"Let's go!" The blond boy broke the hug, grabbing hold of Thomas's hand he lead him down the stairs. Thomas felt eyes on him like sharp daggers while turning into the waiting room. Without looking he knew it was the other children of the home. Their jealous turned to hatred, that burned hard and deep. Thomas didn't know if there was a feeling beyond hatred, but if there was. The owners of those eyes would be feeling that towards him.
"Ignore them Thomas." His brogue rolled over Thomas, as he pulled them to a stop in front of the waiting room door. "You won't see them again. I promise." Those storm cloud eyes, flickered dark grey looking around Thomas. He spoke directly at the children lurking behind him. "Or for the rest of his time here!" He voice turned harsh, and the very air around him came alive. Like magic, the sound of pounded feet bounced off the walls. The children, and their hatred running at the words of just one boy.
"That was amazing." Thomas turned around, looking in wonder at the empty hall, and doorways. Not even the rows could make the children scatter like that, not even in the worst of their moods. Thomas could on good days, but it was not the same thing at all.
"It's nothing." A hand on his shoulder tugged him around. Soft blue eyes look at Thomas, they were very gentle, reminding Thomas of their hug. It made them feel warm. "I wish I could have come sooner."
"It's not like you knew I was here?" Thomas said with a question. Trying, for the first time to comfort another.
"You don't deserve to be treated this way." Ignoring Thomas's words he grumbled on. Thomas sighed, talking was hard he decided. Looking at the frustrated boy, he didn't know how to comfort another, but he could detract him maybe?
"What's your name?" Thomas knew his family name was O'Sullivan.
"Lars, didn't I tell you that?" Lars lifted his head from his grumblings. Thomas shook his head. "Well, Thomas, can I call you Thomas?" Thomas nodded quickly, happy to be called by his name. "This place is enough to make a person hate muggles, but you'll be out this place soon." Lars sighed, looking around. "This place isn't fit for a dog."
"Muggles?" Thomas titled his head. Thomas surely would have remembered hearing such a word before. It sounded silly, and made up. Lars said it with such everyday ease, that Thomas doubted that was the case. Lars groaned and slapped his forehead with his hand.
"Sorry, I wasn't suppose to say anything until we get you out of this dank place." Lars put of up hand, thumb facing his chest, and his pinky facing Thomas. He winked at Thomas and said. "Forgive me?"
"Ah, sure." Thomas nodded agreeing. In his mind there was nothing to forgive. Not knowing what a word meant, was no bid deal to Thomas. There was many things he didn't know, of that Thomas was certain, so what was one more?
"Oh," Lars smack a fist into his open hand. "Do you have anything you want to bring with you?" Lars looked Thomas up and down, "Besides clothes, we'll get you new ones." Lars nose wrinkled. Thomas looked down at himself, he didn't know why he did; he only had a handful of outfits. All old plaid that smelled like smoke or grease, and old jeans. Cut of to fit his short legs, and tied at the waist with a yellow fraying rope. Thomas grimaced, it generally didn't bother him, but next to Lars, he did look rather bad.
"They're all I have." Thomas turned his face away. His stomach feeling like it dropped. It felt bad, if his stomach fell any lower, it would be at his feet.
"Ah!" Lars took his face in his hands, turning Thomas's face towards him. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad!" Lars kissed the tip of Thomas's noise. Thomas blink, and blinked again. Can boys do that? He had seen Mrs. Row give the girls the odd peck, but never, never had he seen a boy get a peck. "I just wanted to know if you have anything important to bring."
"I'm good." Thomas blinked. Lars still had a hold of his face. "I have all I need here." Thomas patted his jean pocket. The other things he carved disappeared with the Old Man. With the necklace around his neck, and his knife in his pocket. In Thomas mind, he felt he could go anywhere. "Um, could you let go of my face now?" Thomas's eyes darted from Lars swirling eyes, to the very interesting spiderweb forming in the far corner of the door.
"Sure." Lars dropped his hands. Thomas's put a hand to his chest. His heart beat, which was always slow and steady, ran a mile under his hand. Lars brought with him a storm of new feelings. Thomas wasn't sure if he could handle much more of them! "Since your ready, let me take you to my parents." Lars pulled Thomas's hand straight off his chest and into his hand. Pulling Thomas along, Lars open the door, calling out. "Mom, Father, I brought him!"
Into the door was the waiting room. Not bad in size, it must have been impressive back in the day. Without much care taking into it's appearance of late, it became tattered like the rest of the manor. The boys in blue playing on the wallpaper, were faded and yellow on most of the wallpaper. The wood wainscotting, a fancy word Thomas discovered, for the woodcarving that went up have the wall. Were nicked and rubbed. The sight of the faded cravings always made Thomas feel a bit sad.
"Thomas!" His name rolled in a happy lit off the tall women's tongue. Dressed neatly in a pink sun dress, she rushed over, long blond hair flowing behind her. Stopping only to smothered Thomas in a hug. Thomas once again was at a lost at what to do, was this a thing now? Thomas darted his eyes to Lars. Who motioned at him to hug her back.
"Um, hello." Thomas whispered through the blond veil of hair covering his eyes. He didn't feel comfortable hugging her like he did Lars. Unlike Lars's hug, hers felt soft, like the time Thomas stole a blanket right off the line. He couldn't if he wanted to anyway, because his arms were pinned firmly under her squishing grip. The faint smell of sweetness tugged at Thomas's nose, she smelled like the sun on a spring day. "Mrs. O'Sullivan." Thomas finished his thought feeling embarrassed.
"Sorry my boy!" A charming and deep voice spoke to Thomas. The voice was similar to Lars, but deeper. Thomas figured it must have been Lars's father. "We're huggers."
"Um, that's okay, but..." Thomas didn't mind, being hugged was a warm feeling, but Thomas wasn't used to it, and blonde hairs were making Thomas's nose itch. The last thing he wanted to do was sneeze into her hair!
"Mom let him go before you make him even more uncomfortable!" Lars said, Thomas silently thanked Lars, for once again reading his mind. He was let go, inside his face was held, once again by two hands.
"But he's so cute!" Mrs. O'Sullivan had eyes like her son, they danced between colours before settling on a happy blue. "I can't wait to take him home!" Thomas wasn't sure how he felt about being called cute, he was a boy after all. Seeing Mrs. O'Sullivan look happy kneeing on the nasty carpet in the waiting room. Thomas decided right than and there. If she wanted to call him cute, he wouldn't mind one bit.
"One of the girls would be a much better choice. If your looking for cute, Madame." Mrs. Row crooked coo broke the moment between Thomas and Lars's Mom.
"I have already told you. We are here for Thomas!" Mrs. O'Sullivan turned with a flip of her hair, she went from holding Thomas's face, to standing in front of him. Lars came over to stand by Thomas.
"She's going into mama bird mode." Lars whispered to Thomas. "This women is asking for it."
"Mama bird?" Thomas whispered back, not entirely sure what Lars meant.
"You'll see." Lars motioned for him to be quite with a finger to his lips. Thomas took his cue and watched, all from behind Lars's Mom.
"He's not normal." Mr. Row spoke up from a old dust chair. His face twisted into disgust with his eyes looking towards Thomas. "We keep him out of the goodness of our hearts."
"Ngh," Lars's snorted, looking equity, if not more disgusted than Mr. Row.
"You mother had this." Lars's father came over, the perfect picture of a gentleman. Thomas looked up at him. He colours were rather plain, all brown with pale skin. He carried himself with an easy grace. Thomas could picture him being one of the poets that the Old Man used to teach him about. His straight nose starring into the blank pages of a book, creating poems with a upright back and wooing hearts with his words.
"Does your father write poetry?" Thomas couldn't resistant asking. Sparkling at the idea of one of his poets coming to life- right in front of him! "I don't think so?" Lars whispered back, his brows tugged together in confusion. Lars's father winked at Thomas. Making Thomas think that maybe he did.
"I will not have your James, Brittany's or any other child!" Mrs. O'Sullivan said glaring down the Rows with her hands folded over her arms.
"He is a demon child!" Mr. Row snarled, pointed a fat finger at Thomas, making him wince. He had heard the word all his life, but the O'Sullivan's had not and he didn't want them to either. It felt to nasty for such a nice family. "There I said it!" Mr. Row stood, and with a shake of his belly started to march forward. Right towards Thomas! "Look at his ears, their pointed, like the devils!" Thomas shrank into his shirt, if he could, he would disappear from this room.
"You will not insult Thomas in front of me." Lars said his voice becoming a dark and clouded storm of brogue and anger. Moving he slap the offending hand that was still out stretch. "He's better than a handful of your lot."
"You know what, maybe your not a good fit for Thomas." Mrs. Row chimed in. "It's best he stays with us." Thomas's stomach dropped to his toes, the faint idea of joining the O'Sullivan family dashing away with Mrs. Row's words.
"We already did the necessary paperwork." Mr. O'Sullivan spoke up. "This was simply suppose to be an explanation for Thomas, before we left." Moving in front of his son, he continued. "I've think his had enough." Mr. O'Sullivan eyes never left Mr. Row. Thomas could see the sweat poor off him. "You are ready to leave this place Thomas."
"Please." Thomas said nodded his head. To be anywhere, somewhere other than here, was always a dream for Thomas.
"Then let us be on our way." Mrs. O'Sullivan spoke taking Thomas by the hand she started to leave.
"We won't let you!" Mr Row snarled. "That demon deserves to stay locked up!"
"It is only by out grace that he lives, and other's survive his presence!" Mrs. Row echoed her husbands feeling. She stood up and tried to walk over to Thomas. Both Lars and his mom stopped her.
"Haven't you done enough!" Mrs. O'Sullivan snapped waving a hand to ward off Mrs. Row. "If you didn't want him adopted, why did you sign him off?" Mr. O'Sullivan asked a calm in the storm.
"We signed off a child, not Thomas, we thought once you saw the little freak. You would come to your senses and pick one of the others!" Mr. Row pushed his sweaty chest into Mr. O'Sullivan. "Who knew that you would be fools."
"Devil practitioners." Mrs. Row cried, pulling a sliver cross out of her shriveled bosom. Thomas winced, moving backwards and way from Mrs. Row. He had that thing pressed into his face, higher than he could count.
"That's enough." Mr. O'Sullivan said. "Merry take the boys." Mr. O'Sullivan pulled out a long wooden stick from inside his vest. Thomas shook his head, how would a stick help here?
"Lars hang onto Thomas." Mrs. O'Sullivan pulled the pair towards her. At her words Lars tugged Thomas into his arms.
"Maybe you should just go without me." Thomas said feeling bad for this. It was only matter of time before the police were called, and they would side with the Rows. No matter what they did, the O'Sullivan's were like Thomas, they were outsiders.
"Trust me. Father has this." Lars smiled, his narrow blue-grey eyes looking into Thomas's directly, without a hint of wavering.
"Okay." Thomas's nodded trusted not just those eyes but his instincts that told him Lars's wasn't lying.
"You might make you a little dizzy," Mrs. O'Sullivan whispered. "Bare with it." Her arms came around them. Thomas tense his body up, waiting for the hit, or whatever was about to happen. Thomas wanted to tun, but he said he would trust Lars, so he stayed. Though his whole body wanted to get away.
"I fear not your evil witch!" Mrs. Row yelled at the three off them huddle at the floor, and Mr. Row shouted at Lars's father.
"You think I'm afraid of your stick, demon!" Mr. Row voice turned hoarse at the end. Thomas didn't get to see what happen next. The room turned into a shimmering wave. Thomas dug his hands into Lars's scarf, his heart beat went wild, and just as the room started to spin. They disappeared from the room. The last thing Thomas heard of the familiar squawk of Mrs. Row's scream.