TW: Mentions of ED, mentions of abuse
"Do you want some hot chocolate?" Thomas asked from the kitchen.
Not knowing if I could stomach anything at the moment, I declined.
I could hear the frown in his voice as he said, "What have you eaten today?"
Nothing.
"I had a sandwich for lunch." I lied.
It's not that I didn't want to eat. I just couldn't. My stomach chucked pretty much anything I had consumed back up again as my anxious vomiting had started again. At the moment, it was manageable as I was able to keep about enough down to stop me from passing out but it still wasn't healthy. I wasn't an idiot. I knew it wasn't healthy. But I just couldn't face food. I didn't know how much longer I could go before I would pass out. I dreaded the thought.
"You can have a hot chocolate then." It wasn't a request.
"Really, it's fine. I don't want to be a bother." I said, chewing on my bottom lip.
Thomas sighed. "Valerie, you're never a bother. Never to me." And he started making me a hot chocolate.
As I heard the frothy mixture being made, my mind wandered to a certain phone call that I had received not too long after Michael had called me.
"Val, your phone's ringing." Mable said, coming into my room.
I pulled out my earbud and thanked her, making my way to the phone, thinking that it was Will coming to explain whatever the fuck Michael was on about.
I grabbed the phone putting it to my ear. I was right. It was Will.
Even though I knew it would be, I still released a sigh of relief at it not being him.
"Hey, Val."
"Hi, Will." I said tentatively.
"So listen, I haven't got long but I needed to talk to you, do you have a sec?"
I hesitated. I had nothing to do but something was telling me to put this phone down.
I ignored the feeling and decided to say, "Yeah, sure. What is it?"
I heard him sigh on the other end.
"Look, there's no nice way of putting this. I'm sure Michael spoke to you and was being all foreboding?"
"Something like that." I smiled slightly, not sure where this conversation was going.
He paused and I felt my heart thundering in my chest. A feeling I hadn't felt in five months. "Dad's coming to New York with me."
I stopped breathing, I stopped thinking. All I felt was the intense surge of fear making it's way through me and the sour taste of betrayal from my brother. Sure, he didn't know everything our father did to me, but he wasn't blind or deaf. He heard the things he said to me. Saw the words he threw my way. I knew everything was my fault but I knew I didn't deserve all of that. He had to know it too... didn't he?
"Before you say anything, or say no, I just want you to know that I- no we're doing this for the family. We've been so broken, Val. I want to see you, he wants to see you. Please."
I sighed, preparing to let my brother down. "Will-"
"We've already bought the plane tickets. Please for once, don't be selfish and make me return them. I'm busy enough as it is. He's coming, okay?"
As soon as the word selfish crossed his lips, I knew that that was that. The rest of the phone call was a blur as I fought tears and a fierce surge of nausea fighting its way into me.
Since then, I hadn't been able to eat, sleep or think properly. I was getting 3 hours a night, max. I was eating one meal a day which was getting smaller and smaller and I was throwing up every other day, which would soon turn into everyday.
"You want whipped cream?" Thomas' voice cleared the memory from my mind. "I'm giving you whipped cream." He said, more to himself.
"Okay." I mustered a smile. I was grateful that his back was to me because something told me that he would be able to tell that my smile was very much fake.
A moment later, Thomas came into the room, two mugs in hand and set them down on the coffee table.
I stared at his creation, steaming hot chocolate with cream and fluffy marshmallows. I had to admit, it looked delicious. And maybe because it had come from him, I took a sip without feeling sick. I was beyond grateful.
"I bought the DVD because I don't really have any streaming stuff on my TV." Thomas said, grabbing the remote from the coffee table.
"I'm sorry what?" I said, my eyes wide.
"Yeah, there's no point." He shrugged, pressing a button on his remote.
"Not even Netflix?!" I exclaimed.
"I don't really watch TV." He said.
"You're a psychopath." I said, shaking my head in disbelief.
"Yeah, a really scary psychopath that makes hot chocolate." He rolled his eyes.
"Exactly." A laugh rose out of him at that.
"Here we go." He clicked play on the screen that was plastered with Bridget Jones, Mark Darcy and Daniel Cleaver's faces.
He settled into the cushions, shuffling ever so slightly closer to me so that we were about a foot apart.
I smiled to myself.
Bridget's voice started on the screen.
It all began on New Year's Day in my 32nd year of being single...
---
"I don't get it, we're supposed to like that Mark guy?" Thomas said from next to me, now even closer than before.
"Obviously." I rolled my eyes.
"There's nothing obvious about it, he was so mean to her."
"Yeah, but he didn't really mean it. And he makes up for it." I said, as Bridget fumbled at her work conference.
"But he's a dick and he's emotionally stunted."
I tapped my chin in pretend thought. "Hmmm... sounds like someone I know."
"Very funny." Thomas rolled his eyes.
"It doesn't hurt that he looks like that." I said, staring at Colin Firth's beautiful face.
"Looks like what?"
"Well, look at him. He's gorgeous." I said, shrugging.
Thomas narrowed his eyes at the TV. "He isn't that good looking."
"I think the majority of the British female and probably just female population in general would disagree with you there." I said, smiling as I saw Thomas getting so worked up.
"He's average." Thomas said, sounding quite emotional on the matter.
"He's tall, dark and handsome. Isn't that like the epitome of good looks?"
Thomas smirked. "I know someone else that's-"
"Shut it." I said, sending a glare his way which only made him laugh.
"What about Daniel Cleaver?" He asked. "What do you think about him?"
"He's cocky and he's a man-child." I said, wrinkling my nose.
"So you like the more quiet, brooding type." Thomas said, looking at me carefully.
"I guess you could say that. Although Hugh Grant is very good looking." I pointed out.
"So you like brown hair." Thomas gathered.
I laughed. "Yes."
He nodded, as if he was thinking about something very important. I shook my head and turned back to the film.
When Mark and Daniel were fighting in the street over Bridget, I got up to go to the bathroom.
After asking Thomas where it was, I made my way over.
"Don't pause it, I've seen it a million times."
Thomas paused it anyway.
After I came back, I noticed that Thomas was in a different position. I don't know if it was in my imagination, but I could have sworn he was sitting further away than before I went to the toilet. I decided not to question it and I sat down where I had been sitting before.
This time, our thighs were almost touching.
I had to take a deep breath before he hit play.
If he noticed, he didn't say anything.
"We're on Mark's side, right?" Thomas asked.
"Yes because he likes her just the way she is."
"Just the way she is?"
"Were you not paying attention? That's like the most important part of the movie." I laughed.
"I mean, I did notice that but I didn't think that it was that important." He remarked, looking at me and not the TV.
"Yes, of course it's important. Bridget is overweight (Or not unhealthily skinny more like), she smokes too much, drinks too much and she struggles with finding goals that she can follow when she is content with getting by in a job that she doesn't really care about. But Mark likes her just the way she is." I paused. "I sound like a nerd."
Thomas laughed and in that moment, I wished that he did it more.
Our thighs were touching now. Little tingles of electricity were shooting up my legs and suddenly the room felt very warm and much, much smaller.
I cleared my throat. His laugh gave me the confidence to continue. "She represents the majority of women that aren't insanely intelligent supermodels with golden morals."
"That's why you like this movie so much?" Thomas asked, looking at me again.
"And Colin Firth."
He frowned. "Yeah, him."
I gave him a funny look. "Are you jealous?"
Thomas' gaze shot straight back to the movie. "Why would I be jealous?"
"Well, for starters, every time I mention Colin's name, you look like you want to punch the 63 year old in the face. You have that look right now!"
"He's 63?" Is all Thomas said.
"Not in this movie, but as of now, unfortunately yes." I sighed.
---
After the movie had ended, I was getting ready to head home when Thomas said, "I should drive you."
My brows knitted, "Thomas, my apartment is a street away."
"Yeah, but it's safer."
"Not really." I started to smile at his ridiculousness.
"I'm driving you."
"That's a waste of your petrol and it's awful for the environment."
"Then I'll walk you."
"You really don't need to do that."
"I really do."
"What?" I said.
"For my own sanity. I need to know that you're safe." He said, shocking me.
"Do you not trust that I'll be perfectly able to get home safely on my own?" I said, raising an eyebrow.
"So stubborn." He said to himself, smiling. He grabbed his keys and opened his door. "After you." He said, an expectant look on his face. I scowled, stepping out of his apartment and into the hallway.
"I'll be fine, really." I said as we got into the lift.
"Yeah, because you're with me."
"You are so arrogant!" I huffed, turning to him. I don't remember us being this close.
His eyes had amusement dancing in them and that was suddenly gone as his gaze dropped to my lips. The look in his green eyes was something more heated. I found myself struggling to breathe properly but at the same time, wanting to get closer to him. Very confusing.
Just as my own eyes dropped to his lips and I was sure I could hear my heart thumping in my chest, the lift doors opened and Thomas turned to them, walking out. I trailed behind him and watched as he shook his head slightly, trying to get something in his mind straight.
We walked the short distance to my apartment, talking about our shared class and the movie we had watched.
As we neared my apartment, I said, "We should watch your favourite movie next time."
Fuck. Why did I always do this? Why did I always assume that there would be a next time? For all I knew, Thomas was counting down the moments for that film to be finished so he could get rid of me.
"You know- if you want- not saying that there will be a next time. It was just an idea." I trailed off, my cheeks pinking. I chanced a peek at Thomas but he had this strange look on his face. The kind of look I imagined someone to have when they had just won a jackpot.
"I would love that." He said, genuinely smiling. "My favourite movie is Superbad by the way."
"Oh, cool! I've always wanted to watch that." I said, truthfully, a bit more at ease now.
We stopped outside of my apartment building but before I could say anything, Thomas beat me to it. "Valerie, can I ask you something?"
I hesitated at the earnest look on his face. "Sure." I said with surprising ease.
"Why are you always so afraid that people don't want you around?" His gaze locked onto mine, keeping me frozen in place.
I paused, unsure of whether I should answer truthfully or not. Then I realised something extremely scary. I was starting to trust Thomas. The guy that I had hated so passionately nearly two months ago. Thomas Verner.
This was what compelled me to tell the truth. "No one usually does. Or that's what I've been told." I said thoughtfully.
For the first few months after Mum died, my family couldn't look or be around me. I shut myself in my room, battling my thoughts and trying to just stand up everyday with the crushing weight of guilt that had been welded onto my shoulders.
My school allowed me time off so I stayed home, unsure if I could stomach being around ballet in any shape or form. Mable wasn't allowed around and she understood. But she still tried. Eventually, she had to give up because my front door was always locked and I couldn't bare the thought of leaving my room and seeing the hatred in all of my brothers' and especially my father's eyes.
For two months, no one spoke a word to me. I was almost convinced that I had lost the use of my vocal chords.
Then I woke up one day, with a big bruise on my arm and I couldn't remember how I got it, only who gave it to me. I had blacked out or my brain recessed the memory.
That was when everything started.
"Who told you that?" Thomas said, something fierce in his voice.
"Goodnight, Thomas." I said, smiling at his kindness that I knew I didn't deserve. "Thank you for tonight." I reached up and placed a kiss on his cheek.
He stared at me and before he had the chance to say anything else, I was heading inside.
---
Bit of a longer chapter to make up for my slower updates so hope you enjoyed xxx
Word count: 2339