Shy From The Spotlight - Alexander Hamilton x Reader

Thirty-Six

After playing music and chatting for hours, we had to bid Isabella goodbye. "It was great to see you!" Mother said as she hugged her. "It was great seeing you!" Isabella said as they tore apart. Rensselaer practically lunged for Isabella. She chuckled and hugged him.

She let go and crouched down to his level. "I've missed you." She said sweetly. He blushed shyly. Isabella kissed his cheek, leaving a slight tint from her lip coloring she wore. Rensselaer blushed bright as an apple and ran off.

Isabella faced Jeremiah and hugged him tightly. "It was wonderful seeing you again Jer." She said into his ear. "You too, Izzy." He said as they let go.

Isabella finally turned to me. I wiped away some tears that managed to show before I hugged her tightly, giving her a squeeze. "Oh I've missed you." I whispered. I had some of my best memories with Isabella!

She wrapped her arms around me tightly and I felt some of her tears drip onto my skin. "I've missed you more." She challenged. "I've missed you most." I mumbled. She chuckled lightly but we didn't let go.

"I am with you, my friend," She said quietly, barely audible. I smiled and answered, "Till the end of time."

It was our little saying growing up. We made it after she was taking the summer to go back to England with her father. She was born in London, but her father moved them both here when she was five. We met two years later. We, being the dramatic ten year olds we were, thought she was moving back to England and never coming back.

We finally tore away and wiped away our plentiful tears. We laughed at our emotional reactions and John held the door open. She was walking out when she paused. She gave me a brief, sudden hug before running out with a wave. John shut the door.

I took a deep breath and smiled. "Schuylers." We heard from the kitchen. We turned around and looked. A maid was standing their humbly, her dark skin reflecting the candle lights around the room. "Yes, Abagail?" I asked kindly. Everyone looked confused. I was the only one that remembered every slave's name.

"Dinner is ready." She said, a small smile on her lips. "Thank you." I said. She gave me a small nod before walking away. Everyone looked to me. "Abagail?" Angelica asked accusingly. She was contradicting. She didn't support slavery but she didn't do anything to stop it either.

"That's her name! Maybe if you took the time to care, you would know." I said rudely. She had no right to use an accusing tone with me! She glared at me, everyone silencing at the obvious tension.

Her dark eyes were piercing, but my glare wouldn't give. "Why should I bother when she probably only knows my name?" She questioned. "She knows more about you than Jeremiah does. Than mother does! She cares about you and the rest of us, yet I'm the only one returning the favor." I snapped aggressively.

"Oh yeah? What exactly does she know?" She asked, crossing her arms. "Abagail dear, can you come here?" I shouted. I heard footsteps and Abagail appeared by my side. "Yes, Miss Schuyler?" She asked meekly.

I turned to her and gave her a warm smile. "We are having a wager. Can you tell us what you know about Angelica?" I asked sweetly. She shifted uncomfortably. I'll make it up to her later.

"W-Well, I know that she wears pink. She keeps her shoes under their matching dress in her closet. She keeps her hand mirror with her hair comb in her top drawer in her nightstand. Below that drawer she keeps her letters. Below that, the final drawer, she keeps her hair accessories. On her nightstand, she keeps two candles always, her latest and favorite books, and several bookmarks. On her vanity, she keeps her important letters, her writing supplies, her personal seal, a fancier brush, her hat and gloves, and her hair ribbons."

I smiled in pride. "And about her personal life?" I asked. She cleared her throat, her confidence building. "She writes to at least two people, whom I don't know, everyday. She is very neat. She loves the piano and writing. She, like many women in this era, are strong for women rights. Her favorite color is truly orange, but she wears pink because it looks best on her. Her birthday is the twentieth of February, 1756. She is protective of her younger siblings."

I fought a snarky remark at Angelica. "Thank you Abagail." I said in dismissal. She smiled and walked off. I faced Angelica, who was shocked. Everyone was shocked. "Th-That- I mean," Angelica stuttered. For once, she was dumbfounded. "I'll be eating dinner." I said, walking past my silent family.