Letters - A Phillip Hamilton X Male Reader

86: Warmth.

After that conversation, dinner had commenced.

Yet even as it commenced, even as Alexander stood within the doorframe with Phillip now absent, Y/N was still looked upon with such.. pity by this violet eyed man. Who looked upon him like he wasn't immature or strange for letting his emotions get the better of him.

Alexander had inquired, tilting his head to the side, "Would you like to stay in here for dinner? You may need some more time to yourself after all of.. well, you know.. what happened today."

In response, Y/N had gone quiet, just looking at the man. The idea of going into the kitchen sounded at least a little more polite than locking himself away in Phillip's room to eat. He at least wanted to have some proper manners despite everything that had occurred. On the other hand though, there was a part of him that oddly wanted to stay in the bedroom in isolation by himself.

...

He couldn't. He had a reputation to uphold, and even in this situation, his emotions held no matter. They never mattered. It really.. really didn't matter.

So, he had settled on going into the kitchen.

————

His mind swirled still. Slowly, like a river filled with endless thoughts as his head just remained bowed at the table. Eliza had been eating in her bedroom with Phillip assisting her. And alone for once, Y/N sat in the chair he had gotten used to sitting in ever since he was forced into this place due to the circumstances they were in.

..he loved his father, truly. But was this plan of his actually working?

Y/N knew it wasn't. Phillip hadn't changed slightly even after he had shown up. Sure, he had been nice. Sure, he had been somewhat kind to him. But—that didn't exactly mean that the bastard was genuine. It didn't mean he cared about him. It didn't mean he wanted to help him. Trying to comfort him didn't mean that he had cared. That he wanted to help. That he wanted to be his friends.

He knew it didn't. He knew Phillip didn't care about him. He knew his emotions most likely didn't matter to this man. It was probably a mistake to even think it was genuine. Still, there was a part of him that wanted to believe it was. And he didn't know why.

..was Phillip really that bad?

...

He really had been staying in this place for too long.

He resisted the urge to let out a sigh. The image of.. her from the dream he had earlier came into his mind. The image of what he had done for Phillip because of what Mary had said to him came into his mind. The image of telling Phillip he didn't hate him as much as he said he did.

What was this place doing to him? He was supposed to be—

"..Y/N? Are you alright?"

He was snapped out of his haze, and quickly, he had lifted his head at the sound of Alexander's voice. The bright eyes of Phillip's siblings stared at him, along with Alexander's own worried gaze of violet-blue.

Y/N blinked for a moment, the slightly humid wooden air of the dining room enveloping him. He looked away, a slight flush of embarrassment quickly washing over his face. Was Alexander saying something while he was too busy in his own thoughts?

"Yes." He uttered. "Yes. I'm fine. Apologies."

"Did you hear what I asked you?"

"..no. What—what did you ask me?"

Alexander looked at him for a moment, just staring. Something within the gaze of his skies of violet-blue softened, and his gaze shifted off to the side.