Follow You Into The Dark

Chapter 8: Silenced Regrets

When you wake up, the sun is streaming through the window, painting the room with a warm, golden light. Tom is still asleep, his face nestled into the crook of your neck. You gently brush the hair away from his forehead, admiring the way his eyelashes flutter when he stirs awake. He opens his eyes, looking up at you with a soft, contented smile. "Good morning," he whispers, his voice still groggy with sleep.

You smile back, feeling a rush of affection for him. "Morning," you whisper, your voice still rough from sleep. "How do you feel?"

He yawns, stretching out beside you. "Better. Thank you," he says, sincerity mixing with the remnants of sleep in his voice. He rolls onto his side, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you. "Last night...I'm sorry for, well, everything. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't apologize," you interrupt gently, silencing the stream of regrets. "You have nothing to be sorry for. And I understand, it's not easy to let go of the past." His eyes hold a tumult of emotions—gratitude, relief, and a hint of lingering pain, but you meet them steadily, your presence a silent vow of support.

He looks at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, and you feel the weight of his trust settle heavily between you. "Okay," he says finally, a note of relief in his voice. "Okay."

As you both lie there in the quiet of your room, you find yourself lost in thought. Tom's story is playing out in your mind, the details coming together to form a vivid picture of the person he is and the life he's led. You're amazed by his resilience, his strength in the face of adversity. And you can't help but feel a deep sense of admiration for him. The silence holds a comforting embrace as you reflect on the journey that has sculpted his character — a tapestry of trials and triumphs that resonate with an undeniable courage. His vulnerability, in sharing his story with you, only fortifies the respect that slowly, gracefully flowers within you.

You note the purplish bruises still staining his porcelain skin from the other night. They are stark against the fairness of his complexion, each one a testament to the physical toll of his past struggles. Despite this, there's an undeniable resilience that seems to emanate from him, a silent declaration that he's endured and survived. Your fingers itch to trace the contours of those marks, not in pity, but in awe of the silent battles he's fought.

"Tom? What happened to you the other night? Why did you come home looking like you'd been in a fight?" You ask, brushing your thumb over a particularly dark splotch of abused skin. You can feel him tense up slightly at the contact, but he leans into the touch nonetheless.

He looks away for a moment, his jaw tightening, and when he speaks, his voice has a hard edge to it. "I saw something that made me lose it," he admits, gripping the sheets in his fist. "There are just some things that just undo me, old memories that rush back too fast, too hard." His voice breaks a little, and he clears his throat, trying to hide the quake of emotions.

"There was this guy...he was hitting his girlfriend. I couldn't just stand there and watch." He pauses, taking a shuddering breath, and when he looks back at you, there's a fire in his eyes. "After our fight, I was already pissed off, and seeing that...I couldn't control myself. I stepped in." His voice falters for a second. "I just wanted to protect her, but things escalated quickly." He runs a hand through his hair, a weary sigh escaping him.

"What happened?" you ask gently, your heart aching for him. He blows out a breath, the shadows of the memory crossing his face.

"I swung at the guy, and the guy's friends jumped me," Tom says. The words are heavy, each one laden with a mix of regret and steadfast resolution. "It turned into a mess. All I could think about was not letting him hurt her anymore. I took a few hits." His hands clench at the sheets, knuckles whitening. "By the time the bouncer pulled us apart, it was too late. I was already pretty banged up." His eyes meet yours again, the tumult within them seeking understanding.