( 1 )
When he burst through the door that night into his father's house, he thought he would be sick right there in the foyer. He stumbled to a stop at the base of the stairs, breathing heavily as he struggled to pull off his HJ uniform. His fingers were slick on the buttons that refused to come free, and the image of Peter's bloody face dancing in his memories. He wanted to cry, but didn't get the chance, because a noise startled him. He was on his feet in an instant, grabbing for one of the umbrellas in the nearby stand and calling out into the darkness.
"Who's there?" he asked, and a pair of dark eyes appeared as someone stepped forward.
"Why are you covered in blood?" a voice asked, and Thomas felt all the air rush from his lungs at once. Exhausted, he fell forward, barely catching himself on the banister.
"Effy, what are you doing here?" he rasped, allowing her to undo the buttons for him and slip the nearly destroyed jacket off his shoulders. "You're supposed to be with your family, in Switzerland."
"You didn't answer my question. Are you hurt?" she pressed, using a finger to turn his head to the right, then the left. He pulled away a little, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.
"S'not mine."
"Pardon?"
"The blood. It's not mine," he mumbled, struggling to avoid her pointed gaze. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe."
"Where are your parents?" she asked, taking a seat by his side. He slipped a hand into hers and pretended for a moment that it was totally normal for them to be sitting on the floor in the dark.
"Gone."
"Thomas," she huffed, patience clearly waning, "What do I have to do to get a straight answer out of you?"
"Just kiss me, okay?" he pleaded, leaning forward and pressing his lips desperately to hers. Kiss me before you find out what I've done, and hate me forever.
a/n: just a bit of a prologue-y bit for you. there's going to be little things you'll notice that are just a teeny bit inaccurate, but what fun would writing fiction be if you couldn't bend it just a little? oh young christian bale, why do you have to be so fine?
