//TW: physical, verbal, and sexual abuse, self-harm, suicidal thoughts, self-hatred, graphic violent imagery, swearing\\

Thomas

James Madison is like a wildfire.

Unpredictable.

Destroys everything in its path and leaves nothing behind.

Dangerous.

Deadly.

And no matter how hard you try, you can't get rid of it. No matter how hard you try, how fast you run, how cunning you think, you can't get away. You can't escape.

It will follow you until the ends of the earth. Until you are the very last thing it hasn't eaten, hasn't destroyed. And once you are gone, and once the world is purged of both sin and purity, both hatred and love, only then can the fire finally burn itself out.

It leaves nothing but ashes in its wake.

And yet, you keep feeding it. You don't want to, but you do. You have no choice.

For deep down, there is an inkling of fear lurking in your stomach, of what could happen should the fire disappear, bringing its intolerable heat and devastating light with it. Then you must ask yourself, is the ice and the darkness so much better than the fire? Are the trivial amounts of the blazing fire's comfort something I can survive without, especially compared to the nothingness that stands as my alternative? Can one exist while the other dominates? Is the sacrifice truly worth the consequence?

Or am I doomed to live in fear, to live in endless suffering and pain and heartache? Perhaps it was always my destiny, perhaps I was a creature bred and fated to be burned by the unrelenting wildfire.

Oh, how the fire burns. There is a beauty to it, in a weird, twisted way. There is something so orderly about the chaos, so sweet about the vile nature of it. And as much as I cower from its heat and its light and its destruction, I cannot tear my eyes away from the graceful dance of the red and orange flames.

It eats up your insecurities and turns it against you. It uses your fears as kindling. It feeds itself off of your pure desire to just give up and end everything. How bad could it be, though? How bad could it possibly be to escape this nightmare once and for all?

Maybe I should let it consume me. Maybe I should just give in. Maybe the singular hope of freedom I can have can only be obtained by letting go of the world I had grown so fond of, the world and all its simplistic, hidden beauties. The darkness will be uncomfortable, sure, but not unfamiliar.

And it burns down your hopes. Your dreams. The idea that you can be loved. The possibility that one day, you'll wake up with someone you truly care about, who truly cares about you, the memory of this abuse nothing more than a nightmare fading into the mist.

It burns everything.

And not all of us can leave the fire behind.

Not all of us can flee and find shelter and safety.

Not all of us can escape, not all of us can run, not all of us can get away from it.

Sometimes, we can do nothing but sit and watch the world around us slowly get eaten up by the fire, disappearing and becoming nothing but ash and burnt remains.

The thing about fire is that once the damage is done, it can never be undone. Once the forests have been burned, it'll take years for them to grow back. And even then, it'll never be like it was before the fire consumed the forest, it will never be what it once was. It'll never be perfect again.

I'll never be perfect again.

James Madison is like a wildfire.

He won't be satisfied until he has watched me finally break forever. He won't be satisfied until I finally am beyond being fixed. He won't be satisfied until I am dead. Until I have killed myself.

I'd like to say that I promised myself that he would never get that satisfaction, but as the days go on and on, I become less and less sure. I become less and less confident.

I become less and less whole.

I bend to the fire, allowing it to spread across my body, allowing it to burn away everything that made me human. I cave to its heat, to its scorching desires, and say a mournful farewell to the world around me as it goes up in flames, as dark gray smoke chokes out the sky like storm clouds, forever obscuring the gentle, glimmering light of the stars.

James Madison is a wildfire.

And I am the fool who lit the match.

"You are absolutely useless," he growled into my ear. "You're lucky that you have me. Nobody else would ever like you. Nobody else would ever want you. You deserve to die, you worthless whore. You should be overjoyed to have me, because I'm the only one who will ever love you. Never forget that."

I let my eyes fall shut, imprisoning the tears that just wanted to escape.

Some liquid warmth trickled down my face, thick as honey and red as a freshly cut rose. It clung to my skin, a sharp yet delicate reminder of the inherent cruelty of the world and all of the creatures residing within it. I tried to wipe away the blood, but even with all of it that stained my sleeves as a mark of the pointless endeavor, more kept cascading from the gash in my forehead. I could taste it in my mouth, its metallic tang, its dreadful bitterness.

"Well?" he exploded, the fierceness sending a shockwave of pure electricity down my spine. I flinched away based solely on instinct, wishing so desperately I could disappear, sink into the ground, become nothing. "Do you have anything to say for yourself, or are you just going to stand there in silence like the worthless whore you are?"

"J-James," I begged, my pathetic attempts to protect myself only worsening the wrath and the intensity of the flames. They burned around me, devouring the entire world until it was just me and him surrounded by a halo of fire. The blow came before I was even anticipating it, sending scalding hot pain rocketing through my face. "James, please."

"I give you everything, and this is how you treat me? God, I should have fucking shot you when I had the chance."

This time, I tried to hide my face behind my hands, but it didn't do anything. He hit me again, and again, and again. My world burst into fireworks of a thousand different shades of red, so far removed from the colors I had once loved. Now, they were nothing but another symbol of pain, and I much rather wished for everything to go back to the dull, boring gray they were this morning, back before he had gone through my phone just as he promised he would.

Before he had discovered the extent of my treachery, my lies.

In one swift movement, he forced me against the wall, pinning my wrists to either side of my head. James slammed his mouth against mine, biting my lips and forcing my mouth to open. He slipped his tongue in demandingly, and I let him explore the insides of my mouth.

What else could I do? What else could I possibly do? The only way for this to end is to give him what he wants.

And maybe then he may let me live to see another sunset, to bask in the moonlight for one more night.

His hands traveled down to the rim of my shirt and began to pull up slightly. I trembled underneath him, knowing, and dreading, what was to come.

But I let him, staying as silent as I possibly could, just so we could get this over with sooner.

"You're lucky I don't fucking kill you now," he growled into my ear, his breath so unfairly hot. James gripped me tighter, no doubt delighting in the gasp of pain that wrenched itself from my mouth, no longer allowing me to be silent as I wished I could stay. "I should. I should fuck you and shoot you and leave you in the alley outside with the rest of the trash. Maybe that bastard will find you then, and he'll know just how much of a whore you really are."

"I didn't—" I tried to plead, pushing myself back against the wall if it meant getting away from him and that overwhelming scent of smoke, but there was nowhere left to go. I was trapped within his cage of iron, just like the bird he promised I was, the one he would do anything to keep safe from the outer world threatening to tear it apart slowly, delighting in its screams as it plucked off feather after feather.

He promised to keep me safe but I don't feel very safe.

"You didn't what? Think I was going to find out?" One hand paused at my shirt, the other sliding up to my throat. "Realize you weren't going to get away with it?"

"James—" I whimpered, but he started to squeeze.

"Sluts like you deserve to die." His fingers gripped tighter and tighter, my lungs screaming for air they would never get. I stared at the wall past him, refusing to let my last sight be the malicious monster the boy I had once loved had become, but it didn't matter anyway. Soon, my vision clouded over, dotted by blotches of black that promised the sweet release death had to offer.

My throat burned, every part of me writhing in agony at the pain of his touch. He forced me against the wall, his nails digging into my skin, blocking off my only means of survival.

Oh, god.

The strangest thing of it all was that small flash of relief burdening my chest as I realized the truth.

Maybe my soul can finally fly again. And I'll be able to put this miserable life behind once and for all.

But just as I lingered over the cusp of losing consciousness, he let go. Because he would never grant me that kind of freedom from him.

My knees gave way underneath me, and if it weren't for the way he kept me in place, I would have collapsed to the floor. The entire world seemed to sway around me, moving in a dance I was the only one who didn't know the rhythm to. I gasped for breath, but he didn't give me very long before he shoved his lips against mine, taking what he wanted. His hands slid up the bare skin of my chest. His touch burned as it always did, my skin blistering everywhere the pressure of his fingers lingered.

"If you're going to be such a fucking slut, I may as well use you like one, huh?" he whispered, our mouths only inches apart. "I've had enough of your constant shit, Thomas. It's time somebody puts you in your fucking place."

A sob forced its way out of my throat. "James, please, I'm sorry I—"

"You're only sorry you got caught," he growled. "You're only sorry you're being punished for doing the one fucking thing I begged you not to do."

He was right. Why deny it? He was right.

James pressed his knee in between my legs, biting into my neck where the feeling of his grip still haunted me, still burned. How many bruises had he left to taint my skin as they pleased, marking me with his touch, proving to the whole world he could do whatever he wanted to me and get away with it? Did it even matter anymore? "You'll never fucking learn, will you?"

I bit down on my tongue to keep myself from crying in pain as he raked his poison-barbed claws across my chest. James slid one hand up and gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. "There's really nothing stopping me from killing you, you know that, right? You think I give a shit about you?"

So many words bubbled up to the surface, but they melted in the heat of the fire, and it wasn't worth it. So I closed my eyes and shook my head in silent agreement, and James shoved his mouth against mine.

But something inside me snapped. I don't know why, or what triggered it, but something inside me broke free from the cage I had tried to keep it imprisoned in.

I gave into the fire. I let it burn down my defenses, I let the tether keeping everything inside of me break for the shortest of moments, just enough time for the worst of mistakes. The flames roared around me, but now, they were outshined by the millions of stars that sprung to life deep within my soul, even if they only burned for a glorious few seconds.

I bit down as hard as I could on James's lips until I could taste blood and let go.

He let go of my hands and staggered backwards, his fingers pressed against his mouth. Then, he stared down at them, the tips stained red.

My heart beat in my chest louder than any drum banging out the song of war. I pressed myself back against the wall, but there was nowhere left to go, and nothing left in this world but the way James stared at the blood touching his fingers.

I had done that.

I had been the one to make him bleed, for once.  It filled me with the most violent elation marked by boundless amounts of pride, until that all came crashing down as the heavy realization of what I had just done sunk in.

I watched James for a moment, frozen and horrorstruck. He seemed shocked, as if he couldn't comprehend what just happened. And come to think of it, neither could I.

What had I just done?

James didn't say anything, his mouth hanging open as he stared down at his fingertips, as if the red was the only thing in the world.

I swallowed, gathered my wits, and bolted for my room before either of us could say another word. The minute I entered, I slammed my door shut and locked it quickly. My feet slid from under me without me asking them to, and I crumpled to the ground and tucked my head into my hands.

I tried so hard not to cry. I tried so hard to keep everything together. But my attempts were in vain.

My breath caught in my throat; my eyes blurred. I could feel the choking sensation of trying to keep it all back and failing miserably. My whole body trembled as the tears trailed down my face.

I am going to die I am going to die I am going to die.

He is going to kill me.

I could already picture it, imagine the endless amounts of pain.

He would kill me and enjoy every second of it too, loving the way the fire corrupted even the purest of souls, condemning me to an eternity filled with endless suffering.

I could hear James banging on the door, calling my name and demanding me to come out. I ignored him, hoping that he would just go away. And soon enough, he did.

But I didn't dare move from where I sat, pressed against the wall. I didn't dare make any noise, in fear that he would find a way in just as he always did.

A few minutes passed, the only noise being the quiet sobs that racked my body. But soon enough, I had been exhausted of tears. Soon enough, they had all dried against my face.

Soon enough, I was an empty, soulless husk drifting aloft in the blackest sky.

I risked a glance out my window, at the sun drifting down the horizon, bathing the sky in golden hues that were so unfairly captivating. What a beautiful sunset, but knowing it would be my last completely soured the breathtaking simplicity of it.

Enough.

If today is your last, make it one worth living.

I raised my head and took many deep breaths in a desperate attempt to calm myself down.

What should I do? I had two choices, one of them wasn't healthy for me, but the other one would probably end up inconveniencing someone else. After a second of thought, I made my decision.

He was the only thing left I had to turn to. The cool embrace, the sweet refuge. He was all I had and he was all I would ever have.

I slowly, shakily stood up and walked over to my desk. I unplugged the phone from its charger and scrolled through my contacts until I found the person I was looking for.

Oh, how I craved to hear his voice, the way he excited over each and every word, treating them like masterpieces of his own creation. How I hungered for it like a simple beast. I just needed the chance to hear that beautiful voice of his one last time, to know that even after I disappear, there will still be light in this world.

If I could hear him, if his voice could fill my heart with the sweetest hopes, if I could let its beauty engulf me as completely as a tide washing away a loose pebble, perhaps I can forget.

Turning the phone on speaker, I set it back down on the desk and waited for him to answer.

Please pick up. Please, please, please.

I needed him. I needed him more than I've ever needed anything else ever, and to not have that last remaining hope of comfort would be to fall straight back into those burning flames.

I waited with baited breath, clutching onto my arms so hard my fingernails broke past the skin and drew blood. My heart pounded against my ribcage, threatening to break out of its prison of bone. Perhaps I should let it, for it would be a much better fate than whatever waits me outside.

If he didn't answer, what else was there for me in the world? What was keeping me from killing myself and ridding the world of just another useless mistake, an unloveable monster.

"Thomas?" Alexander's voice drifted through the room, filling me with a relief so instantaneous it was not unlike its own, sad sense of euphoria. "Is everything okay? What's going on?"

"Talk," I demanded, not caring what I sounded like. Tired, upset, crazy, I didn't care. I just needed him to talk.

"Talk? About what?"

"I don't know and I don't care. Find something. You always have something to talk about, don't you?"

"I—I suppose?"

"I'm sorry. That came out wrong. I—please?" I hated to beg. I hated to disturb the peace he had found without me. But I pried anyway, because I am selfish by nature. "I just really need to hear your voice right now is all." Did I sound like I was crying? Or did I always sound like I was crying?

"Thomas... is everything okay?"

I wanted to lie. I wanted to tell him everything was fine, that everything would always be fine. But he would know. He always had a way of reading people and he would know. "No. But I don't want to talk about it and I doubt you want to hear about it, so just talk about whatever you want."

"Thomas—"

"Please?" I whispered.

"I...I'd love to."

"Thank you."

Alexander sighed, took a deep breath, and went on a good forty minute rant about some book he had just finished that he didn't really like. I don't know. In all honesty, I wasn't paying much attention. It just soothed me just to listen to him speak. Just to listen to him talk. Just having someone that I know would always be there when I needed him was enough for me.

I listened to his gentle voice pour over the words, giving life and brand new meaning to everything he spoke. I settled down against the bed, taking refuge underneath the cover and let the phone screen illuminate the room by itself, thoroughly invested in all he had to say.

I clung to everything he said, not knowing if it would be the last time I heard him murmur so softly, like the world was created for us and us alone.

It may be the last time I hear him, ever.

But momentarily, it was enough. Letting the music of my Alexander wash me away, take me to places I never before thought possible.

I loved him.

Whether he knew it or not, whether I'd ever get the chance to say so or not, whether this would be the last time I'd ever hear his wonderful voice again, I loved him.

And I think I always will.

So no matter what, as long as I love him, there will always be something in this world worth living for.

If James Madison was a wildfire, then Alexander Hamilton was the gentle rain that put it out.