Whenever Alex saw his reflection, the tiredness always screamed for attention. He couldn't hide the dark circles under his eyes the same way he could hide a slouching slump forward from too much stress and too little sleep. John's smile never quite reached his eyes, always mocking the lies he hid, ironically right there in his facial expression. Well, having to hide your true self day in and day out would bring anybody down a few notches. So, quite understandably, both were exhausted and there was mostly silence in their tent that night while preparing for bed. Alex was finishing up some writing for General Washington, but he promised himself it would be quick. That was almost an hour ago and now he could barely keep his eyes open to see what he was-

"Ah!" He yelped, cradling his writing hand instantly. The quill blotched ink on his letter, though thankfully not where the General was meant to give his signature. For once, though, Alex's attention was not on the writing. His hand was suddenly numb, his fingers turned to ice as though his blood has stopped flowing to his fingertips. As if, somehow, it forgot about them. And there was a tingling all down the back of his hand.

"Burn yourself again?" John Laurens chuckled from bed. "I don't have a spare coat to loan you this time, Alexander. You'll have to wear a sleeve with a burn hole after all. Try explaining that to the General." John propped himself up on one elbow, squinting to see Alex in the dim candlelight. "It's been a long day, you're tired. I'm tired! Why not join me here? Try again tomorrow?"

Alex, puzzled but unable to fight John's common-sense analysis, finally deemed it time to take off his boots for the night. His writing hand was rendered basically useless, especially in the fingers, but he chalked it up to the freezing rain and hastened to John's warmth in bed.

"The light, Alexander?" John asked. "I know soldiers like us can sleep through anything, but-"

"John, sometimes you are such a spoiled child." Alex rolled his eyes and got up once more to blow out the candle. In the dark, he tested the feeling in his hand. He reached out into the blackness, pretending to offer his hand like he would to Eliza while inviting her to dance. With his palm upwards, there was a sudden shot of that tingling numb feeling all the way down his arm to his shoulder and chest. He gasped a moment.

How was he to know until it had already happened? If he had known he wouldn't see his handsome and youthful John the same way again, he would have surely said goodbye. I love you. Or, at the very least, a good night.