𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥 - TMR AU, Thomas

𝟢𝟢𝟫，𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐞

༺ NINE ༻

When I wake up, it's to the smell of food.

Beside that pleasant thing, I'm quite comfortable. There's a blanket wrapped around my body and the surface under me is soft.

Thomas must've brought me home so Mom could lie me down on my bed.

My eyes flutter open as I groan, because I can still feel that I'm a bit tired from yesterday, and I see a TV in front of me.

Alright. I'm in our living room.

My eyes dart around only to realize it was still Thomas's living room.

Ha.

That's cute.

Newt's going to kill someone.

"I already called your family and explained the situation. Didn't want to wake you up so I let you stay here."

I jump at his voice, then land on the floor with a thud.

Good start, Rose.

I hold up my thumb. "I'm okay."

Thomas laughs. He is standing behind the couch, his hair messy and not styled, which it never really is, but he's wearing jeans and a white shirt, so he must've been up for a while already. 

"Good morning to you, too," he greets. "Just on time for scrambled eggs and a toast."

I get up. Look down once the blanket fell off and luckily see that I'm still wearing the same pants and shirt as yesterday. "What time is it? I got ballet and— oh my god, I think the roles are already sent!"

"Calm." He chuckles. "It's eleven. You slept long, but I didn't want to wake you. Still got an hour and a half left."

I sit down at because Thomas scoots the chair aside and rub sleep out of my eyes. "Your parents didn't ask any questions why there's a girl sleeping on their couch?"

"I explained it to them." He lays a toast down on a plate and sprinkles the scrambled eggs from the pan to the toast. "They didn't mind."

I nod, then look around. His house is the same form as ours, but obviously has different decorations. By the fireplace that's left from their couch, I see pictures of a young boy with two adults. The walls are either white or old pink, which matches some of the candles and plants I think his mother put down.

"Here." Thomas scoots the plate over to me. "You'll need it before ballet."

I smile, my cheeks heating up as I push the plate back. "Thank you, really, but I can't... ballet requires eating four hours before."

"Not sure where you heard that, but I'm well aware almost all sports require eating an hour or two hours before. Four hours, and you'll have a lack of energy. Also, you shouldn't eat nothing for six hours long. Dance takes two hours already. Take a snack between. Otherwise, you're starving yourself."

"Do I have to believe that?"

"Yes. It's all facts. I only speak facts, Blondie."

"But I'll be bloate—"

"No one gives a shit." He holds up his hand. Hands me the plate. Crosses his arms and then gives me a look. "Come on. Eat up."

Sighing, I start to eat, but I can no longer feel myself enjoying it after all of this. "I'm not starving myself, you know," I tell him. "Don't say that again."

"I know," he replies softly. "Just keep the old eating patterns. AKA, eat whenever you're hungry."

I nod, slowly. "Thanks, Thomas. I'd almost call you Thomas The Genius."