Letters - A Phillip Hamilton X Male Reader

Chapter 64: A Bigger Plan.

"Hamilton—"

Y/N tried to utter Phillips name as they marched foward,yet like a mechanical robot, neither of them could seem to control their movements as they harshly made their way to the area where the two waiters had been. When the two turned a corner, Phillip stopped in his tracks, his fists clenching. Y/N stopped in his tracks as well for a moment, and although he had already anticipated what the sight was going to be, he couldn't help but feel his eyes go wide with a softness of empathy.

The waiter was still sat on the ground, a red and visible hole formed on his cheek. Visibly, he was holding back tears—for men in a place like this could not show tears, they could not show a smile, they could not show anger. Men were expected to be mature, and Y/N himself followed this law society bestowed.

So why did seeing the tears in the waiters eyes, and hearing his sniffling whimpers make Y/Ns heart feel so.. heavy?

Their waiter was on his knees beside the waiter, his arms around the other waiter as he tried to whisper words of comfort to him. The waiters heads then perked up when Phillip, as impulsive as an eager or angry child, yelled: "Shit, where the hell did she go—?!"

"What'd she do that for?!" Phillip added. The whimpering waiter tried to answer, but could not behind his weak sobs. The waiter beside him looked down at him with pity, his eyes softening. Y/N wanted to speak, or intervene, but all words escaped him in a situation like this.

"Gentlemen," The waiter began as he slowly stood up from beside the whimpering waiter whom was collapsed on the ground still, "I think it is best you go back to your table."

Phillip furrowed his brows, his eyes flickering. "But—"

"I'll take care of this, gentlemen." In a more stern voice, the waiter replied again, "Go back to your table."

Silence filled the air, only accompanied by the slightest sounds of the waiters sniffles. Y/N hadn't seen a man react so.. harshly to a slap before. Of course, Mary had no right in slapping him for simply not knowing why the beverage had something that shouldn't have been in it. He wasn't the chef after all. Yet he and Phillip were the ones who put pepper in the drink.

Something within Y/Ns chest built up, and it felt like there was a knot in his throat. Was this what guilt felt like?

Y/N then stepped foward, seeing Phillips clenched fists grow more firm. "Hamilton," he spoke, "I think it is best we return to our table. I am assuming the waiter has supplies available to take care of this."

Phillips head snapped back toward him. His light blue eyes held a sense of firm anger, and sterness as he stared—waves of endless Tsunami's crashing down into eachother into gigantic swirls and wild shades of blue color. Yet, his eyes then softened, and for a split second, the waters in his eyes calmed.

He then cursed under his breath, before spinning on his heel, and storming back toward the table where they sat. Y/N stood, watching as Phillip vanished back into the direction they came. Whatever had made Phillips expression soften in that moment must have not been because of him.

Y/N stared back down at the two waiters. The waiter whispered softly to the whimpering waiter as he reached for something that must have been behind the desk. He stared, observing and unmoving, as if already this whole situation left him paralyzed.

He then slowly turned, and swallowing down any trace of guilt within himself, he marched onward into the direction Phillip went.

————

A full hour had passed by now, or at least that was what it had felt like. The waiter had already brought them their food after helping the whimpering waiter calm down. And the whimpering waiter, as if nothing had happened, resumed his usual duties and walked around the place, ignoring what had just occured. Or pretending it didn't happen.

Neither of them had ordered much, and silence filled the air each time the waiter left. As of now, they were alone—with Phillip picking at the cherry cobbler on his plate with his silver fork. And Y/N only kept his head bowed, staring at the brown broth with vegetables inside he had ordered.

Y/N's eyes darted upwards for a moment. Phillip hadn't said a word, his dark brows furrowed as if he were thinking about what had happened not long ago. His lips were clamped shut, as if he were trying to keep all the writhing rage within him inside of his strong masculine body.

Y/Ns eyes darted downwards again, back to the liquid of the broth in his bowl. In the reflection of the liquid, he saw himself, staring back. A mirror was what it seemed like, almost. He could see his own half-lidded, apathetic expression he always held staring back at him. Yet in his eyes, there swirled a thousand thoughts he couldn't give word to.

He blinked. He felt something upon him, staring. Yet already, he know who it was. And he saw no point in pondering who it could be when the source of the sense he felt was in the very direction in front of him.

Sensing that this must have been his cue to finally speak, Y/N sighed and stated, "..this was another reason why I had not told anyone."

Phillip went silent for a moment. Y/N heard a metallic sound clack against the plate in front of him, presumably having been the fork his enemy was using. "Yeah, no shit.." He responded after a long pause.

Silence filled the air yet again. Phillip then inquired.

"...did she ever hurt you?"

Y/N paused, unable to process Phillips question for a moment.

"It.." He paused again, "..it is of no matter whether or not she has harmed me in the past."

"Fuck you mean it doesn't? Of course it does. If she's been doin' this shit like this too, it does matter!"

"Certainly, it does. But she is in a more powerful position than I am. I am the son of a government leader—she is wealthy and has a father who can easily do damage to my family." Y/N argued back, "Is it better to have your family be harmed, or to be harmed yourself?"

"..neither one of those are better options."

"I am of the opinion that there is a better option. And that is the latter option I had mentioned."

"What do you—"

"No matter.. I.. I assume the last step of your plan is on your mind, since we followed through with the second one already."

"Dont try to change the subject, man—what do you mean the latter option is better?"

Y/N glanced away. "..as I have stated, it is of no matter. And we need not any further discussion of it."

"Why not?"

"Well, why should we? It isn't as if you actually care for me or anything."

"'Course not, but—"

"Shh." Y/N shushed. Phillip clicked his tongue again.

Phillip then grumbled, "..y'know what, I don't care if we're found out. That witch needs more than what I was plannin'."

"You.. do not care?" Y/Ns tone began to tremble, "Have you developed Amnesia within the past hour? Mary's father threatened to do harm to my family had I spoken ill of her again. Who's to say she won't do the same for you?"

"Who's to say ya just can't expose 'em for who he is? I don't care what that bastards gonna pull. If he's gonna hurt my family, he's gotta go through me first!"

Y/N blinked. And then let out a sigh. "You.. are perhaps right, Hamilton. But what about mine?"

"He ain't gonna hurt yours either. An old man like him doesn't scare me. My pops and I can easily take 'em down! My pops is more well known than yours anyway, the public'll be on his side if word gets out."

"Hamilton.."

"I mean, hey, he is more known around the city.."

Y/N stared down at the table for a moment, before glancing upward, gazing into Phillip's eyes of ocean-blue. "Well, if you plan on doing worse than what you had originally, what exact plan would be worser than the one you came up with?"

Phillip smirked. Y/N instinctively felt a bead of sweat trickle dow his forehead as Phillip then said in a smooth and playful tone, "Well, why don't I just tell you?"

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