//TW: swearing, small mentions of depression and self-harm\\

Thomas

Alexander held my hand firmly. If there's one thing I've learned so far, it's that he liked to touch other people. He liked to cling to them, to hold on tightly so that they could never slip away from him and disappear. I wonder if that was something he was used to, losing people. I hoped I would never have to find out.

He dragged me through the unfamiliar hallways of a building I had never so much as stepped foot in before, though he seemed to know it almost as well as he knew our own. But I trusted him enough to let him lead the way without complaint, only mildly panicking as I tried to plan everything I would have to do and say to people who deserved far better than me.

We stopped outside a door, but before Alexander could run forwards and throw it open, I tugged on the sleeve of his sweater, needing just a moment to collect myself. Immediately, he stopped and turned to me, as if prepared to give me all the time in the world.

"Are you sure they wouldn't mind if I joined you guys?" I mumbled, eyes tracing the intricate designs of the old carpeting. Heat flushed my cheeks, my thundering heart suddenly wishing I could be anywhere but standing here, facing a million unknowns I wasn't prepared for. "If you want to go ahead without me, that's fine. I can go home."

When had I started referring to the apartment I shared with Alexander as my home?

"Hey," he said softly but with that infallible teasing tone that never failed to coax a smile out of me, "I think they want you there more than they want me."

"Don't say that."

"It's true! Come on. Please?"

I let go of his hand, inching away from him. It wasn't too late to escape before the walls closed in on me and left me with nowhere to go. It wasn't too late to form some half-baked excuse that prevented them from having to put up with me for an hour or so.

Isn't that what got you into this mess? Isn't your cowardice the exact same thing that turned two of them against you?

Smoothing my shaking hands against my sweater, I nodded. "Okay, yeah. Sorry."

"I'll stay with you, if you want," Alexander offered as he opened the door without even knocking. How comfortable he must have been with them. I wish I had something like that.

"No, no, it's okay," I said, forcing my mouth into a smile. "I've kept you away from your friends too much already." We entered silently, nobody noticing our presence at first.

"That's not—" he began, but he couldn't get the rest of the words out as a yell of excitement tore through the air, sudden and loud enough to make me recoil and step backwards.

"Alexander!" John called from where he was sitting on the couch next to Hercules and Lafayette. The latter of the two stood up immediately as I entered, and though his smile was warm, there was a determined, fixated look in his eyes that peeled me apart and reduced me to nothing. Lafayette crossed over to where I stood, and in those slow heartbeats, I truly considered acting on my gut impulse and murmuring some excuse before escaping. The room was too small and there were already so many people in it and they were all looking at me and judging me and they would notice if I disappeared but would they really care or would they feel relieved?

But Alexander pressed his hand softly against the small of my back, keeping me grounded to a reality I had no place in. I took a deep breath of the air that smelled like pine trees and cinnamon and a whole lot of feelings from a childhood I had to abandon prematurely. And I forced myself to relax before anybody could notice that there was something wrong.

"Hey," Lafayette said as softly as he could, offering me some old, familiar smile that put me at ease in the simplest of ways. "Happy Christmas!"

"It's merry, actually. You fucking Europeans," Alexander corrected smugly, to which he earned a glare and a not-so-nice hand gesture.

"Yeah," I said with a small forced laugh, inwardly hating myself for being so stupid when it came to other human beings, especially the people who were my friends. I was supposed to understand them, but instead, they were a whole other species that shouldn't have to put up with something like me. They were a riddle, a puzzle, and I was no good at puzzles. "You too!"

"How are you doing? And don't you dare start with the good—"

"I'm better," I said, and only when the words left my mouth did I realize they were the truth. Sure, it wasn't what anybody wanted. But it was true. And it was freeing, being able to say those two simple words. I didn't have to be good. I just had to be better. "I'm better, I promise."

"Can I see your arms?" he asked, holding his hand out expectantly, never satisfied. "Please?"

"Oh, umm," I stammered, the air freshly knocked out of my lungs. I clutched the straps of my bag closer, wishing I could melt away.

I took a step backwards, running into Alexander's hand. The room got smaller, somehow, and was the hushed talking between Eliza, Maria, and Aaron about me or something else? Words spun to life on the tip of my tongue, but the second they took one step into the world, the cold, icy air froze them, and they withered and died and their corpses left nothing but a gaping hole. And Lafayette stood there, waiting for an answer, and I had nothing to give him. Nothing to offer. And his eyes bore into mine, waiting, and it didn't matter how I clutched at my arms to protect me.

Please please please just move on.

And Alexander, just as he always did, came to my rescue, soft and gentle but firm and unmoving. His mere touch released a burst of warmth, not like a firework but like stepping closer to a fireplace, dwelling in the heat that washed over the room and unable to remember what it felt like to be cold. "It's okay, Laf. I've already checked this morning."

I let out a breath as Lafayette redirected his attention to Alexander, returning my hands to my side. "Yes, but I still want to make sure. It's not that I don't trust you. I just...have to be sure for myself, yes?"

And then I saw it.

Her.

I gasped as the world halted around me, the cruel, unchangeable, unforgivable parts of it falling away as something beautiful, something indescribably pure uncovered itself from its hiding spot. Like a bright burst of light for a person who had never known it. There she was, a beacon of hope and a symbol of love, beckoning me closer, eager to give and give and expect nothing in return.

"What! What is it?" Alexander demanded, his hand wrapping itself firmly around my arm, pulling me a step closer to him. It was almost as if he was going to protect me from whatever monster dared to rear its ugly face. His touch alone sent my heart jolting into my throat, and I wondered how I ever managed to live without it. But that was my secondary concern, as the most gorgeous thing alive stepped into the sunlight warily, head down and tail flicking cautiously.

"Cat!" I exclaimed, pointing with excitement as the small creature carefully picked its way over to us. "It's a cat!"

"Yes. That is a cat," said Angelica, matter-of-factly, earning herself a nudge in the shoulder by her youngest sister.

"Oh, God, they're lovely!" I fell to my knees as the cat, thin but gorgeous, brushed up against my leg.

"Her name is Holly," Laf informed as he sat down next to me, running his hand across the creature's back.

"Can I pet her?"

He laughed lightly, nodding his approval with a vigorous grin.

I held out my hand, and Holly pushed her head against it demandingly. Unable to control a smile, I began to pet her as softly as I could, scratching behind her ear. I was only vaguely aware of Alexander sitting down next to me, inches away.

"Oh! Can she have a treat?"

"Uhh, yeah? I guess?" John answered, suddenly in front of us. He cast Alexander a long, strange look that I pretended not to notice simply because it was easier to let it go.

I dug through my bag until I found what I was looking for, a plastic bag pressed into the bottom, forgotten in the haze of everything that had happened. I opened it and fished out one of the treats, proffering it for the delicate animal. The cat accepted my treat after sniffing it carefully, her sand-paper like tongue dancing across my skin.

"Wait, do you actually carry cat treats with you everywhere?" Maria asked, and I didn't have to look up at her to know she was crossing her arms.

"Yeah," I said, chuckling a little. "Umm, there were a lot of strays outside our dormitories, and I always felt terrible for them, because they were starving, you know? But James wouldn't let me bring one home, so I just...I kinda fed them behind his back." I scratched the kitten's forehead gently, unsure if the admission was a freedom or a burden. The more I talked about James, the lighter the weight pressing down on my chest became, as if sharing with everyone else made the load just a bit more bearable for me.

It was selfish, but it helped me breathe again.

"I didn't know you liked cats so much," Alexander said quietly.

"Alex, he loves cats," Aaron said. "There are days where I swear he likes them more than people."

"Well, I—umm. Cats are quiet. And they're usually nice to me. Not that you guys aren't nice! But...well, cats."

Alexander snorted, casting me a smile that felt like it was meant for me and only me. He placed his hand on my shoulder, and I swear it was unlike anything I had ever felt before. It was soft and sweet, an unspoken promise combined with a pure, happy moment that belonged to us. I liked it when he touched me, a reminder that I was here. Not millions of miles underground, underwater, lost floating in some unrelenting darkness.

But John stole it all away in seconds.

Not that I blamed him, or was mad at him, or hated him for it. He had every right to reclaim the moments I had stolen from him. I just wish it could have been different.

"Hey, come on!" he said, grabbing Alexander by the arm and pulling him away. "If I don't kick your ass at Mario Kart today, I'm going to lose my shit."

"Oh, yeah?" Alexander retorted with a sly grin. "God, I'm going to have so much fun sweeping the floor with your pathetic ass." And then, as if realizing what he had said and everything it meant, he turned to me and frowned. "Uh, sorry. You didn't hear that."

I shrugged, turning my attention back to the cat.

"I can stay with you Thomas, if you—"

"Oh, come on," John said, rolling his eyes. "Thomas is an adult, Alexander. He doesn't need you doting on him every five seconds."

Alexander ignored him, waiting for me to speak, but anything I could have said died on my lips. How could I possibly ask him to stay here with me? What right did I have to tear him away from his friends for any longer than I already had?

"Go. Have fun. And I'll be cheering for you, alright?"

"Hey!" John said, mock-pouting. "What about me?"

"And me!" said Lafayette, shaking his head as if personally offended by what I had said. "I need all the help I can get."

Oh. So he was leaving me too.

Alexander grinned, but his touch disappeared, and I forced myself to stay still and not ruin this for him. "Thanks, Thomas. I'll be right over here if you need me, okay?" And he ran off, followed by John and Laf.

And I was alone.

I picked up Holly and found a relatively secluded spot in the corner, setting her down in my lap as I fell to the ground. I tapped my fingers against the wooden floor, not entirely pleased with the noise they produced but it was the only sense of music I actually had, so it would have to do. And I sat there by myself for what felt like hours but what must have been, like, two minutes, wondering how long I had to stay until it was socially acceptable to go home.

The only thing I actually got to amuse myself was watching Alexander have fun. Real fun, with his real friends. I smiled to myself, running my fingers through Holly's fur. I liked it when Alexander was happy. It made the world seem like a nicer, cleaner place.

I wish I could make him happy the way his real friends made him happy.

I stared down at the floor until my vision blurred, trying to force the tears back down. I really needed to stop ruining things with such a pointless thing like tears.

And so it became a dance. Check my phone for thirty seconds, scrolling mindlessly through whatever social media was most entertaining. Look up at Alexander and his friends for thirty seconds, watch him laugh and smile and do all the things he couldn't when he was around me. Then back to my phone.

Get through an hour.

That's all I had to do.

How long had it been?

About five minutes.

This was never going to end.

Music drifted through my mind like a lost wanderer, though fleeting and distant. I tried to grasp onto it, tried to bring it to life, but it floated away from reach and left me even emptier than I already was without Alexander's familiar, comforting touch that had become the only constant in the whirlwind that was my life. Like sunshine in a storm. Like moonlight in the darkness. Like an oasis in an empty desert.

I could already hear criticisms in my mind, criticisms nobody penned but me. Criticisms I etched over and over again until they stuck, until they became a part of who I was.

You're too dependent on him.

He doesn't need you the same way you need him.

Stop being so selfish.

I twisted my hands together, forcing my eyes shut, wishing this terrible day would just end before I—

"Hey!"

My eyes blinked open to see a familiar figure towering over me, his posture soft but unnatural still, as though he was forcing himself to stay still. I managed a small smile. "Uh, hi." My voice felt small.

I was so sick and tired of feeling small.

"Here," he said, handing me something cold and slightly wet. My eyes darted to the labeling of the aluminum can, my face warming as I read the label.

"Oh. Thank you," I said, trying not to smile at my utter predictability. "But seriously, I'm okay."

"Oh, whatever," he said, rolling his eyes and thrusting the can of Dr Pepper into my hands. "Take it."

"It's just too much sugar. You know what happens to me when I drink too much of it."

"Oh, yeah! You might actually enjoy yourself!" he returned in the most dramatic voice ever that was far too effective at eliciting a half-muffled laugh from my mouth. Shaking my head, I accepted the drink and set it at my side.

"Mind if I sit?" Aaron asked, nodding to the empty space next to me.

"Not at all," I said, scooting over just a little bit to give him more room that I had so needlessly taken up. It was, somehow, not as hard as it should have been to make myself smaller.

Aaron sat down next to me. "You were totally Michael-in-the-Bathroom-ing it and I wanted to make sure you were alright," he explained, though he didn't need to.

"Oh. Umm, mind if I ask what that means?"

"Michael in the Bathroom." He paused, as though a new-found consideration washed over him. "Please tell me you've listened to Be More Chill."

"Oh. That's one of the newer musicals right?"

Aaron groaned, shaking his head. "You haven't listened to Be More Chill. That is a problem that we have to set right."

"Sorry," I said with a small smile, gazing down at the floor. "I've wanted to, but...I just haven't had the chance."

"No matter. You and I. We'll listen to it tomorrow." Aaron waved the thought away, and a silence fell over the two of us. An uncomfortable, pressing silence that left me completely useless because I didn't know what to say and it had been so long since I had friends I could talk to and I didn't want to screw everything up more than I already had. I wasn't good at these kinds of things, in case you couldn't tell.

"Thomas..." Aaron began slowly, his voice completely devoid of an emotion so persistent in his eyes. "I, umm, I don't actually know where to begin."

"Yeah," I said, nodding, knowing exactly what he meant. "Don't worry about it."

"No, Thomas, I can't just forget about the things I said. That wasn't fair. I was awful to you. I didn't...I just...it wasn't right, but I...fuck." So many fragments with the same meaning. The same completely inexpressible feeling. There was no emotion more overbearing than guilt and the built-in desire for justice, the need to make it right. But apologies were the hardest thing in the world to express, especially when you meant them with every fiber in your being. Easy to fake but so, drastically difficult to utter when you meant every last word.

"Thomas, I'm so sorry."

"Aaron—"

"No, I am! And you have every right to be mad at me and Lafayette. The things we said and did are inexcusable. We were awful. I was awful!"

"I'm not mad," I tried my best to reassure him, but it fell so flat.

"You should be mad! You should be fucking furious! There is not a single person alive who has any right to mad more than you do. You should hate me. You should hate every damn one of us!"

"I'm not mad," I repeated, running my hand across Holly's back.

"Why not?"

"Because I just want to forget," I said quietly, hardly trusting my voice not to break. "They always tell you how hard it is to forgive but completely neglect to mention how hard it is to forget." I glanced up at him and offered him the warmest smile I could. "But I'm not mad at you, Aaron. You did what anybody would do. Like I told Lafayette, I can't fault you for being human. And, honestly, I'm just glad to have you back." I paused, too eager to shift the focus. To take myself out of the spotlight for just once. "You've been taking your antidepressants, right?"

Aaron was quiet for a moment. Too long of a moment. And that revealed more than his answer did. Slowly, he dropped his head and fixed his gaze firmly on the ground. "They make me really angry at everything. And I didn't want to hurt you again."

"Aaron," I said gently, nudging him. "You have to keep taking them, okay? They've been working, right?"

He nodded.

"Good. I don't know what I'd do if something happened to you."

Aaron softened, and another long silence swept over us. "I guess I have to hug you now?"

"Not if you don't want to," I said lightly, knowing just how much physical contact bugged him. He relaxed and let out a breath, drawing his knees close to his chest.

I glanced back over at Alexander briefly, just to calm myself with the sight of his smile.

"You know you can go hang out with Alexander, if you want. He's not going to mind." When I glanced up questioningly at him, he shrugged and continued with, "I've been watching the way you look at him."

"I bother him too much already. I don't want to become one of those people who just leeches up all happiness and joy or whatever. He deserves to have fun with his friends."

"Thomas, he's not going to mind! He likes hanging out with you."

"No. I take too much as it is. Alexander already has so much to worry about! And I'm not going to be a selfish whor—" I caught myself seconds before the word could complete itself. I frowned, the last note lingering on the air, and looked away.

Aaron touched me softly. "You're not a selfish whore, Thomas."

I nodded, forced my hands to stop shaking, and managed out, "So, tell me about this Be More Chill thing." And it wasn't long before Aaron was rambling on about the newest musicals he had been listening to and the hidden metaphors behind every little song and how important they were to him. I smiled, watching him speak, glad that I just had that again.

"I've heard of that other one. Dear Evan Hansen," I offered.

"Oh I fucking love Dear Evan Hansen!" Aaron exclaimed, gripping my arm tightly. "It's so good! And when I become a big broadway star, I'm going to be Zoe!" He said it was such a fast, hard determination that it was so hard to believe anything else.

"Zoe?" I repeated. "Why Zoe? Isn't she the love interest? Why do you—"

"Yeah. I wanna kiss Ben Platt. Duh."

I placed my hand on his shoulder and spoke as seriously as I could. "Aaron, I love how comfortable you are in your sexuality and masculinity more than anything else in the world. And you know how much I hate perpetuating stereotypes, because they're harmful and dangerous, and you should be able to enjoy things like musical theatre without being labeled as something you're not."

"But?" he asked, grinning and tilting his head.

"You make comments like that, and you honestly expect me to believe you're one hundred percent straight?"

"Okay, look," he said, rolling his eyes over-dramatically, and I could never fully appreciate the lengths he went through just to make me smile. I really forgot how much I loved talking to him. "I'm straight. Always have been. Always will be. But, like, there are certain...actors. And if they just suddenly materialized in my room at 3 p.m. without warning? I'm not going to like, turn them down, you know?"

I shook my head, hand covering my mouth to hide my smile. "I bet I know who it is, too. Besides Ben Platt."

"Yeah? Who?"

"Oh, wait." I frowned, glancing up at the ceiling as though the answer would pop out of nowhere. "Wait, what's his name? I know it! I know it, I swear I do! He was the, umm, the easter bunny. From Rise of the Guardians."

Aaron frowned, took a second, then frowned some more. "Hugh Jackman?"

"Yes! That's his name!"

"That's how you know Hugh Jackman? The fucking easter bunny? Not, oh, I don't know, Wolverine? Not the Greatest Showman? He was in fucking Les Mis, Thomas! Easter bunny from Rise of the Guardians, I swear."

I laughed. "Oh, give me a break. I've never seen Les Mis."

"You've never seen Les Mis?! THOMAS! Tell me you've at least listened to the soundtrack."

I shook my head.

"Thomas! Seriously? You would love Les Mis! It's about the French Revolution! You love France! You love revolutions! You love being miserable! It was made for you!"

"Look, I tried reading the book, and it was long and convoluted—"

"Eddie Redmayne's in it," Aaron singsonged, nudging me with his shoulder suggestively.

I sucked in a deep breath of air, face prematurely warming just at the thought of him. I didn't usually have celebrity crushes, but God. "Oh, you know how much I love Eddie Redmayne."

"Yes. I do."

I sighed, giving in to him. But I would have yielded either way, simply if it meant getting to spend more time with my friend. "Okay, I'll watch it with you."

"Perfect! I'll plan an itinerary for tomorrow and—"

"Tomorrow?"

He paused, glancing up at me. For the first time, his smile faltered. "Yeah. Does that work for you, or...?"

"Well, I don't know. I was kinda planning to go to the library tomorrow, but if you'd rather watch all these musicals, then that's fine! I'm happy to do whatever!"

"Tell you what," he said, smiling warmly, offering me something I hadn't had in so long that I had completely forgotten how good it felt to hold. "I'll go to the library with you and watch you freak out over books for two and a half hours, then you come back to my apartment with me and we watch Les Mis."

"And Be More Chill?"

"Fuck, we'll throw in Firebringer while we're at it!"

I beamed, something warm and light blossoming in my chest. It was like basking in the sweet afternoon sunlight, taking it all in and never having to relinquish it. "Perfect! It's a date."

"A date, huh? Oh, Thomas. Is that why you were so concerned about my sexuality?" He gasped, far too loudly, but for once I didn't really care if anybody was watching us.

"Oh, my God." I rolled my eyes, opening the can of Dr Pepper sitting previously ignored and taking a long drink, if only to quell the warmth in my face.

"Do you have feelings for me?"

"I'm not—no!" And I couldn't hold it anymore. Before I even knew what was happening, I was laughing. Laughing like I had never laughed before, laughing simply because it was the most natural thing in the world, and I had somehow managed to abandon it. And I forgot how wonderful it is to just laugh. To lower every boundary, every wall, and give in to the most wonderful of feelings.

"I can't believe you like me! I mean, it's kinda embarrassing for you. You're cute and all, but, look—you're not really my type."

"I don't have to entertain this," I said, scratching Holly lightly behind the ear as if to convince her to stay with me. She settled back down, kneading the cloth of my sweater with her delicate claws. Everything about her was perfect, the most wondrous thing in the world. "God, I love you."

Aaron was quiet for a long moment. He was never somebody for genuine feelings, and I couldn't blame him for that. Feelings are messy. They're a risk. They've always been something to avoid at all costs lest somebody see how weak you truly are. But when he spoke, he let nothing bar the tidal wave of sincerity echoing through his voice. "Thanks, Thomas. I love you too." A long pause, a slow, annoying realization. "You were talking to the cat, weren't you?"

"Yeah..."

"Jesus fucking Christ," he said, making to get up, but I wrapped my hand around his wrist and pulled him back down, because I was a selfish being by nature and I had no intention of letting go of one of the closest friends I've ever had.

"Oh! I never got to tell you but I thought you were wonderful in Fiddler on the Roof!"

Aaron was silent for a long moment. "You went to see me?"

"Of course! I got a video, if you need proof or whatever."

"No, I believe you, Thomas. That's amazing, I thought—wait, you got a video?"

"Yeah?"

"You were filming. While the thing was going on."

"It's like five seconds long, but yeah."

"And you don't see a problem with it."

"No of course—oh. Oh, God! I'm a criminal now!"

Aaron's laughter eventually tapered off, then he turned to me with the most serious expression on his face and asked, "Wait do you honestly think I have a crush on Hugh Jackman?"

We continued talking and just generally goofing around like we used to be able to so long ago. We spent the rest of the two hours together, and Aaron somehow even managed to convince me to have a slice of cake, which I reluctantly conceded to after he pointed out that I had already finished the can of Dr Pepper without even realizing it, explaining with a smug smile that I always drank something when I was embarrassed.

Honestly, I was just glad to have my friends back. After so long without them, I thought I was going to die and the world wouldn't even blink. I thought I would be buried in a hole dug from loneliness and isolation, a hole I had dug all by myself. But with Aaron right there, making me laugh no matter what he had to do to do it, something inside of me flickered to life. And I felt seen, and I felt heard.

It also, of course, didn't escape my notice that Alexander would every once in a while look up at the two of us and smile, the sunshine in his eyes directed only at me.

~•~

Alexander grinned up at me as he threw open the door to our apartment and ushered me through the doorway. "So, you and Aaron were having a lot of fun, huh?"

"I..." I spluttered, trying to pluck an answer out of the thick air, but any excuses seemed to dance just out of reach, and my mouth betrayed me. "I'm sorry. I don't...well, I can—"

"Hey!" Alexander exclaimed, stepping over to the couch and plopping down. He didn't exactly drag me along, but he had always been one of those people that was impossible to not follow. Wherever he went, he brought the light along with him, and if you wanted to stay in its warm, beautiful rays, the only thing you could do was follow him. "No, I liked it! I got to hear you laugh, Thomas! You have such a nice laugh."

My breath caught in my throat with the way he said it. Like that was he single most important thing in the world. Like nothing else mattered but my laugh. Butterflies swirled to life, dancing in my stomach and tickling the back of my throat. They rendered me speechless, leaving my only option dropping my gaze to the floor and murmuring a soft "thanks" before I said anything stupid and unreasonable.

We were quiet for the next few moments, but it wasn't an uncomfortable quiet, you know? It was that kind of quiet you could relish in, because you both knew that words were too simple to express the complexities of emotions and so it was just better to revel in the quiet.

And then, I let out a gasp of surprise. "Oh! I almost forgot!"

Alexander sat up, his brow furrowing. "Something wrong?"

"No, uh, just stay here." Without further explanation, I shot to my feet and hurried over to my room, where a gift-bag lay hidden underneath the overwhelmingly large folds of my sweater. It wasn't as heavy as it should have been, but there was nothing I could do about that now. I returned to Alexander, clutching the gift-bag tightly as if it would disappear, along with the rest of this beautiful, surreal world he had created for me, and handed it to him quite awkwardly.

"Sorry," I said after a moment. "I know you don't really like gifts because you think you're in debt to me now or whatever. At least, that's what Hercules said." I paused, wincing at my own incoherent mumbling. "But, uh, this is nothing compared to everything you've given me. Nothing will ever be good enough, big enough, to repay what you've done in the span or these few, short days, but I really want you to know that I..." I took a deep breath, as if that would sufficiently quell the incessant workings of the tears. "I really appreciate everything you've done."

Alexander accepted the gift quietly, his eyes wide with a surprise that ignited something inside of me. Slowly, he discarded the tissue paper, and I had to press my hands firmly against the couch in order to keep them from shaking. Each breath I took felt like inhaling both smoke and the sweetest, softest breeze. Unnerving yet relaxing in some twisted, mocking way I'd never be able to understand.

Alexander smiled as he peered into the bag and grabbed the first of the small gifts. "How'd you know I like dark chocolate?"

I smiled, embarrassment worming its way onto my face. I just prayed he couldn't see it. "Remember back in high school and we had that debate over whether dark chocolate was better than milk chocolate?"

Alexander laughed, and the built-up tension on my stomach dissolved as the sweet sound poured over my ears. "Oh, God. I do. And if I remember correctly, you called dark chocolate the candy for masochists and people who hate themselves!"

I nodded sheepishly, allowing a smile like something sweet I could let myself indulge in, no matter how much the guilt bit up my insides. Alexander rifled through the bag some more, grinning with everything he pulled out. Pens. Journals. Nothing much, and it hurt to not be able to give him something truly meaningful, but he seemed to really appreciate the things I managed to give him.

"Oh, Thomas," he breathed when he came across the final thing, perhaps the most important. His hand grabbed for mine, as if he needed somebody to keep him upright, and pulled out the last thing. A tiny flag made to sit on a desk, marked by three stripes of blue, purple, pink. He laughed, and I hardly even realized what was happening when he flung his arms around my body and pulled me close.

I should not have completely melted into his embrace the way I did.

He slid back a short few seconds later, his smile unmatchable. "God, Thomas. I mean... I can't even—oh! I got something for you to!"

"Alexander, you didn't have to—"

"No, hold on. I'll go get it."

I watched him disappear into his room, folding my hands into my lap and my legs underneath my body. A soft tune wormed its way to my mind, though I didn't dare bring it to life. I stared out the window, at the world swirling by below us. The streets were still packed, but the atmosphere seemed cozy, welcoming. I blinked, watching the people, wondering how their lives were taking shape today, when Alexander appeared at my side a second later.

I smiled upon seeing him, but the second my eyes fell to what he was holding, a pang of horror, admiration, dread, and joy all mixed into one deadly Molotov cocktail exploded in my chest.

"Oh, Alexander."

He set the case down on the couch, pushing it towards me. I watched him for a long moment, his smile never dying as he sat down across from me and nodded his head towards it.

I brushed my fingers against the coarse, black texturing of the case, my heartbeat frantic and every single one of my thoughts completely incongruent with one another. Part of me desperately hoped it was what I thought it was, that one brush of freedom I had left behind, while another completely separate part clung firmly to the belief that this could not be and Alexander would never do something like this for somebody like me.

"Well? Aren't you gonna open it?"

"Right, sorry," I said with a single, breathless laugh, hoping not to betray the uneven beating of my heart. My fingers drifted down to the clasps seemingly against my will, acutely aware of Alexander's agonizing gaze pouring over ever bit of my body. I sucked in a deep breath, undid the clasps, and opened the case.

My hands flew in front of my mouth to suppress a yelp.

"What's wrong?" Alexander asked after a very long moment of a crushing silence.

Silence and quiet are two very different things. Quiet is comfortable, because even if nobody's speaking, there's still other sounds. The life of the city around us. Gentle humming floating through the air. Even our breathing, mixing together. Quiet isn't ever truly lacking noise, it's just that the noise isn't the main focus.

But with silence, there is nothing. And the things you don't or can't say are everything. And the opportunities wasted and the chances missed are crippling, damaging, dangerous.

"Do you...do you not like it?"

"I love it," I mumbled, and the tears I had tried so hard to undermine came bubbling back to the surface. "Oh, God, Alexander. It's amazing. But I cannot accept this from you. It's too much. It's far too much, I—"

"Thomas," he said softly, placing his hand against my arm and letting me revel in the warmth and comfort his touch never failed to bring. "I want you to have it."

"It's too good for me." Every syllable was a struggle to get out, a battle that I somehow maneuvered through. "Please. I can't, I just...I can't."

Alexander took my hands in his and brought them down to the instrument laying there. I could already hear its delicious, enrapturing song calling out to me from a paradise unknown. "I want you to have it," he repeated firmly. "I want you to be happy. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you don't owe me anything. And this is something I wanted to do for you."

Somehow, between my unsteady breathing and my shaking hands, I managed out a small laugh. "Thank you, Alexander. I'll never be able to repay you."

"You don't have to," he said lightly, his smile like the sun peering between storm clouds. "Go ahead. It's yours."

Gently, I slid the violin out of the case and ran my fingers across its smooth, gorgeous wood. As far as violins go, it wasn't perfect. It wasn't new. It wasn't elegant. It wasn't the most beautiful craftsmanship ever. It was worn and marked by years of use, something he had most likely gotten second-hand. The strings were new but the instrument itself was old.

And that's why it was perhaps the most wonderful thing I've ever seen.

I smiled as I thought of all the songs the delicate violin had played, all the stories it had told without words. All the people it had played for and all the lives it had changed simply by carrying out its mere purpose. I could envision gentle white lights hanging above an old stage as the performer drew the bow across the strings with absolute passion and love, crafting something timeless, expressionless. And I could see this all just by holding the gorgeous instrument close to me.

"Can you play something?" Alexander requested, his eyes full of such a child-like hope that it seemed impossible to refuse, even if I had wanted to. The truth was, I wanted nothing else more in the world than to create something as precious as a song.

"Well," I said as I tuned the instrument, listening to make sure the notes were as perfect as I needed them to be. "It's been so long since I've played, so I might be a little rusty, so..."

"Listen," Alexander said, leaning forward with the most wonderful smile. "I don't know shit about music. I'm sure whatever you play will be beautiful, Thomas."

Alexander had given me something more wonderful than anything else in the world. He had given me the gift of freedom.

I picked one of the songs I knew by heart, something sweet and gentle that encouraged hope and created life. There was too much sadness in the world, and the last thing I wanted was to add to it so soon. Freedom wasn't something to be mourned. Freedom was something to be celebrated, lauded, loved.

I let out a breath, closed my eyes, and drew the bow across the strings.

And a song sprung to life. A beautiful, senseless, unending song that told a thousand stories at once. It was something that was mine and mine alone, something that couldn't be stolen no matter how hard anybody else tried. I leaned into it, embraced it, held it like a child.

The violin and the timeless melody returned me my wings, and for the first time since falling viciously four years ago, I flew through the wide open sky with nothing but a song and the knowledge that finally, after so long, I was free.

And Alexander gave it to me.

The song ended but it didn't at the same time, the last few notes ringing through my mind long after they had been plucked from the air. I opened my eyes to see a smiling Alexander, completely enraptured in something I had made.

"Thomas," he whispered, grinning. "That was beautiful."

~•~

Me the first time writing this chapter: 1500 words is a lot!! I hope I didn't make it too long or anything lol!!

Me the second time writing this chapter: okay if I cut out an entire chunk of conversation, these seventeen paragraphs, and summarize things that probably need more attention, I can keep this just barely under 7000 words!