The Runaway Boy

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

TOMMY SAT IN the passenger seat of Mason's car on the sunny Sunday afternoon, staring up at the large white house at the end of the houseless street. The home was beautiful, it looked like one of those old southern-American houses. It had a porch that stretched across the whole front of it with white beams segregated through the fence in front. It was two stories, with windows that were divided into four separate panels, A chimney poked out through one of the layers of grey tiled roofing and the small tendrils of smoke billowing through the top.

Tommy wrung his hands out on his lap, wondering why in the hell he said yes to this yesterday. As he stared up at the Hartford family home a belt of jealousy washed over him, he had no home to go back to, and he hadn't for over 10 years. Even if this place was just a house he thought of all the good memories that must've been made in a home like this one, those good memories must've been capable of washing out all the bad. He had never had that, his family home was washed in so much blood that even those good memories he had were tarnished, the scars on his chest could attest to that.

He sighed and glanced over towards Mason who was also looking up at the house, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel. And there is that static again. That feeling that Tommy struggled to grip because this must've been what it felt like to have a crush on someone. He refused to depend on people because of what his family repeatedly abandoning him and breaking him over and over again. But here he was, staring at this guy, and he thought he might do it again, he might give over every broken shard of trust he had left to this person.

He didn't think he had ever felt like this about someone before. Sure, he found people attractive, but he had never felt the bonds of a connection sparking, it was like a cotton thread was tied to his lower rib and connected itself to Mason's, and there Mason was, strumming his finger over it every time he said or did something that made Tommy's heart flutter wildly. He felt ridiculously stupid for it. Getting attached to someone in this way was what he had avoided doing for a very long time. He would end up hurt, and he would hurt the person by leaving or worse, for not leaving.

Logically, Tommy didn't even think Mason would be into him, not with how he was. At best, Mason pitied him, that much was true. For all he knew, he could be walking into this family dinner and meet his girlfriend. Yet, he knew about Tommy's sexuality and still showed him affection (well in his own way,) still held his hand through the night of his breakdown, still let him fall asleep on his shoulder at the beach. Even the night before after getting back to the house - he applied the ointment to his eye and didn't hold back on touching him.

Tommy had been in Winchester for two weeks and had already been through enough to make him run far, far away. He blamed Christian for dredging up his emotions when he had managed to lock them deep down for years. Now he had even convinced himself that he liked this brooding - yet, caring guy who he knew nothing about. Tommy sighed again, this time out of frustration and crossed his arms over his chest. How annoying.

"Why are you glaring at me like that?" Mason exclaimed, looking away from the house and to Tommy.

"I'm not glaring at you," Tommy mumbled back.

"Yes, you are," Mason raises an eyebrow, his lips pressing together into a thin line, an expression that Mason frequently wore, but one Tommy liked seeing. Tommy clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and shook his head in annoyance at himself for that way, his mind was working when it came to Mason and his stupidly handsome face.

"Do you have a girlfriend that comes to this too?" Tommy blurted out, instantly having to divert his gaze to the dashboard, he wondered how hard he'd have to hit his head against it to give him memory loss, and how hard of a hit it would take to cause the airbags to blow.

"You are glaring at me because you think I have a girlfriend?" Mason questions sounding amused which instantly has Tommy rethinking how hard he'd have to headbutt Mason to knock both of them out.

"Don't flatter yourself, I wasn't glaring at you; I was just in deep thought," Tommy tries to explain himself, which just causes Mason to arch his eyebrow further.

"In deep thought on whether I have a girlfriend or not?" Mason teased, a grin appearing on his face. 

Tommy's heart stopped. It was the first time that he'd ever gotten that from him, had ever seen that smirk directed at him... It was the first time he had ever seen it, and he had to press his fingers to his pulse in his wrist just to check if the blood was still flowing through his veins.

"If I had a girlfriend, do you think I would be staying at your place or let the others tease you and me about being a couple?" Mason's words immediately pulled Tommy from his grin induced daze. He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, just a stuttering mess of tumbling words.

"But I - You're...?" Tommy tried to speak, but he just couldn't seem to work out whether that was a confession that he was into guys too or him just admitting that he was single.

"Alright, I'll let you figure that one out for yourself. We better go in, we've been keeping them waiting long enough," Mason said bluntly, a hint of a smile left there on his lips as he opened the door and climbed out of the car.

"I'm so screwed," Tommy mumbled under his breath as he followed.

Tommy followed Mason up the porch stairs and to the front door which was already being held open by a ladybug shaped doorstop. He crossed over the threshold, the rose-infused garden air giving way to the stronger smell of a roast. Tommy melted into it, it had been a long time since he had smelt food so mouthwatering since he had walked into a house and had the smell attack his senses in such a comforting way. The walls of the hallway held photographs of the Hartford children, obviously so loved. The floor was an old-fashioned wooden inlay with a blend of deep homely browns, and the walls were a soft creme meeting a bold white baseboard.

Tommy followed slightly behind Mason as they walked into the kitchen which connected to a large dining and lounge area. Outside the large windows, Tommy could see the others. Christian was at the BBQ with Nicky, both of them laughing at Sasha who was scolding Harry over something as they set up the outdoor table. The soft hum of music played from a small stereo on the kitchen window sill, and Lucy Hartford stood with her back to them, sashaying her way around the kitchen. Tommy instantly felt his throat close up and constrict at the sight, she reminded him so much of how his mother used to move around the kitchen that it hurt.

"Hey, Mom," Mason exclaimed softly as he walked across the room to her. 

She turned around just in time for the quick kiss on the cheek he gave her, her smile was bright and warm, and her mousey blond hair was swept up into a messy bun, the loose tendrils framing her face. Her children's brown hair must've come from their father, but their hazel eyes were definitely from her.

"Go out and help Christian with the BBQ will you," She sighed, brushing her thumb over his cheekbone softly. 

"Tommy, why don't you give me a hand for a bit?" she added as Mason nodded and headed for the back porch.

Tommy sheepishly walked across the lounge and to her side, she handed him a wooden spoon and directed him to the saucepan with the gravy. It didn't go unnoticed that she didn't touch him when she showed him to his place. Instead, she hovered her hand above his arm. Tommy guessed that her children had a part to play in that warning, that he had noticed them do the same, knowing without him even telling them that he doesn't like to be touched.

"It's good to see you again, I'm sorry to hear about the attack," She said as she turned down the radio to a dull hum, her eyes stayed down on the chopping board in front of her as she sliced up some carrots expertly.

"It's nice to see you too, and it's okay, everyone has been helping me," Tommy replied politely, stealing a glance at her as she checked the oven.

"It's not okay, but I am glad that they can be there for you if you'll let them," Lucy exclaimed, leaning over to see how the gravy was looking it as he stirred it with the spoon. It felt like a pointless exercise, but he didn't mind, she reminded him a lot of his mother and where he thought it would upset him, it did the opposite.

"I'm trying," Tommy said back, gazing out the window to the others in the backyard. 

He couldn't help it as his eyes settled on Christian and a pang of guilt hit his heart, all he wanted was that Uncle back that he trusted unconditionally and he was terrified - he was terrified that he'd never be able to have that again.

"He loves you, I remember how you two were when you were younger, how you clung to him," She smiled sweetly, and Tommy dropped the spoon into the gravy, all of his attention turned on her.

"You knew me?" Tommy muttered, and she laughed softly.

"I met you once at a Sinclair and Co. banquet, You must've been 5 years old, and Christian had just turned 18. You were clinging to his leg like glue, wherever he went, you followed, you're mother said it had always been that way with you two," She described, her smile turning sad at the mention of his mother.

Tommy chewed on the inside of his lip and stared down at the gravy as Lucy scooped the spoon out for him. She gave him a few minutes as he stared aimlessly down at the stove element even as she took the gravy away. The coil still burning red, he could smell the burning flesh of his brother holding down the fire poker against his skin - even though it wasn't there. He closed his eyes and forced those memories away, and instead turned his attention back to Lucy, who was now making up the salad.

"Why are you telling me all of this?" Tommy whispered, and when she looked back over at him, he could see the same melancholy in her eyes that Mason sometimes had in his.

"Because Christian has helped my family, Mason most of all... I don't like to see him suffering the way he has been, even long before you came but even so now. I know it's hard to trust him, but I can see you want too, I know Marilyn wouldn't have wanted you to hate him the way you do," Tommy felt as though he couldn't breathe, hearing his mothers name spoken so openly for the first time in years... It sent a bolt of shock through his system that he found hard to control.

"She'd want you to be happy, Tommy," She leaned over and took his trembling hand, squeezing it softly, and he was surprised when he didn't flinch at the touch. A warm tear rolled down his cheek, and he felt it hang against his jaw before dropping off.

"You knew her too?" he said, he thought it was the only thing he really could say.

"Very well," Her voice cracked at that, and he could feel her gaze bearing down on him as he stared at her hand in his, at the gold band that was on her wedding finger and guilt washed over him like a sudden heatwave. 

How could this family, this woman, be so kind after everything that his brother put them through? He wondered if every time they looked at him they saw Jonathan staring right back, he knew that he couldn't face the mirror without seeing it, so how could they bear to have him around?

"You aren't lost anymore, don't you see that?" Lucy brushed away the tear with her thumb, holding his cheek in her hand. Tommy lifted his gaze back to hers and saw how her eyes glassed over and oh, how his heart sunk.

"Then why does it still feel like it?" Tommy choked out, hanging his head, defeated by the mere feeling that he was, in fact, alone.

"We all feel lost when our hearts are broken. I know you are scared of us, but let us help you, let Christian help you."

"Why would you want to help me? After everything my brother has done to you, why?" Tommy stuttered, forcing the words through the lump in his throat. She looked away, and out the window and for a moment, only a brief second, Tommy saw an overwhelming surge of grief wash over her.

"My Husband, this was his tradition to have Sunday dinner together as a family. He was a kind man but was just involved in dangerous work. Your father let us go, but when your father passed away, Jonathan came to tie up loose ends. He took away from my family in a way that will never heal. I think Mason knew from the moment you stepped into the shop that you were a Sinclair, you do look like one, but you aren't like them, you aren't like Jonathan. We all can see that, and it has nothing to do with the marks he left on your body or your mind. Both you and Christian are different, and if my Husband accepted in Christian... He'd accept you too if he was still here. I know you thought that it was because Mason said he wanted to get back at your brother. Still, in reality, when I have seen the way Mason has been keeping an eye on you even when it's just coming with you to pick up the coffees in the morning, and especially since the attack and how he hasn't left your side, I think he truly wants to keep you safe too, as Christian did for him," Tommy could do nothing but listen and soak in her reassurances.

"Christian made a mistake, and trust me when I say that not a day has gone by where I haven't seen him tormented by it. And even though he only ever talked about it with me a couple of times, I knew when he was upset, it was because he didn't know if you were okay. Because even though you were the one to cling to him when you were younger, I saw how he was equally attached to you. So please, go and talk to him," She said, her lips pulling together in a small smile. Tommy wiped his eyes dry on his sleeve and took a deep breath, his eyes wandering back to Christian outside the window.

After the long years of being so alone, the pain ebbed. He thought he would feel the knives in his back forever, the long blades slicing into such sensitive flesh. There were days his brain felt electrocuted, so violently defocused and the pain, the emotional pain, was so all-encompassing he'd simply existed as a matter of will power. He wanted so desperately to find his way back out of the pain that drowned him, he thought he could start with Christian.

"Thank you, I'm sorry that all I did to help was drop the spoon in the gravy," Tommy tried for a smile, which she eagerly accepted, squeezing his hand one last time before letting go.

"Anytime, and I'm sorry for cornering you in the kitchen like this," And with that Tommy let her be, grinning slightly when he heard the stereo turn back up as he walked out onto the porch.

He closed his eyes for a moment and sighed as the afternoon sun bore down onto his skin, it felt as warm and soothing as Lucy's words had, reassurance that he could figure out the mess in his brain. He grabbed at the hem of his hoodie and pulled it up over his head, seething slightly at the pull in his ribs. It'd been a long time since he wore nothing but a t-shirt out in the open for others to see, but here he didn't think he'd have a problem with them seeing the scars on his arms and it wasn't because they had already seen them. He felt high on being comfortable around them. He hung it over the railing of the stairs as he walked down towards Christian and Mason at the BBQ - Mason noticing him first, he clapped Christian on the shoulder and nodded in Tommy's direction before taking his leave and heading towards his siblings.

Christian looked at him as if he expected anger, though there was none to give. He thought that maybe after being so cruel a couple of days ago had him exceeding his limit on how harsh he could be to his Uncle. Though he credited Lucy Hartford for talking more sense to him than anyone had since his mother had been around. He chewed nervously on his bottom lip as he came to stand next to him, he watched the meat sizzling on the BBQ, fidgeting.

"Looks like you learned how to do it yourself now," Tommy spoke first, gesturing lazily to the tongs in his hand and to the BBQ. Christian blinked at him in shock before smiling in a way that made him look guilty for it.

"You remember that, do you?" Christian said as he turned over the steak and sausages.

"How could I forget? You were so adamant on using the BBQ yourself because you said that it 'defeated to the purpose if you just paid some chef to use it, then you ended up burning literally everything," Tommy kept his eyes on the tongs, unable to look up at Christian as a small smirk pulled at his own lips.

"I remember you trying to stomach it because you didn't want me to feel bad."

"It was charcoal at that stage, and it stained my teeth for the rest of the day," Tommy chuckled, the laughing vibrating painfully against his ribs, and he instinctively clutched his side as if that would be enough to hold his broken bones together.

Silence fell over them, and a sizzle of meat on the grill made Tommy flinch slightly and take a hesitant step backward. He hated fire, and he hated the heat of it against his skin from the endless amount of time that Jonathan would press the fire poker deep into his flesh before slicing through the same place with his knives. He looked down at one of the thick and long burns over top of his forearm, years ago it was pink, now it was a bright silver shade over his olive skin.

"I don't want to hate you anymore... I just don't know how to stop," Tommy spoke into the silence, rubbing his hand up and down his arm, touching the ridges of scars that happened after Christian left.

Christian watched him cautiously before taking a step toward him, approaching him as you would a scared animal who was feeling cornered. Tommy allowed his arm to go slack as Christian carefully considered it and looked over the scars. His hand merely resting under Tommy's wrist, not gripping too hard, the touch hardly there and meticulously careful. Tommy not once looked down at his arms; instead, he looked at his Uncles face. He hadn't seen this man in 5 years, he was 32 now, yet the only difference he could find in his appearance was the tiredness in his ocean green eyes, the ones that mirrored Tommy's.

Christian's mousey brown hair was still without greys, unlike how his fathers' was. He had only light creases of age lines at the corners of his eyes and his stubble around his jaw, cheeks, and lips had evened out now. He resembled his father so much, except, at the same time he didn't at all, there was still that softness in his features that made his approachable, whereas his father was the opposite, always holding that fake persona of strength. Christian's lips turned white as he pressed them together, he'd just turned Tommy's arm over so that his forearm was facing up.

Tommy had managed to hide the wrist to elbow scars from him on the first day when he showed the damage his brother had done to him in his absence. He then managed to avoid the questions of said scars after the beating. But the reality of those scars was still imprinted in his brain, haunting his sleep with the vicious nightmares of what Jonathan did to him. It was the moment that his brother truly broke him. The moment when he knew that he would rather die than stay. He could still feel the knife and the warmth of blood across his skin when he woke up from those nightmares - It sometimes made him regret stealing the documents, other times it made him remember why he did.

"I thought I was going to die, I was almost certain of it... I even thought I saw you and Mom. Then I woke up and I was all stitched up, and he was there, he told me he did it because he wanted people to see me and do the thing I hate most - to pity me, to see me as weak as I was..." Tommy shuddered and brought his other arm up into the space between them, finally looking down at the mirroring scars.

"I don't want you to think I blame you for this, because Jonathan made me the way I am, he broke me, not you. I just need you to promise that you won't leave me again, because I won't survive that, if you promise me that then I'll try not to run, I'll try -" before Tommy could even finish his promise Christian pulled him into his arms, and suddenly he was 6 again, covered in his mother's blood, yet he knew he'd be okay because he had Christian to protect him.

"I promise."