//TW: swearing, PTSD, past abuse, mentions of self harm\\

Thomas

I see him every time I'm alone.

He might not be standing right beside me, watching with that ever present gaze and touching me with that chilling-yet-burning touch, but that doesn't mean I can't see him or hear him or feel him. Just the mere thought of him hurts, etches wounds into my being that'll never heal simply because they're too deep, and they've been untreated for too long.

I see him everywhere.

I see him in the corners of my eyes as I'm walking down the street, a fleeting blur always gone whenever I turn to look. I don't know if he's really following me or if I've turned every shadow I come across into something that they aren't, but regardless, I've become so accustomed to the sour taste of fear that it's hard to imagine anything else.

I see him as I stare into the bathroom mirror, looming behind me as he always does, waiting for that moment to find me alone. And no amount of water splashed into my face or the pills meant to stop the world from spinning can ever make him go away.

I see him when I close my eyes, trying to drift off into a mindless, numbing sleep. But he haunts my dreams too, following me because he can never really be satisfied with all that he's managed to steal away from me. There's always more to take.

At least I can stop hearing the echoes of the words he's growled into my ear over and over again until they've stuck. All I need is music, pure and elegant and gliding through the air as graceful as it always does. All I need is the warm embrace of a familiar song that hasn't once failed in brightening the world. The music chases the monsters away, and even if it's only temporary, I'd take it. I'd take it for everything it is and hope that it's enough, even though I know it isn't.

But there are some nights where he just can't be ignored. Where the constant feeling of him pressing me down, the feeling of his hands keeping me as his, the feeling of James and everything that he encompasses keeps me tossing and turning and inches away from sobbing. There are nights where pain is the only thing strong enough to counteract James and his vice-like grip, and there are nights where it's just so impossibly tempting to give in to the darkness tugging at the edges of my heart. But I don't, because I made a promise, and I'm going to keep that promise no matter what.

If hurting myself means hurting Alexander, I'd never take a knife against my skin again.

But I see and I hear and I feel James because he never goes away, and neither do the awful, nightmare-like memories of all the things he's done to me. They seem so distant, so hazy, like a thousand photographs hung together to create something they aren't. But they torment my every moment when I'm alone, sharp and painful. Perhaps even more painful than a knife.

It will forever be branded into my very being. It will forever be who I am.

James is not darkness. He is light. Burning, blinding light seeping into every last thing I had to myself. Endless, meaningless light stripping away everything the world has to offer and leaving nothing in its place. Darkness brings a sense of peace and relief, especially after so long of being stared at, being tortured by their gaze. And James doesn't yield that.

He never did. He never could.

That isn't to say he's incapable of love. Because he does love. He loves in his own, twisted, abominable way. But that has always been the problem. Love and hate go hand in hand, one often mistaken for the other. But still, James is not incapable of love.

I am.

"Is everything alright, Thomas?"

Alexander's gentle words from the next room over snapped me out of my thoughts and brought me back to a reality that made just a bit more sense than the one I had spun for myself.

"Huh?" I asked, unable to comprehend, let alone answer, a single question. The bright yellow lights of the bathroom blurred the world around me, keeping it out of focus despite my efforts to balance myself.

"Is everything alright?" he repeated, quickly but not impatient because Alexander's never impatient with me.

I turned my attention back to the running faucet, water spilling down against the porcelain sink. I blinked, wondering if it had just been my imagination that the water had appeared red for that awful split second, and turned the faucet off. How long had it been on? How much had I wasted?

I gazed back at the mirror, at the frazzled, unrecognizable creature staring back at me. I ran my fingers against my neck, wincing as the dull pain of week-old bruises flared. At least they were faint, hardly noticeable. My fingers curled around the case of foundation, clinging to the makeup because it was the only thing hiding the animal I truly was from the world, then forced myself to let go of it.

I've always been vain, and now, it isn't any different. Too much of my time is poured into stupid, inconsequential things that I need to have in order to survive daily life. Nobody would care even if they did manage to make out the host of bruises and cuts on my face, and yet I still felt the need to hide them. Did they lesson my value? Perhaps not. But I still couldn't face everything they stood for.

I hummed a song of jasmine and honeysuckle under my breath, humble and forgiving and sweet. A song that brought me a few steps closer to the ideals of love, even if I couldn't fully embrace it for myself. Not yet, at least. It was a song thats meaning couldn't be explained by words, as much as people tried. But some things were just more powerful than the meaningless explanations assigned to them, and the sooner we understood that, the happier we'd all be.

"Thomas?"

I realized I hadn't answered his question.

"Sorry. I'm okay. Off in another world I guess," I said, forcing myself to laugh and indulge in something that could at least be presented as an attempt at happiness.

Alexander appeared, his reflection leaning against the doorway. He cast me an easy smile, one I wasn't quite sure I deserved.

The bruises were gone, and even though their memories remained, that's all they were. Memories. And how did one move on if they didn't let go of all the things holding them back? So I forced myself to relax and smile at both Alexander and myself. He matched my smile, and a bit of the ice around my chest melted away with the promise of the start of a new spring, a new chance. I had been holding onto a person I no longer belonged to, and the sooner I let go, the sooner I could start living again.

It shouldn't have taken me this long to realize this, but now that I have, I could finally embrace freedom again.

The bruises were gone, and with them was James. And as long as I stayed here, in a totally separate world from a boy whose name had become synonymous with the word monster, I would never have to hide any again.

"You ready to go?"

My fingers reached for the hairbrush I had haphazardly thrown down minutes before. They curled around the hard, plastic handle, giving me something solid to cling to. "Um, not yet." To emphasize the point, I raked the hairbrush through my hair and let out a frustrated sigh when it caught in a tangle. I tried tugging it through to no avail, slightly relishing in the pain it brought. "Sorry. Go ahead without me. I'm not exactly feeling it anyway. I'll probably just slow you guys down."

Alexander's smile fell. He stepped through the doorway and stood next to me, his hand touching my arm fleetingly. "Come on. Don't talk like that. We love spending time with you."

The protests died in my throat with that single word. What a powerful sentiment. Love. I had never understood what it meant and I doubt I did now, but it sounded real. It sounded like something to be held onto.

He nudged me softly with his elbow, dispelling the fleeting thoughts like a flock of anxious birds taking off into the sky. "And plus, Aaron flat out told me that if I don't bring you along, he's gonna kill me and feed my spleen to the dogs."

"What dogs?"

"I don't know. That's Aaron for you. Always going on about the weirdest shit."

"Hey! Be nice to Aaron!" I reprimanded gently, unsure of myself at first, but Alexander smiled so I guess it was okay.

"Aaron does not deserve niceness."

"Yes he does! He goes to the library with me. He listens to me ramble on about books for hours on end."

Alexander was remarkably quiet for a moment, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out why. I hadn't said something life changing. Or different. Or pitiful. "I'd do that." A tinge of something touched his voice, and as self-absorbed as I was, I briefly mistook it for jealousy.

"Would you?"

"In a heartbeat."

I managed something that might have resembled a smile in low light and stared down at the countertop.

"Are you sure you're alright? This isn't about yesterday, is it?"

I shook my head. "I'm just not having a great day in general. But it has nothing to do with you. I promise."

"Why don't you come with us, then? You'll feel better." He didn't understand but I still couldn't stop myself from smiling at the thought, smiling at the words. He wanted me to be happy, for whatever reason.

Alexander tugged on the hand that was holding the hairbrush. I offered it to him, and he took me by the hand and led me to the couch, where he began to comb through my hair. I tried my best not to give into the temptation to just fall asleep in his arms. It was difficult, though. He was nice. Warm.

"Hey, could you imagine what would happen if we just switched to kilograms instead of pounds?" he asked out of nowhere. I didn't quite understand it at first but the words were peppered by that soft little tone he did when he joked around, as if he was suppressing a laugh.

"Umm, I don't know. What would happen?" I asked, eager to hear his laugh and feel his happiness buzz through the air. Maybe I could take some of it for myself, if he'd let me.

"It would be mass confusion."

I blinked, then sighed the second I understood, fighting back a smile. "Oh my God. Alexander."

"Oh come on! That was good!"

"I think you and I have different definitions of the word 'good'," I returned softly, trying not to move as he kept combing out the knots.

"You keep on using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means," he mumbled, almost under his breath.

"Was that—was that Princess Bride?" I asked, turning to look at him. I smiled sheepishly, face warming. "I love Princess Bride."

"Yeah?! Me too! It's like, top ten best movies of all time."

"It's a book, too. But I've only read it once."

"Is it? Ooh! I'll have to read it sometime."

Alexander ranted on about how much he loved Inigo as he brushed through my hair—and let's be honest with ourselves, who doesn't love Inigo Montoya? He was probably my gay awakening or whatever.

"What about you? Favorite character?"

I allowed myself a small smile, opening my mouth to speak, but I fell silent as a series of rapid knocks on the door shook the room, distilling the joy in its tracks. I froze, fingers curling into fists as the pounding on the door continued. My mouth went dry and it became impossible to swallow, the unspoken words getting lodged in my throat. Pushing myself back against the couch, away from Alexander, away from the door, seemed to be the only sense of safety I could manage.

"Hey, it's alright," Alexander said, brushing his hand against my shoulder. "Relax."

"Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize." He fixed me with that warm, never wavering smile, and how could I not do as he asked? Especially when he looked at me as if nothing else in the world was as important as me. James had once looked at me like that too.

And I threw that away.

"Alexander!" the voice yelled from the other side of the door, and the rapid beating of my heart slowed the second I identified it. I allowed myself to relax, casting a small, apologetic smile at the boy sitting next to me. Alexander softened for a split second, then turned to the door and rolled his eyes.

"You can come in. It's unlocked. And plus, I know you have a key."

John let himself in, arms crossed firmly as if he had every intention of berating Alexander. But the sternness in his face dropped as he glanced at me, and he smiled in greeting. "Hey, Thomas! How's everything going?"

"Well, I'm not dead."

"That's always a good thing."

How can somebody constantly stay so positive? It must be draining. All the more respect for him.

"What the fuck do you want now?" Alexander asked, crossing his arms.

"Are you coming or not? We've been waiting, for like, five minutes."

"Aww, five whole minutes? How ever will you survive?" Alexander shook his head. "We were just about to leave, actually. But did that really warrant you breaking into our apartment?"

I couldn't stop myself from indulging in the slightest of smiles with the use of our. It felt right, in its own foreign way.

"Bitch, you let me in!"

"I...don't think I did," Alexander returned, his face innocent and confused, but there was that ever-present air of smugness that somehow just drew you closer, always wanting to be the subject of his glorious smile.

I scooted a few inches back, warmth rising into my cheeks as it always did when I found myself on the outskirts of an Alexander-and-John moment where they were able to let go of the restrictions the rest of the world cast on them and act like, well...I don't want to speak from a place I know nothing about, but...

It felt like I was invading. Like I was seeing things I had no right to see. I glanced at my bedroom door, wondering if I could escape unnoticed. Let them have their affectionate bickering disguised as annoyance, but not very well.

They were good for each other, I think. Not that I would know anything about relationships or love or even the basic principles behind devotion and loyalty. But they made each other happy, right? Isn't that all you need in a friend? Or somebody who meant more?

It shouldn't have stung, but it did, simply to know I'd never make Alexander happy in all the right ways that John did.

It stung but it was a pain I'd manage to get over, because as long as the most people possible were happy, who cared? As long as Alexander was happy, who cared?

"Anyway, are you coming with us or not?"

"Oh, how cute. You're so desperate to spend time with me that you can't be without me for even a few minutes."

"Listen up, you dumbshit whore. I don't have the time for your fucking games, alright, pal? We haven't hung out as much lately and that's a problem that needs fixing, so stop fucking complaining, you bitch, and get your fucking ass in gear." John cut himself off, turned to me, and smiled, though it seemed like he just now remembered that I was there. "What about you, Thomas, are you gonna come with us?" he asked sweetly, in perfect contrast to two seconds ago.

I laughed softly, silently wishing I could have been anywhere in the world but where I was sitting. "Umm, actually, I think I'm going to stay here."

"Aww, you sure?" John said before Alexander could manage anything out. "It'll be fun!"

I shook my head, staring at the hands I kept locked together in my lap. "No, no. It's fine. I wouldn't want to bring you guys down or anything."

"Thomas, please," Alexander said, touching my arm gently but holding on tight. I wasn't sure whether I liked it or not. Scratch that, I wasn't sure if I was supposed to like it or not. "You know I don't like it when you talk like that. It won't be the same without you. You know I'll just be worrying all dinner and then, well...just come with us? Please?"

I pulled my arm away from him and pushed myself against the very edge of the couch. Only then did I realize he was still holding the hairbrush I had offered him, and I tried not to think about the moment we had shared alone. He clung to its handle tightly, perhaps not even realizing it.

"I can't," I said softly, wishing I could have done better while simultaneously knowing it was all I had to give.

"Bad day?" John asked, the question thankfully accommodating a brisk nod in response. "That's alright, Thomas! Don't feel pressured into doing anything you can't do. We're not going to think less of you or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

I let out a breath of relief, nodding and completely unable to meet anybody's gaze. Not his, and especially not Alexander's, whose annoyance and disappointment I could practically taste melting on my tongue, sour and stale.

"Maybe we'll stay with you, then," Alexander said, and when I looked up at him, he was smiling.

"Alex, we should give him space if that's what he needs," John said.

"Go," I said, nodding towards the door. "You'll have fun without me. And when you get back, I'll play you your song."

"You promise? You'll be okay when I come back? You won't hurt yourself?

"I promise."

Alexander cast me a small smile, holding out his hand and offering me my hairbrush once more. I took it gingerly, our skin brushing against each other in a fleeting indulgence I tried to ignore, especially as a flush of warmth worked its way up into my cheeks.

"I guess we'll see you later, Thomas," Alexander said, rising. "Don't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Don't do anything Alex would do," John added, nodding firmly. He frowned a moment later. "You look different today."

"Ha, uh, no makeup," I explained quickly, gripping the hairbrush tighter. It was still warm from being in Alexander's grip. "I don't need it today."

It didn't take him long to catch the hidden meaning, but once he did, a wide smile blossomed over his face and Alexander seemed to relax a little. "Really? Thomas, that's wonderful!"

I nodded, saying quick goodbyes and watching them leave. Alexander cast me one last look, as if giving me another chance to change my mind. But John ushered him along, and the door closed firmly after them, drenching the room in a silence and solitude so great, it was hard to catch control of my breathing for the longest moment. I let out a breath, forced myself to relax, and stood.

I don't understand.

I don't understand Alexander.

I don't understand the way he looks at me, the way he treats me like I was somebody who deserved to be loved. I don't understand how easy it is for him to completely drop his guard around me, to talk about things he'd never tell anybody else despite our history. I don't understand how he can be so soft and so patient with somebody who clearly isn't worth the world he's offered me.

Alexander deserves a lot more than me, and it's very, painfully obvious. He is good for the sake of goodness; he is refreshing shade in the midst of a harsh, beating sun. I don't know what he sees in me but I'm not sure if I have the heart to tell him he's wrong. That I'm certainly not half as good as he thinks I am, but if I were, I could do anything in the world.

I don't understand.

But in fairness, I never really did.

~•~

I returned the violin to the case, already missing its familiar wood pressing against my neck, really the only solid thing I had left to depend upon in a world full of unknowns and constantly changing variables. Change was beautiful just as much as it was terrifying, just like most things in life. And even if it was good for me, it was just hard to embrace. But I'd get there one day, no matter how long it took me.

I sat down at my desk, my fingers curled tightly around the pen as a plethora of words bubbled up to the surface, begging to be released just as much as they fought to stay forever hidden. I stared down at the blank paper, its empty lines mocking me, reminding me that I was never as strong as everyone else seemed to think I was. They thought I was brave, but I was really just a coward. It's all I'd ever been, all I could ever be.

I let out a breath. The last notes of the violin's song still hung on the air. As I had been playing, it had been remarkably easy to form endless sentences sprawling into infinity, perfectly conveying every meaning I needed to pour out before they exploded inside of me. But now, sitting with the power to spill them over onto the paper directly in the palm of my hand, words escaped me.

Who am I kidding? I don't want to write this, I thought, simultaneously knowing that if I didn't, life would only get worse for me. But still, I stared down at the empty page, wishing this came as easy for me as music did. But music transcended words.

This, obviously, did not.

I could already picture his reaction, clear as day in my mind. I could see his anger overshadowing the tiny sliver of fear darting through his eyes. And as much as that terrified me, especially knowing that he would put whatever emotions he felt into actions, I really had no choice.

How do I do this?

Start writing.

The two words echoed through my mind, my own voice but so clearly different at the same time. They were sharp and clear and left no room for confusion, no room for second-guessing. A simple instruction for a not-so-simple task. But regardless, I had to write, so write I would.

I placed the pen against the paper and began.

To say that the words pooled effortlessly from my mind to the paper would be a complete and utter lie. It was messy, to say the least. I filled the paper with half-written sentences and half-formed thoughts, crossing most of it out as I went. I must have wasted at least four pages of scrap paper on mindless rambling that led nowhere, but I didn't stop until I was happy with it. Well, not happy. But not completely disgusted by it.

And that was enough, I guess.

I read over the letter once, twice, as many times as I needed for the words to engrain themselves into my mind forever, but not enough to make myself completely hate everything I'd written and chuck it into the nearest fire just to watch the paper curl and the ink to be forever lost.

Letting out a breath, I folded the paper up neatly and stared up at the sky, praying to whatever creature watching over me that it was enough. That it would finally end this once and for all.

My throat clogged with all the things I couldn't say, I grabbed the folded letter firmly, tossed on my sweater and shoes, and ventured out into an endlessly indigo sky, dotted with little islands of white just barely visible over the glare of the city's lights. I'd give anything to see the stars one more time, to feel their protective, welcoming stares washing over my body. Sometimes it felt like they were the only ones looking out for me, even if they were just burning balls of gas hundreds of lightyears away.

Oh well. It was nice to assign meaning to things that couldn't argue back.

I walked through the city streets by myself, somewhat of a new experience to me and not one I ever really wanted to go through again. Every stranger in the crowd seemed to watch me as I passed, even though I did all that I could to stay unnoticed. I kept my head down and tried to lose myself in my fast-paced walking, but to no avail.

Campus was quiet and mostly empty, which was welcome for once. It didn't take me as long as I wanted it to to trace that all too familiar path through the lawn and to the building I had once called my home. I stood outside the doors for a moment longer than necessary, staring up at the looming whitewashed bricks.

I forced my palms flat, crumpling the letter slightly, and pushed myself inside. I should have left it in his mailbox but I was too stupid. Too determined to ask for a trouble I didn't want, much less need. I nodded to the women at the desk, who seemed to recognize me but asked no questions, and took the stairs. The elevator conceded too much control. The stairs gave me at least the illusion of knowing what I was doing.

Lifetimes seemed to pass on that staircase, and yet, it wasn't long enough. Before I even knew what was happening, I found myself down the hallway, and soon, at the door. I stared at it for a long moment, blinking, wondering how stupid I actually was for coming back here when it was the farthest thing from happiness and love and all the things I sought.

I closed my eyes for a moment. A very long moment. And in that moment, those darkened thoughts whispered once more in the back of my mind, a tune unforgivingly cruel.

You know you need him.

My fingers gripped the letter tighter as I wished I was braver. Better. Worthy of Alexander's time.

You're making a mistake.

The elevator down the hall dinged, and I jumped and swiveled to face it, a thousand excuses jumping to my lips. But two unfamiliar girls stepped off, laughing loudly and never once noticing me.

He won't ever forgive you if you do this.

If I didn't do something now, it wouldn't be long before James found me standing at his door. And it wouldn't be long before he sneered and mocked and laughed at me, pulling me back inside and caging me once again like some precious, tiny bird. Then, I would never be able to glimpse the glimmering stars again. He'd make sure of it.

This is what you want, isn't it?

I sighed, slipped the paper underneath the door before I could talk myself out of it, and turned on my heel and put the imposing door as far as I could behind me. With luck, James would find it. Or would it be better if he didn't? The letter was more for me than it was for him, anyway, but it didn't matter.

You're going to regret this.

You're going to leave James behind.

A small hint of hope flourished in my chest as those last few words echoed through my mind, as I went back down the stairs and through the lobby and left an old life behind for good. Closure had never felt better. And my hands were considerably lighter now that they were unburdened by the unrealistic weight the letter created, but now it was all gone.

I stepped back into the night, glanced down at my phone, and pulled up Alexander's contact information.

Thomas: sorry I know this is annoying but are you guys already done with dinner?

Thomas: kinda had a change of heart ;)

A second passed before he responded, just a slight second.

Alexander: It's not annoying at all!Come join us!

Alexander: I need you to help me prove a point anyway lol

Alexander: See you in a few?

Thomas: absolutely !!

I allowed a small smile, glanced up, and took a deep breath of the fresh night air before pocketing my phone and heading over to the restaurant where Alexander and the rest of his—my—friends waited for me.