//TW: swearing, suicide, self-harm, and issues with eating\\

YALL

GUESS WHO FINALLY HAS A GIRLFRIEND

oh and sorry not sorry about this chapter

Alexander

I stand alone in the center of our living room, blinking as something cold travels up the back of my spine. I spin around, trying to pinpoint the way the entire room seems off in a way I simply cannot describe. Questions circle through my head, questions that have no answers and probably never will.

How did I get here? What am I doing? Where is Thomas?

Something was wrong.

I could hear voices.

Voices whispering.

But what are they saying? The infinite sea of stars and blackness they must cross in order to reach my ears distorts them, and they fall upon me as nothing more than the empty cry of an echo down an endless tunnel. And yet, they continue their barrage on my senses, and the music that usually filters through the air, as imagined as it is as long as I'm with Thomas, has abandoned me.

Blue light pours in through the windows. It is unlike any light I have ever seen before. It is cold and distant, and makes the room look even more wrong in a fundamental way that cannot be described, only felt. The air is still and fear sits heavy in my throat like a ball of clay.

"Thomas?" My voice cuts through the air like a knife in butter.

No response.

"Thomas?" I try again.

The whispering grows louder, unbothered by the waves of rising panic that drown out my sense of logic, my reasoning. Instinct kicks in, gripping me with a cold and clammy anxiety that overrides everything else I have ever tried to understand.

I scream his name, looking for my only sense of comfort. It is a prayer, a plea to whatever divine power lurks over us, biding their time. It is my only chance at steadying myself, and for a minute, it almost works. I feel better, to have that comfort that his simple name provides as it rolls off my tongue.

"Thomas!"

But as my cry is answered by nothing but silence, that hope dwindles. And it dies right before me, like a candle flame in an unrelenting storm.

The room spins around me. The blue light seems menacing, almost as though it is mocking me.

Where is your love? it asks as it continues to bathe the room in its heartless glow. Where is he now that you have failed him?

The voices repeat the questions until it feels as if they are all I've ever known, the only words I've ever been able to comprehend. They ask again and again, and again and again, I have no answers.

My entire body shakes in the chill that has crept throughout the room with the absence of my Thomas and the warmth of his inherent starlight, but somehow I manage to step forward.

And then...

A scream echoes through the room.

It paralyzes me, and for a long moment, I forget everything that has ever existed. I forget love. I forget light. I forget warmth and flowers and music and stars and the magnificent, wonderful angelic being who offers me every last one of those things. For a long moment, that scream is all I have ever known, and the way it shakes me to my core is all I have ever felt. It reverberates through my mind long after it has reached a crescendo and fallen from the air, its translucent wings snapping in half.

It is me and the blue light and the scream and the cold.

There is nothing and nobody else and there never has been.

But the moment is over just as swiftly as the trance fell upon me, and before I have any clue as to what I am doing, three words rush off of my lips.

"I'm coming, Thomas!"

A door stands across from me, similar and different to the door to Thomas. It looms, more like a wall than a door. An imposing wall clad in iron, meant to be impenetrable, meant to separate. But if I can just reach it, if I can unlock it and throw it open and escape the intense blue light and its perverted sense of right and wrong, I can find my Thomas and I can save him.

So I run.

I run and I run but it doesn't matter. The door stays a million miles away, its golden doorknob glistening in the blue light, just in sight but always out of touch. But this is not a game of want, this is a game of necessity. I need to reach that door, because if I don't, I will lose everything that is good in this world, everything that has any meaning at all.

But the door does not care. I run for what feels like hours and the door stays worlds away. Eventually, it becomes too much. Eventually I fall to my knees, unable to breathe as the room constricts around me, walls closing in just as the door gets further and further away.

I cannot breath. I cannot think. All I can do is sit there, grasping for whatever feeble portion of my mind remains and hope that in the end, everything will be okay.

It is a fool's wish.

I close my eyes, and I feel myself sinking into the floor. Something wet and slimy wraps around my waist, pulling me down and down. Water surrounds me, and I dare not open my eyes in fear of all the memories that will surround me the second I do. It is too much. I cannot go back in the cold and the wet and the storm.

It is too much and I am not enough.

I give into the darkness, but when at last I open my eyes again, the room has shifted and changed. No longer do I stand in the kitchen, but now, the bedroom.

Our bedroom.

I glance behind me and see the other side of the door I had been trying to reach. But I have no time to revel in this short victory.

The voices only grow louder, reminding me of the situation. Of the boy who would not answer me. So my fear returns in its vicious onslaught, not pausing to wait for me to catch my breath for even a second.

"Thomas!"

My voice sounds garbled, warped, almost as though I am still drowning in an ocean of an infinite darkness keen in its intent to surround me and keep me away from the one thing I want more than anything else. If I scream now, water will fill my lungs. And yet, I power on, because I have no choice.

The sooner I find Thomas, the sooner this horrid nightmare can finally end. The sooner I can hold him in my arms, cradle him, kiss him, and promise that everything will always be alright as long as he is by my side. I can protect him from the rest of the world and the vicious, unyielding spears of hatred and anger that are always barbed and ready to attack.

The sooner I find Thomas, the sooner I can relax.

It is a desperate hope, carried through the air by a dying wind. And the single idea I put so much faith into falls and shatters into a million tiny pieces like glass in the next second, when my eyes finally catch on the unmoving shape laying sprawled across a white tile floor stained red.

My eyes catch on the shape as every muscle in my body gives way.

Somehow, I manage to stumble forwards. Somehow, I reach him. And as I turn him over, as my hands become coated in the thick, viscous liquid painting the ground a solid shade of red as deep as a scarlet sky blazing as  if caught on fire, everything blurs together. The world around me breaks and curves, losing its meaning and any sense of logic.

There were only a few things I could truly comprehend.

Thomas- my Thomas- was sprawled out on the floor.

His eyes were closed.

His body was unmoving.

Blood coated the ground, spilling out of multiple wounds on his body.

My Thomas was dead.

I open my mouth to scream, but no sound erupts when it should. I am left breathless, staggering, silent. I am left as my least favorite thing in the world: helpless.

The voices are beginning to shout.

It is overwhelming.

Way too overwhelming.

The shouts turn to screams.

A discordant symphony of voices thundering through the air.

Unrelenting panic sweeps through me all at once as I stare down at the soulless husk of the boy I cared about more than anything else in the world. The boy I had dreamed about all of my life, the only thing I had ever wanted so much it made my chest hurt and seize up just thinking about him.

He is laying, broken before me, and the emptiness in his eyes causes a pain a thousand times worse than I could ever bear.

What had once been the sweetest of songs is now the emptiest of silences. What had once been a rose blooming in the tender light of the stars now withered and died. What had once been my Thomas was now nothing more than a body. A lifeless, drained, corpse.

I cannot stare at his body so I stare at my hands. I stare at his blood coating my skin. And I know, that no matter how hard I scrub, I will never be able to get it off of me.

The blue light pours over me, and it flickers. It goes red and blue and then red and then blue, the colors of his blood and the colors of the cold seeping into my veins. It won't be long before I join him at this rate. And the light keep flickering, overwhelming, but the body stays the same. It is the body, because it is not my Thomas.

No no no no no no no.

Please please please please please please please.

This cannot be reality this cannot be happening this cannot be the fate of such a gorgeous, wonderful person.

The voices become everything I have ever known. They scream and they taunt and they cry. They jeer and they laugh and they do not stop even when they have me sobbing, a pitiful noise really compared to the unabashed roaring of the voices, as though a thousand people are crying out in agonizing pain.

But still, I sob.

It is not enough. It is worthless. I am worthless. I promised to protect him and I failed him when he needed me the most. I did not even know he was hurting. I failed.

I always fail.

But suddenly, everything falls quiet.

The voices stop.

And a whisper cuts through the silence.

"You failed me."

It was Thomas.

~•~

I shot upright in my bed, blinking in the darkness. My heart was beating louder than a drum; sweat trickled down my face.

It had to be sweat. I would never allow myself tears.

The air tasted rancid as I gasped for breath, drawing as much of it in as I could. I ran my fingers through my hair, the loose strands sticking to my face. Slowly, as shapes and outlines slowly established themselves, emerging out of the darkness as it began to melt away, I managed to reorient myself, managed to distinguish truth from what had really been nothing more than one, horrible nightmare.

That was... disturbing... to say the least. But it was just a dream. It was just a dream. Just a dream.

And at the same time, it was so much more than just a stupid fucking dream. It was my worst fear, pure and palpable. It was the monster that's chased me since I was a child. It was the projection of everything I hated about myself. It was a memory just as much as it was a nightmare.

I had seen something like that before. I had seen the people I love wither and fall before me. Everybody I love gets hurt. I cannot afford to let the same happen to Thomas.

I cannot lose him.

I wiped at my eyes, forcing my shoulders to relax as I chased the image out of my head, but I knew without a fraction of a doubt that the sight of my Thomas, laying lifeless on the floor would become a permanent part of me, forever burned in my mind.

Breathe, Alexander, breathe.

I instinctively reached out to curl around my Thomas, but with a start, I realized he wasn't there. I glanced at the spot in our bed where he usually slept to confirm this worrying fact.

He was not there. His warmth absent, his presence completely missing. I glanced around the room, just to make sure, just to see what else had disappeared. His phone was gone, too, but besides that, it seemed that everything was still in place. And that made my stomach twist all the worse, at the thought of him disappearing from the world without a single fucking trace.

And then I heard the voices.

They were faint, sounding as if they were coming from another room. But they were no doubt the same voices I had heard in my dream.

Shit.

The same endless cacophony of noise, of unintelligible wishes and desires wrapping around my body and submerging me in a darkness too swift, too massive to be fought against.

Jesus fucking Christ.

I launched out of bed.

"Please, Thomas, just hold on! I'm coming!" I called.

Please let him be alright, please let him be alright, please let him be alright, I thought over and over again, holding onto this mantra as if it would actually save him. At this point, it had to. It fucking had to.

I forced the door open, let the blinding yellow light fill the room and breathed a sigh of relief to find the bathroom empty. That was one room down. But too many left to go. I didn't give myself any time to pause. I didn't have the time.

Was there a chance I was worrying about nothing? Yep, definitely. But I've worried about things like this at least twice before, and look what happened.

But as I glanced around the bathroom, a realization struck me and held firm.

The voices.

They weren't voices at all. It was music. Soft and simple, a sweet lullaby drifting in from the other room. My fingers trembling, I stepped backwards, out of the bathroom, and closed the door behind me.

I still couldn't quite breathe. It's funny, actually, how hard it could still be sometimes. Shouldn't breathing be the most natural thing in the world? Then why the hell is it so fucking hard?

Relax, would you? I inwardly scolded myself. Panicking was doing no good.

Slowly, quietly, I stepped into the living room. Prepared for the worst. Prepared to have my entire world fractured. Prepared to see the only person who mattered to me anymore dead at my feet. I'd be forced to live with the knowledge that it was all my fault.

That in the end, I failed him.

So, the relief that exploded through my body was so palpable I could practically taste its subtle sweetness on my tongue. Every muscle in my body relaxed the second I saw my Thomas, laying on the couch as I slowly approached, careful not to make any noise and disturb the sleeping boy. His phone was sitting on the table next to him, quietly playing a song composed of what sounded like violin and piano softly singing to one another, a love song of their own. I picked up the book laying discarded on the floor and set it down next to his phone. But the most important thing was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

God, I adored that passive expression spread across his face, like a being straight out of a fairytale. He looked so...peaceful...when he was asleep, when he was subject to a world of his own. It killed me, knowing that I was not a part of that world. That in the end, I couldn't bring him the happiness that he ultimately deserved.

But it doesn't do good to dwell on such thoughts, does it?

A warm smile overtook my face and I turned off his phone, letting darkness and silence engulf the room. I leaned against the couch to catch my breath, relishing in the fact that Thomas was okay.

Thomas was okay.

I bent down and placed a soft kiss to his forehead.

He shifted slightly, but stayed asleep, lost to whatever dreams had overtaken him. I sat down next to him, running my fingers through his semi-knotted hair, and smiling as he shifted once more.

"Alexander?" he half-whispered, half-whined, his voice hoarse with the persistent remnants of sleep. "Wha's goin' on?"

"Sorry, love. I didn't mean to wake you up," I said, continuing to let my fingers glide through his hair. Something soft pooled in my stomach, soft but still capable of cracking the ice that had infiltrated in the wake of the dream. The scent of his perfume washed over me, and it was like finally breaking the surface of the water and gasping in large breaths. I could relax. I could hold him close.

Thomas looked up at me, blinking the sleep away from his eyes. He covered his yawn with the palm of his hand.

"Is everything alright?"

"Just a bad dream," I answered truthfully.

The look in his eyes softened as he shifted, laying his head in my lap, and I was grateful for the simple fact that he didn't press. He didn't need to know every last detail of the horrors that I had seen, the utter terror that I had felt in order to chase them away. Nor did he want to. His fingers slid into mine and squeezed lightly, a promise and a reassurance all on its own. And in that moment, the nightmare seemed to dissolve into air, nothing more than dust. And with him looking at me, the warmth in his brown eyes, I almost forgot what it had been been about. I almost forgot about the voices and that terrible, blue light.

"I know how ya feel," Thomas whispered. "That's why I came in 'ere to read."

"But you fell asleep?" I teased.

Thomas gave me a perfect deadpan look, one he would never have even attempted had I been anyone else or had he been fully aware. It made my insides warm, just to know he was still capable of that, even if it was only on the brink of sleep. "Come lay with me," he instructed, yawning once more.

"I have a better idea, actually."

"Oh, yeah?"

"I know you said you didn't want me to and I fully respect your boundaries and everything, but...but can I please pick you up?"

"I'd love it if you picked me up," he said, sleep still addling his voice.

"Oh! But you said—"

"Well I have to say that, duh," he mumbled, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. "But of course I want you to. It'd be, like, the best thing in the world."

I watched him for a few minutes, unsure. My heart skipped a beat or two in its unsteady dance, then I sighed, and slid my fingers back from his hair. Thomas looked at me for a moment more, then closed his eyes as if retreating back to those perfect dreams where nothing dared hurt him. I smiled as I gazed down at him, then made the decision right then and there.

I moved the throw blanket he had snuggled under, scooped him up into my arms, and lifted him into the air.

Okay this was perfect. Life: complete. I can die a happy man, now.

And it was a much better sight to see Thomas sleeping peacefully in my arms than whatever nightmare had terrorized me only a few minutes prior. I held back a sigh, keeping my grip on him as steady as I could as I carried him through our apartment.

This was not as hard as it was supposed to be, considering the fact he had like a good seven inches on me. That made me worry. Shouldn't I be having a harder time carrying him?

Either I'm extremely strong for my size or Thomas isn't eating as much as he is supposed to be.

Let's pray it's the former, even though it's most likely the latter.

"Wait," he grumbled. "You're actually doin' it? I thought you were kiddin'."

"Do you want me to—"

"No," he sighed, breathily as he slid closer to my body, staring up at me with his gorgeous, wide eyes filled to the brim with pure trust. "This is nice, actually. You should do this more often."

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying this."

He yawned again. "Immensely. You don't have to do this, ya know."

"I know."

"So why don't you put me down?"

I wasn't about to tell Thomas that it was because I dreamt that I had lost him. I wasn't about to tell him that I had woken up thinking that he could be dead. I wasn't about to tell him that I was afraid that if I let go of him, he would disappear. So I responded with a simple, "Because I don't want to. So you might as well enjoy this." Thomas rolled his eyes but snuggled into my body, regardless.

The second we reached our room and I set him down on the bed, Thomas wrapped his arms around me and pulled me down next to him. He closed his eyes and began to hum softly, a tune I only vaguely knew, perhaps just another thing from a dream. He sighed in content the second I slid my arms around his waist, pulling him just a tiny bit closer.

"Thomas, have you been eating lately?"

He cracked one eye open and guilty responded with, "Yes and no."

"Thomas, it's a yes or no question. Not a yes and no."

He opened both of his eyes now and avoided my searching gaze. "Well, I mean, I've been eating when you're there." He got a little quiet as he said the last part.

"And when I'm not sitting at the table with you?"

Thomas remained silent.

I sighed. "We'll talk about this in the morning. Can I see your wrists?"

Something flashed in his eyes, and his muscles tensed up. "W-why?" His tone sounded forced, as if he was doing everything he could to not freak out.

"I'm not going to hurt you, Thomas!" I exclaimed, suddenly realizing why he had panicked. "I... I just want to see. It's entirely up to you though. I... I just want to make sure you aren't cutting anymore, that's all. I promise, love."

I couldn't handle the thought of him hurting anymore than he already did. It didn't seem fair, the way the world and everything in it treated him; yet somehow, it was still rivaled by the way he treated himself. There was only so much a person could take, so how long before he had suffered through more than he was capable of handling? How much more until what had been a nightmare became startling reality?

God no. I knew, with every small fraction of my being, that I could not go through something like that. To have the entire world right here, right next to me, and lose it within a matter of seconds.

But, regardless, Thomas thought for a minute before closing his eyes and shoving his arm into my hand. Carefully, I rolled back the sleeves to expose his tender flesh riddled with delicate scar tissue to the world. I traced the path they carved with my thumb as lightly as possible, my heart plummeting to know that they existed at all. But, I still allowed myself a small smile, for what was already there was beginning to fade, and there were no signs of new ones at all.

"Other one?"

His other hand was pretty much the same.

I smiled proudly at him, though his eyes were still closed. Letting his hand drop to his side, he curled up into my body, setting his head against my chest. He could probably hear my heartbeat, and just how frantic and erratic it became for him. I turned to him, letting my lips graze his forehead softly, pouring every last ounce of adoration I could in that single fraction of a moment.

If only I could ever express just how much he meant to me.

"Thomas?" I murmured after a moment.

"Hmm?"

"Do you think I'm too... possessive?"

It was a question that had been burning in the back of my mind for quite some time, fueled only by Lafayette and Aaron and their quiet looks of disproval every time Thomas so much as frowned at me. One thing was for sure, they were not so keen to repeat their past mistakes.

He thought for a few seconds. "Not possessive. Possessive isn't the right word. More like overprotective at times, but I know you only want to protect me, and I honestly think it's really sweet that I matter that much to you. I know you just want to make sure I don't get hurt, and I honestly am incredibly lucky to have you."

"Y-yeah?"

"Mhmm," he said, slightly muffled as he adjusted, burying his face in my shirt. "Now kiss me."

"Is that an order or a request?"

Thomas turned and blinked up at me, clearly unamused.

I reached forwards and placed a soft and quick kiss to his lips. He melted like an ice cube on a warm day, and it made me wonder if he truly saw me as the sun. If I truly lit up his world the way he did mine. I let go of him and began to rub calming circles into his back, to comfort both him and me. It was nice to know he relished in my touch, that I wasn't something he ever had to fear.

Soon, he fell asleep again, but for me, the sweet embrace of unconsciousness didn't come that easily.

All I could do was lay there and picture the disturbing image of Thomas laying on the floor, his blood nothing more than a stain on the otherwise pristine tiles, and how helpless I was.

And, of course, that haunting blue light overreaching into a realm it had no right to claim.

I sighed, sliding my other arm up to run my fingers through his hair as I held him closer. He rested against me as if this was where he belonged, where he was always meant to be. He rested against me like the world wasn't watching, like we had nothing but each other. I wish that could have been the case, but I still had to ask myself one question: would I ever be able to sleep without him in bed next to me?

Despite having him curled up besides me, sleeping peacefully, I settled on staying up the rest of the night, afraid that if I slipped off, I would see my Thomas dead once more.

James

The game has been chosen. The pieces have been set up. The players are ready.

All that's left is for me to move the first pawn.

And then all of this will finally be over, and I will once more have what is rightfully mine.

I cannot lose him.

~•~

Okay, so raise your hand if you actually thought Thomas died. Now lower your hand if you're a toddler.

I'm just going to go ahead and give everyone a cookie for calling that it was just a dream.

2-3 chapters left before it all goes downhill.

Happy late Thanksgiving.

I'm thankful that all the dinosaurs are gone so we don't have to live in fear of being eaten by a giant skinny necked pecky thing.

(Edit: ok so I know its well past thanksgiving but when I originally posted this, it wasnt, and im leaving it in to expose to the world what a stupid child I was 3 years ago)