Regrets

Chapter 12 - Mister Brightside

Song: Mr. Brightside - The Killers

Thomas awoke in immense pain that morning, and despite his body screaming at him to stop, he slowly sat up on the surface he was laying on, only to realize it was a couch.

"Finally awake, Tommy?", a deep, raspy voice asked. Despite the harshness of it, it still managed to sound warm and welcoming, almost like a cackling campfire. It did warm him but he wouldn't want to get too close for the world. Thomas' head snapped towards the sound at the mention of the despised nickname, only to regret it seconds later when a hot white pain seared through his entire upper body.

"You", Thomas heaved, as if he had just climbed Mount Everest. He felt like he was about to hyperventilate due to the fact that he could only take short, small breaths because his ribcage hurt too much to take a deep breath.

"You gotta calm down, kid. I'm not gonna hurt you or anything", Marcus noted before taking another drag from the hand rolled joint he was holding.

"I'm aware. Just don't call me that", the boy hissed in reply before swinging his feet over the edge of the couch and leaning back against it, trying his best to ignore his aching limbs. He did it fast, in hopes it would work just like tearing off an old band aid. It didn't.

"What I'm wondering is where I am and how I got here", Thomas continued, his eyes closed and his head not even turned in Marcus' direction anymore. Instead, it lulled against the couch as if there was no bones in his neck anymore to support it.

For some reason, the boy seemed oddly comfortable, Marcus thought. He stood up from his seat near the kitchen window and dragged along the chair he had been sitting on as he made his way to the poor excuse of a living room. He turned the chair around so that the back of it was turned towards the couch, then proceeded to sit down again, this time backwards, his arms resting on the backrest of the seat. His eyes scanned the boy once more before he averted them to give attention to his joint once more.

"You're at my apartment. A friend of mine brought you here. Probably pitied you for... this", Marcus answered the questions Thomas had asked as shortly as he could, gesturing over to the boy's body as he did so.

"Why not a hospital? Why didn't either of you call an ambulance?", Thomas replied, gritting his teeth as another pang of sharp pain shot through his body.

"Do you want me to call an ambulance?", Marcus asked as he looked at the boy with an expectant expression.

"No... no, I don't want you to call an ambulance. I was just wondering", Thomas muttered, his voice seeming somewhat shaky now.

"I can't afford the bills nor the attention. I don't know why Michael didn't, though. But you can ask him when he drops by later to check up on you", Marcus stated after a short pause, before changing the topic swiftly. "Anyway, I can only do so much with bandages and band aids from a first aid kit. The wound on your head definitely needs some medical treatment, maybe even stitches", Marcus told the kid, unfazed by Thomas' horrified expression.

"That bad?", he asked fearfully before starting to inspect all of his body with his hands, trying to understand if something was permanently damaged. He even traced his tongue over all of his teeth, but there luckily was no gap to be found, just the lingering pain and the taste of old metal, that either came from blood or from licking an old coin.

"I still have some ibuprofen somewhere, if you want? Not sure if it's still good though", Marcus mentioned, causing Thomas to look up at him.

"Yeah, thanks. Some morphine would be a bliss", he laughed but stopped soon after as it caused him too much pain to endure, instead opting for a few short coughs.

Marcus gave him an undefinable look before nodding and standing up, leaving towards the kitchen to get the painkillers he had offered.

Thomas stared after him like a lost puppy, trying to decipher his current situation. It wasn't everyday he woke up at a stranger's house all beat up, after all.

"Here", the cup of water and the dark skinned hand with some unidentified pills seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, but Thomas took both items without question.

The water was disgusting, he wasn't used to it, so his gag reflex almost made Thomas spit it out right away. But he didn't want to seem rude, and so he swallowed the unholy taste of dirt and chlorine along with the medicine.

Marcus watched the scene playing out before him. It was just like James' initial reaction to drinking the apartment's tap water for the first time. A small smile found its way onto Marcus lips, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come and left no trace of amusement behind on his face.

"You can stay here if you want to. There's a room you can use. Tap water is free but I won't provide for you. This isn't a charity. But I won't set you out on the street unless that's what you want. In that case, door's open", Marcus stated, his expression somewhere in between cluelessness and amusement.

Thomas looked at Marcus indecisively. Sure, a bed to sleep in sounded nice and this man had helped him out with the injuries too. That Thomas trusted him for whatever god damn reason, both of them knew from the moment the kid had swallowed the pills without further questions. But...

"Mister... what's your name?", Thomas looked expectantly at the dark skinned man in front of him, who just smiled in return.

"It's on the doorbell panel at the frontdoor"