Author's Note: Well I was trying to work on my other fics when this hit me. Oh well. I will get those other fics updated, I just started Uni though so it could be a bit longer while I get settled there. Thanks, as always to wonderful, wonderful Mandi for beta'ing!
Edited to add: Another songfic where the lyrcis have been removed. The song it was is listed above.
Perfect
He stared down at his hands, listening to his parents fight downstairs. They were screaming. They never screamed at each other. They rarely even fought, not seriously. They were perfectly, normal, wonderful parents.
He drew in a ragged breath.
This was all his fault.
"That boy of yours..."
"That boy of mine? Can you even hear what you're saying? When did you forget that he was your son too? That he is our son, our child, part of our family. When did you forget who he was?"
"I'm not sure I've ever known who he was. My son wouldn't do this. My son wouldn't be rude. Wouldn't disappear at the drop of the hat at all hours, wouldn't get detention, wouldn't let his grades drop like this, wouldn't end up hanging out with that bunch of misfits and certainly wouldn't be a fa..."
Upstairs, unable to block the raised voices that drifted up through the thin walls, he bit back a sob. He had known this would happen, known but had hoped... He had been drifting away from his dad for awhile. They used to be so close but...
"Pull your head out of your ass for one second, Ray, and listen to yourself. You had no problem with his friends three days ago. I'll admit his grades are sagging a bit but..."
"Sagging a bit? They've gone down a whole fucking letter grade? And you say I don't know the boy?"
God, he didn't know when things had gotten this bad. It hurt to hear this but he'd rather hear it than not know the reason behind the disgust he saw in his father's eyes when the man couldn't hide it fast enough.
"You're damn right I am. If you knew the first thing about your son you'd have realized a long time ago why his grades are suffering and the fact he has been worrying himself sick about losing your love and your respect for something he can't help is not the biggest factor in that either."
He drew in a quick breath. He figured his mother had found out his secret awhile ago. Well, that one anyway. He already knew she knew about the other one, had brought it up with him in the first place. Had made him feel better about it, had been so wonderful about it all.
But that one, the big secret, he had had his suspicions about for awhile. She never questioned his abrupt departures. She hadn't commented when she caught sight the few scars that decorated his body from some of the worse battles when he hadn't been quick enough to hide them once. She knew. It explained a lot, like why she kept his bathroom stocked with first aid products.
"You knew he was a fucking fa..."
"Don't you say that. Don't you belittle our child. I won't have you make him feel any worse."
"So you're taking his side in this?"
His eyes grew wet. Why did it have to be about sides? He didn't want his parents to have to take sides over him. He didn't want them to fight. He didn't want his dad to hate him.
When had it all got so fucked up?
"There's no sides to take. I love my child; I will always love our son. I've known who he was for a long time. If you can't see how precious he is then it's your loss. I won't have it be mine."
It grew quiet. Too quiet. He forgot how to breathe as the silence stretched on.
"Where are you going?"
He crept to the end of the hall, peeking around the corner.
"Ray? You can't run away from this. He's your son! How can you..."
"How can you just pretend this is fine?"
"No one has a problem but you."
He saw his father grabbing his coat from the closet. He couldn't see his mother. Didn't she want to stop him?
"I don't know when I'll be back."
"If you're just going to hurt your son again I don't know if I want you to come back."
His father paused, the front door swung wide open. He saw his features tighten in anger before he walked out the door, slamming it behind him in anger. He winced at the sound.
More silence, except now his own ragged breathing filled the dim as he struggled to keep his tears in.
His heart lurched as he heard his mother give a soft sob. His legs felt wobbly and he slid down the wall, hiding his head in his hands as he listened to her start to cry.
He hated to hear her cry. Hated himself for every tear she shed.
His hands tightened to fists in his hair. It smarted but he didn't care. He deserved it, deserved to hurt. He couldn't do anything right. He made his mother cry.
He couldn't be who everyone wanted him to be.
He didn't know how long he sat there. Long enough for his legs to start hurting. Long enough for his head to start aching. Long enough for his eyes to start burning from the unshed tears.
Why couldn't he just be what they wanted?
He had to be strong. Others were depending on him, looking up to him, constantly requiring his help and support and care and love and so much of him that sometimes he felt he couldn't give any more away. Sometimes he felt like screaming that it was too much, he couldn't be on their pedestals.
But he never did. He kept silent. He kept on going even when he could feel himself buckling under the strain of their needs. He couldn't fall apart. There was too much on his shoulders. If anything dropped... he just couldn't let that happen.
Sometimes he felt like he was being smothered in other people's needs though. Sometimes he felt so pushed into their ideas of who he was that he wasn't sure if he knew who he really was anymore.
Now this...
He couldn't deal with this.
"Baby?"
He looked up. When had his mother come upstairs?
"Oh honey, don't cry. It's okay. He'll come around."
Crying? Oh, he hadn't realized he had been crying but now he could feel the damp trails on his cheeks, feel the tears still beading down his face.
"Mom, I'm sorry..."
"Hush. Don't be silly. Don't you dare think for one moment any of this is your fault. If he's too blind to see what a wonderful person you are that's his problem. I just don't know what he's doing. You two used to be so close..."
He shuddered once. They had been close. He had been his father's son. He loved him, had idolized him as a boy, and wanted to be just like him.
Then he decided, no, he didn't want to be a lawyer. He had stopped going into the office with his dad, had stopped playing football outside of school and pursued karate instead. His dad had been disappointed but he had still loved him, he had still been proud when he brought home trophies from the tournaments he entered and managed to pull honours at school.
Then his life had gotten so much more complicated and it had all been one big secret of running off and making up lame excuses for absences. Ironically he knew if his dad knew the reason behind it all he would have been proud, very proud. Instead they had just grown further apart, and the pauses in their conversations had grown to the point they just didn't talk.
And now he had picked, in his father's eyes, the wrong person to love. The only person who seemed to understand him really, except for maybe his mother sometimes; who knew him, flaws and all, and still loved him.
How could he give that up? He wouldn't. He didn't want to and he wouldn't. Not just to make his father happy. It wasn't worth making himself utterly miserable.
"You know I love you, honey." His mother's arms were around him, and he found himself hugging her back, tightly as if scared he'd lose her too.
"I love you too, mom, and I'm sorry still just... just because..."
"I know, me too, but it'll all be alright. Eventually, it will be. I promise."
They held on for long moments, clinging to each other really. She needed to know she wasn't losing her baby and he needed to know he wasn't losing his mom.
He felt shaky when she released him, wiping her eyes, smudging her mascara a little more. She summoned a wobbly, brave smile and squeezed his arm gently.
"It's been a long night. Why don't you go hop into bed? You've got be exhausted. Go wash your face with a cold cloth, it'll make you feel better. I'll bring up some hot chocolate in a little bit, okay?"
He forced a smile of his own, for her, for the fact that she was trying to help. And it did help, even if the hot chocolate was a dirty trick that she had used for most of his life.
"Okay."
The cold water did make him feel better. It cooled his flushed face and made the hiccups left over from his tears settle.
The cool sheets quickly warmed after he slipped between them, having slipped into a pair of ratty boxers. He lay on his back, facing away from the door, his eyes staring into the semi-darkness as his bedside lamp cast shadows about the room.
He heard his door open but didn't turn, not yet, he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep but he felt so drained he just didn't want to move.
A warm hand, too large to be his mother's, caressed his bare shoulder gently. He looked up into a pair of chocolate eyes and felt his face crumple as he read the concern and sadness there.
Strong arms engulfed him, leaving the hot chocolate forgotten on the bedside table. He sobbed once, softly, against the cotton clad shoulder as he felt himself pulled up into a warm, tight embrace.
"Your mother called me, told me you needed me. God, I'm so sorry. I got here as soon as I could."
He buried himself further into the arms in response, gripping at the offered comfort as tightly as he could. Fingers went to the back of his head, cradling him as they threaded into his hair. Another warm hand gently rubbed the small of his back.
He sobbed once more, his fingers forming fists in the shirt beneath them.
"Shh. I'm here, it'll be okay. It'll all be okay."
He felt himself slowly being eased down, felt the other body curling around him, felt loved as he buried his face against his love's chest.
"Tommy," he murmured half-coherently against the fabric of his t-shirt.
"I'm here, Jase. I'm here."