Sincerely

Thomas

Something that a lot of people don't know is that Thomas's name is actually Thomas Jr. Thomas has the same name as his father. Not only do they have the same name, they have the same eyes, same hair color, same temper, same favorite bottle of alcohol, and same hate for Thomas's mother. After she up and left for a man waving money over his dick, Thomas never even tried to contact her. After all, it's her fault why his dad beats him.

Since Thomas got his smile and optimism from his mom.

The only thing he hates more than his mom is how much she affects him. He hates to show any kind of weakness to shit that he can't control when health around people, so he does what he does best the second he's alone.

Be angry.

Instead of studying or doing his homework that he was supposed to do last weekend, or putting ice on the new bruise that he's gained from just pointing out that there's no food in the house, Thomas is awake at 10:32 PM, stabbing his mattress with a military knife that he stole from his dad's drawer. He huffs each time his knife slices through the foamy mattress, disappointed when the knife pops back up and shows no resistance to his anger. No screaming, no pushing away, no squirming, nothing. Thomas's tears burn down his cheek and he throws his knife across his bed and slams his head into his pillow again and again and again to make his thoughts just stop to make his anger be quiet to make everything just shut up shut up shut up shut up shut up-

"Fucking stop doing that." Peter whispers from his side of the room.

"Shut up and leave me alone." Thomas hisses back.

"It's your fault why Dad does this. I don't understand you sometimes."

"It's not my fucking fault!" Thomas says loudly, his voice straining from him crying.

A sharp noise of glass shattering against their bedroom door makes both of the boys tense and silent. They wait a few moments before loosening themselves.

"I'm not cleaning that." Peter grunts quietly.

"Then shred your fucking feet apart, see if I care." Thomas retorts.

Distant slurred grumbles from outside the door hush Thomas and Peter into a prolonged silence.

Sometimes when Thomas's dad gets drunk enough, he still calls Thomas "TJ". It confuses Thomas since it makes him feel almost vulnerable in a way. When his dad cries out TJ and bawls his eye out with a bottle in his hand, it cracks Thomas's heart. But whenever Thomas gets too close or slips up and loses his guard, his dads bottle is quick to crack against Thomas's skull. But no matter how much his father hits him, it never seems to knock any sense into him. It just knocks more and more of his fathers behavior into him.

"Do you want me to get you some ice?" Peter asks quietly.

"It's fine, I'll get some tomorrow." Thomas sighs and sits up in his bed.

"I have a kinda cold soda can." Peter insists.

"Keep it. It's fine." Thomas grunts through gritted teeth.

"How do you plan on covering that one up?"

"It's just on my arm, it's not that noticeable." Thomas says, hesitantly touching his raw bruise.

Peter's bed creaks as he quietly steps out of it and tip toes over to Thomas's. Peter climbs into Thomas's bed and carefully places the soda can against Thomas's bruise. Thomas sucks in a breathe and winces, but lets Peter anyways.

"I think Leeon has lunch in the auditorium." Peter whispers.

"What makes you think that?" Thomas asks, matching Peter's quietness.

"When I go to lunch, my room is right next to the auditorium doors. I always see Leeon walking away from the doors once I leave my class."

"You think Sin might be in there too?"

Peter nods and moves the soda can a bit, "Probably. Leeon wouldn't want to be seen with him around people. I told you they were dating."

"We don't know if they're dating."

"Then let's find out. Let's ask Cin."

Thomas snorts, "Right, like he's going to just tell us."

"You got a better fucking idea?" Peter asks.

"Shit will surface eventually. We just gotta catch them when they fuck up."

"That could take forever." Peter grunts.

"I don't mind waiting. It'll be worth it seeing those two faggots get torn apart by everyone in the school. Maybe they'll end up killing themselves so we never have to deal with them again."

Though Thomas's chest was still burning from all of the pent up anger in his heart, he smiled at the thought of two less parasites frolicking in their own sad excuse of happiness. Stomping out two pests is probably the most useful thing he can do.

And who is Thomas if he isn't helpful?