65 Tom's POV

Nothing made sense. Had I been abused? Was it all true? In some ways it did, but in others it didn't feel right at all. I mean, my wife loved me, she really did love me, she stayed with me for years, agreed to marry me and everything. She loved me. And she never laid a bad finger on Buzz.

But she never let me play with Buzz, not in private, and even in public I was generally only allowed to carry him. She always undermined my ability to do anything, made me stop going to therapy once I'd gotten control of myself, and stopped me from doing things I enjoyed. Was that abuse though? Or was that just making me a better person? Did I even need to be a better person? Oh I didn't know, I didn't know! Nothing made sense, some of the things she did felt so necessary, while others didn't seem right.

It was true we weren't like other couples, but was it abuse? It couldn't be... we didn't... we had started out like other couples. Affectionate and loving, all that fun stuff. But after a while she started doing things, saying things, poking holes in what I was doing, what I was wearing, how I was acting. Was that when it started, if this was what Natasha said it was?

Looking around the house, I was hit with so many memories of the things she'd said to me over the years.

"Honestly Tom, why are you still collecting these things? They're meant for children, you're twenty-five!"

"You're seriously wearing a Back To The Future t-shirt again? Don't you have any variety in here, or anything that actually looks smart and presentable?"

"I've barely seen you all week! You're spending too much time with the band, you're never home anymore!"

"STOP, just stop. Do you really think that this is a good enough job? We have a baby Tom! You can't just do the bare minimum anymore, you have to actually get things clean! Do you want Buzz to get ill? Do you want him to get ill and it be your fault, because it will be! Do it again, and properly this time!"

None of it was very kind, but it wasn't cruel as such, she was just trying... she wanted to be proud of me, she wanted to give our son a good father. That was all, was that so wrong? Didn't everyone want to be proud of their partner, to give their children parents who could care for their child properly? Didn't they want to be in a relationship with someone they could love and not have to worry about things somehow going wrong?

Watching Harry and Dougie highlighted the differences in our relationships though. Watching them work together, sharing duties, laughing and smiling. Harry kissing Dougie on the cheek as he walked past to make him blush, Dougie wearing Harry's clothes without complaint. Harry's arm around Dougie's knee as they sat on the sofa together, Dougie's head on Harry's shoulder. They teased each other, but without any hint of malice, or any ill-feeling against the other. They held each other as they slept, held hands as they walked together, touched each other for no reason other than they could. They were happy together, so happy together, perfect for each other in fact. Always had been, anybody could see that from space.

My wife and I hadn't been like that in years, not since she had decided I was useless at everything. She never touched me like that, or spoke to me gently, or stole my clothes to wear them. She didn't share jobs with me, or let me hold her in sleep, or tease me without some sort of message in it. She never did any of that.

And all relationships had some form of that. All of them. Even the not-so-great ones had some form of all of those elements in there, even if the couple fought a lot. There was still love. There was still affection. One didn't stop the other from doing, saying, dressing, acting something, because they didn't like it. They didn't stop them from looking after their child. They didn't... they didn't do the things my wife did.

Natasha had been right. It wasn't just how we worked. It was... my wife had abused me.