Chapter Text
It was a joke.
They were joking.
This was all an elaborate prank.
Thomas wished these words were true, wished so hard, but the shoe never dropped. He stared in shock, his mouth agape as he tried to grasp the situation. Martin, Martha, they died. He would never see their beautifully handsome face ever again. What kind of game was God playing? It had to be fake. It was just a lie, just some stupid misunderstanding. It can’t be true, Thomas refused to accept that. A certain part of him could feel him dying. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was his punishment. Whatever god up there must be playing a big fucking joke on him because he didn’t want a soulmate in the first place, right? He hadn’t wanted a soulmate, and now that he had one, they died.
He flinched at the thought. Martha, his partner of five years, the very person he’s stuck with no matter what, the kindest person he knew just died. God, they were so happy. Thomas recalled the promise ring he’d given her not only a few months ago. A sacred agreement he had intended to keep. But, evidently, life had other plans. His heart twisted at the vivid memory playing in his head like a record, prompting him to look up at his friends.
“Did she die in pain?” He asked softly, his voice cracking under the stress of grief as he spared them a glance.
“No, they- they died on impact. It was…” James paused, not sure if he should continue his statement.
“It was what?” Thomas asked, curiosity and irritation seeping through his words when his friend hesitated.
“It was a neck fracture, Thomas.” James told him, strained and regretful as if it pained him to repeat the words. “They were dead as soon as the car hit.”
Thomas let the words sink in for a moment. At least she wasn’t in pain, he tried to remind himself. He may be, but at least they weren’t. Thomas was about to ask more questions when he felt a sharp stinging in his head. Slowly, he raised his hand to his head, stopping right above his eyebrow where he felt a jagged line etched through his skin. He traced the line once, twice, before pressing against it, causing another jolt of pain to erupt. He rubbed his eyes before shifting his gaze to the door, then back to Lafayette.
“When can I leave?” He asked, his hands shaking. This was starting to remind him of a period of time where he wasn’t doing the best.
“I- I’m not sure,” the Frenchman responded honestly, “I’d have to ask the doctor. Would you like me to bring them here?”
At his nod, Lafayette and James quickly left the room to track down the doctor, leaving Thomas to his thoughts. It felt like the world was spinning, his mind a daze as he tried to think of the events of the car crash. At first, he was able to remember brief moments — where they were going and why they left. It was a crisp morning, he recalled, and they were out to get coffee before a long day of school. Thomas had begged Martin to take them both off-campus due to the university’s less than stellar reputation when it came to their cafe. He tried to think past that, but his memory was far too foggy for him to even make out what went down. So, instead of trying to build his memory, he decided to reflect on what he could remember.
They had left campus on Thomas’ request. They went to the cafe on Thomas’ request. They took a shortcut as to not be late for class on Thomas’ request. There was no going around it.
Thomas killed Martha.
Realisation dawned on him like a brick to the face. It was his fault, his, his, his. If he hadn’t told them- if he hadn’t asked to go in the first place, she’d be fine. She’d be here, alive, and not waiting on a damned clock for when her funeral is going to be. Just his luck; Thomas finally finds someone who can put up with his bullshit, someone who would finally love him, and he ends up murdering them. Fucking typical.
His self-loathing was cut short when a small woman in a navy-blue set of scrubs and a clipboard in her hand walked into the room, Laf and James in tow. She set her clipboard down on the nearby desk in the corner of the room before pulling out a rolling chair and sitting down.
“Hi, my name is Hayley and I’m the main nurse that’ll be helping you.” She informed him before standing to check the beeping monitor beside him. “Okay, can you tell me what happend?”
He tried to think, to remember the events of this morning. “Alright, um… I remember me and Martin getting up to get coffee, so we went to the cafe a couple blocks away from campus. We were driving an-and then-” he paused, staring at her in horror, “I- I can’t remember. I can’t think . I- I’m- I can’t-”
“Hey, that’s okay, I wasn’t expecting you to. Instead, can you tell me how you’re feeling?” She asked, smiling with unwarranted softness.
Like shit, he wanted to say. Instead, he tried to return the smile, “Not the best. My head is throbbing and my spine and neck feel like hell.”
“Any dizziness? Nausea?”
“Oh yeah, I feel like I’m going to throw up, but I know I won’t.” He replied, his brain still spinning.
The nurse dept and quietly wrote down each of his responses before holding up all her fingers, her palms facing herself. “Now, rate the pain in your neck. Ten being the worst you ever felt,” she said, wiggling her left thumb, then wiggled her right thumb and continued, “and one being not painful at all.”
He thought for a moment before raising seven fingers up, “Seven or eight, more so seven than eight though. Maybe seven and a quarter? I don’t know.”
She jotted this down, then quickly held her open hands back up. “And the pain in your neck? Remember, be as honest as you can.”
“I’d say, uh…maybe a six? It’s mostly my head to be precise.”
“Okay, so I’m going to place this collar-”
“Collar?” Thomas interrupted, the horror clear on his face.
“Yes, well, it’s more of a neck brace than an actual collar, but I will have to put it on you to make sure the bones in your neck don't shift.” She told him placatingly as she held up the object. It was made of styrofoam-like material and a few pieces of plastic, with a velcro band to stick it together. Slowly, she fastened to his neck, careful not to make any sharp movements that may damage the already-fragile bones. She looked it over before meeting his eyes with a puzzling gaze. “How does it feel?”
Humiliating. Painful. Uncomfortable.
“Uh- good. It feels normal, I think?” he responded instead.
With a curt nod, Hayley walked out the room. Laf stopped her at the door frame, then engaged in a long muttering session, much to Thomas’ annoyance. He hated when he wasn’t included in conversations— especially ones that involve him. The two spoke for a few more moments until the nurse eventually had to leave, not without reminding Thomas to call for her if he needed anything. Laf walked over to a chair beside his friend’s hospital bed, slumping into it.
“What did you two talk about?” Thomas asked with a raised eyebrow, noting Laf’s solemn expression.
“The nurse?” He asked cluelessly.
With a roll of his eyes, Thomas scowled. “No, the ceiling. Yes, the fucking nurse. ”
“Ah, well that was an interesting conversing.” He pondered, tapping his finger on his chin.
“ Conversation. ”
“Yes, that. She said you have a mild concussion and will have to take a couple of tests to make sure nothing else is broken. This will take a bit.” Lafayette explained, his voice hesitant as he tried to recall the exact phrasing.
Impatient and annoyed, he glared at his friend. “And just how long will that take?”
“Two days. You will have to wait two days.”
“Yeah, no,” Thomas scoffed, “don’t think I will.”
James observed him with increasing concern. “Thomas-”
“ No. You don’t get to tell me what to do anymore. I’m a grown adult for fucks sake.” He yelled at him, throwing his hands in the air. Wincing as the gesture elicited a sharp pain, he let his arms slump back to their original position. He hated being trapped, left with no decisions. Thomas had had enough of that in the past, and he certainly wasn’t looking forward to it now.
“God, Thomas, you nearly fucking died! Take the time to sit your ass down and get things straight before you leap back into the world.” He snapped back at him.
“Who said anything about going back into the world? I’d be perfectly content with sleeping all day.” He mutters in retaliation.
“That’s my fucking point. You can’t be out of the hospital and be- be expected to take care of yourself.” James was getting visibly agitated, a look that didn’t quite suit him. “You will stay here, you don’t have a fucking choice. So, it’s either you lay down and shut up, or- or…”
“Or what?” Thomas drawled, using humour to stop himself from crying, “You’ll spank me?”
James’ eyes widened as he tried to maintain a straight face—and he was struggling, for very obvious reasons—and Thomas could see his cheeks darken slightly. He sputtered for a response before taking a deep breath. “I know you Thomas, and I know how you’re feeling right now. But it’s time you knew yourself, don’t you think?” And with that, he left the room, white hospital doors swinging behind him. He glared, baffled at his words. Laf, who’d decided to stay, smiled at him half-heartedly and watched as Thomas flopped back onto the firm bed beneath him, his eyes flickering back to his friend after hearing him chuckle softly. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking what the fuck is so funny right now?
Lafayette raised a hand, interrupting him before he could even speak. “The sight of you, pleading to not be stuck here, while you are still on the fucking hospital bed. Mon dieu, I knew you were stubborn, not dumb.”
“Wow, betrayal by my own brother,” he joked, placing a hand on his chest as his face screamed of mock-hurt. “Et tu, Brute?”
“Haha, hilarious,” the Frenchmen deadpanned, “I shall grab a blanket now.”
“What?” Thomas looked bewildered, not expecting this.
Laf gave him a sympathetic look before continuing, “You did not seriously think that we were going to leave you here all alone, did you? Please, Thomas, be realistic. No one is going to leave you until we know you are safe. James would have my head if he had found out I left.” There was a subconscious ‘ you know what happened last time’ added. Thomas swallowed thickly before giving him a pert nod, pulling the scratchy hospital covers over his head. He didn’t notice it before, but his eyelids were getting heavier and heavier to keep open. Falling into a deep sleep with ease, he first felt Laf press a light kiss at the top of his forehead and curled into the warmth. His friend let out another, softer chuckle and slid into the bed, wrapping his arms around Thomas. For his part, Thomas was completely relaxed by the hold, able to drift faster than he had in a while.
✼ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ✼
Thomas cleared his throat as he watched Martha waltz into view. They two had been best friends for many years, being brought up together since birth. It’s only now, on this brisk June morning that he notices her being truly nervous. She was grasping at her right hand, picking at her skin and wringing her hands. He grins at her, trying to give her some sort of reassurance that she doesn’t need to be nervous. It must have worked, seeing as how she took a deep breath and gave him a small smile in return. It wasn’t a real smile perhaps — barely reaching her eyes — but a smile nonetheless. Martha somewhat calmly gestured for him to sit at the bench beside her. Thomas, trying to lighten the mood a bit more, dramatically flopped down, earning a laugh in return.
“Well, what brings us out here?” He asked, meeting her eyes with an expression soft with pure care for the person before him.
“Ah, I’ve got something to tell you.” She managed to sputter out, clenching the mosaic-patterned fabric in her lap. Thomas, being ever so vigilant, noticed the tension and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, whatever you have to say, we’ll get through it together, yeah?” He encouraged her, putting a bit of pressure on his hand, “Me and you, like always, okay?”
“Okay,” she took a deep breath and stared straight into his eyes. “You’re the first person to know this, but….I think I might be genderfluid.” Her voice drew softer as she spoke the last few words, subconsciously pulling herself inwards. Embarrassed, Martha buried her face in her hands, only looking up to observer Thomas’ reaction. She watched his eyes grow wide, fearing the worst and causing her heart to plummet. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-”
“Martha.”
She continued, conveniently unable to hear him. “Really! It was stupid of me, I shouldn’t have-”
“Martha.”
Her eyes grew wide, “You can’t tell my parents, they’ll kill me I-”
“Martha!” Thomas shouted, grabbing both her shoulders now, and pulled her into a hug. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured.
“Yeah?” She asked, hopeful.
“Yeah.”
✼ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ҉ ✼
Creaking his eyes open, Thomas felt a tear slide down his face. The sharp dream tugged at his brain as the memories of the day he’d just had resurfaced. It was only sometime early in the afternoon that he’d fallen asleep, and he’d begun to miss Lafayette's comforting warmth. He must have left while he was napping, taking the heat with him. Thomas chewed the inside of his mouth — nervous habit, really something he should be in control of by now — and sat up, searching the room for his friend.
The Frenchman appeared holding steaming mugs in both hands. They pushed the hot cup into Thomas’ hands, curling their fingers around their own mug.
“Hot chocolate,” Lafayette explained, “don’t burn yourself.”
Taking his warning into consideration, Thomas took an experimental sip, smiling as the sweet liquid met his dry lips. He muttered his thanks before taking another long sip, setting aside time to admire the rich cocoa flavour. After leaning against the bed’s railings, Thomas scrunched his nose in thought. He’d been looking forward to hot chocolate that morning. It was his idea to get coffee, yes, but it was really supposed to be an excuse to get a warming cup of cocoa. Martin must have known about the ploy, seeing as they were well aware of his distaste for bitter things. He bit his lip, curling into himself at the thought. God, it really was all his fault wasn’t it?
Laf must’ve noticed his discomfort, sliding a hand to their friend’s shoulder and squeezing it lightly.
“Mon ami, what is troubling you?” He asked, offering a small smile.
Thomas thought for a moment before deciding that he shouldn’t trouble them with his useless rambles. “Ah, it’s nothing,” he lied easily, “I just haven’t brushed my teeth yet.” He let out a chuckle that sounded fake, even to himself. Aiming for ‘convincing’, he let a strained smile grace his lips.
Lafayette frowned, looking over Thomas with concerned eyes, then met his. “I do not believe you, but if you truly do not want to speak on it, I will leave you- it be. But, Thomas, If this is something that…” he trailed off, trying to think of the correct word, “that is troubling you, you must tell me, okay?”
Thomas gave him a small nod before downing the rest of the now cooled hot chocolate. He let out a shaky breath, staring down his friend’s eyes. If he told Lafayette the truth, he would baby him and tell him platitudes about how it wasn’t his fault. Then again, if he lied, they’d probably hound him until Thomas gave in. He’d much rather get it over with than to drag for days, he supposed.
“Hot cocoa, one of our favourites.” Thomas told him, scratching the back of his wrist nervously. “It’s hard, I guess, remembering her and knowing what I did to her. This wouldn’t have happened if I- if I’d just-”
“Deep breaths, mon frére.” Lafayette reminded him.
“It’s just- fuck this is all my fault Laf,” Thomas ran a hand through his hair and shuddered, “If I hadn’t done this, if I didn’t have to be this way, maybe we wouldn’t even be in this mess.”
Maybe if I’d just done it right the first time, I wouldn’t be here to fuck this up, Thomas thought to himself. He scratched the inside of his wrist absentmindedly, ignoring Laf’s rushed promises of something too far gone. He already knew what was to come from it, so why wait?
The nurse soon arrived to take him for a short trip to the radiology department so that he could get his CT scans. Even though he was fully capable of walking on his own she insisted on rolling him around on a chair labelled ‘ Radiology ’ — hospital policy and all that. It was, to say the least, embarrassing. As they wheeled him around, he thought about the implications of him leaving here tomorrow. He doesn’t think he could handle being stuck in the same car or room as the one they shared. It would just be too…painful to watch.
It’s funny, it kept randomly clicking that Martha’s dead. They're gone. He was just thinking about making a joke to her about his current situation, but he realised that he’s not going to be able to go home (he says home, more like the dorm) to see them ever again. Chewing the inside of his cheek again, Thomas fiddles with the idea in his head.
Once he finally reached the Radiology Department, he was wheeled over to the CT room. A man introduced himself as Doctor Kellen, and helped Thomas off the chair and led him towards the CT machine. Careful of the collar, Kellen set him onto the machine.
“What’s your name and date of birth?” the doctor asked him, setting a pillow under Thomas’ legs so that they’re raised and more comfortable.
Thomas hesitated a bit, not expecting the question, “Thomas Jefferson. Date of birth, April 13th, 1997.”
The man hummed, before looking directly at his patient, “Any metals or jewelry on you?”
Cautious, Thomas slid off the promise ring and handed it to the man. A second later, he realised that he still had his chain necklace on. He unclasped that before dropping in the man’s palm and laying flat onto the bed. Whirring surrounded him as the bed moved into the machine, spinning quickly. He was told to relax, releasing the tension in his shoulder ever so slightly. His thoughts shifted to Martha—they have been all day—and their smile.
Thomas was well aware of the fact that when he and Martin started dating, he was thoroughly broken. Martin was the only one able to seal whatever cracks he had, only, it was temporary. There were days, there were many days that Thomas could feel himself cracking even more. Every time he could feel himself slipping, she was always there to help him. But now?
Now, Thomas knew he was completely shattered, and there’s no one to help him pick up the pieces.