall.

"I'm not apologizing for that. I'm apologizing for-- the fact that it hurt."

When Horatio shifts away, he can't help but follow a little carefully; a touch nervous.

His breath comes in an unhappy rush, but his hands find their way to clutching carefully at one of his boyfriend's again.

"It did." His hesitation is obvious. It's one thing to throw into his own risk. It's another thing entirely to be chevalier with Archie's emotions. "You didn't mean for it to."

He holds his hands again with obvious relief, squeezing them slightly.

"I didn't," he agrees with a nod, "But-- it is okay, Horatio. That it hurt."

It had been easy to trust Archie then. It's easy to trust Archie now. If there's anything that's absolutely always been under Archie's authority, it must surely be this exact sort of allowance.

If Archie says it's okay to hurt, it must be.

As much as anything, it's a relief. His fingers squeeze a little tighter as he studies their hands, brow furrowed in concentration.

"It... It did. I thought for the longest time that it might actually kill me."

His nod is quiet, encouraging as he presses another careful kiss against Horatio's knuckles.

"I'm-- glad it didn't. I-- hoped it wouldn't."

"Just a piece of me."

An important piece of him. A larger portion of his heart than he had been able to comprehend had been lost when Archie was taken.

"I didn't... I didn't know how to mourn." Being vulnerable is a little easier this time around. It's always been easiest with Archie, quiet and safe like this. "And I couldn't-- You should have been honoured. Men should have spoken your name with reverence for-- generations. It shouldn't have just been-- the few of us who thought to toast to you-- when we were alone."

Finding Bush again had been a blessing for dozens of reasons. One had absolutely been the freedom to speak Archie's name again; to be told gently that the man who had meant the world to him was still loved by someone other than himself.

"Archie, I could barely-- It was torture to worry if I even-- spoke of you too fondly, someone might--"

It's enough, honestly, to know that he was remembered with fondness by more than just Horatio. He knows his boyfriend hadn't-- still didn't-- see it that way.

Still, it warms his heart, to know how much he'd lingered in Horatio's thoughts, even if it was to somewhat ill effect. His head ducks just slightly to hide the quiet blush; his nose bumping now against Horatio's fingers.

"That's difficult," he affirms quietly, "I wish I hadn't left you to that. That we'd had time or-- the words, to make it-- not so rough for you, after."

There's something strange but oddly affirming about having Archie look faintly at peace with the situation. It adds to the soothing nature of the words.

"If... If we'd had time, Archie, what-- what would have changed?"

"I don't-- know for certain, if it would have."

If it would have helped, or just added to Horatio's guilt.

"But I-- I wanted time to-- explain myself. To-- tell you what you meant, and to ask you to-- make sure to take care of yourself. Or to let someone else take care of you." He glances up, then, with a brief flash of a wry smile, before he continues, "And to explain to you-- why I did it, and why you-- mattered so much more to me than my life and my name. Horatio..."

He looks up again, then, his hands squeezing around his boyfriend's once more as he speaks with obvious earnestness, "...So many times before and even-- on the Renown, you had given me hope and-- another chance at life that, at the time, I wasn't sure I wanted but was-- so grateful for, after. I wanted to-- repay you at least once, in kind, and from what I understood there were likely no more dire straits I could have helped you with. Especially once I was-- dying anyways."

It really is a stunning thing, this time as it had been in the last. No matter how heavy the burdens he's asked to shoulder, Archie is able to find his smile again. No matter how harshly the world treats him, Archie allows himself this sort of earnest vulnerability.

His fingers shift carefully, nervous and protective as he clutches the other young man's hand a hair more tightly.

"I wish I could have-- given you that chance, then. That we'd had-- a little longer, at the end."

It would have been an incredibly painful weight on his soul for the rest of his life, but it would have been so easy to carry for Archie's sake.

"I wish that we'd had a little longer, generally," he replies, squeezing his hand lovingly, "But at least there's-- this time around."

It's a small consolation for their past life, but it's something.

"Would you have stayed?"

He's wondered about it. He lies awake at night most of the time, after all; his mind has drifted down thousands of possible roads often enough.

"If-- If you'd lived, and we'd managed to-- find another way out of the trial, would... would you have stayed with me?"

It had been terrible enough losing Bush when they returned home. He can't imagine what it would have been like to lose Archie that way.

He does have to pause, for a moment, at that. It's only a brief hesitation.

"I would've wanted to," he begins, "But-- I wouldn't've... I was like Laurens that way, too. I was-- worried, that if we were ever-- more than we were, that you wouldn't've been able to-- find a wife and-- be happy and successful. But I would have-- stayed, likely, as long as that-- wasn't on the horizon."

"Not-- so long, then."

Archie would have seen it coming. Archie would have sussed out the entire situation with Maria, with Barbara from a mile away. It's confusing, more than anything else, to wonder if Archie might even have pushed him firmly in that direction.

He can't decide if that hurts more to consider.

"No, I suppose not."

Although he can't help-- despite how unreasonable it is, to want to reassure about a time long over-- but blurt out the words that follow.

"I mean, I-- would've... We would still have been friends. Just-- It would have been hard, I think. If we were as-- close as we were. For you to-- find someone."

"I barely wanted anyone even-- once you'd gone."

Maybe it had been a lingering effect of romantic devotion. Maybe it had been a lack of understanding what to do with affectionate emotion in the wake of such a terrible loss.

His fingers worry absently at Archie's fingers in his own, gently reassuring--to himself, perhaps, as much as to his boyfriend. "Would have... been easier to breathe, I think. Having you as-- a friend."

It's good, at least, to feel Horatio's fingers squeezing back. It has his shoulders relaxing just slightly.

"If I could have-- been there and still kept you safe, Horatio, I would have."

The relaxation is good. It doesn't stop him from frowning slightly, but it does keep him quiet and thoughtful rather than entirely nervy.

"I wish you'd have protected yourself."

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