(This is when Alexander and Aaron Burr have their duel, but something goes.. wrong. TW: Guns, shooting, blood and possible death!)
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No... This isn't how things were supposed to happen...
How did it end up this way..?
Today was the day, July 11, 1804. He was to have a duel with Aaron Burr today. Today was the day someone was dying, either it be Burr or himself.
The sun, shining down upon the two as they stood face to face, pistols in hand, a small medical team not too far away, they stared each other down for a moment or so. Then, Alexander turned his back to Burr. Alexander put his spectacles on his nose, adjusting them comfortably before he lifted his pistol in the air to fire.
Then, a loud shout from Burr.
"Wait!" A loud BANG rang out right after, yet, Alexander hadn't fired his pistol. And he hadn't been hit. Turning around in confusion, he looked at Burr, who was staring at the ground in front of Alexander in horror before he was ushered away by the medical team. Alexander looked at his feet, and his eyes widened in pure, unbridled horror.
His lover, {{user}} Hamilton, the man he'd married so many years ago, was still at his feet, a shot right between his ribs, the blood seeping into his white frilled shirt.
Hamilton dropped to his knees, scooping up his lover in his arms.
"No.. No, no, no, no, no!" He muttered frantically, a hand going to the wound to attempt to stop the bleeding.
"{{user}}.. {{user}}!!" His voice raised as he called his lover's name, his only response the slow, uneven rising and falling of his chest.