Welcome To The Media (Dylmas AU)

29. Welcome to My Home

26 days remaining

Thomas's pov

Elijah curled up next to me on the couch, her face smushed against the plumped-up pillows. A small smile rested on her face as she looked at me with her big green eyes. She looked ridiculous--the seemingly angelic expression she wore hardly matched the Elijah I knew and loved. I couldn't help but mirror her grin as I silently reminded myself of all the mischief her round eyes had witnessed. She was hardly a saint.

Elijah blinked. Without removing her gaze from mine, she reached out and grabbed my palm, carefully holding it up to examine it between us. It was like she was seeing it for the first time, like she had misread the lines of my palm and now had to relearn everything she thought she knew.

"I'm glad you told me, Tom," she spoke softly. Her calm tone made me relax, lifted a weight from my chest.

"Me too," I replied in a tone just as soft. "I just felt like I've been lying to you. I don't like lying to my best friend."

Elijah giggled quietly and dropped my hand. "I'd hardly call it lying. It's more like you decided to leave out the truth for a little while. I can't exactly blame you."

"You're the only person who knows," I admitted.

Elijah sat up. The couch cushions shifted as she fully angled her body to me, her pajamas pulled and ruffled. The light of the dying lamp lit shadows across her skin, and as she fixed her clothes back into correct position, my eye caught a particular shadow hidden just beneath her collar bone. I frowned.

"So you're gay. My best friend is gay. That's cool," Elijah said almost to herself. "Oh my god, we can look at hot guys together now!"

But I hardly processed her words, still staring at the place on her shoulder. It didn't sit well with me, for some reason. Instinctively, I reached out to push her shirt out of the way again.

"What are you--"

I interrupted her though as a gasp slipped past my lips. Her collarbone wasn't covered by a shadow at all. My mouth falling open, I stared at the dark bruise she wore. It was a deep purple, the color of a ripe plum, and looked to be a few days old.

"How did you--"

"At football practice," she said, pushing her shirt back up and scooting a few inches away from me. She hid her face with her hair and she looked at anything but me--a clear sign that she wasn't telling me the truth.

A horrible realization washed over me and my stomach clenched. "Your dad didn't--"

"It was an accident, Tom. He was drunk again, he didn't mean to," Elijah rushed to explain, throwing her lies behind her as I evidently guessed correctly. She looked up at me desperately, her face so full of anguish and wrenching hope that I couldn't help but consider her words.

"That's no excuse, Eli. He can't--"

"Can we please just forget about it? We were talking about you." Elijah pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around herself. I had never seen her look so small.

I hesitated. I didn't want to just let it go.

"If it were bad Tom, I would tell you. It was an accident. He didn't mean to hurt me. Please just don't worry about it."

Maybe it was the late hour, or the fact that I was still emotionally a wreck after just coming out, but I couldn't help but resign myself to her desperation. "Are you sure?"