thomas’s car is right there. right at the curb. and his keys are right there in his pocket, he can feel them. at least he’s pretty sure that’s his car. he can’t read the license plate from where he is. can’t quite tell what kind of car it is, either, but he’s almost positive it’s his. he’s almost sure that’s where he’d parked it.
why is he standing outside again?
oh, right. alex.
that’s also the reason why he’s not driving home at this very second as well. very specific instructions.
second night in a row, and he comes to the conclusion that he’d been wrong about how many drinks he’d had. it feels worse. he can barely even think straight this time, and he isn’t sure if he could form coherent sentences if he tried.
he stands under the blue glow of the sign hanging over the door, leaning back against the wall. he’d take a step forward so that alex could see him when he pulled up, but he’s not sure if he can walk straight.
away from the noise and crowds of the bar, this feeling isn’t fun or comforting anymore. not at all.
the same parking spot is open, alex notices, almost as if waiting for him. as if the whole world knew this was coming except him. keeping it secret, waiting for him to arrive and do this all over again. he pulls in, sliding off his seat and stepping into the street. just like yesterday.
and there he is, leaning against the wall. he walks over to him, not quite registering what's going on and yet understanding absolutely everything at the same time.
"hey, it's me again. my car's where it was before. i'm just going to drop you off and i guess i could walk back and drive your car to your apartment? or you can get it tomorrow morning." he shifts his weight on his feet. it doesn't feel like he's talking to thomas. just a tall stranger. a man leaning against a wall who he would normally avoid encountering.
thomas turns, eyes wide, breaking into a wide smile.
“alex.” again, his voice barely sounds like his own. even more so than last night. “you know, you are, like…the best person in my life right now.” his smile drops, as if attempting to shift to a more serious demeanor. “i mean it. you are the best person.” his words tumble from his mouth in a flood of barely distinguishable syllables. the smell of vodka clings to the air, strong on his breath.
his heart sinks, it kills him to see him like this. what's he going to do? obviously his bullshit care didn't do anything last night.
“glad you're happy to see me. c'mon it's really late, we gotta get you home.” his voice almost fatherly, or like an older brother. he doesn't feel comfortable speaking like this but he knows if he talks to him sincerely he'll break down crying. he's not too great at this whole see-the-person-you-love-hurt thing. even though he's the one who started it.
“home?”
it takes thomas a minute to connect the word to its meaning, and another minute to process a visual image of it. he glances back, through the propped-open door of the bar. somewhere inside, glasses clink together in a toast, followed by loud cheers. he furrows his brow in confusion, turning back to face alex. “but i’m fine here. it hurts less here.”
hurts. what hurts? why did he say that? he strains to remember, though he knows he came here to forget.
alex feels hollow, like a shell. empty, almost. “yes, home. you're not safe here and you can sleep at home. i'm only taking you home because you can't take yourself, and it's extremely late. i care about you and i don't want you hurting yourself. do you know how late it is?”
the tone of his voice disgusts him, like the sound of some over-protective mother. it's the only voice he can use to handle the situation, anything else would pass through thomas's brain like nothing.
he shakes his head and glances down at his shoes, squeezing his eyes shut and opening them back up again. “are you mad at me?” his voice is low, mumbled, barely audible over the muffled din from the bar behind them. he stuffs his hands in his pockets, and his fingers scrape against his car keys; how easy it would have been just to drive home.
“no, i'm not mad,” he sighs, “i just don't want you here. i'm sorry i'm acting so strict it's just—”
god, he wishes he could just start over, change what he said and how he said it. he can't help himself, he's confused and he's not sure how to control it.
“i don't want you to feel hurt. i know you are and that's why you're here. i just want you to be safe, and i know you'd rather be here than in your apartment, but i need you in your apartment so you don't get sick again, or hurt yourself trying to drive back. i'm not mad. i'm sorry i made you think i am.” words spilling out of his mouth almost too quickly, trying to sound less fake. more like himself, who he wants to be.
thomas looks back up, quiet for a moment, trying to process everything alex had just said. “okay.” his voice breaks, and he clears his throat, trying again. “okay. we’re going home.”
he dismisses the ache of trying to remember what it was he’d been so intent on forgetting. there’s no room for it in his flooded mind. his vision dips, swimming, and he sways slightly on his feet. reaching to hold one hand to his head, eyes shutting. “fuck.”
"it's okay, i'll walk you to my car. it's not far." he places his hand on thomas's arm. “when you get home we can get you water, okay?” he's starting to feel light headed, as if he's not actually there but completely disconnected from his body. the world seems to be spinning around them and he isn't sure why. he closes his eyes for a moment, shaking his head and opening them again. nerves.
he nods, reaching for the car door to lean against as they approach it. “okay.” something surfaces in his mind from the previous night— water, a glass of water, alex’s bathroom floor. he struggles to piece it together. “best person in my life,” he repeats mindlessly, the words barely registering in his head.
“here, watch your head.” alex opens the car door, allowing thomas to sit down on his own. he closes the door behind him, walking over to the other side of the car.
he begins to wonder if he's just dreaming. if he fell asleep on his couch and he's remembering pieces of last night. he sits down in the drivers seat, turning the key and pulling out of the parking spot. he turns onto the main street, turning left to get down to thomas's house.
thomas lets his head loll back against the seat, eyes falling closed, the motion of the car feeling much faster than it actually is. slowly, more memories find their way into his head— this car, the stairwell, alex’s front door. memories from last night.
he pauses, eyes opening. the stairwell, alex’s front door. that’s something else. that’s not just last night. he fights to remember, but every drunken ounce in his body screams at him not to, and he shakes his head slightly, frowning.
from the window he catches a glimpse of his apartment building— home— rapidly approaching, less rapidly as the car slows to a stop in front of it. the familiarity of it is welcoming, warm in a sense, and he instantly reaches to open the car door.
alex gets out of the car, walking over to the other side just in time for thomas to stumble out.
“alright, could i have your keys so i can open the door?” he asks quietly, holding onto thomas's side. slowly walking towards the front of his apartment building.
“wh- oh. keys. right.” thomas’s hands reach for his pockets; both at once, he’s forgotten which one he put his keys in. he finds them in his left pocket and fishes them out with slightly trembling hands, nearly dropping them before handing them to alex.
“thanks.” alex takes the keys and unlocks the door.
he brings him to his apartment, switching the keys between his fingers and unlocking the door.
“okay, i'll take you to your room and i'll get you some water. do you need anything else?” he looks up at thomas directly for the first time all night. his eyes are lost, dropped down as if he's been crying for hours.
thomas looks back at him, eyes meeting his, and almost breaks down right then and there. he shakes his head, toying with the hem of his shirt to keep his hands from shaking. “no, i just— i need to lay down.” his words slur together, the result of both exhaustion and drunkenness. his knees give way, buckling, and he grabs onto alex’s arm to steady himself. “god, fuck.”
“shit-” he pulls thomas close, wrapping his arms around him.
“can we walk to your room?” he asks softly, holding him up. he can't quite tell if thomas is able to move or not. “you're too big for me to carry, buddy-o,” he jokes, pushing him up. he knows now isn't really the time for jokes but he can't help but try and lighten the mood.
thomas laughs grimly, holding on to alex like a lifeline. “uh. yeah, that’s- probably best-“ he stammers, voice breaking off. his head aches, and his legs feel numb.
he takes a breath, afraid to attempt to walk. “wish you would. carry me. wish it was that easy.” another breath. every moment seems to take hours. “jesus, help— help me out here.”
“just try and use me as a human crutch until we get to your room, okay? it's right there.” he steps back, holding thomas tightly.
“right. yeah.” christ, had he forgotten the layout to his own apartment? he blinks, as if it could clear the blur from his vision. he clings onto alex, taking shaky steps towards his room, counting down the steps it would take him to get there. four, three, two, one, and he attempts to reach for the doorknob, turning it and weakly pushing the door open. as if proving something to himself. as if it helps at all.
the door swings open and there’s that strange twinge at the back of his mind, like he should be remembering something he’s not. he curses alcohol and everything about it.
they inches toward thomas’s bed every step cautious and after a hesitant moment alex lets go of him, letting him sit down.
"okay. you lay down and i’ll get you some water. give me a second."
he steps back out of thomas's room and into the nearby kitchen. he looks up at the cabinets, the feeling all too familiar. he goes through them, unsure of which one has the glasses. he finally finds them, and fills one with water. he brings it back to thomas's room, holding it up to his hands.
and in the three minutes it had taken for alex to come back, thomas remembered.
gradually, not all at once. he’d left the door slightly open behind him, he notices as he lays back- that’s something. slightly open like it was then (then, not when, he’s realized this is real, this happened). and then? then what?
he’d opened the door. carefully, quietly, and-
he remembers.
everything.
tries to tell himself everything’s okay now, he’s forgiven him, but his drunken mind is hearing none of it.
his heart plummets, stomach knotting itself over and over again. only vaguely aware of alex re-entering the room. he stares straight ahead of him, his face stone cold.
“you broke my heart.”
alex’s head goes cold, looking straight at thomas, bringing the glass back towards himself.
“i—”
he chokes, as if thomas drinking again wasn't enough of a reminder. his eyes dart down, trying to keep himself from crying.
he turns his head, if he was ever at a loss for words it was at this moment. tears begin to roll down his cheeks, his hands tremble, setting the glass down on the night stand.
“i should go.” he looks back at thomas. “i don't think you want me here,” he continues, glancing back at the door.
“just go.” it’s as if he’s talking to himself. voice barely above a murmur, his eyes glazed over. he can’t cry, but his chest aches as if he’s been punched; his throat’s tightened up, head going numb.
his mind is screaming at him— (but i forgave you! tell me why i forgave you! tell me what you said, every word, i need to hear it again—) but he says none of it. the air conditioner hums from the other room, the only exception to the silence that had fallen over them.
and finally he feels tears welling up in his eyes, quietly streaming down his reddened face.
“please.”
alex nods, his throat burning from trying not to sob. speechless. wanting to explain himself. to try and remind him of everything that's happened. he doesn't want to fight him, more than anything he wants him to be happy, but he knows that's not going to happen. god, just—
go, alexander. leave his apartment, go on.
he steps back, barely able to keep himself upright. nearly falling to his knees.
he turns, stumbling through thomas's bedroom door. his breath speeding up, turning the doorknob and stepping outside. the air is surprisingly cold. his whole body shaking, he pushes himself outside the building.
back inside thomas covers his mouth with one hand, sniffling, his breathing staggered and completely out of his control. sliding down against his headboard, shoulders heaving, every inch of him shaking uncontrollably. this whole night is his fault. his own damn fault he started drinking again, let it take over him, let the alcohol speak for him, put words into his mouth-
no. he’s fine. really.
he tells himself that. he tells himself he’ll explain all this to alex in the morning and hope to god everything’s okay.
he has this under control.
it’s not a problem.
the car door slams shut behind alex.
staring into space, he finally breaks down, sobs uncontrollably rattling his body. he hits his head down onto the steering wheel of his stupid fucking car— stupid fucking words and stupid fucking tears. he takes his phone out of his pocket and throws it down onto the floor of his car, kicking it to the passengers side. shut up alexander, that's all you had to do. shut your big fat fucking mouth. why can’t you can't do that? maybe it's because you're a fucking idiot.
he takes the keys from his pocket, his hands shaking as he starts the car and begins driving back to his apartment.
thomas considers reaching for his phone. calling alex, begging him to come back. the low hum of the air conditioner is no company, and he’s completely and utterly alone in every sense of the word.
(help me get through this. / of course.)
can he even stand to see him again tomorrow? three times now he’s had to deal with him drunk, and that’s three times more than thomas had ever intended. he’d meant to hide that part of himself. because maybe acting like it wasn’t there would make it go away.
he rolls over onto his side, numbness flooding his mind, tears staining his cheeks.
he was right. he’s crashing. dragging alexander with him. and there’s nothing he can do about it now except ride it out.
summers in los angeles are rarely known for being cold. but leaning weakly against a parking meter outside the bar he’d already forgotten the name of, thomas could swear he felt chills rushing through him every few seconds.
it’s one of the only things he could swear on. everything else around him is a hazy mess, a blur of lights and sounds and the faint, constant beat of the booming music from the bar behind him.
and the four or five shots too many aren’t exactly helping. his ears ring, his vision blurs, he’s sick to his stomach. hours or seconds could have passed since he’d texted alex, and he wouldn’t know any difference.
he shifts his weight, squeezing his eyes shut, and tries to focus on his breathing as he waits for alex. a trick he’d learned the last time things got bad.
he can’t even tell if it’s working.
outside, alex pulls in toward the curb, the quality of his parking not really on his mind at the moment.
he slides off of his car's seat, stepping onto the street and looking over toward the bar. the blue light nearly blinding as he quickly walks toward thomas.
"hey, it's me. you don't have to open your eyes if you can't, my car is right there." his voice is surprisingly calm considering the fact that his thoughts are a mess.
some light goes off in the back of thomas’s drowned-out mind at the sound of his voice; this is someone you know, thomas. someone you can trust, right? he turns, burying his face in alex’s shoulder, keeping his eyes shut tight. he tries to take a step off the curb and stumbles. his stomach drops, lurching.
“please help me.”
his voice is barely recognizable, words slurred, voice breaking.
"it's okay, i got you."
alex’s hands on thomas’s back, stepping towards his car. his legs feeling like weights being dragged, tripping over his feet.
"i got you." he repeats, opening the unlocked passenger door of his car and helping thomas inside.
thomas collapses against the back of the passenger seat as soon as the door shuts behind him. the sudden absence of sound from the streets around him leave a dull ringing in his ears as alex slides into the drivers seat, turning the key.
as the car pulls away from the curb, thomas turns back to focusing on his breathing, which is notably faster and slightly out of his control, and the ounce of common sense still registering in his brain begs him not to have a goddamn panic attack in alex’s car. it’s too much. in his mind, it’s not alex’s car but james’s, and it’s not june, it’s april. and he’s right back where he started. where he swore he wouldn’t ever go again.
he feels the car slowing and coming to a stop, and he opens his eyes carefully. sure enough, there’s alex’s apartment building. it takes a moment to get it through his mind. much like everything happening around him.
it takes alex seconds to get out of the car and shut the door behind him, and he wastes no time in walking over to the passenger side and opening the door. he pulls thomas up and out of his car, bumping the door with his hip to close it.
he loosely directs thomas to the apartment. one hand messing with his keys, trying to get the right one, and one hand around his waist. he unlocks the door and pulls it open, taking thomas up the stairs one step at a time. seeing him like this breaks his heart.
thomas is barely through the door before his stomach lurches again. he reaches out one arm to steady himself, nearly falling to his knees, his other hand clasping over his mouth. he ducks his head, hurrying to the bathroom, tripping over his own feet.
his knees hit the cold floor and he barely lifts the toilet lid in time, his stomach heaving, ridding itself of the vodka he’d downed less than an hour before.
back in the entryway, alex takes a step back. unsure of what to do.
water?
he runs to the kitchen, grabbing a clean glass from the counter. filling it with water and bringing it back to the bathroom, setting it on the floor. he sits down on the floor next to thomas, not knowing what will help and what won't. placing his hand on his back lightly, trying to keep himself together. the last thing thomas needs is a sobbing mess trying to help him through tonight.
thomas’s whole body is shaking as he reaches for the roll of toilet paper hanging next to him, hands shaking, tearing off a strip to wipe his mouth with. his forehead is covered in a cold sweat, vision swimming.
he glances over as alex sits down beside him, eyes dropping to the glass of water. he fights to keep from crying; no words are needed. he reaches for the glass, taking a careful sip. squeezing his eyes shut after setting it back down, tears brimming against his will.
alex grabs a small towel that's folded on the counter, wiping thomas's face carefully.
“it's okay. you're okay,” he says softly, moving the glass against the wall.
“i got you,” he repeats again, wrapping an arm around him. he pulls his hair behind his ear, giving him time to wait. he doesn't need to move right now.
“tell me when you want to get up,” he says cautiously, looking over into the hallway. “we don’t have to go anywhere, just- if you're uncomfortable let me know.” he's trying not to talk too much, not really sure how it feels to be completely drunk like this. he's had a couple shots before, nothing harmful, never close to this.
thomas rests against alex’s side, tears streaming down his face, clinging to his eyelashes.
“i promised you.” his words are still strung together, his voice still hoarse, now even more so with the addition of being so close to breaking down. “said you wouldn’t have to- to see me like this again.” the air reeks. he can almost smell the vomit and alcohol on his breath, and he’s completely disgusted with everything about himself. trembling, bringing his knees to his chest, curling in on himself.
“it's okay.” he pulls himself closer to him, his hand flat against his back.
“i love you, i'm sorry you did this, i really am. i know it's my fault and i-”
he breaks off. he's on the verge of breaking down, but he knows he can't do that. he can't leave both of them unstable like that.
“i'm sorry. i'm not mad or anything, i swear.”
he looks down at the cold white tile underneath them; trying to control himself, numbing his emotions, keeping himself stable for this moment. he knows thomas needs it.
thomas buries his head in his knees, breaking down completely. his emotions were already heightened by alcohol alone. the fact that this was the first time this had happened in a while wasn’t helping either. something in his heart couldn’t take it. he cries out, a guttural sound, shaking. “i broke my promise. i broke my fucking promise.” his voice is choked by tears, sobs racking his body. “god, please just— please let it be over, just end it, god, please—”
and alex shatters.
he's lost it, tears streaming down his face, quietly trying to hide the fact that he's crying uncontrollably. he wipes his face with the back of his hand. completely at a loss for words. he tries to stop crying, enough to pass as fine when he speaks. he looks up at the ceiling, the light flickering. he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"thomas. listen to me. it's okay, you're okay. i'm sorry you have to go through this." he chokes, his throat sore from fighting back tears.
“i don’t want to drag you with me.” thomas stammers, barely registering anything going on around him, alex’s voice being the only sound processing through his mind. he looks up, eyes reddened. his breathing is shallow, fighting back sobs. “i’m fucking crashing and i—” he doesn’t know how to stop, how to regain control of himself. his breathing turns to gasps, heart pounding, shaking.
“you're not dragging anyone,” alex stammers hastily. “please just, breathe, okay? you're just fine. don't worry about me or anyone else right now. i'm okay. you're okay. just breathe. you haven't done anything wrong.”
slowly he's calming back down, all thoughts blurring into what thomas needs and that only. not what he's done. not what he should have done. just what he's doing, and what he's going to do. if there's anything alex is bad at it's being comforting, but all he can do is try
thomas shakes his head, indicating he can’t breathe, and tries helplessly to regain control. collapses against alex for support, repeating “i’m so sorry” through gasps. a lump forms in his throat that he can’t seem to swallow, and the cold sweat drenches his forehead again. minutes seem to drag on, every second spent trying to recover. he was never good at getting through panic attacks on his own, and with drunkenness working against him-
but he’s not on his own. he focuses on alex’s voice, and his breathing slows gradually. he opens his eyes, looking down at the floor. the floor is real. the walls are real. the room is real.
and so is alex, grabbing the towel from the floor and wiping thomas's forehead again.
“you don't have to be sorry, you're wasting your breath. there's nothing to be sorry for. i'm here for you, okay? don't worry, i love you.” his sentences are on autopilot by now, whatever he thinks sounds semi decent subconsciously is said. he's so focused on sounding calm, keeping his heartbeat steady. he looks over at the glass, offering it to thomas, holding it up to his hands.
and thomas takes it, struggling to keep his hands from shaking. drinking slowly, a little bit at a time.
“just want today to be over.” he’s speaking partially into the glass, his voice muffled and hoarse from crying, words still strung together. he blinks and glances over at alex, eyes meeting his.
“i know,” alex replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “i know. it's almost over. are you tired?” he glances up at the clock in the hallway. a quarter past one.
he could stay up forever if he had to. thomas has had a long night, and frankly so has he. rest is important but so is reassurance. he looks back at thomas, sighing.
thomas nods, the movement sending a rush of dizziness to his head. he blinks again, hard, trying to clear his head, to no avail. still drunk, he’s forced to remind himself, even though he’d rid himself of all he’d consumed.
“you can drive me home if you want to. don’t want to make you deal with me in the morning.” he doesn’t even want to entertain the notion of the hangover he was sure to have.
“it's okay. i'm sure you'll be fine by yourself, but i don't want to leave you alone. unless you want to go home?”
“i don’t know.” he shakes his head, letting his eyes fall closed. “not really…too good at thinking right now.” vaguely even aware of the words he’s saying. the dizziness persists in his head, aching.
“that's alright, i'll spare us the drive and just have you stay here.” alex gets up, back sliding against the wall, reaching his hand out to thomas.
hesitantly, thomas takes alex’s hand, pulling himself up. he stumbles slightly as he gets to his feet, immediately reaching for alex’s arm to balance himself. he takes a breath. keeps his eyes on his feet, making sure they don’t give out from under him.
right there on the left just past the bathroom door is alex’s bedroom. he pushes the door open with his back, guiding thomas to his bed and letting him sit down, standing in front of him.
“is there anything i can do for you?” he shifts his weight, glancing over at the clock.
“uh. have an advil ready in the morning?”
the joke is half hearted, and more self-deprecating than anything else. there’s no making light of the situation, anyways. thomas knows that. his head is throbbing already, he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to get through a full work day tomorrow. he glances up at alex, blinking to try and clear his vision.
“got it, ”he says, managing a weak smile in re of the attempted joke. “c'mon. it's really late, we should try and sleep.” he looks down at his feet, hands on thomas's shoulders. “nothing else?” he adds, looking back up.
thomas hesitates. “help me get through this.” his voice goes quiet, low, the shift in mood almost palpable. his eyes meet alex’s. he tries again to clear the lump in his throat, and swears he can still taste the vodka on his tongue; a pang of self-hatred strikes his chest. “that’s all you could possibly do.”
pause.
“of course.”
through the darkness of the room alex walks over to the other side of the bed, laying down over the blankets. he moves closer to thomas, wrapping his arm around him.
“goodnight, thomas. i love you.”
he closes his eyes, trying not to think about anything at this moment. trying to stay on emotional shut down. to not think at all about what had just happened.
thomas rests his head against alex’s, shifting closer to him, draping one arm over him. “goodnight.”
and for some reason, it takes him a minute to form the words that had been so natural to say these past few weeks. he blames it on his slowed mind, and closes his eyes.
ten o’clock and there’s a knock on thomas’s door; he assumes it’s james, even though he told him he’d be fine. stands up, walks over, sighs.
outside, just past the doorstep, alex shifts his weight on his feet, still looking down. what are you doing? why are you doing this? if anything it’ll make the whole situation worse.
thomas mentally prepares himself for the now-usual “just go home, everything’s okay” as he fiddles with the chain lock on his door. turns the doorknob, hoping this will be over with quickly, and opens the door.
and it’s not james.
“alexander?”
alex’s head darts up. eyes wide, he takes his hands out of his pockets.
he takes a deep breath.
"i know what you're thinking, but please listen to me. just for a minute. i did some things i definitely shouldn't have done. i said some things i definitely shouldn't have said. i've worded things wrong, i've deleted entire drafts before revising and improving, i've stayed up all night typing, i've made dumb decisions. i know. but i'm not here to explain and try to make what i've done seem okay, for you to forgive me, or to pity me. i'm just here to tell you that i know what i did was wrong. we haven't talked face to face in a while. i'm sorry about that... and i'm sorry if coming to your door makes the whole situation worse, i thought about that. but i'm here anyway.”
he pauses. thomas’s expression is impossible to read. and he doesn’t stop to try and read it. he drives on, scrapping every version of this speech that he’d practiced in front of his mirror for days. none of it seems worthwhile now.
“i know you weren't expecting me, sorry for the unpleasant surprise. i'm so horribly sorry for absolutely everything i've done. i had my shit together for a while, i somehow got myself into a decently stable relationship. time slowed down for a bit. next thing i knew i was hit by a big "i'm going away." i thought i was safe. i thought i wouldn't have to be hurt anymore. i thought that asshole was out of my life forever but out of the blue you fly away, and i was stuck. i was stuck knowing that he was going to text me, manipulate me, make me think things that weren't true. and guess what? that's exactly what he did.
“no, it's no excuse. i should've been able to say no. it's a fucking two letter word for god's sake. but no, i didn't. i screwed up, bad. time was going by faster than it ever had before. i barely had time to take a breath and think about what i was doing. that's why i fucked up. i couldn't think about what was going on. i know i—”
his voice cracks. don’t cry. don’t fucking cry.
“i know i fucked that all up. i'm sorry i hurt you. you don't deserve to be hurt by anyone. i don't deserve you, i really never did. i can't believe i did something like that, that's not how i am. but it happened. i know it did. i'm not trying to ignore it or pretend it never happened, i'm just- lost. i don't know what else to do other than come here and try and explain that i hate what i've done, and i'm just. trying to get over it and the only way i can get over it is by telling you to your face that i know i screwed up. texting you wasn't real enough, you could say. so here i am, telling you that i'm a dick. that's all.”
thomas considers telling alexander to leave. that he doesn’t have the right to do this — but the fact is he’s crying. tears clinging to his eyelashes, staining his cheeks.
and he’s right back in february again.
right back at the cafe. caught in the rain. back at the museum. at the movies. outside alexander’s apartment.
he can barely breathe.
some part of him forces him to stay in the present. to remember the countless nights he’s spent within the past month hiding under a sheet of intoxication. all because of alex. all because of what he did, and how he handled it, and—
and does this make up for it?
does this begin to make up for it? no. but it’s better than silence.
it’s so much better than silence.
there is so much more to you — he’d told alexander that just two nights ago, without fully remembering just how much more there was to him. every kiss, every joke, every late night they’d spent talking about nothing and everything. he’s there again.
and there aren’t any words for it.
there is only alexander, and everything he is.
shaking, barely stifling sobs, he takes a step forward, just past his doorway, and pulls alexander close. holding him so tightly for what feels like the first time all over again. everything falling back into place.
alex’s arms are still stuck to his sides, thomas pulling him close. eyes still open in shock. is his mind playing a trick on him? is it friday night and he's dreaming? probably.
but it's not. it's all too real. thomas's heartbeat. his arms wrapped around his body. alex's entire body shaking. he's not crying, but his face is strained with a you're about to cry pain. confusion floods his brain. this isn't what he was expecting. his eyes shut, turning his head so his forehead is against thomas's chest.
“i love you.”
thomas’s words make it real. choked through sobs, barely there. they make it all real. he must have said them a hundred times before, before all of this, but it’s as if this is the first time they’ve meant what they were supposed to mean. and he loves him. he knows that. no if, but, probably, or maybe. he doesn’t even think about letting him go; he could stay here forever. tears fall past his cheeks onto alexander’s hair.
“i love you.”
alex’s mouth is dry, throat sore. he can't even make out an "i love you" back. he just pulls him as close as he can. never letting go. never forgetting this feeling. the cold air from the front door of the building not far from his back, where he thought he would end up.
"go home alex, i can't do this. i told you. i can't forgive you. please, go home."
words he thought would hear before the slam of a door, his heart sinking and tears rolling down his cheeks, the feeling of absolute rejection.
but no, instead replaced by something completely different. something he wouldn't even have dreamed of happening.
thomas rocks slightly on his feet, holding alexander so close, heart aching with the burden of the past month and a half being lifted from it.
there is a line often used to describe moments like these, and that line is “the rest of the world melted away.” thomas had always thought of that expression as terribly cliché. overused. meaningless.
in this moment it is anything but. surely, absolutely, there is no one else in the world except for him and alexander. everything has been put on pause. there is only this. only their arms wrapped so tightly around each other. nothing else matters. and he loves him.
alex chokes out a sob, hot tears rolling down his face. it's setting in. the final realization.
he forgives him.
he forgives him.
he can see him again. he can think of thomas again. he doesn't have to move on anymore. there's nothing to move on from. no shattered relationship. he can't focus. it's unbelievable. he doesn't know what to do, let alone what to say. if he can even say anything. he never wants to move. he wants to stand here, cool air blowing lightly behind him.
a chill in the night air gusts over the two, and thomas comes to his senses, opening tear-fogged eyes to the world around them.
“god, i’m—”
he pauses. breathes. laughs lightly, almost bewildered, taking a step back. “i’m so sorry, it’s…cold.” and it’s just like any other night while being anything but all at once. his eyes meet alexander’s, asking the inevitable question, even though they both remember the last time he was in thomas’s apartment.
alex can't say anything. he's standing there, eyes staring up at thomas. his head nods. barely processing everything that's going on. time is flying, one thought soon being drowned out by the last.
thomas still can’t seem to stop crying completely; blinking back stinging tears, brushing them aside. one arm still around alexander, leading him inside, mind still spinning — alexander, who broke his heart and put it back together again. who he forgives. after everything. a month and a half of trying to heal on his own, and alexander does it all for him in moments.
he closes the door, and stops, hand resting on the doorknob. eyes dropping to the floor, a trace of a sad smile darting across his face. his voice quiet when he speaks. “there’s so much i want to say to you, and i have no idea how to say it.”
alex smiles softly; a smile of relief, in a way. he sighs, realizing he’d been practically holding his breath the entire time.
"it's okay," he whispers. it's all he's really capable of doing at the moment. "thank you." he says, wiping his face with his sleeve. leaning against thomas, his head against his arm.
thomas rests his head against the top of alexander’s, eyes falling closed. “likewise.” there is so much he has to thank him for. so much he’s shown him. he’s quiet for a moment, taking everything in; memorizing every inch of alexander all over again. he’s forgotten too much.
alex shakes his head, thinking about everything that's happened in the past five months. how insane all of it has been. his eyes open and he laughs under his breath, "god, i'm tired." he admits, wiping his face again and messing with his sleeve.
“stay,” thomas suggests, glancing over towards his room. he knows how significant of a suggestion it is. it’s a risk. the nights they’d spent together months ago were intimate; it had been at those late hours that they’d shared so much with each other, fallen even more in love.
he blinks, looking back at alexander. “if you want to.”
alex pulls his hair out of his face, then letting it fall back. "that would be nice." he says, looking down. it's somewhat embarrassing, for a reason he can't quite explain.
thomas’s breath catches, heart stopping. he doesn’t know what to say. the unspoken words between the two of them are almost tangible. unspoken for good reason. there is no way to put any of this into words. with the same impulsive motive, he leans forward, eyes falling shut, and kisses him, pulling him close.
alex's eyes widen for a moment, not fully catching on to what's going on. then his eyes quickly shut, arms wrapped around thomas's waist. his heart pounding.
thomas tilts his head forward to deepen the kiss, arms draped loosely around alexander’s neck. and for a moment, there he is again, at alexander’s doorway back in february, kissing him for the first time. he knows this can’t go any further; he can’t. not yet. but he pushes that out of his mind.
a long moment passes before alex breaks away, looking down. swaying his body side to side, shifting his weight. his mind is completely jumbled. none of it even feels real anymore. he looks at his shoes, tapping his toes up and down silently.
concern flickers across thomas’s eyes; he takes a step back. “i’m sorry.” his voice is barely above a murmur. “you’re tired — this is all happening really fast.”
alex’s head darts up. "no-!" his voice cracks awkwardly,, "no. don't be sorry. i just don't want this to get... carried away, you know?" he says, looking to the side.
thomas nods somewhat rigidly, a lump forming in his throat. “i know, i—we should wait. i’m not—we’re not—" he stops himself from stammering on any further, shaking his head. “you’re tired,” he repeats, his eyes not meeting alexander’s.
"i'm tired," alex confirms, looking over at thomas's room. "are you tired? because we can stay up if you want." he asks. his hands move down to the bottom of his sweatshirt, messing with the loose strings.
thomas shakes his head again, looking up. “it’s late.” he reaches for alexander’s hand, cracking a small smile. “we’ve got so many more nights to stay up.”
"you're right." he looks up at thomas, taking his hand. he yawns, slapping his sweater sleeve to his face. "let's go before i fall asleep while we're standing here."
thomas laughs, the first real laugh he’s managed in a while. holding alexander’s hand in his, he heads to his room, opening the door for them both. and god, there are so many thoughts spinning in his mind he’s not sure how he'll be able to sleep.
but the man he loves is at his side. staying with him again, holding him again. come morning, he’ll wake up next to him. they’ll have the whole day together. and the day after that, and after that.
at first, it wasn’t a matter of forgetting. it was a matter of accepting and moving on, and that proved to be easier said than done. sure, for a while it was okay. those first days were more relieving than anything. getting a chance to be together again. even through the nagging tension that had clogged up every evening until the night when they finally took the next steps further.
and god, that night.
of course, everything about it was perfect. everything. nothing during the night itself went wrong at all. it’s the next night that keeps thomas awake for hours. and the night after that, and the night after that.
accept and move on. that was what he’d promised himself he was going to do. and for a few fleeting days, he’d managed to start. managed to convince himself he’d completely forgiven alex, that he was ready to jump right back into rebuilding, trying to get things back to the way they were before.
and hell, maybe he had been. maybe he’d been ready to forgive alex on the night he’d told him he loved him for the first time in too long. maybe he’d been ready to go further on the night he did. he certainly didn’t have any doubts about it at the time.
so what was causing him to lose sleep over those nights? what was forcing him to re-evaluate his decisions?
night after night he finds himself lying awake while alex sleeps soundly beside him, his eyes glued to the ceiling.
his mind has abandoned the concept of forgetting, of blocking out what he can’t stop himself from thinking about, which brings him to—
remembering.
remembering is what breaks him in the end.
it creeps into his mind, bit by bit; thoughts of this is the same bed, john was in this bed, what are you doing back here?
he tries to ignore it. to pass it off as old anxieties coming back to mess with him when it’s late and he’s got nothing else to think about.
and then there comes a night when he rolls over on his side, his eyes long since adjusted to the darkness, and looks over at alex’s untroubled face. fast asleep, his breathing slow, almost inaudible.
and for a moment, thomas only sees the man who held john laurens in his arms night after night in this very same bed.
it’s like he’s right there, back in march, in john’s place instead of being across an ocean in france. he doesn’t recognize alex; would he have recognized him then?
do these sheets still remind alex of then? of john?
and then the thought is gone, and thomas sees once again the man he’s forgiven and fallen in love with all over again.
but for hours bleeding into days on end, that moment leaves him thinking. it leaves him rethinking everything he’s done. he wonders if he’s plain stupid for forgiving alex after all this, after everything. he wonders if he’s made the right decisions.
he doesn’t want to think about this. any of this. but it’s harder and harder for him to ignore it.
the days are still okay, for the most part.
but come night, he can’t seem to shut out those questions. and as far as he wants to believe, there’s no way to forget them. not any that he wants to consider.
