History Has Its Eyes On You ~ A Hamilton Fanfiction (Book 1, Act 1)

Under The Roof

!!WARNING!! - This is rather depressing, as you could imagine. If you do feel that you will become uncomfortable with the themes that will be raised in this chapter and the next, I advise deeply that you skip to the chapter after the next. Please do not feel that, if themes like this have affected your life in some way, you must keep it to yourself. If you do choose to read and feel in any way that this affects you personally, don't hesitate to message me if you think that it benefit you :)

(Y/N POV)

I knocked at the door, bouncing my knees up and down at the thought that I would see him again.

And suddenly there he was.

After so long.

I leapt into his arms, twirling him around and causing him to stumble backwards. He was in shock, gasping out of utter disbelief. "You're- You're back-!" he panted.
"I promised you I'd never leave you." I cupped my hands around his face; he was still as charming as he had always been. I pulled him into an elongated kiss, as if our last letters hadn't mattered at all. He slid his hands around the back of my head, immediately forcing me into another.

He let go and took a moment to gaze into my eyes. His face brightened up instantly, with a slight blush upon his cheeks. "I- I'm sorry that I-"
"No. I'm sorry." I disrupted. "I turned you away. It was foolish of me, I-"
"And I forced you into it all. What man would force his lover into a marriage? I'm the fool."

"You forced me into nothing!" I giggled supportively, pecking his lips. "You want a marriage? You want a family? You shall hereby receive it. I will not ever make another mistake. I love you."

We kissed. A long and passionate kiss. And I didn't give a care who was watching. Why should it matter? Many had predicted it for months, and now was our reveal. Whenever he asked me, I would accept. I would be his forever.

Except...

That was only in my mind.

For now, I stood lifeless at Charles' grave.

It was nothing much: just two sticks tied neatly together by two thin pieces of rope.

It was unnoticeable amongst the crowd of gravestones, each with a name engraved into them.

Nobody would ever know who he was.

"I was there... when he died." Valentino admitted. She placed a single flower onto the grave, on top of a stack of other dead flowers. "He couldn't stop talking about you."
I could feel my heart sinking deep inside my chest, the more that I realised that his body was buried just beneath my feet. His skin had turned cold, his eyes had grown cloudy... but he was out of pain. If only I could reach down there and warm him, just for a minute...

"He said that he was proud of you... and that he would see you again some day." She sniffled, wrapping her arms around herself from the discomfort. "He wasn't mad that you..."
"...That you declined him." Emily had caught up to us, after running from our home straight to the Dame. She'd known about it all along. I just didn't listen.

"I shouldn't have been so selfish..." I croaked. My voice turned hoarse and my throat tightened, restricting my breath. "I could have saved him."
"There was nothing you could do, Y/N." Emily rested her hand on my shoulder. Valentino didn't even question the name, lost entirely in her thoughts. Charles was preparing to move into a house of his own, taking Valentino with him until she were old enough to find herself a husband. But now, she was stuck in that Dame with no one left. 

"I'm sorry-!" Valentino fell into a fit of sobs and sprinted from the graveyard.

I brushed Emily's hand away. "Could I have some time alone?" I asked.
She wiped a tear. "Of course. I'll... check on Valentino-"
"Leave her." I ordered. "Leave her, she's too young to be pestered by this, just leave her, and GO HOME."
Recognising my anger, Emily fled.

I dropped onto my knees. I knew how Valentino had felt to witness that. At her age, I sat there as my grandma died on the hospital bed. As the bleeping rang out to signal her unresponsive heartbeat. But Valentino... Now she had no one. Charles was her last hope. He was my last hope for a better future in this world. And here he was, trapped in a coffin for an eternity.

"Hey, Charles..." I greeted him. "We won the war. Did you know?" Sometimes I thought I could hear him snigger. But that was just my imagination. "I hope they gave you nice clothes to wear. Clothes were important to you." I fiddled for the letter in my pocket. "I wanted to give you this." I held the letter out to the cross, despite that nobody would receive it. "I just want to explain everything. I would have accepted your proposal, I- I was just afraid. Maybe you didn't even receive my letter in response... That would be unfortunate. Leaving you on a cliffhanger, am I? Then again, you... wouldn't want to see it. I changed my mind."

Using my fingernails, I scraped up the wet soil to the right of his grave. "I wanted to be with you. Forever. I trusted you more than anyone. After everything you've been through, I thought that my actions were cruel and th- that you deserved your happy ending..." I buried the letter into the small hole, covering it back up again. "And I suppose you did, in a way. You were always so tremendously ill and now your suffering is over." I finished by patting the soil and smiling at the grave. "We're both free now, Charles."

My eyes teared up. "Maybe I'm not who you thought I was. I was born in 2006 and brought into this world in 1776. We met under the same roof that you... that you died in. I was going to kiss you under that roof and we were going to get married and have children together... And by God, you would be the best father there is. We would raise Valentino under a roof of our own. She would marry and have children..."

I shook my head, spraying tears about the place. "If you dare tell me that they didn't give you the right clothes then I'll be the next to go on a murdering spree." I held my head onto the ground and prayed that my tears would seep to him. "Tell me that you have nice clothes on. Are they the correct size? You would hate it if they weren't..." Furiously, I struck the ground with my fist. "GOD, JUST TELL ME!!"

For a moment, I thought I heard sobs.

"Is that you?" I questioned, "Or am I falling to insanity?"

Not a reply.

I broke down into cries again. "Why can't you speak to me?!

Just speak to me!

Please!!

...Please..."

~~~~~~~~~~

Am I crying whilst writing the chapter of a fictional character whose death I've planned for over a year? No, why would you think such a thing?