//TW: ptsd, swearing\\

Alexander

"So I was thinking that we should use a safe word."

"Oh?" Thomas asked, his eyes focused solely on what was in front of him, as distant as two galaxies drifting further and further apart from ours. The hot early June sun bore down on us as we made our way through the crowded streets, making it rather unpleasant to worm our way through the scores of people rushing about.

"Yeah. You know, if I do— if one of us does something that makes the other feel uncomfortable," I began, quickly correcting myself. "Then the other can say it and that'll let us know to stop! Now, I have a few suggestions myself, if you'd be interested in hearing them."

I grabbed Thomas's hand and pulled him back just as he was about to step in the road. He paused, the traffic whizzing past him in an unsteady blur of that startling taxi cab yellow. He took a hesitant step backwards from the street and cast me a weary smile, almost poking fun at the way I had to catch him.

"That would have been bad," he said.

"Yes. It would have. You okay, love?" I asked, tightening my grip on his hand.

Thomas nodded in that sort of nonchalant way he often does when trying to disguise the thoughts creeping slowly and slowly through his head, an endless procession making its advances. I crossed my arms, raised an eyebrow. In response, he laughed slightly. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just lost in thought, I guess." A pause. "Sorry."

"No need to apologize, love," I returned, squeezing his hand. His warm eyes met mine, and I pulled him along as the crosswalk light changed, permitting us to cross across the uncomfortably warm concrete. "You nervous?"

He shrugged.

"Thomas. Remember what we talked about?"

Because I need him to talk to me. Because I hate it when he shuts the world out, when his words become mute and distant, when he is silent while he is suffering. It renders me helpless, lost. So if I have to force him to talk to me, then fine.

A soft sigh wormed its way from his lips, almost lost in the noise and the bustle of the city during the crowded afternoon. "Just a little, I guess. What if she doesn't like me?"

"I'll hit her with a brick."

"Alexander."

"I will!"

He sighed, but even he could not fight down that beautiful smile that poked through like sunbeams on a cloudy day. He shook his head in dramatic disbelief but the smile never faded, and perhaps that made the guilt boiling my stomach ease just a little bit. "What were you talking about again? A safe word?"

"Yes. What do you think we should use?"

"What about, 'Can you please stop? You're making me feel uncomfortable'?"

"Yeah but that's no fun. I was thinking something more along the lines of 'Cows are romantic'."

Thomas sighed, rolled his eyes, and smiled. "You just want me to admit it out loud, don't you?"

"Maaaaybe. Hey, I have a question for you. Why aren't koalas considered bears?" I asked in the most serious tone I could muster.

"Probably because they're marsupials."

"No! Because they lack the koalafications!"

A small laugh lit the world on fire too quickly for him to catch it. He shook his head in a distaste that didn't quite match the absolutely adorable smile that flickered across his lips as he turned away, perhaps trying to escape my notice. But if it meant seeing him smile...

"Wow," he said. "You really bear-ied that joke into the ground."

"Hey! That was good! Oh, and I actually have a science joke for you!"

"Oh yeah?"

"Why did the protons vote for Harry Potter for president?"

Thomas blinked, his mouth falling open in the absolute confusion that this setup had already become. I could barely stifle my laughter long enough to deliver the punchline. "Because they didn't want to elect Ron!"

"Umm?"

"Elect Ron? Electron?"

Thomas shook his head.

"Okay, last one. I promise. What's the difference between an apple and an orphan?"

"What's that?"

"Well, I mean. You pick an apple..."

"Alexander!"

"Hey! I'm allowed to make that joke! Nobody else is!"

"Yeah, except maybe Aaron. Lafayette. Hercules. Maria. Technically John to a point—"

"Okay, whatever!" I laughed, slightly nudging him with my elbow. Thomas cast me a sweet smile, but eventually, his eyes fell to the pavement in front of us and his wandering lost its purpose, and he looked like a raft floating aimlessly in a vast, vast ocean.

"Are you absolutely sure you're alright?" I asked again, and though I hated to pry and I hated to stir up trouble where no trouble existed, it killed me to see him like this.

Thomas nodded, clutching at his fingers and tearing at his skin. And just like I always did, I slid forward and gripped his hands, pulling them away. Because I couldn't bear to see him hurt himself, and I couldn't bear to know his mind was chasing after thoughts that were better left to the darkness of the night they were born from. I took a deep breath in, and he mimicked the action, again and again, until his body relaxed just a little bit more.

"I'm just worried. That's all. I've never been to this kind of thing before. You called them, right? They're expecting us? What if they don't like me? What if they think something's wrong with me? What if—"

"Thomas, it's going to be alright. I promise. I called Miss Smith and I let her know we'd be there today. I made an appointment. And how could anyone not like you?"

"I don't know. I mean...I tend to overthink things, and I tend to drive people away, I think? And I don't know, and what if they—"

"Hey, Thomas! Relax, okay?"

He nodded, his shoulders untensing as he let out a breath. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. You know how I can get."

I rolled my eyes. "Whatever happens, I'll be right here besides you. And if you don't think it worked or helped, we won't go again. But please try this. For me?"

Thomas softened, a small smile flickering across his lips like fireflies illuminating an August evening. God, it's been so long since I've seen any of those beautiful, magical bugs; I can't wait to feel them brush against my skin and bask in their light. But with Thomas, it was never hard to imagine that ever-present garden lingering in my mind, filled to the brim with wildlife and flowers and a hidden world we didn't need to understand.

He glanced over at me and smiled gently. "Okay, Alex. For you."

"There's that beautiful smile that I love so much," I said, grinning. I slipped my hand into his and began to rub circles into his palm with my thumb, making him relax instantly.

It wasn't long before we found the building housing Thomas's new therapist, though it certainly seemed like hours due to the crowds pouring through the streets and the hot sun bearing down on us. Tucked between two newer and much larger buildings, its age was prevalent in its architecture, though it didn't seem run down or anything. Just classical, old.

"Are we sure this is the right place?"

"I'm absolutely sure, but if you want to check the address again, you can."

"No. I trust you." Thomas took a deep breath and opened the door. A tinkling of the bell above it greeted us.

"I'm proud of you, love," I told him as I followed him inside. There was a desk at the opposite end of the wall, and to our left there were a couple of couches and a coffee table. To our right was a staircase, leading up to the next floor, where another business probably was. The flooring was wooden, and the walls were painted a happy light blue.

It seemed friendly, everything tucked close together. The colors were bright enough to suggest an air of positivity, though the extent of its enguiniety was yet to be absolved. My hands tightened around Thomas's, unable to disguise the fact that I was just as terrified as he was. We were entrusting his deepest secrets to a complete stranger. It had taken him four years to find help amongst people he knew, two of which he had previously loved and perhaps never stopped loving. And now, somebody we didn't know was going to explore things even I hadn't uncovered, see things even I couldn't find.

I forced out a calm breath for Thomas's sake, and led him to one of the plush white couches constituting the waiting room. He gracefully sank to the chair next to me, folding his hands neatly in his lap. I let my fingers reach for his, accidentally brushing against his thigh in the process. Not that he seemed to mind or anything...

"I'll be there in just a second!" called a feminine voice from the other room.

Upon hearing that voice, Thomas's demeanor instantly changed. He perked up, and a soft smile appeared on his face. His eyes were alight with recognition. "It can't be," he murmured.

"Can't be what?"

Thomas shook his head, suddenly invested in his surroundings. He gazed around the room, looking for God knows what, but he seemed very thorough in his search. He gripped my hand tightly, and I smiled up at him.

"Everything's going to be okay, I promise."

His eyes softened. "I know. Thank you, Alexander, for doing this with me. I don't know if I'd be able to do so by myself."

"Of course! It's what I'm here for, after all. I'm happy to be your...knight in shining armor, perhaps?"

"Okay, don't get crazy now," he returned, a small laugh pooling out of his mouth like fallen silk. I could listen to that laugh for hours, let its sweet softness fill the empty, forgotten halls of my heart. It could drown me in the tide of honey and silk, and I would never know what pain is again. It was impossible not to soften upon hearing it, and briefly, all the pent up worry and stress melted away like an ice cube underneath the burning summer sun.

"Alright, sorry for the wait," said the woman, appearing in the doorway. She stopped, glanced up from the file folder clenched tightly between her fingers, and looked up with a considerable frown. Her eyes went wide with surprise as she found Thomas, her mouth falling open into a neat little "o". She definitely looked familiar, a face I had seen millions of times before, but it seemed so distant, too. I wonder if I had seen her passing by before?

But then I glanced at Thomas, who smiled softly as he watched her, hugging his body in an unspoken apology I recognized all too well.

He knew her.

A moment passed, then Thomas said, "Hi, Abby."

"Th-Thomas?" she returned. "Are—are you really here?"

He nodded, rising to his feet. Another moment trickled by, and before I knew it, she was embracing him tightly. Laughter rung through the small room, and pure and utter delight laced both of their voices. I clenched my hands and watched, hating how thin my smile felt on my lips.

"Thomas Jefferson, you little shit!" she shouted, earning herself a laugh from Thomas as he let go of her. "Do you understand how fucking worried we've been you goddamnedbitchcuntfuckassshit?"

"Okay, okay," he returned, a spark igniting in his eyes. "That was undeserved." Then, as if an afterthought, he grinned and added, "You filthy Bostonite."

"It's actually Bostonian."

"Aww. The funny thing about that is I actually, um, oh right! I don't care, so..."

I frowned, watching him carefully. Where had this side of him been hiding? And how had it been so quick to just materialize out of thin air?

"So how would you respond if I called you a Virginite?"

"Yeah, whatever. Just don't call me a—" He paused, as if remembering I was there. A small laugh shook his body as he cast me an utterly apologetic smile, one which I could not resist. "Uh, never mind."

I could feel the heat burning in my face, my mouth dropping a little in utter surprise. Not worry. Not anger. Just surprise.

"No, by all means. Please, continue," Abby said, holding out a hand.

"Uh huh."

The woman—Abby, I suppose—softened after a moment. She stepped backwards from him, that telltale gaze warping her smile as she stared at Thomas. There was that inherent sadness, that misplaced mistrust, and of course, the curiosity fueled by a subtle fury. She crossed her arms, hugging her body. "What happened with you?"

And in response, Thomas faltered. "What—what do you mean?" But of course he knew exactly what she meant.

"You disappeared, Thomas. For four years. Nothing. No word at all. Do you know how fucking stressed out we were?"

"Language!"

"German."

"Verpiss dich," Thomas returned, a joke I clearly didn't get. I swallowed hard, definitely not used to just not being a part of things. That's not to say I'm jealous, or anything! Because I'm not!

Even though a humorous tone peppered her voice, she continued all the same. "Seriously. What happened to you? We had thought...well, we honestly though something bad had happened to you, and nobody had told us. So unless you died and just came back to life, you better have a damned good explanation for how abruptly you disappeared from our lives, you little—"

Thomas's smile disappeared. "Abigail, look, I have a perfectly good explanation." He perked up again. "Is John here?"

"Oh," said Abigail, waving her hand. "He's off upstairs lawyering or something."

"I don't think that's a word."

"I don't think you're a word," she shot back, earning herself another laugh from Thomas.

"Hi, umm, hello," I said, feeling awkward.

"Oh! Right," Thomas said, turning back to me and grinning. "Alexander, this is my friend, Abigail Smith. Abby, this is...um, well this is Alexander. We're kinda...well, he's my boyfriend."

"Oh!" She seemed genuinely surprised. "I didn't realize you and James—"

Thomas coughed, loudly.

"Right." She turned to me. "I'm sorry. What was your name again?"

"Alexander. Alexander Hamilton."

Recognition flashed through Abigail's gaze. "Hey I know that name!"

"Probably because I told you it when I called you."

I truly didn't mean for it to come out so aggressively, but I wasn't quite sure what to think of her yet. She seemed rude, aggressive, and the way she talked to Thomas ignited a spark of righteous anger inside of me, I like to think. But she also brought something out in him, something I hadn't seen in a very, very long time. Even when he had joked around like this with Aaron and Lafayette, it had felt very halting, as if he was testing waters he didn't belong in. But now, it was like he fit. So, of course, I felt uneasy, sitting here with stones in my mouth, only able to guess at whatever history had been buried here. But I couldn't take this away from Thomas, not yet. Not with the way he smiled and laughed and let himself relax, for once, like there were no shadows looming over him. So I swallowed down my unease and tried my best to play nice, to play fair.

A frown appeared on her face. She glared at me and rolled her eyes. "No, no. I know it, I swear. I've heard it before."

"Well, yes," Thomas began, smiling apologetically. "Alexander is actually—" But before he could explain, I cut him off.

"Well that's weird because I don't know you. And John? As in our John?"

Thomas shook his head, still smiling.

"Jay?"

"Who?"

"Well, well, well," said a voice from the top of the stairs. It was tinted by an aggressive accent not to dissimilar from Abigail's. And it was familiar, in all the worst ways. For the man standing at the top os the stairs, short stature and crossed arms, was a figure come straight from my distant memories and unacknowledged nightmares.

Who I hated.

A lot.

Of course.

I froze upon hearing the voice wash over me, my fingernails sinking into my palms with utter distaste. I pressed myself into the corner of the couch, placating myself with stupidly murmured words that made no sense, looking back on them. For once, I truly wished I could disappear.

But Thomas lit up upon hearing the voice, upon seeing the man standing at the top of the stairs. Glee shone in his eyes like starlight beaming down upon an unworthy world, and as beautiful as his smile grew, I could not simply put away my unease. He stepped forward, as if to greet him, but the man at the top of the stairs held up a hand warningly.

Thomas froze, his smile flickering, making it seem like a blackhole had swallowed the sky. He cleared his throat, hugging his body. I rose to my feet and pressed a hand against his back, though the movement felt wrong here, in a place where I clearly wasn't wanted.

"Jefferson," hissed the man as he made his way to where Thomas was standing and looked up at him.

A pause. Then, slowly, Thomas relaxed again. He must have tried so hard to maintain that neutral, almost bored expression, but he was just far too excited, and the smile won over like it always did. "Adams," he returned, attempting a cool, unbroken tone. But a moment passed, and he couldn't hold it back, and he laughed, and it was a lyrical sound to behold. "Oh, God. Hi! It's, um, it's great to see you."

And Adams grinned in return. "What are you doing here?!"

"Oh, actually, uh, I need your help."

"Yeah? You need my help? My expertise in the great, wonderful field of the law?"

Thomas did not miss a beat. As smooth as falling into old rhythms, a language once forgotten but easily remembered. "Well, um, I got into some legal trouble and—"

"Dammit, Thomas! Did you murder someone?"

Thomas hung his head in mock-shame.

"I can't believe you," Abigail said, shaking her head in that equally playful manner. "After all the threats and all the warnings, and you still managed to fuck up."

"What can I say? He had it coming."

"No, but seriously. What are you doing here?"

Thomas's smile flickered a bit, his hand crossing over his body to hug his other arm. "Oh, uh, I'm actually here for, um...for Abby."

Adams tilted his head, that gentle frustration of not fully understanding interspersed through his frown. Then, realization flashed in his eyes. "It's the fucking pot farm, isn't it? I told you you'd get in trouble for that you fucking—"

"I'm sorry," I interjected, staring hard at Thomas. "The what farm?"

Thomas froze. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, and offered me an apologetic shrug. But the light didn't die from his eyes, that gorgeous, unadulterated light, like the glow of the stars soaking into a flower-filled meadow, and it was impossible to stay as tense as I was, even when surrounded by people I did not trust or particularly like. He was here, and he was happy, and he made me melt and lose all sense in my brain. So how could I possibly stop myself from indulging in a smile, a laugh?

"Well, I think we have to talk about this, Thomas," I returned, nudging him softly with my elbow to show I was joking.

"I don't have a pot farm, Alexander." A pause. "Any more."

And Adams had frozen, staring at me with a disgust he made no attempt to hide. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Good to see you too," I returned curtly.

"Okay, uh, shoo. Bye. Go away. Nobody here likes you. Why are you even here?"

"Hey, be nice," Thomas told him as he returned to where I was standing. "Right. I kinda forgot you two hate each other."

Adams frowned, obviously confused. What else is new, though?

"That's how I know you!" Abigail exclaimed proudly. "We all hate you!"

I let out a frustrated puff of air.

But I caught Thomas watching me, an apology riding high in his eyes, unspoken words lingering on his lips. And all I could do was smile and coerce the annoyance and sudden worry out of me with an easy smile, the kind I had reserved solely for him.

I would do this, for him. Even if I'd rather gorge my eyes out, even if I'd rather walk a thousand miles on burning coals. If it meant not ever having to wake up again with that lightning bolt of fear frying my heart, the fear that Thomas had left me in the dead of night as easily as he had slipped into my life, the fear that I would never, ever know his love and his touch and the music of his voice, the fear of losing him and every last good thing he brought and made life worth living...as long as I never had to be alone, I would do this for Thomas. And I would smile the entire time.

"It's good," I said, reassuring him. "I'm good."

Adams rolled his eyes, his glare boring holes into my body."Well, frankly, nobody asked, and if you're only here to make our lives miserable—"

"That's enough." He did not say it roughly, or rudely, but it was firm and it was cold. Thomas's fingers drifted down, finding my hand, and I must admit that my heart skipped a beat at the hard tone he had adopted, only to come to my defense. His hand squeezed mine, and a welcoming reminder of warmth surged through me. A flare of protectiveness flashed through his eyes, and as utterly hot as it was, the last thing I needed was for Thomas to isolate himself from his friends even more for my sake.

"Hey," I said as softly as I could, reaching for his shoulder. It was hard to ignore the way the two of them watched me. "It's okay, Thomas! If you want, I can totally wait at home!"

"No!" Thomas gripped my hand tighter, eyes going wide at the prospect. "Please," he said a bit quieter, almost embarrassed by the outburst. "Stay with me." 

I faltered. "Are you sure? I don't want to make this harder for you, love."

His smile came haltingly, slightly refracted as if distorted by water. "I couldn't imagine doing this without you," he said quietly, and fuck what else can I possibly do with the expectant, absolutely gorgeous way he said that?

I'm fucking done. I love him so much, it's absolutely ridiculous.

"Of course," I said. "I'll stay." And, making my voice a tad bit more embellishing just to hear him laugh, I added, "I'll even put up with this...man...for you."

Thomas beamed. "How will you ever survive?"

"I don't know. Big sacrifice here."

And then came his laugh, and I relaxed at once, and gripped his hand a bit tighter.

"Hi," Adams said, clearing his throat. "Hi, um, yes. What the absolute fuck?" He turned to Thomas. "Have you lost your fucking mind, or?"

Thomas went cold. Like uncharacteristically cold. Like the kind of cold that could only be described as defensive and calculating and suddenly—oh fuck.

"No. I haven't. Alexander and I...well, we live together, for one. We're...close."

For Adams, the world must have splintered into two incomplete parts. "You're what? You and him? Tell me that's a joke, because if not, then you've absolutely lost whatever sense you have in your brain."

Thomas's jaw locked. It seemed as though all the warmth had suddenly been leached from the room. He stepped forward. Suddenly, I was very afraid and very turned on at the same time. Fuckity fuck. "Yes. I have. And you're going to be nice to him. Do you understand me?"

"Thomas—"

"Do you?"

Abigail cleared her throat, interjecting like a civilized person. She flashed me a smile. It felt genuine enough, almost approving. "Don't worry, Thomas. We understand."

Adams said nothing.

"Great!" Thomas returned, beaming once more, as if he hadn't been the literal embodiment of a winter sweeping past a moment before. And the warmth returned, and I could not hide my smile no matter how hard I tried, and come to think of it, I didn't really want to.

"So," Adams said, a moment later, and the tension dissolved quite immediately as he and Thomas both shared a knowing smile. The kind of smile that held millions of apologies and explanations, the kind of smile offered to family you hadn't seen in seasons. I'd never know the extent of their friendship, and it bothered me, to have yet another thing presented in front of me that only proved how little I truly know of Thomas when it comes to his past.

Thomas smiled, hiding his laugh behind his hands. I bit down on my tongue.

"It's a...it's a long story," he said with a laugh, squeezing my hand tighter in his. I squeezed back, our own secret message that could only be decoded by one another.

"Well let's hear it."

"John," Abigail said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Thomas and I should get started."

"Oh, and that reminds me, you said you didn't think it was going to be him."

"There are more than one Thomas in the world."

"Yeah, well, so? Bottom line. I was right. You were wrong. And so I can laugh at you. Hah."

Thomas rolled his eyes. "You two are so utterly childish. Just get married already and let the rest of us live in peace, yeah?"

"Well, you're a bitch," Adams returned.

"Very creative. How long did it take you to think of that one?" Thomas shot back without missing a beat, crossing his arms and actually smirking. I tried not to notice how easily he let go of my hand.

"For your information, it took a month," Adams returned.

I gripped my hands tighter, knowing that I did not belong. Knowing that maybe I had no right to be here, to hear his laughter and his joy. And part of it stung, for it to be delivered by somebody I detested with almost every part of my being.

But I pushed it away and forced a smile, for his sake.

"Go get therapy and leave me the fuck alone," Adams said after yet another insult that Thomas had fired at him that seemed to betray everything I thought I knew about the lovely boy I had fallen in love with it.

Abigail opened her mouth, then closed it again. "Alright, Thomas, come on," she said. Thomas went to join her.

"I'll wait out here," I said. "I promise."

"Thank you, Alexander." Thomas smiled at me, like the rest of the world had lost its meaning. "We'll be right out, I promise."

Adams must have realized that staying here meant spending time with me, for he rapidly shot up from the chair he had just fallen into.

"I'm coming too," Adams decided.

"Uh, no you're not," she said.

"What!? He's my friend too, Abby. I have a right to know why he practically ghosted us for three years! We thought he was dead Abby. We thought something horrible had happened to him. I have every right to know why he decided to leave us in the dark for so long, just as much as you do."

Thomas lowered his head in shame.

"And you'll know. Soon enough. But not right now. You know I have a way and a method I like to do things."

"Aaaaaaabbyyyyyy," Adams whined. "Please?"

Thomas glanced up at me, and preceded to grin like an idiot. "Sit down John, you fat mother—"

"Alright, go away," he interrupted, adopting a deadpan expression. "Just go away."

"Haha. You're so funny," I said at almost the exact same time, but seeing him smile like that was more than enough to earn forgiveness. He was wonderful, and his smile only exemplified that.

Thomas and Abigail grinned before disappearing into the next room.

So, seeing that there was nothing else to do now that Thomas had disappeared behind a door, putting more and more space between us, I fell to the couch I had been sitting on earlier and pulled out my phone, if only to placate my wandering mind.

Adams would not leave me alone, however.

"So, umm, I missed a lot."

"Yeah," I responded coldly.

Adams took a deep breath. "I just want an explanation. I have a right to know what happened."

"What happened isn't for me to say."

There was silence for a second. "So you two are friends now?"

"We're dating, actually," I returned, trying to keep the snideness out of my voice. In the long term, it wouldn't win me any points. If Thomas wanted civility, then civility he would get.

"You're...you're dating?" His brain seemed to break with that. "You! You and him! What the fuck? I honestly never thought Thomas would stoop that low! I mean, you of all people? You're a selfish, immature—"

"You know," I said, "You can shut the fuck up now?
I get the point. And the only reason I'm here and tolerating you is for his sake."

"He's actually happy with you?"

"Uh, yes. He is."

"What? How? You two used to adamantly hate each other! You were always at each other's throats, always arguing and fighting. What changed? And last I checked, Thomas was dating James. I never liked him myself, but he made Thomas happy. So what the fuck happened?"

It took everything I had not to lash out, not to explode into a ball of righteous anger and deliver the killing blow, but the image of Thomas smiling and laughing from a few seconds ago filled my head.

"People change."

"I'm aware of that. But how? Why? What happened?"

"Once again, that's not for me to say."

"Right. Sorry. I forgot myself. Why would you want to talk to a nuisance with no sense like me?"

"Strange that you're even trying to start a conversation with a creole bastard like me." I glanced up at him and he was glaring at me, his arms crossed as he leaned against the wall.

I forgot how much people annoyed me sometimes. I guess Eliza and then Thomas really softened my edges, huh?

"You know Thomas is my friend, right?"

"Yep. I do. I just don't really give a fuck."

A moment passed, neither of us overly happy with the course this whole day had gone. I exhaled, forced my fingers to relax. They itched, needing to be wrapped around a pen, needing to pour my anger and frustration out into harmless, senseless words.

Adams sighed. "Do you even know why?"

"Yeah," I responded, knowing what he was referring to.

"Then what was it? Did he just get tired of us? Did he just stop caring?"

"It's not that," I returned.

"Then what is it?"

"You need to hear it from Thomas," I sighed, glancing up at him. "I'm serious. I doubt he wanted to push you away, but...I don't think he had a choice."

Adams frowned. "If you hurt him—if you have hurt him—it'll be the very. Last. Thing. That you ever do."

"Trust me pal, you can get in the back of the line," I returned. "His other friends have got you covered."

But that still didn't address the mounting frustration that was on the edge of bursting inside of me—why did everybody think I was going to hurt him?

"Do you have anything to drink?"

"Drinks are for people who tell others what happened to somebody they care about."

"So that's a no."

"You know I'm going to keep doing this until I have what I want, right?"

"For someone who's a lawyer, you don't have very good deduction skills."

"Lawyers also should know the full story before they say anything, Hamilton. You know that as well as I do. You better tell me what happened."

"Or what? What will you do?"

And to that, Adams couldn't respond. He faltered, crossing his arms. "I just want to know what happened to my friend. Is that too much to ask for?
I...I was really worried, you know." He turned away from me, and I suspect it was to hide tears.

Okay. Even I'm not that stone-hearted.

"It has to do with why Thomas is here."

"Abigail won't tell me. Patient-doctor confidentiality and all that."

"Then you'll have to get Thomas to tell you himself."

Adams nodded.

"Don't be mad."

"How can I not be mad? You're withholding information from me because you think that you're so much better just because Thomas suddenly sees something in you that, frankly, doesn't exist—"

"No I mean Thomas. Don't be mad at Thomas. He's already suffered enough and I just want him to be happy."

Adams blinked.

"You can hate me all you want. Hell, I know you do. But please, just don't take this away from him. There's a reason I brought him, here, okay?"

Adams was quiet for a moment. Then, softly, so that he was barely audible, he murmured, "I thought you didn't believe in therapy?"

"Like I said, people change."

And a silence descended upon the two of us again. An uncomfortable silence, but not necessarily a crushing one. As the minutes ticked by, I listened to the ticking of the great clock in the corner, standing proud to create its own music. To overcome with worry and messy anxiety to lose my mind to my phone, I simply stared at that clock, counting the seconds.

4,234. 4,235. 4,236.

Finally, after an hour and a half, Thomas and Abigail appeared from the other room. Abigail looked crushed, while Thomas's expression was impossible to read.

I watched him for a moment as the two slowly slipped into the room, neither saying a word. I rose carefully, reaching out an arm to him, and with no small look of relief and security, he crossed over to me and took up his spot at my side.

"Well, neither of you are dead," he joked, trying to break the silence. "So that's good, I guess."

It didn't work.

"How'd it go?" Adams asked, folding his hands neatly behind his back.

"It...went," Abigail returned.

"Are you going to tell me what happened to you?" Adams asked, rounding on Thomas. "Or do I have to guess?"

Thomas paused. A small smile flickered across his face. It looked broken. Incomplete. It must be hard, having to open up, time and time again, to an endless litany of people and never be quite sure of how they's react. How many more times did he have to do this before enough was enough? "Well," he said, softly. "Um...without going into too much detail, uh, James and I...well...it wasn't good. At all. He, um...God. I don't even know what to say..." Thomas glanced for me to help. I squeezed his hand, offered him support. And he glanced up at Adams and Abigail, two more friends that had been left behind, and he smiled that sad smile once more. "He...um, he abused me."

I'm not sure what I was expecting. I'm not sure if I waited for the world to split apart, for Adams to march out the door and track James down, for everything to stop moving and go absolutely still and silent, but the funny thing is, it never does. Even as those wretched words pour out of his mouth time and time again, time never stops moving forwards. The future never stops coming.

But, I suppose, that also means that we never stop healing.

"Next Thursday," Abigail said to Thomas. "Same time."

Thomas nodded and smiled. "Thank you. I'm sorry, I really am. I just—"

Adams seemed to recover from the shock that had swept over him, rendering him stiffer than stone. Haltingly, he stepped forward, reaching out for Thomas. "Thomas...I had no—I had no idea." The words barely escaped his mouth, drowned in a language of tears that was starting to sound way too familiar. "If I had—if I had known—"

"It's okay, John, really," Thomas said. "There was nothing anybody could have done."

Adams did not hug him. I don't think they needed to. I'd never know precisely what it was, but for a lightning flash of a second, they exchanged a smile. And that seemed enough for now.

"Well," Thomas said. "I guess we better go. I have kids to teach and whatnot."

"You teach gremlins?"

"They're not gremlins, John! And yes. I practice violin with them."

And the moment was lost, but so much the better.

"Goodbye, Thomas!" Abigail said, and she actually did hug him. And he seemed to enjoy it just as much. "Please, don't ever do that to us again."

"No, the plan is that I'll disappear and resurface to see you every four years."

"Like a leprechaun?" Adams asked.

Thomas opened his mouth, and closed it again. He slapped his hand against John's shoulder. "Sure. Just like a leprechaun. Good job, John!"

"Okay fuck off."

Thomas shrugged. "Absolutely."

"Have a horrible day," Adams returned.

"Choke on a lego," Thomas shot back, grinning.

I'm not even going to ask.

"Thanks for not telling John," he said shortly after we had left and put the building behind us. "I, um...I really appreciate that. I needed to tell him myself, you know?"

"Of course, love. Feel better?"

Thomas nodded.

"Are we going to turn this into a regular thing?"

He nodded again, and I smiled.

"Thank you, love. I'm proud of you, know that?"

"Yes," Thomas murmured. "I do." He looked up at me and smiled.