sun boy;; a dylmas fanfiction

Prologue

   Thomas was tired. 

         The blond's chest rose and fell softly with each reluctant breath that coursed through his lungs. He didn't want to be here, no, not in this bed, not in this house, in this relationship. It all made him not want to live. 

         If you were to ask the man why he remained here, in such a predicament, he would stutter and hesitate until the world simply came to a close. There was no answer in his brain, he had no idea.

         Lately, his only true constant was the sun. It fell and rose just as his chest did, never stayed in the same place for too long. The glorious ball of fire reminded him of his Co-Star, Dylan, as well. Bright, cheery, and thoughtful. How could such a bright, dazzling star be selfless enough to reveal itself, even for a few hours, just to allow all the little children to play under it? The moon would eventually come, nudge the sun out of sight. 

         Thomas often wondered where it went, even though, scientifically, it was a stupid question. The idea of it entertained him, gave him some sort of odd gravity. With these various thoughts came another: what if the sun was simply a beauty queen, longing for attention from the world, begging to be seen?

        

         She hurt him. Very much often, she hurt him. Abused him. 

         Their relationship had mutated from something of love to a war for dominance, an ugly, bloody war. No one, truly, could ever win, but she could never truly release her hold on Thomas. Though it might no longer be because of love, passion- Thomas stuck to her, clung to her yet stayed as far as possible. 

         His newest scar? A bruise, straight across his abdomen, from a hairbrush she'd thrown at him when he made no comment on her 'stunning' outfit. The old ones faded, new ones formed. The gash on his collar bone was almost healed, but the pain was worse with every passing second. 

         "Thomas," Jennifer's voiced poured smoothly down his sensitive back, like acid, it burned. His hands trembled, every word seeming more like a death sentence. "Get in here," the voice came again, dripping into his skull through his ears, through his eyes. It burned. 

         "Coming m'love," he forced himself out of bed, traveling the short distance to the bathroom where Jen stood. The man remained outside, trying not to tap his foot with all the nerves. The woman held a curling iron, her brunette locks wrapped around it, soaking in it's heat. 

         The heat. 

         Thomas's heart sped up, not daring to take a step into that bathroom. "Dinner tonight?" she hissed out, every word rolling off her tongue like the venom of a snake. "Yes, of course, my love. . ." the blond nodded quickly. 

         Carefully, the woman unwrapped the iron, letting her hair fall down in a single bouncy curl. Only her head- It was only her head that faced Thomas, eyes squinting devilishly. Without moving her feet, without turning to face him whatsoever, the malicious woman's eyes flicked to the outlet, then directly into Thomas's. 

         And in an instant, only 3 seconds, the burn was more real than ever before.