(Y/N) = Your Name
He could hear you, even though you were trying to be as quiet as you could be.
You were trying so hard not to wake Philip up with your pathetic weeping and whimpering. He didn’t need to hear your sob story at three in the morning. He had things to do tomorrow and you did too. But you couldn’t help but feel like a pile of useless crap. You have been this way since you were young. Your parents were awesome and loved you unconditionally and your siblings did too, but you had struggled with your anxiety and depression since you were a young preteen. The usual bullying in school fuel your insecurities and self-hatred. You didn’t like showing a lot of skin and tried to stay away from loud and big crowds, making you a social outcast. How you managed to catch the eye of school playboy Philip Hamilton will always confuse you. He could have any girl he wanted, so why choose the school outcast? You weren’t special. You weren’t smart or athletic or beautiful. Was he with you out of pity? Because he was dared to by some of his friends? Maybe his dad wants him to be with a girl who wasn’t a slut?
You went silent when you heard Philip’s voice. You mentally scolded yourself for waking him up and grew still, trying to make it look like you were asleep. Your face felt wet and sticky from your tears, causing your hair to stick to your face. You fought the urge to pull your hair away.
“Baby, are you awake?”
You buried your face deeper into your tear soaked pillow and prayed for Philip to go back to sleep. He shouldn’t bother himself about you. You weren’t important. Please go back to sleep and forget about me. You heard shuffling behind you and Philip wrapped his arms around you, making you flinch. You felt him tug at you, turning you around so you laid on your side facing him. You had your eyes shut so he couldn’t see your tears. You flinched when his hand brushed away your hair and cupped your cheek. You were shaking and you knew he could feel it.
“(Y/N),” Philip whispered. “Look at me.”
You hesitantly opened your eyes, a group of tears rolling down your cheeks. Philip wiped them away. His eyes held concern and worry. But there was another emotion you could quite place. Was it love? Or pity? You couldn’t really tell.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Philip asked in a whisper, holding your gaze as he rubbed your arm.
You couldn’t speak. Your voice wasn’t cooperating with you. The only sounds you made were whimpers and heavy breathing. Philip pulled you in and held you against him, running a hand through your hair. You started crying again, as much as you didn’t want to. You felt horrible about waking him up for something so stupid. He had so much to do tomorrow and all you had was two lousy classes you hated. You used up all of your excused sick days so you had to go to the classes, as much as you wanted to sleep your life away.
After your crying turned back to soft whimpers, you pulled away and wiped your face. Your face was red and tear stained. You were emotionally exhausted. You didn’t know what to do about how much you questioned every little ounce of love Philip and your friends had for you. Why love you? Why not people who deserve it?
“You’re doubting yourself again, aren’t you?”
You looked at Philip with a blank look but he could tell he was right. Your eyes said so much. This wasn’t the first time he woke up in the early hours of the morning to the sound of you whimpering and crying. It broke his heart every time you woke up sluggish and emotionally distant. Did you really not trust him that much? Did you seriously doubt how much he loves you? You’ve made him so happy for the past year you’ve been together. You made him smile, laugh, and just feel good about himself. You always had a flirtatious joke to use as a counter-attack on him when he tries to be a casanova. You were an amazing cook, a beautiful singer, and you make his parents laugh and smile. Hell, his dad has been giving him trouble about how long he’s gonna wait until he’s gonna marry you. That isn’t a bad idea, but maybe you guys should wait a little longer.
“(Y/N), how many times do I have to say ‘I love you’ for you to understand that I’m not going to leave you?” Philip asked, looking you dead in the eye. “I’ll say it a hundred times a day if you need me to. I’ll make you multiple lists of what I love about you. I’ll leave you notes and texts and voicemails of just me reciting a love poem if you want me to. Because I can do those things. For you, (Y/N). So please, don’t doubt me about loving you, because I love you. So much.”
You stared at Philip for what felt like minutes when it was really mere moments. You felt your face heat up and the corners of your mouth twitch up. You felt your doubt disappear and you smiled. A true loving smile. You don’t want to doubt him anymore. As long as he’s there for you, loving you, and helping you love yourself, that’s all you need.
“You don’t have to do that, Philip.” You murmured, cupping his cheek with one hand. “As long as you’re here with me and you truly love me, then that’s all I want from you.”
Philip smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He pulled you closer once again, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck. He let his fingers run through your hair, murmuring sweet nothings to you, lulling you into a sweet sleep. You felt him kiss your head again before you drifted off to sleep, Philip falling asleep soon after.