This is a oneshot dedicated to tomorrow, "To Write Love On Her Arms" Day. TWLOHA, for those of you who don't know, is a non-profit organization that helps those who're suffering depression and addiction. Writing the word "love" on the arms of friends and family shows they're not alone with their struggles and that there is a light at the end of it all. I apologize if the material is sensitive.

Also, I do not own Tommy Joe Ratliff or Adam Lambert, and I never shall.

His hands work effortlessly, wrapping gauze around the pale wrist and up to the thick curve of the forearm. His brown eyes are glazed with sadness and concentration as he tears the strip, tucking it neatly into his lover's bandaging. He doesn't understand it, and he doubts he ever truly will. Why…? That's really his only question at this point. Why? Why would he do something like this? Sure, the touring's been hard, the paps have been obnoxious and the media's a bitch, but none of it is reason enough to…

He sighs, lacing his fingers with those that are longer, smooth and gentle. His are thin, callused and toned from playing basses and guitars for so many years. His hair falls into his face and he feels the sting of tears in his eyes. His lover reaches over, tucking a finger gently under his chin and lifting his head. He has no shame in letting the tears fall down his face. This is what his lover has done to him. Reduced him to tears for such a selfish, foolish action.

Why, Adam? Why would you hurt yourself? he wants to say. But he doesn't, because he's too busy swallowing the lump in his throat and pulling his face away from Adam's soft grasp. He lets go of Adam's hand as he stands from the toilet seat, turning and walking out of the bathroom. He hears Adam stand from his seat on the edge of the bath tub, and the footsteps that follow him down the hallway. His chest aches as he feels Adam's arms wrap easily around his waist.

He wants to break down at this point, but he doesn't. Adam rests his head on Tommy's shoulder. Isn't this all a little backwards? Shouldn't Adam be the one crying? Crying for having been found out and crying for hurting his baby? Shouldn't Tommy be the one comforting Adam? Why is this backwards? Why can't it be right? Why, Adam, did you cut yourself?

"Are you mad at me?" Adam asks, his voice soft. Tommy feels wetness against his ear and understands now. Adam is crying. Adam is upset about this. It's not some sick or twisted thing that he'd imagined. Maybe… Maybe Adam won't do this again…

"Absolutely." Tommy mutters, his throat quivering with sobs that challenge him, threatening to tumble from his lips and out onto the floor, only to bounce and hit walls and sting Adam's ears. Maybe then… Adam would break down, too.

"Can you forgive me?" Adam asks, his tone gentle, sorrowful. It's making Tommy's heart break in his chest and his shoulders tremble with a sob that is silenced by his closed lips. He wants to forgive Adam. He probably will… But he's going to be out with people, and he's going to see those pale marks once they've healed, and it's going to kill him. It's going to kill him knowing that Adam did that to himself when Tommy could have been there for him— when he should have been there… Why, Adam?

"Yes." Tommy turns in Adam's arms, looking up into pained blue eyes glistening with tears. "Yes." He says again, his voice shaking with sobs as more tears drizzle like rain down his face. Yes, he can. Yes, he will.

Adam smiles softly, but it looks out of place with tears and sadness in his eyes. Tommy reaches up, palming Adam's face in the curve of his hand and, standing on his tip toes, he kisses Adam's lips softly. No moans, no hair pulls, no tightening of the arms. So sweet, so chaste. So sorrowful. So pained and angered and yet so full of heartbreakingly warm love. Love.

Love.

Tommy pulls away from the kiss, standing flat footed again before turning and going to the coffee table of the living room. He leans down, grabbing a Sharpie, the color of Adam's eyes, and turns back towards his lover. Adam's face is confused and he has a small frown on it, but Tommy walks back and takes Adam's bandaged arm in his free hand. He pulls the cap off with his teeth and writes a simple word. A four lettered word.

Love.

Adam glances down at it, his expression showing that of his breaking heart of regret and he looks back to Tommy, pulling him into another kiss, tears falling from both of their eyes. Adam takes the pen from Tommy's hand and pulls away with a gentle pop of their lips. He takes Tommy's arm and copies the word. The tip tickles Tommy's skin but he doesn't make a sound and he doesn't move until Adam caps the pen and tosses it aside, for then he cups the black haired man's face into his palms and kisses him again.

Love. This is their promise.