Letters - A Phillip Hamilton X Male Reader

78: Something I Wanna Do.

As Y/N grabbed a nearby napkin, he began to rub the fabric against the dark brown liquid that spilt down the surface of the counter and even nearly onto the floor. Phillip cocked his head to the side, watching with an arched brow.

As he stared, he couldn't help but ponder. A thought slipped from his mind into words as he spoke. "..what are you doin' in here?"

"..I decided to go get some tea. I figured that would be obvious."

"Well, no, it's not.."

"..even though I'm holding a cup of tea right now?"

"..mmh."

Y/N rubbed at the trickle of tea that had slipped down the counter, and after finally managing to rub it all away, he gave a sigh-walking over to the nearest trash can and shoving the napkin inside. Beneath his eyes of E/C were dark, dark circles-it looked almost like his entire face was covered in shadow. But even that was an understatement. He seemed unbelievably pale-like he had seen a ghost or something.

"..the hells up with you?" Asked Phillip.

"I don't believe anything is up with me."

"Yeah.. sure. Like that makes any fuckin' sense."

Y/N didn't respond to that. Instead, he lifted his cup with a sigh, and took a sip. He began to slowly turn around, walking to the exit that led into the hallway, and into the living room. Phillip felt his eyes trail after him. This was.. kinda weird. He didn't know why it felt weird, but it did.

He looked at the tea kettle. Well, if.. he was up this early, he might as well grab himself something to drink before breakfast comes. Then again-he didn't know how his mother would react to him being up so early in the morning, and even to him just idly drinking tea instead of having an actual meal.

He groaned. It.. didn't really matter to him in the moment. He was too exhausted from just having woken up to really think about that.

With a few steps, he walked over to the counter, filled with the new determination to pour himself some tea.

----

Phillip let some of the liquid seep into his mouth as he tilted it, walking over to the entrance that led into the living room. His muscles felt like they were aching every moment, his eyes felt heavy, and the more he walked, the more prolonged the morning state of relaxation washed over him. Or at least, the more it seemed to fade away into an odd state that he couldn't describe.

He turned around. But as he walked in, he found himself lowering the cup with a sigh. And then raising a brow. In the corner, he saw a figure.. no, Y/N-sitting upon a wooden chair while leaning foward. He had his back turned, his palms pressed tiredly against both of his cheeks. And before him was.. a canvas. How come Phillip didn't see that canvas when he looked inside earlier? Then again, he was exhausted out of his mind, so.. not noticing changes in details was plausible.

Yet, it was such a large canvas that Phillip was unsure of how he didn't even notice. And on the canvas was a painting. A painting that looked somewhat unfinished, but he could still make the details out of it. There were long strands of yellow, golden grass. A pink sky with somewhat blue and purplish hues. Standing in the middle was a figure with long hair, a green dress. A woman. But.. her face wasn't visible. It was blank actually. He only guessed Y/N didn't finish that part of it yet.

He slowly began to walk over, tilting his head to the side. "..what's that?"

"..its a painting." Y/N answered. "Is it that hard to tell what it is?"

"No, jackass. Of course not." Phillip replied, sipping his tea. A slight realization then dawned on him though the more the tea went down his throat. He had seen Y/N paint before, and Y/N had stayed up before to-