Trapped. He felt trap. That was all Philip Hamilton ever felt when he lay down on his soft bed that night in his room. And yet he shouldn't ever even feel trapped.

He had everything a normal fifteen year old boy like him could want. A powerful father, the most loving mother in the world, and while his little sister Angelica could be quite annoying sometimes, she was still his little sister, and he loved her.

But there it was again. A nagging feeling that something would wipe everyone and everything he had ever loved like a storm. Other people didn't know, but he knew.

Worse, he knew that other people didn't know that he knew. While he, his little siblings and his mother along with his aunt Angelica went upstate to go to his grandfather's house, he had been writing letters non-stop to Theodosia Burr, a close friend of his.

Sometimes, he would write joking love letters to pretend to be courting her, and she would reply with the same level of enthusiasm and goofiness.

Sometimes, things would be bad and they had to reach out to each other for support, like the time her mother had died. They had been there for each other through it all, despite their fathers wishes.

Sometimes, his mother would catch him writing his latest letter and she would smile and encourage him to speak out, believing that the Hamiltons and Burrs should not be enemies, but friends.

But not all letters brought good things...

+*+

One day, when Philip had exhausted himself reading from the public library upstate and getting into an argument with his classmate George Eacker who just happened to be upstate for the summer as well, he felt like his brain was fried the moment he found himself on the doorstep of the Schuyler's house.

He sighed, extremely tired and glad to be back somewhere where he knew he would be taken care of. He opened the door without knocking, a habit his aunt Margarita called him out for, but he didn't bother stopping it, and neither did she anymore.

"Philip!" Eliza yelled and he saw his mother rush through the doorway of their living room in her elegant blue dress, holding her arms wide.

Philip smiled, not wanting his mother's dress to be ruined by his sweat, just stood there. He could smell delicious cooking coming all the way from the kitchen. Damn. His mother and aunt were probably working hard for their supper, maybe even his little siblings.

"Hi, mam," he said, smiling when they both turned their heads through the doorway, hearing his little sister and brother arguing about something as always.

"Do you want to eat early today, Philip?" his mother asked with a smile. That smile. It had always belonged to his mother's face, through all the years.

"No, thanks, ma," he said, dismissing her with a wave and a smile, not wanting them needing to start earlier even though his stomach was already aching from the hunger. He found the bag which he slung over his shoulder getting heavier and heavier the longer he stood there.

"I'll just go upstairs and change," Philip said with a smile. His mother pursed her lips, something she would usually do before she went on to ask him another question.

"Do you want me to prepare the bath for you?" Eliza asked with a smile. He shook his head. He didn't want his mother going through any more trouble than she already was. His father was still back at home after all, working and working, writing and writing. He didn't really know why.

He knew that his father just really wanted to get his plan through congress, but Alexander was also quite unaware that he was hurting his wife's heart, even just a little bit, and honestly, he also wished that his father would spend th summer with them as well. His little siblings would really love that, too.

"I'll just change," he said once again with a smile before turning to his right and going up the carpeted stairs. His parents were wealthy from his ma's inheritance and his pops' power and authority, but Philip Schuyler was wealthy on a whole 'nother level.

Philip finally dragged himself up the last few steps of the stairs and walked through the hallway and stopped on the first door on the left.

He opened the door to his room and the first thing he saw was the decently sized window overlooking most of the room, letting the rays of the sun in. He smiled, feeling at home. They had a room for each of them in their house, but only had one guest room.

He was glad for the number of guest rooms in his grandfather's house, he thought as he dropped his bag and placed it in the corner beside the bookshelf in the room, watching the sun as it slowly descended down the sky in the late afternoon, painting the sky orange for a good long moment.

He contemplated whether he should start writing a letter to Theo as he stared at the desk on which he would usually write on, but decided he could do it later after dinner.

He could hear that his little brother James had joined the argument downstairs, and Angie and Alexander were both getting louder now as he removed his clothes.

He sighed as he shook his head with a smile, putting on what he deemed suitable for dinner, which was too informal for everyone else's standards, but he couldn't really care about that and tied his curly hair into a low ponytail. He opened the door and bounded back down the wooden stairs.

"Oh, Philip!" his aunt exclaimed, looking at him for a moment and her eyes widened with a hint of sadness in them. She exchanged equally sad looks with his other aunt Peggy and his mother, before turning back to him with a smile on her face, though he could tell it was quite forced.

He knew his aunts and mother cared about how he presented, but he didn't know they cared this much. He wondered what was wrong with putting his hair in a low ponytail.

Angelica left the stove, leaving a brewing pot on the kitchen stove, causing her little namesake shriek and take care of the lunch instead, and their mother helping them.

"You received another letter from the Burr girl!" Angelica said, rushing over towards him to give him a quick hug and leaving towards the living room, her light red-orange dress trailing behind her as she left.

"Philip, kindly take care of James, John and Alex!" Eliza called out with a smile before he could run after his aunt. He smiled as John tackled him into a hug and he lifted his youngest brother into the air before setting him down again with a laugh.

    James gave him a small side hug, which he returned as unethusiastically, but they both had genuine smiles on their faces. Philip turned towards Alex who had his face buried deep in his books and crept up behind him and without warning, wrapped his arms around him, causing his little brother to shriek.

"Philip, here's your letter!" Angelica called out with a lettter in her hand as she entered the kitchen once again. His eyes widened, hoping that she hadn't read it yet.

"Did you read that?" Philip asked with alarm in his voice as he removed his arms from Alex and walked towards his aunt who was standing in the doorway.

"Why?" his aunt asked before her eyes widened and a mischievous smile made its way onto her face. "Oh? Is someone sending love letters to Burr's girl?"

"No!" he screamed truthfully, but for some reason he felt his face heating up and he sent a dirty look to the other Angelica who was snickering as she stirred with their mother.

"It's just private," he said, exasperated, hoping that they could all accept his explanantion because in truth, it was the real explanation. He and Theodosia ended up becoming really close friends and they started to share nearly everything with one another.

There were many things that he wanted to tell someone, but couldn't really tell his family in fear of rumours and snickering to grow. Theo was the only one he trusted a lot of things with and would only share with her.

"No reading until supper's done, Pip," James said suddenly, running over to their aunt to snatch the letter, and she just stood their, crossing her arms to see where the sibling bickery would take them.

Philip groaned as he raced James around the room, trying to take back the letter from him, with John following them around and earning shouts of irritation from Alex.

"Boys! Calm down! Supper's almost ready!" Eliza said with a smile as she turned off the stove and began to bring the pot to the table in the dining room next door.

He sent a spiteful yet playful look to his little brother who had a teasing smile on his face as he clutched the envelope tightly in his hand and he could only hope that James wouldn't completely destroy it and he made his way to the dining room in a huff.

He spied his older namesake enter the dining room and he gave him a curt and polite nod, not really knowing how to act in front of his grandfather, as he took the second seat on the left of the head of the table, Margarita on his left and his little sister on his right.

Supper went by without a hitch, though little Angie asked about a new girl named Frances Laurens and caused their two aunts and mother to go silent and multiple looks of worry were thrown across the table until John decided to break it all up by complaining about how barely any of his siblings would play with him.

If he were being honest, he did go out of his way to play with his little brother, but sometimes the library just called to him, and maybe causing a few arguments was also an appealing idea. What could he really say? He was a Hamilton with pride.

The rest of supper passed by quite well without any major drama happening for once, but Philip couldn't help but give multiple glances at James and hoping the letter clutched in his brother's hand would remain safe and unread by anyone else.

"James, may I please have the letter now?" were the first few words he said after he had finished his dessert, pushing back his chair and standing up curtly, holding his hand out in front of him, willing his little brother to return the letter.

"Fine," James huffed, letting the letter fall from his hand and onto his brother's, before muttering about helping Alex with extra credit work and heading up the stairs.

"Boys, don't stay up late again! You, too, Angie!" the older Angelica yelled as she rushed up the stairs, probably to ensure that they all kept to the promise. He couldn't help but roll his eyes playfully. They were all Hamiltons for a reason.

James and Alex would stay up late no matter how many times aunt Angelica would tell them otherwise, and little Angie was a sneaky one and never got caught staying up late, though he would always hear her murmuring something from time to time about the most recent book she was reading. He was quite envious of her ability to never get caught.

Philip, though, still wasn't defenseless when it came to staying up against his aunt's wishes. He was quite persuasive and managed to secure a truce allowing him to stay up some more, one hour at a time.

"Do take care of yourselves," Eliza said as she began ushering up her father up the stairs, thought it didn't really take much. The Schuyler was quite strong for someone at sixty-three.

"Hey, Pip, tell that Theodosia that she better know how to cook," Margarita suddely said, making him jump in surprise. She had a teasing smirk on her face before making her way up the stairs in her sunny yellow dress.

He sighed, checking around the house one last time, ensuring all lamps are off, before heading up the stairs himself, whispering the poem he wrote back at nine. It wasn't a great poem, but it stuck to him through the years.

Philip opened the door to his room and flopped down on his bed, not bothering to change, and spent a good few moments staring at the ceiling thinking about his father and his obssession of getting his plan through congress. Alexander must be tired. But then he was Alexander, so he probably wasn't. His father never seemed to get tired of work. He often wondered why.

He sighed as he sat up in his bed, looking at the letter clutched in his hand. He stood up again and untied his hair, letting it fall. He walked over to his desk which he usually used for writing whenever he would visit the Schuyler's and lit the lamp and practically ripped open the envelope. His heart began to race.

Theodosia was quite worried for him, and he didn't know exactly why for the moment, but he appreciated it and continued reading. She wrote about how her life was a little less lively now with him gone, and he found himself longing to be back, or at least bring her here where his family and her can all be spending the summer together.

She also talked about how he should have fun with his siblings and he couldn't help but shake his head at that. He loved them all, but they both knew that they appreciated each other's company as well.

    He smiled sadly when Theodosia wrote about how she and her siblings, both adopted and biological, met a few boys from South Carolina. He couldn't help but frown at that. But he wasn't jealous, he told himself, he was just being protective of her. Like a brother.

He couldn't help but smile a little bit as he read about how she missed him so much and he could imagine his siblings grinning smugly at him and he wished he could wipe the grin off their faces.

Then it came. It didn't seem so bad at first. Theodosia wrote about how she would find herself often going to their house when the sun went down, wondering if everything was still okay, and he found himself smiling even more as he read that part. He didn't know why he should be worried.

Until she wrote about hearing things. Hearing sounds. Sounds of love. She wrote about how she wasn't exactly sure that it was his father, but every time she would pass by, she could hear Alexander's voice. She ended the letter with telling him not to worry, but he shook his head in disbelief, his breath gaining speed.

That shouldn't be true. That couldn't be true. His father was a rightuous man. Alexander would never do that. He just knew it. He would defend his father against everything, because his father was always right. But maybe not this time.

Philip found himself staggering a few steps back, lips quivering as he picked up the letter again with shaky hands as he read through it. Could his father be possibly committing adultery without Elizabeth's consent? He should not have been, but he probably was. Theo wrote about hearing his father. He could actually be cheating on Eliza. He closed his eyes and let the first tear slip.

+*+

That was how he found himself in bed that day, staring up at the ceiling, feeling very much trapped. They were all back home, with Eliza sleeping with Alexander, not knowing what he had committed.

Little Angie didn't know, neither did Angelica or Margarita. Little Alex, James and John didn't know as well. It was just him. And when his mother was busy visiting her sisters for a night or two, he would hear those sounds again. They were haunting him.

    He tried telling himself that if no one else could hear them, it wasn't true, but his room was the closest to their father's though, and whenever he and Theodosia would have a forbidden sleepover years before, they both could hear the sounds.

He stood up as he looked around his own room at home. It wasn't as roomy as the one back in the Schuyler's house, but it still had enough room for a small shelf and a writing desk.

Philip found himself picking his quill up again with a sigh. It felt much heavier now. Everything did. Especially when no one knew. He didn't want to break the news to his mother, so he kept quiet about it. He didn't want to haunt his other siblings as well, so he kept quiet about it.

No matter how much he tried to keep quiet, to push the whole ordeal to the back of his mind, it still came back, a little stronger than before. He couldn't escape it no matter how hard he tried. They would all have to know eventually, and he dreaded that day to come.

He started writing to Theodosia. After each and every day passes by with the knowledge of his father's crime of passion, she was there for him. He would sneak out sometimes just to be wrapped in her warm comforting hug.

Philip was really grateful for Theo. Even when most of the world seemed to be passing by unaffected by anything, she was still there. She was the one person he could reach out to. She knew. But then again, she never really understood.

Still. He wasn't complaining. And he wrote. He wrote about how Theodosia was the only one helping him tether to his sanity. Without her, without knowing that someone else knew, he would probably be in a much worse state than he actually was.

He wrote about how distant he had become to his siblings. He didn't talk to them as much, for fear of breaking down and spilling everything. He wrote to her about how he could never be alone in the same room as his mother for more than a few minutes. He couldn't help it. Whenever he saw the kind smile on Elizabeth's face, he remembered about the deed that she didn't deserve to face.

Philip wrote about how distant he was to his father, and how he didn't like the way Alexander acted like everything was okay. Like he didn't sleep with another woman in his own bed a year or two ago.

He wrote about how he himself still kept up the act. About how he himself had to act like everything was okay. On some days when everything almost seemed normal, he was acting too cheerful, while on some days when things started to overwhelm him, he shut himself out from the rest of his family.

His hand was starting to grip the quill more fiercely as he wrote about how much he hated it. He hated everything. He hated how Alexander acted like everything was fine. He hated how his family didn't know and how they did deserve to know. He hated how he was the one who knew. He wished it wasn't him.

Philip sighed, dropping the quill. He was being too passive aggresive about this, and while he was a Hamilton with pride, he didn't want to be like his father, writing nearly all the time. Excessive writing was what probably got his father into the whole mess in the first place.

He frowned as he could hear the faint sound of how Alexander's quill scratches on the paper from the othe room with his father's quick strokes. Even after Alexander had gone through with his plan, his father was still writing. Alexander Hamilton was always writing nowadays.

He smiles sadly as he tried to recall memories from his early years when his father was happy. When his father wasn't always writing. When Alexander actually stopped to look around at how lucky they were to be alive right now.

Philip had remembered that something happened. He couldn't remember what. Whenever he asked his mother or aunts, they would always shrug it off. All he knew was that after the incident had occurred, his father started writing non-stop.

He bit his lip. His father did stop, though. Stopped, only to make love with someone who wasn't his wife. It was all getting confusing. He didn't understand why his father would do that. He had to admit that Elizabeth wasn't Alexander's dream spouse, but she was a great one nonetheless.

He wondered if there was someone out there in the same place as he, knowing that their parent was being disloyal to their spouse, but can't say anything about it because they have to keep it all inside for the sake of the world. There was probably no one. The best he had was Theodosia.

He stood up and looked out his window with the sun already sunk low in the sky. He wished he knew. Wished he knew the answers to all the questions swirling around in his head. He wished he could tell his family. Wished everything could just be so easy.

Philip could hear little Angie murmuring about a new book again. Little Alex and James were both arguing loudly, not bothering to be discreet. Elizabeth was humming a tune to llittle John while Alexander was writing.

He made his way towards his bed and tucked in, not bothering to make an attempt to stay up that night. He barely stayed up anymore. Sleep was the only thing that he could use to escape the cruel reality of the world. Other than Theodosia, of course.

He found himself thinking of her, wondering how she was doing. Wondering how she felt when she first found out. She was scared, of course, but he wondered how exactly did that fear affect her. He couldn't help but frown at the thought of Theodosia knowing. She didn't deserve to be roped into this. None of them did.

But he couldn't change that no matter how hard he tried. Philip Hamilton was trapped. And maybe he caused it to himself.