I just can't take it anymore… I need to get away.
Tommy exhaled and put his face in his hands. He grabbed the notebook and shoved it under his mattress, trying not to be too loud. He slung his legs over the side of the bed and pushed himself into a sitting position. He looked around him. At what he had. Enormous room, huge ass closet, nice furniture. But he felt… empty. Poor. He shouldn't, his family had money coming out their asses, but maybe that's the problem. His parents are too afraid of their "little baby" getting influenced by technology. Tommy stood up and walked to his closet. He opened the doors and sighed. He walked in, grimacing at how everything was in order. By color. Sometimes his father could be so… Tommy picks out a plain grey shirt and slips it over his head. He checks his watch and heads downstairs. When he arrives in the dining room, his father is waiting for him with a scowl. Tommy looks at his father's glass of Vodka. Great.
"You're late, Thomas."
Tommy frowned. He hates being called that. He sits down and smiles. His mother made chicken pot pie. It's his favorite.
"Dinner looks absolutely delicious Mother."
Tommy's mother looked up and him with that snooty look.
"Yes, and it would've been better warm, but somebody decided to be late."
Tommy looked down and ate his food.
Tommy's father, Gregory, liked order. Everything had a specific time, specific place, and specific way to be done. It drove Tommy mad, but he couldn't argue. For example, every day when Tommy got home from school, he did his homework and was expected at the dinner table by 6 o'clock sharp. On Sundays, they went to church then out to lunch at some fancy restaurant. When things didn't go Gregory's way, bad things happened. When Tommy was late home from school one day, the next day he went back with a black eye. Nobody ever asked, because his father was important. And everybody knew that Gregory would find out who told and he would punish them. Tommy knew what was expected of him.
"Thomas, you know what's expected of you. We've been through this hundreds of times. I just want you to be at the dinner table by a certain time, and then you're free until bed! It's not hard to understand."
Tommy sat on their white leather couch, silently cursing in his head. His father was standing above him, lecturing him. He'd been blabbing for quite a while now.
"Dad? I get it, ok? I screw up, oh well, I'm HUMAN. You mess up too! God, I wish you'd just go away. I'm sick of you always getting on me!"
Tommy was out of breath and most definitely surprised. He'd never snapped at anybody like that before. His father must've been too, because the next thing Tommy knew, he was on the floor with a bloody nose. He didn't even see the hand. All he heard was a smack. Tommy looked up. He saw his father, red faced, and he didn't look regretful.
"Get up here and fight like a man."
Tommy wiped the blood from his nose and stood up. He was a little shorter than his father, and definitely less buff. His father stood there, puffy eyed and drunk.
"No."
Tommy ran upstairs to his room, half-expecting his father to chase him. He didn't, which is good. Tommy went to his closet and pulled out a large backpack. He'd thought about it before, but never knew he'd actually do it. He checked, and everything was still there. The seven hundred dollars, fake ID, the pocket knife, and a new iPod, for when he moved somewhere safe. Tommy had considered going to his one and only friend, Isaac, but his parents would check there. He'd just have to figure it out as he went. Tommy slung the backpack on his shoulder. He went to the window and took a deep breath he could do this. He is going to run away from his family, hopefully forever.
Since Tommy didn't know how to drive (his parent wouldn't teach him until he was 18) he had to walk. He wasn't sure how long he walked, but he was getting tired. He decided on going into a bar for the night. He showed them the fake ID- those fucking idiots- and went inside. He'd never drank before, and he didn't plan on it. He just sat there for a few minutes before pulling out his iPod. He toyed with it for a few minutes then decided to put it away so he wouldn't waste battery. After about half an hour, another person joined him at the bar. Tommy glanced at the man out of the corner of his eye, and was amazed. He was never really into girls, but he never had shown any interest in men either. But this man, he was… He was very tall, dressed in all black, with amazing black eyeliner and shadow. Tommy could barely make out his features, but he could tell they were gorgeous. Tommy pretended to be busy with picking at his nails.
Man in Black's POV
I was in the bar. What else to do? I got caught with those drugs, and WHAM, no more career for me. I'd only had about two or three drinks when I saw him. He walked in, with a backpack, looking flustered. He had dried blood on his nose and a bruise. Runaway maybe? He was short, like really short, and he was skinny. He had this beautiful blond hair that curled around his pretty little face. Brown eyes, deep dark chocolaty brown. I could tell the kid was definitely underage, maybe 17 or 18. He sat down and pulled out an iPod. I stared at him, trying to muster up the courage to talk to him. Yeah, maybe I did come here looking for a night of "fun" if you get my drift, but he made me feel… different. Finally, after another drink and half an hour, I went and sat next to him. I could tell he was sneaking' peeks at me, but I couldn't tell if he was interested. I needed to start a conversation before he left. Shit, what do I say? Whoa, wait. You're Adam Lambert; you can get any guy you want.
"Nasty bruise. Mind if I ask?"
The boy's eyes darted to me, but he didn't turn his head. He looked like he was shaking.
"I, uh… Bike accident."
I nodded; it was obvious he was lying. Ah, something else.
"You got a name kid?"
He looked at me, actually turned his head a little.
"Tommy. And I'm not a kid."
I laugh a little and smile.
"Tommy, huh? Well, can I buy you a drink?"
This time his head snapped around and his pupils seemed to blow up. He looked at me, as if he was searching for something. He nodded, not taking his eyes off me.
"Aye, bartender? Get me and my pal here two Vodkas."
I smiled at him, and wow he smiled back. He has a beautiful smile.