Let Me Inside Your Heart || Jamilton

Fading

A/N: Thank you guys so much for 300 views. I really wasn't expecting that but I got it and wow. I know I'm not updating this as much, and that's because I'm focusing on my one-shots more. I know this fic should be priority, but I'm doing this in an attempt to improve my overall writing which will improve the quality of the fic. So, yea. Love you all, even though most of you are silent readers. x
Another quick thing - this chapter was really hard to write, because I have seen someone...fade. It's so, so terrifying and I'm not very comfortable with this part of the story so - expect Alex to make a speedy recovery. As in, next chapter.

Alex had changed.

He knew he had. He had been ruined by the first serious relationship he had been in. He hadn't even wanted it - it was pushed onto him and he was forced to take it. He was beginning to think he was drugged the night at the bar, when he had gone home with Preston. He found some very interesting drugs in one of his drawers.

The kind that makes someone delirious before knocking them out.

And of course, he hadn't said a word about it. No, he would have most likely gotten hit again. He hated being hit. It hurt physically, yes, very much. But each blow he endured was also a huge dent in his mental state. Just when he thought he had hit rock bottom, Preston had shoved him down further until he felt like he was buried under the dirt.

He hadn't slept in around three days. Shadows flickered and skittered around his vision, and he was haunted by noises that were a product of his own mind. His eyes were sunken in. He was pale. He jumped at the slightest disturbance.

He didn't know what was keeping him awake anymore. What was bothering him. Why he felt so troubled. He searched for answers within his mind but always drew a blank. There was only this constant fear, one that would not leave him alone. It kept him up with a sense of guilt. He felt like it was his fault that it had happened. Had he just listened to Thomas, none of this would've happened. He would be fine. Everything would be fine. But he had to be stubborn. Of course.

It was around 10:00 PM, and he was going on his fourth night without sleep. He jumped when a loud knock sounded. He rushed to the door, afraid to answer. Who was outside his room? Preston?

A moment of lucidity hit him. No, you idiot, it's Thomas. He's coming to check on you because you've lost your fucking mind.

He quickly fell back into his haze when he opened the door and saw Thomas standing there. "Alexander, I think you need professional help," he said softly. Alex shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks," he hissed, ready to slam the door. But Thomas held it open. "Come into the living room with me. I'll make you some tea and everything will be fine." Thomas reached out a hand and Alexander instinctively flinched away. "I'll come," he said, cautiously stepping out as Thomas backed away from the door. He went off to the living room, and Thomas headed to the kitchen.

Thomas's POV

Thomas was worried sick.
Alexander had never been like this. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't sleep, and the only time he would come out of that damned room was to go to the bathroom. He showered twice a day, each time he came out of the shower he looked a little bit better. But that always quickly faded.

He didn't see Alex when he looked into his eyes anymore. No, the mocha-coloured depths were vacant and dim, rather than sharp and bright with intelligence and fire like they had once been. It was as if a void had opened in him and sucked all the good out. All the hope, all the light that onced burned in him. It was just... gone. He knew Alex needed help, but he was refusing. He needed to sleep - that was the first step.

He felt guilty as he did it. He crushed up sleeping pills and stirred them into his tea. He had only good intentions - this could save Alexander. He was fading. It terrified Thomas more than he thought it would. He watched the white powder slowly dissipate into the tea. He willed his guilt to disappear with it, but it simply would not.

He brought the tea out to Alex, who jumped when he approached. He took a nervous sip, his eyes never leaving Thomas as he drank his own tea. He was sitting on the sofa opposite to Alex, as he knew he didn't like being too close to others. Not anymore. He remembered having Alex tucked into the curve of his body and felt a sharp, painful blade of longing pierce him.

Alex put the tea down and turned uneasily to the TV. Thomas had changed it to Investigation Discovery - he knew it was a channel Alex liked. He quickly became absorbed in learning about the murder of a young girl. Thomas kept glancing over at him out of the corner of his eye until finally, he saw his eyes close.

He turned the television off, leaning forward to simply stare at the man. He reached across the table to brush Alex's hair out of his face, but dared not touch him any more in fear of waking him. His expression finally looked peaceful. Hopefully, he would be more reasonable when he woke. Maybe he wouldn't have to be taken in to get medicine for some psychological issue - he was still going to take him in, but something in him told him that Alex would only need something for depression and anxiety.

He stood and gently covered Alexander with a blanket. He didn't even move. Periodically, Thomas would get up to check to see if he was breathing. He would study the rise and fall of his chest and reach a hand forward to feel the air brush against his fingertips as Alex exhaled. He would place two fingers on the side of his neck very gently to check for a pulse, before doing the same with one of his wrists.

Thomas again stayed up for the entire night, but this time he knew Alex was safe. He was under his watch, and Thomas wouldn't let anything happen to him.
Not now, not ever.