Hamilton One Shots

Sympathy

Requested by: Hetalia_Atlantis
OC: Anya Yves

"And just where do you think you're going?"

Too late. The woman's attempt at an escape was weak, she hadn't been able to leave his grasp for even a second. Keeping her stance firm, trying to shake away the voices in her head, the woman turned to the person.

No words emerged from her mouth, as it went dry at the sight of them. Thomas. With his grimace of a smile, eyes boring into her heart, he repeated the question again.

She blinked a few times, feeling dizzy. Answer him, her brain chanted. Overwhelmed with emotions and worry, her lips moved but didn't say anything in return.

Thomas, utterly fed up, grabbed her shoulders and shouted, "Answer me!" She whimpered and held her arms at her sides, ignoring the need to fight back. If she threw a punch back at him, it would be the end of everything she ever knew between them.

"I-I was just going to-"

His heavy breathing startled her as she tried to think of another solution. "I-don't know." She certainly knew where she was going. But her heart warned her not to speak.

Smirking down at her, Thomas said, "That's right." There was slight hesitation from him as he gripped her arm and tried to force her to walk down the hallway. The woman's feet stayed firmly planted on the ground, as she refused to be tortured by his actions.

"Anya."

Ah, so now he addresses me. She swallowed hard, gulping down the fear that had been building up in her throat. Thomas had a way of manipulating her, a way of making her stay when she wanted to run so far away.

Anya flinched as he pressed his palm harder onto her arm. There was a long moment of silence before she murmured, "Let go of me."

He seemed to realize that he had been practically strangling her, so he nodded slightly before letting go. But that didn't mean he wouldn't leave her side as she walked into the living room.

She picked up the edges of her dress and sat comfortably on the couch before meeting eyes with Thomas. He crossed his arms, but didn't speak. She would never understand why he felt the need to intimidate her and keep watch at all times. Was he scared of what she could do?

If he hadn't been standing there, Anya would have taken a leap for the window. That is, if her nervousness and anxiety hadn't already locked her into a state of mind where she couldn't do such a thing. Her body felt weak as she thought of the possibilities.

Thomas sat down next to her, leaning a little closer. Uncomfortable, Anya shifted away and picked up her knitting materials. It often calmed her to knit, let her mind venture away from the horrors of reality.

Usually her body would let go of all the stress and terrible thoughts, but it didn't. She could sense Thomas watching her like a hawk and her stomach flipped at the feeling.

"May I have some time alone or is that too much to ask of you?" She set down the half made scarf. Pulse rising, Anya lost all self control as she faced him. One thing was for sure, no matter how many cruel remarks came from within her, she was still scared of him.

The couch springs squeaked as her partner leaned back. "Oh, I'm sorry, I wasn't aware that this was considered intruding." His smirk grew at his own response and she grimaced.

"All you do to me is considered intruding. You took away my life, everything I knew. Ripped me of my possessions and any future I could possibly have!" Anya threw the scarf on the ground and felt herself tearing up.

Thomas was just a blur through her eyes. He stood up and tried to touch her shoulder, but she flinched away. "Stop!"

Even though she tried to remember what he was capable of, her mouth got the best of her as always. She stumbled backwards, running into a chair and almost knocking over a lamp.

He lunged forward and grabbed her firmly by her waist. The touch was the worst type of punishment one could ask for. Cold and unwilling, his fingers traced up and down her sides.

"Hush." His lips barely brushed her ear as he whispered the single word. Anya shuddered and tried to move back again, but he had her in his control.

She could already feel the affects of her anxiety kicking in, her blood ran cold, brain said pointless things. There was no escaping any of it. No matter how many times she convinced herself she'd escape all her worst nightmares, she could seem to leave the one in front of her.

Anya did everything for him. When Thomas would come home late at night, she listened to his arguments about the day he had. She cared for him when he was sick. And even when he abused her, she still managed to look up to him.

This was the life she was forced into. She had to accept it, even if it broke her. The man in front of her certainly wasn't the one she loved, but she still felt it was her duty to listen and care for him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured instinctively, burying her head into his chest. At that moment she really didn't care if he yelled at her for feeling some sort of affection. All she wanted was some respect and the feeling that she mattered.

Thomas held his breath as she wept against him. Slowly, he wrapped one arm around her, stiffly, but kindly. His hand brushed over her back, over the scars he had created.

"Come now, let's not be silly." He tried to calm her down, but the woman just kept sobbing for no reason that he could see.

Anya collapsed at his knees, still crying. Their hands linked together, and he didn't even let go when she crouched in front of him.

"P-please, I'm sorry!" Why are you apologizing? It was a constant battle between her brain and emotions, and she felt herself slipping away. She couldn't throw away this, even it wasn't what she wanted.

Thomas held her hands tightly. "I accept your apology." He didn't know what else to say, the forceful tone had seemed to vanish. Anya kept weeping at his feet, thankful for his forgiveness.

He pulled her up to his face and wiped away the tears that were now etched into her beautiful features. It could have been regret or sympathy he felt, but he certainly felt something. Yet again, he reminded himself not to feel anything for Anya.

And honestly, Thomas didn't know what sympathy felt like anymore. He didn't know what anything felt like, except anger that he forced onto her. You're not feeling sorry for her, he told himself. But the more he thought it, the more it seemed like such a lie.

. . . . . . . . . .
A/N: Thank you Hetalia_Atlantis for the request! I really loved the idea of this and hopefully it turned out well to your liking! And as always, just thank you guys for the wonderful feedback of these one shots, it means so much to me.