105 Danny's POV
Waking up in the morning, I showered and dressed, heading downstairs to find Tom and Buzz already in the kitchen. Buzz was eating his cereal, mostly managing to make a mess of milk over his face and his high chair. Tom was cooking a full fry up breakfast, the bacon sizzling deliciously in the pan, though it didn't really appeal to me right now. I'd learnt to associate fry ups with therapy days, as Tom always made it before his appointment, almost like he was trying to give us a treat, or maybe give us something 'nice' on a stressful day.
I half wished he didn't do it, so he had a little time to himself, but he insisted, and if it was part of his little ritual, and it kept him calm, I wasn't going to argue over it. Tom was perfectly entitled to whatever ritual that made him feel better, especially on therapy days, which stressed him out and usually caused more stress throughout the week. I just... I just wished his rituals involved less running around and waiting on us. I wished his ritual involved a lay in, a relaxing shower, and having a nice breakfast cooked for him.
"Morning." I hid my useless worry behind a smile, sitting down next to Buzz at the table, "Enjoying that kiddo?" I used his bib to wipe some of the milk off his face. In turn, Buzz smiled cutely at me, waving his spoon like it was the most fantastic thing he had ever seen.
"Breakfast is nearly ready." Tom answered, as always, dishing up quickly and placing the plate in front of me. I had stopped asking if I could help, as I was always told that it was fine, so I had learnt to leave it alone. Better to let Tom know that help was offered, but leave him alone, than mess with his head. His head was already all over the place, he didn't need me poking him on top of that.
Harry and Dougie soon strolled in, seating themselves opposite to me, receiving their breakfast just as quick as I had. Only then, did Tom actually sit down, making a token effort to finish his own breakfast. He managed half of it, which wasn't too bad, wiped Buzz down, and set off to do his usual morning jobs. Washing the dishes, cleaning down the kitchen, and hoovering the whole of downstairs, by which point it was time to leave.
"Tom, it's time to go." I told him, as he finished packing his bag for Buzz, slinging it over his shoulder and carrying his son out to the car. Buzz was quite happy in his carrier, sitting happily and playing with the toy in his hand, pointing out the cars as they went past.
He truly was a wonderful child, and I could see so much of the old Tom in him. Those brown eyes were fascinated and playful, full of life and intelligence. Tom used to have the same eyes, the same level of wonder in them. I wished he still had it. But sadly all the wonder was gone, the life dulled, all that was left was a tightness around his eyes thanks to stress.
I'd take it away if I could, wished I could take it all away, but I couldn't. I wished, more than anything that I could.
Soon, the psychiatrist building loomed ahead, large and intimidating. I wished it wasn't, but it was actually terrifying to sit there and look up at it. Even though Tom had been here before, Dougie too, it still gave me chills. I remembered all too well what it was like when Dougie stayed in this building when he was ill, the thought of Tom getting that bad, of Natasha deciding that he couldn't come home, was terrifying.
I couldn't think of that though, I had to believe that things would be okay, that Tom was able to manage outside of this place. He wouldn't need to put inside and kept here, separated from us, his home, and his son. God, what if they decided to separated Tom from Buzz? They couldn't... it wasn't... they couldn't do that. They just couldn't. The world had been cruel enough to Tom as it was, they couldn't make that worse.