//TW: swearing, abuse and manipulation, mentions of attempted suicide, panic attacks\\

Thomas

James gripped my hand tighter, refusing to let go. The anger radiated off of him in droves, suppressed only by his unchanging, unfeeling facade. A vacuum filled the room, a vacuum where sound cannot travel and light only barely pierces, as Lafayette ushered us inside and closed the door behind us. I stopped in the center of the room, my face burning as all eyes fell to me and the boy who clutched my hand like I would disappear if he loosened his grip even a little.

It is days like these that make me wish that was the case.

The pain had mostly faded to a dull ache that was, for the most part, easily ignored. The stitches remained, keeping my arms tied together, and I wasn't dead. So, that was good enough to get me through another day. That's all I have to do. Get through another day. And the rest will come later.

They stared at me, and I was all too aware of the questions that flitted through their gazes but never graced the air. I forced myself to stare at the ground, face aflame, as my mind began to spin to compensate for all the things they weren't saying by imagining all the things they might as well have been.

"Uh, hi," I offered, trying my best not to squirm under their stares. I searched the room, looking for that one single person who could alleviate all the anxeity entangled into a tight ball in the pit of my stomach with just a flash of his signature smile, but he was nowhere to be seen, the absence of his presence a crushing blow that knocked the air out of me. I tried not to falter, tried not to let my disappointment show, but besides me, James scoffed all the same. His grip tightened, and I bit down on my tongue to hold back a wince.

Where was he?

Had I finally chased him off?

"Uh, where's Alexander?" I asked John as he came to stand beside me, keeping my voice as low as I could with James hovering over my shoulder, always scrutinizing every little movement.

"He's coming," John whispered in return, letting his hand briefly skim against my back in a sense of reassurance. The touch was so unexpectedly welcome that it almost knocked me off my feet. "Hercules is getting him right now." At my questioning glance, he shrugged. "I think his phone died or something."

Relief poured through my body, a sweet song rising in volume as the dead of night crept over the land. The weight disappeared from my chest, and suddenly, I could breathe just a little easier.

His words came rushing through my mind just as they always did.

In.

Out.

"Hey, Thomas!" Eliza said with a bright smile, her and Maria fawning over a tiny bundle of fur sitting happily in Maria's lap. She waved me over, and reluctantly, James followed as I went to join them. "How's it going?"

"I'm good," I returned. "How about you guys?"

"Well, we're okay," Maria returned, scratching behind the kitten's ears. "We haven't killed anybody nor have we died so it's one of those days."

"Well, that's always a plus?"

Maria looked up at me, narrowing her eyes. It took me a second too long to realize she was joking. "How would you know? You've killed somebody?"

Why is murder always a topic of conversation with this people?

"Well, don't expose all my secrets!"

"Shut up and take the cat," John pressed, carefully shoving a kitten into my arms. "Meet her. Love her. Promise to sacrifice yourself to her."

"Uh, please don't," James helpfully advised.

But I ignored him, as suddenly enraptured as I was by the tiny presence bundled up in my arms.

So this is what love feels like?

This complete vulnerability, this unending adoration that filled my chest, created by the same very things that weave together the portraits of our fantasies? This pervasive desire to protect such an innocent animal from all harm, no matter the cost, no matter the toll? Is this what it is to love and be loved so unconditionally? So openly? And to know that this one being will never hurt you, never rip you open and tear you to shreds just to bask in the pain it brings simply for the entertainment of it?

"I'm never letting go of this cat," I mumbled, dropping to the floor and beginning to worship the sudden but welcome brightest part of my life. Cautiously, James slunk down besides me, watching the cat as though it was a ticking time bomb, seconds away from sending the world up in smoke.

Perhaps, in a way, it was. For it certainly paved the way for the beginning of the end of the little delusion he had lost himself in, dragging me along with him. But for now, she was just a kitten, and she did not need the weight of my life crushing her down.

"That's Berlioz," Lafayette said, smiling as he joined the circle beginning to form around us.

"Berlioz!" I exclaimed, unable to hide my delight. I scratched softly behind the kitten's ears, melting at the way she purred and knowing that somehow, I had been the one to cause something such happiness, such comfort. Perhaps I wasn't as loveless as I thought I was. "I love it! And I love her!"

Angelica took a seat on the other side of me as Lafayette continued, introducing the other two kittens, and of course, reminding me of their wonderful mother, who soon came creeping out from underneath the couch and sniffed at my foot. James flinched back slightly, watching the family as they lazily milled about.

"Wanna pet her?" I asked, holding the kitten out to James in an underscored attempt at a peace offering. Maybe we can make everything else go away.

"No thanks," he said, waving her away, as uneasy as I've ever seen him now that we were no longer tucked away in the secrecy a closed door allows. Now, we were out in the open, and so the masks tightened and the dance begun. "You know I'm allergic."

And yet he came here anyway, desperate to prove some point I didn't yet know the nature of. Was this his attempt to rectify one of his numerous mistakes? To remind me that even through all the things he's done to me, he will always be here? Or is this for a reason more sinister? To placate me into submission all the while making sure I don't take one wrong move?

Regardless, I doubted it would change the outcome.

"Oh, you are?" Aaron asked, briefly glancing down at the kitten in his hands, as if considering something, but for the life of me I couldn't—oh.

"No."

"What?" he exclaimed. "I didn't say anything!"

"You're not going to do whatever you're thinking," I continued.

"Umm...how do you know what I'm thinking?"

"Because I know you."

"Okay, and what am I thinking?"

"You're thinking that you're going to kill me with a cat," James continued, crossing his arms with a semi-amused smile that somehow felt genuine as much as it did antagonistic. "And I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not, like, deadly allergic or anything."

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath.

"Aaron!"

"What?"

"Aaron, I really don't think you can just kill someone and expect to get away with it," I said as I scratched behind Berlioz's ears. The kitten had nestled herself between my legs, providing a very furry leg heater which is safe for the whole family.

"You take all the fun out of life," he retorted.

"Oh, sorry for not letting you kill people. My bad."

"You know what I should do? I should set myself on fire, and then you'll be so upset you'll have no choice but to let me kill someone."

"That's... that's not how this works," Angelica said, staring at both of us like there was something wrong with us. But, to be fair, there probably was. "That's really not how this works."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know. I know everything."

"Everything?"

"Everything there is to know."

"And yet, somehow," I said, trying to fight back a smile as I curled my fingers through the kitten's soft fur, her warmth pooling into me as the greatest treasure one could ever hope for. "Your book recommendations are still complete and utter trash."

Angelica gaped at me, and I couldn't help but laugh, lifting my hand to hide my face the way I always did, afraid that if the world saw my joy it would once more try to take it away. Besides me, James had gone strangely quiet, his hand softening around mine. When I glanced at him, he snapped out of whatever trance had gripped hold of him and murmured some apology, staring at the ground before him.

"Uh, no! Name one recommendation that led you astray."

"Okay, should I start with Throne of Glass or—"

"There is no way on earth you didn't like Throne of Glass."

"Actually, I hated it. I couldn't wait to be done with it. I was so glad to have turned the last page and purge that horrid nightmare from my mind. I would have burned it if it wasn't from the library."

"Okay, now I know you're full of shit. You liked Six of Crows!"

"And if you think you can truly compare the beautiful masterpiece that is Six of Crows to that garbage heap, then you're truly dumber than you look," I returned harshly, then faltered and cast her an apologetic smile.

"Well, you know what, Thomas?" Angelica said, crossing her arms. "And I really hate to say this because I know what you go through and I don't want to say anything hurtful, but you kinda deserve this."

"What?"

"You're a bitch."

"Angelica," Eliza hissed, swatting her sister's arm.

"Well of course I am," I said, grinning at her. "Somebody's gotta be, around here."

"You really just came for me like that. Totally unprompted. What did I do to deserve that, huh?"

I cocked an eyebrow at her, rather unimpressed.

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath that suspiciously sounded like another word that might not merit being repeated. I hid my smile behind my hand, but a flicker of movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention.

"Everything okay?" I asked James softly as Angelica and Lafayette prattled on for a few moments about the questionable ethics that lay behind insulting a man who had just gotten out of the hospital literally a few hours prior.

"Yes. I'm sorry," he returned, letting go of my hand and drifting away.

"If you want to leave—"

"No. You're happy. We can stay for a bit longer, I guess."

The others must have heard him, for a swift and deliberate silence drifted down on us, choking the voice out of my throat. I returned my attention to the kitten sprawled in my lap and scratched the sensitive area behind her ears. She purred, reminding me just how much I missed the tangible feeling of another being's happiness pressed against my skin. I glanced back upwards, eyes inevitably tracing to the closed door, as if staring at it could make it open all the sooner. I couldn't help it—there was an aching void in my chest that only his smile could fill.

What if he chose not to come? What if he was still horrified by the revelation of what I had done to myself? What if the realization sunk in: the one that he was simply not enough for me to stay around and keep fighting for just a day longer?

But what he'd never understand is that he was. He was the only reason I hadn't ended what I had started, for without the memory of his beautiful smile as we basked in the light of the stars flickering forever above our heads, I would not have let myself hesitate the way I did. I would not have screamed for help, and James would not have come to save me like the strange being he is.

Alexander was worth living for.

And I could never give that up, even if he did not realize it. Even if he decided to stay as far away from me as possible, refusing to let himself be hurt by a boy who simply did not care about his feelings the way I should, the way he deserved.

But the truth of the matter was that the possibility, however slim, that one day, I would find myself safe within his arms again even if that welcome bliss can only last for one heart-shatteringly brief moment—as long as that possibility still existed, then I would continue to survive.

James must have noticed my sudden attention for the door, my baited breath as I waited for it to open and reveal the one person I longed to see more than anything else, for he notices everything. But surprisingly enough, he did not speak, he did not move. He simply tugged on my hand, and when I glanced at him, he offered me a smile.

I faltered, unsure of its meaning, unsure of its intent. After a moment, I returned it with one of my own, but the hesitation must have been written far too clearly on my face, for he turned away a moment later and studied the world outside the window.

"So," John said, trying for conversation in the steady silence that had fallen over us. "Aaron, how's your musical thingy going?"

"Well, auditions are next week," he returned.

"Oh, yeah? What piece are you using?" I asked, head bobbing up as he spoke.

"I'm not sure yet. I was thinking maybe I could do Giants in the Sky? But I'm still figuring it out."

"You nervous?" Lafayette asked.

"No, not at all. I'm so confident that I'm going to go frolic in a field for a few hours," Aaron returned. "Yes, obviously I'm nervous, you dipshit."

"Okay. No need for names," Lafayette returned.  "I'm just trying to make conversation."

"Well, I hate talking to you."

"Well, I hate your face."

I opened my mouth to respond, but the sound of the door opening arrested my attention, and my head shot up as I turned to face the newcomers. Two figures stepped into the room, their faces shadowed by the yellow light streaming in from the hallway, but I could recognize that silhouette from anywhere; it had been the prominent feature of every dream I've had for so long.

"Hey, guys. Nobody's dead yet, I see," Hercules called as he entered.

There it is again. It's uncanny.

Alexander walked forward, his arms crossed and Hercules just trailing after him. I slid backwards, feeling my joy fading like a flickering candle extinguished by a strong breeze, and waited for him to notice me. Lafayette and Aaron's arguing drifted off into an incomplete resolution, a silence filling the room as we all waited for his reaction.

I wish we could have been alone, just Alexander and I. For a few moments, just to ourselves, to relive the days we shared together, our feelings a secret to the world so they could not become just another thing to be ruined, to be destroyed. And if that was not the case, if he truly wanted nothing to do with me anymore, I'd rather not have an audience to that inevitable breakdown. But the gazes of everybody pressed in on me, and Alexander's expression did not change, and for the longest moment, I felt like disappearing.

I had been waiting for this for almost a week, trapped within the confines of those cold, cinderblock walls. It had become a thing of my fantasies, a reason to hold onto the world. A spark of warmth in a sea of that unfeeling cold embrace. I had been salivating for a chance to spend time with him unencumbered by the steady pulsing of the machines all around us and he had to want this as much as I did or had he given up on me or believe that I am no longer worth his time or—?

"Thomas!" Alexander exclaimed, a smile blossoming on his face like the birth of a new star, filling the world with light and passion and inspiring a warmth deep inside my stomach. It was as if he had only just seen me, and that alone had been enough to warrant such a carefree, glorious smile.

James did not speak, but his irritation said more than he ever could, evidenced in the way he gripped my hand and pulled me just a bit away from Alexander. I felt his eyes glued to the back of my head, assessing every movement, his earlier vulnerability a thing so forgone I must have imagined it.

"Hey, Alexander," I returned, offering him the brightest smile I could.

Grinning at my mere presence, a thing I never believed anybody could do, Alexander crossed over to where James and I were sitting and joined us, all the while promptly ignoring James. "How do you feel?"

"I have a cat! So how can I feel anything but utterly amazing?" I lifted up Berlioz for him to see, and with a soft laugh, he reached forward and scratched the crook of the kitten's neck. "I've decided I don't want children, just cats."

James sighed.

"Well, I'll get you as many cats as you want, Thomas," Alexander returned with an even smile, but the comment was not pointed at me.

No.

No, no this cannot be what this is to him. This cannot just be a chance for him to argue and scream at James, not when I'm sitting right here, desperate for his attention, desperate for his love. This has to be for us—me and him—not anybody else. He cannot allow James to ruin something else with the inevitable fighting.

I prayed to him, as silent as I always was, that he would not turn this into something it is not.

Please, please, I need this. I need what we once had. Just for a moment.

I just want him.

I forced a smile, refusing to show that the comment slipped right underneath my skin rather than that of the person's it was intended for. "Okay, I'm going to hold you to that. Anyway, how was your day?"

Alexander shrugged. "It hasn't been too horrible. Yet. I mean, I'm here with you, though, so I really couldn't be happier."

I had no idea to respond, my face flushing as a little voice niggling in the back of my head scoffed at the thought. I breathed in deep, nudging him softly with my shoulder, grateful for his proximity and the relief that radiated off of him in droves. Why was it so easy to be around him? What happened to my reservations, my inhibitions?

It didn't seem fair, but then again, I suppose fairness was not a factor the universe considered when paving our fates. So I'm not sure why I keep returning to that simple truth, for it never is going to change.

The world was not created with us in mind.

"Anyway—" I began.

"So what exactly are you doing here?" Alexander asked, as if I had never spoken. Biting back a sigh, I turned down to the cat. She seemed just as bothered by it as I was, or perhaps that's just me being myself and projecting my concerns on to every other living thing, whether it cares or not. I let go of her, hands balling into fists until my palms stung.

"I'm here with my Thomas," James returned, slotting his arm around my waist. "Is that a problem?"

I cannot believe that this is what this is for. I may as well be a ghost, as quickly as I am forgotten. Or perhaps a toy left to gather dust in the corner of some empty basement, while the children who used to love chose to hate instead.

That's fine.

I don't care.

So as Berlioz gazed up at me, ramming her head into my hand in a desperate desire for more pats and more cuddles, I shrugged my shoulders at her and obliged, watching as the maelstrom rained down around us. It was almost elegant, in its own chaotic way.  It would be funny if it wasn't so sad.

Before I knew it, the two of them were arguing, back and forth and back and forth without any end in sight. Their insults were veiled by pleasantries that always seemed to get an inch closer to open aggression the more the two of them talked. Always a game of cold politeness, marked by endless attempts to one-up the other. When would they just give it up already? It's not going to change anything.

Whatever, they'd make good politicians.

I stared at the ground, their words building and their meaning colliding. Soon it became a discordance of noise, just another battle to fight through. And honestly? I was so sick of it. So sick of trying to navigate through a constant battle of which I could not honestly care less. But the fact that these two would rather sit here and fight than spend time with me was jarring.

And I thought Alexander was supposed to be better than that.

As the fighting grew louder, the endless screaming pitched at a volume I couldn't tolerate, so did the constant murmuring in my head. The threats and the foretellings and all that came with them, the understanding that my mere presence caused this, caused this hatred and this fighting and this anger. I couldn't take the constant pressure building and building in my head, a record played on repeat but growing more discordant with every loop, more intelligible, and thus, more violent. It seemed like I was plunged into the middle of a war zone from which there was no escape, and I was trapped and lost and utterly alone.

For just one moment, I wanted them to stop.

I wanted everything to stop. Just so I could reorient myself, regain a grip on reality that was slipping so fast. As the voices floated in and out of my mind, endless interruption and constant interference, the world spun until up was down and forward was back. It didn't matter because nothing mattered.

Who was I? Did it even matter anymore, or would everything about me always return to this one single blip of utter confusion and chaos, of unmitigated screams echoing across tight, closed quarters. Did I have an existent outside of the pain I caused, or was my entire being simply meant to drain everyone of their love, just as such had been done for me?

I couldn't breathe. I didn't know how. I didn't know anything, not apart from those ceaseless symphonies created to destroy. There was no anchoring myself to any one voice, for just as I managed to get one's rhythm and cadence down enough to follow its path through the discordance, it became increasingly clear they were speaking in a language I did not understand.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. I couldn't find my grip on reality, my anchor to the ground. I floated further and further down, plunging into those freezing waters, waiting as the world became fuzzy and dull. Colors distorted, faces became meaningless, nothing made any sense. I would drown in this self-induced tide, my name forgotten by the very voices who fought in my "honor" or whatever they assumed they were doing. I would drown here and now, and nobody would ever know, but at least it may put an end to the noise.

Or maybe it'll follow me to the grave. Who can say?

And the violent images of that night came flooding back. That horrible night about a week ago, where the only thing that mattered was making sure nothing did. They were images I'd never be able to forget—the blood coating the knife, the tears blurring my vision, my head growing light as my soul tried to keep itself tethered to my body. And the look in his eyes as he stood over me, that unprecedented panic and concern.

The promise of death, lingering so close with its feather-soft brush and elusive chance at redemption.

The water closed in around me, filling my lungs. My vision dotted with those tiny black blobs that marked the beginning of a bleak future, and I closed my eyes to better resist it, but I don't know why I tried. I would drown here regardless, in the storm of those voices, and that would be the end of it. So I might as well accept my fate.

A sharp, clear voice, something I could cling to, a halo in darkness that I could understand, rang through the noise, a savior in the silence it wrought. It chimed like the sweetest of bells subject to the wind; it flooded over me and filled me with a renewed sense of self.

"Thomas?" Alexander asked, reaching forward to me and placing his hand flat against my arm. Suddenly, the world regained its color, its sense. "Thomas, it's okay! Just breathe!"

I nodded, sliding my hands above my head just as he showed me, gasping for breath. It was like I had been slammed back in my body, and the lines between past and present and inescapable future no longer blurred. I could see again; I could make out the sharp edges of the world, and the memories from that horrible night flitted away like shadows under intense light.

"Thomas?" Aaron asked softly. "What happened? Are you okay?"

I nodded weakly, still unable to speak, and chose instead to focus on the cat sitting in my lap, mewing loudly. Alexander did not once let go of me, not even as I leaned forward to stroke the cat, embarrassment flooding my face just like the tears did as the gazes of so many stared me down.

"Hey, it's alright," Alexander reassured, picking up on my shame. He set his hand on my back, pulling me closer to him as if nobody was watching. "Do you want me to get you something to eat?"

I shook my head, leaning against him for support.

James was suspiciously quiet.

"Thomas?"

"What happened?" Lafayette asked, leaning in, and as he spoke, the voices in the back of my mind started up again.

"I—are you serious?" I asked, not quite snapping, simply because I wasn't angry.

I was tired.

Nobody responded, and I sighed, rubbing my face. I forced myself to take a deep breath, exhaling the noxious fumes caught deep within my lungs. "Listen, I'm so sick of this. You guys wanna, fight? Fine. Then I'll leave. I'm not going to spend the little time I get to myself listening to people speak for me, assuming they know better than I do."

I scooped the kitten up into my arms, refusing to meet anybody's gaze. My body still trembled underneath me, like I had just run a marathon. But that was a mere jog compared to what I was about to do, what I was about to say.

"Do I have any right to be mad? No. I don't. Not after all I've put you guys through. But that doesn't change the fact that it is exhausting to sit through this. I didn't come here to listen to you guys fight. I came here to pet cats and hang out with the people I care about."

I took a deep breath, my shoulders relaxing. I flashed a tiny smile, just so I didn't have to deal with the abyss that I had created. "And Aaron."

"What the fuck did I do?"

"Man, Thomas. You're just really coming for all of us today."

I laughed, shrugging. How could I deprive myself of their presences and return to the darkness, the pathetic hole which I crawled out of? And yet, I had to, because there was simply nowhere else for me to go.

"Thomas," James said carefully. "I do all of this because I love you."

"You know what, James?" I snapped. "You have a very messed up idea of what love is."

There was silence for a moment.

"Alright. This has been fun," I said, letting go of Alexander's hand, even though that was one of the last things I wanted to do, and standing up. "Come on James, we should go. By the way, Laf and John, you two have the best cat in the whole wide world and if anything happens to her I will murder someone."

"Yeah," Lafayette said sarcastically, rolling his eyes slightly. "We also have three more but who cares about them?"

I smiled slightly. "This was fun. We should do this again sometime." I turned to James. "Alright, let's go," I said as I stepped towards the door.

"Hey, wait," Lafayette called, and I turned back to glance at him. "What do you want for your birthday?"

I paused, thinking it over. But of course, the answer came to me immediately. "Books!"

"Ah. Why am I not surprised?"

"I think it would be very nice if all of you got me one book that was very meaningful to you. If you wanted to, of course. You shouldn't feel obligated to get me anything, at all. I won't mind, I promise."

"Oh, I thought our book selections weren't good enough for you?" Angelica grumbled, causing Hercules to cast John a questioning look. The latter shook his head, marking it as unimportant.

"You're really gonna give us a homework assignment?" Aaron asked, smirking.

"Oh, it's okay, Aaron. You don't have to. I mean, I know you can't read and all."

Maria covered her laugh with her hand, while Aaron glared at me with a fondness that couldn't be put into words. "You really just woke up and decided to hate me, huh?"

I shrugged, turning to go once more.

"Stay safe!" Alexander called from behind me. "I'll talk to you later?"

I don't know why I said it. I don't think I cared if James was going to hurt me afterwards, because I knew he was. I don't think I cared about anyone else in the room besides Alexander.

"Of course," I said with a smile. "I'll talk to you later."

~•~

I shut the door behind us, and turned to face James. His fists curled into balls, his face barely masking the rage boiling underneath the surface. I lifted my head, absolutely refusing to let myself be the victim anymore. It's time I started telling my own story, rather than letting others do so for me. Whatever he threw at me, I would take it.

"Well?"

James stared at me, a question written deep within his face.

"What are you waiting for?"

He sighed, that single, intolerable note of disappointment. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain, for the blow, for the tears that would rise even despite my iron-clad determination to not display any weakness, to weather his anger and his hatred.

But the blow never came.

In fact, when I opened my eyes again, he was walking back to his own room.

I sunk to the floor and let out a breath of relief.