rapture • • TomTord Pastel/Punk AU [considering discontinuing]

• chapter two •

Tom hung up immediately, looking around him to see if he'd been followed, and cut through the park, taking the shortcut to Matt's apartment.

No one else was out at this time of night. If you overlook the distinct lack of stars, it's quite beautiful, though most city kids don't seem to appreciate that. And it's not like adults ever have the time.

Tom wondered, absentmindedly, if someone else thought the night was as lovely as he deemed it himself.

~

Knock knock.

Like Matt had been waiting apprehensively at the door all along, it was opened tou de suite.

Tom looked up at him. Matt shook his head, leaving Tom at the doorway. He was about to step inside after him, one foot hovering above the floor, before he was promptly scolded.

"You'd better wipe those filthy feet outside before even a toe touches my carpet."

And so Tom did. He finally entered the apartment, threw off his jacket and slumped on the sofa. (The chaise longue was reserved for "clean-footed guests", Matt had said.) This sequence of actions had become fairly routine as of late.

The rumble of a kettle from behind indicated that Tom was forgiven, yet would soon receive a rigorous interrogation. He groaned inwardly.

Before he knew it, a steaming cup of black coffee was set on the table in front of him - on a coaster, of course. Matt sat beside Tom, which was a little unusual for him. He'd normally flit about the kitchen whilst he pummelled Tom with constant questions in his sweet, high-pitched voice.

Matt's angular countenance held a look of concern and light pity. "What was it this time, Thomas?"

Only Matt had ever been allowed to address him by his full first name, aside from his parents. Still pisses me off, though.

"Mattieeeee," he whined. Tom wasn't in the mood to face the Spanish Inquisition tonight.

"No, Thomas," Matt stood his ground. Maybe that was the wrong question, he compromised. "Tell me who it was, then."

Tom's change of expression meant Matt was on the right track. "It was Davey," he replied, with some reluctance.

"Oh! Davey! That Davey." Silence. "Erm, which Davey exactly...?"

He was glad Matt couldn't see his eyeroll. This was one of his occasional dense moments. "There's only been one Davey, Matt," he reminded him.

Matt looked a little defeated, therefore Tom had to come to the rescue. He continued, "But I don't blame you for getting confused. He's not particularly memorable."

Forgetting it was still piping hot, he sipped his coffee, his now burnt tongue a harsh reproval for his carelessness. He remembered how he treated Davey and could hardly contain his mischievous grin.

Matt noticed.

"Come on, tell me what happened," he intoned.

"All right, all right," Tom grumbled, smiling anyway. He crossed his legs and turned towards Matt. "Davey invited me over to his today. I couldn't have cared less why, but I didn't have anything to do, so I went." Matt mumbled his disapproval, as not to interrupt. "Long story short, he was all over me; that's when I realised what he wanted. He was beginning to... irritate me. And I... uh... assaulted him three times then slammed the door on him?" Although it came out as a question, his tone more tentative towards the end of his story, Tom was perfectly aware of what he had done.

Really, he didn't regret it in the slightest.

Matt was furious, but worried at the same time. He wasn't quite sure which to go with, considering how difficult Tom was. "And why are you here?"

Tom was brought back his senses. His smile dropped. "No no Mattie, he didn't do anything to me. It was more what I did to him... but he's harmless, honestly. I just - he knows where I live, so I've got to be careful, haven't I?" He attempted a more rueful smile instead.

"Damn right you've got to be careful." The fact that Tom had, for once, taken on his advice had softened him. He'd managed to strike gold as planned: thus, the interrogation was over. "Be thankful I'm the only friend of yours who's willing to take you in after another of your... palavers."

The word sounded a little strange coming from the mouth of someone of Matt's upper-class upbringing. Tom started to giggle until it quickly developed into a rarely heard full-blown melody of laughter. The untrained ear would have thought he were an angel. Obviously, Matt had joined in halfway through.

The two were good friends for one another, always maintaining each other's emotional balance. Sometimes they dressed and acted so similarly that, from a distance, they looked like twins. Other times, they formed the personified Taijitu.

Laying his head on Matt's shoulder, Tom exhaled.

He was safe.

• • •

The figure was never safe.

It lived every day in fear of the people. They demanded things from it, and beat it up because it could never comply. Then they left only to come back the next day and do it all again.

Eventually the figure ran away. But thanks to them, it became less and less human every day.

The it was always a he, but the figure hadn't felt like one in such a long time that he may as well have not been a he at all.

Although every fibre of his being knew he had to leave the dark someday, he didn't know how.