Your heart is in your throat and there's a part of you that regrets showing him. He'd see it eventually at the rate you're going and it's definitely easier to just show him rather than him finding out in the middle of having sex but you don't talk about it. There's so much that goes into that crest and Tom might push for more than you're willing to give him. But, he has burns on his back from Arthur and you need to show him that you get it. You understand at least some of his pain and what he's going through.

Tom's brows are pulled together and his forehead is creased while he holds onto your arm. "What do you mean it's Arthur's family crest?"

You pull your arm out of his grasp, resting your elbow on your hip. "So, without giving you the entire long backstory because that's not right now, basically, you know those wax pressers? Like what your Hogwarts letter would have been sealed with?"

Tom huffs and he can't help but almost laugh and close his eyes for a second at your reference. It's something so serious and you're going to go for a Harry Potter reference. "Mhm." Tom hums, opening his eyes.

"Okay, Arthur has some of those, so long story short, I've got his blinds pulled in his office–"

"You were in his office?" Tom's expression switches back to confusion.

"Do you wanna know how I got his family crest burned into my arm or why I was in his office?"

Tom sighs and he should have guessed he'd only be getting one explanation instead of two but it was worth a shot to ask. However, he will be bugging you about it because it's going to eat at him. His office of all places just seems like a weird place. Tom had kind of assumed you'd only known each other through the boxing but for you to be in his office, that would be mean you know each other on the outside. Just another question Tom has.

"Go on." Tom says and he rests an arm around your hip, pulling you a little closer to him.

"Well, the person who was supposed to save my ass, did not. Arthur barged in and saw me on his laptop so he pinned me down, took a lighter, held it the metal, and burned me because the guy who was supposed to save my ass helped him to save his own ass."

It takes everything in Tom not to start asking a thousand questions running through his head. You were working with someone but they turned on you and what does that even mean? Why even bother trying to get into his laptop and if he caught you, why not just report him? Why is everything so secretive? There's a lot going through his head but there's a look on your face that says you have way too much going through your head. So, Tom opts for an easy question you might not have a problem with answering.

"Why don't you go to the police? It's his crest shouldn't they be able to help you?"

Of course going to the police could be a not-so-terrible idea. But, it's Arthur and the police don't like to mess with people with big names. Arthur has a big name, he brings in a lot of business for the city. Without anything concrete, it'd just be your word against his. You're a no one and he's a someone.

"Arthur likes to own people, he likes people to know that he has them and there's nothing they can do about it. It's why he chose the crest instead of a cigar or just the lighter." You start explaining because it's easier to ramble about this than actually sit and think of a coherent thought. If you start thinking, you'll back out of telling him anything. "I didn't get anything on him. I didn't have time to put anything on a flash drive or a hard drive or anything. I know what I saw but I saw it for maybe five seconds and that's all I had. He branded me to remind me that I don't have anything besides my word and he has a ton of shit that can easily send me to prison. I don't like the idea of prison. If I'm gonna risk it, I want die-hard proof so at least he gets locked up, too."

Tom's heart plummets. You look away from him and whatever you saw wasn't good. It's in the quiver of your voice and the way you dodge his face. Harrison said you had a plan, you're going to get them out of whatever mess they've gotten themselves into. What if that's what you were doing the first time and what if whatever you saw is exactly what you're trying to get them out of? Something isn't right, something is beyond fucked up and Tom hates himself for it. Whatever it is, he's now dragging you and your friends into it and he didn't even know or mean to.

Tom's arm flexes around you, silently giving you encouragement to tell him more. "What'd you see?"

Your eyes meet his and you sigh. If you go into what you saw then you know he'll be freaked out. Harrison looked like he was going to faint when you'd mentioned the rumor of Arthur selling his boxers to other people like Arthur. Tom is likely to actually freak out if you tell him what's on that computer, and just what you could access in the time you had. The last thing you want is for Tom to start freaking out. Your reasoning might be selfish, because you like his arm around you and you like how close you are right now and you don't want to ruin it, but maybe it's not completely selfish. What he doesn't know right now, about that, can't possibly hurt him. If you tell him, he might go off the rails and confront Arthur. That would be bad for everyone.

You move closer to him, your forehead resting on his collarbone. "Just lemme handle it." Your voice is soft and pleading, not demanding like Tom would have expected it to be.

His grasp on you tightens as he looks down to you. "Let me help you."

Your heart pulls and a lump forms in your throat because you could use the help. You need someone to walk up to you and take the weight of the world from your shoulders if just for a second. It's heavy and crushing and you feel like you can't straighten your back anymore because it's all so much, it's hard to walk and you just need a break. But, you can't. If you break, if you let yourself breathe, there will be something there to make sure you don't gather all of your pieces and put yourself back together. There will be something having a hand to your throat, cutting off any hope for regaining your breathing. You have Harrison and that's help enough. Harrison will listen to you and Tom is more likely to get hurt if you slip.

"It's okay." You pick your head up and meet his stare. "I got it, just trust me, okay?"

Tom sighs but he agrees because he doesn't want to fight you. He has to trust you for you to trust him. "Okay."

"I'm...I am sorry for everything." You say. "Lying to you."

Tom presses a kiss to your forehead and it's something no one has done before. "'S alright." Tom looks back to you and there's a smirk tugging at one side of his mouth. That was a heavy conversation and you're clearly done talking about it, so he might as well change the subject. "Y/n?"

"Hm?"

"We smell." Tom chuckles and you immediately burst into laughter.

"We smell like sex and teenager's hockey bag."

Tom's laugh booms against your chest while he shakes his head. "That's oddly specific."

"Trust me, it's true." Your laugh vibrates with Tom's and he loves your laugh. It's slowly becoming his favorite sound. "I know it'll ruin Matty putting the ointment on your burns but I mean, I'm pretty sure your sweat already did that, but we can shower if you want?"

There's resistance in Tom answering. It's not that he doesn't want a shower or need one or even want to take one with you, it's that he knows those burns are going to make him want to rip his skin right off of his back. With fresh burns, Tom has literally bitten his lip so hard from trying not to scream out in agony while showering just to hide it from Harrison. Tears cascade down his face so fast he can't tell what's shower water and what's actually tears. You've already seen him in an extremely vulnerable situation and he doesn't know how he feels about you seeing him in another one, in the same night.

"If you don't want to, it's fine." You shrug and there's no disappointment in your voice. "You can shower and then I can shower. I, um," You look away for a second. "I just know it's gonna hurt and you probably haven't cleaned them real well, the old ones, so I figured if you were okay, I could help." Your voice went from confident to shy with the offer and there's a kind smile across your lips.

"Didn't take you as the caretaker type?"

Tom says and it's not to be rude. His voice a bit joking but he is surprised. Matty seems to the "mom" friend and Mikey is like an overprotective brother. You always came off as the wild child but you're offering to help him shower to make sure his burns get cleaned. You were there to help Harrison save his ass. You took him to the car. You got the first-aid kit.

"Tell me why you're weird about showering and I'll tell you why I think I can be the 'caretaker type'." You hold up one hand to put air quotes around Tom's repeated words.

Tom sighs and his hand comes to your hip but he keeps you close to his chest. "It's...gonna hurt." Tom's cheeks flush blood red.

"I know, though." You say with understanding. "That's kind of, part of why I showed you the crest, so you'd know I'd understand."

Tom's thumb rubs the skin under your shirt, his eyes on his hand. "I dunno." He mutters. "I don't want you to think less of me, I guess."

You're visibly taken aback. You're the one that's always afraid he's going to look at you differently. Why would you see him differently because of burns? Because of being in pain over burns that are by definition painful?

"I won't think less of you for being in pain over something that's literally painful."

Tom brushes his nose against yours and you scrunch your face, a smile coming to your lips once more. "We'll shower after you tell me."

You suck in a breath and shrug a shoulder. "I, um," Your brows furrow as if you're trying to find the perfect words to express your thoughts. "It sounds stupid, but, I just...I always wanted to be somebody to someone."

Tom shakes his head. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I...I just want to feel like I'm somebody to someone, that's it. I want to be someone's someone, someone's person. If you see me riding the L, I'm just someone on a train. A no one, but I wanna be somebody. It doesn't have to be anyone big or anything, just somebody to someone."

Even the seemingly most confident people still want to be somebody.

Tom moves his hand to cup your cheek and his eyes lock with yours. "You're not just someone sitting on the L to me. You're somebody to me."

He's not glancing at your lips like he has some ulterior motive or like it only means something if he can kiss you. Tom's eyes just stay on yours and they don't move or change in any way. It's all just him being completely honest. He can't really explain it. Feelings, emotions really, are weird in that way. Sometimes, people just can't explain why they feel a certain way about someone and Tom is like with you. You're someone to him. You're his somebody and you should know it. Tom wants to scream it from the rooftops so all of Chicago can hear him if that's what'll take for you to believe it.

You're strong but delicate like canvas. You can hold yourself together just fine and you're resilient, proven time and time again. You have taken beatings and from what Tom can tell, you've had a hard life but you stay together. That said, if something comes in and tears it, cuts a part of you, you'll rip apart. You're strong on the outside but when someone with a strong emotional connection comes in and ruins it, you'll lose your strength. You'll slip and fall, lose everything. So, you should know, you deserve to know that you're somebody to someone, somebody to Tom.

Your eyes are glossed over but you're not willing to let any tears slip. "You're somebody to me, too."

There are those three little words at the tip of your tongue. It's only been a few weeks but you're somebody to him and you knows it's true. He's somebody to you and every piece of you just wants him. You would love more than anything to tell him those three words, pack a few bags, and leave. Just run for as far as you both can but the reality is still there and neither of you can just run away. You have to face your problems and pay your debts but maybe after that, you can use those words and they'll still be true.

"C'mon, we'll shower." Tom presses another kiss to your forehead and you bite your lip, trying to hide the smile that won't die down.

The two of you get out of bed and you go to one of your drawers for fresh clothes. Tom excuses himself to go get his bag from downstairs. He always keeps extra clothes in his bag and he's never been so thankful for it until now.

Tom makes his way downstairs where he's met with the scene of Matty and Harrison sitting on the couch with their feet up on the coffee table and Mikey in a Laz-E Boy. While Tom and you were busy and having a serious discussion, the three guys downstairs were relaxing with beers (and a tea) and Stranger Things playing on the TV. Two completely different atmospheres in the same house and it just baffles Tom but brings a smile to his face.

Tom walks around the couch, behind Harrison. "Where's my bag?"

Harrison turns just enough to get a glance at Tom. "Here." Harrison reaches to floor and hands Tom his bag. "We're still saying, ya?"

Tom shakes his head, a chuckle escaping. "Yeah, we're staying."

"Oh, cool." Harrison says as he looks back to the TV, a satisfied smile now across his lips. "Good episode."

Tom's face contorts in confusion but before he could say anything, Matty's turned facing him. "Where's y/n?"

"Upstairs." Tom nods towards the stairs.

Matty's eyes move to the ceiling when he hears the water start running. Mikey rolls his eyes and resituates. "Have her put more of the ointment on your burns when you're done." Matty gives Tom a cheeky grin before turning back to the TV.

"Right." Tom says with a tiny bit of embarrassment in his voice.

"Go on, scurry, we're watching something." Matty leans forward and grabs his mug, sipping from it before looking back to Tom.

Tom nods, a little confused why Matty is so pushy about him going back upstairs while he catches Mikey glaring at him. It's obvious Matty actually likes Tom and he seems to get along with Harrison, at least now, but Mikey. Mikey doesn't even have to give Tom a look or say anything for Tom to just get the vibe that Mikey doesn't like him. It's not exactly comforting.

Tom climbs the stairs and heads to the closed door beside your room. He knocks softly before hearing you say he could come in. When he enters, the room is already warm and goosebumps form on his skin. Your silhouette can be seen against the shower curtain, your hands running through your hair before coming to the curtain. You poke your head out and a delicate smile graces your face.

"You coming? Cause I don't take half hour showers."

"Oh, yeah." Tom furrows his eyebrows as he nods his head.

"Okay." You laugh tugging the curtain back in position.

Tom sighs and there's just something weird about it. Not a bad weird, more of a good different. He's never showered with anyone. He's thought about it, of course, but it was never in the context of really showering. And he was never this vulnerable in the situation. For some reason, it's racking his nerves and Tom can't quite put his finger on the reason why. But, he shakes off the nerves and undresses, getting his new clothes out beforehand, and he gets in the shower.

"Finally." You chortle, feeling the cold air rush over you while Tom closes the curtain.

"I didn't take that long." Tom defends with a laugh.

"I'm already washing the shampoo out of my hair and then I'm done." You retort, eyes wide and your hands in your hair.

"I'm sorry?" Tom shrugs, a playful smile on his lips.

You finish getting the soap out of your hair and allow Tom inside the water. He winces as the warm water runs down his back. Your face contorts in empathy as you watch him try to get used to the stinging.

You knows it's agonizing but it wears off after a few minutes. It always wears off until the soap comes, then it's like someone is setting one's back on fire all over again. Soap might help keep infections at bay but it certainly doesn't feel like it.

"This sucks." Tom mutters as water cascades down his body.

"I know." You whisper just above the pattering of the water. "Turn around and we'll get it over with."

Tom runs a hand through his hair, before nodding and turning around to face the wall. His burns are inflamed from the water. The ones you had seen originally are bright red with ragged edges, peeling skin showing they're healing. The ones from that night though, they're a horrible, blood red with blotches of different shades. If they were big, they'd actually be stomach-turning to even look at. But, you know it's just the fresh water and they will look better, kind of, in the morning and after you clean them and put the ointment on them again.

You grab the bar of soap and run it between your hands before resting it back on the edge of the tub. You're slow and gentle as you move a hand over Tom's back, cleaning over the burns. His body shutters and one of his arm reaches out, hand pressed against the tile of the wall to keep him standing. His head hangs and you know he's in a ton of pain. You try to wash and clean the burns as fast as you can but you keep your movements delicate to try and keep the stinging to an absolute minimum.

You watch your hand travel along the pale muscles of his back and your heart just aches for him. He deserves better. It doesn't matter what he did to get him here, the point is that he deserves better. He deserves so much better and yet here he is. He is putting all of his trust in your hands. Tom is being vulnerable, something no one ever likes to be with people, especially people who have lied but here he is. To put trust in someone in this state, that's completely insane. But, that's what makes him good. He is so good and he is wonderful and everything amazing. It takes a special kind of person to just do this, to be like Tom and he deserves better.

Tom is biting his bottom so hard the taste of iron starts to fill his mouth. His eyes are squeezed as tight as they can be but tears are still slipping by and joining the water falling over his face. Tom's arm shakes and his heart races in his throat. It's taking everything in him not to scream or let out a wail, collapse onto the shower floor or even just ask you to stop. Having to deal with the pain is one of the hardest things he's been through and he hates it so much. His head is spinning and the only thing he can feel is the stinging. Tom can't even feel when you take your hand away after you're done.

"You can turn around now." You whisper.

Tom turns around and his eyes are bright red while the back of his hand comes to wipe his nose. "Thanks." He croaks out, still rubbing the tip of his nose.

Your shoulder shrugs just once. "You don't have to thank me." Tom nods while you hand him your shampoo. "You'll smell like me now." Tom shuffles the bottle in his hands as he manages to stifle a laugh. "I'ma get out and stuff but just meet me in my room, alright?"

"Yeah," Tom meets your eyes as he licks his lip, remnants of blood gone from the water. "Thank you."

You roll your eyes. "You did the same for me. You just don't know it." You give him a thankful smile before pulling the curtain open just enough to exit the shower.

You could stay in there with him to make sure he's really alright but if it were you, you'd want the rest of your shower to be just you and your thoughts. Tom isn't you but with this, you think he might think the same. So, you wrap your hair in a towel and dry off before putting on Blackhawks pajama pants and a plain red t-shirt.

You leave the bathroom, a shiver running down your spine as you hit the cooled air of the house compared to the steamed bathroom. But, you don't turn towards your bedroom, instead, you head for the stairs. You're met with the exact same sight Tom was and you just narrow your eyes in suspicion but if the three of them are willing to watch a show together, they have to be getting along so you're not gonna complain. Instead, you walk up from behind Matty.

"Can I talk to you for a sec?"

Matty's eyes widen as you whisper in his eat, mostly just from not expecting you. "You okay?"

"Always." You say. "C'mon." You jerk your head towards the kitchen and Matty gets up, Harrison and Mikey looking at you with raised brows but go right back to watching the TV while you leave.

You open the back door and allow the two of you outside. "Okay...something serious?" Matty asks once the door is closed.

"Do you like Tom? I mean, as a human." You ask and the question is blunt, seemingly out of nowhere.

"Yeah, why?" Matty asks and his arms wrap around himself to stay warm.

You lick your lips and you give Matty a little bit of awkward smile. "I...like him, a lot and I...I just need to know you like him."

Matty nods and gives you a sweet smile. "He's great, y/n." Matty assures. "He makes you happy."

"Yeah..." You bite the inside of your cheek and Matty knows there's more to this than just asking if he likes Tom.

"So...?"

"I run." You sigh. "I run because other people run so if I run first, they can't run. Do you think he'll run....if....if I tell....him stuff?"

Matty shakes his head without hesitation. "No, I think he'll stay if you tell him." You nod and you're fiddling with your fingers, your bottom lip between your teeth. Matty puts his hands on your shoulders. "He stood up to Arthur for you." Matty says, voice gentle and pleading. "I think he'll stay."

You send him a thankful smile, a small bit of relief coming over you. "Thanks."

"Of course." Matty grins. "Should get back in there."

"Yeah, are you having fun?" You chuckle as you open the door.

"Harrison's great." Matty beams. "So, yes. Have fun with Tom." Matty pats your shoulder while he walks in front of you and heads back to his spot on the couch.

You climb the stairs back to your room and your hands are sweaty and clammy, nerves growing. You don't talk about your mom because it brings up horrible memories. It's like it's a trigger. It tends to send you on this type of spiral mentally. You want to self-destruct but there's a part of you that knows the reason for that is because you don't talk about it. You close yourself off so much that talking about anything at all can ease the tension in your shoulder and lift that weight of the world from you. It can do something, help you connect and build up more friendships than just those of Matty and Mikey.

You reach your room and Tom is looking at one of your posters about orcas. He's reading the text about what food they eat and how they're not actually a whale, but a dolphin. The poster itself is an image of a pod of orcas swimming beneath the ocean. It's one of your favorites. There's something about how elegant the animals look just swimming together in their own environment that makes you feel a bit at peace.

"Hey." You pull Tom's attention from the poster.

"They're dolphins?" Tom asks as he points to the poster and you shut the door.

"Yeah." You giggle softly. "Uh, technically, all dolphins are whales but there's kind of a subcategory. Think, wolves and dogs. They're all canines but they're two different species ya know?" You ramble and Tom's face lights up leaning on every word you're saying. "But orcas have teeth which puts them in a suborder with other dolphins, the ones you're used to seeing. And, they're shaped more like a dolphin. They're streamlined and smaller the smallest baleen whale. Their heads are rounded but go into a beak but whales actually have more squared heads and don't have beaks." You take a breath and you feel like you should stop but there's just one more thing you can't help but mention. "Also, dolphins are the only marine mammal that actually uses echolocation a lot. Other marine mammals just use to get around, but dolphins use it to communicate, find food, get around, they never shut up, really." A shy smile takes over your face as you look to your hands, picking at your fingernails.

"That's really cool." Tom beams and he's so genuine. He really could listen to you ramble about marine life for days if you wanted to.

"You think so?" You look up with hopeful eyes.

"Yeah, I do." Tom affirms, walking away from the poster and going to your bed.

You walk over to your mirror where you have a brush ready to get your hair down. Tom watches you take the towel from your head, shaking it a few times before resting it on the chair by your desk. You grab your brush and start brushing your hair, turning to face Tom.

"Do you need a brush...a comb?" You ask.

"Nah, 's alright." Tom chuckles. "Don't care much what it looks like right now."

"It looks good, just for the record." You smirk but your words are meaningful. The messy fresh out of the shower look looks good on him. Everything looks good on him.

"Thanks, darling." Tom chuckles and you make your way towards him, picking up the laptop from your desk.

"Here." You open it and pull up the Netflix screen. "You can turn something on." You say as you go back to brushing your hair.

"What do you wanna watch?" Tom asks, pulling the laptop towards himself.

"Whatever, really." You shrug.

"How's the Iron Giant?" Tom asks and you can't help but laugh.

"I love that movie, go for it." You say as you walk back to your dresser and rest your brush on top of it. "But, ya know, I'm gonna have to put that ointment on your burns." You mutter, feeling a little uneasy about bringing it up.

"Right." Tom says with a soft groan while the movie starts playing. He reaches to the side of the bed where he put his bag and digs out the ointment.

"Lay on your stomach." You join him on the bed and he hands you the tube.

Tom does as told and once he's settled, you put the laptop in front of him so you can both see the screen. You straddle his lower back and Tom relaxes under you. It's not that he didn't trust Matty to put the ointment on originally, it was just that he doesn't know Matty really and it all just happened. But, Tom knows you're going to go slow if you have to and you know how to make sure you won't cause him too much pain. You proved that when you washed the burns in the shower. So, he relaxes.

"So," You start as you unscrew the cap. "Why, uh, why don't you talk to your family?" You ask and Tom barely even hears you.

There's something different about tonight. It's everything. It's everything between the night before and then tonight. You saved his ass and he saved yours the night before. You're helping him and there's something that just feels so much different. It's like that night in his room but deeper. There's something better going on here and it might get dark and twisty and scary, but it goes deeper than that night and Tom isn't going to let that go. So, he talks.

"They didn't like that I was boxing for money. I'd lost my job and was mostly focused on that. Got a bit addicted to it. Started gambling with bigger money, knew that if I lost it, I'd just go fight a few matches and come back with enough to pay off the debt. Came home hurt once, bad. Could hardly walk, Haz helped me back and that was it for them. Mum told me I'd have to stop or that was it." Tom's voice is distant and sad as if he's almost dissociating to explain.

"You gave up your family for boxing?" You ask and you keep the judgment out of your voice.

"Wasn't the boxing really. They didn't want to accept that it was what I liked to do. If I could change it, I would. Don't like how it is now, don't like doing it this way. Don't like ultimatums either." Tom explains and the guilt seeps into every word.

"Did you try apologizing to them?" You start on one of the burns and Tom hisses in response.

"Wrote 'em a letter." Tom groans out.

"You could call them." You try.

You just don't think a letter is the right way to do things but you don't know his family. Tom, though, he doesn't answer. Not for a few minutes because he doesn't know how to respond to that. Calling and apologizing is the logical, meaningful, and rational thing to do but he didn't. He wrote that letter explaining that his choice was wrong and he was truly sorry for everything. He never meant to hurt his family.

He never got a letter back.

"Scared." Tom mumbles.

"They're your family though. If they're willing to hear you out, isn't it worth it?" You offer the reasonable thought.

Tom knows you're right. He's picked up the phone a thousand times to call but he can never bring himself to do it. He can't click the call button but he misses his family and at least if he does call them, he made the effort to try and make amends. He can die knowing he tried.

"Okay, I'll call 'em if you do the same with yours. Said your parents aren't around?" Tom offers as he looks over his shoulder to you.

If he's agreeing, he wants you to make the same movement. But, not for him, for you. He doesn't want you to feel as bad as he does for not contacting his parents.

You suck in a breath and move onto the next burn, Tom hisses once more. "Okay, I will tell you why I can't talk to my mom and why I don't want to but I'm not ready to tell you about my dad. I don't want to talk about my father, that okay?" You ask and your voice is genuinely asking him because you want to talk.

"Okay." Tom agrees, him facing the laptop screen but his undivided attention is with you.

"Mom went on a bender when I was twelve and never came home." You just blurt the sentence out, a sentence you've never actually said out loud before.

When your mom had ditched your family, it was just known. You told Mikey and Matty that she left. She was high out of her mind and drunk and then she left, she'd be back because she's never not come home. Not until then. So, this was the first time you have actually said it out loud. Had Tom known that was the reason you don't talk to your mom, he never would have said you should call.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean. I didn't-"

"No, it's fine. You didn't know. She had a drug and alcohol problem."

You're rubbing the ointment into a third burn but Tom's eyes aren't closed from the sting of the burn. Instead, they're closed because he feels terrible for you. A parent with a drug and alcohol problem who then just leaves, that's...horrible.

"That why you don't drink?" Tom chooses to ask.

"Yeah, ya know? I don't wanna end up like her." There's a waver in your voice as your fingers run over the raw skin of Tom's back. "Well, she ya know? Chose drugs and stuff and just...never came home. And she was still with my dad but they weren't, my dad wasn't, like "oh stay together for the kids!!" Your voice mocks the stereotypical phrase before it drops back down. "It was a lot and Travis had a lot going on and she just came and went all the time, high out of her mind. My dad tried to kick her out but she always came back and when he'd change the locks, she'd camp out on the porch so it was kind of pointless, ya know?"

You pause for a few seconds and Tom lets you. He doesn't know what to say or if there's anything he can say. In fact, he feels even worse for not contacting his family. Sure, he's got issues with his but not like this. His reasons are so petty and pointless compared to yours. You all but literally said you had to grow up without a mom despite your mom still being around. Tom took his parents for granted but he still can't imagine what that would be like, with either of his parents. It's just not fair for a kid. It's not fair for anymore.

You move onto one of the fresh burns and Tom buries his face into your comforter, groaning in pain. You wince at his reaction but keeps going. The more you talk, the more Tom seems to be paying attention to you rather than the pain he's in.

"So, it's been ten years, the day you guys picked me up, yeah, ten years. And I've never gotten a birthday card or a phone call or a letter, nothing. She just...left."

Tom clears his throat and he just has to ask, "What do you think happened? If that's okay to ask?"

"I dunno. Part of me hopes she's out still getting high and drunk and just, being her deadbeat self because at least that means she left for the drugs because if she's out living a better life in like Montana, that means everything she said was true and she left because of me. So, there's a part of me that hopes that's true because at least she's not dead somewhere and she's living but more of me hopes she's still a drug addict and alcoholic who's also a pathological liar." Your voice goes completely cold with the last few words and Tom feel your disdain. And your hurt. But there's more because you should never feel like you're the reason people left. If your mom is out getting high and wasted off her ass, that has nothing to do with a child.

"Why do you think she left because of you?" Tom asks boldly while you move to another burn. Tom is looking over his shoulder and his jaw is squared, telling you exactly what that question means.

"She told me. She told me I was a failed abortion and I was the worst thing that's ever happened to her. She said she should have just dumped me in the dumpster outside of the hospital or left me at a fire station."

Tom's jaw falls a little slack and he just looks at you in a state of shock. You dodge his eyes while you just rub the ointment into the red burn. Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are starting to gloss over. Tom's entire chest is just constricting for you. It is so un-fucking-fair. Life isn't fair but this isn't about life. This is about a parent, someone who's supposed to love their children unconditionally, mistreating their child. That's not okay and no one, no child, no person deserves that.

"My dad kicked her out for the first time that night. December 13th, was about twenty degrees outside and it was snowing. She was in shorts and a tank top. My dad was never cruel when he kicked her out but he was that time because he heard what she said. He told her to go to a shelter if she wanted to stay warm and his name is on the deed so she couldn't go to the cops." You explain further and it surprises Tom a bit but by the low volume of your voice and pain etched in every word, he's guessing if you stop talking, you'll break. You sigh as you finish the last burn. "Yeah, so I dunno. She could be dead in a ditch somewhere, a crematorium, a morgue, a mansion with her new family, I don't know and I like not knowing."

A few beats pass and you question if you made the right choice in telling Tom. He's never this quiet but he just is. His eyes are on the screen and your thumbs are rubbing the muscles of his back now and you're so close to breaking down because you trust him. You trust him and he's not saying anything and you don't know why or even how to ask. But, Tom catches you off guard.

He looks over his shoulder and starts rotating, hinting for you to move off of him. Your heart sinks further into your stomach as he rolls over and sits up, facing you. Tom stares at you for a few seconds and there are a million things he wants to tell you. He wants to tell you that you should try to find your mom and then tell her the fuck off because your mom is a shitty person. You don't need her. Another part of him though, that part wants to pull you into a hug and promise that you're nothing like your mom. He doesn't have to know your mom to know that. You take care of people you don't even know. You deserve to be happy.

You lick your lips and you're about to say something but Tom doesn't let you. He extends his arms and pulls you into his chest, his arms completely engulfing you and you relax into him. His legs are crossed and you move to straddle his lap, the hug being more comfortable and you feel happy and safe in his arms. You don't feel like speaking was a mistake. It hurts, yes, it's always going to hurt talking about your mom but Tom, he's good at comforting.

Tom pulls away and his hands go to cup your cheeks. His voice is shallow as he whispers, heart thundering in his chest and aching with the sight of your red-rimmed eyes. "You deserve better."