//TW: swearing, alcohol, PTSD\\

Alexander

Snowflakes drifted down from an endlessly gray sky, calm and quiet and unfairly fleeting. I sat at the window and watched the flurries as they gracefully fell like tiny white butterflies, blanketing the world in a crisp atmosphere so pure and beautiful it was surreal. Lost to the dazzling sight, I longed to open the window and embrace the chill, longed to feel its feather-like pinpricks against my skin.

A very long time ago, snow was just another thing I thought I'd never have, a dream a thousand worlds away. But here I was, watching as it fell silently, and it was all mine. And I wasn't going to just sit here for another moment, waiting while its cool, soft bliss passed me by.

I slipped into Thomas's room as quietly as I could with every intention of waking him up so we could enjoy the snow together. It wouldn't be fair to hoard it all to myself rather than share its delight with him. I would get to see him smile and laugh and that was always more than I deserved anyway.

Needless to say, I liked spending time with him.

But I paused, hovering over him, something in my chest thrumming to life as I took his sleeping form in. I was just close enough to where I could breathe in the flowery scent of his shampoo. He smelled sweet, but not overpoweringly so, like roses and honey. And he laid there in bed so peacefully, the layers of blankets like a fortress protecting him from a world that only wanted to hurt him. And whatever he was dreaming about was enough to elicit a tiny smile. He looked so...

I don't know. So good.

"Good" by itself didn't really describe it, but then again, there was no word that could. It was a moment so breathtaking in its simplicity, something I wish I could have bottled up and kept, all for myself, to have to remind me that there was still some good in this world. I didn't know much, but I knew was that whatever this was, it felt warm. Fuzzy. And something I never wanted to let go of.

Thomas was his own little island, and I would have given anything to be a part of that beautiful, untainted island.

A part of me regretted stealing the only respite he got from the world away from him, but I couldn't wait a second longer, watching him sleep. Especially if I couldn't be apart of whatever made him smile. So, as selfish as I was, I leaned forward and gently shook him.

"Thomas?" I asked, voice hardly above a whisper.

He groaned softly and shifted, pulling the blankets closer to him. I bit back a smile and tried again, able to feel the warmth of his body even through the thick, cloth shirt.

"Come on, Thomas. It's snowing. I'm gonna go outside. Wanna come with me?"

"No thank you I don't want that."

I forced back a laugh and shook him gently yet again, unsure of what I would do with myself if he didn't join me. "It's snowing!"

"So?" He mumbled something else, but the words were muffled by the blanket and forever lost, but there would be plenty more sentiments spoken only for me, plenty more moments shared between the two of us.

Especially if he would actually get up.

"Come on!" I poked him, trying to get him to move.

Thomas sighed and turned, blinking up at me through a sleepy haze that clouded his eyes. I smiled down at him as I prodded him in the ribs, eliciting a quieted groan of displeasure. A few moments later, he pushed himself into a sitting position and ran a hand through the unruly mess of curls that had become his hair.

Okay, but why is he this cute in the morning?

I hardly had time to grasp the thought before it drifted away from me, and definitely not enough time to process and dissect it.

"Thomas, please? I wanna see the snow."

"Why?" he muttered, and I wouldn't have been too surprised if he didn't know what he was saying. "It's just snow."

"Because I love snow. And I would love it even more if you came with me."

He was quiet for a long moment, then finally withdrew himself from the safe cavern of blanket he had created. "Okay, okay. I'm coming. Just give me, like, five minutes."

I lingered for a bit longer than necessary, unwilling to relinquish the precious seconds I had with him. But he pushed himself to his feet and grabbed the hairbrush sitting on the nightstand, and I hurried away before I could be any more of a nuisance.

Thomas finally emerged about ten minutes later, the blissful and delicate haven of sleep completely gone, replaced by the harsher realities of the waking world. He flashed me a small smile, yawned, and nodded towards the door as if waiting for me to lead him away.

"Are you sure that's enough to keep you warm?" I asked, eyeing the sweater and the gloves.

"You don't have to worry about me, Alexander," he said quietly, flashing me that soft smile that always felt like it was just too good for me. "I'll be okay."

"Well, if you're sure." I extended my hand to him, an offer he was fortunately quick to accept. And we stood there for a second too long, hand in hand for no reason but we didn't really need a reason. It made me happy, it made me warm, and wasn't that enough?

Thomas drifted close to me as we walked through the streets, still crowded even in the coldest conditions. It took every part of me not to run through the snow and act like the inner child that was waking in my chest, struggling to break free. But running wild would mean having to let go of Thomas's grip, and that just didn't seem like something I could bring myself to do. Especially not with the way he clung to me, like letting go of me would mean him disappearing.

"If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would it be?" I asked as we entered the park, turning onto the old trail I had taken him down what seemed like millions of times already. The first time I had shown him the fountain already felt like eons ago, and frankly, I didn't mind to put some of the more awful moments behind us forever. The cold chill pricked my face like a series needles, but I enjoyed it, unlike Thomas.

"The Mojave desert," he returned.

"Really. Why?"

"No snow."

"I'm serious! Anywhere in the world."

"Oh, I don't know," he said with a shrug.

"France?"

Thomas paused, a frown creasing his face as the single word sunk in. "Am I really that predictable?"

I laughed, unable to hold it in, not that I wanted to. With Thomas, there was no need. I had every freedom in the world to just be who I wanted, every freedom to laugh freely and talk about whatever crossed my mind. I didn't have to be somebody I wasn't. I didn't have to hide a part of myself. I could ramble and talk about the stupidest things in the world and he would listen simply because he wanted to.

I'd never felt so, just, happy around another person before.

We reached the fountain a few steps later, the stone crusted with snow. The hanging icicles glimmered in the sunlight that cascaded through the leafless branches, depicting a scene that seemed like something from a fairytale. It was a stunning picture, but everything seemed a bit prettier with him around.

Thomas snapped one of the icicles off and began to toy with it, never one to have empty hands. I watched him eagerly. There were quite a lot of things to be seen if you just waited and watched.

"What about you? Where would you be?"

"Honestly, I'm happy right here."

Thomas paused, the icicle slipping from his grasp. He didn't say anything, but the ghost of unspoken words flashed through his gaze like lightning. Bright and bold, gone within seconds. "Okay. Besides here."

"I don't know. I hear London's really pretty this time of year. Or Venice? Or maybe Amsterdam?"

"Amsterdam's beautiful."

"You've been?"

"Only once. I'd go back in a heartbeat, honestly. But I've been to Venice and London too." He sat down on the edge of the frozen fountain, resting his arms in his lap. "Anywhere's better than here," he said after a moment, his voice distant and breathy and disappearing into the air.

Anywhere's better than here.

Why did that hurt me the way that it did?

"What do you mean?" I pressed.

Thomas shrugged, eyes clouding over as though he was a million miles a way, floating adrift in a vapid black sky. "I don't know. I guess I just feel so...trapped here." He swallowed, staring at the branches that danced in the chilly wind, free and emboldened. "I feel alone."

I had no response, because what did one say?

Perhaps Thomas was a bird. A bird, trapped in a tiny iron cage rusted over by time and neglect. A beautiful, timeless bird whose song had been silenced and whose wings had been broken. A bird who just wanted to be free, to be able to fly once again.

Did that make me selfish for not wanting to let the bird go?

"Oh, well, uh..." I began, fumbling for something that didn't sound like I was sinking through a thousand violent waves. Or at least not make me sound like a total idiot. I'd settle for that.

"Ooh! I know what I'll do," he said, a bit brighter, and the life returned to his eyes. "I'm going to change my name and move to Beijing for a year. And then, I'm going to move again to a different country. And again."

"Yeah?"

"You know, I've always wanted to visit at least a hundred countries before I die."

"Wow. Ambitious," I teased, doing everything I could to ignore the sudden screams of frustration burning against the back of my throat, demanding to be brought to life. "You sure you could move every year? I'd never be able to do that."

"I don't like staying in one place for so long." He shook his head firmly, running his hands along the rim of the fountain. "The world's so big and open and it's all waiting for me. It'd be a shame to not see as much of it as I can, right?"

"I suppose."

His hand drifted against mine, and although my fingers were numb and dull, warmth sparked through me with just the slightest of his touches. "Would you come with me?"

It took me a few seconds to process what he was asking me. I looked up at him, blinking, trying to suppress an idiotic smile. "You'd want me to go with you? Not Lafayette? Not Aaron?"

"Well, they could come if they wanted," he said, and he drew his hand away. Only then did I realize what I said and what it must have sounded like.

Cursing myself, I scrambled to fix my mistake. "Well, it's a beautiful idea in theory. And if there weren't so many other things, I'd go with you in a heartbeat, but..."

"It's just a dream," he said, filling in what I couldn't bring myself to say aloud. "A passing ideal." Thomas glanced over at me and smiled. "Don't worry, Alexander. I'm not a complete idiot. One day when all of this is far behind me, and I have a much more stable life, I'll be able to leave. But for now, I don't mind staying."

For now.

I had him for now. And for now was good enough.

"Speaking of dreams, what are your plans after all of this? College, I mean."

"Oh, uh," he began, his body stiffening despite the shivers that wracked us as we sat in the below-freezing morning. "I'm not sure."

"No?"

He opened his mouth to speak, then paused, as if whatever he was planning to say was simply just not enough. Then, he cleared his throat and started again. "Well, I wanted to be an astrophysicist." A laugh followed his words, like he was dismissing himself. "But it's too late for that now."

"An astrophysicist?" I repeated.

"Yeah, you know. Learn all that I can. It's stupid, I get it, but I've wanted to do that kind of stuff since I was a child. Work for NASA, send people to a completely different world. I'd have to get a doctorate, I guess. Oh, God. Could you imagine that? If people called me Dr. Jefferson? Oh, that'd be awful." He shook his head, and the dream was and would forever be just that. A dream.

"That doesn't sound awful at all. That's really...well, why do you think it's too late?" I asked, searching his gaze and hating what I found. It wasn't inherent sadness, more like a subtle grief aged by years of reluctant acceptance.

Grief for everything he had to let go of, and getting nothing at all in return.

"I don't know," he said, turning away from me. "I'm going to graduate with a bachelor's in chemistry and that's going to be it." Before I could push anymore than I already had, he cut me off. "What about you? Still gonna be a lawyer?"

"Absolutely." I nodded firmly. "No doubt about it."

He laughed, looking down. "You'd make a good lawyer."

"Because I like to argue?"

"That's not what I meant and you know it."

"Mhmm."

He crossed his arms, his gaze flicking over to movement in the trees. Two small, brown birds perched on a branch, and his eyes softened when he saw them. That smile became warm and real, rather than somber and sad, and he watched them with an interest I had never given to birds before. I suppose they were interesting creatures. Delicate, fragile, but capable of wonderful things, things a human couldn't do. What does it feel like to fly? To leave a life behind in search of a new one?

But a second later, and the birds took off into the open sky, chasing after one another.

"Oh!" he said after a moment of a silence I couldn't fill. "Right. I forgot to tell you. I found a job!"

"Yeah?" I returned, relief filling the empty spot in my chest. I guess that would have to be a worry for another day, when he inevitably left me too. Because everybody always leaves in the end. But for now, he would stay. "Well? Tell me about it!"

"I'm gonna be, umm, offering violin lessons to kids," he said, shrinking in on himself a little. "My first lesson is tomorrow, and we're just gonna see how it goes from there."

"Thomas, that's wonderful!" I exclaimed, grabbing his arm without even thinking about it.

And he didn't flinch away.

"So, I guess we can start talking about rent and all that."

"Thomas, you really don't have to worry about that stuff."

"It wouldn't be fair."

"I really don't mind."

"Alexander, I feel horrible for taking advantage of your kindness. I should be able to pull my weight."

I softened, pressing my tongue against the back of my teeth to keep myself from arguing with him. Sighing, I caved in to him and his pleading eyes. "Okay. But can we talk about it more at home?"

Thomas nodded. "If you'd rather."

I smiled and nudged him lightly with my shoulder. "Hey, I'm really proud of you, you know. This can't be easy for you. None of this can."

Thomas sucked in a soft breath, but he didn't say anything. He didn't have to. His smile spoke loudly enough.

"Now, can we stop being so sad? I hate sad things," I said, all at once.

He grinned, and something melted in my chest just a little bit more.

"Sad things are very...sad. Sorry. That made no sense. What would you like to talk about?"

"Raccoons."

"Yeah?"

"I think raccoons are drastically underrated and hated upon for no reason."

Thomas laughed, rose, and offered me his hand, blinking expectantly. I took it without even thinking, and if that was going to become a normal thing, I don't think I would have minded in the slightest. We finished our normal route through the park, and I loved every last moment I got to spend with him as the steady snowflakes drifted down around us.

~•~

Thomas

I flipped through the pages of just another book, reading but not really. The spine crackled under my fingers, but the sound and the easy-to-get-lost-in smell and the texture of the paper against my skin just didn't strike me the same way it usually did.

Especially not with Alexander gone.

"10:30," cackled the clock on my phone in its same old laughter, as the screen blinked up at me with an indifferent, white gleam. But the notifications were empty, no new texts to be read, and my hands refused to stay still.

There was a storm rioting in my chest and stomach. A storm of anxiety, whirling around a field full of life and destroying all that it could touch. And it never faltered, not for a second. It beat onwards simply because it could, leaving a trail of debris in its wake.

In.

Out.

But how could I breathe when the one person who held onto me regardless of all the terrible things I am had disappeared like early morning's mist in the hot, blazing afternoon sun?

I reminded myself to breathe over and over again until the message mostly stuck, but even then, breathing was the very last thing I had on my mind. My fingers drummed against the couch, just because I needed to keep them occupied, but the storm continued waging and Alexander was missing and—

My hand darted for my phone, laying mostly ignored on the coffee table. Without fully thinking it through, I found his contact and started typing, the room around me a delirious blur. A mess of colors, contrasting sharply with each other, burning into my eyes and burning into my mind.

And I knew they wouldn't return to their dull aching until I was absolutely sure he was okay.

Thomas: Alexander??

Thomas: where are you lol?

Thomas: is everything okay?

But I went ignored, unanswered, and assuming the absolute worst. Because when the surety and the calm melted away, it left so much open space for fear to slip in. Fear, with its cold, icy claws raking down the back of my chest. With its firm, chilling grip around my heart.

I tried calling him. Over and over. But the empty dialing tone answered every time without fail. How long would it take before that endless cacophony filled my nightmares with its unkept promises and tidal waves of anxiety?

And there was nowhere to go.

I tugged at my hair, the pain the only thing keeping me glued to reality. I considered my phone for a second more and tried a different tactic.

The tone dialed, once, twice, and then finally, I got an answer.

"Hey, Lafayette." I asked as soon as he picked up, doing everything I could to mask the trembling in my voice, but it simply must not have been enough.

"Thomas? Is everything okay?" he answered groggily and annoyed, as if I had pulled him away from a litany of dreams much nicer than what the real world actually was.

"I'm sorry, I—"

"What's wrong?" he repeated.

"Is Alexander still with you guys?"

"He left about an hour ago. Why?"

The air caught in my throat, and it felt like I'd never be to breathe again. The storm in my chest only worsened, battering against my ribcage and worming its way into my heart.

Somehow, I managed out a small, unheard, "Okay."

"Is he not back yet?"

"No, he's not." I slapped my face with my free hand, grasping onto the pain because it was the only solid thing I had left. It kept me from spiraling. "Okay, I'm, uh, I'm going to go look for him—"

"Don't you dare," he hissed in return. "I don't want you, just, wandering the fucking streets when it's this dark out."

"Well, I have to do something!"

"Thomas, just breathe. Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

It's so easy to tell other people to breathe, isn't it?

And so hard to actually do when the air goes bitter and poison fills every inch of your lungs.

"I have to go."

"Don't you dare hang up on me!"

"I'll text you when I find him."

"Thomas, I'm serious—"

But his voice cut out seconds before he could finish whatever he was going to say. I bit down on my tongue until the metallic taste of blood welled into my mouth, then forced myself into action before I could wait a second more.

I raced to the door, not wasting the precious few seconds I had with getting dressed or putting on something warm, even though it was probably still snowing outside. It didn't matter. The awful thoughts racing through my head wouldn't stop, not until I knew he was okay.

And through it all, I could only picture one thing. A ridiculous, stupid thing, but an ignorable thing nonetheless.

James would never hurt Alexander, whispered the better half of me. The optimistic half. The naïve half. And it repeated it over and over until the words sounded fake. James would never hurt Alexander.

But it was a lie I was feeding myself, simply because it was easier to believe than the blood-curdling reality.

And I was not going to let somebody get hurt because of me. Especially not somebody as wonderful as Alexander, who deserved the stars and the moon and who instead had gotten a candlelight flickering and bowing to the winds.

Just as I reached the door, however, the lock clicked, and the knob turned. I stepped back as it opened, revealing the slightly disgruntled shape of Alexander, swaying but thankfully unharmed.

"Oh, thank God," I said, a sigh of relief coaxing itself past my lips. I eased backwards, running my hands through my hair as the whispered words of things that would never come to pass silenced, all at once. But still, when I spoke, it came out shaky, uneasy. "You're okay."

"Of course I'm okay!" he exclaimed, the words echoing through the quiet room. I stepped backwards as the unmistakable scent of alcohol flitted through the air, striking my senses like a lit match finding solace with a puddle of unchecked gasoline.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Alexander—" I began, the words scraping against the back of my throat.

I mean, I guess I should have figured. Especially if Lafayette could actually—legally—buy alcohol. But it still struck me hard.

"Shush! Shush shush shush!" he said with a wide grin. His hand wrapped firmly around my wrist in a way he never had before, a way that trapped and held and kept. It was the same kind of way James used to grab my hand. Not to be reassuring. Not to find comfort.

A way to remind you exactly who you belonged to.

I struggled to pull my hand away from Alexander, but he led me to the couch unapologetically and sat me down. He laughed—giggled, really—and continued to hold me tight. I don't think he meant it to hurt me and it really didn't but I couldn't breathe and I couldn't think and I was spiraling out of control fast and fierce and unable to slow down almost like I was free-falling with land rapidly approaching and there was nothing I could do, was there?

"Can you please let go of me?"

"But if I let go of you, then you'll leave," he protested, pouting slightly, but that pout transformed into a grin that somehow managed to be breathtaking even as panic continued to spread its treachery through my body. He laughed, pressing himself closer the more I tried to worm away, and there was just nowhere left to go and nobody left to face but the boy right in front of me.

"Alexander, please. You're hurting me."

"No! I'm not letting you leave!"

A thousand words died on the tip of my tongue, and I was left sinking in an ocean, cold and unfamiliar.

"Thomas?" he whined, pushing me against the back of the couch. "Thomas, please promise me you'll never leave me!"

"I don't, I—"

"Thomas I need you to promise me!"

"Okay, okay, I promise I won't leave you."

Did I mean it? Would I really give up on the best chance I had to put this entire, wretched place behind me for him?

And in the moment, I didn't know.

"Good." He smiled, tilting his head a little, and I was so painfully aware of his eyes raking the length of my body. But he laughed again, slipping a bit away from me. "God, do you know how, like, how cute you are? Like it's kinda unfair. Let the rest of us be cute."

"Ale—"

"No! I'm serious Thomas! That is something that has to happen! You have to know how cute you are!"

"Okay, Alexander. You probably need to get some sleep," I said softly, pushing him away.

"But I feel like things are happening, Thomas!"

"I mean, I don't know, I..." I swallowed, but it didn't matter how much space I tried to put between me and him. He always pressed closer, closer, closer to where I could smell the putrid alcohol on his breath and feel the chilling touch of his hands against mine.

"You're cold, Alexander."

He frowned. "I don't think that's a thing though."

"Let me get you something—"

"No!"

I darted backwards and away from him, eyes closed and bracing myself for a strike that never came. Still, my heart raced through my chest with no intention of ever slowing.

"You're not leaving me," he whispered, looping his arms firmly around my waist and setting his head on my chest. I wondered if he could hear my heartbeat. I wondered if he even cared.

His fingers drummed against my back, but the melody was off. Discordant. And it was nothing against the rising tide of panic drowning every other instinct out.

"Alexander," I begged softly. "Alexander, please, just let go of me."

"Just let me stay."

"You don't want to."

"I do."

"You can't."

"Why not?" he persisted, because he never gave up. He never stopped, even when he couldn't even hear himself. But he inched away, looking me dead in the eye, and even as the darkness seeped in on us, I swore I could see the desperation glinting in his eyes. "Why don't you want this?"

My tongue went heavy, my throat went dry. And I couldn't answer him, simple as that.

Because it was far more complicated than words would could ever express. The thoughts thundering through my mind were unspeakable and better left unnoticed.

They whispered of a time I fought to forget. They reminded me of a fear I wanted to put far behind me. They conjured up the image of him, drunk and angry and never satisfied with the things I could give him, and how eager he often was to remind me that I belonged to him and he could do whatever he wanted to and with me and that would be the end of it.

He could touch me all he wanted and nobody would ever come rushing to save me. There was no knight in shining armor. There was no brave hero with determination of steel.

There was just me and James and nothing to come between us.

The thoughts recreated that shrinking world to which there was no escape. A world where there was nothing but that endless cycle of torment, spinning and spinning as if caught in an infinite loop telling the same old story just with different words each time.

I pressed my eyes shut, leaning back against the edge of the couch. Because there was no way to explain that to him. Nothing would ever be enough.

And how did I tell him that even as I craved and desired the soft, gentle warmth of his hand against my hand, that comfort of him always being there like a fire in the hearth, I feared it too? I feared what the fire might turn into if given enough fuel. If given enough reason to flare.

Or perhaps that wasn't it. Perhaps I wasn't afraid of the fire as much as I was the devastation it would bring and the thought of having to stare at that lifeless pile of smoldering embers knowing that all I could do was, yet again, pick up the pieces?

"Can I stay?" Alexander asked softly, finally coming to terms with the situation we both found ourselves thrown in, against our wills. "Or—"

"You can stay," I whispered, staring up at the ceiling with an unblinking gaze. "But you'll regret it in the morning."

"Says who?"

"Trust me, Alexander. You will."

"But I don't right now. And maybe that's what's most important." He fumbled over the words, laughed, then repeated himself before once more, setting his head against my chest.

"You should."

"No. I disagree." A sigh, breathy and sad but relieved at the same time. "I just want this."

He hardly gave me time to think of a response before his eyes closed, the rise and fall of his chest steadying into that rhythmic pattern older than time.

And outside, the snowflakes continued to fall.