Thomas's POV:

The cookies are in the oven when it starts raining. I see Alexander jump a little but he looks ok. I check on the cookies then walk over and sling my arm around him. He jumps again then relaxes, leaning into my embrace. "When you have one of these cookies you're going to change your mind about Chips Ahoy entirely," I say.

He scoffs. "Yeah right."

It's raining harder now and I can see he's on edge, so I try to keep up the small talk. "I'm telling you!" I insist. "I'm always right."

He laughs, saying, "No you're not, but I'm never wrong."

"You were wrong about me," I point out, smirking. "You hated me!" His face goes deadpan as he realizes I'm correct. I laugh quietly. "Told you I'm always right!"

The rain is pounding on the roof, the noise reverberating throughout the room. Alexander is tensed up next to me, expecting it to storm. He rolls his eyes, but his face looks more vulnerable than usual.

I give his shoulders a little squeeze. "Come on, you know I'm right..."

He sighs. "Whatever, Thomas..." he grumbles, smiling a little.

"What did I say about calling... me..." I trail off, looking at him in shock. He hasn't called me by my first name since... ever. "Wait a second did you just say Thomas?" He nods and I smile. "Fucking finally!" I cheer, turning to plant a kiss on his lips.

Alexander glares at me half-heartedly. I smirk back, wiggling my eyebrows. He just shakes his head, standing on his tip-toes to kiss my nose. Adorable. I hear a faint rumble in the distance and feel him flinch. I think it was thunder. I pull him closer to me, keeping my arm tightly around him. Alexander leans towards me, screwing his eyes shut when lightning flashes in through the window.

I glance at the timer for the cookies. I've got time. I lead Alexander into the living room and help him get settled on the couch. I turn on the tv and try to pick a movie to watch that will be calming. Beauty and the Beast? Storm scene. The Little Mermaid? Storm scene. Tinker Bell? Probably safe. I turn on the movie and kiss his cheek. "I'll be back in just a couple minutes with cookies, asshole." I'm hoping the living room and the kitchen aren't too far apart.

I feel a slight ache in my chest on the far side of the kitchen, but the kitchen isn't large so I'm ok. I hope Alexander doesn't mind. I grab an oven mitt and take the cookies out of the oven, transferring them from the cookie sheet to a cooling rack. I grab a plate and check the cookies for which ones are cool enough to eat. While I'm doing this, I hear a thump from the living room. I'm about to call out and ask Alexander if he's ok when the pain hits.

It feels like a wildfire ignited in my chest. I run for the living room, the pain constantly increasing until I can barely think. It hurts. It hurts so fucking much. Alexander's not in here, the couch is empty. He... left. The pain is still multiplying, and my vision is getting blurry. He's not hiding, he's running. Why? Why would he do this? I thought he wanted to be with me... I thought he cared about me. I have to find him... I have to find out what's going on. If he still wants to kill us both... so be it.

The living room is connected to the kitchen, the office, and the spare bedroom. I run into the office because I know he didn't go through the office and the spare bedroom is a dead end. The burning agony in my chest is starting to fade, so I must be catching up to him. I burst into the hallway, looking around. If he went for the balcony and jumps... we're both dead before he hits the ground. However, there's a knocked over table down the hall heading towards the hot tub... so I think it's a safe bet he went that way.

I'm running down the hall when the fire in my chest starts to go out in bursts. He stopped running. Why? Did he suddenly get cold feet about killing us both? Did the pain get too unbearable? "Why the hell are you trying to kill me, Hamilton?" I demand, coming around the corner. He's curled up against a wall, looking at me with a mixture of fear and relief. So he's glad the person he just tried to kill is here?

He doesn't answer me so I bend down and grab his arm, pulling him to his feet. He's nearly limp, barely standing without assistance, letting me guide him without complaint. That's new. "Come on," I instruct, tugging his arm in the direction we came from. "We're going back to the living room."

Alexander shakes his head. If he tries to make another run for it without at least giving me an explanation, I might cry. I am not having my corpse found with tears on its cheeks. "Don't- don't make me go back... there's a storm... in the living room... I heard... I heard it on the tv... there's a storm in there..."

The explanation hits me like a steel-toe boot up my ass. I was so quick to assume the worst... I probably scared him even more by getting angry at him. The movie must have played a preview that involved a storm. Alexander heard it/saw it and panicked, thinking he was caught in another hurricane. He took the first exit he saw and ran, trying to get away from the storm... not me. I really feel like an ass.

I take his hand, trying to make eye contact but he won't look at me. "That wasn't real," I assure him, lifting up his chin so he has to meet my eyes. "It was just a preview that I didn't expect to be there. I'm..." I pause, forcing myself to choke out the word, "sorry." I take a quick breath. "You know, for getting mad and everything. I just- I thought- it looked like- I thought you were going to- trying to-" I stop, pulling myself together. I am not going to break down sobbing. "I thought you were going to leave me," I spit out, trying to fit some of the original sentiment into the words.

He looks down, squeezing my hand. "I wasn't," he says. I almost expect him to leave it at that when he continues. "I was just waiting for you, trying to block out the storm, when all of a sudden there was another storm and it was inside this time and I had to get away because it sounded like the hurricane. I... my mind tricked me into thinking that my chest hurt because I was drowning... it felt like water filling my lungs and I was choking but I wasn't and I was confused and disoriented and trying to get away when it suddenly hit me that I didn't hear the storm anymore and the adrenaline was gone and it hurt so much I couldn't keep running and then you found me and you were angry and~"

I cut him off. "I wasn't angry," I say, wrapping my arm around him. We start to walk back towards the living room area. "I'm above such emotions."

Alexander scoffs quietly. "Liar," he states, shaking his head. "You were scared. You thought I was going to kill you."

"Wrong again," I tell him. "Well, partially right..." I pause. "But I was more scared that you were going to kill yourself."

"We're fused, it's the same thing," he teases, trying to get me to admit what I'm really trying to say.

"You know what I mean," I mutter. We reach the living room and I turn off the tv, even though it's just Tinker Bell now. I drop onto the couch, swinging my legs up and pulling Alexander onto my lap. He settles between my legs and I rest my chin on his shoulder, mumbling into his ear. "Don't run away again... please."