Broken- And Fixed Again- (A Jamilton Fanfic)

Chapter 8: Morning Sky

//TW: mentions of past self-harm, swearing\\

Alexander

"You didn't sleep on the couch all night, did you?" asked that soft voice that sounded as though it belonged in a dream, and for a few confusing moments, I assumed they had. But the hazy remains of sleep dissolved the second they touched the air, followed by whatever sweet nothing I had dreamt about. It fled into the blinding mist, and reality came crashing back in its place. But reality wasn't so bad, especially not with Thomas sitting next to me, our fingers almost touching. It took me a second or two to process that he had been the one to ask the question, that it hadn't been a mere product of my imagination.

Somehow, that made me smile, knowing that he was real.

"No," I said groggily, running a hand through my hair. I forced myself to sit up, only managing to do so when Thomas offered me his hand. "No, I didn't. I swear." It was a lie, of course. But my room had seemed to far away from his. And if he had woken up in the middle of the night, needing something? How could I deny him that? It was far safer to stay closer to him, so that he could find me should something go wrong.

I felt safer at least.

He smiled a smile that was almost as effective as caffeine in terms of waking me up and folded his legs underneath him as he inched a little closer to me.

"How're you feeling?" I asked, though a part of me dreaded the answer. Regardless, I needed to know. "Better?"

He nodded, his eyes dropping to the couch. "A lot better. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have..." He trailed off as I took his hands in mine, cocking my head at him. "Well," he said, swallowing as I drew my thumb across the bandages, still touched by the faintest hints of blood. "I promise I won't do it again."

"Good. Do you mind if I ask what set it off?"

Thomas shifted away from me, his hands falling. It was remarkable how warm his skin was, and how suddenly cold and empty I felt without his touch. I forced the pang of the emotions I couldn't understand down and crossed my arms, almost like I was defending myself from their barbed attacks.

"You don't have to talk about it, if you don't want to," I reassured as soon as I caught the hesitance flashing across his face.

"I don't know. I think I was just..." He sighed, and only then did I truly see all the unbridgeable chasms there really were between us. All the things I would never be able to understand and the privileges I had in that. Short of Thomas stripping his feelings bare for the world to see, exposing every vulnerability he had and leaving him at the mercy of other humans, who were notorious for destroying the few good things in this world, there was nothing either of us could currently do to narrow the gap besides, well, talking.

I'm good enough at talking. I think.

I listened, waiting. He looked up at me, and I offered him my best attempt at a smile, and his shoulders relaxed.

"I don't know. I really don't."

"That's okay. You don't have to," I said.

Thomas nodded, and he drew the rest of the way away from me. I longed to grab out and run my fingers across his hand, just to feel his warmth. Just to assure him that I was here, and he was here, and that was all we needed. To breathe and to simply be, without fear of what might happen the second we relax.