//TW: swearing, trauma\\

Alexander

The gray light danced across his face, his eyes an emotionless vacuum as he stared out the window, lost to a world a million miles away. He sat perfectly still, refusing to even blink; it chilled my core how cold he looked. I wanted to reach out to him. I had to. But the divide between us was so remarkably great that it would take much more than just a few well-intentioned words to bridge it, and right now, words were all I had.

So I stared at the boy I promised to protect, watching him as he drifted further and further away from me.

Finally, I shifted, making as much noise as possible. I hated to snap Thomas out of his thoughts, to pull him away from whatever refuge he had found in the deep, tucked away alcoves of his mind surrounded by his own creations and promises to himself, but I couldn't live with myself if I scared him even in the tiniest of ways.

It didn't matter anyway; Thomas hardly noticed.

I pushed off the blanket and sat up. I reached towards him, then thought better of it last second, and left my hand hanging in midair. A sigh worked its way to my lips, but I forced myself to keep it down, to bury my frustration and unwelcome fear. When I finally broke the curse of silence, I made sure to infuse as much warmth as I possibly could into my voice, if only to melt the ice that had frozen around him, keeping him apart from the roses and the flowers I had grown to associate with him. It wasn't fair, how efficient a killer the frost is. How fatal its touch is, that sense of finality and lost sweeping over a desolate land and utterly destroying any life.

"Good morning, love," I said, and it just did not seem like enough.

Thomas spared me a quick glance, offered a half-formed smile, then turned back to the window.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, shifting over to his side and following his gaze. Raindrops slid down the glass silently, the usually comforting pitter-patter strangely absent. The sky was cloaked in a deep, apathetic gray as the rain poured, and down below, the streets were desolate. Thomas loved days like these: the absolute freedom and alternative possibilities presented as the rain fell. He loved the quiet, the mysterious new world. He loved the song of the wind and the rain and the birds after the storm.

But not today.

"Thomas?"

"Hmm?" he asked, eyes unfocused.

"Are you...are you okay?"

"Umm," he said, grappling for an answer to a question that was unfair of me to ask in the first place. Eventually he gave up, shrugged, and let his hands fall to his lap. "I guess not."

"Do you want to talk about it?" I asked. Every part of me longed to wrap my arms around him, to pull him closer and feel the gentle swells and curves of his body against mine. I wanted to hold him in that moment more than I had ever wanted anything else, but I had to fight down all of those instincts and keep my hands to myself so I didn't hurt him, didn't overstep.

"I guess I have to, huh?"

"Not if you don't want to," I whispered, shifting away to leave as much space between us as I assumed was necessary. He tensed at the tiniest movement, finally breaking his eye contact with the rain and turning to me.

"Do—do you?"

I shook my head in a sorry excuse of a lie only explained away by the fact that I absolutely could not allow Thomas to suffer through anything more today. If he didn't want to talk about it, then he shouldn't fucking have to. If he wanted to remain in a quiet state of bliss, I'd do everything in my power to keep him there.

I only wish I could actually, truly help him.

"Is there something I can do?" I asked, searching his face for an answer.

"Umm...if it's not too much...could you, uh, hold me?"

I almost laughed at the simple request, and the tension in my shoulders dissipated. Without answering him, I shifted, wrapping my arms around his waist and pulling him as close to me as I could physically get him. Thomas sighed, burying his face in my chest as I pushed myself back so my spine pressed against the wall. I rubbed his back gently, kissing his forehead as lightly as I could.

"Thank you," he whispered.

"Don't thank me, Thomas."

He curled up against me, making himself as small as possible so he could better fit in my arms. I took in a deep inhale, breathing in the scent of his perfume. God, he was so wonderful, the way he laid in my arms. It was the most natural thing in the world and yet so foreign of a feeling.

I held him closer.

"You're perfect, you know that?"

He laughed, softly, sadly. "I wish."

"I'm serious."

He turned to face me, gazing up at me with those gorgeous, brown eyes filled by a deep pool of swirling starlight. I pushed a stray curl away from his face, just so I could better drink in the sight of his eyes. But everything changed in the span of a moment, his body stiffening and a sadness washing over him. "How can you still want me after everything that happened last night?" he whispered, beginning to tremble with the oncoming assault of those horrid tears.

"Because, love," I returned, voice just as low. "You are wonderful. And to claim otherwise would be just flat out wrong." I softened, taking his hand in mine and bringing it up to my lips. I felt the way he stiffened against me as I kissed his knuckles lightly, and it still amazed me how the smallest gestures affect him the way they do. His face flushed, a smile touching the corners of his lips.

"You know that what happened last night is not your fault, right?"

He didn't answer me right away. "I...I know. I just—I feel so...vulnerable. So helpless." He sighed, returning his head to its original position, resting against the swell of my chest. "And...oh, God."

"Shh, love," I mumbled, pressing my mouth against his cheek. He relaxed, so I tightened my grip around his body and pulled him a fraction of an inch closer. "I'm here. We're here."

For a very long while, neither of us spoke. We stayed in that same moment lost to the delicate touch of time, watching the rain fall upon the unsuspecting city. I kept Thomas as close to me as I could, not daring to move, not daring to fracture the small measures of peace we had created. He was mine and I was his and in those long minutes, that was the only truth to this world.

"Do you wanna do anything today, love?"

"We have class."

"We could skip."

A pause. Then, despite it all, Thomas laughed. It wasn't one of his sad, distant laughs, but rather a small, easy giggle that filled my heart like a balloon, drifting high up into a cloudless sky. I softened upon hearing it, allowing myself to finally smile. "Alexander Hamilton? Suggesting we skip? You feeling alright?" His voice was still hoarse from what must have been last night's sobs and the overall horribleness of the situation, but at least he was joking around again. Perhaps all of his progress hadn't been rendered obsolete by the human personification of a dumpster fire, after all.

"Ah, I gotta keep you on your toes, you know? Can't become too predictable, now."

"You're anything but predictable, Alexander. But that's why I like you so much, I guess." Thomas closed his eyes, and for a fleeting second, I thought he was going to fall asleep in my arms. "No, we probably should go on with the world, you know?" He opened his eyes. "Plus, I have my violin classes today. Can't skip those," he said with a soft laugh.

"I haven't heard you play in a while," I murmured, the realization striking me like a bolt of lightning.

"Do you want me to?"

"Well, I love listening to you play."

Thomas stayed still for a moment. Then, with a sigh, he shifted backwards and out of my arms. I leaned forwards, cupping his face in my hands before he could leave me entirely, and whispered, "Kiss?"

"Yes, please."

I kissed him as lightly as possible, surrendering myself to him just as he did the same to me. He tasted so sweet, still, like chocolate and honey. I savored the feeling of him against me, the way his lips found mine. After a brief second, a way-too-brief second, Thomas slid away and fell to the floor, landing lightly on his knees. He reached under the bed and pulled out his violin case as I rested on the ground next to him, pulling my knees to my chest. Thomas inspected the instrument for a moment, as delicate with it as if it was its own wonder pulled straight from the fantastical world filled with magic and angels and starlight that he himself had come from. I waited in baited breath as he slid the violin against his neck, bringing the bow up to the strings. He considered for a moment, then began to play.

He unleashed something entirely new upon a world that had never deserved him in the first place. A song that spun golden threads into stories we'd never get to hear and places we'd never get to see. It left me breathless, just being able to sit there and listen to him and finally understand how he felt. Thomas seemed to pour himself into the song, each and every note and the way it filled the air. The room seemed to change form around me, morphing from the dull gray of an apartment to a beautiful night sky alive with starlight and a thousand different galaxies all untouchable. Gold and silver twinkled, weaving through my vision like ribbons. He squeezed his eyes shut in the most focused way, as if his life depended on the rich, intrinsic beauty of the violin and the way with which he manipulated it.

It was quite inspiring, to sit and watch him create. Like watching a bird soar through the air, graceful and unburdened. Like watching a deity craft a planet, forming thousands or creatures and lifeforms from absolutely nothing.

It was over before it had even really begun, leaving a hollow hole in my chest that could only be filled by his music. I blinked, still trying to adjust to the sense of inexplicable calm that had washed over me in the few minutes we had sat there.

"That was beautiful, Thomas."

He set down the violin gently, considering. "Thank you," Thomas responded after a moment, as if only now returning to reality. He offered me a small smile, then began to return the violin to its case.

I reached forwards, brushing my hand against his shoulder. He stiffened at first, waiting for something, but eventually, he relaxed against me and shifted closer, his fingers brushing against mine.

"I'm sorry."

Thomas turned to blink up at me. "You...you didn't do anything."

"I know. But still. It's—I—it's horrible what you have to go through. And I wish I could help but I have no idea how and I want to give you the world, Thomas, but the truth is that I don't think I can give it to you and—"

"Hey," he said softly, the space between us diminishing at a rapid rate. The scent of him washed over me and the worries whispering in my mind seemed to melt away at once, chased away by the very being of his presence. "Alexander, please don't blame yourself. I think you're wonderful."

I opened my mouth, a thousand things sitting on the tip of my tongue, eager to pour out into the world and confess to him just how much I needed him. I almost said it, those three words. They were cruel just as much as they were beautiful, a lie just as much as they were a promise. I almost let them spill out into the garden we had made for ourselves, and whether they would poison the flowers or help them to bloom, I didn't know. I almost said those three damnable words, just on instinct, just on what I thought I knew.

Almost, for a knock on the door shattered the last remaining notes still lingering in the air, and the spell was lost. The words escaped me like a hazy dream swirling through the air, tipping over the fragile precipice of reality. 

Thomas stiffened at once, though his grip on me only tightened.

"Ignore it," I mumbled in annoyance, drawing him against my body and running my fingers through his hair. "It's probably not important anyway."

"Still," Thomas whispered.

"It could be...a vacuum salesman."

"Yeah?"

"Okay, if that's so unbelievable, who do you think it is?"

Thomas paused to consider. Then, with what might have been a teasing smile in any other circumstance, he said, "Magic goldfish from the future here to beg us to repent for our sins."

"Oh, yeah. Duh. That makes so much more sense," I said, rolling my eyes, but Thomas laughed so I guess everything was perfect again. "Also, what sins? You're, like, the sweetest person ever."

The person on the other side of the door knocked again, much more furiously this time, and Thomas sighed. "I should probably go see who that is—"

"I'll check, love," I murmured, kissing his cheek before standing up.  "Stay here, relax. I'll be right back."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, love. I think I can handle it."

"Okay. Well, I'll be here. Waiting."

"I'll be right back," I said again before leaving him in our bedroom. It hurt, to leave him behind. But I'd come back to him, no matter what. I always would.

The person at the other end of the door had steadily lost all their patience, banging on the old wood with an unwelcome fierceness that chilled something inside of me. I don't know what part of me expected the worst, but my hatred of it didn't stop me from gathering a knife from the back of one of our drawers as I passed the kitchen. It felt strange in my grasp, but I held it close.

"Alexander! You open this fucking door now!"

I sighed, reaching the door, and discarded the knife into a jacket pocket hanging from the coatrack. "Relax, would you?" I did as he asked, and Lafayette stormed past me, followed by a slightly more apologetic Aaron. But knowing what I knew about Aaron, he was only sorry he had to put up with it rather than for me. That's fine. He can go fuck himself.

And I say that in the kindest of ways in regards to one of my closest friends.

"Where's Thomas?" Lafayette demanded, crossing his arms as he sunk down into a seat at the table.

"Asleep," I lied. "Why?"

"Is he okay?" asked Aaron, sitting down at the table next to him. He stared at his hands. "When Lafayette told me—well, I didn't really want to believe him, you know?" He said this with a laugh but there was no humor to be found at all.

"Thomas...well, he's fine," I promised, joining them at the table.

"I don't think he should stay with you," Lafayette said out of nowhere, as sudden as it was hurtful.

"Uh, excuse me?"

"I just... listen, Alexander." His voice softened then, and the sadness in his eyes was too much to be imagined. "I trust you, okay? You're one of my closest friends. And I really admire everything you've done for Thomas. But I just...ugh. How do I put this? I just don't think he should have to deal with you right now."

"Please tell me that's a joke."

"Okay, don't act all fucking innocent. It isn't like you haven't hurt him before. Does a certain bridge ring any bells?"

His words, the way he forced them out behind gritted teeth, and the overarching meaning behind them cut close to home, ripping open scars that had only just healed. "Oh, because you're perfect and haven't ever hurt him either. Right. How could I forget?" I snapped in return.

"I'm not the one taking advantage of him."

"E-excuse me? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!"

"Alexander." I spun to look at the source of the voice, standing in the doorway to our room. "When you said you would handle it, I thought you meant without so much screaming."

"Oh. Sorry, Thomas. I didn't mean to...well, you know."

Thomas sighed, joining us at the table and silently sinking into the seat directly next to mine. He glanced over at Aaron and smiled. "Sorry. Maybe we'll have to reschedule this afternoon for some other time? I'm not feeling so great right now."

Aaron shrugged, leaning towards Thomas. He spoke quietly, as if in a conspiratorial whisper meant only for the two of them. "That's fine. I suppose Newsies can wait, if only for a little." He paused, softened. "How are you holding up?"

Thomas shrugged, gazing out the window at the rain. "I'll be okay. You don't have to worry."

"Of course we worry," Lafayette said, remarkably softer as he drifted down into the empty seat once again. "Oh, uh, this is for you." He shoved a shopping bag towards Thomas, offering the taller boy a small smile.

"I can't accept this," he returned, without even looking through the bag.

"Thomas—"

"No, I can't—"

"Thomas, please. I know it isn't going to fix anything but I just...I want you to know that we are on your side. We are here for you."

For a while, a steady silence filled the gap Lafayette's words left. Finally, Thomas accepted the bag and rifled through it, and it wasn't long before a tiny smile overcame his face. "Thank you."

Lafayette grinned, the tension dissolving from his shoulders. It seemed easier to breathe, now. "Ah, it's okay. I am your best friend for a reason, correct?"

"Mint chocolate chip is my favorite."

"Bitch!" Aaron exclaimed, earning himself a soft laugh from Thomas. "I'm the one who fucking paid for it!"

I stared at my boyfriend, my Thomas, noting how relaxed he appeared among his friends. I reached forward slowly, taking his hand in mine. In the briefest of seconds, he caught my eye, and even despite the prying eyes of this selfish world, something pure and untainted flashed between us, quicker than lightning illuminating a stormy sky before plunging everything back into darkness.

"Do...do you want to stay with Lafayette or Aaron?" I asked quietly, to which the two of them promptly shut up, their bickering still lingering in the air, half-finished. The question burned my throat as it escaped but I had to know.

"No," he answered, immediately. His face flushed a little as the syllable resounded through the air. "Not that I don't want to, but..." His hand squeezed mine, and I squeezed back. "I'm just...I'm happy with Alexander," he said, and while he looked at Lafayette I could tell it wasn't meant for him. "And I want to stay with him."

"Okay, but why though?"

"Aaron—!"

"Well, if that's what you want," Lafayette said softly, "Then I trust you. But you always know you can come talk to me, if something's bothering you."

Thomas nodded, easing forwards. His hand drifted away from mine, sliding forwards so he could fold them on the table and rest his chin on top. God, he looked so tired.

"Do you want us to come back later?" Aaron asked.

"It's up to you. But thank you, guys. I really appreciate it. I...you mean the world to me."

Lafayette and Aaron exchanged a look, said their goodbyes, and promptly left us, but not before Lafayette rolled back the sleeves of Thomas's sweater, inspected his arms, and enveloped him in a hug.

"So, what's in the bag?" I asked, fully intending to hear him laugh or see him roll his eyes or something to prove that all his progress hadn't been undone.

Instead, Thomas shrugged and passed it towards me. "Ice cream. Candy. Stuff I probably don't need."

"Well, you have to eat something. I think we have some bagels in there if you want one of those—?"

"I'm okay."

"Thomas—"

"I'm sorry, Alexander. I just can't right now."

"You didn't eat at all yesterday!"

"I know—"

"Please? For me? I'm worried about you, love."

Thomas sighed, his shoulders pitching forwards. "Can I eat lunch, instead?"

"You have to have something now to tide you over. How about a granola bar?"

"Okay."

"Thank you, love," I murmured, kissing his cheek softly before fetching him the granola bar. He accepted it quietly and wolfed it down, covering his face while he ate as if embarrassed by his own hunger.

"I know you don't want to talk about this, but we kind of have to," I said, once he was finished. He already knew what I was going to say, judging by the way his face fell even more. "Come on, love. You know how much I hate having to watch you go through all this shit. Let's talk to somebody, somebody who can help."

I stood up, offering him my hand. He stared at it for a swift second before accepting it, and I tugged him to his feet and walked him over to the couch. The second we sat down, I wrapped my arms firmly around him, and he melted into them. I sighed, sifting my fingers through his hair, letting my lips graze his forehead. Thomas pressed himself closer to me, and I held onto him like all of the world would try and keep us apart. It would never succeed.

"We should tell someone."

"What good would that do?" Thomas asked after a moment's hesitation, shifting backwards a little and widening the space between us. He lifted his chin so I had nothing to look at but his eyes. "If James finds out that we told someone, he's going to make life so much harder for us. For me. For you."

Frustration pooled inside of me with the persistence of stubborn bees. I swallowed down the words already rising to my mouth and tried to focus instead on how perfectly my arms looped around his waist, how pretty he looked in the gray daylight drifting in through the windows hardly obscured by the cotton, how sweet he was on basic principle. The floor opened up beneath me, just by thinking about last night and the horrible monster that hurt the most beautiful boy in the entire world.

I need to tell him that more often, though, on a completely unrelated note.

"Thomas, please just listen to me for one minute, okay?"

He pushed himself away from me, sitting on his knees. For a moment, the briefest of moments, his eyes held mine in an unspoken challenge. Then, they dropped to the couch, and his shoulders caved inwards. I reached forwards, taking his hand in mine.

"We could get rid of him. Forever. You could be safe." I rubbed his palm with my thumb, wishing he would just look at me. "Wouldn't that be nice? To not have to worry about him anymore?"

"Alexander," he said quietly. "You might not be afraid of him, but I am."

"I'm just saying that it might be nice-"

"He's not going to go away," Thomas mumbled. "Nobody will ever believe me. And when he finds out...he'll kill me, Alexander. Worse, he could hurt you. I—I can't—I'm not going through all of this again," he choked out, the words sounding forced.

"You don't know that, though, love."

Thomas sighed, withdrawing his hand from mine. He picked at his arms hidden by sleeves, gripping and pinching and doing whatever it took to cause him pain. Sighing, I reached forwards and took his hands in my own as gently as possible.

"I just hate having to see you go through all of this," I whispered.

"I know. I'm sorry."

"It is not your fault." I leaned forwards, hooking my fingers under his chin and forcing him to meet my gaze. "I think we have to tell somebody, Thomas. He shouldn't be allowed to get away with hurting you."

"I..." Thomas closed his mouth, leaning into my hand. I stroked his face delicately, wiping away a stray tear that had managed to break free. "I can't, Alexander."

I sighed, falling. "Okay. But if he does one more thing to you, I'm getting the police involved, alright?"

"I don't want to talk about this right now," he murmured.

"Hey, look at me?" Once I had his full attention, I smiled. "I just want you to remember that you're the most amazing person in this entire world, alright? And I...I'm so incredibly lucky to be yours. I'm here for you, Thomas. No matter what."

"Thank you, Alexander." Thomas sighed, that soft, beautiful smile as subtle and warming as starlight flickering to his face. "You mean the world to me."

"Kiss?"

"Yes, please."

I leaned in, then laughed softly. "Please. God, you're adorable."

Every time I kissed him, I expected it to be different. Not lose its meaning, per say, but certainly become a bit less special. But no, it was as wonderful as it was the first time I had kissed him. Crystalline flowers still bloomed with every fleeting second; time still came to a complete standstill around us. He set his arms around the back of my neck, leaning closer into the kiss, and I melted just at his mere touch.

"Come on," I whispered against his lips, pulling away. "Let's go get breakfast."

"I'm not really hungry."

"You didn't eat dinner last night, how can you not be hungry?"

"I don't know, I'm just not that hungry." 

"Thomas, you have to eat," I insisted, crossing my arms. "Not eating isn't healthy. Take it from someone who use to skip meals back in high school, it's not good for you."

Thomas sighed, his head drooping.

"Here, tell you what? I'll go out and bring something back, so you can stay here." I grabbed my phone from the end table and slid it into my pocket.

"I wouldn't want to inconvenience you—"

"You're not an inconvenience! Not at all!"

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Trust me." Hesitantly, slowly, I extracted myself from his embrace. I quickly planted a soft kiss to his forehead once more before slipping away, leaving him blinking after me on the couch. "What do you want?"

"A bagel would be nice, I guess."

"Okay, my love. Give me five minutes. I'll be right back."

"Okay. I'll...I'll be right here."

I could feel his eyes staring after me as I left, and even after closing the door, I could still picture the sadness ripe in his gaze as he watched onwards. Guilt plagued my every thought, but I pushed it aside. I would always come back for him.

And as I furthered the distance between me and the boy I cared about more than anything, I slid my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through my contacts until I found the one I was looking for. I allowed myself no hesitation, no time to back out. No time to let the feelings of guilt and betrayal fester any longer than they needed to. I pressed the call button, waited for the dial to fade and a voice to answer, and let out a deep, weary sigh I didn't know I had trapped within me.

"Professor Washington? I have to talk to you. It's about Thomas."