December 2: Visions of Broken Relationships

Pairing: Thomas/Jimmy

Rating: T for strong language

For the fifth day in a row, Thomas wondered if he should get out of bed.

He felt like a dead animal on the side of the road, splayed out on the wrinkled sheets, deprived of the will to even look at the clock. The sunlight was hitting his bare back, but it didn't make one speck of difference to Thomas: there could be a tornado outside his window and he wouldn't have given a damn. Well, probably.

His stomach growled: he had hardly eaten for the past few days. He hadn't bathed either, and the smell was starting to become noticeable. He just did not have the will to get up and move on. It felt like he would never get past the horrific, embarrassing evening that had robbed him of all confidence and strength.

On the nightstand, his mobile began to vibrate. Thomas was an arm's length away from it, but he did not feel like picking it up would do any good. He knew who it was.

He ignored it. Nonetheless, the phone kept making noise. After five minutes, Thomas grunted in annoyance, slammed his hand on the nightstand, and pressed the 'answer' button.

"Thomas, I've been calling for five fucking minutes. Where the fuck have you been?"

Thomas did not have a reasonable answer to Jimmy's question. He just grunted.

"Are you even out of bed?" Jimmy asked. Thomas grunted again.

An exasperated sigh on the other end. "Fine, then. I'm coming over."

"Jimmy," Thomas groaned. "Please, don't, I really don't need – "

"Yes you do. I'm bringing sandwiches and tea. And detergent. I hope I don't have to pull you out of bed."

Judging from the next sound, Jimmy had cut off the line. Thomas swore into the useless receiver. Why did Jimmy have to act like his fucking nurse? Did he see him as some sort of invalid?

Ten minutes later, the buzzer rang. Thomas knew he didn't have to get up; Jimmy had a spare key.

"Thomas Idiot Barrow, if you aren't out of bed – !"

"I'm getting up, I swear!" Thomas called out in reply. Mustering was willpower remained, he lifted his head off of the mattress in time to Jimmy standing in the bedroom doorway.

"For God's sake, Thomas, have you taken a shower since I last saw you?" Jimmy seemed more exasperbated than his character usually was. "I'd think after a few days of lying in your own smell you'd seriously consider a shower."

Jimmy grabbed ahold of Thomas's arm and pulled him off the sheets. Thomas nearly fell onto the floor. His legs felt as shapeless as a puddle of water.

"Shower, now. Use soap," Jimmy ordered. Thomas stumbled into the bathroom and closed the door before pulling off his boxers.

Five minutes later, he emerged, hair wet and skin red. He did feel slightly better after standing under the scalding water, even though a shower wasn't going to change much. Except the level of body odor. Meanwhile, Jimmy was setting pre-made sandwiches on plates and pouring tea into mugs.

"Thanks for that," Thomas said pointing to the food. He had been living mostly off of soup for the last two days, since that was mostly what remained in the pantry.

"Don't mention it," Jimmy said. "By the way, I'm running all of your clothes through the wash."

"I know," Thomas said. He was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He sat down and started chewing the tough sandwich.

"Thomas, it's not like Philip was your 'one true love' or whatever. You don't need to act like it's some great travesty."

Thomas angrily swallowed the food in his mouth. "Like you've got any idea of what it's like. You haven't even been Ivy's boyfriend for a month, let alone a year."

"And?" Jimmy sat down in the seat next to him. "You don't have to act like it's the end of the world."

"I feel like it's the end of the fucking universe," Thomas said.

He and Philip Crowborough had been a serious couple for about a year, and they had been good friends since – it was hard to pinpoint an exact date, but Thomas must have considered Philip his friend about two summers before. In Thomas's eyes, Philip was his 'significant other.' They went out together every week, they shared each other's beds, sent love letters, all the silly relationship stuff. But Utopia had been swallowed up by the waves of betrayal as Philip expressed to Thomas that they were "not compatible" without so much as an explanation.

"I have no idea why he would just tell me something like that and break it off right then and there. I dunno if it was the sex, sometimes I can't meet up with up because if work. Honestly, I thought we'd be living together in six months." Thomas stopped to sip some of his tea.

"Maybe he did realize you aren't the one for him," suggested Jimmy.

"Rubbish, Jimmy, he's told me he loves me."

"If you only heard him say that during sex, then it's not as real as saying 'I love you' on some romantic bridge at sunset."

"He said it plenty of times outside of sex," insisted Thomas. Although, if he took the time to consider it long enough, he would not have been able to pinpoint a time when Philip said that he loved him when he was not in bed with him.

"Well, maybe he just needs some time off, or something. You've probably just been acting like a drama queen."

"I've tried calling him, but he ignores me. I stopped calling him yesterday."

Feeling miserable all over again, Thomas took another big bite of his sandwich. He had to chew for a long time to avoid swallowing too quickly and choking to death.

"Mate," Jimmy said, tapping his arm, "if he broke up with you for good, then I suppose you can't do anything but move on. Besides, it's Christmas. There's bound to be some lonely guy on the street you can hook up with."

Thomas gave Jimmy the worst possibly glower he could muster. "I didn't 'hook up' with Philip because he was a lonely guy on the street – "

"Yeah, fine, you met him at a party, and chances are there's going to be another guy looking for that perfect guy at some Christmas party," Jimmy said. He got a sort of mischievous glint in his eye, sort of the 'I'm thinking of pranking a girl' type of look. "Like the one next week …" he suggested, faking casualness.

"Your cousin's annual Christmas party?" Thomas asked. He had heard Jimmy briefly mention such a soirée from last year.

"Yeah. And I'll get you an invitation, but only if you stop whining about Philip. You shouldn't bother with him anymore if he just dumps you like that. He's not worth pursuing."

Thomas rubbed his hands through his damp hair, clawing at his brain to stop conjuring images of lying in bed with Philip again. "I'll try not to."

"Good." Jimmy stood up.

"Oi, where are you going?" Thomas demanded.

"I promised Ivy I'd meet up with her," Jimmy said, grabbing his coat. Thomas scoffed: he knew Ivy, Jimmy's girlfriend, and his immediate thoughts had been an intoxicated mouse.

He hadn't known Jimmy for an obscene amount of time – he had met Philip before he'd crossed paths with Jimmy – but they had already become decent friends. Thomas knew that Jimmy had dated several girls in the past, probably all looking like tiny drunk rodents, but at the first glance Thomas had believe Jimmy was, at least, bisexual. Nothing substantial had proven this theory, as he had never seen Jimmy be intimate with other guys. Nevertheless, Thomas had his suspicions.

Thing was, he had never acted on those assumptions because he had been preoccupied with Philip.

Jimmy saw himself out the door, leaving Thomas alone. He watched the door long after the other man left.

Standing up to search for his mobile, he walked back into his bedroom and picked it up. Finding his photo album, he looked at all of the crazy candids of him and Philip. They ranged from nights at the pub to mornings after sex. Thomas didn't smile while he looked at any of them. He felt utterly defeated: if Philip didn't see those memories as happy times, then he shouldn't either.

Methodically, he began to delete all of those photos, one by one. He made a mental note to delete the ones on Facebook and his computer before throwing off his towel and searching for some clothes. Most of which Jimmy had stuffed into the washing machine.