Author's Note: More Working in that AU of mine because...well, because it's fun. Also, introducing a new character, Jackie. Because Tom needs some attention and because making him uncomfortable is fun. There will be more with her because she's fun to write. Don't like it? Deal with it. Also, Tom is the most amazing cyclops ever. Just don't say that to his face. He might break yours. Also, SEBS! He's back! Appearing courtesy of my friend Faintly Falling. He belongs to her, but I just borrow him. Got this idea at my friend's mother's wedding.
Tom wasn't making much of an effort to socialize with the people he was quietly observing from his seat at one of the numbered tables. Number six he thought it might have been. Does six have any kind of meaning? He wasn't looking at the little sign beside the centerpiece, didn't care enough, and he hadn't taken the time to try and remember it when Sebs had told him where they were sitting. He'd just followed along quietly as he had for this whole "adventure". He was here to be an observer more than a participant.
Coming here hadn't even been his idea anyway. Sebs had been invited to some wedding by someone in his office that he hardly knew (Tom was surprised he'd even accepted the invitation). They were one of those people that invited a thousand of their closest friends and a few strangers off the street to their social functions, and for all intents and purposes Tom was the latter. A stranger amongst the invited. They were of the sort of people that made Tom want to beat their skulls in for being so careless with those they chose to associate with. How careless can you be? No one wanted quality relationships anymore. Just quantity that they could fret away without so much as a second thought. It'd be a lie to say it didn't offend him.
Well, be that as it may, Sebs had somehow talked him into coming with the prospect of free food and talking back and forth about the interesting people that were bound to populate this spectacle of human interaction, which for a while they had. It had also helped that Tom had a soft spot for pretty celebrations, which the actual wedding had been. Very traditional, lots of white. And it was outside too.
The situation had offered Tom the rare opportunity to wear sunglasses, nice, black, reflective ones that covered the bandage he'd put over the hole in his face. Large enough to cover the gap, but small enough for the shades to cover it up. The kind one could pick up on any street corner of New York City. Had one not known any better he would have looked just like a "normal person" as Sebs had put it, and Tom genuinely enjoyed the lack of stares he received throughout the day, though the few he did receive seemed particularly harsh. Maybe it was just a wedding guest thing. Perhaps they could smell his lack of invitation. Didn't have the proper attire or something like that. Heck if Tom knew one way or the other about what was proper at weddings.
He couldn't even remember the last time he'd been to anything social of this magnitude let alone something social at all. People don't like having me around. Well, something social that was organized anyway. It had certainly been years since his last official "gathering", but it would be some kind of miracle if the man could remember how many. He hardly remembered what day it was anymore.
Perhaps it was a Wednesday? Thursday? He didn't know, and he didn't care.
Still, the day had been a lot like one of those fairytale weddings people talked about in those gossipy magazines that the man would occasionally skim the covers of when buying the paper or groceries. Sickeningly sweet and beautiful. Perfect smiles and gaudy gowns. Fake. Whatever it was all really for, Sebs had thought that perhaps all of this perky, normal people, stuff would make Tom feel better since his moods had been hanging lower than usual.
It didn't cheer him up though. It was only reminding him of what he was certain he'd never obtain, and it was making Tom sick in the pit of his stomach as he sat at the table, watching people mingle and chatter like birds. Such a horrible din they all made with their huffing and puffing about one thing or the other. Even if Tom had had anything to say to them he wouldn't know the first thing about presenting it to such an audience. They weren't his type. Not by a long shot. They'd be able to tell that he wasn't one of them. He was sure of it.
Tom had pushed his plate of appetizer type foods toward the center of the table so as to make more room for his elbows to rest. Elbows on the table. He'd always been told it was rude, but he wasn't about to compromise his comfort for some stupid rule. Etiquette be damned. No one was watching. No one was going to. He really didn't think anyone cared to anymore. They were all adults here. "Adults" is a term I use loosely. It'd probably be ruder to point out someone being rude than the "rude" act itself. People had such interesting rules Tom thought, but nowadays he tended to keep his thoughts to himself.
Tom had picked at the grapes and tried some of the cheese, but he wasn't feeling it. Typical fancy food spread one could eat with their hands with crackers and dips and cold cuts made to look like more than they were and a whole list of things that Tom could care less about. The wine that was out had been good, Tom would know, but he'd been put on some new pills with a name he couldn't pronounce (If I don't know what it is I don't want it in me.) for his moods, and until he got used to them alcohol made him feel light headed and nauseous and all manner of unpleasant things. He'd opted to pass on drinking to avoid such side effects, though a drink did sound awfully nice with his nerves being in that state they were. He could not get his nervous energy out so he drummed his fingers on the table anxiously.
The table was empty of people at the moment, and even Sebs had gotten up to chat with his coworkers in an aggravatingly civil manner. Doing the dance of the domestic man. One foot here and another foot there. Two steps to the left and jump through the hoop. He was really quite good at it. Tom was alone with no one to talk to, no taste for alcohol, and a heavy weight in his stomach made of nerves and a strong feeling of not belonging. Long story short, he wasn't having a good time. He doubted anyone else was either but for different reasons, and they were better at faking happiness than he was. Rather impressive. Slowly he folded his arms over his chest, ceasing the drumming, and then he rested them on the table before placing his chin on his hands. He wondered for a moment if he could just fall asleep he could go through this whole experience unconscious and wake up when it was all over and done with. Painless. Or he hoped it would be anyway. Alas, it was to be nothing but a fantasy.
The man had just about nodded off, his shades helping block out the light coming from the large windows (his back was too the light as well, which helped), when he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Years spent under ground listening for possible invaders to his underground prison had allowed him to sleep soundly but with awareness (or complete ignorance) when he wanted, and he perked right up wishing he'd just allowed himself to fall into a heavier sleep.
"Excuse me, anyone sitting here?" The voice belonged to a young woman he'd spied Sebs talking to earlier in the same overtly polite and patronizing way as the other people, but whose name Tom was still in the dark about.
He didn't know why he noticed, but she was pretty he figured. In the traditional kind of way. None of the spray tan and hair bump silliness woman had going nowadays. Tom always felt like such and old timer when it came to his tastes, but he was over and done with giving a damn what people thought of his interests. I like what I like, and if you don't like it it's not my problem. Dressed in a blue dress, hair up in some sort of fancy do, and make up on the more natural side, Tom thought she looked rather smart. Clean and well kept. Definitely dressed for a wedding. Pretty without outshining the bride. He suddenly felt quite self-conscious about his own appearance. Sebs had picked something out for him since he'd been convinced that Tom wouldn't have been able to pick out something "presentable" himself. He'd been annoyed initially, but now he was grateful he'd let Sebs deal with that aspect of his appearance. He had other, more pressing, issues to be worrying about.
"You listening?" she continued, voice a little louder with hint of persistence but not annoyance.
"Huh, oh, yeah, sorry. Have a seat." Tom gestured to the chair beside him his movement jerkier than he would have liked. The woman smiled, a silent thank you, as she sat down. She immediately removed her shoes, heels, and placed her feet flat down on the carpet of the reception hall and flexing her toes slightly. Tom had never really understood why someone would bother making an uncomfortable shoe. True, he liked how heels looked on a woman, but weren't shoes supposed to be both elegant and functional? Women's fashion. How very bizarre.
"Man, this socializing is hard work," the woman laughed looking back up at Tom from her shoes obviously being more comfortable in the area of communicating with strangers than her tablemate. Tom grinned in response, the beginnings of a reply working its way to his mouth but never quite making it. He knew exactly what she meant. However, the woman remained silent, staring at Tom for a few agonizing seconds, which caused him to clam up. "Ummm…your sunglasses are a bit crooked."
"They are?" Immediately Tom's hand flew to his face, his bad side more specifically, and the woman had been right. "Oh, sorry, hadn't noticed," Tom laughed quietly, adjusting the shades until he was satisfied, keeping his head turned at an awkward angle as he did so. He hoped she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. "Must have moved…you know…before." Again he tried to laugh, but it sounded too pained to pull off good humor, and he silenced himself.
"I see." Tom winced. He had yet to hear someone use that phrase genuinely. It didn't help that the woman was giving him a skeptical look. She was the kind of person who could rip you open with their eyes and see just what your angle is. The kind of people Tom found himself being wary of. Almost like they know. Had it not been an obvious sign of discomfort Tom would have squirmed, but he was determined to keep himself as calm as he could and did not fidget. " We're inside now though. Shouldn't you take those off?"
Tom felt panic replace his interest in talking and clenched his jaw tight. Lie, lie…he needed a lie and quick. It wasn't exactly easy or desirable to tell someone you just met that you're wearing sunglasses to hide your missing eye that way stabbed out by the woman you kidnapped. That would just be a massive case of sharing too much. Besides, it wasn't like he was going to see her again. She'd never know any better.
"I have sensitive eyes," he lied effortlessly. "That's why I've got these shades on." The woman didn't look anywhere close to buying it given the way her mouth twisted and eyes were still fixed on his glasses.
"Uh huh…" she said drawing out the sound more than would be considered normal. "You know I saw that Band-Aid you're sporting. Kinda hard to hide that from someone sitting right in front of you, especially with crooked shades." Tom felt his stomach tighten to where he could tell he'd sucked his gut in a little. Guess he hadn't moved fast enough for her to not notice earlier. Dammit.
"I, well…" he began; putting on his kicked dog face. It had served him well in the past, why not now? "I didn't want anyone to notice, and I…you know."
"Don't want anyone thinking you're weird?"
"Yeah…you said socializing tires you out. Well, it tires me out too. I'm really not in the mood to have people stare." Tom folded his arms on the table again, turning away from the woman, blind side as far away as he could get it. The woman brought her hand to her mouth for a moment as she tried to think of something.
"I don't think it's weird." Tom picked up his head slightly, looking over the edge of his glasses and catching the woman's gaze with his own. "I think it's unique. Makes you stand out."
"That's nice of you, but I don't want to stand out," the man replied somberly, moving his mouth as little as he could while still speaking loudly enough to be heard. "It gets me nothing but trouble."
"Oh, I really doubt that." Tom had half a mind to tell her 'you have no idea', but he opted to just breathe out of his nose awkwardly as a response. "Now, c'mon, lemme see. It can't be all that bad can it? Besides, I like being able to look someone in the eyes when I talk to them." The woman leaned forward, and Tom moved the same distance back, glaring at her through the dark lenses. "You always this difficult?" Tom nodded his head, grinning in childish victory. "Fine. If you're going to play like a kid, I'll play like a kid."
Before Tom could make a witty retort he saw a hand coming at his face, and he flinched awkwardly because it went too fast for him to adjust to the depth of the reach. Just as quickly the room became a whole lot brighter. Tom winced like he was in pain and looked away again.
"Oh, ha ha…very clever. You give me those back. It's not nice to take people's things," he frowned, reaching a hand out blindly as if it was going to be that simple. He opened his hand as if this woman would just drop the sunglasses in his palm and be on her way.
"You? I haven't met anyone named 'you' before," the woman replied mockingly.
"You didn't tell me your name."
"And you didn't tell me yours."
"Tom."
"What?"
"It's Tom. My name is Tom," he repeated, voice sterner than before.
"Alright, Tom. I'll give you your glasses. No need to get fussy."
"I'm not fussy, and I still don't know your name," Tom said defiantly, turning to face the woman in the blue dress whom he was starting to really dislike. Shame, he still thought she was kind of pretty, but he never did take kindly to those that irked him no matter what else it was he felt toward them. My taste in women seems to border on dangerous.
"Well, look who decided to make eye contact," the woman smiled. Tom just frowned as he realized it was too late to look away again. Score one point for the opposition. "That's more like it. I don't see what the big deal was. You've got a nice enough face. Not bad at all really. It was hard to tell with these big, dumb, shades on." She waved the sunglasses around in an idle gesture, but Tom didn't follow them. He just stared at her.
Tom sat in silence for a few moments. Had that been a compliment? "I…thanks, umm…"
"Jackie."
"Yeah, thanks, Jackie…" Tom shifted awkwardly, but didn't get up. It was his seat after all, and Jackie was still looking at him like he was about to tell her something important. A searching look that made Tom want to check behind him even though he knew nothing was there. He hadn't heard anything. "Looking for something?"
"No, just at you," she said, stare becoming less harsh though no less apparent. "Would you mind if I asked you what happened?"
"I would," Tom replied, voice picking up its edge once more as he became defensive. Just because he'd been complimented didn't mean he was about to unload his more personal history on this now named stranger.
"Alright, then I won't ask," Jackie shrugged. Tom felt suspicious of the ease with which she dropped the subject, but he didn't push it. Pushing his luck very rarely turned out in his favor.
"I still want my sunglasses."
"Fair enough, but if you don't mind me giving a suggestion, even if you do…indulge me." Tom made a face, but made no verbal protest. He had enough sense to know that he was going to be told regardless of anything he said or did, and he wasn't rude enough to just get up and leave. Unfortunately. Besides, if nothing else he could ignore what she said and just appreciate her looks. Grating on his nerves or not he'd already admitted to himself that he thought she was nice to look at. Tuning her out would be easy enough. Just sit up, keep your eyes focused, open, and pretend to be interested.
"You shouldn't wear the shades so much. That's an interesting eye color you got there. People might actually want to see that," Jackie concluded, placing the sunglasses down on the table. Tom had to bite the inside of his mouth to keep himself from making a stupid surprised noise. "And you really need to drop the attitude, Tom. You're just a bit too cute to pull it off."
Cute? Had she just said cute?
Tom tapped the table absently and looked away. "Yeah…fine."
He caught a glimpse of her getting up and leaving, but didn't even muster a "see ya" or a "bye". He didn't even try. Compliments or not that had been irritating. Who was she to say stuff like that? Who was she to be nice to him? She had no idea…couldn't have any idea. He hadn't told her. He grabbed his sunglasses, but didn't put them on but rather fidgeted with them before placing them back on the table. Maybe she had been serious. Maybe she hadn't been making fun of him. Maybe she meant it. And maybe pigs will fly. Then again she could be very clever with her teasing. Either way Tom wasn't sure whether or not to put the glasses back on or to leave them on the table so they just hung there in limbo as he held laid his hands on them lightly, curling and uncurling his fingers as he thought.
"You get something on them?"
Tom practically jumped off his chair, but turned his head to see Sebs standing over him. "Oh, it's just you…" he sighed with practiced boredom. "You should know better than to sneak up on me like that," he added sounding both hurt and angry.
"Me? Sneak up on you? That's a good one." Tom pouted and shrugged his shoulders dejectedly. "Saw you talking to Jackie…" Tom didn't move. "I think she likes you," Sebs said jokingly giving Tom a friendly nudge. He knew how awkward Tom was around girls and enjoyed making him squirm when he could.
"She thinks I'm cute," Tom replied flatly. Face not even giving so much as an inch when it came to emotion but head tilting slightly as if to suggest some kind of response to the statement.
"She what?"
"She thinks I'm cute," Tom repeated, but this time he looked almost…like he was smiling. Sebs thought it looked more like a smirk. "Cute. Can you believe that?"
"I guess I'll have to," Sebs laughed. Tom didn't hear him. He wasn't listening. Was this something normal people did? If it was it was definitely confusing. Then again, women were confusing already. Whatever it was he wasn't going to let it bother him. That had been weird, but surely it was just a one-time thing. Most people that talked to him only did so once anyway. Still, Tom did not put the shades back on. He couldn't say exactly why, or rather he could, he just didn't. Forgot they were even there.
Time passed slowly, and eventually the more upbeat dance music had started to fade into the typical wedding slow songs as the sunlight began to hide itself behind the horizon. Mushy, emotional, and driving Tom up the wall. Couples danced and whispered to each other in the awkwardly lit room. Their feet scuffing the dance floor from time to time. Part of Tom really appreciated the sight. It was pretty, but the other side of him felt nothing but negativity. Wanting to call out when people made mistakes. Make snide remarks. Watching them dancing away as if all they needed was one another…it was painful, and Tom had had just about enough of it. He was going to nag Sebs about wanting to go when the music stopped playing.
However, the DJ, some portly older fellow Tom had always imagined wedding DJs to be, was asking people to clear the dance floor and walking out onto it himself, microphone in hand. What is this?
"Alright, I think it's time we had a little fun."
Oh God.
"We've all been watching you lovely couples dancing out here tonight, and of course there is the handsome and the lovely bride and groom." The DJ flashed the newlyweds something that Tom would have described as a "sleazy salesman" grin before turning his eyes back to the crowd before him. He felt himself force back a gag. "That's all well and good, but I think the single people could use some fun too."
There were a few loud (obnoxious) hollers from the crowd, obviously some more intoxicated than others, but Tom remained silent. Whatever this guy was pulling he wasn't having any of it. This day had been enough of a trial. There was no need to put himself on center stage.
"Now, let's see, let's see…any single ladies out there tonight? Don't be shy, and come on down." Tom gritted his teeth and tried to keep his sulking internal, but a quick poke in the ribs from Sebs alerted him that his emotions were more obvious than he would have liked. Sebs was saying something to him, but Tom had already tuned him out again and was looking out across the floor. There'd been a volunteer. He hadn't noticed, and was reluctantly curious.
"Ah, why don't you come on down and tell us your name."
Tom felt himself tense up as the woman stepped out from the group of tables where she had been sitting. He forced himself as far back into his chair as was possible and looked down at his feet. By now Sebs had given up on making Tom more sociable and was quietly and politely watching the DJ.
"The name's Jackie," the woman smiled. Tom looked up hoping it was some other Jackie, but he was out of luck. Even making brief eye contact as she looked out at the people at their tables.
"Jackie, eh? Nice name. You dance with anyone tonight?"
"A few people."
"Slow dance?"
"Oh, god no," she laughed. Harmless banter continued between Jackie and the portly DJ, and Tom ground his teeth and prayed this would all pass quickly.
"Well, I think we're going to remedy that little slow dance problem of yours. You're a lovely, single, lady, and I'm certain people have told you that you could have your pick of the men if you wanted."
"Only when people are being nice to me," Jackie injected with more of an edge than Tom had been expected to hear, and he looked back over at her. She had made a face. A quick one. Most people probably hadn't even noticed it, but Tom had.
"Anyway…" the DJ drawled trying to smooth over the brief silence. "Tonight you literally get your pick of the single men here. So go ahead and pick whoever you want."
"I think I have someone," Jackie replied, giving Tom a jokingly threatening look. He bit his tongue and shook his head, a flutter of panic in his stomach. She couldn't be serious. Could she? The threat in her looked shifted into pride as she turned back to the DJ, and Tom felt his heart drop down into the pit of his stomach. This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. Sebs noticed Tom's discomfort and gave his friend a curious look, and Tom responded with a pained look of his own. Sebs had no way of truly understanding then, but as Jackie walked by some other willing guys, pretending to assess them before moving onto the next, he had the time to piece together what was happening for the most part. Tom had placed his sunglasses back on and was avoiding the eyes of other people who were also catching on.
"You clever bastard," Sebs grinned. "She's coming to get you. You dog," he teased. Tom groaned and buried his face into is arms.
"She's coming to mess with me. It's not funny."
"No, it's pretty funny."
"Shut up."
"That's no way to talk to a lady." Tom picked up his head at the sudden intrusion of a non-masculine voice. He bared his teeth defensively, but managed to turn it into some kind of a smile. He looked at Jackie who was looking a strange mixture of confident, happy, and annoyed. Maybe it was the way her hands were resting on her hips, but Tom felt that she meant business.
"Oh, so you're a lady now?" Tom arched his brows, hoping the insult would put her off.
"Yep, all lady. Now c'mon big boy, these people want to see some people dance. And didn't I tell you that the shades don't work for you?"
"I can't…uh, my back's bothering me. Old injury. Can't do anything about it. So…sorry." Tom wasn't lying completely. After the Incident, he'd retained some mild back pain, but at this point it wasn't something a little painkiller medicine and some good old toughing it out couldn't fix. Still, occasionally he liked to play it up for just a bit of sympathy.
"Don't be such a baby," Jackie said, grabbing Tom's arm and pulling him up with more force than he'd been expecting, and he stood himself up so as to keep balanced and not flat on his face. That was a big mistake. Now even more people could see him, and it looked like he'd accepted the "invitation". He was too caught off guard to notice as Jackie removed his shades again, reaching past him to set them down on table six.
The DJ brought the microphone to his mouth and started to talk before Tom had the time to strangle him with the long wire. "And there's our lucky bachelor. Jackie why don't you bring him over here so we can all get acquainted." Tom shot Sebs a helpless glance, but his friend looked far too amused, and Tom's look became more of a resentful glare than a helpless plea. Help me, God dammit! However, his silent protests went unnoticed, and before he knew it he was standing next to the DJ, stuck between him and Jackie and in view of everyone in the room. Uncomfortable would have been an understatement at that point.
"So, you like pirates, eh?" The DJ's voice sounded different closer up where Tom could hear him speaking and not just the projected sound from the speakers. He was so taken by this realization, and it took him a few seconds to realize that the man had made a joke. A joke at Tom's expense. My expense.
Strangling him with the wire from his microphone once again became a viable option in Tom's mind. However, Jackie made some kind of silent signal that Tom only caught out of the corner of his eye, and the DJ mouthed a quick sorry, taking the mic from his face for but a few rare seconds. Jackie smiled just as quickly, but Tom only acknowledged it somewhere in the back of his mind. She'd stood up for him, but his attention was still on the offending party.
You'd better be sorry, fatass.
"So, you got a name, champ?"
"Well, it isn't 'Champ'," Tom replied dryly still feeling sore but less inclined to murder, and everyone laughed. He looked out at the people feeling half shocked to death. They thought he was funny? "It's Tom," he continued, voice a few clicks louder and projecting more clearly through the speakers as Mr. DJ moved to microphone close to him. As he did so Tom turned his gaze on the older fellow again, some of his anger gone but not forgotten. The DJ didn't seem put off. Tom supposed he was used to such responses from people. Asshole.
"Tom, eh? So what do you do for a living, Tom? Is Mr. Tom some kind of tough guy cop? You were wearing the proper eyewear for it earlier." The DJ's smile seemed thinner as if he was aware he was still on thin ice but continuing to push it. "Super Spy Tom?"
Tom grit his teeth and did not reply right away for several reasons. First of all, he hated hearing his name repeated so much. Tom, Tom, Tom… Saying something too much killed its value. He hadn't liked it before, and now his name was one of the few things he still truly owned. He hated hearing it being made into nothing. He also didn't enjoy being made fun of, and there was the fact that he had no job. No occupation to share with these strangers. What would all these business people think of that? He couldn't even be bothered with the fact that no one knew him and would more than likely not give two shits about his employment situation because he was already too worried. They were judging him. Who do you assholes think you are that you can judge me?
"I'm self-employed," he finally answered, adding a heavy note of finality to his voice. It was the kind that ended conversations, or in this case prying interviews.
"Very interesting," the DJ continued. Tom had to hand it to the guy. He had a lot of guts and did his job well. He could make any falter have a purpose, and no one would be the wiser. Lucky bastard. "So, you dance with anyone tonight?" Tom shook his head "no", looking down at the floor as he did so. "Ah, so we've got a shy one, eh?" Tom didn't reply. He just looked up at the crowd for a moment before turning his gaze downward once more.
Jackie was watching Tom with an interested, almost worried, expression but managed somehow to keep from staring too intently at him. Even then she was still sizing him up. The man didn't even have to look up to know she was doing it. His paranoia was sometimes correct.
The DJ continued talking for a bit, and Tom had stopped staring at his feet, but he was no longer listening, and the man's words became nothing more than buzzing in the background. What he said wasn't important now. What was important now was getting through this incident in one piece. Hopefully, it would be successful. Eventually the chatter had ceased, and a light touch on his shoulder caused Tom to shift back into the present. Jackie was the one who had touched him as the DJ had already started to head back to his station.
"Zoning out?" she asked jokingly so that only Tom could hear. He creased his brow in pretend thought and shrugged. "Exactly what I thought."
"Why're you doing this to me?"
"Because you looked like you could use a little fun."
"This isn't fun…"
"It will be."
Tom grumbled but decided not to argue any further. The music had started to play, and he'd learned his lesson, mostly, about trying to argue with this woman. She doesn't care if you don't agree. The song sounded like typical wedding dance song. Easy listening with enough of a rhythm to make it possible to do that awkward sway in unison people called dancing at big social events. The portion of Tom's mind that knew how to dance cringed at the thought.
Dancing. If he could remember correctly it was something he could do with some proficiency.
The song wasn't bad, but the emotion it oozed made Tom want to slink off to some dark corner and hide, but before he could do such a thing Jackie had taken his hand. He gave her an uneasy look, but she paid it no mind and countered with a calm expression. Giving up, Tom played along, letting Jackie get close to him.
"See? Not so hard is it?" she asked moving their hands into the proper positions since while Tom wasn't fighting he also wasn't making any effort in a positive direction.
"I suppose not…" he admitted. The tempo was easy enough to keep with, and as much as he didn't want to admit it he enjoyed the movement. It gave him something to focus on. Something other than how fucking out of place he felt. Why couldn't people be more like music? Why couldn't they have sounds and beats and easily interpreted moods? Perhaps it was true. Music hath charms to soothe a savage beast…
It certainly hath.
The movement had set Tom's mind to autopilot, and the music was a distant melody that he was acutely tuned in to. He would have been more than happy to enjoy the lull had he not suddenly felt a new weight upon him, and a sound that came from closer than the speakers.
"You dance really well," Jackie smiled, her head resting below his shoulder. He imagined they looked like something out of those old teen movies at the prom. Oddly, he found that he didn't quite mind. There was something strangely comforting in the act. This weight. Not heavy but warm. It was something real. Not a dream. It's solid. It made him feel happy. He almost didn't like it.
"What was that?" he asked as he came to from his previous state.
"You dance really well."
"It's a funny story actually."
"Is it?"
Tom leaned closer as if it was some big secret, and he could feel the woman move her face closer to his to hear better. "I've always been a good dancer." Without missing a step, Jackie moved away from him. Reflexively he moved with her but stopped himself short. What're you doing?
"You think you're really funny don't you?" she inquired, her eyes narrowing with almost forced nonchalance. Tom noticed that he was grinning stupidly and toned down the expression. He didn't like his smile. Not anymore.
"Someone has to," he retorted.
"Good, because I think you're funny too."
"Why? I haven't said anything funny."
Jackie shook her head and moved closer to Tom once more. The music had stopped playing, and he was aware once more of the fact that he was being watched. For a brief time it had felt like that had all melted away, and he felt foolish for forgetting. This event was getting to him. That's all it was. Things like this put spells on people. Put them at ease. That's when they get you. When you least expect it. He had started to back away, when Jackie gestured for him to come back.
"Yeah?"
The woman raised herself up slight on her toes, as Tom was a few inches taller than her, so that she could whisper something in his ear. Tom was distracted by the cliché of it all until Jackie spoke.
"You know, Tom, you're not half bad when you don't have that stick up your ass." She planted a small kiss on his cheek before moving away and back to her seat. Tom just stood there as he heard a few catcalls and a few hoots from the crowd. It hadn't just been his imagination. That had just happened. What exactly had it been? The DJ was saying something, but Tom didn't know what until he felt a forceful push from the man, which landed him back in reality. He was still standing on the dance floor. His face felt warm not just from embarrassment as he shuffled back to the table. Table six.
He leaned back in his seat, fixing his gaze on the flat surface of the table. What just happened here? Did I miss something? Some guy who was also at the table made some sort of comment in his general direction. It sounded friendly, and Tom just nodded absently.
"You still in there?"
"I suppose so?" Tom moved himself stiffly to look at Sebs. Why does he insist on sitting on that side? He stared for a moment or two feeling like he couldn't focus his sight. His friend's face unreadable though he could see it before him.
"You've got your stupid face on so it's kind of hard to tell. Of course, you usually have your stupid face on." Tom felt his brow crease in annoyance. Sebs was in one of his more playful moods while Tom was stuck somewhere in feeling limbo. Usually it would have been a funny situation, but with the latter party's mood being closer to irritation the result of the interaction was any number of possibilities. Most of them bad.
Luckily for Sebs, Tom was feeling uncharacteristically merciful at the moment, and he just bit his tongue to keep from saying something that he was cure he'd regret saying later. He placed his palms on the table, stretching out his fingers so his hands laid flat, the tips of his fingers brushing up on something smooth. His glasses. Had they been off this entire time? How had he not noticed? Quickly he grabbed them, placing them back on his face and sniffling awkwardly to fill the empty space. How could he have not noticed?
Sebs was still looking at him, but this time Tom could tell he wasn't just thinking of something inappropriate to say to him.
"What?" Tom asked, cutting the sound off abruptly.
"You liked that didn't you?"
"So what if I did? I like dancing. You know that."
"That's not what I mean. You liked that. Didn't know you had it in you."
Tom sucked in a sharp breath and met his friend's stare. "What is this high school? Spare me," he replied pointedly. "I danced with a girl. Big deal. We're at a wedding reception. That happens you know. You're supposed to be the one who knows about these social clusterfucks. Not me."
"Getting awfully touchy don't you think?" Tom turned away. He didn't have to take this. Not from anyone. Especially not from Sebs. "Fine, fine. Be five. I was trying to be nice."
"Try harder." Tom heard his friend sigh and grumble, but he didn't flinch. He hid as best he could, folding his arms and burying himself in them, shades pushed up onto his head as he did so. He didn't care. He just didn't want anyone to see how red his face was. Fuck this wedding. Fuck these people. And especially, fuck her.
Was it always going to be this annoying? Dealing with other people? Did everyone just assume they could be his friends? He supposed it wasn't a bad thing for people to try and be friendly to him, but he couldn't help but hate them for it. Don't be nice to me. I don't deserve it. Tom felt the material against his face getting warm and uncomfortable, but he didn't move. Discomfort was one thing he knew he could tolerate. He knew what it was. He could define it. Use it to distract him from the things he had yet to put meaning to. Or rather the things that had meaning but not particularly in relation to him.
He stayed like that for a little while. Soaking in his own self-pity and confusion. However, Tom finally lifted his head and looked over at Sebs who looked rather bored.
"Sorry," he breathed. Sebs shrugged, but made no indication that he was still bothered. Even so, Tom felt better about it. "Guess I was being a bit of an asshole, yeah?"
"A bit? You don't give yourself enough credit." Tom winced, but he figured he deserved that. No, he didn't figure. He knew. "Look, don't worry about it. Whatever they put you on might be messing with your head. It's ok."
I wish it were that. I wish it were ok.
Shrugging, Tom turned his chair out toward the floor, leaning forward and propping his head up on his knuckles, elbows in his knees. Uncomfortable. She was talking. Some other girl at her table. The one girl seemed excited, but Jackie seemed more subdued. She glanced over at him, and Tom made himself interested in the ceiling. They'd been talking about him. He just knew it. Why else would she have looked over? Then again…maybe she'd just felt like she had been being watched. And she was. Tom lowered his head, and fixed his eye again at her table. Still talking. Still buzzing about whatever it was people, girls in particular, talked about.
A few people were on the dance floor now, obstructing his view from time to time, but not enough for him to feel bothered. I don't mind it I guess. Tom picked up his head at the thought. What didn't he mind? I don't mind you. You're nice to me. I like that. Tom tilted his head and started counting the ceiling tiles. He didn't mind? No, he minded. He minded when people made a point of being nice to him. Especially when he knew they were being facetious. No one liked being toyed with. But when people were genuine, he liked that. Maybe that was why. Why he didn't mind. Jackie hadn't seemed false. A little forward, but not false. She'd meant what she said.
And I liked it.
Tom wrinkled his nose at the realization. He liked it. How strange and unexpected. He didn't like anything anymore. At least that's what he'd thought. He didn't like being wrong. It made him feel like he didn't have any control. If he didn't have control then what did he have?
Jackie looked over at him again, but this time he didn't look away. He didn't make eye contact, but he knew she was looking at him. Perhaps she had been talking about him. The idea of it gave the man an awkward feeling in his stomach. He bit his tongue and hunched his shoulders defensively, pushing his glasses back down onto his face. The dark felt comfortable. It felt safe.
Maybe it was the meds. Maybe Sebs was right. I don't want Sebs to be right. Hadn't the bottle said something about it messing with your stomach? Yeah, that's what it was. And I really want it to be that simple. Tom looked down at his shoes and the sick feeling went away. He looked up, and Jackie wasn't at her table and the feeling came back. Maybe it wasn't the medication. Maybe…maybe he was just being a colossal idiot.
The rest of what was left of the evening went on like that. Looking about the room and then at his feet. Occasionally he got up and walked around to get a better look at everyone but making sure that he kept a safe distance between himself and that thing. Thing. Not a thing. A person. People aren't things. They seem like it though. Whatever. He looked at some of the food, but he knew he didn't have the stomach for it at the moment. Still, he did a few more laps before returning to his seat.
People had started to filter out, saying their goodbyes to the bride and groom and whomever else they wanted to. Some people who had been paired up previously left alone and others with people they hadn't come with. Tom resisted the urge to make a face as he quietly squished some grapes on his plate from earlier. He still didn't want it.
"Hey, I think it's go time."
"Sebs, it's been go time."
Sebs rolled his eyes. "Quit being dramatic. Look, I'll be right back. Need to get my coat. You won't go anywhere, right?" Tom shook his head but didn't move and continued to press the food on his plate into mush.
Sebs had only been gone a few seconds when Tom heard footsteps approaching him once more. That was awfully quick. He was about to say something when the footsteps said something. Or rather, they hadn't said something so much as made the sound of a word dying before it knew what it was. It hadn't sounded like Sebs. The footsteps hadn't sounded like him either.
"What do you want?" Tom asked, digging his thumb into some too soft cheese and not looking at who was behind him. He knew very well who it was.
"I just wanted to talk to you. I feel kinda bad." There was a brief pause as Jackie found her words. "I was just trying to get you to loosen up. You looked so unhappy afterward. I didn't think you'd get so upset."
"Yeah, well, I did. I just wanted to be left alone."
"Ok, ok…I get it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I'm honestly sorry. Swear to god. Truce?" Tom shifted his weight to the other side but didn't say anything. He knew she meant it. Either that or she was a good faker.
"Ok, truce," he nodded as he turned around. Jackie was doing the same thoughtful stare as before, and her lips were drawn in as if she was trying to come up with something clever to say. Tom didn't know quite why, but it made him feel bad, and Sebs' comment about him "not giving himself enough credit" replayed in his head. He really had been a bit of an ass hadn't he? His pride felt spiky and dry as he tried to swallow it. "And…and I'm sorry too." Tom forced himself to make eye contact as he said it. He felt like he was going to crumple, but he inhaled in an attempt to keep himself inflated. The spiky pride ball was sticking his lungs, and he almost winced.
"Thanks," Jackie grinned, the worried edge dropping from her face but a little less so in her tone. "You know…I still think you're a really good dancer. Better than me. And, I was just wondering, since I have to go, that maybe we could dance again. You know, without everyone staring?" Sitting up straighter, Tom raised his eyebrows curiously. Was she serious? "I mean, if you're not too scared," she added with no attempt to hide the challenge the twisted around each word.
"I'm not afraid of anything," Tom replied with confidence he hadn't realized he still had in him. He stood up slowly and glanced over at the DJ who was still hiding behind his station. There was still some generic music playing, but it was clear that he was getting packed up. A few people still remained out on the floor, and everyone else had either left or was huddled into their own little groups. Stalling until one of them decided that it was really time to go. No one was paying attention. Perfect.
He had taken a few steps forward when he felt a light but noticeable tug on the back of his collar. "Hang on a sec. You know I have rules." Tom felt his shoulders sag and didn't even bother trying to resist. "Sorry, but I don't dance with spies," Jackie continued as she moved in front of him, pointing to his face. She meant the glasses. Tom raised his hand and touched the side of his head lightly. Did he really need them that badly? He'd done it before, in front of more people too. So, why was he so reluctant? "You know I don't care," Jackie added but not coldly. Tom was inclined to believe her despite himself, and he pushed the shades up. "All the way." Grumbling Tom removed them completely, holding them out in front of him.
"There. You happy?"
"Quite," Jackie replied taking the glasses from his hand and putting them on the table. "Now, come on. That DJ is going to pack up whether we want him to or not."
Tom made a vague gesture with no meaning, his feet suddenly feeling like lead. Somehow he managed to get back onto the floor. The stiffness of the wood feeling strange after having been digging his feet into the thin carpet that the places all had. Easier to clean? As Jackie followed behind him he noticed something different. "Shoes?" he asked, looking down at her feet.
"They bother my feet after a while," she shrugged tapping her foot for emphasis. Stretching it out on the floor now that it was no longer confined. Tom sympathized. He knew a thing or two about uncomfortable shoes, and he remembered the woman removing her shoes earlier. He hadn't bothered to ask then. Why'd he care now?
"Yeah, I know."
"Do you?"
"I do." Jackie paused, but not for long as a new song came on. The beginnings of it barely noticeable as it faded in. "Now or never?"
"Now's as good a time as any."
Tom managed to shake the lead from his feet once they got going. The song was slower than the other one, which made sense. Everything was coming to a close. The music too. Dying. The newlyweds had already shuffled off to parts unknown and the only ones left were the stragglers. Not that that was a bad thing. Tom liked the illusion of privacy.
"It's nice…" he admitted.
"What is?"
"Dancing. It's nice."
"It is. I think you should do it more often."
"I'll try."
Jackie responded with a nod but otherwise did nothing. She was leaning on him like she had been doing before, and Tom sensed the comfort return as he felt the weight upon him. Real. The music was a little louder now but remained unobtrusive. Still, Tom noticed as it stopped. He reluctantly stopped moving, casting a half upset face at the DJ as he turned off his system. Guess that had been that last one.
Jackie moved back, and Tom thought that she looked a little disappointed. However, the look didn't last long enough on her face for him to feel justified in asking what it had been for. "That was fun. Thanks for letting me dance with you." Tom nodded in response. What could he say?
"You're welcome and thanks."
"What was that last bit?" Jackie asked, turning around as she had started to walk back to the table where she'd left her shoes. Tom took a few uncertain steps forward until he was beside her.
"Thanks. I didn't thank you for earlier." He moved closer the table, quickly snatching up his shades. He noticed Jackie make a face at them and looked down at the sunglasses in his hands. At himself. Shadowy and seemingly shapeless in the black, mirrored lenses. Was that all people saw?
"No problem," she replied, bending down to get her shoes and then turning to leave.
"Wait…"
"Hm?" The woman turned back around again, Tom imagined she might have been getting annoyed with him at this point, making no attempt to cover up her confusion.
"I don't really need these so I…" Tom held out his sunglasses to her, his voice wavering in a barely noticeable way. He noticed it though. I'm nervous. "You can have them. My eyes aren't sensitive. I just…you want them?"
"I can't just take them. That wouldn't be very fair."
"It's ok. I don't mind. I can get another pair."
"No, no…fair's fair. I'll trade you. Hang on a second." Jackie half jogged over to her table without waiting for a reply, shoes in hand, pulling one of the larger flowers from the centerpiece out and returning to the middle of the floor. Everyone else was off to the side, their conversations just whispers and indecipherable despite the fact that there was no more music playing. Jackie gestured for Tom to come out and take it. Seeing no reason not to, he obliged.
"A flower?" he ventured, as he got closer. If that was all she wanted to trade then Tom would have insisted that he really didn't want or need a flower.
"Just take it," Jackie sighed, sounding exasperated. Tom made a small whimper noise but got close enough reaching out until his fingers curled around the stem, careful so as not to hurt it. Flowers are delicate. However, as he did so Jackie leaned forward and planted a quick kiss on him before letting go of the flower and grabbing the sunglasses out of his hand. "Even trade," she laughed, waving them in front of his face, tapping his nose lightly with the frames before backing off.
Tom tried to speak, but all that came out of his mouth was a strange exhale noise as his brain tried to register what had just happened. Shaking her head, Jackie waved and headed out of the room and out of Tom's sight. Real? To his right Tom heard the DJ chuckle and suddenly became aware of how warm his face was. It was probably red too.
It felt strange. Different in some way than similar feelings. The man was staring at the flower in his hand. The type escaping him, but it was certainly pretty. Lots of petals and it smelled nice.
"You're not going to get all uppity if I ask how that was are you?" Tom looked up to see Sebs eying him suspiciously, jacket hanging over his arm, something that seemed to hint at a grin on his face.
"I won't," Tom replied simply, voice stripped of emotion. "How much did you see?"
"A good amount. How long do you think it takes for me to get my coat?"
"I have no idea…"
"It was weird."
"What was?"
"That," Sebs replied making a gesture that Tom could only assume meant he was referring to what he had obviously watched. "You looked happy."
"I've been happy before."
"Not like this. I mean, look at yourself. You're smiling like a drugged idiot. I'm surprised you haven't noticed." Tom wanted to move his hand to touch his face, but he knew that would be admitting defeat. He forced the corners of his mouth down and half-closed his eye as he'd seen people do when they were trying to give off and air of aloofness. Tom had never been very good at being aloof, but it didn't mean that he couldn't try.
"I am not," he forced out since his mouth didn't want to work properly as he tried to beat it into submission.
"You were. Why are you doing this to yourself?" Tom pressed his lips together, but he couldn't keep the whimper from coming out of him. "You like her don't you? Is that why you're doing this to yourself? You're letting her get away." Tom felt his fists clenching as Sebs continued to speak until he felt the stem starting to give under the pressure and loosened his grip on it, looking at it with a worried expression. I didn't hurt it did I?
"Look what you made me do," Tom complained. The stem now had darker spots where his fingers had been.
"I didn't make you do anything. You're doing this to yourself."
"I'm not doing anything," Tom insisted. "You're making something out of nothing."
Sebs shook his head. "You are so stubborn."
"I am not fucking stubborn!" Tom snapped causing his friend to step away from him, taken slightly aback by the sudden aggression. "You're the one doing this. You keep pressing this issue. It's not even an issue!"
A few people had looked up from their private conversations to stare, and Tom heard the murmurings change their tone. My stomach hurts. Shit, I don't feel so good. Fucking medication. I hope it's just that.
"Jesus Christ…Tom, stop being so loud."
That did it. Tom could feel a little snap in the back of his mind. A familiar twist of thought that had long since been pushed into a corner. "I will being as loud as I want," he growled though his volume had lowered. "What is it that you want from me, Sebs? What are you going for? You think this is some sort of story? Has the clock struck midnight somewhere in your mind?"
"Tom, you know that's not what I meant. I just-"
"You just what?" Sebs kept his mouth shut. "You just thought that maybe I could be normal? Maybe I could find something? What would I find? No, I told you before. Normal isn't meant for me. I have nothing left to find. There's no happy ending for Tom. That should be abundantly clear."
"I told you I didn't mean it. I didn't mean anything. You're overreacting. I'm sorry, ok?"
"Sorry? Fuck sorry…just…why'd you have to ruin it?"
"Ruin what?"
"The moment. I was enjoying this moment. It was perfect. You're right. I was happy. I really liked her, but you know what? That was ok. I was left on a positive note. Then you had to remind me…remind me that I have to let these things go. You think I don't want to follow her out there? Fuck you. I do, but I know better. I know it can't work. I'm sparing both parties a lot of fucking hurt, but you…you just had to push it. You couldn't leave the moment alone."
"Tom…"
"No, forget it. It's gone." Tom looked down at the flower, it's stem now limp. He'd crushed it. Him. Not Sebs. "I'm a fool, and so are you. This is no fairytale. It's just a day, and now that day is over, and it fucking blows. I'm angry. What a waste of time."
There was an almost static feeling as silence lingered between the friends.
"You still have your flower though."
"No, I don't. Look at it. I crushed it. It's dead."
"Just the stem."
Tom looked at the abused piece of flora again. Sebs was right. The stem was beyond repair, but the pretty part, the part Tom actually gave a damn about, was in tact. "I guess, but the ugliness is still there."
"You can always remove the stem," Sebs shrugged. Do you even know what you're saying? You couldn't. Tom screwed his face up into a thoughtful expression and moved the flower into his other hand, wiping the warm plant liquid on his pants. Sebs made a good point even if he didn't know what Tom's brain was making of it.
Carefully, Tom pulled the stem off, making sure not to damage the flower as he did so. The stem fell away, and Tom couldn't hold back a grin. It looked okay. More than ok. "That's better," he confirmed, the flower perched lightly on his fingers. He liked how the petals felt. Smooth. Maybe he hadn't completely messed it up. It was still pretty. Just in a different way. Maybe it wasn't so bad.
He stared at it as he felt some of his energy fall away. The people had gone back to talking. No one cared anymore. There was no need to worry about them. The sick feeling had started to go away, and he felt himself relax.
"So, you think you're ready to go?"
"Yeah, I'm good. I'm still mad at you though."
"Huh? Why?"
"I really liked the stem," Tom smirked. Sebs rolled his eyes, but made no further arguments. He was all too aware of how Tom's moods could shift. Tom followed behind him as he left, still admiring the flower. He moved it from hand to hand and then finally placed it in his pocket. It could fit now. I can carry it around if I wanted to.
It was dark out now, but Tom couldn't see the stars. Too many streetlamps. He couldn't help but feel more at ease as his sight adjusted to the new lighting. It was a different kind of darkness than he was used to. It was dark, but he could see everything. It wasn't scary. Without trying he picked up the pace, walking in front of Sebs now and pulling the flower out of his pocket and looking at it in the cold light before putting it back.
Maybe the day hadn't been flawless. The word clusterfuck comes to mind. Maybe it hadn't been some kind of fairytale, but whatever it was it made a good story. I guess that's the point. One whose ending was still up for grabs. A work in progress. Happy or not it was coming, and Tom would have to accept that but perhaps not tonight. Perhaps not tomorrow. For now though he had his story, and the hero was still alive. Maybe not a hero. If nothing else it was a good place to start.
And I really like that.