Letters - A Phillip Hamilton X Male Reader

Chapter 32: Memories.

"Here, your breakfast."

Y/N had spoke those words gently, setting a plate of pancakes and buttered eggs upon Phillips desk that had been sitting directly next to the table. Phillip Hamilton gazed upon the thing that had been freshly crafted from human hands, as if he were searching for any sort of flaw he could point out. Though the yellow material of the eggs shone brightly, with the butter that had been dripping off of it.

"Aww, for me? I'm flattered~" Phillip would croak out, his voice still sounding slightly broken from the injuries he had been dealt, though his remark only made Y/N furrow his eyebrows in what looked to be possible disgust. "Do not get yourself so euphoric, or shall I have to remind you of what I have been forced into?"

"No need to remind me," Phillip smirked as he slightly leaned back upon the cushion of his bed, "I know you don't wanna do this. I don't wanna do this either, but that look on your face right now is makin' me have a good time."

Y/N still held his hand behind his back, and his repulsed look did not change as he took a few steps towards the chair next to the bed that belonged to the one and only Phillip Hamilton. "If you do not want to do this, then what is the point of even speaking to me?"

"I don't see why I cant." Phillip shrugged with an amused expression, "If there's no one else to talk to, why should I not talk to you? I like seein' that red face of yours when you get all angry at me."

Y/N left his arms crossed, as he forced himself into the wooden chair that had been so stiff next to Phillips bed, he crossed a leg over his other leg, and only sighed as if he were frustrated. Frustration—lingering so longingly in his face, forced him to say; "Of course, what other purpose would you have other than to be a nuisance?"

"There we go," Phillip breathed, "the first 'purpose' of the day, folks."

Y/N only ignored this remark, and found his eyes drawing to the still-bandaged wrist. He could distantly recall Phillips damaged state, him being unconscious. He hadn't told anyone this, but he nearly panicked—the thought of him not being able to save another man's life plagued him so. But the thought of not being able to save his family plagued him even more.

"May I see your wrist for a moment?" Y/N had inquired, as Phillip Hamilton placed his own plate of breakfast upon his bed. Phillip raised a brow, and only turned his head to look back at the man whom had made such a puzzling request. "Why?"

"I would like to observe the injuries once more, and if your mother had wrapped it tightly enough. Have I not made myself clear? I am supposed to be caring for you, you know." Y/N grumbled, and Phillip only rolled his eyes in response. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean you actually care about me."

"And if they found out I hadn't cared for an injured man, who knows what that would do to my father's reputation?" Y/N tilted his head slightly as he continued to look into the freckled man's light blue eyes of deep oceans, slightly roaring and submerging over one another, as if he were a hurricane.

"I dunno, I don't really care for your pops' reputation—besides," Phillip then smirked again, a tinge of amusement on his face as he continued to speak; "I get the feeling you care more about your own reputation, baby. After all, someone who doesn't show emotions must not actually care for his family, right?"

Y/N's eyes were laced with hatred and spite for a moment, venom piercing in his pupils. "Your intuition has failed you, darling, of course I care for my family. Now let me see your wrist before you consume your food."

Phillip sighed, "Fine." Satisfication ran through Y/Ns veins, finally, his enemy had actually listened to one of his requests. Phillip extended his hand, and Y/N clenched his hands around Phillips bandaged wrist, and observed the way it had been bandaged with utmost carefulness.

"Your mother is quite skilled with bandaging. I take it she has done this before?" Y/N questioned, looking up from the white bandage that had almost resembled a cotton candy treat, soft yet firm in its material.

"I mean, anyone can bandage—" Phillip shrugged with an almost confused look on his face, "—does everything have to be a skill to you?"

"Of course not, does everything I have to say have to be misinterpreted by you?" Y/N inquired, keeping his eye on the bandage as he still observed, slightly rubbing his thumb across the soft material. It was rather nice to take a feel of, he hoped whatever material it had been made from would also be made into a blanket someday, maybe it would help him rest a little better.

"Respectfully," Phillip mocked in a voice that almost sounded like stereotypical-royalty, "I will deny that question."

"Mocking me, how endearing." Y/N said with a roll of his eyes, and slightly twisted Phillips hand so he could take a better look at the bandage he carefully kept his fingers on. "What can I say?" Phillip smirked with a slight rising of his shoulders, "I'm just that charming~"

Y/N could recall the memory of that dark evening, the dark evening he had followed his enemy into the shadows. As he remembered carefully walking behind him, he remembered witnessing the sudden appearance of the attackers, they were both rough and strong in their exterior—but in their interior, they had not been. Because they were cowards. Because even with all that muscle, deep down, they were weak.

He recalled their faces, the faces of sheer shock once he had began to run up at them, and the choking sounds of one of the attackers once he had latched his hands on his throat. He truthfully had done more than that, though he figured Phillip would tease him if he told him what else he did for the sake of his own enemies safety.

Hitting them repeatedly, shoving them, grabbing their head and threatening to bang it against the concrete—nearly almost breaking one of the attackers arm. It was enough to make them flee, after all, for someone so strange, he had been quite intimidating. Maybe this is why people didn't talk to him that often(other than John of course), because this is what he did for the sake of saving another human being.

And, ah, yes; he recalled picking Phillip up bridal-style, resisting the urge to sink down to the floor in anguish at his own injuries. Phillips unconscious face, Phillips shallow breathing, Y/N struggling to carry the injured man home. He had hoped no one had seen such a sight; alas, he would be mocked.

"Are you just gonna keep starin' at my wrist, or?.."

Y/N froze up for a few moments, a few split seconds lost in time, and then he sighed.

"No, I have finished my observation. Your mother has done it nicely; now let me see your other bandages."

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