Thomas Brodie-Sangster Short Stories

Story 2: One Night.

*Based on the music video 30 Minute Break by The Luka State, that Thomas was in!*
As I sit on my couch about to watch television, I hear the apartments' door from down the hall slam with a thud, followed by a set of heavy angry footsteps. I quickly stand up, wondering what all the commotion was about. I mean it could be nothing, but then again, it could most definitely be something. So as any other curious girl would do, I walk over and open my door, stepping out. The moment my feet hit the red carpeted hallway, a boy, may I mention a hot, shirtless boy, walks past me, his face aggravated and angry, yet somewhat sad. Just by that glimpse of him before he hurried his way down the hall, I could notice the bruises and scratches scattered across his chest, with crusted dry blood. Even though I don't know him, I still have that feeling of worry inside me, that maybe I should do something.

"Hey, you alright? You look a little battered." I raise my voice as the boy hurries down the hall. He turns around and stops, meeting my gaze, his facial expression slightly surprised. Probably about the fact that a total stranger like me is concerned about someone she has never met.

"Uh, Yeah. I'm..I'm, fine." He quickly says, obviously not wanting to talk. I notice how his voice carries a thick British accent with every word he spoke.

"You sure? Do you need to go to the hospital or something?" I offer, trying to let him accept some help.

"Hospital? Bloody hell no!" He shouts, obviously still pretty pissed from whatever happened to him.

"I'm sorry, I just though you wanted some help, I heard your apartment door slam." I softly say, offended by that way he yelled at me.

"Look, I'm sorry I snapped at you. I just-" he pauses mid sentence, ruffling his hand through his hair. "Something happened and I just need some alone time for now. Alright? "

"No, not alright. I know you don't know me and probably don't trust me because we just met, and I may not know what happened, but I'm trying to help you. Notice how I'm the only one in this dammed apartment building who even bothered to see what was wrong when I heard your door heavily shut? So please, just accept my help." I shout because apparently, this dude isn't getting the point. Why is this guy acting so stubborn?

"Okay." He mumbles, shoving his hands in his pant pockets.

"I'm sorry, what was that? I couldn't hear you." I mock, putting my hand to my ear in emphasis.

"Okay. I said okay." He says in a deep breath, annoyed.

"Then come with me. By the way, do you have a name? Mine's Skylar."

"Thomas." He says flatly as I lead him to my apartment.

Inside, I have Thomas sit on top of my kitchen counter as I take a damp washcloth, dabbing his wounds. He stays practically silent and still the whole time, but then winced when I lightly touch one of his scratches with the cloth.

"Stings?" I ask as I finish cleaning him up, tossing the cloth into the dirty sink.

"Yup, just a little." He says as he hops off the counter.

"Oh, I forgot to ask, do you want a shirt to wear by any chance? I have one or two that my guy friends accidentally left over if you want one. "I kindly offer.

He raises one eyebrow at what I said, probably thinking the opposite of what I really meant. "Uh, sure. Thanks." He says, sounding a little confused. But what can I say? When one of my guy friends came over, we went swimming at the local community center and he had accidentally left his shirt over and I never got to returning it.