Chapter Text
Andrew woke in the dead of night.
Witching hours, his and Thomas’s selfless ritual of fighting monsters until dawn painted the sky, seeping between the slits of tree limbs and vibrant autumn leaves—like water color dripping on a cracked canvas. It didn’t take long for his consciousness to sprout behind his heavily closed eyes, causing the ever so slowly flourishing forest within him to drop down the pit of his stomach. A blooming panic, immediately realizing they’ve overslept, potentially inviting these creatures from their cryptic minds into the only place they thought was safe; for now.
But then that anxious ache left just as soon as it weighed over him, an ascending mist of worry and uneasiness releasing from the pores of his skin once he was able to comprehend the familiar dip in the bed next to him.
His racing thoughts came to a halt, the scent of a boy intertwined with him intoxicating his brain, heart, and lungs. It was a comfortable high he never wanted to end. The first inhale should have caused him to cringe in fear—woodsy, earthy—a reminder of their sacrificial routine. Though, knowingly auburn curls became even more teasing, desperate for attention, softly tickling Andrew’s nose and cheeks. This allowed a more sweet, welcoming impression. Right away, he smelled notes of coffee on this caffeine fiend from the previous morning, accompanied with the aromas of cinnamon and brown sugar from Wickwood’s fall themed decorated halls.
Gradually peeling his eyes open, an instant gritty sensation scratched behind his eyelashes, indicating he hadn’t gotten much rest as he should have. With how the darkness in their shared room swam around his vision, Andrew could’ve easily mistaken himself still asleep, imagining and dreaming of the coziness which both his and Thomas’s bodies created. It didn’t take long to get adjusted to the black void, making out blurred outlines and shapes of objects in the dorm while moonlight washed over the walls and floor from the window.
Andrew stared up at the ceiling.
Searching for… Something.
He hoped to burn a hole through it to see the stars above, wanting to turn and tell Thomas, Look. We still have this. After everything, the night is still ours.
Being he was positioned on his back, he couldn’t quite see Thomas beside him. With that said, as a head full of hair nearly suffocated Andrew, he could tell the boy’s back was facing him. The pressure of his body naturally carving itself into the blond’s sides, like a confusing puzzle, simply making sense when pieced together. Their legs, and feet also wrapped, and hooked around each other in a way that made it apparent one of them would have wanted to be woken up if the other were to move. Being as close as they were, Thomas might as well have slept right on top of Andrew; neither of them would have minded.
Initially, this innocent habit started when the night ended up biting back at their skin, no longer covering them in the comfort of its blanket. The piling stress, and inevitable fatigue that followed resulted in deprivation, craving the warmth, and safety of each other. They’ve had a conversation about it before, but Andrew had already long forgotten about it, his memory fuzzy as ever.
Since then, every time he woke up before Thomas did, he’d take all the time in the World to soak in just a few more seconds of the silent solace in his company… Alone. Even if it meant selfishly ignoring the fact that monsters were probably roaming the perimeter of the academy, risking anybody in the school, along with themselves.
We can stay in just this once, it won’t change anything.
Although it really wouldn’t, Andrew knew deep down he didn’t have control over the way his mind played this game on them.
A bolt of lightning struck close to their building, a loud rumble of thunder crashing simultaneously overhead ripped Andrew from his sheepish psyche. Surprisingly, he didn’t jolt or move, and neither did Thomas. Only a shudder escaped his chapped lips, finally processing he was awake with the help from the late night showers that would begin tapping at their window, imitating a piano key-like melody. All while this ‘always guarded, fiery spirited fox’ slept soundly at his side.
It’s been awhile since either of them had a good night’s sleep, but Andrew knew Thomas was getting the harsher end of their recent predicaments.
A burning determination, and responsibility crept over the blond; a brief phase of braveness for the sake of Thomas to make sure that nothing happened to him in such a vulnerable state. It was the least he could do, especially if he was going to purposely have them skip going into the forest. He could watch out the window instead, protecting Thomas as everyone else would be torn to shreds.
At last, set on the idea, Andrew tried to sit up. Attempting to untangle his legs from Thomas’s, and raising his arms to swipe away metallic waves that had been itching his face for a minute. However, not a single muscle in his body decided to cooperate. He could almost hear the vines inside him laughing—mocking as he internally struggled, and fought for some form of strength. He should’ve known that being robbed of sleep for so many nights would give them nothing but unbearable sickness, nightmares, and ultimately—paralysis.
Indignantly staring a hole into the ceiling again, feeling this might be the most inconvenient thing that’s happened to him, despite everything, Andrew called out for the stars one more time; wishing, and asking them to please be on his side.
Knowing it would be too much to ask for, he already expected the sky to not answer his pleads. With that, he began to focus on working through each limb, because the last thing he wanted was for the stars to pity him like everyone else did. Starting with his fingers, he tried to curl them inwards towards his palms, and stretch them out again, breathing steadily. Although he knew this shouldn’t take but a few minutes to overcome, the process was becoming dreadfully eternal. He thought closing his eyes, and falling back asleep would have been much better than straining himself out of bed.
Through his efforts, his concentration was being shattered by a strange noise he’d been attempting to ignore ever since he woke up. He’d thought it was a soft snore, or more like a snuffle, coming from Thomas. It became more deafening, progressing into gurgling, agonal moans the more his senses intensely tuned in. His eyes darted across each corner of the pitch black room, because that couldn’t possibly be coming from Thomas. His chest heaved up, and down, breaths growing hitched in averse alarming trepidation… He was no longer attentive to his inertness, mind and body wandering in concern for the resonation of death around him.
Amongst his consternation, Andrew felt his skin crawl at the touch of icy, skeletal-like fingers creeping over his hand. It was far from real; far from Thomas’s usually warm, gentle hands. This does not belong to a living person, he thought. That alone caused his thoughts to race again because this cannot be happening now. A monster couldn’t have possibly slipped into their room unnoticed while they were sleeping…
Leisurely shifting his gaze to the right side of the shared bed, unnervingly perceiving the nonentity that lay next to him from his peripheral vision. He stared, unwillingly, frozen involuntarily, at what appeared to be—himself. It didn’t make sense, where is Thomas? It was like Thomas was replaced, Andrew being forced to look through a mirror that led to a parallel universe. In response, a small, jerky whimper was all that he could manage to choke up in an attempt to exclaim his unease with this uncanny encounter. Being forced to watch his copy groan, and reach out to him pathetically… As if desperate for someone to come, and save them from the brink of an unavoidable fate.
The splitting image of himself had a streak of tears rolling down, and staining his discolored, dark purple cheeks—with blue, scaly, and lifeless lips quivering in distress. It wasn’t long until Andrew could then feel the mattress become unnaturally damp, and warm underneath him. For what felt endless, the blond finally looked away from the defunct eyes of the deceased, which found themselves rolled to the back of its head. As far as his sight could drift while his neck remained paralyzed, Andrew detected claret matter that had seeped into the bedspread in the middle of him, and his apparition. Throat tightening, unsure where the vital fluid had ensured from, hoping it didn’t belong to him.
Hesitantly, he followed the wet, red strip.
Nausea would tear through him instantly, pulling at his abdomen abusively, as he gawked down at the open chest, and stomach of his alternate self. Skin, flesh, muscle… All shredded apart, hanging off either side of the body. The rib cage was exposed, ever so slightly, almost revealing the internal organs that were protected by the breastbone.
Blown out, glossed over pupils stung the more he watched this sickening scene, begging to hide behind fair lashes. Andrew forgot how to breathe, and all the blood that pumped and poured out of the corpse after taking a final breath itself was more than enough for him to slip out of his body. Yet, the curiosity of the last sliver of his molten copper irises shot back up… For what? Answers? He anticipated seeing the aftermath of what’s to come; the forest’s depiction of what it wanted to do with him.
He couldn’t tell if this was all apart of his misfortune, or karma masked as an unusual guilt playing at his heartstrings
What he saw this time didn’t look like him, but resembled a piece of who he was.
Dove.
Fight or flight kicked in, causing his body to jerk upwards from where gravity was forcibly keeping him pinned down. His hand surged up, slapping at his mouth to prevent himself from becoming ill. He screwed his eyelids shut, hoping that it was nothing more than a hallucination… Hoping it would vanish even if it wasn’t. Andrew gripped, and pulled at his hair—execrating, and damning the vines inside who didn’t let him forget they were still there. They were amused, and satisfied with his reaction, rewarding him with just another worsening headache.
“Andrew.”
Someone is calling for him… Maybe it was himself—in his head—trying to soothe his nerves. Perhaps the vines found a voice of their own? It was hard to tell who it belonged to, or where it was coming from. The pounding in his head, and ringing in his ears made everything muffled. Numb. Little by little, his panting slowed, coming down from the rush of it all. Not only did Andrew notice the whines that taunted him had ceased, a pair of hands were also grasped onto his shoulders… Struggling to ground him being worked up like he was.
His ears popped, eventually making out the choked out sobs craving to be acknowledged.
“Andrew.”
A stern, violent gasp, due to the hour, had Andrew cautiously snapping his head around, glancing over his shaking shoulders. He was going to confront this thing—beg for his sister—for himself; he wasn’t ready to be taken… But the phantasm wasn’t there. It had given back a worried, shaken up Thomas in return. An uneven exhale, a sigh of relief, Andrew exhaustedly dropped his face into the palm of his hands, elbows on knees slipping every now and again from the left over jitters.
Thomas’s arm came to drape over Andrew, the action bringing him back to reality. “It was just a bad dream,” he thought he’d heard him say. Which was funny, because they were already living in one, anyway.
Still, he was thankful for the distraction… Though, it didn’t last long as fear ripped through him another time. Thomas’s breath was against his temple, damp from the cold sweat. Calloused fingers peeled back golden strands to press a reassuring kiss at it without hesitation. The vines relieved him of the bile that never came, and introduced him to the butterflies that created a home in the garden of his viscera. He just about melted into it…
But, how can he believe this is really Thomas after all that? Is he for real… The real one?
“Is it really you…?” Andrew sobbed out. He had to ask.
“There will never be another me.”
“You don’t know that.”
Frantic, Andrew hurriedly crawled over Thomas, who tried to grab him by the waist in an attempt to keep him from running away, causing a ruckus. Nonetheless, he slipped from him too quickly. The blond tripped over their typical, unorganized room, slipping on a few loose pages from his notebook. But managing to make his way over to the lamp that sat at the corner of his desk, Andrew fumbled to switch it on, regretting it immediately after when the light much brighter than the moon blinded them both. A grimace covered his face when he turned to inspect the bed where he was just at.
The sheets were creased, yet dry and stainless. A shiver snaked down his spine, eyes horrifically dilated darting between his side, and Thomas’s. He would occasionally catch a glimpse of concern washing over his stardust painted face at the blond’s rising anxiety, and even though it pained him being the reason for such a reaction, it didn’t bother him as much as the chill, eerie presence that still lingered. It would settle into him in the form of a cold sadness that would leave him empty in the end, and predictably, it started to wane from his memory like a passing dream.
He forgot why he was standing. He couldn’t bear the suffocating silence that was nearly engulfed by the sounds of the downpour slapping at the window, the piano-like melody turning more into slamming drums ringing throughout his ears. It was like Mother Nature was trying to warn him of the vines, and wilted flowers stabbing through the seams of the wooden panes, but it was all just a blur out from his peripheral since his eyes were glued to Thomas’s.
“I just… Are you…”
Andrew was stumbling over his words, trying to catch, and swallow each breath that threatened to flee from his lungs. The poisonous ivy was snickering, and sharing jeering remarks, and telling the once beautiful flower’s ridiculing lies about him… He swore they were… Until he actually came to, realizing Thomas was speaking directly at him.
“I wouldn’t—”
“Please…” Andrew cut him off, shakily pointing a harsh—then turning apologetic—finger at Thomas. “Don’t lie to me…”
Thomas carefully observed Andrew’s next move, noticing how the blond would reach out for him, but then hesitate. A lump formed in his throat because he hated seeing him like this still… After everything. They needed one another the most right now, but the conniving forest had other plans to separate them; so he thought.
A stagnant, stuffy stillness aired over their heads, as if the boughs and branches from trees outside pushed on the roof above them, pressing the high ceiling down slowly to crush, and cave in on the two.
Or, forcing them closer.
Thomas took the chance, slinking his own freckled hand amidst them. An invitation… Okay, that nothing bad was going to come from just this.
“I would never,” He said assuredly.
Andrew no longer smelled the sweetness that he did before, but instead a profuse mildew, and mustiness molded his airways. The butterflies from before had turned into wasps, the powdery soil filling his lungs into rock, and Andrew himself into a marionette with how the vines pulled and manipulated him to take another step back from Thomas. He couldn’t tell apart from his mind and reality, and the leaves under his skin began to form like razor blades, cutting through his nerves each time he tried to withstand its noose.
But jittery, convulsing fingers managed to lunge forward, brushing Thomas’s.
The creases in their fingertips stuck naturally as if they’ve been waiting for this all along, a warm sweat from the subsiding shock allowing for an easy, almost desperate slide of their hands to fully and finally wove together; electricity shooting through them both at the touch.
Thomas moved to sit at the edge of the bed, slowly beginning to reel Andrew in now that he had him. He settled the blond in front of him, with legs resting on either side of Andrew’s. Their knees knocked together, the both of them clearing their throats, and fidgeting at the closeness.
“I’m here.”
There was an undoubtful confidence in his voice, trustworthy enough for Andrew to seemingly—at long last—believe him the way he ended up melting into Thomas. He kept his tone soft, avoiding the possibility the blond may grow wary again at any given moment. But in the midst of it all, Thomas thought bringing that pale, delicate hand that was capable of things beyond what he could decipher to his sun-kissed cheek—which he did, pressing into it like the perfect mold—would be more proof of how… There… He was.
Just like the ceiling, it felt as if the walls started to close in on them, as well. The ivy inching its way closer around their necks, planning on choking them, then eating them alive after ripping their limbs apart piece-by-piece. But the rainfall settled back into its hypnotic melody like before, and neither of them cared for what could happen next, so long as they were together.
Head going blank, and keeping eye contact with Andrew’s own glossed over ones, Thomas’s head turned slightly so his lips were placed right at the sensitive part of the blond’s inner wrist. He could easily feel the rising heat, and blood rushing through his veins. There, he gifted a few small pecks, and snuck in some open mouthed kisses as he couldn’t help but crave the taste. Flipping his hand over, without pulling away, Thomas’s bottom lip would tug and pull down on one of the many scars he was solely responsible for as he trailed up to meet Andrew’s knuckles. Not too wet, or daring, but enough so that he could fulfill this hunger.
This longing.
“I promise.”