author: senaka [ 1 ]

Thom lay in the bed, blanket at his waist, lips tinged blue, hair still damp on the pillow. He moaned in his sleep, the distressed kind of moan that accompanies a high fever, and rolled over, reaching for an anchor and finding it in the form of Colin. Colin, who had begun to drift off, chasing his own troubled dreams, awoke with a start and enveloped Thom in his arms, pulling the blanket over them both. It took everything he had not to cry, as his friend shivered in his embrace, the shivers sometimes turning violent as exaustion and fever wracked his small frame. Tracing his fingers lightly along Thom's jaw and lifting his chin, Colin pressed a quick kiss to his love's forehead, before burying his face in his hair, taking in the scent of oranges and cigarettes and rain.

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Colin had seen him just the day before in his flat, hunched over a sheet of A4, biro scratching wildly at the paper. The circles were heavy under Thom's eyes, and he spoke with a manic paranoia that Colin had picked up on immediantly. 'What's wrong, mate?' he asked, sitting down across from Thom. 'Have you not been sleeping again?' Thom nodded solemly, continuing to frantically scribble across the paper. 'I cant sleep. I cant stop thinking. Its always the same and I don't want to feel it anymore.', he mumbled, his words almost meshing together. 'Can't get it out of my head you know? Everyone leaves me... in the end. Next I know you'll leave me too.' Glancing at him quizically, Colin reached out and placed his hand over Thom's. 'You know I'm not leaving...I can't imagine why you would think that. None of us are...' He smiled. 'Why would you even think such a silly thing?' Gently removing his hand from under Colin's, Thom buried his face in his hands. 'I can't tell you because then you'd go. I can't tell you... I ca-', whispered Thom, his eyes filling with tears and ruining the artwork he had laid before him, the ink running. 'Just leave me alone.', he mumbled miserably. Colin stood, wanting nothing more than to stop those tears, to disprove whatever logic had manifested itself so cruelly in his friend's psyche. 'Call me if you need anything, alright?' And he made his way home after that, confused and hurt and scared, having never seen Thom in such a state before.

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It had come as some considerable shock then the next evening when his doorbell rang, and he opened his door to find a waterlogged and barely concious Thomas on his front step. Taking him in quickly, not bothering to ask questions, Colin diligently worked to remove the soaked articles of clothing, nearly carrying the shaking singer to his bed, and covering him with the blanket. Grabbing a towel off the chair, he leaned over, doing his best to dry Thom's hair. 'Please don't leave me', murmured Thom weakly, 'I have to...tell you that I lov-' His words trailed off, sleep overtaking his exausted mind.

And that's where Colin had stayed, next to him on the bed, watching over Thom as he writhed and cried in his sleep, running his hands through the short, bleached spikes, murmuring 'I love you', until he himself could no longer stay awake.