Thursday
"You gonna be okay?" Adam asks him as they walk down the sidewalk together. Tommy nods once, running his fingers through his hair. School had been a bitch on a bitch boat and he managed to get out of gym by telling the teacher what had happened before lunch with the football players. He got to spend all of that class period in the health center, laying down and resting. He's never had a better, quiet moment to himself where he can just sit and sleep and heal. Thankfully, also, the nurse didn't ask to see any bruises or marks. In fact, she just took one look at him and let him into one of the two rooms.
He knows that Adam doesn't really believe him, and he wonders if the ginger's heard all that goes on in their house. He hopes that he does, praying that the pain will all end soon. But at the same time he hopes that he doesn't because he doesn't want Adam to be dragged into the mess. He doesn't want to see the ginger get hurt because him. That would be the last thing he wants in this world. He's already made a promise to keep Adam safe from his life. 'But how long can you keep that promise before it blows up in your face? You can't protect everyone for forever, Thomas. So get used to it.' A subconscious thought warns him gently, and he sighs softly. He'll protect Adam as long as he can.
Tommy shuffles beside Adam, reaching their street. He feels his heart pounding, but not nearly as bad as before. He's got Adam beside him, so he feels safe. Even if it's only for a little while, he has security and warmth beside him. Adam's a soul of strength and light, and Tommy finds himself attracted and attached to that light, feeding off of it for his own well being. It's not a total bad thing, right? Because he doesn't think so.
Tommy thinks for a moment, back to the beginning of the week. The first time he noticeably saw Adam. He turns his head, facing Adam as they walk. "Hey, Adam? Monday afternoon, you kinda stormed out of your house. What happened?" Adam glances over at him, his eyes distant.
"It was nothing— don't worry about it." The ginger says firmly, his jaw set into a clench.
"But you—"
"I don't wanna talk about it, Tommy. As it is, I'm sorry you heard my dad and I arguing on Tuesday. So, please, just disregard everything entirely, because it's not important." Adam's voice is cold and harsh, but Tommy knows he not trying to be mean. And even though Adam's tone of voice suggests that the conversation is over, Tommy was stubborn in his youth. Persistent, and he doesn't give up fighting unless there's no chance of winning.
"You're dad was talking about moving you to San Diego though." Adam sighs, his face weary.
"Tommy, that's only my dad's suggestion. He thinks I'm not doing well enough in school to stay here, but I promise you, everything's fine." Adam turns his head and smiles brightly at Tommy. "I'm not gonna go anywhere, so stop worrying so much about it." He says gently, reaching over and taking Tommy's hand in his, giving it a squeeze before letting go again. Tommy's face flushes and he smiles. It's amazing how close they've gotten to one another in just three days. Tommy still has yet to tell Adam about his life, but he figures he'll tell the ginger one day, when the timing is better.
"If you do go anywhere, you had better take me with you." Tommy says with a light laugh, but inside he means it. If he goes anywhere, he wants to go with Adam. Adam, who's become the only best friend he's ever had in his life.
Adam barks out a hearty laugh, his face bright with a wide smile. "Don't worry, Tommy, I will. I'll take you with me even if I have to give you a piggy back ride." Tommy blinks once and busts out laughing with Adam as they stumble down the street together, leaning on one another as their breathing becomes short and their sides begin to hurt. They clench their stomachs as they gasp and stop in front of Adam's house. Tommy, bright eyed, is given a bear hug from Adam and a light peck on the forehead.
"Take care of yourself." Adam says. Tommy smiles, nodding once. 'I'll do my best, Adam.' He thinks to himself.
"You too." Tommy says, turning on his heel and heading to his house as Adam crosses up into the driveway of his home.
The high of happiness fades as he pulls himself up the stairs of his house, his body quivering with pain. He pushed the aches aside earlier so he could have a good walk home with Adam, but now he's cringing with most every move. But it could be worse. It could be a lot worse, as much as he hates to admit it. Tommy sighs, opening the door and stepping inside. The house is semi-clean, much like when he walked in on Tuesday. But he can't hear any voices or any obscene thumps or slaps or objects breaking. It's quiet, and this bothers him greatly.
Creeping slowly, he pulls off his bag and silently makes his way to his parent's bedroom. If he's careful, he might be able to slip by everything unnoticed and actually get some fucking work done today. He passes through the kitchen and the utility room, seeing the door is slightly ajar. Carefully, he grabs the knob and pulls the door open. There's enough light coming from the west window to see that his mum is asleep in her bed, looking beautiful even with the bruises on her face and arms. His dad must not be home. Probably out with his drinking buddies again. In fact, he's quite sure of that, because Allison wouldn't be sleeping if he would only be out for an hour or two.
Shuffling back towards his own room, Tommy breathes a light sigh of relief that his dad isn't home. He can get work done and maybe, just maybe, get some decent sleep tonight. But perhaps that's a little too much in terms of wishful thinking, and he begins to strip out of his sweaty shirt as he walks into his room, which is right beside the one and only bathroom of the house. He opens his door and steps inside, closing it behind him. His room is small, nothing more than twelve feet by eight feet. It's enough for a futon on the floor, the stereo right next to it, the mound of CD's at the foot of his bed, a large suitcase with clothes and his acoustic bass guitar. He smiles to himself, tossing his grimy shirt in a corner, kicking off his shoes and glancing up at the window facing east.
He has a clear view into the Lambert backyard. At first it used to bother him, seeing into other people's properties. But after a while he just didn't care anymore. No one ever really goes out into the backyard unless it's during the summer, and only once or twice has he seen Adam's mum go out to pull weeds or something. But today no one's back there, and Tommy turns away from the window and kneels down to his suitcase, pulling out another long sleeved t-shirt. He's got a few light bruises on his arms, one or two on each, and he decides to put the shirt back, grabbing a sleeveless black shirt. The worst of everything is his stomach, chest, and hips, and even a little on his thighs. He peels his jeans off, grabbing a pair of loose fitting grey sweats and tugs them on, rolling them up to his knees. There's one bruise on his calf, but that's nothing, really.
He's surprised that his dad doesn't hit his legs. He guesses it's because he wants to keep Tommy on his feet and walking. A broken leg is harder to hide than ribs or bruises. Tommy sighs, feeling much cooler now. He tugs his shoes back on and exits his room, crossing into the bathroom. He turns on the faucet and splashes cold water on his face, staring up at his reflection as he examines the dark circles under his eyes. Exhaustion, stress, and fear. It kills. Very slowly, but it does.
Tommy sighs and shuts the water off, wiping his face on a nearby hand towel. He feels cleaner, cooler, and much better now that he's not boiling under excessive fabric. He turns on his heel and crosses into the kitchen, passing through and heading back to his parent's room. He needs to get out for a few hours but he wants to let Allison know before he goes. He slips silently into the room, creeping across the floor and to her side of the bed. He doesn't want to disturb her since she's sleeping so peacefully. He reaches over, placing his palm on her forehead, and brushing away the strands of her hair. Her eyes slide open fluidly and she looks up at him, her green eyes tired.
"What is it?" She asks him, turning onto her side so she can face him a little better.
"I'm going out on a walk. I won't be gone long, I promise." He says as her eyes widen at the first sentence. She sighs softly, her eyes closing slowly before opening again.
"Okay. Be careful, and be home before it gets too dark, okay? I'll call you if your father gets home before you." Like that would actually ever happen. But he nods anyway and leans down, kissing her forehead gently. Her skin is warm and he strokes her hair gently before turning and exiting the room, walking through to the kitchen. He stops at the freezer, pulling it open and reaching deep inside. He finds the box he's looking for and tugs it out, shutting the freezer. He taps the box repeatedly against his palm, packing the contents inside before removing the plastic wrap of the cigarettes. Snatching a lighter from the kitchen table, he turns right and crosses the living room, stepping out of the house and closing the door behind him. He opens the lid of the cigarette box and plucks one out, popping it between his lips. He tucks the box into the pocket of his sweats and lights the cigarette, sucking heartily on it.
Now he really feels better. He doesn't smoke often, but sometimes, on days like this, he sucks a couple down to soothe himself entirely. He does it often enough to get the kicks but rarely enough that he's not addicted. He doesn't have the yellow teeth, the bad breath, nothing. And to be honest, he likes it this way. It's like he's got all the benefits from it without a single side effect. He doesn't even cough anymore.
He exhales slowly, watching the smoke flutter away from his face as he takes a few slow steps down the stairs. His body is hurting, but the nicotine is taking his mind off of it. It's as if it's disappearing and he forgets it's there all together. He crosses the lawn, heading west down the street. There's a spot less than half a mile away that he likes to go to and just be alone. It's quiet, secured, and sheltered from the rest of the world. He pictures it in his mind and smiles, taking another drag of the cigarette and walking with an even pace down the street.
He passes several houses, makes several turns. The walk isn't long, lasting no more than five minutes, but since he's alone it feels even longer than that. He finishes his cigarette, flicking the butt away into the street as he exhales a last breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants as he walks. The air kisses his neck and his arms, and he smiles to himself as his hair is tossed around his skull. His deep brown eyes shift to the right as he curves off of the main road and down a dirt path. Trees swarm over him, making a canopy of green and yellow. It's quiet and peaceful and he often forgets how much he really loves it here until he returns again.
Taking a sharp left, Tommy ducks underneath several overgrown bushes, weeds, and fallen tree limbs, before pushing past a section of a shrub. He stares at the familiar sight of the gushing river bank, bubbling brilliantly over a field of stones. The trees' protective cover has stopped short here and ceases to be, opening up a marvel of red skies with glittering stars. He sighs softly with a smile, dropping his eyes and seeing a person. Their back is to him, but the golden-red hair is a dead giveaway. The ginger is clad in a loose fitting button up blue shirt and khaki shorts, his feet are dipped into the running waters.
"Adam." Tommy says, stepping into the small clearing. The male turns his head, his blue eyes wide for a moment, before he smiles.
"Hey."