Broken- And Fixed Again- (A Jamilton Fanfic)

Chapter 27: Headache

//TW: swearing, thoughts of self-harm and suicide, attempted rape\\

Alexander

"Feelings?" I asked John playfully, slightly scoffing as the five of us walked through the illuminated city. The cool winter evening breeze swirled through the air, whipping against my uncovered face. "What are those?"

John cocked an eyebrow. "Oh come on. Everyone knows that Alexander Hamilton is the biggest softie in the world."

"Hah! Don't make me laugh!"

John smirked, glancing over at something behind me. I tracked his gaze and felt my stomach drop, already knowing exactly what he was going to do. "Thomas!"

Thomas, who was completely caught in his own, distant world while humming a whisper of a tune to himself, looked up. A soft, worried frown spilled over his features, disrupting the placidity of the moment before, a moment I would have given anything to be apart of. I didn't like the thought of him alone. Even surrounded by people, and he still looked alone. It didn't seem quite right. "Hmm?"

"What do you call a famous turtle?"

The taller boy looked slightly confused. "Uhh... this better not be a stupid joke."

"It's not stupid, it's good. Promise."

Thomas sighed. "Alright, I honestly have no clue."

No, John, please, no.

John grinned. "A shellebrity."

That adorable, tinkling, half-covered laugh drowned out the rush and the clamor of the rest of the world, brushing up against me and pulling me up into an indigo sky filled with thousands of blinking stars, miles away. They called out to me through Thomas's laugh, the living embodiment of their starsong. I let the simplistic symphony embrace me, a melody I had never quite heard before and would never quite hear again, at least not in the same way. The colors around me blurred and softened, until there was nothing left but Thomas and the endless sky, which only brightened with the elegant curve of his beam. Something settled in my chest, something powerful and something remote all at the same time. I stared at him, simply breath-taken.

Thomas caught my gaze, and his smile only widened. I stared because it was all I could do, because speaking or moving or even breathing incorrectly would fracture the delicate frame in time, and the shards would disappear forever. And it was not something I could afford to lose.

"Somebody help me, I'm a mess. Hey, wait. JOHN LAURENS! I thought you were my friend!"

"I was right," John teased, laughing, before he quickly dashed off. He ducked behind Thomas as I chased after him.

A few minutes later, and we entered the small pizza place. Warmth blasted into our faces, contrasting to the chilly night air we had just abandoned a few seconds ago. The server led us to a table in a back corner of the restaurant, mostly forgotten. I sat down next to my Thomas and slid my hand into his, delighting in the rush of warmth and unmarked adrenaline as a singular though coursed through my mind.

He is mine.

I don't know why the thought of it still excited me as much as it did that first night where he laid in my arms and our heartbeats melted into one song, but every single moment spent in his presence still touches something deep inside of me. And every fear I may have once had, every anxiety and every doubt, has been replaced by this sense of safety and surety.