Sin For Me (bxb)

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Damian

When I entered the common room, I expected to see the same scene I had gotten so carelessly used to.

But instead, the room was quiet, calm, and more than a little... hopeless. I scanned the room for a smile, someone laughing, anything to make it seem like what I had done was not as big of a deal as I wanted to believe.

But it was, and they were suffering in it.

Jack saw me first, his eyes widening a bit before a small smile quirked at the corners of his lips. Then the others followed suit, approaching me like a feral cat.

I put on my best look of amusement and waved my cast at them, "Where's my welcome party?"

Thomas wasn't among them.

"How's your hands?" Jack asked carefully, his voice wavering between alarm and comfort.

I flexed my fingers as much as they would go within their braces, "A bit inconvenient, to say the least,"

Hanson reached into a bag of markers and joined by my side, reaching his hand out expectantly. I gave him my arm and smiled as he wrote his name in big letters across my wrist.

Over the course of twenty or so minutes, my cast was decorated with each name. Some only wrote a small loopy scrawl, others made graffiti like designs with multiple colors, and Adam only drew an A with smiley faces and stars around it.

They left one space blank without me needing to say too. My inner wrist, right where the vein pulsed below.

"Where's Tom?"

The room had gotten a bit louder and less tense, at least. Smiles were back on faces, toys being tossed around. It was simple and easy and the way it was supposed to be before I fucked it up.

"Right there," Hanson murmured, pointing at the lounge chair in the corner.

Curled up and asleep, with a worried furrow of his brow, Thomas laid unaware of anything going on around him. Dark circles crested under each eye, a testament to my fuck up.

I crossed the room, the others watching with knowing eyes as I reached Thomas's side.

Underneath me, breathing shallow breaths through parted lips, Thomas darkened under my shadow. I placed a hand on his shoulder and nudged gently.

His eyes opened one at a time, blinking as the adjusted to the light before settling on me.

"Damian," he said, half greeting, half a question.

I stifled the urge to brush the loose locks of hair out of his face and simply nodded, "Just got back,"

"Okay,"

"...okay,"

We exchanged the word that felt no better than a slap to the face.

Is Thomas boring?

The question Mother Katherine asked me hung between us.

No... Thomas is everything but boring.

That much I knew, that much... that much I knew so well I couldn't come up with another answer. No one had ever done the fucking mental gymnastics he did to both hurt and love me at the same time. We always ended up here though, awkward, detached, uncomfortable , and more than a little scared.

Scared of what? That this could end? That I could lose him? Could... could I lose him after all of it?

The way he looked at me in that moment... yeah. I could still lose him.

Because he was scowling at me, and you don't scowl at the person you love after they get back from the hospital. You dont choose to hurt them, to drag them around waiting for you to come closer only to push them away.

No... we aren't boring. And we're not in love.