Thomas
His dreams are a wild mix of nightmare material. Nagging panic from the hazy memories. Weird sounds and voices.
The sweet taste of humiliation. The stench and white walls of a hospital.
Elara too, smiling. Like the cat that got the cream.
And his family, of course. Mixed with the face of his father.
Thomas father stares in an indecisive mixture of disbelief and irritation. There are dislike and disappointment behind the glare Thomas receives. Even after all the times, he has received that glare, it still hurts.
When he wakes up on the mattress, half buried between a pile of blankets and mismatched pillows, he finds himself alone.
The music seeps through cracks along the headphones and the head wearing them. Black hair curling along ears and a neck stubborn. It's not as much disheveled as Thomas hair must look like, but still not perfect in shape. A little like someone pushed it back while thinking. It's the only sign of too many hours awake and too little sleep. At least from this angle.
It's hard to determine how late it is with the white light reflected from the snow. There's a cup set right to his hand resting on the table. Occasionally typing, one hammering second and a changing flickering text or image.
Thomas actually admires the concentration. He can barely concentrate on things he doesn't like. Maybe he is just too lazy. He forgets things and stumbles. He can't even remember his own phone number or other combinations. He has the same password for everything. And that's so easy to guess it is a good thing he's too unimportant for people to hack into it. There are too many notes pinned with bright magnets on the fridge that prove it. Lanky and uneven letters climbing on paper, half-forgotten.
Maven is not reacting when Thomas closes the door, bare feet on the cold floor. His shoulder hurts like hell, but it's not the worst he ever had. When you get in your share of fights or accidents you learn some things about pain. The best thing is that it will just go away. It takes time and it will stop hurting. Can't say that for all sorts of pain.
"Hey, pretty boy." Thomas tries voice only slightly louder than a whisper not to wake up his sister too.
She's still mighty pissed about the whole deal. Family dinner, and his disappearance before. No need to wake her up now and make her even more angry.
This weekend was the worst, he decides, not even wanting to think about family dinner anymore.
Sure, his mother was nice, she really tried. She always tries. He's a terrible son and a runaway, she'd probably do anything to get him to stay and not turn away again.
She asked Thomas some inappropriate questions, but that's just how she is. She doesn't mean anything ill by it. And she was sensible enough around Maven. Even though he was uncomfortable and a little thrown off.
Remembering Elara again, Thomas has never been gladder his mother is a considerate and friendly woman. She can spit fire, telling his father off later that evening proved that. And she didn't let anyone off the hook. Persistence is a feature you probably need with kids that do what they want, running havoc and turning up in prison or at dangerous protests. And patience. For the second when your husband starts his talk and won't let go. And gets more insulting with every second.
His little sister isn't to fault. She is just a kid that was trying really hard to be polite. Also, Maven is terrible with children. And Ida was terrible unsure how to even react around that. They watched each other like one could grow tentacles any second. Kind of cute too and his stomach hurt from laughing too much when Ida just straight up shook his hand way too long.
Hannah was indecisive at worst, not even jabbing that much at Maven. She hates his guts, no way to overlook that with the way her nose crinkles and she turns away. But she kept her quiet through most of it. Her father probably expected her to jump right in. She didn't. Probably was too busy documenting the turn of events. And she texted the whole evening, he doesn't want to know who.
He considers Cameron and some other suspects, and the thought isn't to his liking. He still has to face consequences for disappearing to Cameron. And she was probably going mildly crazy from worry, punching things and wandering around.
Would be a good thing if the texting wasn't related to him at all. She's a grown ass woman, she could be dating someone.
Now that he thinks about it he has never even considered the thought. She's working all the time, and if she is not at work she's up and away. Fighting, protests, discussions, you name it, she's around.
Who would someone as busy as his sister even date?
Some possibilities. She got a raise. As some assistant, she could smooch someone silver. But then again she's got ideals. Maybe she'd be too engrossed to fall. She also hangs around the crooked house. One of the guys there. She's friends with Cameron and Ada at least. Maybe one of them spills it when he is around next time.
Or maybe he should accidentally bump into Farley again and pester her or Shade. But he'd probably loose more from that encounter than he could earn. He misses them. But they don't take too good on his situation. He feels weird around Farley. Like he has just kicked her and doesn't even realize it.
Or what if he's from the Stilts? His sister spends more time at home than he ever did. And their mother is friends with Barrows Mom, and she used to have a crush on one of Barrows brothers.
Fruitless effort to guess. She'd not tell him anyway. Not as long as Maven is still around. She has severe paranoia even having him around, though she tries her best not to show it too much.
For a moment, Thomas studies Maven in his kitchen. He's somehow accustomed to the sight by now. It took some time. He melts into the background by now, not sticking out anymore. Sure, it's still too little space. It's still too stuffed. It's bright and not at all how Maven would probably decorate anything. But it's home. What would Thomas ever give to keep him here? Because he was home too when he was homeless and he wants him to be now too.
There is something endearing to it now. How he just rummages through the hanging cupboards to find a mug. Or just uses the laptop he shares with Hannah and sits there.
This freaking table has seen a lot of things and people these past months.
"Hey," Thomas tries again, but the music drowns his voice and pushes it away from Maven's figure on the table. He taps against the shell of the headphones.
With a snap the figure at the table turns the head, eyes scanning his surroundings.
"You said five minutes," Thomas jokes. "I miss you stealing my blanket."
With a last welling up, the music stops and headphones are removed. "The weekend was so busy I had to finish some things."
Thomas pulls back the chair next to Maven and sighs low. He agrees with the busy part.
The image on the screen looks like a much cleaner and bigger apartment building than the one Thomas lives in. Not as fancy as the one he's currently in, but still, he'd probably need two more jobs to get rent over.
"You finally decided you wanna move in a place of your own?" he asks, studying the picture of the clean high ceiling and smooth open kitchen. "A little big for one person. But then again look how you live now."
With one swift move, the tab disappears.
"It's… something like that. " Comes the pondering answer. "Some unlikely plans for the future."
I'd move in with you there, Thomas wants to say. Not so unlikely.
His heart makes a happy little jump at the assumption. But he doesn't say it. Baby steps for cowards. Patience. This weekend was a mess. They have to work through all of it. But he doesn't feel like discussing family dinner right now.
"Plans at least mean you try to get forward," he says instead. "Forward is good. Forward is progress, right?"
The only answer is an indifferent hum, but perhaps that's for the best.
For a while, they breathe next to each other, a steady rhythm.
Thomas pulls his chair a little closer in between breaths until he could just already hop over on Maven's lap.
He only stops when a pair of blue eyes look over. "How is your arm?"
"I had it worse." He slings his good arm around the still form on the chair. "Someone tried to kill me, right?" Thomas asks. "I don't just make it up? Someone shoved me down the stairs."
"We can agree someone wanted to hurt you."
"Yeah we know I didn't slip." Thomas feels the need to confirm. "The elevator wasn't coming up. It was so angry. I just wanted out." He tries to remember. It's a little dizzy. But is that the alcohol or the fall?
"I saw the blood. For a second I was sure I'd find your body." He says and it's a cold whisper on Thomas skin.
"I have a thick skull and a lot of luck." Thomas tries to reassure him, pressing his nose against the skin just below his ear, breathing against the crook of a neck. A vein hammering, a pulse rushing. The only visible sign of how upset Maven is.
"No need to test it. You'll never be in the same room as any of those people ever again."
His hands grip Thomas harder for a moment. There's something in the way his eyebrows knit together and his mouth forming a thin sharp line that screams about bloody murder.
"Never say never," Thomas huffs, trying to lighten the mood before they drift into dangerous lands soon enough again. "Just don't pretend you don't care. Next time I'll be the boyfriend. We could be the scandal of the party."
The hand holding onto him lets go and Thomas retreats to his own chair.
Maven frowns slightly. "No."
"I hope there's better food next time." He sighs. "I'd get shoved again for something really tasty."
"No." Maven repeats.
"And I should wear my bowtie." Thomas insists. Where is that blasted thing, by the way? Did he ever get it back?
"No." Something inside him seems to be broken on repeat but the decline isn't as insistent as before. He sounds bemused.
"There should be dancing."
"I hope not."
Thomas snorts. "Have you seen me dance? We never went out for you to witness THAT."
The thin lines of anger are smoothing quickly, leaving only sharp cheekbones and an almost amused tug on lips. "I occasionally watched you flailing through the room when you think no one would see. But that's not the dancing that'd be occurring."
Now he positively laughs imagining waltzing through the room.
He looks at his hurt arm. Things can never be easy, can they? Lucky enough he didn't have to stay in the hospital. Or that there was a very pleasant Lady he trusts enough not to freak out when he had to be alone.
"I guess there's no sense in reporting it." Or even talking about it.
Blue eyes freckled with silver follow his look, and there are gears turning. Thomas can almost feel the thoughts rushing through that brain.
"With highly decorated members of our society in the same room? Some of those members are allegedly leading political stances. And head figures of the police were there too." Almost nonchalantly, like they are discussing the weather.
"No guessing without knowing who did it anyway." He shrugs.
There's another long lingering silence. It turns heavy. Maven just holds his cup and pretends to look into the dark liquid.
"Some people might think this is my doing." It comes unexpected.
"You talked to my sister, didn't you?" Thomas scoffs.
"She's most certainly not alone in the belief it'd do harm to you ."
Old asshole Maven could pull it off. The one lying and stabbing people in the back. The one that's not trying. But you're not doing that anymore, are you?
He doesn't even want to give the thought a second. It doesn't deserve it.
"You weren't helpful that evening. But it was my own fault too. And everyone was an asshole. Except pretty Red and Iris."
If there was a red alarm springing into life behind Maven , complete with a howling siren, his sudden interest could not be more clear. "Iris?"
"Yeah, has crazy nice grey eyes, pretty polite, and her tattoos are awesome?"
"I wasn't aware you two were acquainted." There's something sharp in the line of his mouth again for a moment, but it fades way too fast for Thomas to identify the cause of it.
Thomas shrugs. "Picked up the papers after the bullshit confetti. Not like we are besties or something. Why is that a problem?"
Because silver and red don't mix well, you idiot, a voice in his head still insists. He feels a little sting looking back at the evening over the skyline and the way people treated him like dirt again.
Maven has regained control over his poker face again.
"Curious. That is all."
He's not telling something. It's unnerving.
Thomas doesn't want to spell out the most obvious suspect. He still does.
"We didn't talk about your mother, Mave."
"Ah, well. You always assume my mother tries to kill you."
And I am crazy for thinking about it?
Thomas makes a face.
"She said stairs were slippery and she didn't want me to get hurt. And a few days later somehow I get pushed down after she threatens me again? I don't need to be super clever to know that's obvious."
"My mother loves to threaten people, especially if she thinks they are weak. But that was a very sloppy execution. She isn't sloppy, whatever you may think about her."
He doesn't even deny the possibility of a murder. A shiver runs over Thomas' spine at the prospect of Elara just murdering people. But then again she'd probably have people do it for her. Or she just ruins lives otherwise and plays the long run. He can imagine her finding more solace in that than just killing and letting everyone off the hook.
"Maybe she had another plan but it somehow didn't carry out. Also, she was talking about family business with me before she left. You got a whole murderous lot of kin."
"Someone could have probably tried to impress her. I have a few suspects I'd not rule out. Some lack the flair and sensitivity to maneuver without getting caught in their ambitions. She could just tell them how unfortunate it would be if you would get hurt and they'd gladly try and please her."
"Your family is fucked up." Thomas shakes his head.
"Let's not analyze our families. Not at this hour." The screen dies slowly, and in the dim grey light Thomas could swear Maven is a ghost, slowly wandering away from the kitchen table. Almost soundless and without any colour.
"Sleep a bit?" Thomas gets up, following into his small room.
"Keeping you company, at least."
"Alright." Thomas whispers, slipping under the covers. There's the offer of an outstretched arm this time, and when he takes it and slides right into a warm embrace, a mouth gets caught on his jaw, a little fluttering kiss beside his cut and tense shoulders slowly relaxing.