Work Text:
You are paranoid in every paragraph...
Alexander stood on the cliff, the wind blowing his inky black hair out of his face.
A stack of papers was tightly held in his right hand, slightly wrinkled from his tight grasp. The writing was a sloppy, barely legible mess at best, bit a disgusting mess of panicked scrawls of ink at worst. He used to be able to build palaces out of paragraphs. Now he could barely write a sentence without breaking down. He looked up, fixing his dull, empty brown eyes on the murky grey sky above him.
I'm erasing myself from the narrative...
He looked down at the letters one last time before he let go, watching the senseless writing drift down, down, down, into the sea. He leaned forward.
The next thing he knew, he was being yanked back from the edge by a pair of strong arms. Someone lifted him up, and he just hung there, limp, as he silently sobbed. He heard a soft voice, a voice that sounded oddly similar to Jefferson's, but that can't be right. Jefferson didn't care about Alexander. Jefferson never cared about Alexander. Alexander was horrible, disgusting. Jefferson was beautiful, amazing, and, well...perfect. He felt himself being lowered down gently, and that strong pair of arms pulling him close. He heard faint crying, and his name being called, but he couldn't tell who it was. He just stared ahead.
I'm watching it burn...
"Alexander, why? Why would you..." He heard Hopefully-Not-Jefferson say, his voice full of sadness. The voice was most definitely Jefferson's, but why? Why would Jefferson bother saving him? Jefferson, his enemy, pulled him back from the edge. He needed to know why.
The world has no right to my heart...
Why, why, why. The word spun around in his mind, clogging his thoughts. Why. He didn't know why. He couldn't tell Jefferson why, because he didn't know. He didn't. He was spiraling out of control. He was like a hurricane, he destroyed everything, and everyone, he loved. He was a monster. He deserved to die.
Jefferson held Alexander tight, as if he never wanted to let go. "Please, never do that again. I don't know what I'd do without you...my dear Alexander."
Alex's head snapped up as he tried to pull away, thrashing violently. No, no, no! Jefferson didn't need him-no one needed him! He opened his mouth in a silent wail. Alexander sobbed as Jefferson pulled him closer, too close. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn't think. All he could do was mumble senseless apologies into Jefferson's chest.
"Shh, darling, it's okay. Everything's going to be okay..I promise..." Jefferson whispered in Alex's ear. "Just breath with me, okay? In, one...two...three...four. Out, one...two...three...four. That's it, darling." He said, rubbing calming circles onto Alex's back and arms. "It's going to be okay. I love you, Alex. Remember that." Jefferson said, kissing Alex's forehead as the smaller started to fall asleep.
Jefferson picked up his short, terrifyingly light boyfriend up in his arms, and carried him back to the car, knowing Alex was in no shape to walk. He looked so...so fragile, like a single gust of wind could blow him away. He was like old glass, so thin that the lightest tap sent tiny, spiderweb-like cracks in the glass before it fell to pieces at your feet. He sighed. "Oh, Alex, why don't you just talk to me?"