BBC Ghosts: Teatime Club

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Pat dowsed Thomas' wrists with water as Julian propped him up against the sink cabinet, watching as the shorter teen flapped over the poet.

After Thomas decided to pass out on them, a panicking Pat had ordered Julian to carry Thomas into the nearest toilets so he could give his friend some water. To his shock, however, he found there were ribbons of blood dribbling down Thomas' wrists.

Thomas had been... hurting himself?

Pat haphazardly wrapped long rolls of toilet paper around the poet's arms to stop the bleeding and gave Thomas an extremely concerned look. He had no idea Thomas had been feeling this upset to do something like this and felt it was his fault for not checking up on the poet more often.

Julian held his hands in his pockets. "So, we gonna address the elephant in the room?"

Thomas shot him a sour look that soon fizzled out. "I suppose you're wondering about... these." he delicately picked up his wrists.

"Did cross my mind, yeah." Julian replied insensitively, causing Pat to shoot him a warning glare.

"They... hate me."

"W-Who hates you?" Pat held a supportive hand on his shoulder.

"My... parents."

Julian sniffed obnoxiously. "Join the club."

Now it was Pat and Thomas' turn to shoot worried looks at Julian. Not expecting their response, the taller boy straightened his tie and looked away from them. "Um, so, self-harm?"

"What of it?" Thomas replied slowly.

"You're... hurting yourself because of them?" Pat asked with much sadness lurking in his voice.

"It helps me cope." Thomas shrugged it off. "I don't do it much, I just do it when they to a little overboard. Calling me a completely useless piece of- I don't even want to repeat that word- made me want to... well, you know."

"You do realize you're not a useless piece of... you know." Julian started, trying to play it cool.

Thomas turned to him. "What?"

Julian closed his eyes as he fiddled with his tie. "Well, your parents obviously suck and are liars."

"They said I'm untalented..." Thomas hung his head.

"Untalented?" came Pat's vocal explosion from beside him, "Thomas, you're super talented! The way you write, t-the way you work! You're amazing!"

"Tell that to mother and father." Thomas folded his arms before unfolding them as his wrists started to sting. "When they heard about my falling grades-"

"Falling grades?"

"Yes, and they blamed YOU for that." he hissed at Pat, who stepped back. "You're supposed to be helping me boost them with your little club, yet here I am still failing!"

Julian frowned and placed a firm hand on Thomas' shoulder. "Hey, it's not Pat's fault that your grades are slipping. You're responsible for your own actions. His teaching has already helped me boost my own grades so there must be something else." Julian defended a starstruck Pat.

"I may or may not daydream a little in class, although I doubt that has anything to do with it..." Thomas admitted. He turned to Pat. "I'm sorry, Patrick. You are a good teacher. This is all my fault."

Thomas' eyes widened in surprise when Pat threw his arms around his midriff. He shot an awkward look at Julian who just shrugged. Thomas felt his face heat up and patted Pat's back.

Pat pulled away with a small smile. "You're amazing, Thomas. Please don't think otherwise. Ignore your parents. Just think about what you can do to prove them wrong when they don't believe in you."

Thomas had a funny feeling that Pat was speaking from experience. "Thank you, Patrick."

"And please don't... hurt yourself. If you're feeling this way, talk to one of us. Talk to me. Talk to Julian. Just talk to someone." the shorter boy practically begged.

Thomas' eyes softened. He smiled. "From now on, I'll do that, Pat."

Pat beamed and couldn't help but hug him again. He pulled himself off the poet and rubbed the back of his head nervously. "S-Sorry I keep doing that."

Julian raised an eyebrow.

"H-How are your wrists now?"

"Sore."

"Are you okay enough to join the club?"

"What lesson have we got today?"

"History."

"I suppose." Thomas slid off the sink and rolled down his sleeves.

"And I suppose you won't want us to tell any of the others about your little escapade, hm?" Julian asked.

"You can tell them, about it and about me. Providing they swear in confidence not to tell anyone outside of our group."

"The Six Idiots?" Julian laughed.

"There's nine of us." Pat corrected.

"The Nine Morons then."

Pat rolled his eyes and held the door open for the others.

~~~~~

Today the clubbies were being good students and actually getting on with their work as asked, but Pat put it down to everyone being too emotionally worn down. Had Parents Evening had this effect on all of them too?

Pat watched them from the front of the class, waiting around in case any of them needed assistance. His eyes passed from student to student to notice any facial tics indicating they were struggling.

There was a knock at the door. Not expecting anyone since the school was practically empty at this point, Pat opened the door to find three of his least favourite people. Pat winced as he was shoved back into the middle of the room as the three boys waltzed on in, taking in the hardworking group with a smirk.

"Mrs Cooper said you'd be in here. What the fuck are you doing?"

"We're doing extra study." Cap replied.

"Bunch of saddos." the leader rolled his eyes. "No wonder I couldn't find porky after school, being held up in here, like."

"Can you piss off? We're trying to work." Julian snapped, having enough of his old friends' shit. They were toxic and he knew it.

"Never thought I'd hear you say that, Fawcett."

"Times change."

"Clearly."

Julian glared at the boys. "Get out."

"Fine, I'll leave you alone with these bunch of losers." he glared at Pat. "And I do mean losers."

The boys retreated and Pat quickly shut the door.

"Cretins." Fanny rolled her eyes.

"Tell me about it. Those three never know when to shut up."

Pat just stared at the door, trying to shake himself out of his frightened state. He always figured this room was safe from them, but now he wasn't so sure.

"Pat?"

Pat visibly jumped as Mary called him. "I-I'm sorry, Mary. Did you want something?"

Humphrey raised an eyebrow at Pat's reaction. Looking around to see if anyone else had picked up on how jumpy he was, Humphrey held his chin in his hand in thought.

What was going on with Pat?