Letters - A Phillip Hamilton X Male Reader

Chapter 18: Love.

Y/N walked through the yellow tinted corridors, and nearly had bumped into multiple of Phillips siblings several times. He had wondered why such a big family lived in such a small house, let alone why they had so many kids. Maybe if they hadn't, Phillip wouldn't have been born, and this wouldn't be happening.

Y/N had wondered of what could possibly await them on their next hangout together—maybe they'd argue again, or maybe they'd punch eachother in their faces. Y/N was practically eager to start a fight with the man at this point, though he couldn't bring himself to face such immaturity.

For what adventures he could possibly find himself forced to take on? Maybe they'd go on some sort of fantasy adventure, and get into a fight while doing so. But alas, that stuff only happened in dreams. Like all of his fantasies, that wouldn't ever be true.

As Y/N approached the familiar door he found himself having to go inside of everyday, he sighed, and twisted the door handle. As he twisted the door handle down, he pushed the door open, and was greeted with the familiar face of his enemy.

His enemy had sat on the cushion of his bed, looking as if he were in thought before Y/N had even come in. He had been sitting on the very edge of the bed, looking down at his lap, before raising his head to meet Y/Ns gaze. His eyes of light blue gracefully danced with hatred, and he crossed his arms, throwing back his head as if he were some sort of dramatic royal character in a Shakespeare play.

"Can't ever seek to leave me alone, can you?" He asked, his dry raspy voice laced with venom as poison dripped from every drop of his words. Y/N didn't bother to say anything, and only walked to the desk on which he wrote a letter a few days ago. He wasn't sure of how much time he had been here—he hadn't thought to count as he didn't care much.

"I'd say the same could go for you," Y/N said in a equally raspy tone as he sat in the chair, "so why should I bother leaving you alone?"

Phillip clicked his tongue, it seemed he hadn't anything to say in response to a rather true statement. He crossed a leg over his other one, and turned his head to face Y/N who had been sat comfortably in the chair.

"You still ain't sleeping in my bed—"

"I know, for what purpose do you intend to tell me so over and over again?"

"Why? Mad you cant?" Phillip smirked, resting a hand on his right cheek. "No, it would be useless to feel anger towards someone like you. A man who isn't worth any time shall not be given any of my word." Y/N answered, picking up a random quill from the desk and sliding a paper over to his direction.

"Yet your givin' me your words right now." Phillip smirked with a roll of his eyes, "So maybe I'm not as much of a waste of your time as you think me to be."

...

Phillip was right.

Y/N didn't say another word once he had said that, and didn't dare respond to any remarks he made afterwards. But each line he made with the quill stung with deep force and great amounts of confusion. For he did not understand—why did he give him so much time if he insisted on him being a waste of time?

Why couldn't he just ignore him?

For the first time in a bit, Phillip Hamilton made him question himself.

————

Dinner had passed, and now Y/N had been sat comfortably on his makeshift bed, reading his book from the earlier hours of his dinner hangout with his beloved enemy. The book documented on the disasters and horrendous acts of Julius Caesar, and told of how he played a fiddle as he watched Rome burn to the ground.

Phillip had been laying upon his oddly comfy looking bed, it almost resembled that of a hotel bed. Fluffy, comfy, soft. Y/N could feel himself growing envious of Phillip not letting him sleep on such a masterpiece, though he did not budge. He couldn't let such a man get to him.

Y/N could feel himself being gazed upon though, a glare burned into the back of his neck as he continued to read. He wasn't stupid of course, and I'm sure you aren't either; you obviously know and he obviously knows why he felt such a glare upon him.

"Why do you stare at me so?" Y/N asked out loud, "Do you intend to make a sarcastic comment? Or do you intend to tell me of the fact that I am not sleeping upon your bed for the millionth time?"

"Gee," Phillip breathed, "do you have eyes in the back of your head? How did you know I was staring at you?"

"I could sense it. You are not as sly or clever as you may think, Hamilton. Perhaps I may be the more intelligent one after all." Y/N felt himself give into a soft smile for a moment, before resorting to a blank face again.

"Oh, please—your dumbass hasn't even kissed a girl before." Phillip practically whined as he fell onto his back, laying as if he were a snow angel made by an innocent child.

"And what does that have to do anything? Why do you suppose I should even worry about such a trivial thing?" Y/N had said, with a close of his book staring up at the man whom had still been staring down at him.

"Well—" Phillip began as he slightly turned his head to face Y/N a bit more, "I dunno if it's as trivial as you think, man. Gettin' my first kiss was the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"I'm surprised a woman even kissed you at all. Did you promise her money in return?"

"Oh, shut the fuck up—" Phillip groaned, "listen man, all you gotta know is that when you get that first kiss, nothin' is the same from now on. You don't find yourself feelin' the same anymore, and you want more of it—you seek love so you can recieve that same feeling again. And then you become obsessed—practically begging to be enslaved by it."

"Do you wish for love? Is that why you go after so many women?" Y/N asked, slightly raising a brow. Phillip didn't say anything in reply, and seemed to be searching for a possible answer to Y/Ns question, though he didn't say anything.

"Do you want someone to kiss, someone to love, or do you want to be loved?" Asked Y/N again.

...

"I don't think that's any of your concern—you don't need to know anything about me."

"Maybe this is why I do not know anything of you as you've stated previously—you never even attempt to tell me about yourself, nor how you see the world."

Phillip turned his back on Y/N, and for a moment, his voice sounded dry; "I'm goin' to sleep now.. good fuckin' night."

"I return those last words, although a bit more decently." Y/N softly said those words, and placed his book beside his makeshift bed, and began to climb into the world of slumber.

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