//TW: suicide, self-harm, ptsd, abuse\\

Oh boy here we go.

Prepare yourselves guys.

~•~

Part 1: The Note
Thomas

There's a moment, faced by the morning sunlight and the rapid retreat of all the dreams that can only face you in the darkness, where there is nothing in this world but a pervasive, unending feeling of total bliss. There's a feeling of unencumbered warmth, gliding through my bones, feeding into every last way I had tried so hard to adore myself. A moment where I have to wonder why I was ever worried by fleeting and temporary problems, when there is nothing but this joyous light to be worshipped and praised. There's a world that flirts on the cusp of faceless dreams and loveless reality, and I found myself blissfully trapped to it.

And delighted to be.

For there was a voice, so close, so far. It sang its symphony from all around me, a lilting tone easing the weariness dragging down at every limb.

"I don't know, but...but I am terrified," said the voice. I smiled as I listened to it speak. It was warm and gentle, soft and caring, protective and kind. The voice was like a gentle rainstorm in the middle of a blazing hot summer. When I listened to it, I felt safe. Like I was home. Like I belonged.

I nestled myself further into a nearby source of warmth and let myself smile gently.

Part of me wished to never regain meaning. Part of me wished to stay in this world forever.

"Thomas?" said the voice.

A devastating silence filled the space the voice did not occupy. I pressed myself closer into the warmth, desperate for it to cascade down around my shoulders like fluttering sunlight. To never have to think about anything.

I wanted to hear the voice speak again. It was so pretty, so comforting. Just the sound of it was better than any piece of music. Perhaps I should linger trapped in this world for just a moment or two longer, living for the voice and its sweet, sultry embrace.

But the world does not care for what I wish, and the blissful state slowly melted away under an intense heat, and harsh gray light blurred my vision as my eyelids slowly fell open. I raised my head, blinking the sleep from my eyes, and let my gaze wander around the small room. The memories of the night before hit me hard, and all at once, the fresh cuts creeping their way up my arm burned like a thousand tiny stars had ignited all at once, only to burn away just as fast. My heart shattered in my chest, and the light suddenly seemed cruel and cold.

The first thing I made out was Lafayette smiling at me, though it was a sad smile. A pitying smile. "Good morning, Thomas. How are you feeling?"

I felt a pair of arms tighten around my body, bringing me closer. Lips pressed against my forehead, fingers burned away at my skin. It was a suffocating touch, one that devoured me whole without hesitation. A touch that I did not deserve, a comfort that seemed so utterly foreign to me. I wormed my way out of the grasp of those two arms, desperate for freedom, desperate for space to exist on my own. My back flattened against the opposite end of the couch, and my eyes took in whose grasp I had just escaped, and my voice fell away into the depths of an abyss so unending, it swiftly became irretrievable.

Alexander gazed at me, eyes saddened, lips overturned in a frown that devastated me. I swallowed, but he smiled all the same, the bitingly short flash of pain in his eyes disappearing at once as he assumed a brave face. "Hey, love," he said, softly, as if afraid to break some precious silence I hadn't realized had existed.

The room went silent. Before, there had been whispers. Soft voices speaking hard truths. A mutiny of a chorus that existed regardless of my feelings, and for that, I was grateful. Noise was gorgeous, in all shapes and in all forms. But now, a steady silence drifted down upon the room as all eyes and ears pinned themselves to me, and suddenly, I was adrift in an ocean and I had forgotten how to swim. So, it came as little surprise when the waves tugged me under, when the unbearably salty sea water filled my lungs and drowned out my voice, once and for all.

I swallowed. How had I ever existed with such a silence before? And it hit me then, that they were waiting for me to say something. But what left was there to possibly say, as stranded as I was, as hopeless as I am?

My fingers grasped at my arms. For a moment, they tore at my flesh, eager to once more rip open the skin that had barely even begun to scar over. Eager for the biting brush of pain and vulnerability and destruction and—

I felt a hand place itself over mine gently. I looked down at it, my eyes skimming across my bandaged arms, and looked up to see who the other hand belonged to.

Alexander smiled. It was a genuine smile, but it was still riddled by fear, by apprehension. Perhaps those two things were exactly what made it a genuine smile, in some preverse sense of the word, but who knows? He carefully undid my grasp on my arms, brought my hands to my lap, and let out a deep, fluttering breath that I couldn't help but imitate. At my following of his instructions, he relaxed. Without a word, Alexander leaned forwards and placed a kiss to my lips, as soft and sweet and as slow as he always is.

And it left me numb inside, knowing I would never truly deserve that touch.

"Thomas?" the small, sweet voice of Eliza asked, ever curious, ever invading. I winced at all the expectations she wordlessly voiced with that twist of the tone. "How are you feeling? Alexander told us about what happened. We were just...well...are you okay?"

I couldn't speak. I didn't want to speak. Words were horrible, demented, nightmares. They were impossible. They were too much, and too little, and heedless of my intentions. So, instead, I merely shrugged, facing the ground, closing my eyes tight as the silence persisted.

Alexander inched a bit closer. I allowed myself to fall into his waiting arms, spread wide for a hug. A small smile flickered across his face in what I could only assume to be relief. Letting out a sweet breath, he slid one arm around my waist and pulled me closer to him, his fingers tracing the areas where the newest bandages covered my flesh.

"I think we need to talk about this," he murmured, his breath warm in my ear. A secret, meant only for me. "Do you want to talk about this right now?"

I shook my head, drawing my arms away from him and folding them in my lap.

I didn't need him to see what I was already so ashamed of. I did not need him to see my scars. I did not need any of them to.

Dick stirred, gazing at me through his small but knowing eyes. He sat on the windowsill above me, looking out at the world below. Perhaps, he played the role of my guardian. And even know, he too was utterly silent.

"Thomas," Alexander said carefully, but a hint of impatience resonated deep within his tone. I flinched as it bit through me, already tearing my insides apart. "This is not something we can ignore. We have to talk about it, and Lafayette was thinking it may be easier if we were all here to help you." He paused, took a breath. "That's all we really want to do, you know. To help you. I—"

"Thomaswhatthehellisthis?" interrupted Aaron. He was standing near the coffee pot, holding a piece of paper in his hands and his eyes were wide.

Too wide.

And the world fell away around me, and a black hole arose from the collapsing of the stars, and it sucked me down into an eternal nothingness ripping me open from the inside out. I slid away from Alexander, my arms shaking, my body trembling, my eyes glued to the piece of paper, as if staring at it enough will burn a permanent hole into it an render it unreadable, and everything it meant and said and every intention poured within that ink will become null and void and the world will forget and I will forget and everything will be okay for a moment, just a moment really, is all I ask for.

"Umm, that's a piece of paper," Angelica returned, matter-of-factly.

If only she knew. If only they knew. And then they would look at me with disgust, with pity, with fear. And they would never see me the same, because to them, I will always just be something to fix. Something that is incomplete.

They are right.

And I hate myself for it.

I hate myself in every single way imaginable.

"Really? Wow. Thanks. It's what's on the paper that concerns me."

"What's on the paper?" Alexander asked, concern lacing his voice.

And of course, I could not respond. I reached out, silently asking for the paper, meeting Aaron's eyes. I could just imagine how desperate I looked. How wide open and vulnerable, but I needed that paper before anybody else could see it, before it could destroy me in their eyes for good. And then they would see me as a coward, an idiot, a hopeless case unworthy of their time and love.

I couldn't breathe.

"Thomas," Alexander said, voice pitched dangerously low. Terror burst through my veins, and I could not help but slide away from him. My body tensed of its own accord, waiting for a strike to fall. And how pitiful is that? "What's on the paper?"

"Thomas," Aaron said carefully, his voice cracking. "I can't just let this—"

"Hey, what is it?" asked John. "We're kinda being left in the dark here."

"Thomas," Aaron murmured, stepping towards me. "How could you—?"

"Can I see it?" Alexander asked. "Please?"

I shook my head, gripping onto my arms for purchase. I did not care if it hurt. I did not care if I bled.

Aaron cast me a sad look, and handed it to Alexander. The breath escaped me piece by piece, and plunged underneath those freezing waves, all I could do was sit there and wait and pray to the stars above that it hadn't been the way I remembered it, that some form of divine intervention had rewritten the past in ways I knew it never would.

Soon enough, a sharp gasp escaped from Alexander's mouth, followed by a quiet, "Thomas."

There's a calm, that comes before a storm. A peace that fools us all into believing there is nothing to fear. The peace is blinding, all-encompassing. And like children, we choose to find solace in only that peace and nothing else. But it can only sustain us for so long. Because once the storm hits, there is nothing left in its path. It pulls the world apart, drowning it all underneath its rolling, towering waves. It destroys everything in its wake, and not even the strongest steel can withstand the worst of the storms. A wildfire may burn, but at least it can be prevented, it can be stopped. A storm will rage and thunder and devour the world until it eventually tires itself out.

And the storm washes over us, plunging the world in the dull darkness that corrupts the moonlight.

For a moment or two, silence prevailed. A thick, suffocating silence that tasted bitter upon my tongue. I shifted, unable to bear the weight of all those eyes dragging me under the waves of the raging sea as it fed the storm.

"What is it?" Eliza pressed softly.

"It's a suicide note," Alexander stated flatly. Then, he let out a single sad laugh, the laugh of someone who lost something important to them and has no clue of how to handle it. "It's a fucking. Suicide. Note."

Silence draped upon the world, a curtain being pulled shut. As swift as a bird taking flight, that immense veil had fallen and left me on the wrong side of the divide, looking out as the others peered in. I could not think. I could not breathe. All I could do was sit there and hold myself with eyes pressed shut, waiting for somebody to say something, waiting for somebody to put an end to this wretched silence.

It clawed at me. It tore me open, piece by piece. And somewhere in the distance, thunder rumbled in a low, foreboding tone, and the worst part was that I had no idea if it was my imagination or if it was real. But either way, the storm had rolled in, and I could already taste the electric buzz of the lightning cleaving the sky into two, broken parts.

Alexander stared at the couch. His hands trembled. He did not speak.

I hesitated, my tongue so heavy in my mouth. Slowly, carefully, I reached a hand out to place against his shoulder, either to offer comfort or beg forgiveness but I was not yet sure. My palm barely brushed against his bare skin when he yanked himself away.

And Alexander pinned me under those eyes. Those pained, desperate, furious eyes.

"How selfish are you?" he demanded.

The words ripped through me like a bullet. My heart shattered once more, the fine pieces of broken glass cutting into my skin and tearing me open yet again. The world caved in around me, around each and every syllable. And for a moment, I plummeted. Burst wide open like a balloon handled one too many times.

"Do I have to get someone to watch you whenever I can't, just so I make sure you don't fucking kill yourself?"

The air around me went cold. My fingers went numb. My blood froze.

"Alexander—" Eliza tried to say, but he cut her off.

"This doesn't concern you." He turned to me. "What is wrong with you? Do you ever think about how I would feel? Do you even care about me? No, you don't. The only person you give a fuck about is yourself. I don't matter to you. You've made that perfectly clear. You've done nothing but lie, go behind my back, and you bring nothing but pain with you wherever you go. I can't trust you, can I?"

It is so easy, to be so mean. Why is it so easy to be so mean? Why is it so easy to hurt somebody else?

Why am I so easy to hurt?

I clutched at my hands, my fingernails digging into my skin. Panic embedded itself within my soul, infusing its poison deep inside of me.

"Alexander," Lafayette said, his voice cold. He stepped forward, reaching for me. I wanted to sink into his arms, find some sort of warmth now that the only sun I've ever known has flickered out of existence so suddenly.

Tears glimmered in the corners of his eyes. Angry, angry tears. "Fuck. Off. You're part of the problem. You let him get away with this shit!"

"You hear yourself, right?" Lafayette returned, tone dangerously low. "You're only making things worse, Alexander."

"Thomas needs us to comfort him—" Eliza tried.

"What about me?" Alexander snapped. "It's always about him."

Die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die

I cannot breathe. I am drowning. I am plummeting. I am dying.

I wish I had died. I would rather be dead than be sitting here, lightning piercing the sky all around me. I would rather be dead, than listen to this Alexander, the one I had ruined. The one I had corrupted with my own inability to love. The one that would have been much, much better without me.

It seemed like a nightmare. Like any moment, I will wake up and find myself in his arms again and I will gasp for breath and the ghost of it will die.

Tears burned in my eyes, little inextinguishable fires that relished in the pain they wrought. They rendered me useless, and the sobs erupted from my mouth before I could stop them. My hand flung to my lips, as if trying to keep them in, but there was nothing I could do. They shattered in the air, they broke, and I broke along with them.

"Do you have anything to say?" Alexander demanded. "Or are you just going to sit there and play the victim once again?"

"Alexander!" Aaron yelled, his voice making me flinch. "What the absolute fuck is wrong with you?"

"Just shut up," Angelica growled.

The world fell apart around me, and all I could do was watch. The seams came undone, and the threads unraveled, and the hideous truth that waited underneath was finally revealed and it showed me exactly what I had feared and dreaded and sobbed in the darkness over as the nightmares filled my head. I had died every moment they had thundered through my mind but I had never, ever thought that they'd ever be reality.

And once more, I found that I wanted to die.

I craved nothingness like the world craves darkness as the sun burns and blisters away.

They yelled. Everybody around me. They yelled and screamed and fought and the world only grew darker, more incomplete. And the ghosts rose from the cracks, the very demons I had fled, trying so hard to leave behind. They emerged and they infiltrated and they consumed me and they ruined everything in this world, every last thing that was supposed to be good and pure and wonderful and bow there was nothing.

And then, Alexander turned to me. His eyes filled with fire. His voice colder than ice. His love suddenly gone, nowhere to be seen now that the storm had swept in from all corners of the earth, closing in on us so completely.

And the words he uttered killed me. They hit me like the swordsman's swing, leaving me bare and bloody for all the word to see. His words pierced my heart and filled me with the worst kind of venom: the one that kills painfully. Slowly. So I can feel every last second of my life ebbing away.

"You know what, Thomas? Sometimes I wish you never came into my life! Sometimes, I think that you'd be better of dead." As soon as he said it, his eyes widened with shock and his hands flew to his mouth.

I sat there, unmoving. Unfeeling. It was not the worst I had ever heard.

But coming from the one person I thought I could trust?

It broke me.

And the garden we had planted together withered and died. Those magnificent colors he had brought into my life faded at once to dull browns and grays, nothing but a reminder of all that had been ripped right out of my hands. All that had been ruined. At once, the garden became a wasteland where nothing thrives, and I stood in the middle of it all, still as a cracked statue.

"Thomas," Alexander whispered, horrified. He slipped towards me, his fingers reaching for my face. "Thomas, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

I slid out of his reach. I stood up. I slipped past Lafayette and Hercules, too quick as they tried to reach for me. To stop me.

I escaped. I put the room behind me, laying in tatters as the storm swept through and destruction trailed after. They went hand in hand, I suppose. But it hardly mattered.

And only when I put Alexander far, far behind me as I slowly made my way down the street and to that park where he had first shown me kindness and love did I finally finally finally allow myself the tears that had been hammering away inside of me.

And I crumpled. And the sobs found their way through me once more.

And I cried, because sometimes it seems like crying is all I am good for.

And I cried, because nobody could hear me now.

~•~

Part 2: The Tree
James

The forest had gone, rather uncharacteristically, silent. As though all the birds had disappeared at once, harvested right from the trees and taken elsewhere. It all seemed rather wrong, but I forced myself onwards regardless. I didn't dwell on it. I didn't want to.

Instead, I walked along the path I had known for years before. Footsteps fell in the exact same places they had a million times before, carving the path I had taken day after day for years, the only solace in the crowded, horrible city. The dirt crunched underneath my feet, the soft wind whistled through my ears. Any other day, without the looming threat of those storm clouds hanging so low in the sky, inches away from swallowing the city whole, it would have been a beautiful place for an outing. But now it just seemed ominous, terrifying.

I kept my eyes locked straight ahead, looking for the burst of dulled pink amongst the lively greens and browns.

It wasn't long before the path had taken me exactly where it needed to. The trampled grass marking years' worth of being walked upon faded away, and the grand old oak tree with the initials carved in the bark emerged from the forestry. It stood tall in the center of the clearing, breathtakingly beautiful in its majestic age. I let out a deep breath, resting a hand against a nearby pine to support me as my eyes trailed up and up the tree until I found that one spot of color amongst it all.

There he was.

I glanced down at my phone once more, reading over the messages, the only reason I had bothered to track down the tree once again, when all it did was bring back memories I'd sooner forget.

Aaron: I'm asking you for your help

Aaron: please just do this one worthwhile thing in your miserable life

I swallowed, terrified. I could not do this. I could not be the person he was asking me to be. I could not face what I had done. I was not ready for it, I was not ready to look Thomas in the eyes and feel the sky come crushing down, consuming me in its descent.

I am a coward.

But, at the same time, Thomas needs me.

And so, I stepped into the sunlight.

Thomas did not notice me at first, his face buried in his hands. Those soft, discordant notes wound through the air, a melancholy song composed of his weeping. Even from where I was standing, I could see the way he tore at his skin, at his hair, trying to rip himself open. His body convulsed, and for one startling moment, he reminded me of a bird about to plummet straight out of the tree.

I watched him for a moment, biting down on my tongue, completely unsure of how I should feel.

Finally, I cleared my throat and edged closer to the base of the old tree. I pressed my hands behind my back, if only to hide the way they trembled, and softly said, "Thomas?"

He froze, the mournful lament dying in his throat. Eyes went wide with fear, and he gazed down at me as if utterly paralyzed.

I waited a moment longer, but he did not respond.

"Can I come up?"

Another moment passed. Slowly, Thomas nodded, shifting his body so it was pressed flat against the tree. Biting back a sigh, I reached up for the first branch and climbed.

I did not touch him. In fact, I did everything in my power to keep enough space between us, even though it felt utterly wrong.

"Are you...are you okay?" I asked, forcing my voice to stay level and soft, even despite the spider that felt like it was trying to pry its way out of my mouth.

Thomas clutched at his arms. With the way he stared at me, I might as well have been a ghost come back to haunt him, a monster risen from the deepest depths of his mind. But regardlessly, he slowly shook his head and dropped his gaze, refusing to meet mine. I swallowed down the ball of frustration that coated my mouth like clay, and recited one of the breathing techniques I had tried so hard to master.

"Hey," I said, fully aware of how pitiful I sounded. "It's okay, Thomas. I'm not going to hurt you! I—I know it doesn't count for much, but I promise."

Thomas watched me, not saying a word.

"Oh," I said as the realization enveloped me. I offered him a smile. A genuine smile, only too little too late. "It's one of those kinds of days?"

He nodded.

"I understand."

Thomas shrugged, hugging his body again.

"I won't make you talk, if you don't want to. But Aaron's worried about you, you know."

Thomas dropped his head, wrapped his arms around himself to protect his body from all the vicious, cruel things that crept inwards and inwards, tearing away our skin, eating away at our hearts.

Neither of us wanted to be here, the storm dancing above our heads. Somewhere in the distance, lightning pierced the sky. A deep roll of thunder followed, a few moments later.

"Do you still count?" I asked. "The seconds, I mean." I swallowed, the absolute stupidity of what I was saying hitting me hard. "Because I still do, you know? Force of habit."

Thomas did not move. But, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and I think for now, it would have to do.

Another strike filled the air, a blinding flash that never ceased to sent a bullet of fear through me. "We should probably go inside. A tree's not the best place to be during a storm, you know."

Thomas did not move. But why should he? He's never feared the storm, and he shouldn't have to. Not for somebody who loves the endless possibilities of the sky as much as he does. The rain and the lightning and the inherent danger is just a part of the thrill.

"What're you thinking about?" I asked softly, my gaze locked on the ground below us.

But it was obvious, judging by the way he gripped his body. Judging by the way he stared at the ground, ever calculating. The threat hung unspoken in the air, but he teetered all the same.

It wasn't hard to imagine his body, laying broken and bruised against the forest floor. Damaged, but perhaps still breathing. And wouldn't that be the worst of it? Having to explain this to somebody, having to relive this moment for years to come.

"I know," I said, trying to distract myself from the thought,"I know you don't care, and I know you're not asking but...but I think you should know that I am currently seeing a therapist."

Thomas lifted his head, his eyes solemn. He turned away from me, shifting so that he was facing the world below us.

"I think things are getting better!" I continued, enthusiastically. "I've started to learn how to control my anger. How to move on from all of this, you know? And it's nice! To be able to forget that all of this happened. To have a new, fresh start. To move on. Honestly, I really think I'm starting to understand. It's...I'm getting better. And I have you to thank—"

"Does it make me a bad person," he whispered, barely loud enough for me to hear above the wind whirling through the sky, above the thunder rumbling in the far distance, "to want you to hurt?"

"I—oh."

Thomas hugged his body again, resting his head on his knees. Only then did I see the flower he gripped tight to, a soft pink rose. Its thorns dug into his palms. And he did not even flinch. He embraced the pain.

I swallowed.

"Do you want to talk about what happened? Between you and Alexander?"

Thomas shook his head. It only truly seemed like the world could be completely silent when Thomas refused to lift his voice in sweet, harmonious song.

Despite the spike of annoyance, I somehow managed a smile. "Okay. That's totally okay. There's no pressure." It did not come out easy. None of this seemed natural. But I made myself stay calm and delightful because dammit what other choice did I have?

I watched him carefully, out of the corner of my eye. There was so much I wanted to say. So many words and meaningless memories that filled my heart to the point where I genuinely thought I was going to burst. I reached out a hand to touch him, to connect, to find something I had ruined a long time ago. It would have been so easy, just to reach out and brush my fingers against his arm and to allow the warmth of his soul to flood through me once more, in all the ways it used to. In all the ways it was supposed to.

It's so fucking stupid, how much I want somebody else to make this all okay for me.

I want somebody else to make this decision.

I could touch him. I could grant myself access to the exhilarating rush that consumed my veins every second I spent with my hand on his shoulder, I could feel the stardust inside of my soul reaching out to intertwine with his. I could let the tree and the overgrown ivy and the senseless, aimless breeze override everything we thought we knew, turning us into just another component of the forest. I could feel whole, again, for the first time in the few weeks I've spent waking up to coldness. Perhaps for the first time in four years, since I used to truly genuinely worship him and everything he did. Before it all turned into a blackhole, sucking away all the goodness in the world. Maybe I'd finally learn how to love again.

But I guess I'd never know.

"Thomas?"

I glanced down, past the sunlight filtering in through the leaves, past the branches obstructing my vision, past the few raindrops that had begun to fall, to see Professor Washington standing at the base of the tree.

I waved. His eyes narrowed in keen distaste. There are many things in this world that I fear. Sharks. Falling. The accidental peanut slipped into my salad and inducing an allergic reaction. But I am not terrified of anything like I am of Professor Washington and his righteous anger.

I swallowed.

"And why are you anywhere near Thomas?" he spat.

I shrugged.

Thomas lifted his head, his fingernails digging into the bark of the tree. I risked a small glance his way, unable to hide my smile at the way he slipped forward a tiny inch, as if trying to put himself between Washington and I. Even after all this time, even after all I had done, and he was still trying to protect me.

I loved him.

I couldn't help it.

"Your son's an asshole," I offered up when it became clear Thomas still could not speak.

"Which one? At this point I have like, forty."

"Alexander," I said, shrugging.

Washington went silent. "Oh. You two better come down."

"Wait," I asked. "So what are you doing here?"

"I was going for a walk. And you still haven't explained why you are anywhere near Thomas."

"So you just so happened to be going on a walk and just so happened to pick the same time we were out here and just so happened to go to the park we were in and just so happened to take the trail through the woods and just so happened to wind up right under the tree we hang out in? How is that possible?"

Mr. Washington shrugged. "Plot convenience."

"Oh okay," I said.

"Do you want to come down?" he asked again, his eyes focused on Thomas.

"Do you?" I repeated, softly so Washington couldn't hear. For a moment, it seemed like everything had reverted to the way it had before. A perfect blending of the past and the present, littered with our conspiratorial whispers and ourselves against the world and having only each other. But life wasn't like that, not anymore.

It would never be again.

Eventually, Thomas nodded, and slowly made his way down the tree. He seemed strangely graceful, up in the air, falling from branch to branch with only the wind to guide his descent. I followed...well, less gracefully, needless to say, and I did not miss the way Thomas had to hide a smile at how I almost fell.

Washington placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder. "Are you alright?"

Thomas shook his head, hugging his body.

Washington nodded. "I won't ask for an explanation." He and I shared a glance, a knowing one, and briefly, I wasn't terrified for my life. "Let me walk you home, Thomas. You shouldn't be out here with the storm about to hit."

Wordlessly, I tagged along.

It was a miracle that we managed to weave through the city streets with only minimal rain splattering against our bodies. Lightning illuminated a darkened sky, but it seemed distant, a trivial worry when compared to the rest of the world and the boy walking with his head down, between Washington and I. We seemed to be the only thing keeping him afloat. Alive.

Eventually, we made it to the apartment. We made it to their door. Thomas froze in front of it, his body stiff as a statue, overlooking an overgrown garden. He clutched the rose tighter, having never let go of it. Perhaps it reminded him of something, but whose to say?

"You don't have to go in," I offered. "But you can't stay with me."

Because if he did, I knew I wouldn't be able to stop myself.

"Look, Thomas," Professor Washington said. "You're going to have to do it sooner or later. You can't keep running from your problems in hopes they'll go away. You have to face them. You have to face Alexander. You don't have to say anything now, but you will eventually. So I think it's time to stop running."

Slowly, Thomas nodded. Without a word, he opened the door, and silently slipped inside. I followed, shrugging at Washington.

The yelling ceased the moment I followed Thomas inside. It went quite dead, all at once, mimicking the way the world stops as the thunder crashes and the rain falls. All eyes fell to me.

"Oh thank God! An actual adult!" Hercules exclaimed in relief upon seeing Mr. Washington.

"What are you doing here?" Lafayette growled upon seeing me. Apparently, the only person he hated more than Alexander right now was me.

That's fair.

But Alexander stiffened, his eyes growing dark as he gazed at me. "Get. The fuck. Out."

"Hey man," I said, cooly. "I'm just fixing your mistake." I softened as I glanced at Thomas, who had gone absolutely still. Dick, the beautiful, bold mockingbird, tore through the air upon seeing him, landed on his shoulder, and proceeded to sing a gorgeous song, one that made me see the world through a refined lens.

Washington asked what I could not. "Are you going to be okay, Thomas? Do you want me to stay?"

Thomas shook his head, gazing firmly at the ground.

Alexander's gaze fell upon Thomas immediately. "Thomas! I— I'm so sorry, I didn't mean any of it, I swear! I... please, I didn't want to—"

Thomas's grip on himself only tightened. "I can't," he whispered softly, and that was all that needed to be said. He slid past a heartbroken Alexander, an understanding Lafayette, and a solemn Aaron who briefly touched his shoulder as he passed.

He disappeared through his doorway, taking the bird with him, and the door closed after him.

Moments later, the faint sound of violin drifted from down the hallway.

What a beautiful, beautiful sound.

~•~

Part 3: The Moment Alone
Alexander

Talk to him, Professor Washington had advised before he left with all the others.

He's a hopeless romantic. Just write something gushy and you should have him right back in your arms, Aaron had confided, albeit hesitantly.

You never deserved him, Lafayette had spat as Professor Washington forced him and the others out. He deserves happiness. Not heartbreak.

And of course, Lafayette was right.

And James had just stood there, watching me through the eyes of a predator. He hadn't smiled. He hadn't spoken. He simply stared at me, then had turned and disappeared without another word, leaving me to only guess at everything that had happened between them, lost forever in the pouring rain and the oncoming storm.

As if anything could make this day worse.

I stared at the bedroom door, my heart racing. I took a step forward, hand raised, but thought better of it. My breath came out in a few short, ragged gasps, and part of me wondered if it would simply be better for me to stop breathing altogether. Tears burned away in the corners of my eyes and I refused to shed them, even as alone as I was, because crying meant vulnerability and now was not the time to show any hint of weakness at all.

Right now, I had nothing save the gentle swell or the violin music, a beautiful marriage of song and feeling, but it would never be enough to replace what I could have lost. What I very well may have with those stupid words that I will never be able to retract, with that stupid flare of anger that had powered my decisions, that had allowed me to do something so violently stupid.

I had fucked up.

I had fucked up so, so bad.

Fucked up in a way I will never be able to fix, not with all the pretty words and gentle kisses in the world. I had quite possibly ruined all the damn progress I had made, and even worse, I had made Thomas cry.

And that alone was enough to cement me forever as a horrible, horrible person who deserved nothing but pain and heartache.

But please, just don't take my Thomas away.

And to this day, I'm still not quite sure exactly who I was asking.

Every part of me wanted to turn tail and flee. The door stood in front of me, menacingly. A roll of thunder crashed over us, and I could not help it, I jumped. Even after so long, after years' worth of trying to put that all behind me and move on, to try and find strength in the storm so that it could never hurt me again, and here I fucking was.

I am utterly useless.

But I gathered my courage together, and slowly, slowly, managed to knock on the door.

Silence resounded, the music stopping at once. I waited a moment, but Thomas said nothing, which I suppose was fair enough. I swallowed down the fear tasting so bitter and strange in my mouth, and forced my limbs to relax. I did not trust my voice not to shake, but it was either admit to that or turn around and walk away and never let myself see him in the same golden, morning light again. Never wake up next to him again. Never know how wonderful it feels to be in his arms and have him in mine, again. Because if I don't do this now, I will simply never get another chance.

If I don't do this now, I am forever doomed to live alone.

So I cleared my throat and I forced myself to speak.

"Thomas? It's me, it's Alexander. Can... can I come in?"

There was a pause.

Then, the door clicked, and the sound of his footsteps receded. I paused, tested the knob, only to find it unlocked. Heaving a breath of relief, I pushed the door open.

Thomas was sitting on the ground, his violin right under his chin. When he saw me, he put it down on the ground and lowered his head.

Silently, I joined him, sitting down right in front of him so we were only separated by the violin. He gazed down at it, not saying a word, clutching at his arms. Dick chirped from his shoulder, twisting his head at me, as ever curious as he always is. He watched over Thomas, almost daring me to come closer.

There was silence for a while.

Finally, "I'm sorry."

I almost jumped at the suddenness of his voice. He had spoken so softly I couldn't even believe he had said anything at all at first, too afraid it was all a dream. But he watched me through sad, carefully concealed eyes.

"What?" I asked.

"For what I did. I... didn't mean to hu-hurt you Alexander. I—I promise." He sighed, eyes falling. "I wasn't thinking."

"No, Thomas, that's not—I shouldn't have said—I—"

"But you were right Alexander. Look, I've been thinking about it, and you were absolutely right." His eyes met mine. "I'm a horrible person. And you have to leave this relationship right now. I don't value you or your emotions as much as I should, and that isn't fair to you. Your happiness is more important than my own. It's too late for me, but I can still save you. Please, Alexander, leave me. Find someone who's worth your time, someone who makes you happy, who deserves you and who loves you and who isn't broken. I'll make it as easy as I can for you, I'll support you through this or I'll leave you alone, whichever one you want. I want you to be happy, Alexander. And I realize that you can't be happy if you're with me." His hand entwined with mine. Tears were pooling in his gaze, and a warm and sad smile overcame his mouth. "Go find someone who you truly do love, who truly loves you."

"How dare you tell me if I'm happy or not?" I whispered.

His eyes widened in surprise, clearly taken off guard. At his feet laid that pink rose I had seen him carrying earlier. Quietly, I scooped it up and slid it behind his ear, if only for the excuse to cradle his face. He did not flinch away; he leaned into my touch.

"You don't get to decide that. The only person who gets to decide if I'm happy is me. And I am happy, Thomas! You know me. Am I the type of person to sit quietly and deal with it if something is bothering me? And I know it didn't seem like it earlier today and I know what I said was horrible, but I truly do love you and I really am sorry. I shouldn't have said it, and I didn't mean it. Any of it. I'm so lucky to have you, I'm so happy to get to spend time with you! What I said was wrong. I'm so glad I can be good enough for you to call me your boyfriend. I was scared. Scared, and shocked, and confused. But that isn't an excuse and I should have tried to support you. Love, I am happy."

It was a miracle, I could get the words out at all. Not when they seemed to lodge themselves in my throat with the tears and the vacant phantoms of the past few hours. And the fear. And the terror of watching him disappear and wondering if I'd ever see him again and trying to chase after him but being pulled back by Aaron who demanded to know what the fuck was wrong with me—

I took a deep breath, my face flushing with warmth. "I love you, very, very much. And you should hate me for what I said. Or be mad, at the very least. But I do love you, and I'd give up worlds just to be yours. I promise."

"I love you Thomas. I can't stand the thought of losing you," I said, taking his hands in mine. "You're my everything. I mean it. I love everything about you except for how much you hate yourself. Let me ask you this, do you love me?"

"More than anything else in the world," he said, without a hint of hesitation.

"Then that's all I need," I whispered. I moved my hand to cup his face, and I pressed my lips against his. He laid down, and I laid down besides him, wrapping my arms around his body and pulling him close to me. "Thomas, stop telling me that you don't deserve me. One, it isn't true. Two, I hate how quick you are to put yourself down just to compliment me, and three, we are human beings. We deserve to be loved. And if you love me and I love you, then I say we deserve each other."

"You're amazing," he murmured.

"What would you say if we looked into getting you a therapist?"

He closed his eyes.

"Love, I can't lose you again."

"I would think it's a good idea."

I kissed his forehead gently. "You shouldn't be so quick to forgive me for what I said earlier."

"It's fine, Alexander. I mean, it hurts. And it probably will, for a while, but you were upset at me." He paused, swallowing hard. "And you have every right to be. I just wish—it hadn't come out the way it did."

"But it hurt you."

"So? I hurt you last night. I hurt you this morning. I've hurt you ever time I neglected to care about your feelings, and yet you've forgiven me."

"You didn't mean to."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"If you're really sorry, then you'll stop cutting. I trust you Thomas, I love you, so I'm going to give you one more chance. But if I catch you cutting again, or hurting yourself in another way, I'm going to start getting someone to watch you when I can't, deal?"

Thomas nodded, lowering his head.

"Love?" I whispered, slipping my fingers underneath his chin.

"Deal," he whispered. A moment passed, a soft moment where neither of us knew quite what to do. A moment where the unsteady gray light slowly pooled inside, dancing along the floor, dancing along his face. Thomas turned away from me, gazing out the window at the rain that fell down upon the word, washing it anew. Another roll of thunder, but it didn't seem as treacherous as it had been before.

"Thomas—" I began, at the same time he softly murmured, "But it wasn't fair of you."

I blinked, unsure of if I heard him correctly. My heart skipped a beat from its newfound position resting in my throat. "I'm sorry?"

"What you said earlier," he whispered. "Even if I forgive you. It still—it still hurt." He turned away. "I needed you. And you—"

"I wasn't there. And it was shitty. And you're right, love. You have every right to be mad."

"I don't want to be mad." He said. And then, a soft smile tugged at his lips as he gazed at me. "It's just not worth it." A weary sigh managed its way past his lips. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Baby, I think we need to."

"Please, Alexander?"

"If we don't, things are only going to fester. And get worse. And I don't want that to happen."

"Tomorrow," he whispered. "Let's talk about it tomorrow."

And, unable to say anything else, I conceded. "Tomorrow."

He turned against me, his eyes going soft with sorrow. He let out a sigh, then relaxed against my body, and even though we were lying on the floor together, it didn't quite matter. Because I had him, and as long as I had him, they couldn't do anything to us.

As long as he was in my arms once more, life was perfect.

"Have you eaten anything today love?"

"Not hungry," he murmured. "I'm just really tired and drained and I have a headache."

"Love you have to eat."

"Eating is too much work."

I sighed. "Fine. Tell you what, I'll let you take a thirty minute nap, as long as you promise to eat something as soon as you wake up. And later, you and I are going out to get dinner and I'm going to pick the place. How does that sound?"

The joy had long died in his eyes, replaced by exhaustion. Not sorrow, not anger, just a blank look of utter exhaustion. He nodded slowly, a sigh escaping his lips, and he searched for warmth in the crook of my neck, his legs intertwining with mine.

"I love you, and I'm sorry."

"I know," he whispered. "I am too."

"You have nothing to apologize for. I should have been there for you. I wasn't." I took a deep breath. "I failed you when you needed me." Tendrils of ice wrapped around my heart, squeezing and squeezing, horrified by the things I had so unwittingly said only a few hours ago. "Nothing can ever make it okay. I was wrong."

Thomas sighed. But he didn't argue.

"I forgive you, Alexander. Can we just leave it at that?"

"Only if you promise that from now on, when you're hurting, you tell me. I don't care if I'm asleep. I don't care if you don't want to disturb me. I'd rather be awake in the middle of the night comforting you, then wake up in the morning to find you..." Choked up, I couldn't finish.

Thomas sighed, nodding with closed eyes.

"I love you, Thomas. Really, I do. And I hate myself for what I said to you today. You deserve the world." I ran my fingers through his wild locks of hair, gazing into his eyes as they drooped slightly. "I love you."

"I love you too," he whispered, burying his face against my chest. "I'm gonna take that nap, now."

I smiled down at him. "You're amazing. Sweet dreams, angel."

Thomas's shirt had ridden up a little, so I rubbed circles into the exposed bare skin with my thumb, feeling warm inside as he hummed gently in content. His breathing slowed a few minutes later. I watched him sleep, my heart beating unsteadily in my throat as he dreamt.

And I promised myself that no matter what, I would never let myself be so stupid again.

So, Thomas slept away the rest of the afternoon, the storm slowly petering off into the distance like a weary traveler forever unsure of their final destination. But I was far too haunted by all that could have happened had things been even the slightest bit different, the slightest bit more unfair.

And as Thomas slept and dreamt of worlds I could only wish to explore, I existed with this gut-wrenching pain in my stomach forever reminding me of all I could have lost.

~•~

Okay, first off, sorry for such a long chapter, but I had to tell a story and so I did. This probably will be the last overly long chapter, the rest should be normal size. We almost broke 7,000 words though, so that makes me pretty proud of myself.

Second, just out of curiosity, who's side did you take during the first part, Alexander's or Thomas's?