The Flowers Within Our Reach ~ A Thomesa AU Story

| Chapter Eight

""It has always fascinated me, in a way. That we can simply look up at the sky to those millions of tiny points and feel so insignificant yet so alive at the same time. [...]""

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The night washes around the house as the sun gives away its spot to the moon in the sky, the soft light coming from outside turning the light inside the house slightly warmer, as the lights and the fire lit on the fireplace provide comfort.

Thomas is currently outside, his Father sounding asleep, already upstairs.

It soothes him, in a way, the calmness of the night. He doesn't know why, but as he sits close to the gardens and watches the clean sky ahead of him, Thomas can't help but think how much his life has changed.

He hasn't really gotten a chance to stop and think about it, with all honesty.

Even though it's been more or less than a month since he woke up inside that hospital room, he feels like his life has made a turn of 180 degrees.

He's been always on the high for the past few years. He's had everything he could ever ask for. Money; popularity; recognition, but he feels like he's never really stopped to think if that was exactly needed. Because he can have all that and much more and be unhappy for the rest of his life.

And now he's on the low, on the bottom of the scale, and he somehow feels that all he had during his whole life means nothing to him at the moment. He isn't currently able of doing one of the simplest things in the world and he has only realized at this moment, as he gazes up at the stars, that it's really on the simplest of things people should find happiness in.

Maybe that's why he calls Teresa. He's been feeling more alone these past few weeks, because he doesn't think he has the right to feel social and the very least happy when he's like this, trapped on that thing, unable to have his normal life.

There's no way he will talk to his Father, due to obvious reasons to him, but Teresa... he feels like he can trust her, and she's been more involved on his life recently than she ever had, which somehow has made him think that having someone to talk to might not be so bad.

So he calls her, and she gets outside a few seconds later, her hands crossed on her front.

"You called, Sir?"

"Yes." Thomas turns around, looking at her form illuminated by the moonlight. "Do you mind getting me my chocolate bars?" He asks, somehow shyly, and Teresa can't help but feel like he's somehow less cold, his eyes soft under the blue light of the night.

She nods with a small grin or her face. "I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, Teresa arrives and places the small box on the glass table next to him, excusing herself to leave him alone.

"Take one." He voices, opening the box himself, his back turned to her. Even though the night is seemingly dark - the only light coming from above and from the dim lights inside the house - Teresa can't miss the small smile that forms on Thomas' lips after his statement. Just a quirk of the corner of his defined lips, not big enough to be wide, but it leaves Teresa more at ease with the fact that he's somehow coming to his old self. She ignores the fact that his old self would never ask her such thing, but the way he acts is somehow similar to that.

So she stays in silence, eyeing him cautiously.

As if sensing her doubt, Thomas cranes his neck, sparing a look at her confused face.

This time, a wide smile makes its way into his lips. "Come on. I don't feel like eating all this chocolate all alone. Take some and take a seat." He remarks, somehow playfully, and turns back around, glancing up at the stars.

And so Teresa does as she is told, and she has to admit, the chocolate bars are definitely something out of this world.

"They taste pretty good." She comments, slightly amused. She never took Thomas for the appreciative of chocolate type of guy.

"They do, don't they? I think they've been the only constant in my life ever since I was a kid." He admits, his voice turning lower as he takes another one from the box. "It helps me get through tough times."

Teresa nods, not quite sure of what to say. She's new to this side of him, the side that opens itself and is incredibly nice to talk to. He's not being rude, or harsh, or grumpy. He's being the human Teresa always saw he is on the inside: calm, somehow funny, and full of vulnerability like everyone, if he gives in to it.

His eyes focus on the sky above them once again, his bright chocolate orbs shining in mesmerizing colors.

"Isn't it weird?" He speaks, somehow amazed. "How people wish upon a star not knowing that that same star might've been dead for millions of years now?"

Teresa is slightly taken aback by the rhetoric question, but some part of her understands what he means. Wishing upon a star that isn't shining anymore could mean several things, but as they're dead, so are the things people wish for.

"People seek comfort in the strangest of things." The young woman says, and Thomas nods his head accordingly, softly.

"That's true."

"But even if they're not shining anymore, doesn't mean that they are any less beautiful than they were before." Teresa mumbles under her breath, but Thomas hears it anyway.

He turns his head to her side gently, his eyes locking on hers and Teresa can't help but think that her statement might have a second meaning that applies to Thomas' own eyes. They don't hold that same glint they once held, but they're still as beautiful nonetheless.

Thomas doesn't think about those words holding a different meaning than to the topic at hand, but he can't help but notice how Teresa's blue eyes shine like stars that are already dead, the nebulas formed right after their explosion looking just like the blue flecks of color around her irises.

He sees nebulas in her eyes, and the knowledge that his heart skips a beat whenever he locks eyes with hers doesn't faze him as much as he thought it would. He feels at peace, in a way, because having this girl he had never laid eyes on (or thought about in a different way) next to him brings him a sense of calmness and grounding. As if he can see a clear road ahead of him that leads him to recuperation.

"That is also true." He whispers, and quickly adverts his eyes from hers when the overwhelming feeling of reassurance becomes too much. "I didn't know you liked those kinds of things." He comments, eating one last chocolate bar before completely leaning back on his chair, closing his eyes, relaxed.

"It has always fascinated me, in a way. That we can simply look up at the sky to those millions of tiny points and feel so insignificant yet so alive at the same time. I used to do that a lot." Teresa says, allowing a smile to form on her rosy lips as memories invade her thoughts.

Thomas' lips mirrors hers, because the feeling of talking to someone who doesn't see him as an invalid, and can actually hold a conversation without touching that topic evokes on him a surprisingly feeling of gratefulness and giddiness.

He opens his eyes, turning her way. "Why don't you?"

Teresa shakes her thoughts away from her mind upon hearing his voice. "What?"

"Why don't you do that anymore?"

"I don't have quite the time, I guess." She shrugs. "And it brings me memories I'd rather not recall."

Thomas nods knowingly before the two fall into an easy, comforting silence.

They never thought it would come so naturally, speaking to each other. But they keep talking like they are old friends, about everything and anything, and when the moon disappears from their sight and the night turns slightly lighter, the two make their way inside the house, and Teresa can't help but dread the moment his good mood vanishes and he shifts back to his rudder, angry-with-the-world self.

A/N

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