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There are days.
Days where Tommy is quiet. Where he just comes over, slumping against me on my couch and drifting off to sleep. Sometimes it’s on days where we go out, and I can simply just see it. The plasticity of his smile, his hesitation with jokes. So I know it happens. But I also know that he trusts me to be there when it does.
But I think it’s happening. And this time he isn’t here, leaning against me. This time he’s gone, and he’s not responding to anyone I’ve asked. He hasn’t for nearly a week. I even made a point to drive to Wilbur’s, thinking that he’d be with him, if anyone.
But Wilbur hasn’t heard from him either.
“Seriously? Like, at all, at all?” He shakes his head, concern making its way onto his face. I know he knows, and vice versa. “I mean, he usually comes to me when it gets bad. I’m..” I look into his eyes, “I’m worried.”
Wilbur doesn’t know Tommy and I are together. Tommy told me once. Told me that he was scared of Wilbur’s perception of him changing. So he hasn’t come out.
But Wilbur is very observant. I doubt he won’t know by the end of this. Or at least think I have a crush on Tommy.
“Let’s go then.” He stands, walking towards the door. I follow him, watching as he grabs his jacket. He looks at me and holds out his hand, and I’m confused for a split second. But then I get it, finding my car keys in my coat pocket and dropping them in his palm. Then we leave.
The air is cold, colder than when I got here, but maybe that’s just me. Because now I’m really worried. Before I didn’t even consider the worst-case scenario.
His hands press into my hair, gently pulling. His lips are messy along my neck, and his hands push up my shirt and against my torso. It sends chills down my spine. When my fingertips meet the bottom of his stomach, he slows to a stop.
As we catch our breath I see it. The shameful look on his face. I reach out and tilt his chin towards me. “Hey, we don’t have to.”
“I know. I mean, I want to. Obviously I want to, I mean look at me.” I do, and he’s dishevelled. His hair’s a mess of dark gold, and his lips are a wonderful red. I look down between us, and there’s a tent on the front of his pants. “Hey. My eyes are up here. I didn’t mean literally look at me, jerk.”
He laughs, and I look back up. Now his cheeks are red too. This would probably be more embarrassing for us if he was the only one hard. But, of course, he’s not.
“So, you want to. I want to.” I rub my thumbs into his sides.
“I have to.. uh, tell you something first.”
I try to lighten the tense mood, “Well, I already know your dick’s small, so that’s out of the way.” I’m lying, but it’s effective, because a smile fades onto his lips.
“No, asshole, it isn’t. And I’m being serious. I need to tell you something.” And in an instant, the smile’s gone, and he won’t look at me anymore. He turns, laying more or less next to me. His legs stay draped over my lap. I lean my head to the side to look at him. Tears build in his eyes, and I go to swipe them away.
“Hey, hey. Love, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“No, I know it isn’t. I just.. I don’t know. It’s hard to say.” I lay my head on his chest, turning so I’m laying between his legs. His arms wrap around me. My head rises and falls with his chest as he takes a few deep breaths. “Okay.”
“Uh, a little while ago, I used to cut myself. Not in places anyone can see normally, but when I’m naked I can’t avoid it, you know? And I know you went through that too, but mine are so.. so visible .” He’s not crying anymore, but I can hear his voice breaking like he’s about to. I look up at him.
“ Tommy. One, thank you for telling me. Two, you know I don’t care about that. I want to have sex with you because I trust you, and I love you. With all my heart. Nothing can change that, and nothing can make me feel weird about doing that with you.”
He’s talked to me a few times about it since. He told me he’d tried to commit a few times, but never by cutting. I don’t tell Wilbur this as we drive. I think he knows about the self-harm, but not the attempts. It’s not my place.
We’re silent, and it makes me want to spill my guts about everything. But I don’t. Well, mostly. “Do you think he–”
“–No. No, he didn’t.” He says it quickly, like he doesn’t believe himself. But only slightly. I want to believe him, I really do. Luckily before I can think too much about it, he clears his throat loudly. “I, uhm, know you two are together.”
I naturally let out a little laugh. “What? That’s…” He looks over at me with his eyebrows slightly raised. Yep, not getting out of this one. “How’d you find out? Is it obvious?”
“Not to everyone. But I know Tommy. When he started talking about you a lot, I had a feeling, but when he invited you to one of our rehearsals, I knew. Mostly because of how you guys were just staring at each other the whole time,” now he softly laughs. “But also because I saw you making out afterwards.”
My face goes red in the little mirror in the sun visor, yet a grin spreads across my mouth. “Well, okay. That’s fair.”
We stop at a red light, and he turns to me. Our eyes meet, and he looks serious. Deadly serious. “I know I don’t need to tell you to treat him right. Because you’re here, and you cared enough to come and get me. That, and you’re the only other person he’s ever trusted with.. this. Not even his parents know. But I will tell you this.”
The light’s green by now, but we’re the only ones out this late, so it doesn’t really matter. He continues. “Tommy’s fucked up. I love him to death, but what we’re about to see isn’t even the worst of it. So if it’s ever too much for you, and I mean ever, leave. Don’t lead him on. He needs someone that’ll be there through all of it. But also, we’re not about to play therapist. He’s getting a diagnosis right now, and neither of us are going to interfere. We’re just going to be there. Okay?”
He finally stops, and he looks at me expectantly.
“Yes. I mean, yeah. I’m here for all of it. And I.. I really love him, man. So, so much. So, let’s go.” I try to brush past the admission, but a giant smile appears on his face as the car starts moving again.
—
The fun mood’s dead by the time we get to Tom’s flat. The air is cold again, and Wilbur gets Tommy’s spare key from inside of some plant, and then we’re inside. Almost all of the lights are off, save the fluorescent kitchen one.
It’s eerie.
There’s trash all over the counters, pots and pans on the off-stove, and a ton of dirty dishes in the sink. The air is heavy, and once we’ve both looked around for a few moments, we continue to walk through the house.
The living room’s in a similar state, with dishes on the coffee table and a ton of blankets everywhere. Next to the couch, there are about six empty bottles of various alcohol. Wine, beer, vodka.
I don’t waste any more time looking around. I walk with Wilbur straight to his room, where Wilbur stops me to knock. We pause, waiting for a response, but nothing comes. So he opens it without an issue, and we enter.
And it is filthy. Dishes, blankets, books, bottles, papers, and everything in between. It’s hazy and dark, but I still see him. His bed is the only clean thing. Like, completely. It’s just a mattress.
He’s laying in the centre, curled in a foetal position, in sweats and an open zip-up. The latter falls on one side, exposing his back. At first, I think he’s asleep, but I listen for a few seconds and don’t hear him snoring.
So I step in front of Wilbur and around the bed, kneeling down to be at his level. His eyes are open, very slightly, and are very red. I glance at his shoulder, which is as scarred as it was seven days ago, with little off-coloured lines dashed across. I pull the jacket back up over his arm, letting my hand fall there.
“Hi, love.”
“What are you doing here?” His voice is rough, and quiet, and most surprisingly, a bit angry. His eyes slip shut, and I glance over to Wilbur. He looks understanding, like he’s seen this before. Which I’m 98% sure is true.
“You haven’t been responding. I was.. I wanted to see you.” I rub his arm a bit.
“Don’t touch me.” I pull away, startled by his tone. He doesn’t mean it. He sits up, hugging himself, and I’ve never seen someone his height look so small. He keeps his eyes on the ground. “And I’m not a fucking charity case, mate. You came to see me, you’ve seen me, I’m fine, leave.” He turns around and meets eyes with Wilbur. “Both of you.”
I look at Wilbur too, silently asking him what we do. He glances at me, then looks at Tommy. “No. You’re not a charity case, but you’re our friend. And we care about you. That’s why we’re here. And you’re not fine, and we all know it, so let us be here.” He says it all at once, so he has to take a breath when he’s done. The tears in his eyes tell me he hasn’t seen it be this bad. “ Okay? ”
Then Tommy nods, standing and looking up at me. He looks confused, like there’s a fight going on inside his head about what he should do. So I open my arms, and he falls into them, crumbling.
I hold him tight, and when he starts crying, Wilbur joins our hug.
After a bit, we all pull away, with me still holding Tommy. Wilbur wipes his tears and tells us to go to the living room, and we do. Once we’re there, he sits on the couch as I clean up a bit.
He keeps apologising for the mess, and telling me I don’t have to clean, but I insist it’s okay. I turn the TV on, and he goes into my account on Netflix. Wilbur texts me he’ll do the kitchen, and to just spend time with Tommy, and I thank him. So once I’ve tossed all of the blankets in the wash, I sit next to him on the couch and try to get into The Great British Bake-Off.
It only takes a few moments for him to lean against me. He pushes me back onto the couch, laying on top of me. “I’m sorry I was an asshole earlier. I didn’t mean it.”
I turn to him, looking into his blue eyes that are darker than usual. “I know. It’s okay.”
He suddenly stands, hands running into his hair. “I.. I need a shower.” His face goes red, and I realise that he’s embarrassed. “Would you, uh.”
I nod, not hesitating to stand.
—
When he’s done showering and I’ve cleaned the entire bathroom, we walk to his bedroom. Everything’s cleaned up, with all the trash gone and all of the clothes in baskets next to his closet. The papers and books are stacked on his desk, and his bed has sheets. His pillows are bare, and we hear Wilbur clear his throat behind us. We turn around.
“Pillowcases are in the wash.” He awkwardly looks between us. “Uh.. I’ll be in the living room so you can get dressed.”
He turns and walks away, closing the door behind him. Tommy laughs quietly, but it’s the best thing I think I’ve ever heard. I've missed hearing it from him. He turns and walks to his wardrobe. I sit on his bed, turned away, and listen to the sound of his clothes rustling as he pulls them on.
He’s still out of it. I can just tell. But that’s alright.
When he’s dressed, we go to the living room and say goodbye to Wilbur, then I go back to Tommy’s room when he says he wants to talk to him in private.
The walls are thin, so I faintly hear my name a few times, and a very distinct, ‘I’m proud of you.’ Then the front door shuts, and Tommy’s door opens, and he climbs into bed with me.
I hold him tight, like he’ll slip away if I don’t. I know he won’t. I know he’s getting help. I know these things, but I don’t know.
I get pulled away when he tucks his face against my neck, and suddenly I’m not so worried. Because I’m here. I’m here, and he’s here, and we’re both okay. Yeah. “Thank you for coming. And cleaning. And just, being here.”
“Of course. I love you so much. I’ll stick around as long as you’ll let me.”
“Well, you’re in for a long ride.”
“Bring it.” He laughs, calling me cringe and playfully pushing away from me. But he doesn’t. I still pretend to ask him to come back, and he pushes even closer. I don’t remember when we fall asleep, but we do, and I dream of nothing. Everything I want will be there when I wake.