TRIS POV
"Okay, fair warning: I haven't been here in a while, and I didn't exactly have the best choice in decorations," Tobias says over his shoulder as he fumbles with his keys to unlock the door of his apartment.
I just laugh off his admission. His home could be a dilapidated shack or his car, and I wouldn't mind in the slightest. Sometimes I think he still believes that he needs to be presented better for me because my family is wealthy. I hope he lets go of that.
Opening the door and walking inside, he looks around the room self-consciously. When he steps aside to let me in, I shut the door behind me and kick off my shoes next to his before scanning the apartment.
It only has three rooms: a living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. His queen-sized bed is stationed in the living room and cornered by two walls. In front of the bed is a small two-person couch placed in front of a TV on a coffee table. The kitchen is more like a kitchenette and is adjoined with the living room with a bar as its table. The bathroom is separated by a couple walls, and that's about it. There is a closet though, its purpose unknown. Each wall is a plain white and not decorated.
It demonstrates who he is as a person: simple and neat and willing to give up every possible comfort for those he loves.
"Sorry," he apologizes profusely, bending down to pick up a spare t-shirt, which he then carries over to the closet. The closet turns out to be where the washer and drier are stacked, and he stuffs the black shirt in the washer before turning back to me. "I swear, I never leave stuff around until someone comes over. Which is like never, thank God."
I chuckle. "Tobias, it's fine. I think your apartment is perfect," I try to convince him.
It is a cute little living space, but he is a tall guy, and this probably seems cramped to him. I certainly am not used to anything like this, so I can't help but see this as a huge sacrifice on his part.
He itches the back of his neck, seemingly flustered and embarrassed by how small and unexciting his apartment is. It was probably all he could afford while paying his mother's bills without a steady career, and if anything it is pitiful, definitely not something to frown upon.
"Hey." I walk over to him, placing my hands on either side of his face. "I like it. You shouldn't be ashamed around me, especially not because of something like this."
His lips twitch up in a smile, which he masks. He lowers my wrists and holds them down between us and says, "I need to tell you something. I guess that's why I brought you here in the first place. I thought we should be alone."
I nod, silently bubbling with excitement. Today could be the day he finally tells me the rest. About who he is, about everything he went through, about the good, the bad, the ugly, and everything in between.
"Um..." He looks around for somewhere to sit, skipping over the couch and mumbling disgustedly about the few holes it has before leading me over to his bed. He sits down on the navy sheets and pats the space next to him to signal that I should sit there. I do.
"It's time I told you about my childhood. And more," he says cautiously. I celebrate in my mind but keep a straight face. And then he chuckles softly. "I don't even know where to start."
I set my hand on his thigh. "Take your time." Although I am glad that he is finally opening up to me all the way, I don't want to scare him off. I don't want him to hurt over this. If he needs even more time, I will give it to him because I know this must not be easy for him.
Tobias clears his throat before beginning. "As you know, I grew up in a humble household as an only child with two parents. What you don't know is why my life was terrible, and who my father is."
I furrow my eyebrows in concentration. I don't know why his dad matters since he never mentions him. And I don't know how I'm supposed to know him either.
"My father was...extremely abusive." He slides his fingers together and apart repeatedly and focuses on the action. "For as long as I can remember, he would hit me and my mother. Our daily beating."
Oh, God. I try not to throw up in my mouth when I think of a miniature Tobias getting pummeled by his so-called father.
"I'll spare you from the details, but let's just say that it was bad enough to leave us both bruised and bleeding nearly every night. And I mean, if he was going to do it, he might as well have had a reason. But no, he was just grumpy when he came home from work and needed something to take his anger out on. Or in this case, someone."
I cringe at the image he paints in my mind. How would that affect you to grow up in terror of being cruelly punished when you were innocent? How would that affect you to have a dad who you were supposed to love but couldn't because of the way he treated you? How would that affect you to have your own father, your own blood, turn on you for no reason?
I'm glad I never had to find out.
"He had a decent amount of money too—I remember seeing stacks of cash in his briefcase when he left it out on accident on numerous occasions—but he never spent it on us. We would get a tiny amount to spend on clothes and groceries and that was it. He wanted to keep up his reputation as the politician who has a lot but doesn't use it because he doesn't want to show off. While buying alcohol for himself on the side.
"So one day, my mom is done, right? She files for a divorce. He lets her go because he is fed up with her. Good for her, she got out. But I didn't," Tobias states, staring across the room at a wall because he is unable to face me. "They both fought for me at the trial. It was rough. I was only six years old, so of course I didn't know what was going on."
Every time he brings up his young age, my heart breaks for him a little more.
"My father paid off the judge, threatened my mother, and was able to win full custody of me. At the time, I didn't know what I was witnessing, and for a long time I convinced myself that she didn't fight for me. She told me the truth a little bit ago, that she fought an impossible battle but that she did fight."
I hold onto his arm and lean into him to offer support. His mother is still a tough subject. It shows too, in the way his voice wavers slightly and how he has to pause to regain his composure.
"After that, I went out of the frying pan and into the fire. The beatings got worse. He started using his belt. And then the belt buckle."
By now, tears have gathered in my eyes, but I force them down by biting the inside of my cheek.
"Joining the Marines was my escape," he explains. "I could get out at seventeen, and by the time I came back, I would be too old to live with him anymore. So I did. And then they called me back at nineteen because nobody could pay my mother's cancer bills, the mother who I wasn't allowed to see for thirteen years. You can imagine how well that went over."
I stifle a laugh at the idea of such an awkward position. Tobias's temper most likely didn't help the situation.
"Anyway." He turns towards me and hesitates before hinting, "You asked the other night how I knew Marcus Eaton. I think you can put two and two together."
That wipes away any amusement I had, and I have to cover my mouth in shock. Marcus Eaton, my father's friend and coworker, is Tobias's father.
I try to recall all that I know about him; I have only met him a few times, but I heard a lot of gossip from other politicians when I followed my mom around at a younger age. They would say the same thing: Marcus was married to a psycho woman who left him, and his estranged son abandoned him because he was selfish. Proves that you can't believe everything you hear.
Marcus is not the friendly man he pretends to be. He is not the modest, self-effacing mayor he acts as.
He is a sadist who beat his wife and son into submission and got away with it.
"And all along he seemed like such a nice guy," I scoff. "'Hello, Beatrice. It is great to see you again. You look pretty tonight.' I can't believe I fell for that." I bury my face in my hands, wondering how I was so naïve that I couldn't see the brutality in his eyes all those times we were introduced.
"Trust me, he has everyone fooled. Don't feel too bad. It's what he does."
But I ignore him for a second, because suddenly my brain catches on to something.
"Eaton," I say, a smile growing as I watch his confused face. "That's your name. Tobias Eaton."
He shrugs it off, bouncing his foot impatiently. "Yeah, I'm not proud of it."
"I love it," I refute. "It fits well." He must only be thinking about how it connects him to his monster of a father. He doesn't see himself the way I do.
Suddenly, he stands and turns to face me, looking nervous. "There's one more thing," he declares, fidgeting with the bottom of his shirt. "You asked me a couple times why I never take my shirt off."
I nod. I have never understood his lack of self-confidence in this area. He is fit, so it is not like he has anything to be sheepish about.
I watch as he turns around, tugs on the collar of his shirt, and pulls it over his head to reveal his back. The sight drives me to my feet.
As expected, his back is muscular. However, that is the last thing I could care about because it is not the most prominent feature about him.
His whole back is defaced with deep, white scars. From the abuse, of course, why didn't I realize? I can't help but trace them with a soft, gentle touch, like they will hurt if I press too hard.
Marcus's violence has caused him to live not only with mental issues, but with physical reminders. Too many physical reminders to count.
And now I understand why he never removed his shirt. He didn't want people to stare, to ask questions. He didn't want to have to be judged by something he wants to forget.
I assume that he thinks they are hideous and impair him, but I see the beauty in them; I see survival and strength and more reason to love who he is.
So I show that to him. I step forward and wrap my arms around him, my hands coming in contact with his defined abdomen. Then I kiss a long, jagged scar that is marked at the perfect height for me, right below his neck.
Rotating back to see me, he stares down into my eyes, bewildered.
"Why?" he whispers.
And I think I know what he is asking, so I answer him the best I can.
"Because I love you," I reply. "Not only do I love your character and everything you stand for, as I have told you before, but I also love your impact on me. I love how you have changed me as a person by showing me the beauty in the little things that I no longer see as insignificant. I love how you make all the money I have not matter. Most of all, I love all of the things about you that you believe are flaws.
"And you know, I waited all this time to hear what your childhood was like, and now I realize that it doesn't matter. You're still the person I fell in love with either way. You're still my Tobias, and the past and a few scars aren't going to change that."
When I finish my monologue, he looks dumbstruck and isn't able to say anything. But he doesn't have to, because I receive his response in his kiss.
The shirt falls from his fist to the floor, forgotten. We collide, and my arms end up trapped in between our bodies, my hands pressed against his bare chest. In a flash, he lifts me up by the backs of my thighs and turns so that he is sitting on the bed with me straddling him.
We only stop for a moment to look in each other's eyes, a newfound mutual agreement reflecting back at us. And then, everything escalates from there.
His lips move passionately against mine, not gentle but not rough. When we have to pull back for air, I take the opportunity to throw a quick, curious glance down at him, since I have never seen him without a shirt. And boy, is he built...
But then we become needy again and go back in for more kissing. One of my hands moves to tangle in his dark hair for better leverage, while the other traces the scars on his back in appreciation rather than humiliation. His grip on me tightens; he moves upward, and I feel his hands on my waist under my shirt.
It makes me break away from him, and we both pant as our foreheads rest together, as my clouded mind works to comprehend everything.
I should be scared. When Peter tried to do this to me, I was horrified. I felt violated because I wasn't ready. And I don't know if I'm ready for such a leap now, but looking into Tobias's nearly black, innocent eyes reminds me of my belief in him, in us.
All doubt is erased. All uncertainty disappears.
I help him remove my shirt before continuing where we left off. Pretty soon, our shirts are not the only articles of clothing removed, and it turns into something far more intense.
But I'm not afraid.
He kisses any fears or uneasiness I might have away and whispers words of love and devotion. We become whole in a way that I never would have dreamed of; the connection we had before is enhanced dramatically. Because now, there are no barriers, there are no hindrances.
It is just him and me.