Letters - A Phillip Hamilton X Male Reader

Chapter 39: Red-Faced Anger.

Morning had once tinted the great lands of America again, brightening each and every room of each and every house with great heavenly light. White poured down into Phillip Hamiltons room, causing him to barely squint his eyes, and slightly struggle to pierce them open. He had gotten a rather good sleep that night, strangely enough, he didn't awaken to see Y/N painting this time. Though he did immediately find his sworn enemy doing something.

His enemy had been reading the same book that he had been reading from last night, scanning his eyes across the lines of writing, taking in all of the information his brain would process at once. He flipped a page, seemingly caught in his book like a prisoner. "Are you awake?" His enemy had randomly spoken up, causing Phillip to flinch.

"Yeah.. why the hell else would I be starin' at you?" Phillip asked, his voice raspy and exhausted from the chains of slumber that had binded him for such nightly hours. He had felt almost trapped and imprisoned by the comfortable sheets and cushions of his own bed, he didn't long to even leave it.

Y/N did not answer the question, and only slightly turned his head to face the eyes of his enemy; "Your family will remain here for the rest of the day, so I am not required to care for you. But, we still have to plan for how I am going to leave this place sooner than they have planned—so I apologize, but I will be remaining inside of here for the rest of the day."

"'Course.. why wouldn't you be?" Phillip rolled his eyes, laying on his own stomach, continuing to stare at the man whom he despised so. For a moment, he could have sworn he had seen his enemies lips tremble, perhaps he had gotten to him after all. Y/N would then sharply close his book, and place it beside his makeshift bed.

"I shall let them know that you are awake." He said, slightly lifting himself up from his bed, and using his feet to support him so he could stand properly. Phillip had opened his mouth to say something, and yet, he couldn't find the words as his enemy had exited the room.

Phillip had wondered—when Y/N lips trembled for that split moment, why did he feel a deep pit inside of his chest?

————

Y/N had brought the breakfast that Eliza had prepared for them both. It was a rather simple breakfast—being coffee and eggs, perfectly buttered and golden in each and every way. Phillip had dug in immediately, his mother was most skilled at cooking, and he adored what she had made each and every time. Y/N seemed to be thoroughly enjoying it as well, only he seemed to be ignoring his coffee and barely ever taking a bite of his breakfast.

"You gonna eat that or not?" Phillip had asked, barely looking up from his plate of breakfast. A slight golden piece of his eggs had hung off from the corner of his mouth for a moment, before falling off completely and landing upon his hand.

"...I may not, but if you further intend on consuming the large amount of food a whale eats, then you may have it." Y/N had answered, slightly pushing the plate of food away from himself. Phillip shot a glare at him, looking almost offended. Why wasn't his enemy taking the best thing on earth? His mother's food, it—it was his mothers food! How could anyone not like his mother's food?!

"You seriously not gonna eat that?!"

"If you are not deaf, then yes, that is what I said. Your mother's cooking is not of my taste, and none of what your family does matters to me. Your family is of no matter to me, so why should I even bother taking something that your mother made?"

"..."

Y/N had looked up, and left his arms crossed. "May I see your wrist? I must check if your injuries have healed since the attack that you went through."

"...sure."

Y/N arched a brow, that was an unusual response for his enemy. Usually he would bother to make a retort towards him, or would insist on him not touching him. Though Y/N only sighed, and lifted himself upwards so he could sit in the chair next to Phillip Hamiltons bed.

He had only taken a few steps next to the chair he was about to seat himself into, when suddenly, he had found himself plunging foward toward the bed of his enemy. Though he was stopped mid-air, and he then processed what sort of position he had been—no, that his enemy had put him into.

His.. his enemy—he had clung onto his arm, and dragged him foward, closer. He then processed in his vision—his face was inches away from his enemies, from an outsiders perspective, they would look almost as if they were kissing had it been from the wrong angle. And his enemy's other hand had been on his back, keeping him close and not letting him wiggle free.

"Is.. is this supposed to be your attempt at intimidation?"

Y/N had questioned, his voice still remaining calm, yet it quivered with a sense of surprise from the action he hadn't quite been expecting for Phillip to take. Did Phillip think he was being intimidating right now?

"Listen, man—I do not give a shit that you wanna be back with your family, I do not give a shit that you hate me—you never—never talk about my family that way!" Phillip then pulled him closer—they were practically touching noses now.

"If you ever fuckin' talk about them again, I'm gonna break your arm and leave you beggin' for mercy, you hear me?!"

"...if I say yes, will you release me?"

Phillip shot him a sharp glare.

"...I will accept your offer, as long as you may offer to release me."

"What if I dont?"

"I will leave you in bed for longer than you already have been, maybe I'll even break you better than those men did. Maybe i'll even injure myself, and i'll break you further each time we're left alone. And you'll perhaps never leave this bed again."

"Heh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Pardon?"

"Bein' in my bed."

"...Pardon me, but weren't you angry with me for saying rude things about your family a few moments ago?"

"..heh, yeah. But this pisses you off, doesn't it?"

"...I believe you already know the answer, as i have begged to be released from your grasp."

"..good."

Y/N could feel Pip bringing him closer with his other hand, though he wouldn't process it for a few moments more—his knee had been brought up onto the cushion of the bed, oh, his enemy knew damn well how to piss him off. That was what he was quite skilled at, after all.

That hideous smirk stared at him longingly from a few inches away, and Y/Ns face only flushed bright red with crimson anger.

But then..

The door had opened.

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