Forever and ever 2. The adventure starts now.

Part 102.

Tom's pov~

I've been involved in tons of fights over the past few years, knew how to help myself, and deal with the occasional wounds resulting from them—like Paddy's blow that led to a gash, splinters in the palm, and broken noses. So yeah, I knew how to handle injuries. But this scratch from a glass shard seemed to have cut deeper than I initially thought. I lifted the hem of my sweater and wiped the tear with rough paper towels when the door opened, and someone stepped in to use the urinal behind me.
Listening to someone pour their clumpy drinks of the day out wasn't particularly pleasant, but I was too focused to be bothered by most noises anyway.

"Ah fuck," I cursed, gritting my teeth at the sudden searing sensation coursing through my entire body. The seven-centimeter-long tear was causing more damage than I'd anticipated. It felt like my rib was swelling up more than the throat of someone with a nut allergy.

As the person finished and I heard the zipper being pulled up, I realized I needed to step aside at the sink. Although there were three sinks in a row, I instinctively took a step back when I turned to look at the person. Who else but one of my brothers could have been sent by fate?

His eyes lingered only hesitantly on my upper body as he let the water run, meticulously scrubbing his hands until not a speck of mud remained beneath his nails.

I furrowed my eyebrows and stared longer than he deserved. Yet, there was something in his gaze that emitted, for the first time that evening, a sense of concern closer to worry than venom and fire.

I halted mid-action, sensing that the room was on the verge of transitioning from uncomfortable silence to tense anticipation.

"Dab it, don't wipe," he pointed at the wound, offering me... help? His gaze lingered on the swollen area, almost resembling a hint of regret. But he didn't regret shit. He had intentionally smeared the mud, but the shard inside had been an unintended misfortune. And that again did trouble him as he dried his hands with paper towels, discarding them into the trash afterwards.

I wasn't sure whether to express gratitude or make a comment. On one hand, he seemed to feel something for me, otherwise he wouldn't have helped me. On the other hand, it was his artwork etched on my skin, and I shouldn't thank him for that.
"Thanks." I muttered, firm in my decision. Things were already complicated between us; I didn't want to make them any more difficult.
He nodded, then left the bathroom.

More people didn't enter, which suited me fine because I couldn't need any stupid questions asked.
It wasn't one of the fanciest restaurants we'd been to, more of a middle-class place, which meant my mom still wanted to look her best, for... whoever.
I headed back to the table, feeling like I couldn't clean the scratch any further. Yet, before I could even get there, Y/N was standing in front of me.

"And? Did you manage to clean it?" she asked, tugging at the hem of my sweater in the middle of the restaurant, trying to give everyone a good view, but I quickly pulled the fabric down before anyone got the chance to. Cursing under my breath.
"Shit- not here." I told her, looking around and seeing Sam entering through the door. Lily in his arms, trying to get out of his grip.

"Fine. But I don't need to worry about you catching an infection, do I?" She was really overprotective, which I saw as an advantage in some ways, but it could also be really exhausting. Sure, I appreciated her concern, but there wasn't much more we could do at the moment. I nodded, glancing around at the people surrounding us.
"Well, you're in the mood to talk." Sarcasm lingered her tone, a nuance I only picked up moments later. I remained tense, still waiting for Lea to follow my brother, but the door didn't open again, which struck me as odd because Sam and Lily were already seated at the table. Glancing back at Y/N, I noticed her arms crossed, looking slightly offended, her gaze fixed on the tiled floor.

"I'm sorry." I apologized, gently nudging her chin up with my index finger and tilting my head to give her a tender kiss on the lips.
Her lips were as soft as butter could be, yet the kiss didn't last too long when a waiter bumped into me on his way to a table.

As much as I wanted to catch sight of the face that rudely bumped into me, Y/N caught my gaze first.

"I'll just head to the restroom too. Don't get into any mischief!" She teased, winking as she squeezed my hand, and disappeared into the women's restroom. I ended up taking the only available seat next to Sam, as the other one was next to Paddy, which meant engaging in conversation with my father.
And while things were chill between us, I tended to have the feeling he was judging my relationship with Y/N—or rather, judging me. I didn't want to know what he might have heard or knew about me, but I was certain it was more bad than good.

I sniffed, pulled out the chair, and took my seat. Everyone else was already engrossed in conversation except Sam. I had no choice but to find a topic to discuss, and although there were numerous questions I could have asked—like how his cooking event went or what the latest news was—all I could think of was one question.

"Where did you leave your little girlfriend?" Despite my attempt not to sound repulsed, I doubted my faux smile hid it well. But Sam didn't seem to notice as he held his daughter's tiny hands and played with her.
"She had some sisterly emergency," he replied, unfazed by the situation. But I believed it bothered him more than he let on. At least he gave me a reasonable answer, which still surprised me. I vaguely recalled Y/N saying she was an only child. It might have been five years ago since she mentioned it, but I remembered.

"Sisterly emergency?" I questioned, curious.
"Yeah. She's going through a breakup. Something with cheating or like that." He said. It was almost sad how conspicuously she made it, and I should have felt sorry for my brother. But how could one be so oblivious not to realize how badly they were being used? Without evidence, though, I couldn't say anything. Who would he believe more, his brother whom nobody trusted, or his girlfriend, who was a genius at gaslighting? I nodded and let the topic sink. It was only after dinner that I excused myself to make a call outside.

The line didn't ring three times before the other end picked up, and who was there better with technology and tracking?
"Hey man. Can you do me a favor?" I asked,
"Well, look who needs a Hero now!" He chuckled.