//TW: swearing, physical abuse, mentions of rape, graphic self-harm, domestic violence, self-hatred, suicidal thoughts\\

Guys!! Please!! Send me covers or I will have to resort to my own crappy creations!!

Thomas

Fear.

Fear is ice. It's chilling. It's deadly. It's frostbite, seeping through whatever defenses you hastily set up and tearing them apart in a matter of seconds, pricking your body with a thousand, sharpened daggers until there's nothing left but blood and tears.

Fear is the sour taste in your mouth, the taste of rot and death, the taste of destruction and the knowledge that it was too late to stop it. It is the taste of running for hours but never going anywhere. It is the taste of thick, metallic blood welling up on your lips after you finally give into one hit after another, unable to do anything about it but just give up and let them come.

Fear is the creeping desire of death to finally release you from this mess of a world.

And then there's love.

Love.

Love is fire. It's warmth. And it's just as deadly. It's either the flickering of fireflies as they uncovered a forest changed by the night or the roaring flames of an uncontrolled fire rendering the forest to nothing but ash and embers burning themselves out.

Love is the dulling colors of the world around you, turning you ignorant to everything else. It's unfocused vision, colorful dots that look pretty but keep thousands of unearthed secrets cloaked and hidden by the soft hues. It's blind trust and hopeful faith, knowing that all you can do is follow the person you depend on more than anything else in the world.

Love is not just the certainty, but it's also the unknowing.

And I am tired of not knowing.

James was my world. My moon, my sun, my stars. There were moments where I hated myself for hating him, just as many moments as I wished he would just disappear. But whether he was burning ice or freezing fire, I'd never know.

All I knew was that I couldn't handle it anymore.

In a twisted, wretched way, fear is similar to love. Far too similar. Both horrid beasts are followed with the thrill of your heart fluttering against your ribcage. Both weakened your legs, setting the world around you in motion until you collapse. Both have the power to either shut you down or power you up. And both will sit back and watch as you crumble to nothingness, forgotten by the world.

So was it love, or was it fear? Or, in a cruel sense of irony, had the two been so far twisted together that I was incapable of telling the difference? Had the two become nothing more than a knot of many different strings, tangled and ruined forever?

As if prying into my thoughts and hating what he found, James slammed the dorm room door shut, sending a shockwave of that cold, dreaded fear pelting through my body like hail raining down from an endlessly gray sky. He was gone, and I was alone, and I was both relieved and horrified.

My eyes found themselves glued to the unchanging gray wall, mind wandering with the thousands of different punishments James could inflict the second he got back. I could already smell the alcohol on his breath, taste the lust on his lips as he'd shove me against the mattress, pressing closer and closer until nothing else in the world existed but the two of us and the endless stream of pain that never stopped flowing whenever he was near.

My cheeks burned with both pain and shame, a token, a souvenir of the blows and the hits he delighted in. But he hadn't stopped at physical abuse. If I closed my eyes, I could still feel the endless touch of his body pressing mine against the cold, unforgiving mattress and his sharp, claw-like fingernails digging into bare skin. If I closed my eyes, I could still taste his sweet lips moving against mine, just another lie. If I closed my eyes, I could picture every detail of what he had done to me painted in full, vivid colors, taunting me with a vigor I would never understand.

And I didn't want to close my eyes ever again.

I waited a few moments, arms wrapped around my body as though that could protect me. A stupid, insignificant part of me deep inside whispered those devastating hopes in the back of my mind. Hopes that maybe he'd come back. Maybe he'd apologize. Maybe he'd hold me until we both became absolved of all the things we had done. Maybe we could start over, and I could kiss him without feeling like I was losing a part of myself.

And after ten long minutes passed, and darkness and silence continued to bite at my flesh and tear my heart into pieces, I finally realized he was gone and he would not come back until he wad too drunk to remember all the things he had done.

My hand reached for the knife that was sitting on the bedside table, incomplete without my blood gathered on the metal. Its blade was cool, but deliciously so, against my fingers. Cold like fear, but the blood soon to be trickling down my wrist would be warm like love. How had the line between the two become so blurred?

I inspected the blade for a moment before pulling on the clothing scattered along the floor and retreating to the bathroom. Even though I was utterly alone in the dark, empty dorm, I locked the door behind me. Habit, I suppose. Instead of cleaning myself off like I longed to do, ridding myself of the way his body felt against mine for as long as I could, I stood over the sink, knife placed precariously against my wrist, heart thundering in my chest.

I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing, but that was as impossible a task as putting the broken shards back together again. The knife sang the words always laying dormant in the back of my mind, not so much a threat as they were a promise.

Worthless.

It seared into my skin, dancing as gracefully as the flickering of candle fire.

Unloved.

Pain burst to life, fireworks of color heralding something far more magnificent than I truly was.

Burden.

A rhythm, now, smooth and practiced, like the melodic, melancholy song of the violin. Oh, how I missed my violin.

Unwanted.

Burning tears stuck to my cheeks as spatter stained the porcelain white sink yet another time.

Waste of space.

Another and another and another. There was never any sense of satisfaction. No gratification, no sick sense of peace that came with it. Just the layers of pain and heartache and misery that I wore so frequently it became a part of who I was. Thomas didn't exist without pain. There was no "me" if there was no fear.

Why stop here?

I paused, the bathroom blurred by tears and coming in uneven bursts of light. I was only vaguely aware of the sound of my heartbeat echoing through my ears as I pondered the question stinging on my wrists. Why stop here? I wasn't needed. I wasn't loved. I wasn't cared for. I could easily end my life right here and nobody would notice.

Nobody would notice.

Nobody.

And maybe, if I left, then the world would be lighter, freed from just another burden. I've often wondered if the very earth we walk on notices when something dies, if it feels the pain along with us. It's unrealistic, nothing more than the hopes of a deranged, lost child, but there's some solace to the idea that somewhere, miles away, something could be there for me in my last few moments. Something could say goodbye.

With unsteady breathing and a shaky hand, I moved the knife up to my throat. The blade was somewhat of a comfort against my skin as I whispered a few words underneath my breath. Not a prayer, just an apology, but to whom, I didn't know. Just a quick slit. It would be over in mere moments. Fear ran its long tendrils down the length of my spine, chills blossoming like the flowers of early spring. Fear, sharp and biting and painful, but it would last for the fraction of a second, and then everything would just...

Disappear.

I closed my eyes and swallowed, hands quivering. The coward inside of me couldn't watch. And even worse, there was that detestable worm squealing in protest, begging me to hold on for just a little bit longer. But what for? So I could live through this torture day after day after day?

What are you waiting for?

Nobody would miss me. Nobody would care. I would be doing James the biggest favor I could ever do. He'd finally be free, and he'd find someone he truly deserved, who was truly his equal and the love of his life. He wouldn't have to put up with me.

The world will still spin, regardless of the comet that shoots past, gone in the single blink of an eye.

So why wasn't I dead already?

I hissed, pressing the blade closer but never feeling the sting of it breaking against my skin. If I just flicked my wrist, it would be over.

Why wasn't I strong enough? Why wasn't I good enough?

I was never meant to last. It had been built into me the second I had been born, my fate. Tied neatly around my fingers in a spool of thick, red fabric so similar to blood. I was never meant to live, to thrive, to enjoy. I could end everything now and the circle would be completed.

Tears burned in the corners of my eyes as I gasped for breath, trying to work up the courage to just end it already. It disgusted me, the way I whimpered. Like a disobedient animal.

Do it, already.

I applied just the tiniest bit of pressure, feeling the blade finally break free.

And a single thought burned bright in my mind out of nowhere, a face unchanged in the four years that could have weathered away the strongest of mountains. A smile, understanding and sweet, outshining the rest of the world. A star I did not deserve to see.

And that worm inside of me won the fight with that single image of the smiling boy, gazing at me with a wonder I didn't understand.

I opened my eyes and set the knife down against the white sink stained with the crimson roses of blood. The worst of the tears broke free of their iron barred cage, sliding down my face with reckless abandon. I sloshed the warm water sloshed against my arms, washing away the blood and essentially freeing myself of the horrid things that I deserved. I blinked, watching myself in the mirror, then retreated to my room and found my phone, laying abandoned on the bedside table.

It had been a week. Would he even remember me? His promise still hung in the air, and whenever I closed my eyes and tried real hard, I could picture the slope of his handwriting with those three, simple words. My hand hovered over the phone, waiting for a sign, something, anything. I blinked once more, just to give myself a second at most, and there was that image one more time. I let out a sharp exhale.

I dug the slip of paper out of the bag laying at my feet and punched the numbers in, hesitating on the last one.

And the sound of ringing filled the air. That dreaded dial tone, the last shred of hope I could cling onto. Its haunting rings echoed through the silent dorm once, twice, then finally, an answer.

My breath caught in my throat as I waited, desperate to hear his voice filled with something I hadn't heard in so long. But the person on the other end spoke, and my hopes were dashed against the rocks in the blink of an eye.

"Helloooo?" sang a familiar voice, one that I knew but couldn't place in the moment. I didn't answer, falling back against the wall, my breathing once more an uncontrolled mess as I tried to force down the sobs teetering dangerously on the tip of my mouth. "Hello?" repeated the voice, a kid who I had known since sophomore year of high school. He was one of Alexander's friends, wasn't he? What was his name, John? "Who is this?"

"I'm sorry," I said, finding myself. I ran a hand through my hair and gripped as tightly as I could until my head began to throb.

Of course. It was all a trick. Why had I been suspecting anything else? What stupid part of me thought Alexander was going to be different? It was so easy, to make fun of the weak failure who can't defend himself, who'll sit there and take it and smile because that's what he's supposed to do. Why would Alexander have actually cared about me?

"Who is this?" John repeated, voice growing hard with a heavy layer of suspicion.

"I'm so sorry," I repeated, spiraling out of control the more I spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I have the wrong number. I didn't mean to call you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

"Wait. Jefferson?" he asked, a sudden spiteful poison touching his tone. He must have recognized my voice or something, and he must have hated what he had found. "What are you—what do you mean?" But he didn't say that last part to me. Somebody else, so far but so close at the same time, just barely out of reach. "Are you—God, you're infuriating."

I waited, breath caught in my throat. And finally, a soft, "Thomas?"

I bit down on my tongue, savoring the way he said my name for as long as I could let myself.

"You called," Alexander said, almost breathless.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were busy. I can call back another—"

"No!" he exclaimed at once, cutting into my thoughts before I even knew what I was saying, myself. "No, please don't go. I'm sorry. You just surprised me, that's all." A pause, a moment of weakness, and a sigh that meant more than it was supposed to. "You know, I was actually worried you weren't going to. Call me, that is."

"Oh." I set the phone down on the bed and gripped the blankets as tightly as I dared, eyes glued to the bright glow of the screen. It was nothing like the light of a guardian angel, and yet, I could finally let myself breathe around it. "Am I interrupting something? I can—"

"John's just helping me study for the final tomorrow, but he fucking sucks at it."

"Listen up, buddy," came John's voice, slightly more muffled now that he was further away from the phone. "You're the one who wanted my help."

"And it was, possibly, the worst decision I've ever made," Alexander returned, humor edging his tone.

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely."

"Then why don't I just leave, huh?"

"Be my guest."

A long pause, and John scoffed. "Okay, look. I'm not going to just give you what you want. If you want me to leave, you'll have to kill me."

And Alexander laughed.

I wiped the tears away from my eyes, cheeks burning with embarrassment. It felt like I was intruding, peeking in on something I had no business to see. I opened my mouth, a thousand excuses flying to the tip of my tongue, but Alexander spoke again, and they all dissolved in an instant.

"Quiz me."

"On what?"

"Anything!" he exclaimed, and though I couldn't see him, I could imagine his large, gleaming grin slicing through the darkness surrounding me. And like a moth drawn to the nearest flame, I couldn't look away from the beacon of hope right in front of me. A final chance.

One that I couldn't afford to lose.

"Uh, okay," I said, a laugh awakening in my throat. "Let's see. Uh, summarize the Battle of Saratoga."

"Oh, c'mon!" he protested. "That's easy!"

I didn't realize how long we were talking, John helpfully chiming in whenever he felt like it. He never asked any questions about anything other than history, and I couldn't have been more grateful. We carefully skirted around the topic weighing down on my shoulders, the stinging pain sharp against my wrists, never mentioning what we were all thinking. But we talked and we talked and we talked, about nothing and everything at the same time. There was nothing personal, but it was perhaps the most meaningful conversation I had had in what felt like centuries.

No, I didn't realize how long we were talking until the sound of the door opening and closing jolted me from the safe, secluded island I had found myself on. "I have to go," I said quickly, quietly, in case he heard me. Footsteps echoed from the other room, getting closer to my door. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Wait, what do you mean? You can't just go!" Alexander protested, almost as if he wanted to talk to me and spend as much time around me as he could. That, I didn't understand.

"James... uh, well, he's home. Can we talk tomorrow?"

"I—okay. Sounds good. I'll see you tomorrow. Good night, Thomas."

"Yeah. Later," John added, but the last of what he was saying clipped off as I hurriedly hung up and deleted the call from my history. But as foolish as it was, as naive and as stupid and as idiotic as it made me, I saved his phone number as a contact, cementing the cursed idea that this wasn't just a one-time thing.

I collapsed onto my bed and closed my eyes just as James opened the door to my room. The soft pillow welcomed me like an old friend, and I wrapped the heavy blanket around my body, praying he would leave. He said nothing to me, but there was nothing to say. James stepped over and sat down on my bed, quiet but watching.

I don't know how long he stayed, as I was asleep a few moments later, the fabricated thought of Alexander smiling forever pressed into the back of my mind. And for once, the ice melted.

Just a little.

~•~

"Thank God," Alexander crowed from besides me as the bell finally rang. His fingers grasped the edge of my desk, inches away from my hand. Not once did he look away from my face, showering my with an attention I didn't deserve. The sun never even blinked at the planets orbiting it, depending on its warmth every moment of every day, so why should Alexander give me more than just a passing thought?

But he was there in front of me, so tangible and so real.

"It wasn't so hard as Washington built it up to be," he said, rolling his eyes as an added exaggeration. He grinned even more as Professor Washington looked up at his name, saw us watching him, and heaved a sigh that only Alexander could merit from such a calm, emotionally-put-together man.

I slid my hand in front of my mouth, hiding my laugh. Alexander sat down on top of his desk, glancing around as the rest of the class slowly began to file out of the room. Almost like he was looking for somebody. But in the moment, I didn't care who else was important enough to arrest his attention, especially not with the way he spoke to me, like I was the only one that mattered.

I was content to listen to Alexander and Alexander only, but not all good things can last. The person he was looking for crawled up behind me, as silent and as deadly as a snake, and dug those venomous fangs into my arm.

"Thomas."

My blood froze in my veins as the voice drifted over me. Alexander fell quiet, his expression unreadable, gazing at the man standing behind us.

I lost the ability to speak as James set his hand on my shoulder, his sharp fingernails practically digging past the cloth of my shirt and finding the vulnerable flesh underneath. "You ready to go, Tommy?" he asked, his mouth far too close to my ear.

"I—" I started, but Alexander rose to his feet.

"Actually, Thomas and I were talking," he said simply, clasping his hands behind his back. It was almost unnatural how he could go from fun and playful to dangerous and deadly in a matter of seconds.

James's fingers curled even more; I had to bite down on my tongue to stop myself from letting out a soft wince of pain. An unspoken challenge hung heavily in the air as the two stared each other down. I didn't dare look behind me, didn't dare look at James. How could I, when I had betrayed him as I had? Talking to Alexander was a mistake, and I was a fool to think otherwise.

"Come on, Tommy," James said, but it wasn't meant for me as much as it was a show of strength and dominance towards Alexander. "Let's go."

I grabbed at my wrists, still stinging from the night before. I knew I should have stood up and followed James as his hand skirted down until it was grabbing mine, but my body wouldn't move, as traitorous as it was.

"Tommy," James repeated, the word growing harsher the more frustrated he became. He tugged on my hand, and without even thinking about it, I shifted a little away from him. "Let's go."

Alexander's gaze sought mine, never demanding, only asking. His lips parted slightly, waiting for me. Relying on me. Depending on me.

"Thomas." It was hardly more than a few hissed syllables, barely cloaking the true anger lurking in James's voice. His hand gripped my wrist now, doing everything he could to remind me exactly who I belonged to.

"I—" I tried again, but the words left me, and Alexander just...deflated. The gleam in his eyes disappeared, and although he didn't outright voice his disappointment, it lingered in the drooping of his shoulders and the fall of his grin. It was terrible, the way such a smile vanished so quickly. Like a world plunged into darkness, unable to even comprehend the hope of seeing the light ever again. There was something so fundamentally wrong about seeing him fall like that.

"Thomas, I'm not going to ask you again," James warned, but I had made up my mind the second I had called Alexander the night before, desperate to be free from the chains of ice that James kept me captive with.

"I'm going to hang out with Alexander for today," I said, sharp and loud and clear with a courage singing through me that I had simply never heard before. I pulled my hand away from James's cold, hard grasp and finally turned to face him. And as much as I wanted to, I didn't dare look away.

He laughed, an attempt to gain control of the situation. "Are you—are you serious?"

"It's for one of our classes." The lie came to my mouth too easily, the shrug in my shoulders too natural.

And Alexander picked up exactly where I left off, not even flinching. "We really need to study for our next final." His words became more pointed, almost barbed. "You understand, of course?"

"No."

"James—"

"No. You don't need to." Panic. Raw, and far more powerful than the icy calm that usually found its way dragging daggers through my skin.

"It's just for a little bit, okay?" I said, folding my hands in my lap. I forced myself to soften, to brush my hand against his in all the right ways. "I'll make it up to you later, okay? I promise."

James blinked, then glanced behind me at Alexander. Something passed in his eyes, something I had never seen before but had seen see a thousand times since. And just like that, his shoulders fell, and the panic was replaced once more by that steely, icy calm. "Fine."

I relaxed, only slightly. Before I could thank him, he turned and walked away silently, sending another chill spiraling down the back of my neck. With that single word, he had promised far more than I would be able to handle, but that was a problem for later.

I glanced back at Alexander, who's smile was overpoweringly wonderful. "Come on," he said with a grin, offering me his hand.

And I didn't think twice when I took it.