//TW: manipulation, abuse, swearing, memories of attempted suicide\|

James

Every morning is the same.

I wake, the boy I'd sacrifice entire worlds for laying in bed besides me, mine in every sense of the word. He is love, he is safety, he is warmth. He is the song I have always heard only faintly in the background, but the moment he returned into my life, into my arms, it as if that song has exploded to life, unafraid to make its melody heard. I have won.  I have everything I have ever wanted and I have it guaranteed, a promise he willingly made that will forever bind our fates together even after we are long gone from this miserable world.

I have Thomas, the only thing I have ever wanted, and everything else that encompasses, and yet, I still feel so cold.

It's an unending nightmare, this cold plague that has so completely swept over my body and soul, digging its frozen claws far past my skin and deep into my heart. It follows me everywhere, that intolerable humming in the back of my mind, forever reminding me of its damnable presence as it whispers and whispers and promises me that it will never let me be. I cannot exist without its dreadful tune, interfering with Thomas's gorgeous song.

There must be something wrong with me, to ever let myself fall victim to that deplorable tone, only worsened by those memories of that night, of that sudden and terrible bolt of fear that cleaved through my chest. I still shudder as I think about it, the subject of my dreams for too long and for no discernible reason.

God, I had never been so terrified as I did that night, forced to watch as Thomas laid there, gasping for breath. My body had frozen and I had hesitated and I had watched him struggle to hold onto his last breaths, the knife laying lifeless but satisfied at his side. He had been smiling, his mouth moving in what I had thought been a silent prayer. But that doesn't make sense, for Thomas has never believed in that kind of stuff, preferring to walk his own path and carve his own fate. But now, looking back on it, I wonder how I could have possibly missed the song he sang for himself, the hushed lullaby he offered the world in sweet farewell as he drew his last few breaths.

That one word rings through my ears, hardly a yell, hardly anything more than a whisper that has given up all hope.

H-help?

And I had come.

And horror fills me as that small, insignificant part of my brain wonders what could have happened if I had not been there. What I could have seen if I had returned home only a few minutes later, if I had not responded to that call.

I forced the thought from my mind, and my breathing should have come easier, but it did not. There was nothing in my head but that image of a lifeless shell of the boy I'd given so much up for already. There was nothing but that pressing fear that has so easily carved a home for itself in the very core of my being, a newly realized terror at how empty my life would be should Thomas leave it. How could he ever think to do that to me?

"Relax, James," I whispered to myself as I hurried through the streets, my hands shaking as I tried not to let my mind wander too far. Especially with the knowledge that Thomas was currently by himself right now, subject to whatever whims and fantasies would rise from the depths. That's the thing about Thomas. He doesn't think before he makes a decision. He is so quick to fly away just as things get hard, like a bird seeking a refuge that does not exist. He always searches for the quickest route out of the self-imposed darkness, no matter what it takes.

He is a bird, but a flightless bird. And when he comes crashing down to the cold, cruel earth, who will be there but me to offer him his last sense of safety, his last chance for a home?

My clothes stuck to my body as the rain poured down from the sky above, a deep thunder rolling through the air like the beat of a foreboding song. I shivered, unable to understand how this miserable city could still be so cold even as spring shook the world, offering redemption, a chance of new life. But here we were, freezing, as yet another storm darkened the evening sky.

I just couldn't wait to get home, to see my Thomas again. All day, I've been thinking of the night before, of his easily-won laugh he hid behind his hand, his brilliant smile as it brightened the world around him. The world could have stopped moving when he smiled, and I would not have noticed, as glued as I was to the sight of it. When had been the last time I had made him smile like that, laugh for the sake of it?

My mind replayed the witty remarks he snapped out over and over, marveling at how quick he had been to think them up, like nothing has changed when everything so obviously has. It was a flash as potent as the lightning that filled the sky around me, a memory of the boy that he was before that had been drawn so quick out of the deepest corners it had been hidden in. As hard as I tried, I could not chase away the memory of his smile, and it filled me with a warmth and a vitality that nothing else has been able to do, not even the physical touch I had managed to wring out of him as we laid there, side by side, in the comfort of our bed. 

He's so happy when he's with his friends. He smiles, he jokes, he laughs. He's happy. And honestly? He's adorable when he's happy. I like it when he's happy. I want him to be happy more often.

But is it really too much to ask for to be the one he's so happy with? I just want to be the reason he smiles, the reason he jokes, the reason he laughs. I want to be the reason he's happy.

But at the same time, what cost will that come at? What will I have to give up to see his joy spread out for the world, fluttering by on Icarus's wax wings so close to melting? 

I can't lose him.

Do you know what that would do to me? How quickly it would kill me, to wake up once more with the entire world bleak and empty and utterly lifeless? The loss of his wonderful presence, the last meaningful thing left in my life, would absolutely destroy me and I would have nothing left.

You don't understand.

Thomas is the only person who's ever loved me. Who's ever respected me and looked up to me. Who's ever been by my side when I needed him.

Thomas is the only person alive who will ever miss me should I disappear.

I can't lose him.

I can't lose the one person who's ever treated me like I'm someone important.

He's the only person who makes me feel special. He's the only person I love, and he's the only person I care about.

I need him.

The rain continued to pour around me as I stared down at my phone, my message unread, much less answered. Dread climbed through my throat, only worsened as the thunder rolled once more. It was one of those days, one of those days that just screamed of foreboding and emptiness. With such a dark sky, what else could one feel but the faint touch of death lingering so close? So I picked up my pace as I wound my way through the crowd of other people caught in the relentless rain.

The sooner I get home, the sooner I see him, the happier we can all be. The happier I can be, once more knowing that he will forever be mine and I will never lose him. I will keep him tight in my arms and refuse to let go of him, breathing in the scent of his perfume, and promise myself that no matter what, I will keep the dying embers of our love alive.

But, then again, if it ever comes down to it? I'd much rather he be dead than in the arms of somebody else.

I need him. I cannot lose him, and if it comes down to it, I will kill to keep him as mine. I know it sounds psychotic, but we all do crazy things for the people we love.

And I'm not going to let him slip through my fingers again.

Before you judge me, ask yourself this, what would you do in my place? What would you do if the only person you loved was slowly leaving you, being torn from your grasp bit by bit?

I'm doing what I have to do in order to keep him as mine.

I'm not going to lose him again.

I can't.

Because if I lose Thomas, what else is there for me?

I would fracture in all the most grotesque ways, a long-forgotten statue overgrown with the greedy ivy tentacles pooling in from the deepest expandes of the forest. I would become nothing and nobody, the only person who remembers my name now walking amongst the stars he loves so much. And the sky would become so much darker, knowing that the boy I love is up there, forever hidden from my view.

So, no. I cannot lose him. It's not a thought I will even entertain.

Soon, I escaped the rain, slamming the door of our building behind me and letting the warmth of the building pool into me. I shook off the water still clinging to my clothes, and cast a disgruntled but what I hoped passed as friendly look at the receptionist. He returned my smile, and I stepped past without a word, into the elevator and closer to my home, my Thomas.

The ride seemed to drag on, the close confines of the elevator pressing in on me as it slowly rose through the building. And with those tight walls came the thoughts I had tried so hard to push down, but now, in the relative silence, they had nowhere to go but fill the air around me. I had nothing else to drown them out, but I tried to focus on pretty much everything else.

Finally, the elevator stopped moving, and the doors opened. I hurried down the hall as quick as I could go, some unspoken part of me dreading what could wait beyond this door. So many outcomes, and so few of them pleasant. All the figures from my nightmares came bubbling up to the surface, gripping my attention in their iron-laced claws as I carefully inserted the key and unlocked the door.

"Thomas? I'm home," I called out, more gentle than I usually do as I entered our dorm.

I took in a deep breath of the familiar, comforting air and waited for a response. I set my bag down on the ground, then frowned as I realized I had been answered only by the thick silence cascading down on the world. My stomach churned, and although I forced my voice to remain calm, there was undoubtedly a piece of fear that broke through.

"Thomas?" I called again, panic making my words harsh. I didn't meant for it to be shaped by so much violence, but intention hardly changes anything.

Once more, the silence yielded no answers. My fingers stilled, and thunder grumbled its discontent outside our window. This was the perfect kind of night for such an imperfect kind of monstrosity.

No. I will not let this happen again. I cannot walk into his bedroom to find him laying on the floor, the life draining out of him so completely. Not again. I could not bear it.

"Thomas!" I called, marching to his door and trying to throw it open. But it wouldn't budge, locked firmly, and giving no signs of opening soon. I hissed a curse under my breath and tried to coerce it open. "Thomas?"

There was a hushed silence followed by a quick, "Hi," that had come from his room.

I let out a breath of relief, practically sagging against the door in a vain hope it could support my weight. The worry in my stomach didn't exactly dissipate, but the knot became looser, and I managed to push it into the back of my mind. I straightened, the sudden desire to see him surging through my chest.

"Thomas?" I asked, moving over to his door and knocking gently. "Can I please come in?"

"Uh... no."

"Thomas!"

"I'm not doing anything interesting! I'm just... painting."

"Thomas," I asked, the words thick with a poorly concealed threat now that the panic had abated. "Should you be doing something you know you aren't supposed to be doing?"

"No, James," he returned softly. "I'm painting."

"I have a key, you know." And, to prove my point, I fished the key to his room out of my pocket and unlocked the door, desperate to remove the last obstacle standing between us. I needed to see his smile, I needed to feel the warmth rolling off of him in droves. I needed the world to become right again, something that could not be accomplished with all that has happened. Once everything goes back to the perfect way it was before Alexander has come and fucked up our lives, we can be happy, and we can be whole, and we can be the way we were always meant to be.

Like two interlocking pieces, carved for one another.

"James, please. Just trust me?" Thomas begged softly, his words mostly muffled by the door and all the space between us. "I just need some time to myself."

I rolled my eyes and opened the door, regardless of his desires. The soft pitter patter of rain sung through the room, the fresh scent of new earth wafting through the air. I blinked, my eyes drawn to the open window, before Thomas shot to his feet to hide his desk from my view, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. I stared at him, his guilty eyes locked on the floor, and something filled my stomach once more.

"What did you do this time?" I snapped.

Thomas didn't answer, his gaze hardening.

"Just another mess for me to clean up, I'm assuming?"

Thomas stiffened, as if everything in the world converged around him, pointing a million sharpened blades at his throat and threatened to slice it open until red trickled freely, all unless he did what their cruel whims wanted. I shivered at the thought, forced it out of my mind, and allowed myself to soften, something I rarely did anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said, the words not easily won from my throat. "I had a long day. I didn't mean to yell at you. But you know how much I hate it when you keep things from me."

A split of lightning filled the room, washing it with an intense white light that Thomas seemed to wilt under, like a flower drowning in the surplus of rain. Once more, he stayed quiet, only fueling my growing frustration now that worry was so far removed from my mind.

"Are you going to answer me, or am I going to stand here, talking to myself?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, clutching his hands behind his back. A single note filled the air, and he winced, his betrayal on the cusp of being discovered. I tried to peer around him, desperate to see what trivial thing he coveted now, some little possession he did not need, but Thomas stayed, unmoving.

"Okay... what do you have, Thomas?"

"Nothing," he returned, the single word seeming as though it came from the truest part of himself. He stared at the floor, his posture perfect, face unchanging, and his body still as stone. If I didn't know any better, I would have assumed he was frozen in time, a melody always to be started but never to be finished. Those are the worst kinds of melodies, when you are filled with anticipation and a curiosity that will forever go unsolved as you await an end that will not come.

"Thomas."

"It's nothing," he insisted, a chord of desperation striking his tone.

How stupid did he think I was? "Then let me see."

"James, please, trust me for once. There's nothing behind me—" A chirp cut into his words and he winced. Then, he stared at the ground as he slowly moved away, revealing a few things. One, a sketchpad lay on the table next to some watercolor paints. It was a drawing of a bird, and the base colors had been painted already. Second, and most important, was a birdcage. Inside it, a bird.

Its coloration was that of a deep gray, bordering brown, with a white stomach and white bands marking its feathers. It was a lithe but fragile thing, stationed precariously on the perch in its opened cage. I watched it as it watched the world, full of awe, full of wonder. It let out another sharp trill upon seeing me, tilting its head in that idle curiosity, its song reminiscent of a car horn.

A mockingbird.

A wild bird.

And a flightless one, for its wing was tied tight to its body with medical tape.

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Thomas? What did you do?" I demanded, running my fingers through my hair. I took a step closer, and Thomas's entire body tensed as he stared at me, waiting for my next move. How intense that stare was, way more than it had any right to be, it seemed.

"I—" he began, but I swiftly cut him off before I had to listen to any of his utter bullshit.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I demanded, approaching the cage one step at a time. Thomas threw himself in front of it, into the path of my anger, as if he thought he could protect the bird from me and my wrath.

Yeah, right. He could hardly protect himself.

"Move," I demanded. "What made you think bringing a wild animal back into our home was a good idea? Are you stupid, or something? Give me the fucking bird and just let me take care of this."

"No."

The single syllable drifted through the air, one I was not accustomed to hearing. I faltered as it washed over me, and in that moment of vulnerability, Thomas softened but refused to move.

"I won't let you hurt him," he managed out softly, but that spark of a fire I frankly did not like still burned in his eyes.

"Stop being ridiculous, Thomas." I rolled my eyes, fingers curling into fists. "Let me see the damned thing. You already know you can't keep it, right? So what's the fucking point?"

"If you touch him, James, then I will never speak to you again."

I scoffed, not allowing myself to acknowledge the sudden burst of fear that overwhelmed my chest at the thought. "What are you? A child?"

Thomas refused to meet my gaze just as he refused to move, the only thing between me and the bird. It chirped again, seeming to sense the tension and its steely grip on the room.

"I will not let you hurt him," he finally choked out, sounding as though he was doing everything in his power to triumph above the tears and their vicious onslaught. He lifted his head, a soldier posed to strike, and in that moment, I became truly terrified of the bubble of anger that had slowly rose to the surface, mere seconds away from popping.

He knew what I would do. He knew what I ached to do, to extinguish the only light from the world that he did not already derive from me. It wasn't fucking fair, with all that I had done for him, to be replaced by the first goddamned thing thrown his way. He knew how easily the bird's body would snap under my fingers, and the thought of it, for a mere moment, made me want to vomit.

"Thomas," I said softly, but sure to make my disappointment clearer than ever.

"His wing is broken, okay? I couldn't leave him to die all by himself! I had to take care of him, alright? I couldn't just let him die! I'm going to take care of him and nurse him back to health! And I don't care what you say! I am keeping this bird!"

"Thomas, let's be rational—"

"I don't want to be rational! This bird is going to die if I don't take care of him and I'm not going to let that happen! You can hurt me all you want but I'm not going to let you kill him!"

"Thomas—"

"Isn't it enough?" he demanded, his voice raw with the sobs that struck at his words. Thomas's lingering gaze beseeched mine, his body crumbling under itself. Another crackle of lightning lit the sky, illuminating the fire in his eyes that blazed unapologetically, and the thunder that followed was still not enough to speak over him. "I've given up everything for you. I've surrendered my happiness, I've resigned myself to the fate of never truly knowing what love is supposed to feel like. I've done every last thing you've asked, and you still take."

I stared at him, the words taken right from my mouth. Thomas stepped backwards, never taking his eyes off of me as he lifted the bird out of its cage and gently cupped it in his hands. It was so...strange, how seemingly natural it was for him, as if he was born to speak to the birds, born to touch the sky with nothing but intangible wings and a softly whispered prayer. He would grace the sky and he would leave me behind and I should have been used to that by now, but the sad truth was that I simply wasn't.

"I am going to save him," Thomas hissed out, finding power in the weakness that pervaded his choked breath. "I don't care what you think."

When I didn't answer, too overcome by the suffocating silence that he had brought down upon us, Thomas pressed on, keeping the bird shielded from me. Is this how he truly saw me, then? A violent monster who only aches to hurt those he is supposed to love and protect?

"Please, James!" he begged, his voice cracking. The bravado from the moment earlier disappeared, leaving only the broken shell of a boy clinging onto the last shreds of his humanity, his will to fight and keep burning in an oppressive darkness. "This is all I have. You can't honestly mean to take this from me too. I'll do anything you want me to, I promise, just let me keep him."

I sighed. "Do you really need it? Can't you take it to a vet or something? A trained professional who actually knows how to take care of it?"

Thomas sighed and looked down, already knowing he had lost. "Yeah," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I guess I could do that. I'm sorry."

I couldn't handle it. I couldn't handle the way he stared at the ground, fresh tears marking their path down his face. I couldn't handle the unsteady breathing, the absence of his brilliant smile, the way he lowered the bird and ran his fingers across its back as if in apology. I couldn't handle the fear and the sorrow and the longing that overwhelmed my Thomas.

I couldn't sit here and tear away the thing that made him happy. It wasn't fair to him, and if it bound him to me all the tighter, than perhaps it could be good for both of us. He ached as much as I did for the simplicity of love, happy to take it in whatever form it came in. And the way he stared at me, eyes still glimmering with under-spoken hope, waiting for my approval, waiting for me to offer him a glimpse of the boyfriend I should be and the love I should provide, the boyfriend that Thomas deserves.

The rest of me broke. "Fine! You can keep it!"

He paused, a mere moment of hesitation as he waited for the catch, the stipulation, the trade-off. But, when it didn't come, a light filled his eyes, a light akin to the glow of a million stars coming to life all at once the second the sun and its oppressive, intense light faded from view and allowed them to finally shine the way they had longed to. The smile that graced his face captivated my attention, stealing my breath away and making me forget even the most glaring wall that sat between us.

And in those few seconds, I knew I had made the right decision.

"R-really?" he whispered, his breath catching in equal parts excitement and doubt. He hugged the bird close to his body, as if depending on it for support while simultaneously promising to protect it should it all be just one more trick. "I can...I can keep him?" Carefully, he set the injured, fragile creature back down on the table.

"Yes," I sighed, exasperated. What the fuck was I getting myself into? "But it is your responsibility, not mine. And if you or that bird steps out of line, the bird goes, understand?"

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, lunging forward and pulling me into a hug.

My tensed body relaxed on its own free will, as the cure to the ailment that was this constant freezing chill seeped through my body. I breathed in the scent of his perfume, soaked in the feeling of his body against mine, the way it always should have been. I wrapped my arms around him and pulled him tighter, taking sweet refuge in his affection while also relief that he had finally chosen me the way he always should have. For a brief moment, Thomas was undoubtedly, unapologetically mine.

For a brief moment, he was happy because of me.

Then he let go of me, quickly uttered an apology, and turned back to his bird.

It stung, how quick he was to forget me. How quick he was to pass me along for something else. But the bird's sweet melody filled the air, coupled by the slightly breathless laugh of the boy I had loved with all of my heart, and I let the anger melt away.

I watched Thomas for a moment before sitting down besides him. "What's its name?"

Thomas paused, considering. There was much power in a name, the door to one's soul, to one's mind. How willing was he to offer me the key to this door, especially with as vulnerable as the creature was in its suddenly flightless state? It felt wrong, as well, to observe a bird that should be flitting amongst the clouds and carried by the breeze, to have lost the main tool it needs to achieve its true purpose.

"Dick."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"That's his name," Thomas said affectionately, quickly glancing at me before turning back to the bird. "His name is Dick."

I opened my mouth to argue with him, but closed it again. There was probably no point, he was already attached. "Dick?"

"Mhmm. It's a common name and I like it."

"Are you sure that— oh never mind."

"Ooh!" he exclaimed suddenly, grabbing the bag of bird food that was lying on the desk next to him. "He likes to eat out of my hands, watch." Thomas placed a seed on his hand and held it out for the bird. Much to my amusement, the bird hopped onto Thomas's hand and pecked the seed up, then let out a chirp.

"Where'd you find him?" I asked, because it felt important to know in ways I'd never be able to describe. A part of me imagined the bird, crying out for help amidst a terrible storm raging all around us, its last hope fleeting and its life shortened to a few painful minutes. And then, of course, I imagined Thomas finding the bird, scooping it up into his hands and instantly falling in love with such an unremarkable, insignificant creature. But that's Thomas for you.

Did he see himself in the bird? Did he liken himself to the victim, seconds away from losing his last grip on this mortal world?

I wanted to know, needed to understand.

Thomas faltered. "I—I was coming back from class, when I saw him. His wing was broken, and I couldn't just leave him there. To die," Thomas whispered, suddenly growing solemn at the thought. He ran his fingers gently down the bird's back, not daring to look at me. "Thank you. For letting me keep him."

"Of course, just don't make me regret this, okay?"

"Okay."

I sighed. "Well, you have fun with your bird. If you need me, I'll be in my room, okay?"

"Okay."

"Thomas?" I said after standing up.

He looked up at me.

"I do love you, okay? Please don't forget that. You mean so much to me and I could never lose you."

Thomas stared at me for a moment before ducking his head. "Okay, James. I love you too."

"That's my Tommy." I cupped his head in my hands and kissed him gently before turning and leaving him alone to his bird.

I'm not going to lose him.

No matter what it takes.