Broken- And Fixed Again- (A Jamilton Fanfic)

Chapter 27: Who's To Blame? (part 2)

//TW: suicide, self-harm, ptsd, abuse\\

Oh boy here we go.

Prepare yourselves guys.

~•~

Part 1: The Note
Thomas

There's a moment, faced by the morning sunlight and the rapid retreat of all the dreams that can only face you in the darkness, where there is nothing in this world but a pervasive, unending feeling of total bliss. There's a feeling of unencumbered warmth, gliding through my bones, feeding into every last way I had tried so hard to adore myself. A moment where I have to wonder why I was ever worried by fleeting and temporary problems, when there is nothing but this joyous light to be worshipped and praised. There's a world that flirts on the cusp of faceless dreams and loveless reality, and I found myself blissfully trapped to it.

And delighted to be.

For there was a voice, so close, so far. It sang its symphony from all around me, a lilting tone easing the weariness dragging down at every limb.

"I don't know, but...but I am terrified," said the voice. I smiled as I listened to it speak. It was warm and gentle, soft and caring, protective and kind. The voice was like a gentle rainstorm in the middle of a blazing hot summer. When I listened to it, I felt safe. Like I was home. Like I belonged.

I nestled myself further into a nearby source of warmth and let myself smile gently.

Part of me wished to never regain meaning. Part of me wished to stay in this world forever.

"Thomas?" said the voice.

A devastating silence filled the space the voice did not occupy. I pressed myself closer into the warmth, desperate for it to cascade down around my shoulders like fluttering sunlight. To never have to think about anything.

I wanted to hear the voice speak again. It was so pretty, so comforting. Just the sound of it was better than any piece of music. Perhaps I should linger trapped in this world for just a moment or two longer, living for the voice and its sweet, sultry embrace.

But the world does not care for what I wish, and the blissful state slowly melted away under an intense heat, and harsh gray light blurred my vision as my eyelids slowly fell open. I raised my head, blinking the sleep from my eyes, and let my gaze wander around the small room. The memories of the night before hit me hard, and all at once, the fresh cuts creeping their way up my arm burned like a thousand tiny stars had ignited all at once, only to burn away just as fast. My heart shattered in my chest, and the light suddenly seemed cruel and cold.

The first thing I made out was Lafayette smiling at me, though it was a sad smile. A pitying smile. "Good morning, Thomas. How are you feeling?"

I felt a pair of arms tighten around my body, bringing me closer. Lips pressed against my forehead, fingers burned away at my skin. It was a suffocating touch, one that devoured me whole without hesitation. A touch that I did not deserve, a comfort that seemed so utterly foreign to me. I wormed my way out of the grasp of those two arms, desperate for freedom, desperate for space to exist on my own. My back flattened against the opposite end of the couch, and my eyes took in whose grasp I had just escaped, and my voice fell away into the depths of an abyss so unending, it swiftly became irretrievable.

Alexander gazed at me, eyes saddened, lips overturned in a frown that devastated me. I swallowed, but he smiled all the same, the bitingly short flash of pain in his eyes disappearing at once as he assumed a brave face. "Hey, love," he said, softly, as if afraid to break some precious silence I hadn't realized had existed.