TMR Imagines and Preferences

He Cries in Front of You- Thomas

Thomas left early in the day to visit his friend and to go out to lunch. You had planned a shopping day with one of your own friends, and left just before Thomas was supposed to. You kissed him goodbye and left for the mall, where you were meeting Y/F/N. 

You shopped for about an hour and a half and went to three stores with your friend until your phone buzzed with a text from Thomas. Y/F/N sat her bags down and went to get a pretzel at the stand while you answered him. 

Thomas: Y/N, could you come to T/F/N's house please

Thomas: Y/N please

Thomas: I need you

The texts kept coming, so you knew it was some kind of emergency. Your friend said goodbye and you took your bags to the car, trying to get to Thomas's friend's house as soon as you could. The expressway was blocked off and you had to take a detour which added an extra thirty minutes to your drive. Eventually, you pulled up to the house, speechless with what you saw. 

There was an ambulance, a fire truck, and two police cars parked outside, all with lights on and flashing. Thomas was sitting on the front porch across from a police officer who was writing something in a notepad. You approached quickly, darting straight up the stairs to Thomas. His face was hollow and even though he was speaking, he sounded nothing like himself. His voice was dry and sounded like death itself had possessed him. 

"Tommy, what's going on? What are all of the paramedics and police here for? Are you alright?" Questions flew from your mouth and you searched all over his body trying to find any sort of injury. The police officer looked at you with an odd glance. 

"I'm his girlfriend, can you tell me what's going on here?" 

The police officer looked to Thomas first, then said, "I think it's better if he explains it. I'll be back shortly for the rest of the questions, for now just spend some time with your loved ones. " 

You were extremely confused with his words, looking to Thomas for an explanation. His face was blank and his eyes hazy as he stared straight ahead. 

"Where's T/F/N? I thought you were meeting him and going out to lunch?" 

"He's gone," Thomas croaked, his voice breaking along with your heart. 

"Wait, what? What is going on here?" 

Thomas looked at you with the most pitiful look in his eyes, and it took every ounce of strength he had to explain. "I left about a half hour after you did, and T/F/N texted me asking if I could just pick up some food and we could eat it here and play Call of Duty or something else. He said he wasn't feeling well enough to go out. I picked up our food and the front door was unlocked, so I went inside. He wasn't answering me, so I looked around the house, and-" Thomas stopped and gulped loudly. "And I found him. He was in the bathroom, slumped over on the floor. There were pills all over the floor and his arm was shredded from a razor blade. I shook his shoulder and splashed his face with water, but he didn't.... he didn't..." You took Thomas in your arms and held him tightly before he said anything else. He had been helping his friend with his depression and for the past few weeks, everything had been going uphill. It didn't take much for you to believe his story, though. This wasn't the first time, just the only successful one. 

Thomas held tightly to your waist and buried his face deep in your shirt. The two of you swayed silently on the porch with the ambulance sirens and distant words from police officers playing on an endless record in the background. 

Thomas hardly showed any emotion from that moment until the moment you took Thomas to your car to take him home. He was interviewed again and again and again, with you by his side, until the story was forever ingrained in your mind. There was a coroner who took the body away, and eventually all of the police, paramedics, and firemen left the house. All light faded away from the house until it was just a big, empty shell. You left Thomas's car parked in the driveway and led him to yours, helping him into the passenger seat. 

The drive home was silent. There weren't any words that could ease the pain, nothing seemed appropriate for the situation, which still seemed like a living nightmare to you. Once home you got Thomas out of the car and he headed up to the shower as soon as he got through the door. You took your shoes off, locked the door, and headed upstairs for bed. 

Sitting down on the side of the mattress, you sighed and let out all of the tension in your heart. The day's events sunk in, and you tried your hardest to think about anything but the thought of Thomas alone, walking in on his closest friend splayed across the floor. He stayed in the shower for ten, twenty, going on thirty minutes, and only then did you notice the steam coming out from under the door. The door was unlocked, so you knocked twice and went in. 

The entire room was filled with steam and Thomas was a tangled pile of limbs on the shower floor. His clothes were still on, and his skin bright red from the scorching water. You ran over as soon as you realized what he was doing and turned the water temperature to cool down his skin. 

"Thomas, baby, why are you doing this to yourself? Why? Baby come on, let's go to bed," you urged, pulling him to a standing position. He didn't move, but let you strip his clothes off. You took a towel and wrapped it around his naked body, leading him to the bedroom where you helped him put on a dry pair of boxers and a tshirt. 

He crawled into bed and wrapped a fist in the sheets, squeezing until his knuckles turned white. You peeled his fingers from the sheet and replaced it with your hand. He twisted and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. For the longest time, he said nothing, but you kept your hand wound tightly in his.

Finally, he spoke with his familiar voice, but it was broken. "Did- did I do something wrong? Was it my fault? Should I have gone there first? I could have stopped him, I could have stopped it-" You didn't let him continue to rip himself apart. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes and they fell without stopping. 

"Don't even think like that. This was not your fault at all, baby, this wasn't your fault. You did everything you could, you had been helping him for months when everyone else thought it was hopeless. You did everything right, but sometimes things just don't turn out the way you'd like. This is like a living hell, but I will be here the entire time, and I will never leave you. For now, we don't have to talk about it. You've said enough for now about the bad parts. He loved you so much, and he appreciated you so so much Tommy, believe me. He loved you almost as much as I do." 

His tears soaked the pillow and kept coming. Thomas turned over and embraced you in a hug, nuzzling his head in your shoulder. You stroked his hair and kissed his head over and over again, while his tears soaked your shoulder and the sheets beneath you. Sobs wracked his body and he held you tightly, as if the moment he let go or loosened his grip, he would lose you too. 

"You have been so brave Tommy, so so brave. And you're going to have to put on a brave face for the next couple of weeks, but I'll be there the whole time. I love you so much," you cooed in his ear. 

"I-I-I can't afford t-to lose you Y/N. I c-c-can't," he whimpered. 

"You won't baby. You won't ever lose me, you won't lose me baby don't worry. I promise, I'm right here. I am right here with you darling." 

His sobs softened and he kept one arm around your waist, but the other tangled itself in your hair. You fell asleep whispering songs in his ear and combing through his hair with your fingers, trying to keep his mind off of the day he had gone through, and all that he was to go through in the next couple of weeks.