//TW: emotional, physical, and sexual abuse, self-harm, suicide, self-hatred, manipulation and gaslighting, death, trauma, swearing\\

Thomas

It's almost funny, how old memories deceive us so easily. In our desperate attempts to block out the suffering of the present, we look to the comfort of the past, hoping that somehow, we can erase the paths we've already walked and find a new solace, write up a new ending to a story that has been completed almost a million years before.

But it's remarkably hard, to try and forget. To rewrite a past as well as a future. And in the end, even the most magnificent change will never truly alter all that much.

For in the end, we all still die.

And yet, we clutch onto these memories, hoping somehow that we can turn them into our present, that we can rekindle their spark and relight a fire that has burned out so long ago.

We clutch onto these memories because they are all that we have, and they are all that will follow us into death.

~•~

There's one memory in particular I like to revisit, one that reminds me both of what I've lost and what I once had. It's torture to see that small butterfly of hope fluttering through my mind, only to wake up and watch as it gets crushed between two unforgiving hands that were created only to inflict pain.

But I hold onto it, still, for it makes me smile. And on days like today, I need that glimmer of all that came before.

Neither of us could've been older than six or seven. It was the Fourth of July, and the Madisons, Skeltons, and Paynes had come over to watch the fireworks with us.

I remember the sweet smell of the smoke of the fire as Dad started grilling hotdogs.

Oh, Dad.

I miss him so much.

I remember the feeling of dried watermelon juice against our faces, the rewards of a previous plunder in which we snatched them from a group of angry mothers.

I remember the cool, almost relieving evening compared to the hot summer day we experienced that morning as well as the anticipation for the fireworks to go off.

I remember the way the grass tickled my bare palms, dancing in the easy breeze drifting across our own forgotten hilltop as we sat together, staring up at the endless sky above our heads.

I remember the gentle lull of his voice, though I could not tell you what we were talking about. It must have been stupid, something completely trivial compared to the words that leave his lips behind closed doors nowadays, but back then, those few things we shared together were my entire world.

We were children. We were blind to the world, unaware of the way our futures would intertwine, would tangle together in this awful mess it had become. We were unaware of the simple truth and all that it meant, happy to live our lives in blissful ignorance, happy to never have to know firsthand what suffering really meant.

It was always Thomas and James.

Never apart. Always together. One in the same. It was a fact of life, one that we never questioned, one we just assumed would always be true regardless of what happened. I was his and he was mine, and as long as we had one another, we would never need anybody else.

He promised me the world. He promised me a sanctuary I would always have when I needed one, a safety net to catch me when my wings snapped in half in the middle of a daring dive. He promised me that I would have him, even without murmuring those words, even without ever knowing he had made that vow.

He had promised to always protect me.

Who knew he had been lying?

Who knew that he would be the one I needed protection from in the first place?

~•~

Lafayette was an old family friend. So close I actually thought he was my cousin until I was eleven. He would come visit America every August, and he would spend the time with my family in Virginia.

Besides James, he was perhaps the first real friend I ever had, the first person I could share my insecurities with. He's been apart of my life for just as long, and he was just as important, and I was foolish to forget that.

Laf and I were friends ever since birth, it seemed like. I don't remember a time where I didn't know him, just like you can't remember a time where you didn't know your cousin.

Of course, the whole moving to New York thing at around the same time was a coincidence. We got extremely lucky.

I should have treasured him more, for the memories of his laughter, his smile, his easy attitude and optimism even when I couldn't see the light fought against the darkness for quite a while until that darkness became too much to handle. The memories of the way with which he viewed the world were so easy to hold onto, and so hold onto them I did until the mere thought of him made me sick to my stomach, corrupted as all memories are prone to do.

But he had always been there for me when I needed him, always ready to offer me his hand. If the world turned its back on me, at least I had Lafayette.

Until I didn't.

I met Aaron through James. I had just moved to New York in the middle of the school year– by myself of course, more on that later– and James had introduced me to a friend.

We weren't immediately close. I think the one thing we both had in common was our frustration with Alexander. It took time, but we grew to trust each other and eventually we became good friends.

I'd like to claim we've been friends ever since, but I'd be lying.

For a long time, the two of them were my lifeline. Besides James, they were only people in the world I had as my own.

And look how that turned out.

Do I blame Laf and Aaron for abandoning me? Not in the slightest. In fact, I wish they would all do it again.

It's easier to just disappear when people don't care about you.

~•~

I just want to be loved. Is that really too much to ask for?

To know what it feels like to finally feel safe in the arms of somebody who keeps their promises, who whispers the sweetest words to you even when nobody else is around to hear them?

To bask in the light of the endless stars above our heads with somebody, listening to the way their voice tends to every word they say, creating a thousand new experiences in only a few moments?

To feel the warmth of somebody's arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me close as the soft patter of raindrops against the glass fills the room, singing its sweet lullaby?

Is it too much to ask for to know what love feels like?

But then again, I've never deserved it anyway.

~•~

I've always kinda wanted to be John's friend. I don't think I've always known it, but a part of me always has. I mean, he's an amazing person. Kind, brave, loyal. Who wouldn't want to be his friend?

I've admired that selfless determination, that undying commitment since the day I've met him. I've wanted it for myself in a thousand different ways.

I've always wanted to talk to him. We had art together in high school. The amount of inside jokes and stupid things we've said should've been enough to form a friendship over, but Alexander hated me so John hated me and that was the way it was.

But when Alexander and I became friends, started dating, I thought I'd finally get the chance.

And for a while, it actually seemed like it. It actually seemed like we could become friends.

Too bad that'll never happen.

He will forget about me, just like the rest of them will. They will leave me behind, my name nothing more than a forgotten word in an unfamiliar language on their tongue, and I will fade away from their minds. It's not the worst fate I could ask for.

He loves him, too.

In the exact same way I do and yet completely different.

John loves Alexander. It's written so plainly in the way he watches him, when nobody else can see. In the way he laughs when Alexander speaks, smiles. In the way the world seems to circle around the two of them, halting for their presences. They were meant to be together, made for each other like interlocking pieces.

I am a selfish fool, a worthless whore, to ever step into that, to ever try and take that away from them.

Maybe John is exactly what Alexander needs. Maybe Alexander will realize that he deserves John, and then they'll start dating and then they'll all be happy and they'll forget about me.

And everyone will finally be happy when I'm gone.

I will watch them walk away, imprisoned in my well-deserved cage of glass and iron and silk. I will watch them as they learn how to smile, as they find the happiness they deserve in each other, a happiness I could never have provided. For all I do is ruin people.

I will watch Alexander move on, learn what it is to be loved in return for all the love he gives. I will watch Alexander be happy with another person for the first time in years.

I will be forgotten, my body nothing more than ashes mixed with dust.

And I will smile, knowing that at least, Alexander is happy.

There's nothing I want more.

~•~

He grips me tighter.

His sharp fingers leave bruises.

I drift into space.

~•~

I used to love music. There's a different genre for each feeling. Anyone can listen to music and find a song they like. It was always so calming for me, a place to escape when you're upset or angry or just want to disappear.

I used to love music.

The passion, the sweetest escape, the chance to spread my wings and feel the air around me as I glide through a starlit sky. The only opportunity left to let go of this awful world and find even the remotest chance of happiness, as faint as it may be.

I used to love music.

But that was back when I loved myself.

~•~

It feels like eons ago, when I first told James that I cared for him. That I wanted him. That he completed some part of me I didn't know was unfilled, not whole. It feels like eons but I remember every single detail in sharp vividness, every single color, every single noise.

His eyes had widened but the feeling behind them was so unclear as he drifted backwards, my words processing in his mind. I remember how his silence had filled the air so completely, cutting straight through my chest, leaving my treacherous voice to hang in the air, unanswered.

Apologies had filled the void his silence created, my own worthless apologies as I scrambled backwards, attempting in vain to fix what I had done. I had poured myself into those three stupid words, and they had spilled across the neatly folded blanket underneath us, leaving me exposed and my wounds freshly torn open.

I tried to leave.

He had wrapped his hand around my wrist, pulled me back to him, and kissed me, slow and simple.

"I want you, too,"

he had whispered, his gentle plea a song to be celebrated.

And caught up in the euphoria, in the tingle of his lips against mine, I had believed them. I had melted into his touch and kissed him again and finally understood what it meant to be loved. I had lived for the taste of his mouth, the unspoken things he had promised me, every last butterfly that had come alive as he had laid his fingers against my face, pulling me closer.

And for the briefest blip in time, I had James.

And this thing that stands before me now, thrusting his body into mine, is not James.

He is not the boy I loved all those years ago.

~•~

Christmas feels like so long ago. It was a time of renewal, of another chance, of hope, of peace, of love. Back then, I actually thought that maybe everything would be okay.

I thought that fate had smiled down on me, I thought I would finally get the thing I had craved most: a second chance. I thought I would finally get the sweet, relieving kiss of darkness after facing the overbearing light for far too long.

I was wrong, of course. What else is new? Put it on my gravestone.

And if anyone was wondering, yes. I did notice Hercules following me. I assume Alexander asked him to, because it's either that or he followed me around because my life is like a soap opera to him and he had nothing better to do. So let's go for the former.

There was a comfort there, one I didn't realize at the time. As strange as I found it, I suppose I greatly appreciate his presence, watching out for me, protecting me from what hid in the shadows. Like my own guardian angel, I guess.

I have to hand it to the guy, he can be really sneaky when he wants to be.

In fact, I doubt a normal person would've noticed he was there. The only reason I knew was because for a split second, out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw James.

~•~

I envy Maria. She has someone she can always go to when she needs to. She has someone she can depend on at all times. Someone she can trust. Someone she can love.

But I guess I had that too and I threw it all away.

~•~

The Schuyler sisters are so close. Like, really close.

Even if they are worlds apart they still have one another to depend upon, to trust, to love. That's the greatest thing about family, always having a backbone even it you don't quite deserve one.

I used to be that close with my family, and then I moved to New York, and we just... fell out of touch.

I regret it every day. I regret letting go of the people who have shaped my life, who have created the very core of who I am. I still think about them every night just as I go to sleep, replay the conversations with my sisters and my brother, witness the moments I shared with my parents again and again. I pretend I have them for it makes me feel...less broken.

I think out of all of them, I was closest with Dad.

Oh Dad.

I wonder what he'd think about me. How would he feel knowing that he had a pitiful excuse of a person like me as a son?

And it's all my fault.

Perhaps if things had worked out even slightly differently, he'd be okay. And I'd be dead. And everything would be okay because that's what I deserve.

Perhaps if life had been fair, if the monsters saw their downfall, then I would no longer be on this earth, and people who actually deserved another chance would. How is it fair, that I got to live, where so many others simply didn't? How is it fair, that I was still alive when those that deserved to bask in the light were resigned to a world of infinite darkness?

If my father was here, what would he think? What would he do?

He'd be disappointed in me.

He'd hate me.

He'd wait for my death like we all do for the end of winter, waiting for the end of this wretchedness and hoping for the vitality of a new spring.

He'd want me gone once and for all.

Just like everyone else.

And do I blame them? Of course not.

~•~

It would be so easy.

Painless? Maybe.

I've never died before.

But it'd all be over quickly.

The quickest, easiest escape, the only solution to an illness that has been left to fester and infect for years now.

I can let go of this meaningless existence, stare up at the beautiful stars one last time, and return to them. With the stardust coursing through my blood, perhaps they will accept me again. Perhaps I will join them and become my own star, flickering bright in the sky for an instant, than dying as all things are destined to do.

And I'd be saving so many people so much time and effort, and although they swore they needed me, that they loved me, that they would lose themselves without my presence, they were wrong.

I knew better than to believe their lies crafted to get me to stay in a world when there was nothing left for me.

Maybe it wouldn't be painful. Maybe it would. Maybe dying is something that you can't compare to anything else, something that just cannot be described. Maybe it is its own experience, and the arbitrary feeling we know as "pain" is unique only to life, and after that life is over...

Maybe dying is just bleak nothingness.

But so many people would benefit if I was gone. So many people would be happier without me.

And who am I to deny them that?

It would be so easy. I wouldn't even have to watch myself bleed out onto the floor, the entire mess of my life flashing before my worthless eyes.

I think the worst part would be to die alone, locked in this bedroom, with nobody to cling to as the soul deep inside me withers and cracks and becomes nothing.

But maybe, if I close my eyes and hum the sweet lullaby he sang me that one time, all those eons ago, then perhaps I can pretend he is right beside me; I can fabricate the essence of the only person who has ever looked at me like I was something more than what I truly am, like I truly belong in this world of starlight and silk flower petals. Maybe I can call him one last time, just to hear his voice, just to see the boy who has given me so much.

Maybe I won't be so alone.

~•~

My fingers hovered over my phone for a brief moment as I stared down at the screen through tear-filled eyes. I typed out a single message, blinked away the tears, then deleted it.

As much as I wanted to say goodbye, to have one last thing to say to him before I disappear forever, before I take the imperfections of the world with me, I just couldn't muster the courage. I couldn't do that to him. I couldn't do that to myself.

I set my phone down on the side of the sink and murmured my final parting instead, quiet enough so that nobody can hear it, so that nobody can tarnish his perfect light.

His name tasted so sweet on my tongue.

~•~

James likes to pretend he's human. He likes to think he knows what he's doing, that he is fully aware of his actions.

But similar to how he sees me as a bird and Alexander as a cat, I see him as a wolf.

A half-starved, frightened, alone wolf.

And when the wolf gets hungry and needs to eat to survive, you do not blame the wolf for hunting down the bird.

It is the course of life. It is the creation and the end, and everything in between. There doesn't need to be a justification nor an explanation, just the promise that everything simply is, regardless of how we feel.

And so I do not blame James. For anything.

~•~

I do not deserve Alexander.

~•~

The stars are my last source of hope. I've always been interested in space. It's interesting, vast, infinite.

I stare up at them and I feel so small, so inconsequential. At the end of the day, my life is worthless and my suffering has been for nothing. And yet, at the same time, I feel like I've finally found somewhere where I belong. A home always there to comfort me, a place of safety and love. I feel like I am a part of something more.

There's so much to discover, so much to explore. So much to learn and to understand. I wish I could stick around long enough to see all of it.

I wish I could have seen some of it before I die.

~•~

The knife gleams in the yellow, flickering light of the grimy bathroom.

Tears and blood and sweat stick to my face.

I close my eyes, count to ten, and let out a breath.

There's nothing left for me here anyway.

~•~

Alexander: Wanna hear a joke?

Alexander: Of course you do.

Alexander: Did ya hear about the Italian chef?

Alexander: He PASTA way!

Alexander: Get it?

Alexander: Thomas?

Alexander: Thomas!?

Alexander: haha youre really scaring me right now please answer

Alexander: Thomas, is everything okay?

Alexander: thomas im begging you please answer me

Alexander: THOMAS!

Thomas: We cannoli do so much.

Alexander: His legacy will truly become a pizza history forever.

Thomas: So sad that he just ran out of thyme.

Alexander: We should send olive our prayers to his family.

Thomas: You never sausage a tragic thing.

Alexander: you are my favorite person in existence

Thomas: Well I do try

Alexander: I'm heading out to the roof, meet ya there?

Thomas: Warning you, I'm a hot mess right now.

Alexander: I agree youre a HOT mess ;)

Thomas: booooooooo

Alexander: hehe

Alexander: Well, I'm a hot mess 24/7 so I can put up with it.

Thomas: Alright, be up there in a couple of minutes.

~•~

James can't take away the stars.