//TW: mentions of past self-harm, swearing\\

Alexander

"You didn't sleep on the couch all night, did you?" asked that soft voice that sounded as though it belonged in a dream, and for a few confusing moments, I assumed they had. But the hazy remains of sleep dissolved the second they touched the air, followed by whatever sweet nothing I had dreamt about. It fled into the blinding mist, and reality came crashing back in its place. But reality wasn't so bad, especially not with Thomas sitting next to me, our fingers almost touching. It took me a second or two to process that he had been the one to ask the question, that it hadn't been a mere product of my imagination.

Somehow, that made me smile, knowing that he was real.

"No," I said groggily, running a hand through my hair. I forced myself to sit up, only managing to do so when Thomas offered me his hand. "No, I didn't. I swear." It was a lie, of course. But my room had seemed to far away from his. And if he had woken up in the middle of the night, needing something? How could I deny him that? It was far safer to stay closer to him, so that he could find me should something go wrong.

I felt safer at least.

He smiled a smile that was almost as effective as caffeine in terms of waking me up and folded his legs underneath him as he inched a little closer to me.

"How're you feeling?" I asked, though a part of me dreaded the answer. Regardless, I needed to know. "Better?"

He nodded, his eyes dropping to the couch. "A lot better. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have..." He trailed off as I took his hands in mine, cocking my head at him. "Well," he said, swallowing as I drew my thumb across the bandages, still touched by the faintest hints of blood. "I promise I won't do it again."

"Good. Do you mind if I ask what set it off?"

Thomas shifted away from me, his hands falling. It was remarkable how warm his skin was, and how suddenly cold and empty I felt without his touch. I forced the pang of the emotions I couldn't understand down and crossed my arms, almost like I was defending myself from their barbed attacks.

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to," I reassured as soon as I caught the hesitance flashing across his face.

"I don't know. I think I was just..." He sighed, and only then did I truly see all the unbridgeable chasms there really were between us. All the things I would never be able to understand and the privileges I had in that. Short of Thomas stripping his feelings bare for the world to see, exposing every vulnerability he had and leaving him at the mercy of other humans, who were notorious for destroying the few good things in this world, there was nothing either of us could currently do to narrow the gap besides, well, talking.

I'm good enough at talking. I think.

I listened, waiting. He looked up at me, and I offered him my best attempt at a smile, and his shoulders relaxed.

"I don't know. I really don't."

"That's okay. You don't have to," I said.

Thomas nodded, and he drew the rest of the way away from me. I longed to grab out and run my fingers across his hand, just to feel his warmth. Just to assure him that I was here, and he was here, and that was all we needed. To breathe and to simply be, without fear of what might happen the second we relax.

I would give him that. Even if it took years. Even if it took lifetimes. I would give Thomas the chance to relax and find what it truly meant to be himself once again, every last bit of him included. Even the parts I had once found unbearable. I would kill to have those back.

Especially the bit that had absolutely lit up the second he started talking about something that he loved.

Smiling at the memory so unfairly far away, chased off by that image of his bleeding arms, I looked up at him and found the courage to speak. "I guess I have to watch John Mulaney now, don't I?"

He half-laughed, a noise that didn't sound quite complete yet. "You don't have to."

"Oh, but I want to. And you're going to watch it with me, if it means I get to see you laugh!"

Thomas beamed. It was such a wonderful sight that it truly made me wonder how somebody could be sick enough to want that smile to disappear. How somebody could truly hate the purest expression of joy, the thing that made somebody the best part of themself. It made me absolutely fucking despise James just that little bit more, knowing he had tried to destroy something as precious as a smile. The only thing that eased my anger was the knowledge that he had failed.

"Hey, where are you going?" I frowned, only just noticing the sweater and the gloves. Sure, it was rare to see him without the sweater he managed to bury away in, hiding himself from the cruel, unjust world, but the gloves were new.

"Just out for a walk," he said with a swift shake of his head, as if dismissing it. "It's stupid. But the fresh air clears my head."

"Oh! Can I come?"

He blinked a few times, letting the question settle in. His eyes widened when he finally understood, and that smile touched his mouth once more. "I mean, you can if you want to. But I would never ask you to—"

"No!" I said, then instantly regretted it. I was trying harder not to interrupt him. Not a single word he said could be wasted, as it was rare to hear him speak somedays. A luxury that I could never get enough of, and by interrupting him, I was taking some of those precious words away. "Sorry. No, I'd love to go with you. Just let me get ready, okay?"

He nodded, and I dashed off to my room to get changed into something that didn't reek of alcohol and closed, cramped bars with hardly enough space between you and another, random person. I must have forgotten to change last night, though the concern was at the far end of my list. Thomas was waiting just outside for me, exactly where I left him, when I came back. I stopped only for a second to catch a quick glimpse of the canvas leaning against a makeshift easel, a painting of an unearthly place that could only be something from a dream. Even the colors it used were otherworldly.

"You're not going to tell the others, are you?" he asked after a moment as we left our home and started down the hallway. He spoke in a whisper, as though his question was dirty, shameful. "About last night?"

"Well," I said. "I was hoping you would tell them, but I won't unless you want me to."

Thomas shook his head firmly. "They'd just worry about me. Lafayette... you know, he just gets really... I don't know."

"God, he's really persistent about that kinda stuff, isn't he?" I screwed up my voice in a horrendous French accent, if only to see Thomas smile again. "'Alexander! Tu dois manger!' As if I don't." I rolled my eyes. "He's like a fucking mother hen or whatever."

"He means well," Thomas said quietly, quick to jump to his defense though I couldn't understand why. I loved Lafayette more than anything, but I couldn't really look at him the same after all the things he said to Thomas in that short span of a few, endless seconds.

I nodded anyway, softening. "He does."

It wasn't long before we were graced by the chilly morning air, cold enough to where you could see your own breath curl to life, only to disappear in the wind moments later. Blue sky poked out between curtains of gray clouds, the kind of sky that promised snow.

"Think it'll snow soon? I love snow. Ooh! Snow on Christmas is the best!"

"Oh yeah," he said quietly, like the thought hadn't fully processed for him before. "I guess that's, what, in three days?"

"Two," I corrected. "Oh, and don't worry about the whole gift stuff. We don't really do that, cause, you know. We can't afford dirt."

"Well, that's very true."

"But if you did want something...?"

"No, I could never ask you for even more. The things you've already done for me are..." He paused, swallowing. "It's already more than I can ever repay you."

"You don't owe me anything," I reminded him, the words echoing through my mind over and over until they became a part of me. I didn't care how many times I had to tell him, but I wouldn't stop until he fully understood everything I was willing to do for him.

We continued walking, accompanied only by the brisk morning breeze and each other's company. There was something so different about him compared to the rest of my friends. Where they were loud, he was quiet. Where they were sharp edges and laughing and wild animals, he was soft and listening and a blooming flower. Neither was better than the other, but they were completely separate, for now at least. And it was nice to just have him alone for the morning, with no concern but the two of us and where we would end up.

Eventually, we found ourselves roaming through the park I had brought him to last Friday, and if anything, it seemed more like a haven, an oasis, than anything else. We rambled on about the most inconsequential things simply because we were allowed to, and I let Thomas talk more and more about the things he found enjoyable. He opened up, just a little. But it was enough, because his barricades retreated and I got to see that smile of his, and nothing else in the world really mattered to me as much as being then and there with him.

I was so very lucky, but I wouldn't realize that until much later.

"So do you mind if I ask a kinda, well, personal question? You don't have to answer if you find it too invasive," I asked after our conversation about all the flowers that bloomed in winter died down. Apparently, there were more than I thought. How resilient a flower had to be to be able to not only survive but flourish when most things die. They're not always as delicate as they seem, are they?

I glanced up at the boy next to me and frowned.

Thomas crossed his arms, as if already prepared to defend himself. "Uh, sure. But if it's about James..."

"No! Uh, it's actually about something else. Well, kinda." Despite the cold air seeping in through the layers of my jacket and pricking into my skin with those sharp needles, heat blossomed in my face.

"Well, go ahead then," he said, casting me a small smile.

"So, umm, are you...gay?"

God, I hated the way I said the word. As if it was a secret. Something to be quiet about. But old habits die hard I guess, and it's not exactly like I come from the most accepting of places.

He didn't respond right away, as if needing an additional moment for the question to process. "Oh." He laughed a little, a half-chuckle. "No. I'm not...well, obviously I like boys. But I like girls and enbies too."

"Enbies?" I asked, feeling dumb just for asking the question.

"Nonbinary people," he said with a shrug.

"Oh! So you're bi, then?"

"Well, yeah? I guess that's the right term, but I've never really liked labels. Don't get me wrong! I think it's great that people are able to find a word that they feel so comfortable and happy with! But, to me, labels just don't fit. And I don't really have a great connection with  queer, either."

"Small town?"

"Exactly."

A second passed before I dared to speak. The admission came flooding to my mouth but it was bitter and unwelcoming, like something I just needed to spit out before the taste got stuck in my mouth forever. It didn't feel dirty or wrong, just different. A secret I had never told anybody before, not even the people I considered myself closest to, even though I knew they would understand.

But with Thomas, there was just an openness I couldn't describe. He had allowed me to see him when he was the most vulnerable and there was just so much connection in that. A string holding both of us together, whether we realized it or not. So when I spoke, I did so comfortably, if not spontaneously, the words far less like poison than I had expected them to be.

"I think I'm bi, actually."

"Oh." He was quiet for a second, then smiled at me. "Yeah. That makes sense. You fit the stereotype."

"St-stereotype?"

He nodded towards me. "Fingerguns. You cuff your jeans, tuck in your shirt."

I blinked, letting the words soak in for a moment. "Okay, look. It's a fashion statement, so leave me alone!"

Thomas laughed. Like a real laugh, hidden and quieted a little, but it was a real laugh that made my heart soar. I hung onto the moment for longer than was necessary, wishing I could keep it forever and listen to that laugh over and over. There was something so whimsical about it, something that felt like it wad meant for me and only me.

"Being bi is hard though because I fall in love with like every girl ever, but I have such, like, rigid standards when it comes to boys. Enbies—that's what it was?—are really pretty too, though."

"Rigid standards?" Thomas repeated, a hint of amusement touching his tone and it made me so unspeakably happy just to have this moment with him and be the reason he could smile and laugh.

"Yeah! I don't know. I couldn't even explain it if I tried. I think short? I like to...well, I like to show affection through physical ways and that's kinda harder to do with taller people, especially with guys. So yeah, short. Not shorter than me, because that's impossible."

"There are guys who are shorter than you."

"Name one pers—wait! No, never mind! And if that's who you think of, then you're wrong. I would never even consider it."

"Who are you—oh." He shook his head. "Don't worry. I would never think that you would ever stoop so low." He said this with a roll of his eyes and an exaggerated voice, but the small little jab at the monster we didn't dare name made me chuckle, just a bit.

"Good."

Thomas stopped walking, his gloved hand brushing against the delicate petals of a yellow flower on a vine spilling down over its wooden planter. He played with the plant so delicately, as if one harsh touch would completely shatter it. He treated it with respect and admiration, the most wonderstruck of smiles crossing his face as he appreciated the tiny, insignificant flower and everything it stood for. "Winter jasmine," he said after a moment, when he caught me staring at him. "They usually don't bloom until January though."

"I feel like only witches know this much about plants, Thomas."

"Oh darn. You've figured me out."

I laughed, my fingers finding the length of his hand for a split second. A fleeting touch I had no right to partake in and yet found myself enjoying just the same. But the laughter died away a few moments later, and we resumed walking along the path, the gravel crunching underneath our feet. "Hey, umm, could you do me a favor?"

"Of course."

"Umm, nobody else really knows that I'm not, well, straight. Could you...like, keep it a secret? I'm going to tell them, I promise! I'm just not ready yet."

"I would never tell them, Alexander. I promise," he said with a reassuring smile that made all my troubles melt away like fresh snow under the warm, steady sun. Maybe that's what his smile was most like to me. The sun breathing against my face, its light revealing a secret only I got to enjoy.

"Thank you," I said, able to breathe a little easier. It was tremendous, really, the weight he lifted off of my shoulders simply by listening. Nobody really listened to me the way Thomas did, like he was enraptured by the sweetest of songs. He was nice to talk to, which is not something I'd ever thought I'd say, you know, before.

"Of course, you can tell them all that I'm a witch if you want. They'll never believe you anyway."

We must have stayed out there, accompanied by only each other and the soft blues of the morning sky for at least an hour, but it felt like both an eternity and a fraction of a second at the same time. And I never wanted to let go.

~•~

Angie: Is Thomas okay?

Peggy: wait wdym

Alex: you can ask him yourself if you want, you know

Thomas: hi im fine lol

Aaron: omg I forgot that I had your contact information as Rad Noodle still

Thomas: oh yeah!!! i forgot about that!!! fun times lol

John: no srsly Thomas are you alright??

John: you kinds took off last night

John: *kinda lol

Maria: you of course should only tell us if you feel comfortable tho right

Peggy: I miss one forking night and you guys do the craziest shit I swear

Herc: Oh so shit's okay but you draw the line at fucking?

Thomas: like i said im fine

Thomas: but thanks for worrying about me i rlly appreciate it

Thomas: i know this may sound stupid but you guys are actually lowkey the nicest and most wonderful people in the world and i rlly do appreciate everything you've done for me over the past few days

I smiled, rereading the last text he sent over and over again as though it could tell me all the things about him I had yet to uncover. There was so much about him left that I still didn't know. So many secrets that just left my fingers feeling numb.

I forced my hands flat against the couch, scrolling through the groupchat just to see everything Thomas had written.

Eliza: hey buddy. Stop being so nice.

Eliza: that's my thing

Maria: ooh battle of the nice people

Thomas: its okay its part of my world-domination plan ;)

I laughed, simply at the thought that Thomas would ever do something to hurt anybody, ever.

Thomas's door opened a few moments later, and I instantly perked up, reaching for the remote at my side. He stepped into the room, hands shoved into his pockets, staring down at the floor.

"Hey!" I said brightly. "Wanna watch something with me?"

"I'd love to, Alexander, but I have to go take care of a few things."

"Oh, mind if I come?"

"No! I mean, yes. I, uh, you can't come."

"I don't want you to go alone."

"I can take care of myself, Alexander."

I frowned, shoulders sagging as he fixed his grip on his bag. He ducked his head and stumbled through an apology, shrinking in on himself as if that would make him disappear. Why did he want to disappear so badly? The world didn't have enough of the light that he created.

"Where are you going?"

"Just out to do some shopping. That's all. I promise."

"You're not going to see James, are you?" I hated that I had to ask. I hated that I had to encroach on his privacy, but I couldn't let him get hurt again. Not ever, and especially not now with the fresh bandages still wrapped around his arms to cover the cuts and quell their bleeding. He shouldn't have to keep fighting the same monsters day after day to the point of exhaustion. That's why I was here.

"No," he said softly, but that quiet tone was what laid him bare, exposing the truth for what it was. And he was not lying, not this time. "No, I would never." He shook his head firmly. "I'm done with James." Thomas swallowed hard, but when he looked back up at me and saw my gentle, unwavering smile, he relaxed.

"Okay," I said, forcing myself to stay seated despite the sudden, desperate urge to cross over to him and hold his hand simply so I could squeeze it and feel his warmth and every last ounce of peace that came with him. "Well, hurry. I wanna watch more of that Kitchen Nightmares."

Thomas shook his head, his smile a semi-embarrassed one. "You don't have to lie, Alexander."

"No, I do! I promise! I love watching people getting their lives and dreams absolutely destroyed."

His smile widened, like sunlight finally being given the chance to shine after an unrelenting storm ravaged the world. "Okay. I'll try to be quick."

"Do you need money or anything?"

Thomas faltered for the slightest moment. His smile dropped again, plunging the world back into darkness. After swallowing down the words that must have gotten stuck in his throat, he shook his head. "It's fine. I really couldn't ask for that from you."

"It's not a problem, you know."

"I'm not taking anything else away from you."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Thomas stood there for a moment or two more, watching me carefully. So many things hung in the air between us, too frightening to acknowledge. Slowly, the tension left his posture, and he cast me one more small smile before turning to the door, a smile that was not enough to last me until the next time I saw him. "I'll be back soon, okay?"

"Okay," I said. "Be careful."

He snorted. "I'll do my best not to die."

I waited, sitting there long after the door closed and the echoes of his parting fell from the air, crashing against the wooden floor like glass bottles housing memories that could never be recreated. His absence pricked me like the sharpest of thorns, but thorns always accompany the most beautiful roses.

A few seconds later, I forced my hand to reach for the phone laying discarded besides me, the notifications for the text messages forgotten the second Thomas stepped into the room. My fingers shaking for some reason I didn't understand, I scrolled through the list of contacts until I found who I was looking for.

Alex: Herc? Thomas is heading out.

Alex: Probably Christmas shopping.

Alex: I need you to follow him please.

Alex: Just make sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

Herc: Whyyyy meeeee?

Alex: BECAUSE I ASKED YOU TO, GODDAMMIT

Herc: there is nO NEED TO YELL AT ME MISTER, I LITERALLY JUST WOKE UP!

Herc: I'M GOING! I'M GOING!

Perhaps it was unnecessary. Perhaps it was even invasive. Perhaps it was throwing the delicate trust I had painstakingly formed and holding it to dangle out the window, my grip loosening on it more and more as the seconds passed. But I needed somebody watching Thomas. Not because I didn't trust him. Not because I was trying to keep him as mine or whatever.

I had seen him.

I had seen James following us. I had seen his eyes glued to Thomas in the most terribly frightening ways. Sure, he had been hardly more than a face in the crowd, but I know I saw him. I know he followed us through the park, no doubt waiting to get Thomas alone for unspeakable, horrifying reasons that made my stomach churn and threaten to spill the food I had practically forced myself to cram down.

My fingers clenched tightly around my phone at the thought.

He would never get that chance.

Not if I had anything to do about it.

I let out a breath and tilted my head backwards, staring up at the monochromatic ceiling. Colors didn't exactly have the same meaning now that Thomas was redefined them, especially when he was not in the same room as me. The painting he had been working on earlier at the kitchen table, before I woke up, was proof enough that he could do things with shades and hues that I didn't think possible.

I smiled at the thought and forced myself to relax. Hercules was going to watch Thomas. He was going to make sure that nothing bad happened. And if Thomas found out, fine. If he was angry at me for not trusting him, fine.

An angry Thomas is a thousand times better than a dead one.

My blood chilled as the whisper of that horrid thought streaked through my mind, as sharp and brief as lightning. You hear stories about these kinds of things but you never think they'll happen to you or somebody you care about. Violence for the sake of it. Abuse disguised as love. Murder trying to justify itself.

I shook my head, picked up my phone, and texted John, because there wasn't a thing in the world I couldn't fix by annoying the hell out of him.