One shots? {Jamilton}

Temporary {Jamilton} |Part 2|

warning this is literal trash

animaitc by mushie r.
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~Magenta giant POV~

I groan as my obnoxious alarm goes off, markingg the beginning of my day. I could already feel the effects of waking up at 4 am. I could barely open my eyes and it left like i didnt get enough sleep. Which I didnt.

When I finally was able to open my eyes, I noticed that Hamilton was already awake. He was sitting cross legged on his mattress, a book in his lap.

I stopped the alarm and turned to Hamilton, muttering "How long have you been up?"

He shrugged, eyes still trained on the page, and said, "Maybe an hour? an hour and a half?"

I groaned and threw the blanket off of me for the second time this morning. I toed my way around the air mattress, grumbling in disapproval of its location and made my way to the door.

As I opened it and made my way into the hallway, I heard a pattering of footsteps behind me and then the words, "Where are we going?"

"Breakfast," I grunted, not wanting to talk to Hamilton so early in the morning.

As we walked down the stairs, an amazing scent filled our noses. Waffles.

"Good morning Thomas. Good morning Alexander," my mom greeted as we walked like zombies into the kitchen.

"Mornin'" I mumble, sleep still laced into my voice.

"G'mornin, Mrs. Jefferson," Hamilton says from behind me in an alert and humble tone. "Anything I can help you with?" he continues and a roll my eyes at his offer. He was probably just trying to make a good impression on my parents for the first day.

"Nope, everything is fine Alex. You two can just sit down at the table so I can give you your breakfast," my mom says.

Wordlessly, I sit down and watch as Hamilton sits down slowly, as if he was u sure if this was what he was supposed to be doing. He was fidgeting with his fingers, signalling that he was nervous. I just didnt know what he was nervous about.

From this view, I could look over him properly for the first time this morning. The bags underneath his eyes seemed a little darker from last night and his hair was a conplete mess. He was a nervous wreck.

He looked completey different that his typicla cocky and confident self in school.

His eyes darted back and forth around the kutchen as if he was searchibg for soemthing specific. His eyes fell on me and I shot hims a scowl, trying to bring the Hamilton I knew back. Instead, I received a frown and silence.

Suddenly, the sound of plates on the table shook my from my thoughts. Now in front of me was a plate of fluffy waffles.

We both mumbled a soft "thank you" before digging in. Not even 5 minutes later, Alex put his fork down and turned to mom.

"I think I'm full," He said, his voice barely over a whisper. "Thank you. May I be excused?"

"Of course," my mother said, with a concerned expression.

He stood and dashed out of the kitchen, leaving me confused. I gave a small scowl as I shoved another forkfull of waffles into my mouth. He probably just didnt like the waffles. The Ungrateful Brat.

"Hey dont be like that," my mother scolded, and folded her arms. I looked up at her as she looked at me with her 'I'm not mad, just dissapointed' face.

"Like what?" I said, trying to cover up the scowl from before but it was too late. She frowned and sat in the chair that Hamilton filled only a few seconds ago.

She put her elbows on the table and leaned close and whispered, "He's here because he has no where else to go. I know you dont like this but dont take it out on him. At least he's here and not where he used to live," she paused, thinking if what else to say. I let my mom's words sink in. What could be so bad about where he used to live?

"Its only temporary. Now go and get ready for school," my mom said, standing.

I stood up and trudged up the stairs, thoughts swirling. After my father's and mother's lectures, I still felt resent at Hamilton for having to stay with my family. Maybe I was being all bitchy about it but I didnt care.

I put my hand on my doorknob and twisted it, letting myself into my room. As I walked in, I was stopped by the sight of Hamilton, pulling a shirt over himself, hus back to me.

I felt my heart stop as I caught a glimpse of red and white lines streaked all over his back. Some were scabbed over, proving that they were recent, still healing. Others were pale, which meant that they were old. Enough time had passed that they had healed completely, the scars molding into his skin to look like they had always been there.

But those werent natural. Hamilton couldnt have been born with those scars. Something or someone had to have inflicted pain on him in order to put those lines there.

Thomas could only imagine how.

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ew ew this is literal trash im sorry

ugh this is badly written and its late af and heifksmndjskfofjdj

why do y'all read this

~❤️