Good Enough (Cutting Deeper)
A short story based around Thomas from the main story.
Good Enough--Cutting Deeper
Wednesday
The shower was relaxing, especially after such a hard practice. His muscles ached and throbbed painfully beneath his fur, and Thomas Martan couldn't help but wonder if just maybe he had overdone it today.
But he couldn't help himself; he enjoyed what he did and did what he loved. And with the first game of the season just a few days away, Thomas knew he wanted to be at his best, even if it meant that he was the last one to leave--like today. The locker room was empty and Coach Nun was waiting for him to leave...
Well, maybe not so empty...
"Nice job today," remarked a playful, energetic voice and Thomas looked over. Walking into the showers was the familiar white rabbit, Oswald "Ozzy" Fuller, taking his usual prideful stride forward. "So, big kitty, you think you're ready for the big game?"
The innuendo was not lost on Thomas. "Always ready to win. You going to reward me when we win?"
Ozzy was now under the same spray of water, reaching up to touch Thomas's chest. "Don't I always?" he answered coyly. "Maybe I ought to reward you now for practicing so hard..." His touch started to drift lower and Thomas hurriedly pulled him closer in a quick kiss. When they pulled back, Ozzy chuckled. "Impatient, aren't you?"
"You're one to talk. We're in the school shower--Coach hasn't left yet," Thomas replied, giving him another, deeper kiss as he felt Ozzy's touch drift lower. "Do you want to get caught?"
"Doesn't it make it more fun to take risks, kitten?"
Thomas couldn't deny how much he wanted it too, especially when he heard Ozzy call him 'kitten' in such a tone. It was a term of endearment that belonged to the rabbit alone, one that only the two of them ever heard. Ozzy nipped at his neck and--
"TOMMY!" called another, intruding voice.
Immediately, Ozzy broke away, and moved towards another shower. Thomas cleared his throat before calling back.
"Yeah?! Who is it?!"
"Theo!" the voice called back and Thomas mentally cursed his luck. Of course Theodore would've come looking for him after having to wait so long after school had ended. "Are you almost dressed? I want to go home!"
"Yeah, just wait outside, Theo!" Thomas yelled back. "Be out in a minute!"
They were quiet and Thomas was relieved to hear the sound of the locker room door close as Theo walked out. He exhaled sharply and turned to adjust the water over him to a much colder temperature. Ozzy walked back over, arms crossed.
"You know, if you'd just tell him--"
"Don't start," Thomas interrupted. "You know I can't do that."
"Great... Another night of jacking off because you're too scared to come out," Ozzy scoffed.
"I'm not gay," Thomas retorted.
"Right, because getting off to someone of the same gender isn't called 'being gay'," Ozzy answered sarcastically. Then, tapering his temper, Ozzy continued, "Eventually, someone's going to find out."
"You'd better keep your mouth shut!" Thomas warned.
"I'd be in just as much hot water as you," Ozzy remarked. "I don't care if you want to call us fuck buddies, friends with benefits or whatever! But this blue ball shit is annoying."
Thomas sighed heavily. "Look, we shouldn't even be doing this... whatever you call it. So for now, just drop it. I promise I'll make it up to you however you want to." He winked and Ozzy chuckled.
"Then that means I get you before and after the game," Ozzy answered. "You just can't be too rough before we go on the field."
"Why? I thought my little bunny liked it rough?"
"Took you long enough," Theodore Martan huffed as he watched his elder brother walk out into the parking lot. "Practice ended nearly an hour ago!"
Thomas snorted indignantly. "Hey, I need to be in top shape, Theo. You don't have to wait. You can always ride the bus home." He unlocked his car and tossed his backpack into the backseat. "Besides, I was busy."
"Jacking off in the locker room?" Theodore jabbed.
Thomas tensed as he got into the front seat, Theodore getting into the passenger side. But he quickly realized that Theodore had meant it solely as a joke and relaxed. No, he doesn't know, but he had almost stumbled upon it... Need to be more careful, Thomas thought bleakly. But that bunny's just too damn cute...
"Dude, that's not funny," Thomas said aloud. "Besides, why're you so intent on waiting for me? It's not like the bus is an impossible option."
"No, but I'd rather wait for you. It's quieter, and more relaxing. And you love your baby brother enough to buy him a lemon soda," he added eagerly. Thomas glanced over at his brother with an analytical gaze, trying his hardest to swallow the disgust in his throat.
"How can you stomach that crap? It's so freaking sour..."
"Is that a no?"
"I ought to say no, but I'm in a good mood," Thomas explained. "You're lucky."
"No, you just can't say no to me," Theodore replied happily.
"Put your seatbelt on," Thomas scoffed, smiling despite himself.
"And if I say no?"
Thomas put as much pressure on the break as he could, chortling as Theodore tried to keep himself from falling into dashboard. Theodore quickly regained his composure and buckled his seatbelt, arms crossed and scowling at Thomas's laughter.
"That's what happens when you don't respect your elders."
For the first time in a long time, dinner at the Martan household was quiet, solemn. Thomas had barely spoken two words to either Theodore or his mother, Mary, as they ate and he found his eyes drifting towards the empty chair that was on all of their minds. Once more, Henry Martan was absent, undoubtedly bogged down with the work of a police detective, leaving his family to worry.
After two minutes of tense, thick silence, Theodore finally spoke.
"So, what's the case this time?" he inquired.
The question had been on Thomas's mind as well, though he had quickly learned that it was pointless to ask. Mary's head lifted slightly as she met her sons' gazes but she quickly looked away.
"He's not allowed to discuss the details of the case with me," she said. "You know that."
"Do you know where he went?"
"He'll be back before you know it," Mary assured her son. "So don't worry. But how was school, Theo, Tommy? You two came home awfully late. Is everything okay?"
"Tommy just wanted to waste time after practice," Theodore answered, feigning bitterness. "But he bought me this, so we're even." He pointed towards the half-empty bottle of yellow soda with a grin. Mary frowned.
"You and your father," she said with a small laugh. "I don't know how you two do drink it."
"It's an acquired taste," Theodore said in such a way and tone that it was a near-perfect mimicry of his father.
"I hope I never acquire it," Thomas jibed. "So, you're coming to the homecoming game, right, Ma?"
"Of course," she assured him. "Wouldn't miss it for the world, Tommy."
"Will Dad be there too?"
"Naturally. Has he ever missed one of your games?" she continued. The mood had lightened considerably and she was grinning widely, though Thomas noticed that her eyes had drifted once more to her husband's vacant chair. "We'll both be there. You just focus on winning."
"Do I ever lose?"
"Yes," Theodore said quickly. He cringed as Thomas tossed a meatball at his face. "Mom, Tommy's picking on me!" he said in a forced, whiny voice.
"I know," Mary said. "That's why he's going to be washing the dishes tonight _and_tomorrow."
Theodore turned back to Thomas and stuck his tongue out.
"And for that, you'll be losing your TV for the rest of the night," Mary added.
"But--" Theodore started, but he rapidly silenced himself with a dark gaze from his mother. Thomas would've laughed, but he kept himself quiet. There was no reason to do anything to provoke a punishment.
"Tommy? Thomas, you awake?"
Thomas groaned, but kept his eyes closed. "I am now... Go back to sleep, Theo."
Theodore paused before speaking. "You think Dad's okay?"
That got Thomas's attention and his eyes opened. The bedroom they shared was still dark, and he couldn't see Theodore on the top bunk above his bed but he could hear the bed's noise as Theodore shifted above him. A few seconds later, Theodore was climbing down and seating himself at the foot of Thomas's bunk.
"What's bugging you? Nightmares?" Thomas inquired.
"I suppose... It's just... Why does he always have to stay out so late? I know he's a cop and all and he has to but... why can't they send out someone else to do it?" Theodore asked and Thomas could hear the fear in his voice.
"He'll be fine, Teddy," Thomas assured him. "Really. He's too stubborn to die and too bullheaded to quit. He'll be back before you know it. For all we know, he's just staking out some seedy club or something. Might not even be dangerous."
"But what if--?"
"Don't think about that," Thomas said. "For now, just try to relax. I don't like seeing you worry."
"I can't help it... I don't want to lose him... or anyone. It's just... I don't know... scary."
"Trust me, the world's a scary place and I've only seen a bit of it," Thomas said. "But you remember when I broke my arm a few years back and you thought they'd have to amputate it?"
"Yeah, but they didn't. What's that got to do with...?"
"My point is that you worry about the worst possible ideas when the worst doesn't always happen," Thomas continued. "It's the same idea. You're worried about something happening to him, but this isn't the first time that he's had to work at night and this isn't the first criminal he's had to stake out. You need to trust that he'll be back."
"Do you?"
The question resonated in Thomas's head and he thought for a moment. The honest answer was no and if he was truthful with himself, he was just as worried as his brother. It was all too easy to imagine a scenario where his father would be killed, go missing or be tortured or--
"Yes," Thomas said. "I have to so that I know he'll be back."
"Thanks, Tommy, for listening," Theodore said after a brief moment of silence.
"... Are you going to be able to go back to sleep?" Thomas wondered.
"Can I...? Just for tonight...?"
"Can you what?"
"Nothing, it's a stupid question," Theodore said and Thomas felt his weight disappear from the foot of his bed. "I'll just--"
"Were you going to ask if you could sleep on my bunk tonight? Like when we were younger?"
"How'd you know?"
"Because you always do when you're scared," Thomas answered sternly. "Theo, you're too old for that. You're a freshman in high school. You need to start acting like it. I can't keep babying you all day and night. Theo, I do love you dearly. You're my baby brother and I want to keep you happy and safe. But you have to grow up."
"Y-yeah," Theodore replied weakly. "I know."
Thomas heard the bunk bed creak as his brother climbed back up onto the top bunk. Swallowing the strange guilt that went through him, he spoke again.
"Hey, Theo, how're you liking high school?"
"What?"
"How're you liking high school?" Thomas repeated.
"It's okay," Theodore replied. "Like middle school only bigger. Although, I owe you for trying to scare me about the freshman hunt."
Thomas laughed, hearing a lighter tone in Theodore's voice. "I had to. It's funny to watch you panic."
"You're an ass."
"You're a midget."
"You're stupid!"
"You're childish."
A sudden pounding on the closed door made them both jump in surprise. "You're both going to be in trouble if you don't go to sleep!"
They couldn't help but laugh at the annoyed shout of their mother, laughing louder when they heard the bedroom door close.
"Get some sleep, Theo," Thomas said. "We've got school in the morning."
Thursday
"So, you don't know when he'll be back home?" Ozzy wondered as he walked beside Thomas between classes.
"No, we didn't even know when he got a new case," Thomas answered. "He never tells us everything, but he normally would say when he had a new case and or some new lead to follow. Honestly, I don't know what to say." They came to a stop at Ozzy's locker and Thomas leaned against the wall. "I don't even know if he's okay or anything."
"And I take it that Theo's not taking this too well either," Ozzy said.
"No. He's kind of a wreck. Not seeing Dad at breakfast almost made him cry."
"That bites," Ozzy noted. "Think he'll be okay?"
"Dad'll be back before long," Thomas insisted. "At the very least, he'll be back for the homecoming game. He never misses any of my games. Which reminds me"--he leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a husky, lustful tone--"do I still get my reward if we win?"
Ozzy shivered at the sound. "I think I might not want to wait to see if you win."
Thomas chortled. "You're a nymphomaniac, you know."
"I can't help it with you breathing down my neck like that," Ozzy scoffed. "I'm going to be horny all through my next class because of you." Then, smugly, he said, "That's a big word for you. 'Nymphomaniac'. Whatever happened to needing to take it down a notch?"
"I don't care as long as we don't get caught."
"We wouldn't have yesterday if you weren't such a--"
"Don't say it, Oswald," Thomas warned. "That joke got old after the third time."
"Don't say what?" Ozzy asked playfully.
"You know what."
"No, I don't, kitten."
"That damned 'scaredy-cat' line," Thomas growled. "It's more annoying than anything else you do." He thought for a moment. "Almost anything else you do."
"I'm not that annoying."
Thomas grinned, but the bell cut off his retort. Playfully jostling the fur on Ozzy's head, he turned to walk away towards his next class.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should've done something, but even as he watched Theodore's bullies jostle him from his position in line, Thomas couldn't help but wonder what exactly was keeping his brother from fighting his own battles. Perhaps he had spoiled Theodore when he was younger, always taking the punches thrown at him. Or maybe Theodore needed this bit of abuse (he cringed at the thought) to make him stronger, able to stand in the world alone when the time came.
But even still...
"You're just going to let them get away with beating up your kid brother like that?"
Thomas looked up at the feminine voice. One of the cheerleaders, a lanky tigress named Eleanor, seated herself at the table, arms crossed as she glared at him.
"He needs to fight his own battles," Thomas replied. "He'll learn eventually."
"But you're still his brother," she added crossly. "If I can stick up for my sister, you can stick up for your brother."
"Your sister's barely walking!"
"That's not the point," she snapped. "It's not fair to let someone do that. At least go see if he's okay."
"He's fine," Thomas said confidently. "He can take a punch."
"Then why is he crying?"
Thomas looked closer. Theodore, he noticed, hadn't gotten back into the lunch line but had gone to an empty table without food. He was too far away to see any tears, but Thomas could see the movement of his shoulders, see him wiping his eyes.
"Damn it," he grumbled, standing up quickly. Within seconds, he was at his brother's table, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and walking him into the hallway. He walked him into the bathroom and let out a heavy sigh as he released his brother's shirt. He could hear the choked sobs Theodore was letting out, he had felt his brother's trembling...
"Why'd you do that?" Theodore griped, his voice wavering.
"Fix your face," Thomas ordered. "You're a mess."
"I'm fine!" Theodore replied, though the weakness in his voice betrayed any strength the statement might've had. He attempted to walk out, but Thomas blocked his path, arms crossed as they glared into each other's eyes.
"I hate you," Theodore said, relenting as he walked towards the mirror. He looked at his puffy eyes and let out a shaky breath. "Why'd you--?"
"Because you were crying and the last thing either of us needs is for the school to know how much of a wimp you are," Thomas stated bluntly. "I've got a reputation, you know."
"That's all you damn jocks ever think about, isn't it? Reputation," Theodore said, and his biting tone was not lost to Thomas.
"No, it's not--"
"Right, reputation and tail," Theodore corrected. "Better?"
Ignoring the odd mixture of irritation at Theodore's tone and relief at his returning strength, Thomas said in a voice of forced calm, "You need to stand up for yourself."
"I'm fine."
"Bullshit. I watched them kick you out of line. Who are those bastards anyway?"
"None of your business!"
"I'm making it my business! No one fucks with my brother!"
"I don't need your protection!"
Somehow, Theodore's voice had matched Thomas's in volume and Thomas could scarcely believe it. He couldn't recall a time when they had argued at this level, where Theodore would actually shout back at him in anger. But he quickly regained his senses and forced himself to take a deep, calming breath.
"Please, Teddy," Theodore said. "I don't want to argue and I don't want to fight. I just want to talk." Theodore rolled his eyes angrily and once more started to leave, but Thomas again stepped in his way. "I'm not doing talking, asshole."
"Well, I've finished listening!"
Theodore made his move, trying to push Thomas out of the way, but Thomas caught his arm, then the other, and felt something odd... Theodore's arm was wet... Why was his arm wet? Thomas's eyes scanned the long sleeves of his brother's hoodie, scowling at the dark red splotches that appeared in the green fabric. Theodore attempted to wrench his arms free but Thomas held fast, sliding the sleeve down.
"Did they pull a knife on you?!" Thomas gasped, feeling sick. "You let them...?! Why didn't you--?!"
"It's not what you think," Theodore snarled, finally freeing his arm.
"Then tell me! What the fuck happened?!"
"You wouldn't understand! You're Mr. Perfect, Mr. Popular..." Theodore snorted indignantly. "I'm amazed you get off your throne to worry about me."
"The fuck does that mean?! Of course I worry about you! How could I not?!"
"Then where were you when I was getting pushed around, got my money stolen--"
"Had I known it was that bad, I would've done something! I never stopped worrying about you! You're my baby brother! What makes you think I don't care?!"
"You let them bully me! It's been going on since the year started!"
Thomas swallowed thickly and watched Theodore walk over to the sink to rinse the open cut. Steady realization started to work through his mind as he watched his brother's blood wash down the drain and disappear.
"So instead of saying something to me, you just let it happen? You don't tell me, you don't tell your teachers, you don't tell--"
"I'm not going to go crying just because people are assholes," Theodore answered. He grabbed a paper towel and started to dry his arm. "I can handle myself."
"And you do that by cutting yourself?"
Theodore's breath hitched--he was about to cry again. Without thinking, Thomas crossed over to him, pulling him into a hug. When was the last time I hugged him?_Thomas wondered. _When was the last time I actually told him I loved him? He could feel Theodore shaking... but Thomas was shaking too. How had this slipped by him? How could he have allowed this to go on in his own family, to his own brother, and not done anything?
"I'm so sorry, Teddy," he said in a strangled voice. "Please, I need you to trust me again. I don't want you hurt..."
Theodore swallowed. "I'm not weak. I want to be strong."
He said that before, Thomas realized. But that's why I got strong. So he wouldn't have to be.
"It's not weak to ask for help," Thomas said after a few brief moments. "I'm here for you, whenever you need me. Please, I don't want you to be bullied or cutting yourself." Theodore nodded, but kept silent. "Listen, tomorrow, I'll fix this. I'll be there for you like I should've been."
He pulled back and looked his brother in the eyes. For the first time, he appreciated how green Theodore's eyes were, just like their mother's. He hadn't inherited their father's golden eyes (or one of them like Thomas had). His eyes seemed pure, a perfect color that seemed to fit the zest for life, the energy, he normally had. The façade that he normally hid behind.
"Aw," crooned a voice and they both looked over. One of the football players had come in. "That's so sweet! Real hallmark moment."
"Fuck off, Mark," Thomas snapped.
"Hey, I was just told by Eleanor to come find you," Mark answered. "You walked off and didn't come back. She wanted to know if you and the pipsqueak were okay."
"One, we're fine. Two, don't call him 'pipsqueak'. That's my exclusive right as his brother."
"Whatever, I don't care," Mark scoffed. "She's waiting for you back in the cafeteria or are you going to stay in here and keep having a moment?"
"Kind of hard to have a moment after you barged in like that," Thomas scoffed. Mark laughed as he exited and Thomas shook his head. "Moron."
Theodore chuckled. "He's your friend."
"That's being overly nice," Thomas answered. He turned back to Theodore. "What're you going to do?"
"About?"
Thomas's eyes narrowed.
"I think I'll just go to the library," Theodore answered. "Do some studying."
"... Not what I meant, but okay. We'll talk later, this conversation isn't over."
Theodore nodded. "Yes, sir."
"And don't call me 'sir'."
Thomas started to walk away but stopped when Theodore tapped his shoulder. He turned back and saw Theodore reach into his pocket, withdrawing something small and silver. Thomas took the razor, eyes narrowing as he pocketed it.
"Is this the only one?"
Theodore looked away and Thomas reached out.
"Give."
"It's at home."
Thomas exhaled. "You know I ought to tell Mom and Dad about this."
"No! Please! They'll think I need therapy!"
"Maybe you do! Healthy people don't do this kind of stuff!" Thomas raged. "But I'm keeping secrets from them too. I can't exactly fault you for wanting to keep stuff quiet. So, here's the deal. You'll hand over the other razor and I won't tell them. But if I see anything tat makes me believe you've started again, I'll tell them."
"Isn't that blackmail?"
"No, it's me trying to help you," Thomas answered.
"This secret of yours wouldn't happen to involve Ozzy, would it?" Theodore ventured with a smug expression.
Thomas stiffened. "We're not dealing with my problems, we're dealing with yours! And no, it doesn't!"
"Okay, fine! I'm going to the library." The bell rang at that moment and they jumped in surprise. "Actually, I'm going to bio. But just for the record, your gold eye twitches when you lie."
"Tommy? Are you still mad at me?" Theodore asked as they drove away from the school. The silence had been more than uncomfortable--it was unbearable. Thomas had barely said much since their confrontation earlier that day and Thomas's face had become stern since then, something quite unlike the older panther.
"I'm not mad," Thomas said, his voice monotone and flat. "Just concerned."
"Where are we going?" Theodore asked, noticing they had drove past their usual turn.
"Somewhere we can talk," Thomas answered, "without being overheard. Unless you want Mom to hear this conversation."
Theodore shook his head. After stopping for a few drinks (Thomas cringed at the lemon soda Theodore had gotten), they drove up towards a park. Theodore looked in surprise at the sign as they pulled into the park--WishPark. He remembered this place, where they had always played when they were younger, where they had spent countless hours simply enjoying the summers or the winter's snowfalls. Thomas parked and let out a sigh. He reached over, pulling something from the glove compartment that he stuffed into his pocket, and stepped out of the car, letting out a lazy yawn as he did so.
"Why'd you bring me here?" Theodore asked as he got out.
"Call it symbolism," Thomas said. "Come on." He walked over towards the swings, leaning against the frame while Theodore sat down, sipping from his can of soda. "Do you remember the last time we were here?"
"How can I? That was years ago."
"I remember that I promised you that I'd be there for you whenever you needed me," Thomas continued. "That I'd always look out for you." He looked down at the gravel. "We were right here... I was pushing you on the swing and Mom and Dad were over there"--he pointed--"watching us while they made lunch. You had that same brand of crap soda."
"It's not crap!"
"That's not the point."
Theodore rolled his eyes.
"What I'm getting at is that I broke my promise to you," Thomas remarked, "and I shouldn't have. I thought it'd be good for you to learn on your own but... I'm your big brother. I should've been there for you, especially before you starting... cutting." The last word came out in a choked, weak sob-like sound. He reached into his pocket and held out a thin silvery chain... and attached to the chain was a small tag.
Theodore saw it but he didn't need to read the tag's engraving. He had read it several times before--he even had one very similar.
"'Theo's Big Brother'," Thomas read aloud.
Theodore swallowed thickly. "I didn't know you kept it. You stopped wearing it when you became a freshman."
"You stopped wearing yours too."
"No, I didn't," Theodore answered. He reached into his shirt, pulling out his own chain and tag: 'Tommy's Little Brother', it read. "I never stopped wearing it. It makes me feel stronger."
"I'll start wearing mine again," Thomas promised, "because I'm proud to be your big brother. It'll be good to have my good luck charm back."
"Why now? You didn't care before."
"I always cared. Now, I'm promising you that I'll show it. I won't let anyone else bully you like that. But you have to promise that you won't go back to using those razors."
"... Why should I believe you now?"
"I don't know. Guess I'll have to earn your trust back."
Theodore nodded and downed the rest of his soda, wincing slightly at the sour taste as he always did. Thomas laughed at the sight, finding it just as adorable as he had when Theodore had first tasted it so many years ago...
"By the way, can I ask you something?"
"Sure, anything."
"What's going on with you and Ozzy?"
"That's not what I'm trying to talk about," Thomas snarled defensively. Upon seeing Theodore's intrigued look, Thomas hurriedly turned his face so that he would be seen in profile, so that his golden eye would be hidden from view. "It's nothing. We're just really close friends."
"Boyfriends?"
"No! Remember, I'm dating Eleanor."
"Still? I thought you two broke up weeks ago," Theodore said, "or is she just a cover?"
Thomas felt his heart began to race as his brain went into overdrive trying to think of something to say. He couldn't tell if Theodore knew for sure or not, but he had to say something... Anything!
"It's not what you think," he managed. "We're just best friends."
Theodore let out a snorting laughter. "Yeah, okay. I don't know why you're keeping it a secret--I really could not care less."
"It's not about you--"
"I know, it's about Mom and Dad," Theodore said. "But I don't get why I can trust you with my secrets when you can't trust me with yours."
"He knows?!" Ozzy hissed in amazement into the phone. Hurriedly, Thomas shushed him, looking back at the dark house and relaxing. He was overreacting as it was. It was the middle of the night in a quiet neighborhood. Who exactly was going to eavesdrop? "Wait a minute, you told him?" He could hear Ozzy laughing on the other side and suppressed the urge to tell him to shut up.
"He figured it out," Thomas lied.
"Is that a bad thing? You make it seem like it's a bad thing."
"He's bad at keeping secrets," Thomas remarked. "Dad makes a living arresting and intimidating people and Theo will break faster than a second if Dad just glares at him."
"So he'll just blurt out your secrets if he's getting in trouble?"
"Well, no..."
"Then stop worrying about it."
"Easy for you to say! If Dad finds out, he'll skin me alive!"
"You're exaggerating," Ozzy scoffed. "I met him and he seems pretty chill."
"You haven't heard him rant about this kind of stuff," Thomas insisted. "I asked him one question--just one!--about being gay and he nearly took my head off!"
"By your own definition, you're not gay. And I'd say that you're just a bit bi-curious," Ozzy answered lazily. "And if he does kick you out or something, you just come stay at my place."
"Did you already ask your parents?"
"No, but they won't say no to charity."
"I don't want handouts."
"If your dad overreacts, you won't have a choice," Ozzy answered. "And--"
_"Thomas!"_The new voice, authoritative and deep, made Thomas jerk in surprise and drop his cell phone in the grass. He could hear Ozzy's speaking stop and, when he picked up the phone, quickly ended the call before he could answer any of Ozzy's new questions. He turned back towards the house where he could see the silhouette of a powerful form looming on the porch. But in the light, he could see the bright golden eyes, the shiny dark fur and slightly scarred visage.
"Dad?!"
"What're you doing out here? It's midnight! You should be asleep!"
"Well, welcome back, Dad," Thomas said as he walked back up to the porch, stopping to give his father a hug. Henry Martan returned the gesture and Thomas couldn't help but grin widely. "When did you get back?"
"Just now and I find you breaking curfew."
"I'm nearly seventeen," Thomas answered. "Why do I have a curfew?"
"Because I said so," Henry answered, pulling away. "I take it Theo's already in bed?"
"Yep. What was the case this time? Murderer? Drug dealer? Satanic cult?"
"Firstly, that's none of your business," Henry interrupted. "Secondly, I don't want to have this conversation right now. Go to bed."
"Can we have this conversation in the morning?"
"Thomas..."
"Okay! Okay! I'm going." They walked back into the house and down the hall, pausing just before Thomas went into his and Theodore's room. He looked back at his father, noting how tired he looked, how red his eyes seemed. But even still...
"I'm glad you're back, Dad," Thomas replied.
"I'm glad to be back, Tommy, but you need your rest."
"So do you. Where have you been the past few days?"
"Later, Thomas. Go to sleep."
Friday
Thomas found himself distracted throughout the day, unable to compose his mind to the pointless breakfast conversation (during which his father had expertly left all questions unanswered) or to his teachers' lectures. Even Ozzy's stupid jokes had gone largely ignored.
At the forefront of his mind was Theodore and Thomas had done all he could to keep Theodore in his sights whenever he could. During lunch, he had joined Theodore in line and noticed, almost immediately, that his mere presence had kept the bullies at bay. They saw him--he caught their eyes more than once--but they wisely kept their distance. They walked to an unoccupied table together, soon joined by Eleanor and Mark.
"Ew, school food," Mark snorted indignantly.
"Ew, protein shake," Theodore countered smugly.
"So, boys, are you ready for the game tonight?" Eleanor asked, giggling as she leaned over on Thomas's shoulder.
"Always ready," Thomas answered, putting his arm around Eleanor with a confident smirk. He caught Theodore's disapproving glare and hurriedly looked down at the table. "After all, who's better than us?"
"Pride comes before the fall and it's a long fall from the top," Theodore said. He popped open the tab on his can of soda, but before he could take a drink, Thomas snatched it away. "Hey! That's mine!"
"Nope, I paid for it," Thomas answered, "so that means it's mine." He took a quick swig and cringed.
"See? You don't even like it. You owe me another one!"
"Here, just take the can," Thomas scoffed, giving it back. "I feel like I need to wash my tongue after that."
"Here, you started it, you finish it," Theodore replied, giving it back.
"Uh... maybe later..."
"What're you wearing?" Eleanor asked in confusion as she grabbed the chain around Thomas's neck. She read the tag and giggled again. "Aw, that's adorable."
"What's it say?" Mark wondered.
"None of your business," Thomas answered, tucking the chain into his shirt. "It's just an old good luck charm." He looked over at Theodore who seemed stunned. He saw Theodore pull at the chain around his neck as well and felt happy. It had been a while since he had felt like this, solidarity and pride.
"What's up with you?" Ozzy asked as they walked into the locker room. Already, the stands were filled with family, friends, teachers and fellow students. They didn't have much time to chat. "You look like shit..." He moved closer and leaned in, dropping his voice down and adopting the most seductive tone he could. "Aw, poor baby. Does the big kitty need some help."
"No," Thomas replied sternly and Ozzy recoiled in surpise. "That... arrangement needs to stop. You're not my"--he lowered his voice--"boyfriend."
"True, but you enjoy it too," Ozzy chided. He chortled playfully before he saw the dark look in Thomas's eye. "Oh, you're serious..." Thomas was silent. "Okay, okay, don't glare at me like that! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to piss you off or anything. I just figured you liked it."
"I did," Thomas confessed. "But... I'm trying to make some changes in my life. And what we've been doing is... wrong." He found himself unable to look directly at Ozzy now, unsure of if he should even have spoken. But he willed himself to continue. "Look, I'm not trying to be mean to you or anything, but... I'm not gay. And I'm tired of sneaking around just to get off. And we both know what would happen if my dad found out."
Ozzy let out a heavy sigh. "I kind of figured this'd happen. But... does this mean you're going to avoid me now or...?"
"Only if you try to flirt with me again..."
A loud whistle cut through the noise in the locker room. Coach Nun had entered and was about to give his usual before-game speech.
It was almost ceremonial, the procession out onto the field for the first game. Thomas was second in line, waving at the crowd with Ozzy and Mark just behind him. This was an excitement that he had missed over the dull summer. The band was still playing, the cheerleaders exciting the crowd, and his eyes searched the stands desperately...
There they were, seated in the fourth row. He could see his mother, clapping happily as she waved at him. There was his father, looking down at him with that same proud smirk he wore at each of his games. But where was...?
He's not here...
"Hey, you got a fan," Mark stated and he pointed.
There, not up in the stands but on the sidelines, was Theodore, seated on the bench where the players would sit when the game began. He had a book in his lap and a can of that awful soda in his hands. Without thinking, Thomas broke away from the line and ran over to his brother, pulling him into a rough hug. He hadn't heard the coach call him back, but he saw Ozzy and Mark walk over and, together, they hoisted Theodore up and walked him into the middle of the field.
I'll never forget this moment, Thomas thought gladly as he looked up at Theodore's smiling visage.
"What were you doing down there?" Henry asked as Theodore joined him and his wife in the stands. He was smiling as well, unable to keep himself from enjoying the sight of his two sons there on the field.
"Just wanted to wish Tommy good luck," Theodore answered as he sat down. He opened the book he had brought with him. "Gave him some soda to keep him hydrated."
Mary glanced over at him. "You gave him your soda? You know he doesn't drink that stuff."
Theodore shrugged and looked down at the field. He knew very little of football and never truly cared to know. But as he looked down at the field, he could see Thomas and smiled. He stood up quickly.
"GOOD LUCK, TOMMY!"
Thomas looked back in surprise and waved.
"Was that necessary? That was right in my ear," Henry griped.
"It was. That was just to be sure that Tommy wins."
It was only the second quarter and already they had fallen behind. Thomas cursed darkly as he glared up at the scoreboard. He looked down at the unopened can of lemon soda that Theodore had left him and felt a surge of guilt. He had promised that he would win...
"Martan! Switch in!" Coach Nun called.
Thomas nodded as he hopped up from the bench. It took him only a second to realize that he had not set down the can of soda yet... but the second was overshadowed by a single, ear-splitting sound, a sharp noise that was rapidly followed by screaming, running, terror, fear... Panic had gripped the crowd and Thomas's eyes immediately drifted up to the stands. Time seemed to slow down as he watched someone fall...
"THEO!"
One week later
How long had it been since they had returned home? An hour or two? Maybe more, maybe less... Thomas really didn't know and he didn't care to know. He hadn't paid much attention to the world around him since closing himself in his bedroom, sitting on his bunk... But it was too quiet without the sound of the bunk above him creaking with movement or the dip in the foot of his bed where _he_would usually sit...
And Thomas hadn't stopped staring at this stupid can of unopened soda... The golden color, the ugly label and the weird mascot. He had seen it several times before and found it repulsive. But now... Now he was unable to look away.
His eyes felt dry... Had he really been crying so much?
There was a knock on the door and Thomas jerked in fear. It was like hearing that shot again... Like hearing the casket close... But the door opened with a creak that pulled Thomas from his memories. Henry stepped into the room, looking even worse for wear than Mary had, but she had occupied herself with as many meaningless tasks as she could, anything to try to avoid facing the reality of it all...
"How're you holding up?" Henry asked in an uncharacteristically weak, broken voice.
"Barely," Thomas admitted. "I just can't believe that... It's not fair."
"No, it's not," Henry replied, "but at least he got some justice..."
"Fuck that!" Thomas snarled back. "Who the fuck cares about justice! It's not like it'll..." Perhaps he hadn't cried all of his tears yet after all. His eyes were watering, his body was shaking and he couldn't contain it anymore. He was sobbing. When Henry approached him, Thomas moved away. "Why him? It's just... What did he do to deserve this?"
Henry shifted uneasily. He seated himself beside his son and swallowed thickly. "If anyone's to blame, it should be me... The shooter wasn't aiming for Theo... He was aiming for me."
"What do you mean?" Thomas asked, eyes narrowed.
Henry swallowed thickly. "Remember the case I was working on this week? I was following a lead on the leader of some drug dealing gang. We had been watching them for a while and we had the chance to bring it down. We took it. Most of the dealers are imprisoned, we impounded their cars, disposed of their weapons and disposed of the narcotics... but a few of them got away and one of them apparently got a good luck at me..."
It took a moment for the details to click in Thomas's head. His countenance started to change from sorrow, to confusion, to amazement before settling on rage. "It was your fault," he said lowly. Then, with more vigor, he screamed at the top of his lungs, "THIS WAS YOUR FAULT!"
"Thomas--" Henry started, but Thomas wasn't listening anymore. He had never felt such anger, untamed and all-consuming in its purity, as he glared into the emotionless face of his father. He wanted to break that calmness, to shatter that face...
So he struck, but Henry caught his fist and quickly wrenched him down, holding him down on the carpet.
"LET GO!" Thomas bellowed.
"Not until you calm down," Henry replied and his calmness fed Thomas's newfound madness. He shifted and struggled, but Henry's grip remained firm, his weight keeping down his son expertly. "You need to listen to me."
Thomas's breathing did not slow, nor did his anger abate. But he forced himself to try to be calmer. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest and he felt his entire body tremble.
"I know this is the most difficult thing to come to terms with," Henry said saying, "but how do you think I feel knowing that I'm responsible? That's my son they buried today." Thomas felt something drip onto his cheek... Henry was crying.
Thomas's anger broke. It seemed impossible that Henry, the hardened, distant panther who had raised him was crying now. He felt his father's weight lift and stood upright. For the first time, he realized that he had reached his father's height... but looking into that face... It was like looking at Theodore again.
"So what happens now?" Thomas asked weakly.
"We move on. It'll be hard, I know, and I don't expect us to get over this completely," Henry admitted. "Eventually, we'll be able to live our lives..."
"I don't think I can..."
"It'll be alright, I promise," Henry assured him. He put his hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed slightly before pulling him into a hug. "I'm sorry to put you through this..."
"... I think I need some time alone," Thomas stated.
Henry pulled back. "I'll be in the living room with your mother if and when you need us. Try to get some rest."
"Yes, sir."
Henry nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door gently behind him. Thomas sighed heavily, stuffing his hand into his pocket. Surprised to feel something there, he pulled it out--It was Theodore's razor. _Why didn't I throw this away?_Thomas wondered. He picked up the can of soda from the floor, glaring at it and, after a brief moment of thought, he climbed onto the top bunk. He popped the tab on the soda and took a swig. The taste was still unfamiliar and strangely disgusting to him... but he continued to sip from it.
I wonder what you saw in this, Thomas wondered as he glared at the razor... He hesitated for a moment before spreading the fur on his arm and bringing the razor to the skin...
Just this once...