Work Text:
1995
The clock on Jonny’s living room wall ticks incessantly, creating an inescapable backdrop of noise that’s nauseating in its consistency. It irks Thom on the best of days, but now it’s downright unbearable, the noise seeming to mock him like every other aspect of this sorry situation. Yet it’s not enough to distract him from the pounding of his heart, nor the hurt gripping his chest like a vice.
He and Jonny stare each other down, the tense atmosphere between them largely Thom’s contribution. Jonny’s eyes are wide and desperate, and Thom can see just how badly he wants his approval. It almost makes him feel guilty — in another world, maybe he’d have given it to him.
But not this one.
“It just seems a little… hasty,” Thom finally sighs. “I think it would do you good to really think this through some more. Both of you.”
Jonny nods. “We have thought it through. We’re thinking of having the ceremony at this really pretty venue in Safed, near where she grew up. We’re not in a rush and obviously we want you all to come, so we can book it whenever’s easiest for you to fly out. It’ll be like a vacation—“
“No, I mean…” Thom pinches the bridge of his nose and shuts his eyes. The thought of having to sit and watch Jonny in some expensive suit, smiling and exchanging vows and falling even more in love with someone else on a picturesque little Israeli terrace makes him want to rip his hair out. “You’ve known her for what, two years? You barely even get to see her. Don’t you think that could be an issue?”
Jonny seems genuinely confused by that. Of course he does. “How so? I call her almost every day. Besides, two years is more than enough time for me to decide I want to marry her.” Thom flinches at the word marry, each utterance cementing it deeper into his reality. Hammering the ugly point in.
Jonny is getting married. Jonny is going to be with someone else forever. It’s too late for you, Thom. Too fucking late.
“ I’m not sure two years is even enough time to fall in love properly,” Thom mutters. He‘s lying through his teeth, of course — something he does quite often when it comes to Jonny and feelings. Jonny looks profoundly hurt by this, so he backtracks, trying at least to choose his words carefully as he churns out more bullshit excuses.
“Look, Jon, you’re just… so young. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you, and—and so many people to meet.” People like me. I’m right here, Jonny. Why can’t you see me?
Jonny narrows his eyes and holds up a hand. “Wait, I’m sorry. ‘So many people to meet’? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It’s just—“
“What, so you’d prefer I just sleep around with random women until I’m forty and then find someone else to settle down with? You think that would be better?” His tone is hostile now, and Thom cringes, blanking on a response. So much for choosing his words carefully.
“I can make my own decisions,” Jonny continues. “I know you love treating me like I’m a kid, but I’m not. I’ve lived ten fucking lifetimes in the past two years, just like you, and if I want to marry the woman I love more than anything in this world then I’m within my right to do so.”
More than anything in this world. Jonny’s words are like a bullet through Thom’s heart, and he’s overcome with a wave of envy and betrayal stronger than any he thought humanly possible. It knocks the wind out of him, weighs him down with the pressure of a thousand stone, strobes furiously in his ears, and finally gives way to anger.
“If you don’t want to be treated like a child, then stop fucking acting like one,” Thom snaps. “I’m not going to lie and tell you this is a good idea. It’s impulsive.“
Jonny blanches, clearly taken aback by the disproportionate hostility, and Thom’s sureness falters. He’s always swayed so easily by those big brown eyes.
“I know why you’re saying all this, you know,” Jonny hisses after a long pause. “You don’t like her. You never have.”
Yeah, no shit I don’t like her. She’s the reason I never even got a chance.
“I never said that. She’s fine.”
“Come on, Thom, you don’t even try to hide it. A few months ago when you were drunk, you told me to leave her. You called her a cunt. Do you even remember?”
“I—I barely fucking know her, Jon! She lives on another continent!” Thom’s voice raises in pitch, desperate and defensive. “You’re impossible, you know that?” he groans, burying his face in his hands.
Jonny’s eyes are colder now, his brow furrowed hard — Thom always forgets how scary he can look when he’s angry. “Why can’t you just be happy for me for once? I’ve supported you every day, even when you’ve acted like a complete idiot. Even when—even when it completely drains me.” His voice breaks. He sounds devastated.
Thom tastes guilt on his tongue, but he doesn’t back down. “I do support you! It’s the reason I’m saying any of this ! I’m trying to look out for you before you do something you regret!” It’s half the truth, at least. He takes a deep breath. “Jon, I’m telling you all this because I l—“
He catches himself before he says it and stops short. Three words that want out so badly. They claw at his voice box, begging for an escape as they have for years, but Thom pushes them down, down, down. The resulting pain is unbearable. He freezes up, a lump forming in his throat; Jonny’s angered expression turns to one of confusion, then concern.
“Thom? What did you say?”
I love you. I love you. I love you.
“…Nothing. It’s getting late. I’m going home.”
“Wait, Thom, I’m sorry. Why don’t we—“
“Goodnight, Jonny. I hope it all works out for you.”
Thom grabs his jacket from a hook on the wall and slinks out the front door, shutting it behind him harder than intended. He needs to get far, far away from Jonny. He wishes he could get away from his own feelings, too, but they’re tethered to him like a chain digging into his ankle. He’s tried to cut them loose in the past, and failed each time.
As he wanders aimlessly down the street, he shuffles through his memories of Jonny with his girlfriend — fiancée now, he reminds himself bitterly. He could never stand the way he looked at her, with eyes so warm and vulnerable and full of love. It always made Thom want to throw himself in front of her, forcing Jonny to look at him like that just for a second. Why can’t that love be for him? What had that woman been able to do in a matter of days that Thom couldn’t over the course of years?
He’s never felt so alone.
A fuzzy spell of nausea washes over him, so strong that he stops walking, sure he’s about to vomit all over the pavement. He doesn’t. He continues walking and absentmindedly kicks a pebble, watches it bounce once, twice, three times, then disappear down a storm drain. He looks between the metal slats, but it’s too dark to see anything.
Jonny is happy, he thinks to himself. What matters is that Jonny is happy.
His eyes well up with tears.
Maybe I can learn to be happy for him someday, too. It’ll hurt like hell but it’s the right thing to do. I’ll never have to lie to him again.
He lets out a choked sob. A single tear rolls down his cheek.
Being dishonest with Jonny is one thing, but how will he learn to lie to himself?