101 Tom's POV

I didn't want to go to bed, but I was desperate to hide away. Desperate to get away from all of this, the voices screaming in my head, the panic that I couldn't shake, and everything in between.

I was so exhausted, so damn exhausted. Today hadn't been good, today had been awful. And it was all over a bloody shirt, a damn shirt that shouldn't affect me like it did. It was just a shirt, that matched my sons, and yet I couldn't stop feeling eyes on me all day, my wife's laughter and taunts echoing through my head every time I caught sight of Buzz. It was just a shirt, just a damn shirt.

"Then you failed to read your son a bedtime story. Honestly, having Danny step in was pathetic. How could you possibly fail so badly that Danny had to step in to hold your child? Buzz is going to start hating you soon, forgetting that your his father. You'll be nothing more than the man who lives in the house."

I closed the door to my room in defeat, sliding down the wood and curling into a ball. Everything felt shaky, too close and wrong. Everything was wrong, none of this was right at all. Nothing I had done today felt right, not in the slightest. I had been sure that someone was going to start laughing at any second, start taunting, start treating me like I was incredibly stupid. I felt incredibly stupid, and absolutely pathetic.

Matching outfits with a baby, idiotic plan. Such an idiotic plan. I was supposed to be proving that I could make decisions for myself, and that I was an actual adult, not a stupid boy with ridiculous whims. I deserved to be shouted at, ridiculed for this.

"Who says they're not ridiculing you downstairs? Who says they're not down there right now, laughing hysterically at your stupid idea? They probably are you know, they're laughing and they're never going to see you as an adult ever again. You've just proven yourself to be a very, very pathetic man."

I had, I had just proven it. It had been such a mistake, such a stupid action. I should have left it alone, should have ignored that urge and done something else. Something that only affected me, only had to do with me, that was all. Not my son, not my band mates, nothing.

I should have done some song writing, or something like that. Something useful. Not fanciful. That would have been better, it would have been productive, and so much better than what I did. What kind of father chose to do something for his own pathetic desires, instead of doing something productive and good with his time? I should have done something else, something productive, not decided that an outfit was on the top of my list of priorities.

But it had felt like such a simple decision the other day. It wasn't intruding on anybody else, wasn't going to affect anybody. It was just an outfit. Outfits could be screwed up, but it didn't affect anybody but the wearer.

"And you just forced your son to look like you all day." I had, I had and it was such a mistake. "Who would want to look like you all day? You're such a failure. It's bad enough that he looks like you facially, and then you decided to draw attention to your likeness. Like anybody wants to be reminded that you procreated."

I wouldn't do it again, I swore I would never do it again. We would never dress similarly ever again. "Don't even think of dressing him in those geeky tops either. He's not like you, and it's embarrassing to see him parading around in geek shirts he doesn't understand." I wouldn't, I wouldn't. I didn't even have any for him, had never bought any. I certainly hadn't got any for myself either, they were all gone, all hidden away so I couldn't get to them.

I wouldn't do this again, wouldn't do any of this again. I wouldn't chose anything like this, not after today. If Natasha insisted, I'd think of something else, something less ridiculous, less likely to backfire. I wasn't going to do this again, never, ever again.