Love [Tomione]

Chapter 6: Living with the enemy

Hiemality burnt. The stale smell of cheap soap that had seeped into the air. Blurry waves of textured grey walls that held him.

Tom had a fixed morning routine at Wools.

Wake up at the mandatory 5 am. Shower by 5.10. Breakfast at 5.30. Off to school at 6.30.

He always put on his uniform neatly. Thinning shirt on. Trousers that were always too short for his long legs, pulled up. Tie tied. Pulling on the hideous coat. All in shades of grey.

"Tom?" Pretty braids. Auburn hair. A speck of freckles under her eyes. " Could you help me hold my bag? I want to tie my shoelaces. It's untied."

His name sounded so foreign. His tongue felt dry.

No other child at the orphanage had ever called him by his first name. What came out was either 'Riddle' or famously ' The Freak'.

He said nothing, blinking expressionlessly while grabbing the bag. The girl tilted her head up and smiled gently. Her tiny fingers nimbly fixed the loosened strings of her shoes.

"Thank you...Tom." She said in a hushed tone, taking the bag before skipping away to join the growing line of children at the end of the hallway.

He watched the tight braids bounce off her toned back. How she started giggling with the girls... What was their name again? Right, Betty and Lily. He catches the curve of her pink lips.

"Tom! Well, what are you standing there for?" The matron shouted across, breaking the symphony of giggles and chatter from the children.

Swallowing hard, Tom sauntered across the hallway with carefully calculated steps while tiny eyes watched.

A mantra was etched to the back of his mind: ANSWER QUESTION. FOLLOW THE ORDERS. NO LINES ON YOUR SKIN THEN.

"I'm s-sorry, Mrs Cole." Tom stares at her with a pouty look, baring his best puppy eyes. "For not paying attention."

" Do as you were told." She sharply told him." This is the last time I have to remind you, Mr Riddle. One more step out of the line and I won't be lenient on you."

The fixed walk to the canteen was slow. He was sandwiched in between the boys. He remembered the familiar comments spouted behind and in front of him. Fresh adolescent comments. " Can't Adam and Eve Missus Cole would evar forgive that Riddle twat!"

"Wanker freak." A gruff voice grunted at him while towering over him." -Dink yer too good for us, innit?"

Tom did not reply. Doing so simply meant inconvenience. If he stayed quiet like a freak should, he would be left alone.

His eyes fixated on the developing masculinity in front of him, for he wished he did not have to tilt his chin up to face the sneers on their gaunt, sunken faces.

After a quick wash of their hands with slippery ivory soap, they made their seats.

" Settle down, children!"

Their bums plonked down on the worn-out wood. Tom took a quick seat at a corner of the table, his hands on his lap. He lets his mind run free, facing the peeling wall above. A soft clunk aroused his attention from the asbesto. It was the girl from earlier with the red braids.

"Hi." She said, giving him a small grin.

"Hello." He said simply.

Usually, he would ignore them, the children that were around him. He had always felt...they were filthy. However, this girl was different. The way she talked, the way she presented herself...he was eager to find out why.