113 Dougie's POV
As our campaign to give Tom some physical affection continued, he seemed to relax and open up, little by little. Never by much, nothing hugely note-worthy, but he did start to open up in pieces. He answered a few more of our questions, allowed himself to join in with a joke, hell sometimes he even laughed with us. He laughed, didn't just flash a smile that never reached his eyes, he laughed, like he should have been all along.
The first time Tom laughed, I nearly teared up, unable to believe that he was finally laughing again. It had been something so simple, just Buzz laughing at a face Danny was pulling at him, but Tom laughed with him, he joined in with it. He allowed himself to be happy, for just those few seconds, he allowed himself a small piece of happiness. I couldn't believe it, watching a small piece of life come back to Tom, seeing him look genuinely happy, it was like it raining after being in the desert for too long. Like coming up for air after being underwater for too long. Like seeing colour in a world of black and white.
I knew that feeling well, knew what it felt like it finally feel that smallest bit of happiness again, feeling comfortable enough to show that happiness. It was huge, and while it was such a simple thing to the rest of the world, I knew that it would be a huge shift to Tom. He'd realise that there was light now, that there was a chance of getting back to normal, that he could be better again. It was a monumental realisation, one that took a long time to come to terms with. But he'd do it, he'd always do it, with ours and Natasha's help, he'd manage it.
"It gets easier, you know." I told him just hours later, when I saw the frown lines across his forehead, the look of deep thoughts on his face.
"Huh?" Tom looked up at me, before looking away again, hands fiddling with the duster he'd been semi-using.
"It gets easier. With the laughter and everything, it gets easier." I answered, unsure on how else to put it. I wanted to reassure him that even though it felt weird now, it did get simpler, and it did start to feel good again. That I understood that he felt weird now, like he'd done something wrong, even when at the time it had felt so right.
"I, I know." Tom stuttered out, while more confident with actually replying, he still seemed hesitant, like his contributions to conversation were going to get him in trouble.
"It just feels weird right now, doesn't it? Like you've done wrong, even though it felt right at the time." I leant against the wall, doing my best to look as unthreatening as possible. I wasn't a particularly scary looking person, too weedy and short for that, but the thought counted, when it came to Tom.
Tom looked hesitant to answer, his face showing that he was chewing over potential replies to that.
"It's fine to feel that way, you know. You've spent a long time being sad, beating down everything and ignoring it. Feeling something again does start to feel wrong." I squeezed his arm, "It's okay to feel it, it's not wrong or anything. It's all a learning curve, just like everything else. But, if you ever want to talk about it, or if you need some support, I'm here, and I understand more than most, alright?" I wanted him to know that, that I was here if he needed me. This whole thing was so tough to understand, and incredibly difficult to go through, sometimes a therapist wasn't enough. Sometimes you needed someone who had gone through something similar to listen and support you.
"Thank you." Tom whispered, looking genuinely surprised by that.
"Any time, you know that." I smiled, "This whole thing is very confusing and weird to deal with, sometimes it helps to have someone around you who can listen and get it, you know?" it's what we had always done, ever since I had gotten out of rehab. Tom and I had had therapists, and all the support in the world from Danny, Harry and our families, but sometimes, we'd just needed each other. We had similar experiences with our depressive episodes, had had similar thoughts and feelings, had gone through the therapy cycle. No-one else understood that, and it had really helped to just talk to each other. Or ask simple questions like 'did you do this too?' and get confirmation that you weren't the only one with that particular habit.
It all just helped, and while I knew absolutely nothing about abusive relationships, or parenting, I knew what it was like trying to recover after having so much taken away, to learn who you were again. I could help with that, I knew I could help with that.