It was two days later when Marcus finally caught up to Tomas. The boy was surprisingly good at keeping out of his way and even though Marcus could've just requested the office to call Tomas into the teachers' lounge, he didn't want to make a fuss or force the kid. What happened on the school basketball court had rattled him, but he was sure that forcing Tomas to talk about it wouldn't help the matter, not at this point. He needed to gain his trust first.
Returning home that evening, he'd told Peter what happened over dinner.
"Are you sure it wasn't just a fit? Maybe you're just projecting."
The tone in which Peter said it hinted that maybe Marcus missed his job so much he was starting to imagine stuff. Luckily Peter didn't voice it out loud and one look from Marcus made him raise his hands in a sign of surrender.
"No offense, love. Not like I wasn't seeing enemies behind every corner when I came home from my last tour."
Marcus's face relaxed a bit.
"I know what you mean, Peter. But this... this is different. Something about this kid just feels... off. I think he really needs help." Marcus looked right into Peter's eyes, hoping he would understand. "Or whatever it is that has its hands on him will win."
Peter sighed and squeezed Marcus's hand.
"You know I'll support you in whatever you want to do. I just... don't want to see you get hurt."
Hearing that sent a warm rush of love through Marcus's body and he leaned in to kiss Peter on the mouth.
"I love you too," he whispered and knew he would do anything to make sure that feeling never disappeared.
The following day, Marcus searched the schoolyard during lunch break for the familiar face, but he couldn't find it. At one point he thought he saw Tomas in the hall, but the boy must've seen him first and quickly turned, vanishing around the corner. Marcus sighed and decided to give it time. After all, Tomas could only hide for so long... his Latin class would be the next day.
Still, he spent that whole night tossing and turning in bed, so much that Peter threatened to kick him to the couch if he didn't calm down. Marcus forced himself to relax, even though it still took him some time to fall asleep. He had to figure out what was going on with the kid... it was as if someone was sitting on his shoulder, quietly whispering into his ear, pushing him towards Tomas. Marcus wondered if maybe God had found His way back to him, but if He had, He was still keeping His distance. If it was God trying to tell him something, Marcus wasn't equipped to understand it.
As the next Latin class approached, Marcus found himself looking at his watch almost nervously. Time seemed to be crawl by, but finally Marcus stepped into his last class of the day.
The usual chatter calmed down a bit, Marcus already having gained the respect of the students, or at least enough respect that they were trying not to mess with him. His eyes found the figure sitting almost at the back of room. Tomas was simultaneously hunched over and strung tight as a string. Even from across the room Marcus could see the dark circles under his eyes, the pale skin. He was of half a mind to ask the kid outright if he didn't need to see the nurse. As if reading his mind, though, Tomas looked up and defiantly squared his shoulders. He pulled out his textbook and raised his chin a bit, as if daring Marcus to say something. Marcus sighed and instead started his lesson.
During the next hour he observed Tomas slowly relax and even start communicating. Marcus made sure he engaged his students in the lesson and as class was ending he even caught Tomas smile at one of his jokes.
When the bell rang and the students were bolting from the class, Marcus stopped by Tomas's desk. He was packing up his things slowly, as if waiting for everyone else to leave. Marcus wasn't sure if Tomas wanted to talk to him or if he was simply trying to avoid the school bullies.
"Can you stay here for a moment, Tomas? I need to talk to you."
Tomas looked up, startled and Marcus hated to see that the tension was back in his body. Still, the boy gave a silent nod and finished packing his things. Marcus waited for the last student to leave the class. He would have preferred to close the door, but he didn't want to make Tomas feel trapped. Instead he grabbed a nearby chair, turned it around and straddled it. He would've plopped down on top of the desk as was his custom, but he didn't want to tower over Tomas. Still the boy seemed to fidget nervously on his seat. Marcus gave him a moment, knowing Tomas would be the first to break the silence. He was right.
"Look, if this is about what happened before," Tomas blurted. "I'm sorry. It wasn't... it was nothing."
Marcus wasn't sure what Tomas was expecting to hear but he must have been thinking either rant or ridicule.
"Are you alright?" Marcus asked instead and Tomas blinked, taken aback by the question. But his surprise lasted only a second and the boy bristled.
"I'm fine," Tomas snapped back, squaring his shoulders as if getting ready for a fight. He seemed to be trying not to appear weak and while Marcus admired the effort, he wasn't fooled by it.
"Well, pardon me if I don't believe that. You look like you haven't slept for a week."
Tomas looked like he wanted to protest but Marcus just waved it away.
"I'm not interested in lies. I'm also not your mother. But I want to know that it wasn't a mistake letting you go without calling your sister."
At the mention of his sister, Tomas deflated, an almost guilty look appearing on his face. Marcus saved that for later. "Don't tell her, please," he begged. "She would just worry. Nothing she can do about it anyway."
"Sometimes it's not about being able to help. Sometimes people just want to support you," Marcus said. Seeing the dubious look on Tomas's face, he let out a sigh.
"Was that all you wanted to talk to me about, sir?" Tomas asked rather hesitantly.
"No, actually, that wasn't it at all. I wanted to talk about your studies."
At this Tomas frowned and it was obvious he was trying to remember whether he had made some mistake on the latest test. Marcus would have let him flounder for a bit but he didn't have the heart. He gave a slight shake of head and smiled.
"You didn't do anything wrong, Tomas," he said before Tomas could ask. "I'm not sure if your previous teacher ever approached you about Certamen?"
"Oh." It was as if someone switched on the light. Tomas relaxed in his seat, obviously knowing where this conversation was going and relieved it wasn't concerning his health issues. "Yes, Mr. Andrews mentioned it maybe a week before his accident."
"Okay, I don't have to explain then. Your principal, Mr. Stanley, asked me to offer you personal tutoring during the next two months, to help you catch up so you can join in next year's competition."
Even as Marcus was speaking, Tomas was shaking his head.
"I'm sorry, sir, but... as I told Mr. Andrews... I don't want to compete."
Marcus paused. The way Roger was trying to pressure him into the tutoring, he would have thought they had at least sold Tomas on the idea. It seemed like he have to do that as well.
"Can I ask why not?" Marcus wasn't entirely set on pushing Tomas into the competition, but the tutoring did offer him a chance to spend more time with the boy and try to figure out what was going on. He couldn't let that chance slip through his fingers.
Tomas shrugged, looking partly embarrassed, partly annoyed.
"You saw what happened in the yard. Do you really think I want that to happen in front of other people, in the middle of a competition?"
Marcus's heart clenched.
"Come on, you can't let this define you. What are the chances of you having a fit right then and there?"
"Based on the last few months, pretty high," Tomas bit back, then let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't feel fit for that. Not to mention we can't afford the tutoring and there are surely some entrance fees..." Tomas trailed off, shaking his head."I can't even get a damn job flipping burgers! I tried that last month and ended up almost burning down the joint!"
Marcus could see that Tomas was starting to spiral. He automatically reached out, putting his hand on the curve of the boy's shoulder and, again, it was as if someone had flipped a switch. Tomas's eyes went a bit wide but his breathing calmed down.
"Relax," Marcus soothed „No one is asking you to pay for anything. I'm sure the school would be more than happy to help out with the fees, seeing as you would be representing them. I won't comment on the burger joint, because I'm a menace in the kitchen and managed to burn water." Marcus grinned and was heartened to see a start of a smile appearing on Tomas's own face. "I know the thought of something happening in the middle of the competition is scary. But you can't live your life in fear and let good opportunities slide just for maybes."
Tomas's face scrunched up in thought and Marcus could see he was about to protest.
"Let me finish, please," he urged and Tomas closed his mouth, only raising an eyebrow in question. "I'm pretty sure you don't want to spend your life flipping burgers. Do you want to go to college?"
Hesitantly, Tomas nodded. He said, „I need to get an office job or something. Maybe there no one would care if I... if I space out for a minute."
"Okay. But you don't really have money for a fancy college. You have good grades, I bet you're planning to get in on some scholarship, am I right?"
"I... I wasn't thinking about it that much," Tomas said, though by the look on his face the thought had already crossed his mind a few times.
"You know the Certamen is a prestigious competition. Even just taking part in it would look good on your resume. You have a good head on you, Tomas. I know that because I see the work you're handing in each week. Don't let it go to waste because you're afraid."
Marcus could see his speech had at least some effect on Tomas. The boy's cheeks turned a much healthier color and, despite the dark smudges under his eyes, he looked hopeful and more alert than at the start of the class. Marcus could almost see the thoughts running through Tomas's head, so he knew the exact moment when Tomas hit a snag.
"Even if I wanted to, sir, I couldn't. I don't have money to pay for a tutor and I am not ready for the competition. And I'm not sure if Mr. Stanley would let me join the study group next year," Tomas said and Marcus could hear the unspoken „I'm not sure I even want to join a study group".
Marcus gave Tomas's shoulder a pat."Don't worry about that, Tomas. Mr. Stanley will be more than happy to cover my salary. Seeing as I am already tutoring the study group, I can help you get caught up quite easily."
"You... you would do that?" There was clear disbelief in Tomas's voice and Marcus felt a pang of sadness upon realizing the kid was indeed surprised someone would be willing to spend time on him.
"I wouldn't be offering otherwise," Marcus said gently and watched as Tomas took it in. His face was a mix of emotions and Marcus wanted to laugh and tell him not to ever try poker, but instead he just smiled and pulled out a folded sheet of paper.
"Here's a list of some books you might want to check out from the library."
Tomas took the paper, giving it a quick once over, eyebrows rising in question at seeing a phone number attached. Marcus rolled his eyes.
"My number, in case you have any questions. Or if your sister does. You will have to tell her when we start the lessons. If she has any problems or questions about it, tell her to call me, alright?"
"Yeah, thanks." Tomas carefully folded the paper and put it inside his bag. "Are you sure it won't be a bother? Tutoring me, I mean?"
"What, to have a chance to spend some quality time poring over grammar and getting paid for it? Never." Marcus smiled and stood up, barely stopping himself from automatically ruffling the kid's hair.
"Okay, it is Friday afternoon, school is over. I still need to grade a few papers and you better head for the library and check out some books, or you know... enjoy the weekend. See you Tuesday."
Tomas stood up and Marcus was happy to note that when he headed for the door there was a spring in his step.
"Tomas?" he called after him and Tomas turned.
"Yes, sir?"
"Do try to get some sleep, yeah?"
An emotion Marcus couldn't decipher flickered through the boy's eyes, but it vanished too quickly and Tomas ducked his head.
"Yes, sir, I'll try," he said in a soft voice. "Have a nice weekend."
"Yeah, kid, you too," Marcus sighed as the door closed. He had a feeling he'd just gotten himself mixed up in something he wasn't sure he could handle, but there didn't seem to be a way back.
The weekend turned out to be at least half decent after all. Olivia managed to get both days off of work, and even though she spent most of the time catching up on her studies, Tomas convinced her to go for a walk in the nearby park. He wasn't sure whether or not to discuss the extra tutoring with her, not until he had a chance to try it out. In truth he was still having his doubts about the whole competition. With the recurring fits and worsening nightmares, he had to work hard to keep up his studies. He was getting more and more tired, feeling on the verge of burn-out, as silly as that sounded for a fifteen-year-old who didn't have friends and could dedicate all his free time to study. The problem was that the lack of sleep was messing with his concentration, which in turn made it much harder to keep up the protective walls. Whereas before Tomas could mostly ignore the colorful shimmers around people as they passed by, now he could hardly walk to school without getting a headache from all the visual input. Wearing sunglasses helped, but Chicago wasn't sunny enough to justify wearing them every day and Olivia wasn't stupid either. She would figure out that Tomas wasn't doing all that well.
So he put on his big boy pants and tried to focus all his attention on his older sister. She looked tired and older than her 20 years and Tomas felt a pang of regret upon realizing some of that weariness was caused by himself. Olivia had worked day shifts all this last week, which meant she was home at night and had the misfortune to be awakened by Tomas's nightmares. They had separate rooms—thank heaven for small mercies, Tomas didn't think he could have shared a room with his sister the same way he'd shared the apartment with his Abuela. There would have been no hiding his lack of sleep or his wild pacing after a nightmare. As it was, the thin walls sometimes did little to stifle the sounds of Tomas gasping for breath or moaning. No, Tomas preferred the nights when she was at work and he was alone. No need to pretend everything was okay, no need to try and tiptoe around Olivia's room on his way to the bathroom when he felt like throwing up from the gory images his mind was showing him.
"You know, you should be out with some friends, instead of taking your older sister for a walk," Olivia commented as they were leaning against the banister of an old wooden bridge, looking down at the ducks in the pond. Despite her words and her tired appearance, she looked happy. Tomas smiled.
"I see my friends every day at school," Tomas said easily, not even pausing as he lied. "I barely see you."
"I know. I'm sorry, Tomas," Olivia sighed. "It shouldn't take long now. At least the school will be on break during summer. If I get a few more shifts during the summer I might be able to get some money saved for the next year and then we can breathe more easily."
Tomas grimaced and shook his head.
"You shouldn't be working so much. Maybe... maybe I can get some job during the summer too. I mean... there must be something I can do. Even if just walking dogs or work in someone's garden."
Olivia looked like she wanted to protest the idea, so Tomas jumped in.
"Come on, it's not like I want to spend the whole summer locked up in the apartment. I need to catch some sun too. Abuela always put me to work back in Mexico, helping out her friends in the garden or at the church. I won't break."
Olivia sighed and finally nodded.
"Okay. If you find something nice, let me know. Maybe I will even skip my boring old job and join you."
Tomas laughed and threw his arms around his sister, enveloping her in a hug.
"Thank you, manita," he said teasingly and Olivia ruffled his hair.
"Don't be cheeky, Tomasito. Or I might get you a job delivering newspapers. I doubt you want to wake up before dawn during summer."
Tomas rolled his eyes. He actually wouldn't mind delivering newspapers, seeing as he was mostly up long before dawn. Sometimes when Olivia wasn't home he even went for an early run, enjoying the empty streets. Of course if she had known about it she would have freaked. This was still Chicago, after all, and she didn't like him being out at odd hours. That was why he knew she wasn't being serious about the newspaper delivery. Still, he felt at least a bit of relief at the thought that he could get a job during the summer and help her out. Who knew, if the tutoring with Marcus went well and Tomas indeed managed to join in the Certamen competition, he could actually make his sister proud. Right now, looking at her happy face and the eyes that reminded Tomas so much of his Abuela, he felt that making Olivia proud was the most important job in his life.
Monday came fast, which wasn't that surprising, but the fact that Tomas was actually excited about it was. He found himself to be actively looking forward to the tutoring by Mr. Keane on Tuesday, despite how conflicted the thought made him, as he walked down the hall that morning towards his first class. He was nervous because there was a good chance that once they started the tutoring, Mr. Keane would see through the farce and realize that Tomas wasn't so bright. Tomas knew he would mess up sooner or later... he always did. And once that happened, the teacher would probably send him away, wash his hands of him. That's what people did, after all. Every time Tomas messed up, people left... or died.
But maybe, just maybe, this time it could be different. Tomas really hoped so, was clinging to that thought with the last of his strength. He needed a win and if anyone could bring it to him, it was Marcus Keane. That was what Tomas had thought since the first moment he'd laid his eyes on the man, since he'd felt the warm energy Marcus was exuding with same ease as others breathed. So there was also another emotion contesting with the despair of the last few months... hope.
It was with those conflicting emotions that he waited at the end of Monday for an hour, just so he could catch the teacher after the senior Latin class. Tomas loitered in the hall waiting for the bell, and as soon as the students started exiting the room, he managed to squeeze past them.
The teacher was cleaning off the chalkboard, whistling some old tune. Tomas waited until the last student had gone, then softly cleared his throat to let the teacher know about his presence.
"Mr. Keane? Can I bother you for a moment, please?"
The man turned and smiled, dusting the chalk off his hands.
"Hey, Tomas. Didn't expect to see you there today. How was your weekend?"
Tomas blinked, a bit taken aback by the interest.
"It was okay, thank you. How... how was yours?" He asked a bit sheepishly.
"Busy helping out at the shelter on Saturday, but Sunday was just perfect for a walk. Spring is finally here it seems. But I'm sure you didn't wait for an hour just to talk about my weekend. What can I help you with?"
"How do you know I waited?" Tomas was stumped. He'd spent most of the hour in the bathroom, catching up on his reading and avoiding the hall monitor.
Marcus rolled his eyes.
"I saw you at the door just before the bell," Marcus replied with a chuckle and sat down on the edge of his desk, grabbing an apple that was sitting on it."So? What can I help you with?"
Tomas fidgeted and told himself it was silly to be nervous.
"I went to the library Friday, to get those books you recommended to me. I managed to get the grammar one, but they didn't have the other two... and I don't know where to find them." Tomas looked down at the floor, his fingers worrying at the edges of his backpack.
Marcus frowned in thought, then shook his head and looked apologetic.
"Of course, my bad. I got those two books in a small bookshop back in Europe... I didn't really think about whether they would be available here." Marcus stood up and clapped his hands together, the sound causing Tomas's head to snap up. "Okay, I have a question."
"Sir?"
"What are your plans for today?"
Tomas blinked, unsure where this was going. He shrugged.
"I thought about going to the library, then home for dinner. I don't have any other plans."
"Great! What do you say about coming to my house? I can lend you those books and we can have our first study session... or at least make some plans for the week. We haven't really talked about the details yet."
Tomas let his mouth hang open, taken aback by the offer. He really wasn't used to being invited to someone's home, and especially not by his teacher. For a second he could hear the voice of his sister warning him about going anywhere with strangers, but he shook it off. Mr. Keane wasn't a stranger and Tomas knew he wasn't a threat either. He might not be good at many things, but thanks to his weird gift Tomas had a pretty good sense of people. He could spot a predator a mile away and he'd learned at young age to steer clear of them. There was not an ounce of wrongness in Mr. Keane, not that Tomas could sense.
"Wouldn't it be a bother to you? I mean... I thought our study lessons would be at school."
Mr. Keane shook his head.
"No bother at all. I'd actually prefer the comfort of my house and a pot of strong coffee, but if it makes you uncomfortable, no problem. I can bring the books tomorrow and we can setup the study session in one of the empty classes."
Tomas shook his head. He really didn't want the teacher to think he was afraid of him or make him spend any more time at school than was necessary.
"Well, if you don't mind me being at your house..."
"Wonderful! Okay, let me grab my things and we can go. Do you want to call your sister and tell her where you're going?"
Tomas quickly shook his head. He might've been sure that Mr. Keane was safe, but Olivia might have reservations. Not to mention he still hadn't told her about the whole tutoring and competition thing.
"No, it's okay. Olivia won't get home before nine tonight. And I don't want to bother her now when she's at work."
Mr. Keane gave him a curious glance but didn't comment. Well, not until they reached his car and Tomas was buckled in the passenger seat.
"I really hope it's not this easy to persuade you to get in a car with some strange guy without telling your sister where you're headed," Mr. Keane observed and Tomas gave him a startled look, but then laughed.
"No, sir. That's... never happened before." Tomas leaned back in the seat, a bit touched and amused by the concern in the other man's eyes.
"Can I ask how I earned this privilege then?"
Tomas shrugged. Being in close quarters with Mr. Keane and away from the school buzzing with other people put him in a relaxed mood.
"I know you mean no harm, that's all."
"Oh. How so?"
Tomas looked at the older man and hesitantly said: "I just do."
"Well, I sure hope your radar works on everyone else too, kid, 'cause this is a dangerous world."
"I know that," Tomas said, then when he saw the concerned look Mr. Keane was shooting him, he quickly added: "I mean... Mexico City wasn't the safest place on earth either. But I can look after myself."
Mr. Keane gave him a considering look and slowly nodded. Tomas fidgeted on the seat a bit, the silence in the car suddenly stifling. He could feel Keane's curiosity rising though and Tomas wasn't sure he was prepared for the man's questions.
"So... where did you learn Latin?" Tomas blurted out, internally cringing at how stupid that sounded, but Mr. Keane didn't seem to mind. However, he did take his time answering.
"I used to be a priest," he said after a moment, and Tomas could see the slight change of color in the air. He frowned. That subtle change usually meant a painful subject was being broached and Tomas wasn't sure he wanted to continue with this topic if it stirred up that feeling more. But he was still a fifteen-year-old boy and curiosity won.
"An actual priest?" he wondered, eyes a bit too wide. Mr. Keane chuckled.
"Well, I certainly wasn't playing one in the movies." He winked and Tomas closed his mouth.
"Sorry, I didn't..."
"I'm kidding. Yes, I was a priest. But I'm not one anymore, so no need to get all flustered."
"I just... I can't imagine you as one," Tomas said with a shake of his head, apologetic but curious at the same time.
Mr. Keane shrugged.
"It gave me a way to help people. Give back something to the Church for taking me in as a child." Mr. Keane said this with a strange look and Tomas could see the colors swirling, a small tendril slithering around Marcus's chest. It wasn't dark, it wasn't dangerous, but it signified pain and Tomas felt regret at having pursued the subject. At the same time though... it was something he could relate to.
"You lost your parents as a child?" he asked softly, ready to change the topic at any second. Mr. Keane took his time answering and Tomas was about to apologize and ask him to forget he'd ever said anything, when the older man finally spoke.
"I was seven years old when my parents died in front of me," he said quietly and Tomas swallowed. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear more, but Mr. Keane continued.
"I spent five years between foster homes and the home for boys. Until one day a priest came and picked several of us. The Church bought us, gave us a home and an education. What else could an orphan boy ask for, yeah?"
Tomas bit his bottom lip, his hand curling into a fist. He knew that wasn't the whole story, could feel the pain emanating from Mr. Keane's whole being, even though it was dulled now by long years. Still, it hurt Tomas almost physically and he grimaced. His teacher must've taken note, because he looked apologetic.
"Sorry, I didn't want to overshare like that—"
Tomas shook his head.
"No, it's okay. I get it now."And he really did. He understood why Mr. Keane had become a priest, or at least he thought so.
"You became a priest to give back... because there was someone who cared. Someone who took you in when they didn't have to. I understand that."
Mr. Keane gave him a long look then reached out to squeeze his shoulder.
"You're a smart kid, Tomas. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise."
Tomas wanted to protest the sentiment, but for once he didn't. It felt good to be told he was smart instead of being called a freak. It felt even nicer because he knew that Mr. Keane meant those words, that it wasn't just pretense.
"I lost my parents when I was six," Tomas confessed, unsure where those words came from or why he felt the sudden urge to share them.
Marcus frowned.
"I thought that your mother died only recently..."
Tomas shrugged.
"She did. But... she and my father sent me away when I was six. I never saw my father again... I don't know if he's even alive now. Olivia tried to find him when Mom died but... she had no luck. And Mom..." Tomas shook his head. His mother might as well have been dead. He'd barely seen her over the last nine years and while she loved Olivia, every time she looked at Tomas she got a strange look in her eyes and Tomas knew it was fear. He didn't know what he'd done to deserve it, but he did know his own mother had sent him away. He knew how it felt to be handed over. What it was like when someone was willing to take him in. But he didn't voice these thoughts. Instead, he cleared his throat and tried to think about something else. Anything else.
Marcus seemed to understand that.
"If you ever want to talk about it... my door is open."
Tomas looked up and nodded his thanks, though he still felt the weight of all his losses pressing on his chest, the sleeping snake stirring awake momentarily.
"As a priest or as a teacher?"
"As a friend."
Tomas didn't know what to say to that. He felt suddenly parched, his throat in a knot.
"Uh... th-thanks."
Mr. Keane raised an eyebrow and smiled.
"We're here."
The car pulled up in front of a small house and Tomas was glad for the chance to get out and breathe in some fresh air, to get a second to compose himself.
"Nice house," Tomas said once they were inside. He took off his shoes right at the door without being asked to, ignoring the amused smirk on Marcus's face.
"Thanks. It's not ours though, just rented. Peter is planning to build a house next year, as soon as we purchase the land."
Tomas blinked, his eyes taking in the few photos on the shelf in the living room. Most of them were of a man in his mid thirties, with hair that was turning salt and pepper. He was either fishing or in an army uniform with several other soldiers. Tomas caught only one picture with Mr. Keane, but he was looking very happy in it, in a half embrace with the other man.
"So, Peter..." Tomas started, surprised it had taken him so long to put two and two together.
"He's my partner, yes," Mr. Keane said, his head slightly inclined. "I hope that doesn't bother you," he added softly and Tomas could feel the slight nervous shift in the energy. He quickly shook his head.
"No, of course not. I was just... surprised."
Mr. Keane's posture seemed to relax and he smiled.
"Let me take a guess, you expected me to have a wife, one point five kids and a dog?"
"I pegged you more for a cat person," Tomas deadpanned and after a second Mr. Keane burst out laughing.
"Oh, there would be cats and dogs, but Peter put a ban on them after I brought in one too many strays." Still amused, Marcus nodded toward the couch."Why don't you make yourself comfortable? I'll go grab those books. Do you want some tea or pop?"
"Water is fine if it's no bother, thank you," Tomas said and put down his backpack as Marcus vanished upstairs. He started walking around the room, looking at random things, pausing in front of one of the photographs with Peter. It was the one with the other soldiers. The photo was taken somewhere in the desert and all the men looked tired and worn, their eyes speaking of the horrors they'd seen. Yet still there was a smile on their faces. Tomas wondered what Peter was like. He hoped he was a good man. He had to be, because when Mr. Keane mentioned him, he shone even brighter than usual. Tomas doubted someone as pure as Mr. Keane could love someone who didn't deserve it. Which just made Tomas a little bit nervous at he wondered what Peter would think about him. For some reason, Tomas really didn't want to mess up.
By the time Mr. Keane had returned to the living room with several books under his arm and a bottle of cold water in his other hand, Tomas was sitting on the couch, fidgeting nervously. Tomas was very grateful for the water, because it soothed his parched mouth and also gave him something else to fiddle with.
His teacher must've noticed that he was tense, because he sat down next to him, putting the books on the table, a serious look on his face.
"What's wrong?"
"Are you sure Peter won't mind me being here?" Tomas muttered and Mr. Keane raised an eyebrow.
"Why would he mind?"
Tomas shrugged. He might mind that you're spending your time with a freak like me, he wanted to say, but was smart enough not to voice it.
"We weren't supposed to be having a lesson today. I might be taking up your time."
Mr. Keane just waved that off and handed Tomas one of the books.
"This is Miles Gloriosus by Plautus. It's a comedy play and I think you might enjoy it. If you like it, I have several more plays of his, but this is my favorite. Judging by the papers you handed in, you should be able to read it without too much trouble."
Tomas took the book and opened the first page. He was a little surprised to see it was illustrated, though not by the publisher.
"Did you... draw in the book?" he asked with a carefully neutral tone and a raised eyebrow. Mr. Keane gave him a sheepish grin.
"It might be one of my vices. I like to doodle in books," his teacher admitted and Tomas looked down at the pages filled with Latin text and pencil drawings. His lips twitched in a smile and he felt suddenly very privileged and emotional. His teacher was lending him a book he put a piece of himself into and each page was like a look into his heart. Tomas felt warmth coursing through his body just from touching the pages.
"It's nice," he said finally, trying not to show how much this simple gesture meant to him. "Thank you. I'll be sure to return them in the same condition."
"I'm sure you will," Mr. Keane said with a smile.
"Do you draw in every book? Or just the ones you like?" Tomas asked when he saw the second book he was handed also had some drawings, although there were fewer of them.
"The books I read over and over wear my mark, I'm afraid. I think the Bible got it the worst."
"Isn't that... a sin?" Tomas asked, a little taken aback that a priest, even an ex-priest, would feel free to draw in the Holy Book.
"The Bible is mostly filled with the words of men, Tomas," Mr. Keane said calmly. "I wouldn't deface the actual words of God, don't worry."
Tomas blinked.
"How... how can you tell the difference?"
Mr. Keane gave him a long, studious look and Tomas felt as if those eyes were burning through him, looking right into his heart.
"I just do," the ex-priest finally said and Tomas gaped in surprise at hearing his own words being thrown back at him. He quickly snapped his mouth shut and swallowed, looking away.
"That's... cool, Mr. Keane"
"I think you know me well enough to call me Marcus."
"Um… Marcus."
Marcus snickered then took pity on Tomas and returned to the material at hand. Soon they were lost in the topic of Latin, discussing Tomas's strong and weak points and where they should be focusing for the next week or two. Marcus gave Tomas a copy of the materials the main study group was already working on, to at least get some idea of what he should be catching up to.
Sometime later in the evening,, Marcus was just in the middle of reading to Tomas from De Rerum Natura in order to introduce him the concept of metre, and Tomas was so focused on listening to Marcus's smooth voice, the way the Latin words seemed to almost come to life as the air around Marcus shivered as his voice rose and fell, that he didn't notice the jingling of keys in the lock. He heard footsteps and his head snapped up just as a man stepped into the room.
It was Peter, the same man as in the photos, only now he was in civilian clothes and the salt and pepper in his hair was a bit more pronounced. His eyes held a bit of a surprise as they landed on Tomas.
"Oh, good, we have a guest. I was worried you were talking to yourself," Peter said with a smile, as Marcus paused in his reading, rolling his eyes.
"I usually prefer singing to reading Latin when I'm by myself," Marcus said and put down the book. "Peter, this is my student, Tomas. Tomas, this is my partner, Peter."
The introduction was innocent enough, but Tomas froze. He had been watching Peter since he stepped inside the room, taking in the colors surrounding the man. His colors were light and warm just like Marcus's although he didn't shine as bright. No one shone like Marcus, Tomas knew, even if he hadn't yet figured out why. At first, Peter was warm and safe, even though there was a momentary spike of wariness as he spotted Tomas. However, the moment Marcus uttered Tomas's name, the colors changed to cold blue and Tomas almost flinched. He knew what that color meant. It wasn't just wariness; it was fear... it was protectiveness towards a loved one who wasn't him. Tomas knew the color well; he'd seen it around his mother when he returned from Mexico. He'd seen it on the faces of strangers when he woke up from one of his fits.
Peter must've heard his name before to have this reaction and Tomas felt his face flush with shame, his stomach tremble with sadness. He was of half a mind to just bolt out the door, to tell Marcus this was all a mistake. That he didn't need to study, that he wasn't worth his time anyway. But he could feel Marcus next to him, a hand casually touching his shoulder as if letting the other man know that Tomas was alright, that he was safe to be around. And somehow that small gesture managed to warm the cold blue, to turn them into a wary yet more welcoming yellow as Peter reached out to shake his hand. Tomas accepted the hand, hoping his palm wasn't slick with sweat and his grip wasn't limp like a dead fish. Peter looked into his eyes, searching, and Tomas couldn't have looked away even if he wanted to.
It was as if he'd passed some test, as a silent look passed between Peter and Marcus and the tension in the room seemed to dissipate as quickly as it had come. Tomas blinked, unsure of what exactly happened, trying to calm down.
"Nice to finally meet you, Tomas," Peter said with an easy smile, though there was still something in his eyes that bothered Tomas. "Marcus here couldn't stop talking about how excited he was to get someone who puts a bit of thought into their papers."
"They are definitely a more compelling read than what most of the juniors hand in," Marcus said and stood up from the couch.
"How was your day, darling?" he asked with a smirk and Peter gave him a tired sigh.
"Too mundane to bore your student with. How's your study session going?"
"Actually, looks like we passed from study time to dinner time and I didn't even notice," Marcus said, glancing at the clock that read 6:35 p.m. Tomas blinked, surprised by how quickly the time had gone, then he realized that Olivia would be home soon and that he was supposed to cook dinner. Cursing in Spanish under his breath, Tomas jumped up from the couch.
"Everything alright?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, catching some of the words.
"Yes, I'm sorry. I need to go. My sister will be home soon and I haven't made dinner yet." Tomas started grabbing his things frantically, cursing himself for forgetting and even more for the fact he didn't have a clue how to get home. Marcus's house was in a different part of the city and while Tomas could probably make it home within an hour on foot, it was getting dark rather quickly. Maybe if he could find the closest bus stop...
"Okay, relax. I'm sure I can get you home before your sister arrives. If you want, we can stop at a pizza place so you don't have to cook anything."
Tomas paused in mid-motion, eyes wide in surprise.
"You would give me a ride home?" he finally asked, his voice filled with hope. The idea that he wouldn't have to find his way home on foot or battle people on public transport made him sigh with relief. He didn't like being around so many people and as the darkness fell it was harder to discern the dark shadows. Plus, he'd rather not have a fit in the middle of some unknown street at this hour.
"I drove you here. You really thought I would kick you out in the dark in a part of town you don't even know?" Marcus looked almost offended and Tomas wanted to apologize profusely, when Peter chuckled.
"What's so funny, dear?" Marcus raised an eyebrow, arms crossed over his chest.
"You, with your feathers all ruffled," Peter said with a smile.
"I don't want to cause any trouble," Tomas quickly put in, hoping he wasn't starting a disagreement between the two, even though the only one feeling tense seemed to be him. "I mean, I can catch a bus or something," he added weakly and put the last book into his backpack.
Marcus rolled his eyes.
"Don't be silly. I'm not sending you out into the city alone. In any case, I need to get some takeout as well... not like I remembered to cook."
Peter actually seemed happy about the prospect of take-out and Tomas wondered whether Marcus could cook at all.
"Chinese or Thai are good options," Peter noted as Marcus came towards him. Tomas headed towards the door, wanting to give the two some privacy while they were discussing dinner plans.
"Goodnight, Mr... Keane?" Tomas guessed, seeing as all he knew was Peter's first name. Marcus chuckled and Peter slapped him on the arm playfully.
"It's Peter Morrow, but you can call me Peter, or Mr. Keane here will start calling me old."
"I would never dare," Marcus opposed, raising his arms in a gesture of innocence and Peter snorted.
"Only because you don't want to sleep on the couch. Now go, the boy needs to get home and I am hungry."
"There's always the soup I made yesterday."
"I'm not that hungry," Peter said with a smirk. Marcus grabbed theatrically at his heart. Tomas couldn't stop the chuckle and Peter looked at him with surprisingly soft eyes. "It was nice to meet you, Tomas."
Tomas nodded, swallowing the sudden tightness in his throat. Marcus opened the front door and he was a bit surprised when he felt a raindrop on his face, quickly followed by more. They exchanged a look and dashed it through the front yard to the car.
Once inside the car, Tomas leaned back in the seat, feeling a bit awkward at trailing in some water, but happy he didn't have to walk anywhere in this weather. Marcus turned on the heat to get them dry and asked for Tomas's address. They rode in silence at first, but Marcus become bored of it very quickly. Fingers tapping on the wheel in some unknown rhythm, he kept giving Tomas small glances. Finally, as they were passing a pizzeria, Marcus slowed down the car.
"Do you want to stop here and get some pizza for dinner?" he offered and wasn't all that surprised when Tomas quickly shook his head.
"No, thanks. Olivia would be curious where I got it from..." or why it was still warm and he didn't want to say anything about Marcus, not yet. For some reason Tomas thought that the less Olivia knew about Marcus, the better, though he couldn't figure out the reason behind the feeling.
"Is there any reason you don't just tell her?" Marcus seemed to be following the same train of thought as Tomas, which was a bit irritating. Tomas shrugged.
"I don't want her to get her hopes up about the competition... not yet. She might also start to worry that it's too much pressure—" Tomas shook his head. "I'll tell her soon."
Please do. I'd prefer if she knew you'll be spending two or three afternoons studying with me. Actually I'm pretty sure she should give permission for that," Marcus frowned and Tomas bit his lip, thinking how best to steer Marcus off the topic.
"I'll tell her during the weekend, " he muttered a bit sulkily, then added: "It's not like she would notice." Tomas said and earned a curious look from Marcus.
"What do you mean?"
Tomas paused, unsure if he should say anything. He didn't want to get his sister into trouble, but he could see Marcus was getting concerned and he wanted to nip that concern in the bud.
"I usually spend my time after school at the library anyway. And Olivia is either at work or at school. When she comes home she's too tired to play detective."
Marcus grimaced and Tomas was surprised to note that his concern only seemed to deepen.
"It's okay, really," Tomas quickly added. "She's doing all she can."
"All the more reason you stop lying to her, Tomas," Marcus said seriously.
"I'm not lying to her. Today's lesson wasn't even planned."
Tomas could see Marcus wanted to argue, but they were already pulling up in front of Tomas's apartment building. As Marcus parked the car, Tomas gave him a sheepish smile.
"I'm sorry for not inviting you in, but..."
Marcus nodded.
"Thanks for the books... and inviting me to your house."
"You're always welcome there, okay?" Marcus urged, as if giving Tomas a secret message. Tomas blinked then nodded.
"Now go. Don't forget tomorrow's test and clear up your schedule for Wednesday. We might start cracking down on some grammar."
"Will do, Mr. Keane," Tomas said with a smile and opened the car door.
"That's Marcus, remember!" Marcus called after him as Tomas ran up to the entrance of the building. Tomas turned at the door, surprised to see the car still in place. Marcus gave him a little wave and pulled away from the curb just as Tomas slipped inside the building.
Later that night, as Peter and Marcus were lying in bed with Marcus resting his head on Peter's chest, one arm thrown over his midriff, Peter finally found the courage to begin the conversation..
"Are you sure it was a good idea to bring Tomas into our house?" he asked softly and as expected, he felt Marcus tense in his arms. Peter counted himself lucky when he didn't pull away.
"What do you mean?"
"If... if he's possessed—"
"He's not," Marcus said quickly, and this time he looked up at his partner's face.
"Are you sure? You seemed to think there was something wrong with him just a few days back. What changed?"
I spent time with him, Marcus wanted to say, but that wasn't enough of an explanation and he knew he owed Peter a bit more, especially if he planned on bringing Tomas home more often. With a sigh, Marcus gently patted Peter on the stomach and pulled up into a sitting position, turning on the bedside lamp. They needed to talk this through and he wanted to look Peter in the eyes while they did it.
"You know how before I could feel God... how He spoke to me, made me his vessel so I could help others?"
Peter nodded and Marcus felt the connection between them deepen. He was eternally grateful for the fact Peter was willing to listen to him even if he was treading on the thin ice of religion.
"But you can't... feel him now, can you?" Peter asked, breaking the silence.
"No." Marcus shook his head and there was the sadness he had grown accustomed to feeling, but there was also something new. Just a bit of hope. "No, I can't feel Him, not like I used to. But... every time I'm in a room with Tomas, it's like... I can feel He's close. It's like... it's like someone's standing right behind your back, you know? And you expect any second you'll feel a hand touching your shoulder, but when you turn around there's no one."
Peter frowned and Marcus, who was watching his face with frightening intensity, sighed, running a hand over his face.
"I am not explaining myself well, but truth be said, I'm not sure what is it that I feel. Just... you have to trust me on this. Whatever's going on with Tomas, God is pushing me close to him. Leading me like a blind man and I know Tomas needs my help. I'm sure of it, now more than ever."
"Okay," Peter acquiesced. "I'm not saying don't help him. He actually seems like a good kid. But be careful. I don't... don't want to see you hurt."
"I think I can take Tomas in a fight, darling," Marcus joked but Peter shook his head.
"You know what I mean. I'm not sure how this whole demons and God thing works. You know I'm not such a religious guy, even though some of your stories make me want to buy a shit ton of crucifixes and get the whole house blessed."
Marcus smiled as Peter rolled his eyes, even though the corner of his lips twitched as well.
"I'm sure that whatever's going on with Tomas, he's on the side of good. All the more reason to protect him."
Peter nodded and reached out to pull Marcus back into his embrace.
"As long as you're safe, I don't have a problem with it."
"Do you trust me, Peter?" Marcus asked suddenly and Peter froze.
"Of course I do," he said, sounding offended that Marcus could even ask that. Marcus just smiled.
"In that case, trust that I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for plenty of years, even before God decided to lend me a hand."
"Yes, but now He is not exactly here and I'm all the backup you have. I don't want to disappoint you, my love, but I don't have much experience warding off demonic entities."
"You could never disappoint me," Marcus said in return and snuggled closer into his lover's embrace. For a moment, they were both silent, just enjoying each other's company, listening to their breathing, feeling each other's heartbeat.
"Do you ever regret leaving the Church?" Peter asked and Marcus raised his head, looking at him with warm blue eyes.
"Sometimes, I miss it. The thrill of the chase, the satisfaction of saving a soul and sending those unclean spirits back to Hell where they all belong. I regret losing that connection, the fact I can no longer be of use to our Lord." Marcus paused. "I regret many things, Peter..." he leaned in and gave Peter a most tender kiss. "... but you're definitely not one of them."
Tomas prepared a quick dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches just before Olivia arrived home. They talked a bit, Tomas telling her a few sentences about school while Olivia regaled him with the latest gossip from work. Tomas enjoyed it, listening to the tales about Olivia's colleagues as if it was the latest episode of a soap opera. When the food was eaten and dishes were washed though Tomas found himself yawning so he excused himself to bed. It was a bit early for him, but for once he was hoping for a restful night. He was still feeling strangely relaxed by the afternoon he spent at Marcus's place, so he went to bed in good spirits.
It was several hours later though when the demons seemed to have caught up. Tomas was thrashing on a bed, gripped in a horrible nightmare. He saw another boy, not much older than himself, biking home at night. The boy had his headphones on and Tomas knew right away that this was going to be bad. It was as if he was looking at the scene through someone else's eyes, and that someone was following the boy's approach from inside the house.
Tomas twitched, everything around him moving in slow motion. He waited for the door to open, for the boy to walk past the living room and the kitchen, heading into the bathroom. With the headphones still on, there was no way he could hear the muffled screams of his mother trying to warn him, the gurgling of air leaving her lungs as a knife slit her throat. The father in the living room was already dead and Tomas wanted to scream, wanted to do something to warn the boy.
This is a dream, please be a dream, Tomas repeated in his mind over and over, even though dreams were never this real. He didn't remember a dream where he could smell the blood, feel the texture of it on his fingers. The television was playing in the background, the mother was dying on the kitchen table as the dinner bubbled on the stove, slowly burning. Tomas heard footsteps, his own, he realized, as he followed the boy to the bathroom. Finally he took off the headphones and looked into the mirror. His mouth opened in horror but it was already too late. Tomas reached out, the knife slitting through the skin, blood vessels and cartilage with surprising ease. The blood came in a spray, landing on the mirror where Tomas saw the face of the man holding the knife. It wasn't him. It was a stranger, although for a second Tomas could see his own horror reflected in the mirror. At least that was what he thought he saw, until he spotted the extra pupil and a grin that wasn't human. In that moment Tomas screamed until his voice cracked raw.
He woke in his bed, drenched in sweat, shivering and sick to his stomach. His throat felt scratchy. The room was still dark and silent except for his ragged breathing and barely contained sobs. Tomas sat up, curling into a tight ball and rocking with each shuddering breath. His head was throbbing wildly and he bit down on his lip to stop a scream of frustration and despair. It was as if he was losing his mind and he knew he was getting worse. Before, he'd only had nightmares after the fits but lately... lately they came several times a week, giving him little time to get some actual sleep. His defenses were crumbling and Tomas wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. How long until he snapped? How long until he became one of the monsters from his dreams?
Tomas jerked at the thought, unconsciously biting down on his bottom lip harder, drawing blood. The taste of it made his eyes snap open and without thinking of Olivia sleeping in the next room, he blindly rushed to the bathroom, falling on his knees in front of the toilet and heaving up his measly dinner.
Once he was sure that he couldn't possibly bring up anything else, he cleaned his mouth, spitting the blood out—and wouldn't that just be fun to explain in the morning. Tomas looked up at the mirror, scared of what he would see. He was pale, his eyes red-rimmed from crying and framed by dark circles. With the split lip he looked almost as bad as he felt, but despite that there was no third pupil lurking there, no demonic smile. It was just him.
Turning off the light, Tomas softly padded towards his sister's bedroom. He peeked in, mouth open to whisper his sister's name, but she was deeply asleep and Tomas remembered how tired Olivia had been that night. There was no sense in disturbing what little sleep she could get. Wistfully, Tomas closed the door and returned to his room.
The bed sheets were damp from sweat, just like his shirt. Tomas turned on the light, confident that Olivia wouldn't wake and changed into clean clothes, then made quick work of his bed sheets. There was no way he would return to sleep that night. Every time he closed his eyes he could see the moment of realization in the other boy's eyes. He knew he was going to die just like Tomas knew he was going to kill him.
No, that wasn't me. Tomas shook his head with a pained grimace and reached into his backpack, pulling out one of the books Marcus had given him. He might as well use the time to do something useful.
Opening the book, Tomas was once again faced with the illustrations. It was such a contrast to the gruesome images he had just seen in his dream that Tomas froze. Then he reached out, tracing each drawing with his fingers reverently. If he squinted just right, he could see the lines shining slightly, as if there were remnants of Marcus's own soul, his energy, on the page. Tomas swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe if he focused enough on the lines, maybe he could push the ugly images out of his head. Even if only for a moment. Lying down, Tomas started to read the words as if they were some kind of a mantra, his fingers still tracing the lines, soaking up the warmth of the pages. Slowly, very slowly, his breathing calmed and his eyes started to slip shut. When he finally succumbed to sleep, for once it was without nightmares or dreams.
