Work Text:
They know. They know. They know! Thomas recited in his head, grabbing two handfuls of hair and pulling it. They all bloody know! Even Carson knows. What is he supposed to do without a reference? No one will take him in after this. Idiot! He shouted in his head. He should have never been nice to Jimmy, being nice only gets you hurt. He learned this long ago but his love for Jimmy made him forget all about it for once. Why wasn’t he allowed to be happy? Thomas knows he can be an arse, but doesn’t he still deserve a little bit of happiness?
He lit a cigarette as he was starting to panic. He needed to calm himself before he was too far gone. He took a large inhale of his cigarette and shakily exhaled. He watched the smoke as it twisted and turned in the air distracting himself. It wasn’t enough though. It hardly ever was anymore, not after the war. He pulled up his sleeve exposing his left forearm. With a shaky breathe he slowly lowered the cigarette burnt end down until it was hovering over his arm. Feeling the heat radiating off of it he exhaled and brought it down onto his skin. His exhale turned into a hiss and the familiar feeling of a burn started to calm him down. After a moment he lifted the cigarette off and put it back in his mouth taking another inhale.
“Thomas! What in heavens name are you doing?” He heard the frantic call of Mrs. Hughes. He hastily put out his cigarette and tried to tug his sleeve down hoping that Mrs. Hughes wouldn’t see what he has just done. Trying to gather himself he muttered out a shaky “Nothing Mrs. Hughes, just enjoying the fresh night air.”
“That didn’t look like nothing to me Mr. Barrow. Roll up your sleeve this instance!” Mrs. Hughes said hurrying over to him.
Thomas knew a lost cause when he saw one so he took a breath, slowly exhaled, and pulled up his shirt sleeve. “Oh Thomas, what have you done?” Mrs. Hughes says, gingerly taking his arm into her hands inspecting the burn. What she saw was a series of burns and scars that littered his forearm, some new and some much older.
He yanks it back, “None of your business Mrs. Hughes, I'm fine.”
“That doesn’t looking like nothing to me Mr. Barrow. You know you can come to me or Carson with anything right?”
Thomas looks at her bewildered, “Yeah right, the same man that said I deserved to be horse whipped?!”
“Why would he say that Mr. Barrow?” Mrs. Hughes said wide eyed. "I know he can be an insufferable old fool, but I doubt he meant it Mr. Barrow. He let's his anger take over sometimes."
Thomas just sighed and look down, kicking a stray rock under his foot. Mrs. Hughes places her hand gently on his shoulder, making him look up. "You think I haven’t met my fair share of blokes like you Mr. Barrow? Well I have, and I find you to be no different than the rest of us. You cant help who you prefer," she says leaving a kind smile on her face.
"But everyone knows now! I just can't take it... hence what you just saw. They are going to all hate and look at me with disgust, if they hadn't already before!" he exclaimed frustrated.
"No matter what they think Mr. Barrow. They best keep their thoughts to themselves or it'll be me they'll answer to!" Mrs. Hughes said, encouragingly.
He had always felt as though Mrs. Hughes reminded him of his mum in a sense. Especially when his mother used to fight off the school boys that would taunt him and follow him home.
"I thank you Mrs. Hughes. It really does mean a great deal to me." Thomas said, a fond smile emerging on his lips.
"Well, now lets get inside and get you all patched up Mr. Barrow. I don't want to be catching our death out here in this night chill!" Mrs. Hughes exclaimed, leading him inside with one had resting gently on his back.
He hopes things will get better soon and the noise will calm down about him. At least he has Mrs. Hughes to help him through it all. His one saving grace in this disaster called his life.