Alexander Hamilton-Laurens didn't like to think about the past. His past had been full of loss, but now he had everything he could desire in life; a steady job, a husband who he loved dearly, and three wonderful children.
He was thinking of his children when the phone at his office rung. Alexander sighed, picked up the phone, and what the person on the other end sent his head under water.
As Alexander fled the office, everything around him had become foggy. He didn't remember getting into the car or driving to the hospital. He didn't remember yelling at the receptionist to bring him to his son, or the route through the hospital that brought him there. What he did remember was the sight of Philip, his son, lying in a hospital bed, pale and dying.
Alexander shakily brought his phone to his ear, and prayed that his husband would pick up.
"John, come to the hospital. Philip's been shot."
----
John Hamilton-Laurens was having an excellent day. That was until, his husband called him from the hospital. The next thing he knew, the scent of the hospital unfolded around him, and the loudest thing in the room was the sound of his heartbeat.
John clutched his son's hand, thumb running over the boy's knuckles as Philip choked out words, apologizes that his parents hushed. Philips hair was damp with sweat, his eyes wild, and John wished the doctor in the corner would leave.
Philip's breaths were becoming shallower, his movements more wild. John blinked back tears, trying to calm his son.
"Hey, count with me," John soothed, bringing back memories of when Philip was little and he taught him piano.
"Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six" The two spoke together, John's voice steady and Philip's fading with every word.
"Sept, huit, neuf..." And then John's words echoed through the room, Philip completely silent.
----
Frances Hamilton-Laurens only knew happiness. She was the youngest sibling of three, and was always close to family. Her Papa braided her hair and her Dad sung, her older sister gave her friendship bracelets, her big brother made the best pancakes.
When she was three, Grandfather came for Christmas. Before then, Frances hadn't even known she had a grandfather. Papa and Daddy never spoke of him, and when he turned up, the fear in her Dad's eyes had been evident. Later that night, Frances saw her Dad cry. The little girl also cried, but only because Daddy was sad. Her fathers had explained that Grandfather was a bad man, and he never came to their house again.
Now Frances was thirteen, and she stood on the white tiled floor of the hospital. She and Angie had been brought from school, but they didn't know why until Papa spoke, voice choked, and suddenly the world was whirling around her so fast that she was sure she couldn't stand. Angie's friendship bracelet hung around her skinny wrists, and she clinged to her older sister's hand. Papa was crying, and so was Dad, and Angie's face was frozen as the sisters processed what they had been told.
"I don't believe you." Frances spoke first, clutching Angie's hand tighter. The older girl pulled her into her arms, stroking her dark hair.
"I DON'T BELIEVE YOU!" Frances pulled away, and pushed through her fathers into the room behind them.
Inside was her older brother, lying very, very still.
----
Angelica Hamilton-Laurens was possibly smarter than her Papa and her namesake combined, a girl of sixteen with wit sharper than steel and a tounge quicker than lightning. She wasn't sensitive and hot-headed like her sister, she wasn't arrogant and quick-tempered like her brother. Angie always had the right thing to say. She was calm when she told her Dad she was dating the daughter of her Papa's enemy, she was collected when her sister cried about her mean classmates.
This was the first time she had ever been speechless.
Philip was dead. His eyes glassy, hands still, breath frozen in his chest. Frances was sobbing, squeezing Angie's hand so tight she was worried it would fall off. Papa and Dad clung to each other, tears drenching their faces. Angie responded, hugging her younger sister, telling her fathers it was going to be okay. She was too young to do this, and old enough to know that it wasn't going to be okay, but Angie moved around the room comforting people, because that was what she did best.
It wasn't until later that it registered in her that Philip was gone. That there would be no more baking competitions (Philip always won) or secret handshakes. That the bullet severed those ties between them, and Angie would never see her brother smile again.
Hot tears slid down Angie's face once she was in the safety of her room, alone, and she screamed into the pillow before flinging it across the room.
She didn't sleep that night.
-----
Theodosia Burr knew she was a goner the moment she saw Philip. His curly hair and bright eyes wove their way into her heart and stayed there. His lips tasted like peppermint and his hands felt just right when they encased hers.
They met when they were little, and were friends until they were something more, and the past summer the two had seen the sunset side by side more times than Theodosia could count. She knew that young love almost never lasts, but Theodosia didn't care, she didn't care.
To: Phil <3
From: theo
hey I've been waiting at the cafe when r u gonna be here?
To: Phil <3
From: theo
Srsly hurry up its almost 5
To: Phil <3
From: theo
R u ok?
Philip hadn't answered his phone, so when he was an hour late to their date Theodosia called his sister. Angie picked up the phone.
"Hi Angelica, I'm sorry to bother you, but your brother was supposed to meet me an hour ago and I want to make sure everything's alright" Theodosia said softly, in the polite voice she used with everyone.
"Theo?" Angie sounded hesitant
"Yes?"
"He's dead" Angie's voice broke.
And that was the moment Theodosia's heart tore in two.
YOU ARE READING
The Unimaginable
FanfictionThe death of Phillip Hamilton in modern times and the five people it affected most' his fathers, sisters, and girlfriend. Yes, I am completely aware this is not how hospitals work.
