//TW: swearing, manipulation and gaslighting, verbal and physical abuse, self-harm\\

Lord you guys are gonna hate me

Thomas

"H-how did you—"

"I just want to talk," he said, raising his hands as if to show he had no plans to hurt me. Well, physically, at least. That glint, that maniacal, predatory glint in his eyes tore straight through my body without any warning, without any hesitation, leaving raw, bloody wounds in its wake. He sized me up, hungry, lustful, and there was no escape. There was never an escape. I could have traveled the entire world and he would still find me because he always found me. Fate had woven our paths so tightly together. A cosmic joke with a punchline that consisted of bruises and blood and me always ending up hurt.

"There's—there's nothing to talk about," I managed to squeak out. Oh, how I longed to sound proud, brave, firm, like a hero standing with a raised chin against the worst of storms, hardly flinching as lightning cleaved the sky in two around him. Instead, I sounded like a scared, lost child cowering at the smallest hint of thunder.

"You think so?" James said, his gaze still raking up my body, and I could practically hear all the imaginings flickering to life in his head. My stomach lurched, threatening to spill what little food I had managed to force down a few hours ago. "I disagree."

"No, James, please—" I whimpered, my self-control slipping right through my fingers. "I can't—"

"Can't what, Tommy?" he asked, taking a step towards me. The space between us closed a single foot but he was still far too close and there was nowhere left for me to retreat to. And somehow, James's voice was calm, easy, almost questioning. To anybody peering in on the conversation, it wouldn't at all look like what it truly was. It would look like a conversation between friends. Not one between a predator and a flightless, hopeless bird.

In the end, I couldn't answer him.

"Come on, Tommy. Tell me. What can't you do?"

I opened my mouth and closed it again, the walls shrinking down on me, trapping me in with him. He took another step forwards. Something tight constricted around my lungs, knocking the breath out of me. The air turned sour anyway, as if it had gone rotten with his mere presence.

"Dammit, Thomas!" His voice echoed off of the walls, and just as had become natural, I flinched away, ready for whatever strike would land across my face. "Fucking answer me!"

"I can't go back, James, please," I whimpered, begged, because it was all I knew how to do.

James shook his head. "You're such a fucking whore, Thomas. But honestly, what else was I expecting?" Something in his gaze snapped, hardened, but a smile overcame his lips. It wasn't a smirk. It wasn't an evil grin. It was a simple smile, and perhaps the single most sickening thing I had seen in a long time. I pressed myself further against the wall but the wall never yielded and I wasn't any farther from him. "Go pack. We're leaving."

"I'm not—I can't—I don't want to—" Starts and stops and sentence fragments all failing to convey something that just couldn't be described.

"Oh? You don't want to?" he snapped, his tone sending shockwaves of adrenaline, fear, and unshakeable pain through my body. Strange how the smallest things could burn so badly. "That's fucking rich, Thomas, but I don't remember asking you what you wanted. You think I wanted you to leave me like the fucking whore you are?"

I couldn't meet the pure anger in his eyes. It was warranted, of course, but it still left me numb.

"Do you?" he demanded when the silence had stretched too long.

"No, James."

James shook his head once more, snapping his fingers as if I were some obedient little dog that was trained to do exactly what he wanted me to do. "Go. Pack," he repeated, tone firm and leaving no room for questions. "Now."

"I'm not going," I managed.

"Thomas," he sighed, his shoulders falling. "I don't have the time or the patience for your shit today. Let's go."

"I'm not going with you."

"So help me God, Thomas, if I have to fucking drag you out of here myself, I will." His hands twitched as they curled into fists, just another reminder of how much he actually wanted to hurt me. "This isn't a debate."

"I'm not leaving."

James sighed, disappointment and anger rolling off of him in troves. He stepped forwards again, closing the distance between us. "Listen, Tommy," he said softly, sweetly, as if that could erase all he had said and threatened seconds prior. "I know you're scared. I know that you're upset at me, for whatever reason. But you have got to realize that you're chasing some grand delusions. Do you honestly think anybody besides me actually cares about you?"

My protests died on my lips as my thoughts began to bend, surrendering to the chilling wind suddenly seeping through the apartment.

He did have a point.

"How long until they abandon you again? You aren't new, you aren't exciting, and they leave you. The second that you aren't the scared little "victim" they need to protect, they'll look elsewhere."

"You're not—that's not—"

But even as I fumbled for a defense, it slowly sunk in. No matter what I pretended otherwise, part of what he was saying was and always would be fundamentally true. There was nothing special about me. Nothing different. I had no permanent value to them, and they would throw me away the first chance they got. It wasn't their fault. It was just the nature of things. Fate playing her cruel game yet again.

"Tommy, no matter what you do or what you say, I will always be the only one who can ever love you. Nobody will ever share what we have."

My vision blurred as tears assaulted the corners of my eyes. I almost gave into them, and had I been any weaker than I already was, James would once again see me as nothing more than a crying mess laying before him on the floor. But I managed to keep them in, at least for the dwindling seconds I had left.

James closed the distance between us, leaving nothing more than the space of a breath between us. I could smell his cologne, strong and the very scent that follows me around everywhere I go, always persistent. Every time I get a whiff of the same old cedar and ginger, memories I'd give anything to forget drift up from the void, and I go weak. Vulnerable. Lost.

"Come on, Tommy," he murmured, his breath hot against my ear.

He was too close. Too close too close too close.

"Let's put this whole thing behind us, yeah?" His fingers snaked down, wrapping around my wrist, pulling me closer and closer towards him when all I wanted was for the rest of the world and every single thing in it to disappear. I craved nothingness, ached for it despite the fact that it was a touch I had never known. I wanted to let its complete neutrality wash over me once and for all, to experience nothing and be all the happier for it. I wanted everything to fall away into that infinite void of complete barrenness. No light, no dark, no cold, no warmth. No James. No me.

"Leave me alone," I managed to say, the words rising from some part of me that I was so sure had died thousands of years ago and shriveled to dust and ash. I ripped my hand out of his grasp, pushing him away from me. I think some stupid little thought in my brain hoped he'd dissolve with that. Hoped my hands would pass right through him and he would disappear just like the ghost he had become to me. A fraction of a memory, the ruins of something that had once been next to perfect.

But James didn't fade into that sweet nothingness like I hoped he would. He didn't waver. He didn't flinch.

Instead, he grabbed me by the arm, dragged me forwards, and threw me down as if I was nothing more to him than a toy he was bored of playing with. A toy to be forgotten and trampled and shoved away into the darkest parts of a closet.

I hit the floor. Hard. The wooden tile scraped against my palms as I slid across it, hardly able to save myself in time. A whimper of pain rose to my throat but never escaped into the air.

"Honestly, how pathetic can you actually be?" James scolded, his footsteps heavy against the floor as he approached.

We might as well have been back in our dorm room, for all the thousands of times this exact same thing had happened. This exact same scene, those exact same words. This exact same utter hopelessness undercutting pain, undercutting disappointment. And frankly, I'd rather we were back in that tiny, cramped excuse of a home than spoil the image of the perfect one Alexander had crafted and offered for me.

James approached, just as he had all those thousands of times before. It didn't take much to picture what came after this. He'd grab me, hit me, kick me, do anything he could to establish that unwavering control he had over me, causing pain just for the sake of causing pain.

He never changed.

This never changed.

"I'm not going to tell you again, Thomas."

I didn't answer him. My entire body shook as he inched closer and closer, and although a part of me just barely registered that I should be doing everything I could to escape while I still had the chance, I couldn't move. I couldn't run. I couldn't flee. I was frozen in place and frozen in time with nothing to hold onto. No anchor, no hero ready to rise from the shadows as silent as a wraith with the sole duty to save me and bring me away from what seemed like an inescapable, crushing world.

"You have no fucking right to be mad at me," he persisted, his fingers threading through my hair and gripping, tightly. Tears burned my vision, a scream burned my throat. It all burned. "You're the one who left. You're the one who hurt me. Get the fuck up."

Somehow, I managed to wrench myself free from his grasp, staring at him as I gasped for breath but no breath came. The tears finally broke free from their cage and before I knew it I was sobbing, sobbing, sobbing and James didn't care, he didn't once stop, he could have straight up laughed in my face and I wouldn't have known the difference. He's unforgiving. He's cruel. And he never stops.

"Stop fucking crying and get up."

"James," I begged, choking his name out between the harsh hysterics threatening to silence me forever.

Pain, hot and blinding, tore across my face. Once. Twice. The sound of his hand against my skin echoed through the air, tolling like church bells on a dark, overcast day. Somehow, between the blows, I managed to scramble to my feet in fear of all the bruises he'd add simply because he could. All the bruises that would destroy all the progress I thought I had been making.

And I came to that slow, horrid realization.

Nobody is going to save me.

James is going to take me away and Alexander will never know what happened.

James is going to kill me and leave me somewhere where I will deteriorate beyond recognition and Alexander will see me as some ungrateful whore who took advantage of his warmth, of his friendship, and fled.

I am going to die and nobody will ever bother looking for me.

Nobody can save me now.

James grabbed me by the arm, his fingers so cold they burned. He dug into my wrists as hard as he could, no doubt leaving just another row of bruises simply because that was the power he had over me.

I'm so tired of bruises with their ugly fireworks of dull blue and aching green. I want to paint my body with vibrant, bright shades of red and pink and purple that scream warmth and love and a happiness I know I'll never see. But I'll never get the chance to know those colors, for they had been ripped away from me eons ago and crumbled to dust, turning gray and black and lifeless.

I'm so tired.

James dragged me through the room despite my resistance, and it stands to reason that I should have had no problem shaking him off being almost a foot taller but his grip was so strong and I was so fundamentally weak compared to him and a part of me knew it would be useless to even try so why even try. It would be easier, simpler, better to just give up and let James have his way because he'd take what he'd want in the end no matter what I tried. Let him take all he wants and maybe he'll go easy.

Nobody can save you now, echoed that voice, drowning out the thousands of others in their clamor to be heard.

And then, the door opened.

His voice rang out, as clear as if sunshine finally decided to break the storm clouds apart, finally ready to let its warmth shine on the undeserving land below. "Hey, Thomas. I'm back! How's ev—"

He trailed off, glancing up from his phone. It took all of two seconds for the situation to sink in.

Even if my vision hadn't been blurred by the incessant barrage of tears streaming down my face, I still wouldn't have been able to see Alexander's expression. The glare from the hallway seeped into the room, plunging his face into a plethora of shadows. The yellow light surrounded him, outlining his figure like a halo.

He was an angel. An angel come to save me.

A heavy silence fell over the three of us, broken only by the frantic beating of my heart and my own desperate attempts to catch my breath. James said nothing, as if daring Alexander to speak first. His grip around my arm tightened and although I wasn't in a position to see it I could still perfectly envision the sneer plastered across his face, clear as day.

And finally, Alexander's voice echoed through the room.

"Let. Go. Of. Him."

James ignored him. "Alexander, listen," he said instead, so calm and perfectly composed, the exact contrast of what he had been mere seconds earlier. "I don't want any trouble. I'm just taking back what's mine."

"He is not yours. You have five fucking seconds to get out before I call the police."

"You do realize how much easier your life would be without this miserable whore in it, right?" James asked, shoving me to the ground as if to put me on display for all the world to see.

Somehow I managed to catch myself, but I didn't dare move. I don't think I could have even if I wanted to. The world swam around me in sharp, short bursts of colors and images. Those same old voices screamed through my head just when I thought I was finally free from them, but of course I wasn't free. I'd never be free.

So I stared at the ground as the battle waged around me, wishing that the world would stop swaying for just a few seconds. Just long enough for me to catch my breath.

"Don't fucking call him that," Alexander hissed.

James sighed a very pronounced sigh. "Oh, Alexander. You might not understand yet but you will. Really, I'm just trying to help you, you know."

"Get out."

"Can't we talk about this like rational adults?"

"Get out."

I kept my eyes trained on the wooden planks underneath me because they were solid and unmoving and I knew that if I looked up, James would be there just as he always was. Ever-present. Constant. Unfaltering. My eyes traced the grooves in the wood because it was all I could do.

In.

Out.

It should have been easy but it was not easy. The world ripped my breath away and left me with nothing.

"Fine," James said all of a sudden, the single syllable wrenching into my thoughts and tearing them apart. I could feel myself shaking but hardly registered it. The world around me slowly started to lose its focus, becoming nothing more than the series of fading lights dotting the horizon as you drove across the highway, leaving them behind for good.

"Fine?" Alexander repeated, his tone sharper than I had ever heard it before, which was kinda funny considering all the things he used to say to and about me a thousand years ago.

"If you want him so much, then you can have him. You'll get bored of him. You'll realize what a pathetic mess he is. You'll give him up. And he'll come back to me. He always does."

"Get out!" Alexander snapped, and James finally obliged. He stepped right past me and towards the door, never stopping once, pushing past Alexander as he retreated. The fall of his boots against the tile echoed throughout the room. Only when he reached the doorway did he finally stop, turning back to me as though I was an afterthought.

"I'll see you later, yeah, Tommy?"

The name stabbed right through my chest like a dagger, reaffirming everything I had fought so hard to forget. I managed to look at him, and he smiled at me before leaving and shutting the door promptly in his wake.

"Oh, Thomas," Alexander said immediately once the door had fallen shut, not allowing its echoes to finish resounding against the walls before he dropped to the floor and pressed himself to my side. "Oh, God, you're bleeding."

He reached to touch my face but instinct kicked in, as unforgiving and cruel as anything can be, and I flinched away from Alexander's touch before that familiar embrace of pain wrapped its scaly tentacles around me once more.

"Let me see," Alexander said, pulling his hands away but never once wavering.

"I'm fine," I somehow managed to say. I drew away from him despite how much I wanted to press myself close and feel the healing warmth radiate off of his skin. I wanted him to hold me and never let me go, if only to remind me there was still some good in this universe.

But that would be a naïve and stupid lie.

There is nothing good left.

"Goddammit, Thomas, you're not fine! Let me help." The plea hang heavy in the air, marked by that undertone of anger mixed with fear. I slid backwards, praying I misunderstood, praying this was not what I thought it would be.

I touched my face, wincing as even that somehow caused little electric shocks of pain to rocket right through me. My fingers dampened the second they found the blood seeping down from my nose and mouth.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, slipping a few feet further away from him.

"It's not your fault," Alexander returned, a tick of impatience dotting his tone. "Here. Please let me help you."

I gave in.

Alexander fetched a washcloth and set to work, cleaning the blood from my face as I did everything in my power not to squirm, not to coil away from his touch. It was so warm, and I was so undeserving. He worked in the most uncomfortable silence in the world, leaving me with absolutely nothing to cling to. I kept my eyes trained on the couch, trying to fight back the last of the tears.

He was so good to me. I didn't deserve him. I never have.

"A-are you mad at me?" I asked after a moment once the silence had become absolutely unbearable.

Alexander sighed. "Yeah. A little."

"O-oh." I drew backwards, the emptiness that followed his touch leaving a cold void in the pit of my stomach. I swallowed, staring at anything but his eyes.

"I'm not done yet."

"I'll take care of it myself. I'm sorry."

Alexander offered me the dampened washcloth and shifted backwards, saying nothing. His anger was so palpable in the air, bitter and electrifying. I could practically feel myself beginning to wither in the absence of his light, nothing more than a dying plant cast in shadows. Finally, he sighed. "I'm calling the police in the morning."

"You can't," I said softly, risking a glance up at him. His face was so cold and so strangely impassive, the anger barely registering. My breath caught in my throat as my blood slowly turned to fine, sharp ice.

"Thomas, this isn't about you anymore," he snapped. "Now that psychopath actually knows where I live! Now, you've dragged me into your shit!"

I recoiled, a fledgling of panic taking flight in my chest.

No. This couldn't be happening. Please tell me this wasn't happening.

"I'm sorry," Alexander said after a moment, his shoulders caving as a deep sigh coaxed its way from his lips. "I shouldn't yell at you. I just expected you to have known better."

"What...what do you mean?" I barely choked out, fear creeping up and sitting in my throat like a stone wall.

He laughed, a short humorless thing that left me somehow more empty, somehow more destroyed. "I mean, what did you think was going to happen when you let him in? He'd just apologize and leave you alone?" Alexander shook his head fiercely, staring at the couch. God, he sounded so disappointed in me. "He's not gonna fucking disappear, you realize that, right? I'm going to actually do something about it instead of waiting for somebody to fix it for me."

Something in my chest seemed to absolutely shatter as his words floated through the air. A disgusting, bitter taste filled my mouth and lungs, somehow overpowering the iron of the blood.

"I didn't let him in—" I started.

"Oh, no? So he just magically appeared in my apartment, all on his own. Come on, Thomas. Don't fucking lie to me."

"I'm not lying! I didn't let him in! You have to believe me, I—"

"Well, I don't believe you." Each word pierced the silence, slicing right through the home he had created for me.

I shrunk backwards, my eyes glazing over. I couldn't get small enough. I couldn't seem to disappear no matter how hard I tried. The threat of sobs filled my throat and I couldn't breathe, couldn't grasp onto the thousands of thoughts screaming through my head. I thought for sure he would have silenced them with one of his warm smiles but here I was, empty and alone and cold.

This didn't seem real. It was like something from a nightmare, a monster that followed me around despite everything I tried. But at least before, I had that small sense of safety believing Alexander would never hurt me and now I was back to absolutely nothing.

"I'm s-sorry, Alexander," I said, my fingernails digging into my wrist, breaking skin. It hurt but I deserved the pain.

"How do you expect me to help you if you won't even help yourself?"

"I d-didn't let him in, okay?"

"So how'd he get in, then? I know I locked it. I always lock it."

"Doesn't John have a key or something?" I asked, hugging at my body so it would be harder for him to grab me if that's what this became. And let's face it. It always got there in the end.

"Don't you dare blame this on John!"

"N-no, th-that's not what...that's not what I meant, okay? I—"

"Just shut up."

I fell silent. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, and for a moment, I wanted to drown in it. I wanted to die, if it meant not having to watch as the most wonderful person in the world get corrupted by the pure evil that seemed to seep off of James, pouring into every crack and infecting all that it could.

"Alexander, I n-never wanted this to happen, o-okay?"

"I just want to stop having to fucking worry about you for five minutes. Is that so much to ask for?"

With a start, I realized that I had never really stopped shaking.

"I want to help you, Thomas. Really I do. But how the hell am I supposed to do that? You do realize that I care about you, right? I never wanted to. I never fucking asked for any of this shit. And yet, here I am."

A sob managed to break free, materializing into the air as a pitiful whimper. I shrunk backwards as Alexander fixed me under that completely unfeeling stare. I wondered how pathetic I looked. Like a lost bird with a broken wing, just waiting to die. It seems that's all I manage to get right.

"Alexander, please, I—"

"I just can't do this tonight, Thomas."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"Just go," he snapped, his voice finally breaking. He pointed towards the door, as if I couldn't find it on my own. I hadn't ever wanted to but now it looked like I had no choice.

I nodded, drawing myself to my feet. I wiped away the blood pouring from my nose with my thumb. "R-right. I'm so...I'm so sorry for w-wasting your time."

And before he could say anything else, I retreated.

Into the night, into the cold. Into the blinding darkness where everything withered and died.

Looks like James was right after all.

He'll never want me.

Nobody can save you now.