Letters - A Phillip Hamilton X Male Reader

83: Mothers On The Bed.

TWS FOR // FLASHBACKS, TRAUMA, SELF-DEPRECATION TOWARD THE END. (I tried my best to get the feeling of a flashback right, as it was sort of integral to Y/Ns character in this book for it to happen. If you happen to have flashbacks of your own, and if there is something I got wrong about them, feel free to tell me. I apologize if this portrayal makes you feel hurt or disrespected. /gen)

Y/N hadn't known why he was feeling like this. Or why this feeling in his chest was so intense. Why his skin began to feel numb. Why his hands were trembling as he practically scrambled for the little bottle of medicine inside of the cabinet above the counter. Why thoughts endlessly swirled in his mind. Why it felt like a warm flush of sweat was beginning to overcome him.

He swallowed down, furrowing his brows as his eyes darted around the cabinet he had practically swung open. There were several bottles inside, with various names of different medicines printed on it. There was a chance they'd have to use a mustard plaster if none of the medicines inside worked. Or..

..they'd have to resort to bloodletting.

The idea began to fill him with an even more intense feeling in his chest. The very thought made a sharp gasp escape his mouth. He saw his own eyes staring back at him in the reflection of the glass. His mouth was completely agape. Perhaps the next time he looked into the eyes of Phillip's mother, they'd be blank, and lifeless.

He shook his head, stopping himself from practically screaming out of anxiety. He had experienced feelings of high anxiety before. Usually most commonly anytime his father or his sister became sick with something. It hadn't really ever been this intense though. His hands were trembling.

What if she died? What would happen if it was the same illness rather than just a mere cold? What if he got it? What if Phillip got it? What if everyone else—no, no, no!

"Y/N?"

He flinched. Immediately, he snapped his head in the direction of the sudden voice. Violet-blue eyes stared back at him with such.. worry. Of course—it was only Alexander, his lips slightly parted.

Y/Ns chest still wildly thumped as he exhaled and inhaled at a rather rapid pace. He was trying to keep his breathing under control. He really was. He usually was able to whenever he was caught in a panic, but right now, he just—he just couldn't.

It took him a long time to realize he hadn't said anything, just staring at Alexander in the midst of the silence.

"..are.. are you alright, young man?"

"Yes." Y/N forced out of his mouth. "Yes—I'm.." He clutched the side of his head, as if forcing himself to look up. "I'm fine."

"Are—you.. are you sure? You don't seem like it."

Y/N tried to respond again. "Yes! If you could just listen to me, I—"

He stopped himself before he could finish whatever snarky comment he was about to make in the moment. He saw Alexander just stare. And then the man's eyes slowly widened, as if he had realized something Y/N hadn't.

"..Y/N," He carefully said, "Are you thinking about something else right now?"

"..wh—what.. what do you.." Y/N gasped, feeling his throat become dry.

Alexander didn't say a word—just staring still. He then slowly lifted his hands as if afraid to frighten him even more. "Okay.. Y/N, I need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?" His voice noticeably softened as he took a slow step foward.

Y/N wasn't sure what the man was doing. He gasped out shakily, "N—No.. no.. I.." He tried to turn around, but felt his body become stiff as he leaned against the counter.