First, it's Christmas. He spends it at home after moving in. His sisters are delighted. His mother watches him like a mother hen. There's icy silence between him and his father. They do talk, eventually, but never comes out of it. They still don't fight, not with the others around.
Thomas' hands rest on the phone, ready to dial the rest of the number. But it's Christmas. Maven is with his family. He can't just pop up. That'd destroy the rest of his precious balance. He's sure it's better if he waits.
And so he waits.
The new year would have been a good alternative. People call everyone they know. He could just make it short. Let him know he hasn't forgotten.
He doesn't.
The weeks come and go and he always finds an excuse not to call. He never stops thinking about it.
Thomas stays in the city. He doesn't know why. He even gets himself a job, eventually. He can't stay at his family's and Whistles mercy forever.
That's not something he thought he would do, but hey, people grow up, yeah?
It's a line of jobs and he works all day and most of the night in a different place until he feels as tired as he's inside. The next thing he knows he's got enough money to move in with his older sister. They get the tiniest flat he's ever seen. He moves in with two boxes just as tiny and a mattress. Nothing much changes. The boxes go, an old Tv comes, the mattress stays. The walls are plastered with posters and there's pixel art everywhere because that's just her thing. It reminds him of things he doesn't want to think about.
He still has the ruined shirt.
It's full of holes and ripped on one side. He doesn't wear it, but he keeps it around as a reminder.
He moves to the next job and stays for a while. It's filthy little bistro between two shops, with a few tables and a greasy kitchen. And it comes with a pissed off fifteen-year-old occupant. Most times she just scowls at people and yells stuff from her place at her corner. Her name is Cameron. Thomas is in love with her, in a very platonic way. She has some attitude. It's like someone has cloned him and flipped him around to produce even more bitterness and bite.
Eventually, she comes around when she notices he's not half bad. Some nights she stays at his place or he smuggles her into concerts. He feels a little guilty for sticking to a minor because he's lonely. But it's not like she has places to go. She's as homeless as he was and she and her brother make due with what they have.
He gets himself a phone, eventually, even though there are only a few people that have his number.
One evening one particular call as Thomas struts home, legs like lead.
"You're back in town?"
Shades voice is positive. It has strength Thomas doesn't possess anymore. "I am."
"Does someone else know?"
"Farley knows."
"Of course she does." Thomas limps over the grass. "Your family?"
Now Shade hesitates." I mean…kind of? My father and mother know."
"What about Mare? "Thomas asks and knows the answer. Mare worries sick ever day Shade is away. But despite that, he just knows what Shade is going to say.
"No, she doesn't."
"Your thing, dude." Thomas shrugs even though no one can see it but him.
"I heard she's hanging with the rich kids now."
A certain face flashes in front of Thomas' eyes, but that's ridiculous and silly. And impossible.
"How should I know?" Thomas lies." I don't know anyone up there. Whatever Mare is there for, it'll be fine. She's a big girl now. Last time I pissed her off was ugly."
The talk drifts into other topics and Thomas' heart feels safe again.
Thomas blends it out but every time he thinks about Shades voice on the phone he can't. Maybe, just maybe, it's time to face it.
He'll never get over the fact he ran away. It's the ghosts of the what ifs, the tiny whispers that prick like needles. They follow him, chase him until his feet drag him into parts of the city he rather would avoid.
The book store is still open and nothing has changed. Thomas has avoided this part of town vigorously. He doesn't know if Maven still comes here frequently. Maybe he hasn't been here for a month, or even longer.
A few days come and go, no Maven in sight. He still comes and spends time. It's the smell and the shelves. They remind him of a version of himself that did not throw away the only person he's ever wanted to be with.
Sure, he was fucked up. He was a mess and in bad shape.
One thing that Thomas will always have. Cracking jokes and making someone laugh on a bench, lying in the same bed and holding hands. Present Thomas doesn't even want to think about the possibility.
That's until Tuesday. Thomas waits again, this time inside, skipping through books he isn't interested in.
That's when people pass by the window in the storefront.
No mistaking. He would recognize this face everywhere.
Maven has grown a bit, but he is still slender and lean, still blue eyed and dark haired. He still holds his head a little crooked and his shoulders a little hunched.
He makes Thomas hard leap into his chest and Thomas hates it.
Funny thing, he's not alone. Not at all.
Barrow is really hanging with the rich kids, Thomas thinks, staring at her dark-clad figure, the long hair and the earrings. She's still as spunky and hard as ever, but something about her is different. Maybe that's just his imagination running wild.
He wonders what he'll have to say when they get in. And why Maven even brought her along.
A part of Thomas hopes they just talk and won't ever see him.
Lucky enough for him they part ways. She moves in the opposite direction.
Maven, not so much. Well, there's no running now.
The doorbell rings and Thomas wants to hide under the boxes and never come out again. He looks around for the first time. That's the moment their eyes meet.
Something akin to a frown crosses Maven's face.
Thomas smiles helplessly. "Hey, Mave."
Maven makes a step back and turns around to leave. The doorbell rings again.
"No no no." Thomas needs to big jumps until he is in range to touch Maven, hold his arm, grab his shoulder. He doesn't dare. The close proximity is enough to remind them both of days of lazy sunshine, walks, and talks.
They block the entrance, but it's not like there are much bypassers or customer, to begin with.
"Listen, alright? Please just listen."
"I don't think you have the right to ask for anything."
Fair enough. It still hurts. Maven moves further away and Thomas follows. He feels like a stalker. He is a stalker, isn't he?
"Look I know I bailed. I let you down. I hurt you. That's me."
"You were always bad at apologizing." Maven scoffs softly. "But this takes the cake."
"Yeah, I know. Just... "Thomas scratches his chin before he decides it can't get worse. " This isn't about me trying to get back in your pants, Mave. It really isn't."
There are old hurt and new one behind that hard stare and the drawn together eyebrows. Thomas regrets this.
"I am listening." Maven says, dismissive like a king listening to his underling.
He looks over, sees the way the sun is slowly setting. Lanterns are burning. Yellow light casts shadows over Maven's face.
"I just...I wanna make it up to you." Thomas finally decides to say.
"You probably won't use it," Thomas says, fumbling in his pockets. He finds the slip of paper and stretches it out. An arms length between him and that silver prince he used to love.
Maven stares at the paper As if it will turn into a poisonous snake.
"I got a phone now. In case something happens. Or you just wanna talk. Text me."
The paper slip disappears in Maven's jacket. It's something. It's more than Thomas hoped for.
It takes two more weeks before something happens. It's in the dead of night. Morning is still far. Thomas is asleep on his mattress, still feeling the rush of too much food swelling in his belly. It's lazy and it's good. He hasn't had much appetite the last weeks but he can never say no when someone invites him.
He decides to turn off the TV and go to sleep when his smartphone makes a jumping, chirping sound, the sign for a new message. It's an unknown number and he only gave his to one person in the last weeks.
Regarding our conversation, the message starts, and Thomas bites his lips to stop himself from smiling. I don't think there's anything you can do. But I believe you were honest.
Gee, Mave, what am I, your lawyer? Thomas thinks. But it's so very Maven. Even in a text message.
Good to know. Thomas writes back. Thanks for texting me.
There is a long moment of silence. Maven doesn't write back. Thomas can't let the opportunity slip.
Can't sleep, Mave?
Not really.
Bad dreams?
No sleep, no dreams.
Ah yes, the tired eyes, the refusal to accept slumber. Brushing it off. Thomas remembers too well.
I could call you. Thomas offers.
There is another excruciating long break between his offer and the reply and Thomas is sure Maven regrets messaging him. Instead, Thomas can't believe what he reads in the darkness, staring at the white screen.
Do you still have the sketchbook?
That takes him back. The bag in Farley's apartment, with the filthy old hoodie and the book, were the only thing he had after they robbed him in the dead of winter.
It's full.
I'd like to see it.
I'll send you some pics tomorrow.
I'm looking forward to it.
He types his reply. Don't look forward too much. You know how I am with promises.
He doesn't send it.
He sends one or two pictures everyday. He hasn't looked at the images for a long time. Seeing them now , and showing them to Maven, albeit not face to face, is weird.
Some he keeps for himself.
There is the sketch he made of Maven's face. He doesn't want him to think anything strange. It's too personal. They are still testing the water. He also doesn't send the ones he drew of Farley and Shade. Because they are his friends and nothing Maven needs to know.
The messages he receives are short and formal. They only talk about the sketches. They mostly come late in the night. Figures, the silver prince has a ton of work to do in the day, and Thomas can only imagine what that must be like.
Some very rare times Maven writes a sentence or two about his brother or Mare.
Thomas is glad as much as he is hurt. Curious.
Thomas stays awake longer than he usually would, dragging himself up in the early afternoon to get to work.
The concert is small, but the room is so crowded it's hard to breathe. Thomas lurks around the exit, a heavy overused fog machine making the air inside hard to breathe, while a guy with a cigarette stands on the other side and breathes the smoke in his direction. It's sticky and hot inside, and the air outside isn't much better. He's already off his jacket and in a shirt, but it's still too hot.
This was a bad idea. But it is probably still better than being alone, in his bed and waiting desperately for a message or a call until he falls asleep because he's so tired.
And also, Cameron wanted to go. And if he wouldn't have helped her get in, she'd have found another way. And probably would have fought a lot more. He can't deny she's grown really on him.
He calls her sweet nicknames to piss her off. Tonight its Cookie. Because she's a tough cookie, yeah? He's satisfied he came up with it and has a small good laugh for himself.
She's somewhere inside the noise and the crowd. He lost sight of her when she smashed herself against a guy bulky as a freaking bull, but she'll be fine. Maybe some bruises from the mosh pit. Nothing really bad. Cookie Cameron knows the deal. She can do whatever she wants and he gets her into places she's not allowed. And she doesn't provoke fights and keeps her head still in return.
The music reminds Thomas of the screeching sounds he used to like when he had his grungy phase. He's outgrown the slamming guitars and the screaming. Because in the end he was really just trying to piss people off and block his own thoughts out.
Not that he's really fixated on any kind of music.
By now Thomas barely listens to music at all.
Thomas leans in the exit, and the bouncer gives him a look but doesn't say anything. He probably thinks Thomas is waiting for someone.
Maybe he is. He isn't sure who though.
That's when a brown-haired head appears next to him, on the way out.
"Barrow?" He asks, over the noise. She looks good. Also, her clothes are pretty neat. He expected as much when she chilled in the hills. Still.
"Didn't know that was your kind of music." She says, looking at his almost too clean form. Thomas follows her gaze. HE's still skinny, but not like street rat days. The summer has tanned them both, and it suits her better than him. He's still a little burned on his neck and arms, scorched, but then again, it's the way he feels, and so he just takes the pain hoping it will be over soon.
His pants still have some ripples and holes, but now they aren't too big anymore.
"Yeah, watching out for a friend. She likes trouble." He smiles at her. "Where have you been? Seems you left the Stilts now that I have returned."
"One of us always has to be on the road." She toasts him with her beer. Their bottles clink.
"You here with friends too?"
"With..someone. But I lost him in the crowd."
He nods and looks back. The mosh pit has grown and he thinks he sees Cameron throwing herself against someone, hitting the other person hard. Thomas rolls his eyes but admires her enthusiasm.
"Yeah, it's a little wild."
They have a very limited range of topics. That has always been the case. He doesn't know why. They had things in common. Thomas doesn't want to talk about their upbringing or their siblings, and he definitely doesn't want to talk about mutual acquaintances.
He still leans over after taking a very, very long sip of his own beer. "Did Maven tell you I asked?"
Her brow wrinkles. "Maven? Why would Maven-"
With a smashing sound and a roaring cheer, the song ends. Thomas doesn't repeat his question or goes into detail.
Interesting, he just thinks. There could be a million reasons he didn't tell her. Thomas comes up with a solution that means it's about reconnecting through that simple question, and that his outstretched hand has been accepted.
It's probably not right.
"Okay, have my phone number, just in case?" he asks, hands outstretched. "People have been bugging me with questions about you, Barrow."
The exchange is smooth. She hands him an old phone with a crack on the display and he just types his number in. He knows his number by now. He didn't want to ask for Mavens phone back then. But now he's drunk and Mare Barrow is far less dangerous for his head.
"Oh, fuck my life." Thomas exhales deep, looking at Cal. Mare makes a sign with her hand and he struts over. Great, so she's here with his exboyfriends brother who said he should take care and don't mess up. Thomas would consider diving undercover and not keep in contact a mess.
"Yeah, great seeing you, need to look after my friend." As fast as he can, Thomas lowers his head and retreats in the safe shadow of a few smokers, returning inside.
For once, Cameron did not maul anyone who didn't want it. She's glowing vicious and happy, considering her standards for happiness. It's kinda cute.
"We gotta go!" He shouts at her.
"Fuck no!" She yells back.
Thomas looks around but luckily he doesn't see Mare or Cal. "Cookie, just do what I tell you, FOR ONCE!"
Her eyes find him and she flips a switch. The happiness is replaced by her usual grumpy and pissed off expression. "HE HERE?"
"Why would he?" Thomas inhales and says it more to himself than to her. "Hates crowds."
"Alright, asshat, move." She hits his shoulder hard when she struts past him. Thomas follows, quickly, keeping close like she's his shield and sword. She'd probably punch anyone for him if he just pointed her in a direction. At one point, wading through the crowd, he grips her arm to stay as close as he can, like she's actually the adult and he the kid.
"His brother is here," Thomas mutters. "And I think..the girl he's in love with too?"
Cameron snarls. "Fuck your life, Thomas." She says.
"Yeah, that's what I thought."
They spend the rest of the night wandering around, and to his surprise, she's staying at his side.
"Cookie, I didn't know you were this loyal."
"If you tell anyone, I'll tell them you cried like a little girl." She threatens."And I get that tattoo. For free."
For the first time that night, he laughs. He laughs so loud and much his stomach hurts.
When the sketchbook is all but completely sent, Thomas starts to doodle at work. He takes one of the napkins. At first, he just lets it go as it comes. Then he remembers all the posters and the flags and starts drawing them, or characters out of their stories. He draws a chicken mutant dragon one time and smiles to himself before the guilt trips get him.
It's small and nothing very intricate. Sometimes the heads look deformed and they have fish eyes because the napkins are wet. He tries to cover it up.
He enjoys it more than he thought he would.
Even grumpy Cameron shows interest.
" Not bad." She says, leaning over and invading his privacy.
"A man of many talents." He says, a little proud.
"That's why you work in a filthy bistro."
" Don't you have people to yell at?" he asks and shoves her back from over him.
Shes unimpressed as one can be. "Don't you have to moon over your ex?"
"I was drunk that one time and you better shut your piehole or I bust your ass. I'm the adult. You're the minor. No matter how big that sass is."
"As if anyone cares, asshat." He almost expects her to flip him off. She's as rude as one can be. It's kind of nice.
He snorts. "At this rate, you'll never convince me to make you a tattoo."
The messages get longer. They talk about long days and the pressure between the words makes Thomas wince in sympathy.
Farley notices something is up. Of course, she does.
"Mare came along the other day." She says.
"That's good. "Thomas says, leaning back on her couch and eating the burrito she shoved in his hand because of course he hasn't eaten today and he knows he is too thin.
"Kilorn was here too." Farley continues.
Thomas shrugs. Kilorn Warren and he don't have much history with a few exceptions from bumping into each other because they swim in the same circles.
"She brought your ex."
He has told Farley everything, in the aftermath, after the exploded death star excuse was accepted. She's kind of like his mother. If his mother was a very hard and ass-kicking woman, fighting for rights and doing shady sabotages. She was there when he was homeless, and since then Thomas is rather glad they never really parted ways.
Thomas licks his lips, scratches his chin. Anything. in an attempt to cover whatever his face is betraying.
"I don't really want to talk about it, but whatever. What did they want?"
Farley gives him a long look, and it's clear she will not tell him the truth. It has gotta be something about their revolution shtick.
"This will end bad" Thomas just says, taking a bite. "There, I said it. My spider senses tingle."
He is on his way home from the grocery store when his phone rings and Maven's number appears.
"What's up?" Thomas greets, trying to sound cheerful. In truth, he just wants to go home and sleep.
The voice on the other end of the call is pondering. There's silence. Then a hesitating breath.
"Mave?" Thomas asks. "Did something happen?"
"No. Nothing at all." Maven's voice is stiff. He tries very hard to sound normal. Thomas is not buying a word. But he knows if he asks too much Maven will clam up again.
"Did you like the doodle?" he asks, casual. "I spent my whole lunch break with it."
"You're improving. "Maven whispers and Thomas likes to imagine it helps that they play this game.
"Well, duh, I better. I took lessons. Remember? I said I would." Was that too much? Insecurity is a mean little critter nagging at his heart.
Fishing for his keys in his jacket, Thomas balances the phone on one shoulder. Maven is not saying anything, just listening to him mumbling and cursing low. Because the keys are never where they are supposed to be and now the paper bag has toppled over and fuck you the universe hated Thomas.
And then he says something that makes Thomas heart flutter in his chest with so much hope it's foolish.
"It's good to hear your voice."
"Anytime, pal," Thomas says. For the first time in forever, he truly means something.
The calls are less frequent than the text messages. He wouldn't miss any second of it, even if it's just breathing on the other side or a small voice asking Thomas how his day was.
Thomas talks and tries to sound relaxed and unfazed but under the surface, he feels raw. He thinks of all the times they talked at the bench and of the moments Maven was curled against him. It's like someone is rubbing over the freshly healed scars with sandpaper. Seems that months isn't enough to heal.
He's joking and chattering, their conversations are always centering around something meaningless. Something that gets none of them hurt.
"You were wrong." Maven says one night.
It doesn't sound like an accusation but more of a casual observation. That's the only reason Thomas doesn't flip his shit.
"Tell me about it," he snorts and stretches on his mattress.
"Remember the girls in the coffee shop? The ones you bumped into?"
It's dangerous and very close to breaking the something that has to build up, to the distance and the safe borders of an acquaintanceship.
"Spiky gray and pretty red. Yeah." He waits where this will lead. All he can think about is a tiny precious smile he stored away to remember it forever.
"Well if they ever dated it never went any further. One's going to get married and the other one was dating my brother. Though I am sure that's just a prestigious thing."
"But they were involved, weren't they?" Thomas asks.
There's a pondering pause, choosing perfect words, as always. "One can suspect there were feelings on display."
"Then I wasn't wrong. Because I never said people stay together."
"That much is obvious." It sounds cold.
Thomas feels a stinging sensation spreading through his chest.
"So you'll admit I was right now? Since you and Barrow are too proving my theory."
No answer is enough for him.
"She IS your girlfriend?" Thomas asks. "Isn't she?"
"Why would that be your concern?"
"It's not." And it really isn't.". Just curious."
"Enlighten me. How about you?"
"Had a few flings, but you know me, nothing serious." He blows out a stream of air, trying to sound careless and confident. "let's just say it didn't end well sometimes. And didn't go very far. We're still friends mostly tho."
There's a rustling sound, like sheets turning, and Thomas realizes Maven must be calling from his bed too.
"You've grown your hair out." Maven says, out of nowhere, changing the topic.
"Yeah. Figured when I do the poor artist thing I can look the part."
"You had that awful crippled cut when we met. Some strands long, some short and out of line."
He rolls his eyes even though no one sees it. "It was a rusty scissor and a sink, what do you expect from that?"
"I never expected anything." Maven says and for the second time this night they drift off the safe path.
"I always told you I was terrible." Thomas jokes, but it sounds too hard and too sad.
There's static silence and more rustling sheets when Maven turns, a little creaking sound and a clicking switch.
"It's late." He finally says.
"Yeah. Got work tomorrow. You got stuff too. You always do, smart kid."
"Good night." Maven says stiffly.
Night, pretty boy, Thomas wants to say but catches himself. "Yes, good night, Mave."
It's never as easy to dodge the serious topics after that one call.
They still manage fine most times.
"You sound terrible" Thomas still says when he cleans the tables, phone under his chin, tugged in his shoulder.
Maven takes his time to answer. "I am just tired."
Cameron lurks around the usual spot. She cleans her teeth with her finger. Thomas takes the cleaning rag in his hand and hits her with it.
She flips him off and he smiles before he returns the gesture.
" Lotta pressure for you at the moment? Or some beef with the family?"
"Things are never simple, Thomas, and there's always expectations."
"True." He sighs. "Just try to be...I don't know. Take care. "
He's very, very surprised when Mare texts him.
He hasn't thought about her for a while. He doesn't try to think about Maven too. That's not working so great.
It's an invitation to tag along, because of some movie she wants to watch with friends.
He waits for a while before he writes her back. He doesn't want to seem too desperate.
When he answers, he tells her he'll probably bring one or two people.
But Cameron refuses. "I'm not going anywhere with those filthy silver sons of a bitch if it ain't hell."
"Come on, honey bee." He winks and tries to be charming.
"No." She scoffs.
"Cupcake, please? I'll go to twenty horrible moshpitty concerts with you. I'll smuggle you into a bar. Anything for you, Cookie."
She looks disgusted and shakes her head. "Dude, you ran away from his brother and ugly cried the night. Why would you even consider going? You'll fuck yourself up if he shows up."
"Yeah, probably." He admits.
"Whatever." She turns around and leaves. The door hinges make a squeaking sound and the doorbell clinks. " And don't die, you moron."
Thomas hasn't slept the whole night and he's twenty minutes early.
He just hangs around the parking lot.
Mare and Cal show up first. At the sight of them, something breaks and gets picked up again. Because it's only the two of them but that's worse enough.
When Cal sees Thomas, there's a tense silence, with strained shoulders and very cautious eyes.
"Hey." Thomas waves in the round.
"Mare," Cal sounds like Thomas remembers him. Calm. But there's an edge in his voice. "Did you invite Thomas?" Of all people, it had to be Thomas. Thomas can take that.
It sounds more worried than pissed off.
"What?" She looks up, a little irritated by his insistence. "We know each other and he was at the concert and mentioned Maven, so I thought-"
"Yes, Thomas knew Maven very well," Cal says, hand gripping the bridge of his nose. "And then he left him and never even called."
"Yeah well, I meant to, but it was not like that would have been a good idea." Thomas feels like a jerk. Because he is.
"Wait what?" Mare looks between them. She isn't fast enough to stop the discussion.
"He was pretty down, to say the least," Now Cal looks pissed, and Thomas remembers he could easily just break his body into tiny parts. "It took months. You need to leave. Now."
"Dude, I feel the same way." Thomas takes his bag. It's not quite true. He doesn't say a word about the texts or the calls. Not a word about something so failed and broken even one word can destroy the changes of even remotely fixing it. "Sorry for crashing your weird date or whatever."
For once, Cal stays silent.
"Oh my fucking god," Thomas says because he can't stop himself. "I am right. And you're taking your brother because you never can say no."
"It was my idea," Mare says, shoulders straight. "And if you want to leave, better run, because he's already seen you."
Thomas wants to bang his head against the wall but still just turns around to look at a very familiar face.
For a second it's like they meet at the center in the parking lot, wandering around and trying to connect.
But it's not the same, of course.
"Hey, Mave." Thomas smiles but it's fake and feels wrong. His heart is jumping out of his chest.
Maven looks good, but a little pale all in black.
If this was a normal day before Thomas left him, he'd have cracked a joke. Hey look, we match, haha.
Now he just stands and stares as blue eyes with tiny silver spots in it take in the shitshow before him.
"You said you'd invite other people."
"I'm the other people," Thomas says.
Maven frowns a little.
"Thomas was just about to leave," Cal says.
"Yeah, yeah I guess I was." Thomas nods.
"No, it's okay. He can tag along."
They are all surprised by the words. They even stare all a little. Thomas feels like his eyes will pop out his sockets. This is more than he expected. And everything he hoped for.
"Sure, we're adults about it." Jerk-Thomas makes a face and shrugs. "Lotta water has run down that river."
Now Cal and Mare look like they want to punch him. He follows Maven's hunched over back inside.
At least a movie means no talk. The cinema is empty. Thomas takes a place as far away from them as he can. Freaking crazy people setting up dates or buddies because they can't say no.
Well, he said no to those eyes so often he can count it.
The guilt eats right through him. He watches them talk and laughs and he feels empty.
She's like the glue holding this whole thing together. He sees the lingering gaze. He knows what that gaze means. It promises comfort and it means admiration. You have a good heart, Thomas.
He's really liking her. That's pretty obvious. It feels disgusting to be jealous.
He can't help it.
Also, it makes him a little angry Mare doesn't even seem to realize it.
Thomas makes it halfway through the movie and doesn't even know what they are watching. Feet on the seat in front of him, he just watches flashes of three people.
Then he gets up and decides he has to leave.
The fresh air helps a bit. He sits down on the curbstone and leans his head in his hands.
When feet approach him he's sure Cal has come to riddle him with accusations.
Instead, a black-clad figure sits down next to him, in respectable distance.
"I didn't know you would come."
"Yeah, sorry about that," Thomas whispers. "Should have texted you I was about to burst right in your menage a trois."
"You know that word." Maven huffs.
"I read a few books in the past months." Thomas snorts.
When he looks up he sees blue eyes watching him. Not seeing through. Just absorbing every detail of his face.
"Okay," Thomas admits. "It was one and it was for my art lessons. But it had some fancy words in it. Not menage a trois. I caught that in some movie. "
Something he hasn't thought he'd ever do again happens. He makes Maven smile, lips half tugged up.
When Thomas smiles back the whole thing is undone immediately, as If Maven just caught himself in something he didn't mean to do.
Of course, he didn't.
"I really thought she was your girlfriend." He says because the situation can't get worse. And because he needs to get it out of his system.
There's the coldest of smiles, and it makes Thomas shiver."She's not, clearly."
"Shit happens, Mave, you can't choose who you like."
"Yes, I learned that lesson before."
This is pathetic. Thomas feels like an asshole.
"Was nice meeting you," he still says as he gets up. "Call me if you want to talk or just hang out."
"You don't mean that." Maven answers.
"I do, pal. I knew at least your brother would be here. I still couldn't help it and showed up."
"Art lessons, facing uncomfortable situations," Maven lifts his eyebrows. His voice is dry as the desert sun. And it burns as much. "Look who's growing up."
"Oh, did you learn to channel that positive energy in therapy?" He snaps back.
There's something arrogant in Maven's face. Thomas knows it's just too safe himself and preserve something he doesn't want to show. He still can't help but feel insulted by it. It reminds him of Elara too much.
"No, I learned to acknowledge my fear of abandonment after my best friend abandoned me."
He can't bring himself to say something. Anything really. He wants to tell him of his vulnerability and of Elara sitting at the bench. He doesn't believe what he says next. "Fair enough, I told you, leaving is what I do. I did it twice when we were together, and I will do it again."
"Then do it now." Maven says, hands in his pockets.
"Don't let your brother catch you drooling at his girlfriend." Thomas takes his bag and leaves.
He doesn't turn around.
When he steps into Farley's apartment the next morning, he's hungover and barely alive.
"Please tell me you got coffee."
"You're a mess." She says, smelling him and retreating disgusted. " Where have you been?"
"Obviously I've had the night of my life." He follows her into the kitchen. " I drank my money for this week's groceries. Not literally crushed and drunk it, but, y'know." The memories are blurry. "And then I made out with some dude I don't even remember. I think I left but I'm not sure when? I don't wanna know. "
"You seemed to get your life together," Farley says. Thomas stumbles to her coffee machine. "At least you were not constantly crashing my couch."
"As if I'd want that with you and Shade being all..ewww...That'd be like walking in on my parents."
"If you call me your mother one more time," she threatens mildly.
"Sorry, Captain." He holds the cup in one hand and salutes with the other. Or maybe the cup is the thing holding him in place. "I have a bad case of regret and guilt coming. Maybe lasts a while."
"Is this about how you should have stayed when you didn't?"
"Yeah, yeah it is."