Chapter 17: Memories

Tom wasn't feeling terribly peachy in the morning, but that was a given and a relatively normal part of his routine. He'd been initially confused as to the body lying beside him on the bed when he'd woken up, but it hadn't taken him too long to remember last night and all the terrible truths that came with it. After quickly cleaning out his emergency bucket in the bathroom and setting it back down on the side of the bed where Thomas' unconscious body lay, he went to the kitchen.

A glass of water and an aspirin later, he found himself frying some eggs with a more than generous amount of butter and exactly two stripes of bacon (any more at a time and Edd would hunt him down). As he waited patiently for the eggs to finish, Edward entered the kitchen and sat down at the table, one hand supporting the full weight of his head while other rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

"Is some of that for me?" he asked hopefully, suppressing a yawn.

Tom didn't even turn around as he answered, uttering a deadpan "Nope."

Edward seemed more awake now and looked at him inquisitively for a moment. "Is it for Blue?"

Tom blinked in slight confusion before making the connection and snorting, "Why do you call him that anyway?"

Edward paused at that, seemingly contemplative, before he answered with a shrug, "Ah... force of habit I guess."

Blue Reaper had been the nickname Thomas had earned himself among the ranks of the rebellion, a twisted parody to fit him in the same class as Red Leader, a title always mentioned in fearful, panicked whispers.

It was easier for Edward to call him by a pseudonym than the name he'd previously used for a friend. After the sixth time the guy had almost shot him dead, he'd desperately needed that emotional detachment.

(It was the same reason why he only ever called the world's new tyrant Red.)

"So, is it?" he asked again.

Tom gave him weird look but turned back to the sizzling pan, nodding. "How'd you know?"

"Well, the guest room was empty when I went to the bathroom just now, I was wondering if he was in anyone else's. Seems like something happened..."

If Edward noticed his hesitation he didn't show it."...he collapsed in front of my door last night after downing two bottles of vodka."

Edward's eyebrows went up to his hairline, eyes widening slightly. "I thought he was..."

"Yeah."

"Oh." his brow furrowed in thought, "Should I..." he wondered aloud, caught somewhere between apprehension and something akin to hope, but not quite.

Tom shook his head, "I think you'd just make it worse. Maybe Matthew..."

He cut himself off as Edward winced, "I don't think Matthew's really in any state to deal with someone else's problems right now."

Tom pressed a hand to his face, "Ugh, fucking dammit."

He noticed the food was done and turned the stove off, dividing it between two plates and heading back to his room with another glass of water and an aspirin, all the while feeling Edward's stare burning its way into his skull.

Entering his room, he was notified that Thomas was awake by way of an agonized groan coming from the tightly huddled bundle of old man on the bed. Tom made sure to close the door quietly and Thomas seemed to relax a bit once the light from the hallway stopped filtering into the room.

Carefully, Tom set down the plates on his nightstand, opposite the side Thomas was lying on, and sat down on the empty side of the bed, body facing the miserable bundle of blankets and water and pill in hand.

"You need to drink something."

His only answer were a groan and a mumble and he sighed in slight irritation, reaching over to shake the man. This prompted some more miserable mumbling before Thomas finally gave up and struggled to a sitting position at Tom's behest, all the while rubbing all over his temples and forehead as if to soothe the pain.

"You're evil incarnate." Thomas muttered resentfully and Tom chuckled.

"You know, that's actually the second time someone has called me that in the last few days."

"I bet it was deserved..."

"It was Edward."

"...oh."

With that Tom shoved the glass of water and the pill into his hands and watched critically as Thomas downed both of them before taking one of the still steaming plates and presenting it to him. Thomas recoiled, lips twisted in disgust at the terrible sight of two eggs on toast and a strip of bacon.

"I don't really think I can stomach anything."

Tom rolled his eyes, "I know you're out of practice but you should know how this goes. It's not like I have much of an appetite either."

Thomas sighed reluctantly but relented, grabbing the plate and nibbling at a corner of the bread. Tom grabbed his own plate and took a hearty, greasy bite. The sooner he got this over with the sooner his insides would stop rebelling. They ate in silence for the most part and Tom finished up in minutes.

"You're being oddly nice."

Tom snorted, "I'm being a decent person who knows quite literally exactly how awful you feel right now."

"We were screaming profanities at each other a week ago."

"...I still don't like you, not really. But..." Tom sighed, "...it's hard to lay all the blame on you after last night."

Thomas shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. He could barely remember last night, but he did know he'd probably spilled one too many secrets.

"And this is your first hangover in years, and a bad one at that, I should at least help you through that." Tom added, sensing Thomas' discomfort. He usually wasn't one to sugarcoat or soften the blow, but he really didn't know how to act around Thomas anymore and it made this whole thing rather awkward for him.

"Thanks..." Thomas muttered, still nibbling away at his food.

Tom fidgeted a bit, a question burning in his throat before he finally decided to just ask. "Do you really not remember anything from... before?"

Thomas tensed but sighed, as if resigned to this situation, "I do, actually."

Tom startled, "But you said-"

"I had amnesia." Thomas interrupted just to get this over with, "For about two and a half years. And then my memories started coming back to me bit by bit."

"...then you knew he was lying to you."

Thomas started nodding but regretted it immediately, wincing. "I did."

Tom looked incredulous. "Why didn't you just leave?"

Thomas sighed and set the plate down on his lap, electric green eyes looking anywhere but him, "...I considered it, and I asked myself the same question for months. But in the end... I couldn't do it. Tord... he's a bastard, and a part of me hated him for everything he's done to us, to me. But I... I've saved his life many times before, and without me there... I just couldn't bear the thought of him dying, of, of losing him..."

Tom grimaced in borderline disgust, but also in concern. "You've got it bad."

Thomas chuckled bitterly. "Tell me about it."

Tom frowned, "It's so strange to hear... I can't even imagine... ugh." he gave up after a few false starts, covering his face with one hand in mild embarrassment.

Thomas' small laugh was a bit lighter this time. "Oh believe me, it was weird for me too when I first remembered."

"Does he know?"

The amused smile froze on Thomas' face, "Ah... no. I was...too terrified to tell him. I guess I still am. There's a delicate balance between us, I wouldn't want to upset it."

Tom shot him a doubtful look that barely masked his concern. "If that's what you want to call it..."

Thomas wordlessly picked his plate back up and kept eating. He was silent throughout the rest of the morning.

AN:

aaaaaand here's everything i didnt manage to fit into last chapter, plus a lil bonus of tom and thomas having a sober, civil conversation

your comments keep my motivation alive and are greatly appreciated! also if you wanna talk to me, about this fic or literally anything else, I'm on tumblr, also as Lunahras ^^