It's warm and clean inside. Not like the ruin, it looks outside. True there are some signs of previous neglect. But it's clear the inhabitants care as best as they can to keep it tidy.
Down the hallway, at the stairs, Thomas takes in the willowy sight of Cameron. She wears a sweater too big, with her crooked fingers barely visible under the long grey sleeves.
There's a burn hole in one of them.
"You got a visitor."
Thomas smiles when she looks over at him. Like she wasn't expecting him to ever stand in her doorway.
"What's up?"
She scowls slightly at his cheerful voice.
The stairs creak under the weight when they make their way up.
"So," he looks over the small room, stacked with two beds and clearly divided by an invisible line in the middle of the room. There's some rocked an old poster on her side, and he remembers giving it to her after she came around at his home the first time. After they talked about music and he realized fifteen-year-old Thomas would have had a blast with her, marching through the too loud noise and tackling people to piss them off. Because he could.
It's the only thing he recognizes. What does he know about her?
She's tech-savvy. And really smart. And she could probably break a guys nose with one hit.
"How long have you been living here?"
"What's it matter?" She asks back, shoving her head forward, jaw a little clenched.
"Just curious." He mutters and looks around again. "Nice room."
Thomas sits down on her small bed. Something is missing. He's not sure what it is.
"Why are you here, Thomas?" She asks and doesn't even sound really annoyed like so often. Just insistent. And she uses his name. Never a good sign.
"My sister said something." He decides to start. Thinking of the sympathetic way his sister looked when she said Cameron had enough on her plate. " That I don't know anything about you. And at first, that made me angry. Because you're my best friend. I know everything. How you sit and talk, how you wrinkle your nose I different kinds of grumpiness. I know how you flip people off and how you give them mean names even if you like them." He sighs, looking at her face. She's really pretty, or could be. But she doesn't even care.
He studies her dark skin and the way her hair curls along her ears and down her neck.
Wondering that with all the people he tried to draw, from Maven over Farley and Shade to even Lightning, he never tried to draw her. Not even just to shove it in her face and get a tiny snarl or eyes rolling. Or maybe even a "not too bad.". That's the best compliment she gives and he knows it means a lot.
"But she was right. I mean, we never talk about you. You don't tell me anything. I didn't even know you lived here until I asked Lightning."
"Always liked that you didn't try to be a pushover." She just says, crossing her arm with such openly shown spite it's not fitting for someone her age. She should be happy and healthy, but she doesn't seem happy at all. What her life must have been like.
"I just wanna be a good friend. So you know you can always talk to me."
"You were a good friend, asshat. We took care of each other." She says and Thomas makes a face. This isn't at all what he expected. But then again, this is the drill. They never yell at each other.
He had his amount of yelling at people, even insulting them. Flipping his family off, yelling at Farley, hissing and snapping at Maven. Never her. Because they insult each other all the time. It has another meaning.
He thinks of all the hours she spent, hiding him under a blanket or watching him work. She wouldn't deserve the yelling. She deserves something else. An apology.
"If I had taken care of you I'd have found you a flat. I'd have shit-talked so much you and your brother would have moved in. I just cried about Maven and complained how bad it was to have a bed and a warm meal wherever whenever. I would know you. Like...where did you come from? What about your parents?"
She scowls slightly. There's a moment of fighting in her face before she opens her mouth and answers him. "I am born outta the city. In a smaller town. Not very popular. People rarely leave."
He takes in that information grateful. Like a dried out plant after a drought, eagerly. "And your parents? Are they...still alive?"
"Dead. The lot of them." She answers, looking out of the small window into the night sky.
"Oh," Thomas makes. "I'm sorry, Cookie."
"You didn't drive them into death by ruining their lives, so don't fucking apologize."
"Yeah, I think I'd remember that." Thomas jokes uncomfortable."I never lost family that way so I just feel bad you were all alone."
"Wasn't. I had Morrey."
The way she says that speaks for itself. It's low and contained. But there's something sad and helpless behind it. And the Cameron Cole Thomas knows is never helpless. That one fights with her bare teeth to death.
He knows what he noticed before now. That there is only her stuff on her side of the room and no trace of his belongings.
He has been gone for a while. Even before she moved in with Nanny and the others.
"Where is he?"
"They took him." Anger and hurt gleam in her eyes. " Has been a while."
"They?" Thomas asks.
"We needed to survive when we were alone." She starts. "Did some things. Silver scum wanted to lock us up. We always got away. But then I met you. And wanted to stay. Shit went down. They took him."
"Fuck, and you didn't say a word." He whispers and feels terrible.
"Yeah what would you do but make a face." She is deadpan serious for a second.
He bites his lips.
"I could try and find a way to see if he's okay."
"And who'd you ask?"
"Eh," he says, searching for a suitable lie. He doesn't find one quick and feels he can't avoid answering. "Maybe Farley or Lightning or someone who...eh..."
Not like she doesn't have access to those people as well.
He tries not to look at her face, concentrating on a spot on the wall behind her.
It doesn't work.
"Alright, I am kinda back with Maven." He blurbs into her face.
He expects her to hit him or snarl at him but she just waits.
"You knew that." He finally realizes, confused.
"Yeah, and you are a fucking moron. Wasn't hard figuring out when you stopped whining about him and always made bad jokes when the topic came up."
Thomas, you really are a terrible liar. You must suck even more than you think.
But credit where it is due. She's a tough cookie, of course, she'd figure it out. She has listened to him mooning far too often.
"I want to slap you through the room and down the stairs for being an idiot."
"But you won't?" he asks hopefully.
"Wouldn't change a thing. You're stuck with your head up his ass."
"Maybe not my head," he suggests and earns the long-awaited hit to his shoulder with her fist.
She sits down next to him and he thinks again what an odd pair they make. Not because her skin is a shade darker than his, especially now with the tanning sun gone. Or because she is a head taller, even though she's only fifteen. Even not because she's pretty when he is not. Because she has willpower and strength, endurance. All the qualities he finds himself lacking. He pushes through but never with as much spunk as she would. He accepts hit after hit and waits.
She is the younger one but she's his shield. She guards him like a rabid dog, teeth bare, hiding his weakest spots from the rest of the world.
"This is a fucking mess and you never listen , asshat," Cameron says, very low. "Whatever you two got is dead wrong and it hurts you."
He huffs at her in disbelief. "Bit dramatic, isn't it? He's getting better. And I can look out for myself."
"If he does hurt you again," she finishes that thought. "I'll cut out his heart."
He takes in her seriously grumpy face and he laughs. Like she always makes him laugh, too long and so hard he can barely breathe. A real tearing laugh from his inside.
"I think you'll need to get in line for that."
She makes a disgusted noise and it's genuinely warming Thomas to see them back on track. It poisons him, inside from his core to know he should have cared and didn't. Maybe he cares too much for certain and too less for other people.
"Will you tell anyone?" He asks.
Her mouth twitches when she gives it a thought. "Ought to. You're pissing on a lot of people. But I'll wait and give you a chance to do it yourself."
He extends his arm around her back but doesn't touch her. "You're my best girl."
Her arm reciprocates the gesture and gives his back a hard pat.
"You're an idiot. But you owe me a tattoo. "
Thomas laughs so hard he needs to hold himself tight at her side. "I know!"
He feels a little lighter with every step when he finally leaves her room.
Nanny sits in the kitchen. He passes her on the way downstairs and out. There's Ada, the girl he occasionally sees, and another blends almost in the background as if is a blurry illusion. Not sticking out at all.
"I'm off, but thanks for letting her stay." He throws Nanny a long look. "And looking after her."
"She never has visitors. " Nanny answers. "So it is good you're here."
He smiles at her.
"Your sister works for Blonos, doesn't she?" Ada suddenly asks, tilting her head slightly.
"Yeah?" He furrows his brow. "He's an asshole."
She doesn't disagree and leans over her cup. Nanny watches them both silent.
There's something Ada doesn't say but she doesn't have to. It creeps right under his skin and makes him angry again.
"Have a nice evening." He just waves a last goodbye before leaving.
He doesn't immediately head home after leaving the house behind. Instead, he finds himself trying to catch another ride to a different part of town, moving on the outskirts.
Another apology run it seems. There's a lot he could say.
No one seems to be at home. So he sits on the porch and wips out his old trusty pencil and paper.
It takes the better part of a rough sketch and some shadows added before Cal turns up home.
They both stare at the paper in Thomas' hands for a while before speaking. Hollow eyes and abstract circles that fade into claws. "Didn't want to draw it at first," Thomas says. "But, y'know, it's part of it, somehow. Part of it all."
Cal watches the image as if it was a being alive and the claws able to cut him.
"You think he would mind?" Thomas asks, feeling guilty. " I never show him images I make of him. That'd be kinda embarrassing."
"I think he'd tell you that you are talented." He answers after a while. "He always paraded your work around. And later he'd stare at the sketches you posted."
" I wouldn't have worked on it if he hadn't told me." Thomas smiles a little, remembering their talks and the way Maven watched him draw. "I'm sorry, dude."
There's pain flaring through them until Cal turns away.
"Mare is not here." He just says.
"I know. I wanted to talk to you." Thomas sighs. "Apologize for ruining your birthday. And because your brother can be a dick. He's trying to get better tho. Goes to therapy, is nice to me. I think he means it, as much as he can mean something. He has a good moment."
There's the sound of a keychain and a door being opened. Thomas waits a moment before he follows. He knows he has no right to demand they make it up. And it's not like Cal was the one starting it.
"How long will that last?" he asks genuinely interested. His eyes take in Thomas nervous shuffling form. " Especially with his mother being around."
Thomas bites his lips. "Thought about that a lot. But it's not like I can snatch him away. He's old enough to leave."
Though the thought of carrying Maven out holds some amusement.
How would I even do that? Piggyback? Or bridal style, for the utmost embarrassment.
"You know this shit. I need some advice, even if you're never going to talk to Maven again." Thomas forces the words out with an ounce of desperation.
Cal takes a long breath. For a second there's a long crack in his calm facade and Thomas realizes he's just as bruised and battered as everyone else.
"I honestly don't know. You need to do it your way. "His warm eyes take in Thomas thoughtful. "Don't ever underestimate the power and the will of that woman. She's not going to make anything easy for you, Thomas."