A soft summer breeze swept through the park, swirling lethargically around the various lumbering towers of playsets, curling underneath the sluggish swaying of tree branches and ruffling wild, unruly locks of untameable hair. Freshly cut grass and dust lingered in the air, hovering heatedly our the hot tarmac, on the verge of sluggishly melting from the sweltering sun. Idle chatter loitered about, loud and squeaky, but still as quiet as it would ever get- napping bodies spread out on the nearby rolling fields, hiding in the light stretch of shade, the humidity proving too much for even the most chaotic of raving children.
Kicking his legs in the air, Tom pushed himself forward on the swing, rusty chain rattling and flaking off in his small palms. Pushing back and forth, the world spun around him, bright filterings of light seeping in through the large clutterings of leaves. Smears of distorted colour warped in front of his vision, leaving him slightly dizzy, but still craving the urge to continue- to be apart of the gentle, blue sky above. Laughter bubbled up in his throat, a genuine smile twitching at his lips, cheeks flushing as he snorted in amusement; a happy buzz leaping in his heart.
It was a shame that Tom couldn't bring himself to enjoy the moment.
Sitting solemnly next to him, Matt dragged his feet against the floor, disrupting piles of wood chips with the toes of his dirty sneakers. Swaying lightly from side to side, holes were dug into the soft soil, splattering dried bits of mud around in his gloomy mood. A harsh green gaze bore into the side of his pulsing neck, his heartbeat throbbing loudly behind his ears, tinting them a brilliant ruby red. Angry, slanted eyes burnt into his bandaged flesh, a usually soft, cheerful face twisted into a sick sense of grim sadness. Mouth pinched into a tight frown, it matched the hard furrowing of brows, a familiar baseball cap shadowing the top half of his concerned face.
"He hurt you again, didn't he?" Matt whispered. The question was spoken softly, slowly, although it gave off an underlining snarl of inner rage that sharpened the trail end of the question into an accusation- as though it was Tom's fault he had gotten injured again.
The thought alone made him tremble.
"No." Tom hushed back. It was supposed to have been said with a hard spoken confidence that rang with the obvious truth- what he got instead, however, was a shaky slur that wobbled at the corner of his lips.
He wasn't good at lying.
Only bad children lied, and he wasn't bad.
Was he?
With a probing finger, Matt leaned forward slightly on his swing, jostling the seat as he haphazardly fidgetted towards him. Tapping delicately at the white, sticky bandage that clung lopsidedly to the side of his throat, the pad of his thumb sunk down into the gooey mess sloppily hidden underneath.
"Lier." Matt accused, squinting at the little dip that was left behind in the gauze.
Flinching away, Tom whined, reaching up to cup the injured area with a quivering hold, "Can you just drop it?"
A heavy sigh left the other boys lips, flaring his nostrils and shuddering his chest in a way that only a person ten times his age could mimic. Shaking his head, wisps of ginger hair curled shyly around the chubby paleness of his face, chewing the inside of his cheek as he whispered, "You don't deserve this."
--
Escorted back through the winding, endless corridors of the medical wing, it bizarrely felt like as though he was simultaneously preforming a funeral march and walking into the open arms of a long craved for home. Hesitantly stalking towards the embodiment of his unbridled fears and finely tuned unease was severely contrasted with the fact that, despite everything- the white, open space, the sickly strong sterile scents and long, probing needles- he was actively running head first towards the man he secretly wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
That's pretty gay.
Meeting Pau stride for stride, they hushed muttered conversation between the slapping of bare feet and the dull clomping of leather boots. After a few moments of tearful laughter, Tom noticed that a few other soldiers roamed the halls, frowning at them with a hint of disgusted disdain, but saluting at their presence nonetheless, wide eyes refusing to meet their gaze.
Respect felt nice, Tom decided.
And then, with a sidewards glance at the other male, he determined that-
We ARE the homosexual agenda.
Rounding past a familiar corner, a bright blue fluorescent sign met them mockingly.
'HOSPITAL WING'
Only this time, Tom fulfilled his deliciously petty wish and flipped off the bold, white text.
With a quirk of an unruly eyebrow, Pau huffed a laugh, shaking his head as he muttered an empathetic, "Same."
Kindred spirits.
"McIntyre is such a Fittetryne." Pau added dryly, teeth showing from the wide grin that stretched across his face.
"Yeah, he is," Tom grunted, slipping on a convincing, matching smile. After a couple of seconds of tongue biting, he asked, "What does it mean?"
Wheezing, Pau licked his lips, wiping away the moisture that clung to the corner of his eye as he snorted, "A rough translation to English would be; cuntface."
A fellow man of culture, it seemed.
They were still gasping for breath by the time they finally reached the end of the hallway, coming to a complete shuffled stop at another closed room.
Rest Block D4
Slapping the wooden surface of the door, Pau angled his body so that he could peer down at the other male with heavy lids, "Red's resting in here- he should be alone, so no pressure."
"No pressure." Tom echoed quietly- perhaps if he repeated it enough times it would come to be true.
Leaning against the bleached white walls, Pau's larger body practically swallowed Tom's own with his overarching shadow. With a sheepish grin, he looked away, a rogue gloved hand reaching up to cradle the lower half of his unshaven face, "I'll try 'n' keep Pat out of your hair- he really needs to sleep sometime. It can't be good for his... Moods."
Nodding in understanding, Tom smiled, fidgeting his fingers absentmindedly, "Thanks, it means a lot- I really appreciate it."
"You know-" Sucking his teeth, Pau made a small squeaking noise as he thought, "If you ever get bored, or anything, I could show you around the kennels?"
Fast, warped black smears bounded ahead of him, loud, vicious barks crackling from their toothy, foaming muzzles- frenzied and violent.
Breathing in deeply, Tom pinched his expression to one of great pain, "I don't think-"
Jumping at the mood shift, Pau shook his head, large hands raised in a peaceful gesture, "We don't just have German Shepherds- there are a few Labradors, Border Collies, a Pug-"
Snapping his head up, Tom stared at him, black, murky eyes lit up like a string of fairy lights, "A Pug?"
Humming, Pau quirked one of his impressive eyebrows, "He's the best damn sniper we've got."
"He doesn't even have thumbs?!"
--
A/N: Whenever I write Kid!Tom scenes I'm just confronted with the fact that he's dressed up like a fucking minion.
That's the real child abuse here folks- lowkey minion cosplay. Disgusting.
This chapter's art was gifted by the lovely @kinkykoffee69 !!
That expression is me 98% of the time, ngl.
Thanks! <333