Letters - A Phillip Hamilton X Male Reader

Chapter 28: The Enemy Savior

That night, Y/N Burr had sat and pondered inside of the living room. He could distantly recall and encounter that he had with Phillip Hamilton before he left off into the evening, he was honestly astonished that he decided to go for a walk at evening of all times. Couldn't he have gone to walk much earlier? But then Y/N would have to be in his company. After all, his father still thought they were friends.

He could recall the words Phillip had spoken to him in the living room before he had decided to randomly leave off.

————

"And I'll be takin' a walk, so you better not be up to any shit while I'm gone." Thats what Phillip Hamilton had said to him before he left out of the door of his own house. Y/N had looked up at him with bubbling curiosity, "Why would you be taking a walk at evening?"

"I don't see why not." Phillip shrugged, looking genuinely puzzled at such a question. "Do you normally put yourself at risk in such situations where your enemy is in your company? It is almost as if you'd throw yourself into a fire in order to not be with me." Y/N commented, arms crossed.

"Bein' on fire would be better than bein' with you!" Phillip replied rather defensively, gesturing with his right hand as if he were some fair maiden in a victorian love story. Y/N furrowed his brows, "For once, I agree with you. I certainly would rather let my skin melt and peel off than have to hear your irritating voice."

"Damn, did ya have to make it that detailed?" Phillip asked, looking rather disgusted at the odd description the man had just given him. "I do not see why I shall not add such details—for why do you intend on questioning me so?" Y/N placed a hand on his cheek.

"Why do you insist on addin' random words to your sentences all the time? Can't ya just ask something normally?" Phillip questioned with a raise of his brow, for a moment the disgust left his face and only confusion faded in.

"That is what a sentence is. Do you not comprehend the definition of a sentence? They are words combined together in order to form—" Y/N was interrupted by Phillip cutting him off, though he was more interrupted by the rather aggresive gesture of his hand.

"I don't feel like gettin' lectured by you now. Just—" Phillip turned to face the door and twisted the handle, "—tell them I'll be back soon. I'm just goin' for a walk so don't make it sound like a Shakespeare play."

"I will try not to do such a thing, even though I do not understand why you have made such a specific request." Y/N softly sighed with a bow of his head, closing his eyes as his own sign of respect. Even if Phillip were his enemy, he always had such polite manners.

However, Y/N could only feel a slight pit in his stomach as soon as his enemy stepped outside.

————

Phillip Hamilton had been walking along the street, and he found himself burnt with different quivering thoughts. Flames erupting inside of him, crashing waves. His mind was a disaster, and so was his mentality—had his hatred taken over him so?

He pondered what Y/N had done in his past few hours of not having to go out in order to be forced to spend time with his enemy. Painting a picture for whatever reason, playing piano in order to prove himself better than Phillip, stealing his diary. He was such a strange man. Or at least, he was a strange man to Phillip.

Y/N, even though he did not seem aware of this, was incredibly filled with pride—a sense of being confident in his maturity and authority. He thought because he was the son of a founding father, he could be cruel to Phillip as he wished. And in return, Phillip gave him such cruel behaviors. Though he did not quite understand why Y/N could be horrifiyingly specific with his insults sometimes.

Unfortunately, he would have to live with the burden of still seeing him on his bedroom floor when he had awoken the next day. And the next day. And the next day. He hoped that his enemies plan would work, even if he did doubt him. He had always doubted him when it came to stuff he had said.

Phillip had thought of that moment—that moment Y/N had let out a shriek. A shriek of pain perhaps? Agony? Annoyance? The moment he had got kicked out of the library with Phillip, he had let out such an emotional scream, it had made Phillip almost freeze up in sheer shock.

Perhaps, for the first time, Phillip felt a slight tremor of fear—of his enemy. He was scared of him then for a few seconds before Y/N had finally calmed down again. Y/N was always so calm, like an ice queen plunging through a blizzard. And Phillip was like a little devil in a pit of fire, always full of rage and pride.

How could Phillip possibly calm such—

"A—Argh!"

Phillip grunted, as he suddenly felt a hand clasp over his mouth. A strong, muscular hand. A deep chortle of laughter behind him—he had been held tightly by a pair of arms! And—and then—sharp pain erupted onto his body! His stomach, his back, his limbs. He was being—he was being punched, kicked, he was on the ground—defenseless!

He was being physically assaulted!

He tried to crawl away—but oh, he had felt himself being dragged back, his face sliding across the concrete. He looked up, barely seeing the faces of his attackers. They laughed at him, grinned at him so mischievously, like demons working for the devil.

And then—with a raise of one of their foots, everything went black. His face hurt. He was going to die. He was going to die without his family beside him. The last thing he heard was a chuckle of laughter.

————

Phillip Hamilton was alive.

He was on the cushion of his bed, laying down—alive. Conscious. Or he had at least become conscious again. His vision was blurry, he couldn't process a thing for at least five seconds. How long had he been out for? The first thing he did manage to process was a black sky outside of his window.

"Oh, Phillip!" A female voice gasped, he looked—and saw the crying face of his mother. His mother had wrapped her arms around his neck, and Phillip only weakly raised a hand and gently rubbed it on her back.

"Phillip, Phillip, your okay!" His mother gasped, burying her face into his neck. She was relieved—her son was alive! Alive, but injured. Phillip felt himself weakly cough, and he then said in a choked voice; "What happened?.."

"You were assaulted, Phillip! You were attacked. But it's okay now, I've got you—I've got you!" She tried to gently say, looking into his eyes of light blue. Phillip said nothing, and only inhaled and exhaled softly. How had he been saved? He was sure and certain of his death, so why was he alive?

"Who—who saved me?"

Phillip had softly asked that question in an almost whispered tone. His mother raised her head, looking almost confused in her relief and sorrow; "Pardon?"

"Who saved me?.. How—how am I still.. alive?" Phillip asked, his tone soft and gentle, though it was only because his injuries had forced him to tone his voice. It was difficult to talk normally for him right now.

His mother sniffled. "Phillip," she gasped, "your friend.. he saved you."

"My friend?.."

"Y/N. He saved you!"

"Wha—...what?!.."

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