Being a Barrow - A Sequel to Barrow's Boy

Behind the Broken

     When the date of Rosaine's funeral was announced as the following Sunday, Theodore used the Saturday to drive back to Downton and pick up an appropriate suit. Neither he nor Thomas had expected him to need one, after all. 

     "You look exhausted, Ted," Thomas commented as he followed Theodore up to his room.

    "If you're looking for a compliment," Ted quipped back, "that one is not it."

    "Why don't you stay the night? Take some time for yourself?"

    "I can't," Theodore insisted, no matter how much he wanted to say yes. "The funeral is tomorrow, and I need to be there."

    "But-"

    "Dad, please," Theodore insisted, "I will never forgive myself if I miss it."

     Thomas hummed, closing the door to Theodore's room behind them as they entered, the student going straight for his wardrobe. 

     "Are the other boys going too? Ashton and the lot?"

     "Yeah," Theodore replied, "we're taking my car."

     "Where's the funeral?" 

     "Canterbury, 'parently, that's where he was from," Theodore replied as he pulled out his black suit and looked it over. "Do you think it still fits?"

     "Oh, it's likely," Thomas replied.

     "My blue one didn't fit anymore-"

     "That's because you got your blue one when you were what- fourteen?" Thomas was quick to interrupt, exasperated tone and all. "And now you're eighteen and looking at a suit that I got you right before your last year of school here."

     Theodore tried very hard to not think of why that would be the timeframe for Thomas to get him a new, funeral-appropriate suit. 

     They were quiet for some time after that, Theodore starting to fold his suit to pack in his valise, only for Thomas to bat his hands away and do it himself. The action left the boy to awkwardly stand and wait, looking over the few items that still lived in the room. Despite it not having any chance of fitting him now, the old blue suit still hung in the wardrobe. Though he had replaced it, the sentimental value remained. 

      "There," Thomas announced as he finished his task. "Make sure you take it out and hang it up when you get back."

     "Right," Theodore replied. "Thank you."

     Thomas turned to look at his son, eyes going over him again.

     "If you're about to call me tired again-"

     "Be honest with me," Thomas cut his son off, placing a gloved hand on his shoulder. "Are you okay?"

     Theodore considered the question for a moment under Thomas' gaze, then turned his head away.

    "Well, classes can be tough-"

     "Theodore."

     Damn, Thomas could still see through that excuse.

     "Did I tell you that I watched it happen?"

    "Watched it?" Thomas inquired. Theodore turned to look back at him, shoulders shaking.

    "I was hanging on right next to him. When I think about it, I swear I can still feel the cold bar in my hands and the strain on my arms."

     As Theodore babbled, Thomas carefully led him to the bed, where they both sat on the edge.