Black and White

23.0// Bag For Life //

"No! Y/N come back please! I'm sorry for fighting with you. Please don't go!"

"I'm sorry but I ha-"

"Y/N get in the car right now or-"

"Robert this is isn't right you can't just take the child!"

"Oh fuck you since when did she ever concern you"

Gunshot

Screaming.

"Y/N Y/N oh for the love of god please darling no......"

I woke up sweating and my clothes sticking to my body.

"Y/N! Y/N are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah....." I get up and walk over to the kitchen. Tom follows me. 

"Y/N are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah." I chug my water and turn my back to him.

I felt strong arms wrap my waist and Toms head sits on my shoulders.

"Darling please tell me what's wrong."

"It's fine. Just a nightmare."

"Y/N you've been having nightmares for the past week now."

"Yeah so...."

"Well I'm guessing it's the same dream every time. Just tell me what it is, maybe I can help."

"Look Tom, you're not a fucking therapist nor are you my psychologist. So just piss off ok?" I lash out.

I shrug him off and walk over to our room.

"Ok then." I hear him mutter.

I walk off to our bedroom, leaving him confused and hurt. A part of me felt bad but I needed space right now and I hate to admit it but Tom was right. I've been having this dream for the past week now and I don't know why. It keeps on coming up, its like a vital part of my childhood. Also, I've never been used to anyone actually CARING before. Like sure, my dad did, but he was so caught up in the mob that I couldn't really talk to him about school and boys. And I guess Shawn cares too, but that's like in a different way. He knows when to press on a problem and when not to. Tom knows he shouldn't me pressing my nightmare issue, but he still is anyway.

I clamber into head and face away from Toms side of the bed. Five minutes later I felt a dip in the bed. We didn't talk. Like at all. Which is completely different because one of us normally says something sarcastic to break silence.

I guess we cue the apology.

"Tom I'm sorry I snapped."

He turns around with a look of relief on his face.

"Finally you said something. I was afraid we were going to be in a fight or something."

"Why, because I'll win?"

"Shut up."

I turn around and he ends up spooning me, rubbing small patterns on my back.

"I don't want to annoy you, but could you please could you tell me the dream."

I sigh, "You won't let it go, will you?"

"Nope." I could feel him grinning against my neck.

"Ok then." I sit up and he does the same. I hold his hand.

"So I'm inside a house and my dad is dragging me away from these boys and these two adults who I'm guessing are the boys parents. And one the boys says 'Y/N come back, I'm sorry for fighting with you' and I'm like 'I'm sorry I have to go' and the female adult shouts at my dad and he goes like 'Fuck off' and I'm crying and this gunshot goes off and I think it shoots me because I hear my dad going 'Y/N, Y/N don't go, no. That's where this scar came from apparently." I show him the scar on the side of my stomach.