//TW: swearing, nightmares, PTSD||

Alexander

A scream tore itself from my mouth, scratching along my throat as it escaped into the still, quiet air of the dark bedroom. Sticky sweat was plastered to my face even despite the chill that had managed to invade from the outside, never content with what it was given. My heart pounded in my chest as the dying remnants of the nightmare flashed through my mind like lightning, but blurred just like rain. Through it all, I could only pick out the bare outline of a puzzle with pieces long missing and it just didn't make sense and—

"Alexander?"

I jumped at the nearness of the voice, clutching the blanket close to my chest as if it could protect me. But the nightmare faded and the real world filled the gaps it left, and the shapeless, bodiless voice took form to reveal Thomas sitting on the edge of my bed, a hand barely brushing against my arm. Something traitorous inside of me instantly relaxed just at the sight of his face, at the sound of his voice. The stupid, naïve boy that had gained control of my mind let my guard falter for a second, let the walls come crashing down for him.

I forced myself to breathe, finding an easy repetition that was strong enough to hold onto without splintering under my tightened grasp. "Th-Thomas?" No, oh God, no. I turned away so he wouldn't have to see me with the stupid, sweaty palms and the unhidden tears burning in the corners of my eyes no matter how hard I tried to ignore them. I turned away so he wouldn't have to see me as some broken mess haunted by things that happened years ago and people that nobody but me remembered.

"Are you...are you okay?" His voice shook, hardly hiding a heavy layer of panic and desperation pushed down just below the surface. "What happened?"

I shook my head, trying to get hold of my bearings, and inched a bit away from him. "I'm fine," I said, far harsher than I meant to be, and I hope the look of hurt flashing across his gaze, just perceivable in the shroud of darkness, was imagined. "Leave me alone."

My arm had been millimeters away from his fingers, millimeters away from his warmth, millimeters away from Thomas, but his hand returned to his side and it all disappeared at once. I forced myself to stay still, to not reach for his hand like I longed to do. He tore away some bits of the fear and replaced it with...well, I don't know. Something nice. Something comforting that I so desperately wanted to fall into, like a warm, unending embrace.

"Alexander?" he asked softly, inching away and leaving a distance far too wide between the two of us. "Did something happen?"

"No. I'm fine. Just go back to sleep, okay? You can leave me alone." My insisting sounded pathetic even to me.

Thomas's shoulders fell as he watched me carefully, and I found myself looking anywhere but his face.

"I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"You were crying," he responded, his voice hardly above a whisper as he avoided the question and somehow managed to answer it at the same time. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. But if you want me to go, I'll leave." He stood up, taking all the warmth and all the comfort away with him. Instinct must have fueled my actions because the next thing I knew, I had my hand wrapped tightly around his, begging him silently to stay.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you," I said as he stopped in his tracks.

"You didn't snap at me," he returned, falling back to the bed in quiet obedience. My eyes adjusted to the darkness enough to make out his patient, brown eyes waiting for something. For me, I guess.

"I did. And it wasn't fair."

"Alexander, you're allowed to not want anybody to see you vulnerable."

"I'm not vulnerable!" I protested, only proving that vulnerable was the perfect word to describe the state the cruel, unforgiving dream had thrown me into even as it floated upwards and dissolved in the heavy air.

Thomas said nothing for a moment, choosing to ignore what was most obvious. I had to thank him for that. "You had me worried, that's all."

"You don't have to worry about me." I don't know why, but the thought of Thomas spending an ounce of his time concerning himself with just another thing clawed at something deep within me. I shifted away, back pressed against the wall, when in reality, I just wanted to be closer to him.

"But I do," he responded. "And I will."

"I'm fine."

"You know you don't have to be."

"I'm fine," I said, forcing myself to laugh but it fell miles flat and we both could see that easily. Thomas didn't sigh nor did he flinch, but he pulled his legs underneath him and watched me carefully, quietly, as if he could find something inside of me to answer his question if he just looked hard enough.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," I returned, suddenly noting the tears sliding down the sides of my cheeks and wiping them away, along with the last remaining pieces of a shattered memory that belonged to the past. The distant past. The past so inconsequential it wasn't even worth remembering. That part of my life was over and I didn't need to even think about it anymore.

"That's okay."

It wasn't okay. How could it ever be okay? If I was hardly strong enough to acknowledge the ghosts of people that never stopped haunting me, how in the world would I be able to face what was solid and real? How would I be able to protect Thomas if I cried and screamed at bad dreams like a petulant, terrified child?

That thought only made it worse. That one, single thought of being a child, protected and safe and blind to a world of heartache. It was enough to make me completely surrender control, and before I knew it, I was sobbing once more. They tore straight from my throat and ripped through the air, and there was nothing I could do to hold them back. So like the child I was deep inside underneath layers of an exterior I couldn't keep up anymore, I gave into them.

"Hey, Alexander," Thomas said softly but immediately, touching my shoulder with the promise of all the things he would gladly offer me if I just asked. "Hey, it's okay! Everything's going to be okay. I'm here." He placed his hands against my arms, rooting me to the moment, keeping me steady.

I ducked my face so he wouldn't see the weakness and the complete cowardice that betrayed me to the world. But Thomas didn't once shift away, didn't recoil as if merely touching me would spread the plague. He stayed right there, a constant reminder of all the good things still left in the world, and his voice was real, unlike most perfect things in this world.

"Do you want me to hug you?" Thomas asked after a moment of gentle consolations, ones I didn't deserve and unfairly hoarded to myself.

Somehow, between the bursts of sobs and flashing images striking through my mind of her, of a time where things made a hundred times more sense, I managed to nod. And Thomas didn't hesitate in the slightest. He leaned forward, encircled his arms around my body, and pulled me close. And it was the safest I've felt in what must have been thousands of years. I clung tightly to him, terrified that if I loosened my grip, he would disappear, and I would be back at square one.

But he held me for what felt like hours and seconds, and there was no place I'd rather be. He held me and a part of the fear inside died, the fear that mumbled that I wasn't good enough for him. He held me and everything felt right.

Thomas whispered soft reassurances close to my ear, his body relaxed in my grip. I buried my face in the crook of his neck and lost myself to the comfort he provided. It was so tangible and he smelled so sweet, just like roses, and I couldn't hold myself back from loosing all of my emotions into him. And he took them and he held me and he never once shifted, never once let me go. His arms were a haven wrapped around my body so perfectly, as if we were made to interlock together.

For the moment, the slightest, softest moment that I knew neither of us would acknowledge in the morning, nothing else in the world existed but us.

Finally, I forced myself to pull away, because his warmth was nothing more than a drug I could easily get addicted to if I wasn't careful enough. The sweetest, most wonderful of drugs, but dangerous nonetheless. Thomas retrieved a tissue that he offered to me, and with a short, ironic laugh, I accepted it and wiped at my eyes.

"I'm sorry," I managed, my throat hoarse and my voice weak from the litany of tears I had been unable to hold at bay. "I'm so fucking sorry. That shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have been so fucking stupid."

"Hey. You're not stupid," Thomas murmured, his voice just like the gentle night song of the crickets and the leaves rustling in the breeze. He nudged me softly, his fingers finding mine and intertwining together. "It's okay, Alexander. You have absolutely nothing to apologize for."

I nodded, staring at our connected hands for a moment too long. Then, shaking my head, I shifted and turned on the lamp on the table to my left. A blinding, yellow light filled my vision, and I blinked back against it before I could adjust. The world came in clearer, sharper images, leaving no darkened corners for the nightmares to creep into. I chased away the last of the fragments still spinning in my head, realized I was shaking and forced myself to stop, and breathed in a deep gasp.

Thomas watched me with a reassuring smile that never once wavered. His thumb gently caressed the palm of my hand, though I'd be extremely surprised if he was even aware he was doing it. Still, I savored the touch and said nothing, hoping it could last for just a few moments longer.

"Bad dream?" Thomas asked, as understanding as if it had happened to him millions of times before. It probably had. The only difference between the two of us was that for him, the line between nightmare and reality had been so blurred and contrived. For me, it was bold and easily seen. That didn't make it easy but it wasn't as bad as what Thomas had to go through, and I had to be strong for him. Stronger than I was right now.

For a moment, I considered lying, but realized quickly that there was no point to it. He knew exactly what had happened and it wouldn't do any good to say otherwise. He'd see through any attempt I made to dissuade him as if it were as thin as silk.

So I nodded, gazing down at the plain, gray blanket and wishing I could hide underneath it. Like a child. Tears swelled up to my eyes but I did my best to force them back, gasping for breath as if I had been held underwater.

"I'm sorry."

Thomas squeezed my hand. "You don't have to apologize."

I nodded again.

"You should probably try and get some sleep. Do you want me to bring you anything? Water? Something to eat?"

I shrugged, not trusting my voice to remain neutral. I could feel his gaze on me, warm and unrelentingly so, and I tried my best not to squirm. It almost felt like he was dissecting me, taking me apart to inspect everything inside. And I was terrified he wouldn't like what he found.

"Okay," Thomas said, letting go of my hand. "Well, goodnight, Alexander. Try and get some sleep, and if you need me, I'll be in the other room."

"Wait, please don't go!" I exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm once more as if that was enough to make him stay. It wasn't, and it never would be, and it was both selfish and stupid to try and chain him down. And yet, my fingers fit so nicely around his wrist. Thomas's eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, he said nothing. I swallowed down the holes in my confidence as something pathetic teetered over the line, threatening to spill out of my mouth. "Please don't leave me alone right now. Just, stay? A few minutes longer?"

"Okay," he said softly. "I'll stay."

I let go of him, suddenly unsure of myself and my stupid, childish request. "Thank you," I managed out. Thomas sat down on the edge of the bed, and I curled my legs underneath my body so he didn't have to feel how cold I was.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head.

"It might make you feel better." A pause. "But you don't have to, if you don't want to."

I nodded, leaning back against the pillows and closing my eyes against the still-burning lamp. My heart continued to beat furiously in my chest, though I had no idea why. The dream was gone and so should have been my anxiety, my fear.

"You know," Thomas said after a moment. His voice was light and fragile, something that could easily be taken away by the wind if I didn't grasp onto what he was saying hard enough. The way I perked up as he spoke was automatic, an action I hardly realized I had done until later. "When I had nightmares as a kid, uh, my dad used to make me play the violin."

The meaning of the words soaked in a few seconds later. I blinked as they died on the air, only just realizing the impact they carried. Thomas shifted, staring up at my ceiling as if looking for a sky checkered by stars. A sigh escaped his mouth but he continued anyway.

"It was the only thing that managed to calm me down, you know? Being able to lose myself in the music." He fiddled with his hands, but he glanced at me and offered me another warm, breathtaking smile. "It's like a safe space for me, I guess."

"Oh," I replied lamely, absolutely hating myself for my inability to provide a decent answer. Thomas didn't seem to mind though, for his smile never faded. I clung onto it like a moth to a flickering, dying flame, always wondering if it would be the last glorious thing I'd ever have to myself. "Do you still talk to him?"

Thomas laughed. Well, it wasn't really a laugh. It was more like one of those chuckles you indulged in when words weren't enough, when an unarticulated sorrow creeped in and tore down any chance of happiness, so laughter was the only way you could deal with it.

"Uh, he died, actually. About six years ago."

"Oh, shit, Thomas. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean, well, uh, I didn't realize—"

"It's okay." The three syllables were so genuine, so pure. He gripped my hand tighter, both for reassurance and to find his own sense of comfort, one I was more than happy to supply. "Really. It's okay."

And something inside of me cracked. A wall I didn't know I had erected fell down in a massive heap as the memories chased away by his hug slowly crept back in, this time more relenting, more cautious. "My, uh, my mom used to do the same thing." The sentence came rushing out before I had any grasp on the situation, fleeing from a locked chest hidden deep within me. But once it was out, blending in with the real world, I couldn't stop myself. The words came pouring and I had no way of stopping them. "Well, kinda. She had this, umm, this lullaby that she sang for me when I was a kid." I ran my hands through my hair, eyes pricking with tears at the pain of the memories. My voice caught in my throat but I forced myself through. "She's gone, too. Died when I was ten. God, I haven't heard it in so long."

"Do you remember the name of it?" Thomas asked quietly after a moment. "I'll play it for you."

My shoulders caved inwards as the ugly admission escaped my lips. "No. I don't." It seemed like I had let a piece of my mother die simply by forgetting the song she had invented, the words she had offered me when nobody else cared.

But Thomas didn't mind. "That's okay. I'll play something for you anyway." He stood up, flashing me another smile with the quiet promise of a quick return. I watched him disappear through the door, instantly hungering for all the things he took away with him, and didn't relax until he came back, brandishing the violin and the bow.

"Any requests?"

I shook my head, biting down on my tongue. Anything that came from Thomas was wonderful. Too good for me, too good for this wretched world. "Something sweet," I said after a moment, already going back on my previous answer two seconds before. "Something happy."

"I like happy songs too," Thomas reassured as he tuned the instrument. He closed his eyes and positioned the violin under his chin. Heaving a deep breath that carried with it the weight of the memories we'd both rather let fly away in the wind, Thomas pressed his fingers against the strings and brought the bow down.

A gorgeous note filled the air.

It wasn't long before Thomas began to spin entire worlds out of nothing. He painted vivid images of a garden with bright flowers surrounding a pond that glimmered in the morning sun. Marble columns that branched up into the heavens with ivy creeping up their sides. A field with wide, rolling hills stretching out under a sapphire sky, as far as the eye could see.

All this he created and all of it was mine. Ours. It would never grace the ears of anybody else, and as selfish as I was, I was perfectly okay with that, for I was afraid that the song could lose part of its meaning if somebody stole in on it.

He crafted a story with the music, a delicate, beautiful story I had never heard before just as I had heard it thousands of times. A story of warmth and comfort, the kind of love a mother has for her child. The song was a guardian, chasing away all the terrible dreams and memories that had reduced me to nothing but a mess. It built me back up, albeit slowly, repairing wounds I had thought were unfixable as it restored memories I thought I had lost.

I felt like I could breathe for the first time.

Thomas poured himself into all that he created in those wordless five minutes. As his fingers glided across the neck of the instrument, his eyes glistened with the fresh thoughts of something previously forgotten.

His song was ours, and I was his, and he was mine.

At least for the moment. At least until the final note blossomed and then withered, leaving me both satisfied and desperate for more. The ghost of the melody hung heavily in the air, leaving both of us to revel in the beauty of the thing he had created. Thomas stayed stock-still, fingers still pressed against the strings, violin still placed precariously under his neck.

"Thank you," I whispered as the song fell away, its last echoes reverberating through my mind and then disappearing forever. Nothing else would ever match it, second for second, note for note. Beautiful creation for beautiful creation.

"My pleasure."

"Play something else?"

Thomas laughed gently, brought the bow back to the violin, and happily obliged.

I could have stayed there for hours, for centuries, his soft-spoken lullaby the only thing I'd ever need to be happy again. I would have if the rest of the world hadn't gotten in the way, but it did. Because of course it would. Nothing would ever be the way I wanted it, not for as long as I needed it to be.

But Thomas was unchanging, an anchor keeping me secure against the most berating of storms. And I was happy to have him apart of every moment I could keep him in.

My eyelids grew heavy as I stared up at the ceiling during the end of Thomas's fourth song, listening and letting the music carry me away to a better world. A dream where everything made a lot more sense. I teetered over the brink of sleep and the waking world, trying to cling onto the song as if it was a solid, but it was fleeting and fading through my fingers, and a heaviness tugged at the back of my mind.

The music ended gradually, leaving the world emptier in its wake as it always did. I closed my eyes, breathing in deep and fighting back a yawn.

"Are you going to go to bed?" Thomas asked after a moment.

"I—I mean..." I trailed off, unable to finish.

"I'll see you in the morning, Alexander."

I shot up, grabbing his arm, keeping him as long as I could. Thomas blinked at me, pausing, and I frowned, sighed, forced myself to let go. "I'm gonna hate myself for asking this. But...could you please stay with me for tonight?"

Thomas blinked, and then smiled once more. "I'll stay."

"Thank you." I relaxed, sliding back against the mattress and turning off the lights. After setting the violin down gently on my desk at my command, Thomas curled his legs against his chest and pressed himself against the wall. I opened my mouth to offer him a more comfortable position under the blanket, then thought better of it. He looked happy anyway, curled into a tiny ball secure from the world passing him by.

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Alexander. Sleep well. And I'll be right here if you need me."

He fell asleep a few moments later, and so did I, comforted by the thought that he would be right beside me when I woke up.

I prayed to whatever god above us that it wasn't all just a dream.

~•~

My eyes opened to greet the gentle morning light seeping in through the windows. I blinked, gaze landing upon the boy still curled up on the foot of my bed, and drew in a deep breath as the memories of the night before came flooding back.

Oh God. I was out of my fucking mind last night, wasn't I? Shit, what the fuck was wrong with me?

Squashing the regret and embarrassment down to the back of my mind so I didn't have to deal with them and the confusion they generated just this second, I kicked off the layers of blanket and leaned forwards to better inspect Thomas's sleeping form. He remained curled up into a tight ball, his knees pressed to his chest with his chin resting on top of them. I winced; that couldn't have been comfortable in the slightest. But still, I couldn't look away, couldn't help the sensations blooming to life in my chest, as though my heart was doing some insane acrobatics or something.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, when Thomas is sleeping, everything is caught in a state of pure bliss and peace. When Thomas is sleeping, nothing else in the world exists. There's no fear, no worry, just us. Just him.

The rising sunbeams lazily danced across his brown skin like butterflies fluttering through the air, looking for flowers to land on. His breathing came in quiet, rhythmic gasps, a melody all on their own. He was so untouchable in the moment, so sweet, like something out of a fairytale and like something too wonderful for this world. It was impossible to look at him and not want to lay down at his side, to reach for a taste of that perfect calm he created just by being him. I bit back a smile and placed my hand against his exposed arm, warmth tingling up from where my fingers brushed against him.

Thomas's eyes blinked open a second later, and the spell of peace dissolved at once as the waking world attacked in full force.

"Good morning," I said, drawing backwards as I realized just how close I really was. Close enough to smell the flowery perfume rising up off of him. At least, I assumed it was perfume. I'd ask him about it later, I guess.

Thomas yawned, stretching his arms out above his head. "Mornin'," he returned after a moment, accent slightly thicker in the whispers of the early morning.

"That could not have been comfortable," I helpfully added after a second or two of a silence that wasn't completely awkward but still wasn't good.

Thomas stifled a laugh and shrugged it off. He placed his hands carefully in his lap, about to say something, then froze, as if something had distracted him. His eyes widened with surprise, focused on me.

"What?" I prompted. "What's wrong?" Was he staring at my arms? Was there something wrong with my arms? It was too hot under the blankets to wear a long sleeved shirt to bed, so I had opted for a tank top, but was that stupid? I made an attempt to cover them, felt like an idiot, and forced them to hang limp at my side.

Thomas shook his head furiously, snapping back to our reality. "Nothing! Uh, sorry," he said with a short, uneasy laugh, returning to his earlier position with his knees pulled up against his chest. "I just...it's nothing." Something similar to coy embarrassment touched his tone.

"Right." A silence filled the gaps, and for a moment, it seemed like nothing I could say could bridge it. But I at least had to try. "Uh, I'm sorry. About last night."

"Don't apologize, Alexander," Thomas returned. "You have nothing to apologize for."

"But you already have so much to worry about. I don't wanna add to that, you know?" Embarrassment spurred a swath of heat to my face, and I automatically began to trace the wrinkles of my blanket with my finger. "I shouldn't have been so stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid."

I frowned, completely at a loss for a response to that. "I—thank you. For everything."

"You don't have to thank me at all," he returned, nudging me gently. "I don't want you to ever be in pain, okay, Alexander? If you're hurting, you can always talk to me. I'll be there for you. I promise."

I nodded, my throat wobbling with unbidden tears. I turned away so he wouldn't see me, but his touch was inescapable. Not that I minded.

"C'mon," he said. "Let's go make breakfast, okay?"

I smiled up at him, wondering what I had done to deserve such a wonderful person to grace my pathetic, undeserving life. He truly was an angel, sent from another world to lighten this one in whatever way he could. "Sounds perfect."