With One Pill -- A JAMILTON SMUT AND STORY

Labled As Hurt - 11

THOMAS POV

I watched as he sobbed into his hands. He looked helpless, shivering in the corner of the room. He wouldn't even look at me. Had it gotten worse? No matter how much I wanted to go over to him and comfort him, I knew that I couldn't. The doctor, stupid ass Ms. Rhoni, said I can't go to him. He has to come to me. Why? Why is that the deal? Sure, she's the expert in this stuff, but she doesn't know Alex. Not like I do...

    I continued to watch him, moments away from breaking the rule and running towards him, but I was stopped in my tracks. He got up, turned around, and left the room. I sat there, stunned and in shock.

9:36 A.M
"Alex, just please look at me!" Thomas pleaded. He stood at the other side of the kitchen, watching Alex as he stood near the coffee machine. He didn't answer.

"Alex!" Still no answer.

"Come on, Hamilton! At this point, I don't care what the doctor said. Just talk to me! Even a glance will leave me satisfied. Please Alexander, we can't live like this."

Thomas was on the verge of tears. Since Alex woke up one night having a panic attack, everything had gotten worse. They went to the doctor more frequently, Alex became more preservative, and Thomas didn't know what was happening. Lately, Thomas felt that Alex was acting more...scared. He didn't like that. Not one bit. He definitely did not wanna be portrayed as scary or intimidating to his boyfriend. As for Ms. Rhoni, Thomas really despised her. She and Alex has grown accustomed to each other, But Thomas had other thoughts. All she did was keep him away from Alex. Alex didn't refuse because he knew she was right, but Thomas still hated it. Thomas sighed before making his way over to Alex.

"Alex-"

Alex spun around and looked up, his eyes glossy. He immediately ducked his head, looking down. He tried to move around Thomas, getting out of the kitchen. Thomas moved immediately, not wanting to block him. Before Alex left, he slid a note into Thomas's hand. He didn't so much as look back before closing the front door behind him. Thomas rubbed his temple as he held the note between his fingers. He sat at the table and opened it up.

"God, why does he write like he's running out of time?" Thomas muttered to himself, eyeing the small handwriting that filled the whole page. The note read:

My dearest, Thomas,

I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

       I know the last week has been unpalatable for us, but please continue to stay by my side. The doctor said I must come to you. I must take initiative to look at you without breaking down, to talk to you without crying, and... I need help. Please don't worry. Don't fret. Just love me. Don't leave me. I know it's a lot to ask, but that would be enough. That night when I had a panic attack, everything changed. I haven't told you what happened in that dream yet. Trust me, I've been meaning to, but I can't get myself to do so. I've come to the conclusion that writing it is better. My nightmare that night was...something I know in my heart you would never do, right? Right, of course. Well here it is...

As Thomas continued to read, the paper in his hands felt damp. His tears painted the paper, dinting each letter. He dropped the letter and ran to the door. He couldn't bare to read what was next. He needed answers, real ones. He grabbed his car keys and coat and left the apartment. The paper just now settled to the ground as Thomas left the household.

From, A. Ham.

Thomas paced around frantically in the doctor's clinic. He glanced at his watch three times in one minute, annoyed at how slow time was going.