Work Text:
Thomas has had enough. Of everything. The silence is deafening as he lifts the metal blade up to his wrist, almost actually laughing at the scene. Cutting himself in a bathroom? That’s something no one ever saw coming, not even himself. It’s a spontaneous decision, it has to be. He’s going to tell himself that until he believes it.
The bathroom is the public one at work; anybody could just walk in at any given moment, and the thought of that makes him hesitate for a second, just a millisecond. It’s not enough to stop him though, people don’t come in here frequently enough for the notion to deter him from what he’s already set off to do.
Elbow to wrist? Or was it wrist to elbow? He couldn’t remember, but what does it matter? The cut would be the same anyway, right? No matter where you start and end, the result would be the same. And anyway, if that fails, he could always press deeper, or maybe try somewhere else.
The slight sting of the first draw snaps him back to his senses, and he flinches, digging the blade deeper into his arm. Out of instinct, he drops the tool, and it makes a loud noise against the tiles of the floor. It’s one of the box cutters, the cheap type of razors that you can buy at any convenience store without anyone being suspicious.
He harshly pulls his sleeve over the droplets of blood starting to form on his skin and hastily picks up the blade on the ground. Unlocking the door and practically running out of the bathroom, he promptly rams into Aaron Burr.
“Agh, Thomas!” Aaron backs up, but not in time to prevent slamming into the taller man. He’s about to chastise him about how running in the building is a safety hazard, but he sees Thomas’s expression before he can utter a word.
Thomas just stares at him, and Aaron speaks up after the initial shock of seeing the utterly dejected and hopeless look on his coworker’s face.
“Are you alright?” He questions, making sure to keep his tone gentle in fear of breaking the man more than he already seems to be.
“Yeah, yeah.” Thomas smiles, but the edges must look frayed because Aaron tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. Thomas sighs and resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Why’d you ask if you weren’t going to accept my answer anyway?”
“Don’t know.” He looks taken aback by the question, but goes with it anyway. “Maybe because it’s the polite thing to do?”
“Polite doesn’t always mean effective or logical.” Thomas sighs, his arm still throbbing. He didn’t get a good look at the injury, mainly because he was in a hurry to leave and his vision was obscured by his tears either way. Did he slice deeper than he meant to when his hand slipped? He winces as another jolt of pain shoots through his arm. He can feel the damp stickiness of his wrist pressing against the inside of the sleeve of his magenta hoodie.
“What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, frowning. He scans the frame of the other man but doesn’t see anything noticeable. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” Thomas narrows his eyes, and crosses his arms across his chest, trying to bring his left arm closer to him without being conspicuous. He needed to make sure that the blood wasn’t seeping through.
“Then why are you acting like that?” Aaron persists, not breaking off eye contact. People say that the eyes of a person can reveal the truth, but he can’t tell solely from staring into Thomas’s dark eyes.
“Acting like what?” Thomas challenges, averting his eyes just for a moment to glance at his sleeve.
Shit. There was a dark stain that stood out clearly against the purple hues of the fabric. It was turned his direction though, and hopefully Aaron wouldn’t notice a spot so small.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.” Aaron replies, stepping closer to Thomas. “All jittery, like you’re trying to hide something.”
“Stop prying into my life, then. You know everything you’re saying just makes you look bad, right?” Thomas smirks, satisfied with Aaron’s precarious words.
“I’m just worried about you. Can’t a guy care about his coworker?”
“Yeah, that’s acceptable, but there’s nothing wrong.” Thomas snaps, turning to walk away. “I have to go now, if you don’t mind.”
“Fine.” Aaron says after a few seconds. “See you, then.” He says, dropping the topic. For now.
Thomas sighs in relief and trots away, speeding up just a bit so he can get to his office before anyone else can stop him in the hallway. He needs to patch up his wound and change his attire before anybody realizes what he’s done.
The thing is, he almost makes it. Almost succeeds in slipping into his office without being noticed. Alexander just had to show up seconds before he can reach the door, he just had to show up. Had to do so and shove a bunch of documents into Thomas’s arms, the pages for the upcoming meeting. That was dandy and all, but he had to extend his arm to collect the papers, uncovering all of the evidence of his little secret to his sworn enemy.
He moment Alexander lets go of the pages to transfer them to Thomas’s hands, he grasps the other man’s arm as fast and as firmly as he can.
“What is this?” He practically whispers, not even hesitating to ask for permission before yanking up the sleeve, quickly but carefully as to not irritate the wound.
Thomas could’ve stopped him, he could’ve yelled at Alexander right there and then, because it’s his own prerogative to do so anyway. But he doesn’t, and he lets his rival take in the sight and just stare. Alex looks up at Thomas after a couple of seconds, locking eyes. Neither of them speak.
“Wha- when- why?” Alexander stutters, trying to ask the question he wants the answer to the most, though the truth is he wants all the answers equally as much.
“It’s none of your concern.” Thomas whispers, looking away and down at his shoes. The hold on his arm and wasn’t loosening, so there was nothing he could do except stand there with his arm exposed, the cold hair making the injury sting slightly.
“Thomas.” He says, his voice cracking at the last syllable. Thomas snapped his head up at the sound, gazing into Alex’s glossy eyes. He suddenly felt terrible, knowing that he is the reason for Alex’s pain. He wants to cry all of a sudden, the familiar constricting of his throat being a sign of that.
Out of nowhere, Alexander releases his grip only to pull the taller man into a hug, wrapping his arms tightly around his body. It takes Thomas a while to process what is happening, but he responds by returning the gesture.
His wrist is probably staining the back of Alexander’s white hoodie, but he doesn’t care. He’s too out of it to care about what will happen now that Alex knows about his recent activity. Maybe that should be a sign to break out of the embrace and let his coworker know that he wasn’t feeling well and most definitely still needed medical attention, having needing that for quite a while now, but he doesn’t bother saying anything. Let Alexander figure that out for himself, because Thomas couldn’t care less about his health either way.
Alex finally pulls out of the hug after what felt like hours, tears still in his eyes. He sniffs and takes a good look at the man in front of him, taking in the glazed over expression. He’s seen this before, when John accidentally cut himself with a shard of a broken glass bottle, which ended up with him getting stitches from Eliza. He catches Thomas before he can hit the ground.
The lighting in the room is dim, but it’s still far too bright for Thomas’s still adjusting eyes. The light sensitivity typically accompanies headaches, so it isn’t surprising when Thomas finds himself waking up to a terrible throb in his head.
He squints around the room, soaking in the unfamiliar sight of a place that isn’t his own. It’s an office, but definitely not his, or anybody else’s he’s ever been to.
“Hey.” A voice calls out gently from behind him, causing him to turn around and search for the around of the sound. Alex is sitting on the ground beside the couch with his back pressed against the wall, while balancing his laptop on his legs which were stretched out in front of him. He is wearing his glasses, which are reflecting the dull glow of his laptop screen. He looks extremely exhausted, and Thomas pities him.
“Feeling better now?” He asks, his voice raspy and his tired eyes showing just how in need he is of a good night’s sleep.
“Yeah.” Thomas answers, all the details of today coming back to him. Or yesterday. Last time he remembered, it was evening, so it must be around nighttime or early morning by now. He finally remembers to look down at his arm, which was now covered in white bandages. He isn’t sure if he got stitches, but then again he isn’t sure whether the laceration even needed stitches. That’s what he gets for not paying attention and addressing the situation as soon as he could. “Thank you. For helping me, I mean.”
“Well, I wasn’t going to just let you bleed out on the floor, even though you’re still my rival.” He chuckles, trying to lighten up the mood. His statement wasn’t exactly the funny type, though. “It wasn’t too deep, thankfully. My medical skills are complete shit, so it was a good thing that it wasn’t bad enough for me to have to get someone else to patch you up.”
Thomas nods, grateful that his secret isn’t spread outside of them two yet. He runs his hand across his hair, sighing. His head still hurts just as much as it did when he awoke and he feels groggier than he’s ever before. Going back to sleep would be the best option right now, but he really doesn’t want to let Alex keep on writing, because he’ll probably pull an all nighter if he does. The man never goes a week without missing out on at least an entire night of sleep.
“Oh, it’s 1:26 am, in case you were wondering. You’ve been out for about 6 hours.” Alex informs him quickly. “You should head back to sleep, there’s still a long time before morning.”
“You should, too.” Thomas says, still watching Alexander’s every move as his fingers dash across the keyboard. They stop moving for a moment, and Alex looks up at Thomas.
“I need to get a few things done.” He says, looking back down at his screen and continuing his typing frenzy. “Plus, someone’s got to look over you.”
“I’m a grown man, I don’t need a babysitter.” Thomas laughs, tossing the single pillow on the couch toward Alex. “You need the rest more than I do.” He says, getting up from the cushions.
“No, no, you need to rest.” Alex sets his laptop down on the wooden floor and heads over to Thomas, pushing him back down to a lying position.
“So do you.” Thomas retaliates, trying to get back up again. “If you’re going to make me sleep, then you have to do so as well.”
Alexander groans and rolls his eyes, climbing into the couch that was far too small to fit the both of them into it. Thomas pulls him closer, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s torso. He could see the stain where he smeared his own blood into Alex’s hoodie. He closes his eyes and tries not to reminisce the events of yesterday evening.
He suddenly jolts up, startling Alex as well. Alex turns about and looks at him in concern. “Is something wrong?” He asks, his frown deepening.
“No, nothing, it’s just that I remembered I had the blade in my pocket…” He trailed off, reaching into the front pocket of his hoodie. It wasn’t there, and he almost starts panicking again.
“Oh, the box cutter? Don’t worry, I have it with me.” Alex says, walking over to his desk to pull open the drawer. He holds it up so Thomas can see. “I’ll be holding on to that for now, so there’s nothing to worry about.” He says before slipping back into the couch with Thomas. Thomas just nods, grateful that Alexander took care of that for him. He doesn’t trust himself right now, so it was for the best. He closes his eyes and tries to focus on the dull sound of Alexander’s heartbeat, comforting him in ways he never thought was possible.
They spend the rest of the morning like that, sleeping peacefully until it was time to get back to work. After all, if Alexander can handle living off caffeine, Thomas can do so as well. And if Alexander can show up to work even when he’s severely ill, Thomas can do so after an injury as well. It’s a matter of time before things get better again.