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

• chapter three •

"Hmm," he considered, thinking he might as well ruffle Matt's feathers a little, "Well, I'd say it's a bloody good time to be jerking off, if I'm honest."

You could practically see the steam coming from Matt's ears.

"Thomas," he fumed. "It's eleven forty -" (Matt paused to check his phone) "- eleven forty-six!"

The reply Matt received was nothing but a blank, vaguely disinterested stare, which of course vexed him even further.

"Most people are awake and functioning at this time! And most of them are at work! Honestly, Tom, do you ever consider your job? Have you ever once pondered the fate of it?!"

Matt's gone too far again, sighed Tom, subsequently swimming too deep in his own disgruntlement for his now directionless thoughts to be deciphered, except one. I'll bring him back.

"Matthew," he retorted, to gain Matt's full attention, then let his tone subdue, to keep him there. "You know Carol's religious. We don't open on Sundays."

Two fingers to his left temple, Matt drew out the nullified breath he was holding. "All right," he allowed. "I know, I know." Looking Tom in the eye, he sobered, "You get why I'm so worried, though, don't you?"

Tom nodded hesitantly.

"Neither of us are quite where we want to be, are we? I know how trapped you feel, Tom. Don't tell me I'm assuming things, because you and I very well know I can read you like a book."

Matt caught Tom's gaze stray from him, the wistful look on his face betraying his façade. He nearly jumped when he felt his chin turned back towards Matt, relaxing when he realised it was only him. "Anywhere you want to go, Tom, you can make it. I really do believe this, with all my heart."

Matt stepped back, and flashed his signature stunning smile. "And I have all the means to help you."

Slowly, dread crept up on Tom. His face fell with realisation; his head shook frantically. "N-N-No, no, I don't want your snotty fucking money!" His tone had developed to a snarl.

What he hadn't realised was the fact he was now stood up.

Although Matt was more than used to this standard escalation of feeling - an outburst, most would call it - his eyes of sapphire widened upon instinct. "Tom, there's no need to be rude."

His otherwise perfectly sculpted features crumpled up like paper for a fraction of a second. "You know, I've tried everything." The exasperation in his voice was clear.

This didn't affect Tom whatsoever. "You don't need to fix me, Matt," he growled, teeth grit together.

"Every method except directly financial," he continued, in spite of Tom's protest, "has failed. Shopping trips haven't stopped you going to bars every night you're free. Movie nights haven't made you consider that one night stands are far less important than your friends, who, by the way, are all willing to be there for you for more than just one night, even if you arrive at theirs holding all of your antisocial baggage."

"'A dog is for life, not just for Christmas'," Tom spat with derision. "Boo hoo."

Matt had had quite enough. "Thomas, I swear to God -"

But he may as well have been trying to reason with a wild animal. "No! Fuck off, Matt, I don't need this shit today."

"Oh yes you do, now sit down and listen like an adult for once -"

"I'm warning you; get off my case, Matt -"

"No," he returned firmly.

"Stop trying! I'm fine!!"

Matt furrowed his brows, "You're not!"

"I'm. Fucking. Fine."

"You need to listen to people, Thomas!! Especially your friends! The things they're telling you aren't insults, aren't lies" - he barely took a breath in his speech - "but pointers. They're trying to help you, Tom, but you just won't let them!"

"'Help' me...?" Tom's eyes widened incredulously. "I don't think Erin and Courtney, of all people, deserve to be associated with such a word when they're too busy calling me a fucking slut between manicures!" he snapped. "In what universe would those two have the authority to claim they're helping me?!"

"Oh, for God's sake, Tom, you won't even go to therapy!"

Immediately, the apartment was too quiet.

All the air in their lungs had gone. It was clear Matt had won their screaming contest, at least.

Matt expected to meet Tom's eyes with an unspoken I'm sorry, but Tom's head had dropped, like all the life had been drained out of him.

The more quickly regretful of the two choked on his breath, feeling his chances fall away, "Tom, I..."

The door had already closed on him.

Too quietly.

Huh, he really can make a dramatic exit without slamming the door, Matt thought sadly.

His steps echoed throughout the room as he slowly made his way to the counter in silence, and his head fell in his hands. He began to sob.

Another young man had felt as helpless the previous night, an anonymous figure feeling the same before him.

If this were a cosmic joke, maybe it was finally Tom's turn.

A.N.: Hey.

I'm not all that pleased with this one, but what can you do, this entire book is a risky experiment. I've room to learn, at least.

Hope you enjoyed anyway. Thanks for reading.

<3