Jamilton Oneshots // Hamilton ✔️

Wrong Number [JAMILTON]

every time i forget something in class, i always have to run (sprint actually lmao my daily work out) back to school and this one kid is always behind me and ALWAYS asks 'what'd you forgot.' usually, i answer him w/ normal things but this time i wanna slip in a rent reference like 'got a light'

he'll probably be worried that i forgot my lighter in class but-

~~~

"Here's my number." The guy says to me, obviously drunk. I nod, placing the paper in my pocket. I didn't ask for his number, but I have tons of numbers from being the bartender at probably the most popular bar in the downtown part of New York.

"Thanks." I mumble to him, wiping out the surface in front of him. He spilled wine over the counter. As I'm wiping it off, he forces my chin up. His fingers are fat and grimy, but it is always best to not fight against a costumer.

We're staring at each other for me. His breath smells like alcohol.

After a few more cruel, long minutes, he lets me go. I stumble back, but not before he slaps me across the face and walks away. I hold my face. He probably left my cheek red. Lately, the customers have been getting more aggressive though. I don't really mind, no one would notice anyway.

"Alex. Come on, work," Maria tugs on my sleeve. I come back to my senses, looking at my coworker. She notices my look of hurt, "You okay? I hope he didn't hurt you too badly."

I smile at her warmly. Maria has always been nice to me, although I know deep down something is going on with her. A person can only be so kind. I know she has problems, probably at her house, but I don't say anything. I respect her privacy.

"I'm fine."

She smiles back, going back to work.

~~~

I go home, my face aching along with my feet. Upon arriving, I'm hit with the disgusting smell of wine. I know Charles isn't home, but I don't make any sound at all. Instead, I fall asleep on the floor next to the door, holding my face.

I'm awoken a few hours later by someone kicking my face.

"Wake up, whore,"  Charles mutters to me until he sees my eyes flutter open, "Get up, let me see your face."

I stand. I'm smaller than him, by a lot. He stares at my eyes, keeping eye contact with me until I break with a sob. He examines my red face, which only got redder from my stupid, ugly, useless sobbing.

"Why do you let people touch you?" He asks me softly, as if I'm his friend person suddenly, "You know you're mine, but you let those drunk men touch you. That reinforces my thoughts on you. You're just a whore, right?"

I don't answer.

"Rigt?" Charles' voice raises.

"Right." I whisper.

He slaps me in the face several times until he's satisfied, pointing to our bedroom door, "Go in there. No dinner, don't come out until tomorrow morning. I will sleep in the living room. Stupid whore."

I'm not that bothered about any of the "punishments" Charles gives to me. I don't have a huge appetite and it's not exactly a huge happy party when we sleep together. He usually steals the blankets from me.

Still, i have to act like it bothers me. 

I hear him lock the door from the outside. I pull out my phone, which is old. But it works. I''m actually curious, so I take the paper from my bartender outfit. It had that man's phone number on it. Usually, they give me wrong numbers because they were so drunk.

I send a text to the number, explaining who I am and who that man was, or who he said he was. I explain the hitting part too, because if it is the man, he'd hopefully apologize. I doubt it's him though.

My phone dings a few minutes later.

'I'm not this man you speak of. I didn't drink last night, I remember all of my night. As for the hitting story, are you okay? Are you okay right now? Do you need help?'

I want to answer him. 

I dont really speak to normal people, who don't get drunk every night, often. I mean, Charles doesn't get drunk every night, but he's my boyfriend. He's not just a normal person to me. He says we're soulmates and were met to be together. He says nothing can tear us apart and he's the only one who loves me.

I love him back.

Yes, hi. Oh. Who are you? I'm fine.

I silent cringe at myself, because I'm so awkward. He answers me back fast, though.

I'm Thomas (: Who are you?

Alexander.

I lay on my bed after that, waiting for Thomas to answer.

He does. My phone dings with a text message and vibrates on the bed. I pick it up quickly, excited. I'm about the read and answer the text when someone snatches the phone from my hands.

"Ha! My little whore wanted some more attention, is that what I see here?" Charles asks gently. I know he's not gentle at all, he's teasing me. Of course.

I whimper.

"No."

"Well, I don't like it when my little whore lies to me. Strip, now. You won't be getting this phone back for a while, you got that?"

I nod sickly, beginning to take off my outfit. Charles hungrily licks his lip like an uncontrollable horny teenager.

"Good boy."

He punishes me. And sleeps with me. I think he made me bleed as well, but I wasn't in the mood to check. It wouldn't matter, Charles would continue to do whatever he wanted to do to me, whenever he wanted.

He kept his promise, he never gave me my phone back.

I never heard from Thomas.

Ever.

Again.

~~~

i want to get this to 1k words so i'm writing this