(tw) and pretend it's all okay [tommy]

[fitz01]

It wasn’t hot enough. It would never be hot enough to sterilize her body from what had just happened. Ella turned the knob for hot water as far as it could go and she let it scald her, for a few moments before she got used to it and let it sweep over her naked body like a cleansing flood. She kept her head tilted upward as she let the water kept running over her, taking off the dried blood that had clung to her body all of these short hours. It was all she had left of him now and she couldn’t stand to keep it. She couldn’t quite remember what happened, but she remembered his words. I love you. I do. It rung in her ears and it was as if she’d never hear another thing again and, honestly, she didn’t really want to. After what felt like an eon standing there, passively showering, she plucked up the courage to look down at her body and found that some of it just refused to leave her be, begged her to let her blood join it and she took her Japanese Cherry Blossom body wash and put an abnormally large blot on her hand and worked it into a lather, rubbing it up and down her arms and then her legs, scrubbing and rubbing, wishing that this would all be over, right now.

Finally, it left her skin as pale as it had been originally. It was the final nail in the proverbial coffin – he was completely gone. She had nothing of him to even touch, save the necklace he had given her earlier in the week. Maybe one day that will be enough; maybe, one day, that will satisfy her need. One day, but not today. She sighed, washing her hair with her Aussie-brand shampoo and hoping she didn’t miss anything. The last thing she needed was to wake up in the morning and see some of him left. It wouldn’t be a comfort then. She stepped out of the shadow and wrapped herself in one of the fluffy white towels she had brought from home. She stood in front of the mirror and just stared at her reflection for a minute or so and she wasn’t sure what to make of it.

Ella moved into her room and made an effort to dry her body and then her hair, taking out her jimjams and setting them on her ready-made bed. She had requested that she stay in her dorm that night, that her parents just come pick her up in the morning because she really just wanted to be alone. She promised them that she would be fine and they seemed entirely unsettled, but they agreed. It was the kindest thing they could have done for their daughter at that point – she needed to work through this herself and no amount of cuddling would bring her to any sort of epiphany. She pulled her pjs on and looked over on her dresser at the wishbone necklace and, even though she thought she couldn’t possibly cry anymore, the tears came and she snatched it up, holding it close to her face, trying to make it become an adequate substitute for his touch, his presence.

It wasn’t. Nothing ever would be.

She put it on her nightstand, a place where she could stare at it and torture herself slowly to sleep with Tardis wrapped tightly in her arms. Her bed had never felt so empty. Her heart, just as well. She had been more exhausted than she thought because as soon as her head hit her pillow, it seemed, she was out like a light. Resting, however, was definitely not what was happening here. She tossed and turned, throwing her covers off of her as she dreamed, mumbling in her sleep and a cold sweat began. With a gasp, she sat up, her heart racing and her body shivering. She grabbed her phone and dialed the one person she knew for a fact wouldn’t be upset with her for waking them up at an ungodly hour in the morning: Tommy. The phone had rang a couple of times and he finally picked up. ”I hope I didn’t wake you up. I just had a weally bad dweam.” She was still catching her breath as she went on. ”It was just howwible. I had a dweam that Bwody died. It was just….so weal.” He had told her to sit tight, that he’d be right there, and she raised an eyebrow, not going to question him coming over. ”Well, alwight. I’ll see ya when you get hewe.” She hung up the phone and set it back in her nightstand and she looked at the comforter that had been thrown off of her body and she trembled more, covering herself with it for a while as she waited for Tommy to get here. What was he so concerned about?

It was only a dream.

After what had to be less than fifteen minutes later, there had been a knock on her door and she sprung up and answered it, smiling at her friend on the other side. She opened it wide enough to let him in and once he had came into her room, she shut the door. He seemed off, somehow and she let out a nervous chuckle. ”You got hewe fast, Mo. You didn’t need ta wush on my account. Aftew all, it was only a nightmawe.” She and Brody had plans for that night; he was going to come over to her room and they were going to sleep her, together, and she wasn’t sure why he wasn’t here tonight or why she wasn’t over there. Surely there was a reason. Maybe he and Thatch were doing some brotherly stuff and she didn’t want to get in the way of that. Yeah. That must have been it. She furrowed her brows together, concern permeating her every feature, and sat down on her bed and patted the space next to her for him to sit down. ”What’s wong, Tommy?”

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IDEFK WORDS | COMPLETE/INCOMPLETE | TAGS: TOMMY | OUTFIT
LYRICS BY SKILLET | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
I APOLOGIZE FOR HER OMFG

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[tommy]

Come on look me in my bloodshot eyes

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=width: 250px; height: 290px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 5px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; color: #333; line-height: 99%; overflow: auto] Tommy fell asleep just a few short hours before Ellalu called. He'd tried to go to bed at ten o'clock, unreasonably early for him, but ever since Pastor Rob called him and told him the news, he'd been pacing his room, writing out whole pages in his notebook and ripping them up (breaking one of his first writing rules to never destroy what you've created), and trying to figure out what to pray. That was the whole reason Pastor R called him, after all. He knew Tommy was friends with both Frankie and Ella, and he wanted him to be ready in case they needed him. And he just kept repeating that he should pray. "Be strong in your faith, Tommy. Just keep praying for Brody's family, and keep praying for the Constantines. And I'll be praying for you." That last bit confused him. Why the heck would Pastor R pray for him? He was barely involved, really. He'd known Brody, but only through Ella and Frankie. He'd been a cool guy, and he felt really sad that the guy was gone, but that wasn't what kept him from sleep; he was pacing and writing and gritting his teeth out of worry for Ella and Frankie. Although to be fair, he told himself, he'd known them a lot longer, and knew them each better. He'd turned his desk light off and sat on his bed, folding his hands together and pressing them against his forehead, letting out a deep sigh. It was dark, but he couldn't sleep. His thoughts were aimed up, but he couldn't think of anything of worth to pray. But he did it anyway: God, be with Frankie and Ella. Be with them and don't leave. And hold tight to Brody because I know he's with you. Give them strength. And help them feel your love." It felt trite and unimpressive, and it didn't make him feel like he was helping. He knew he wouldn't be much help tonight and he was only stressing himself out, so he laid his head down and tried to focus on the little night-noises his roommate made, to take comfort in at least not being alone in his dorm. Finally, around midnight, he fell asleep. It was dreamless, and when his phone rang it felt like he'd been asleep for maybe two minutes, not two hours. He fumbled for it, at first reaching below his bed where he usually kept it but then having to fight through a sea of covers to find it tangled in amongst his sheets. He mumbled a groggy hello but rubbed at his eyes and managed some clarity of thought when he realized it was Ella. A bad dream. Tommy let out a long breath, told her to stay where she was, and he hung up the phone. He realized as he flicked the desk lamp on and struggled into his shoes that he should have stayed on the line, not given her that time alone, but he wasn't going to waste time by calling back. He had to hurry. He had to get there, in case she realized what was happening and freaked out before he got there. It was a long run from here to Dulc, and his knee was mostly healed, but not enough he particularly wanted to risk it. He glanced over at his roommate's desk, to his roommate's keys. Oh, man. He really, really, really didn't want to be seen on a Vespa. Especially in the middle of the night in his jimjams. Oh, jeez. Tommy scrawled a desperate note and left it on Felix's nightstand with a pack of cookies on top: Emergency. Stealing your bike, I owe you big. xoxo, Tommy. He came to the conclusion, about halfway to Ella's dorm, puttering along at about 30 MPH on a Vespa scooter in plaid PJ pants, that he probably had time to change, and he probably didn't need to sign the note to his roommate with x's and o's. Tommy had a habit of realizing he'd embarrassed himself much too late to actually fix it. He waved to a couple as he passed them, trying not to look as mortified as he felt. He was on a mission. Soon enough he'd parked and ran up the steps to her floor because he was too anxious to wait for the elevator. He knocked on the door and waited, and when it finally opened he walked right inside before she was even done speaking. Where was Rose? They'd really left her here all alone? Tommy shifted his backpack off of his shoulder and let it slide to the floor before he sat down on her bed. "Luau, I..." His eyes searched her face for understanding. He found none there, and he shook his head at her. "Your parents called PR. And he called me and told me everything." He reached out to her, but his hand stopped halfway between them, caught in the awkward space. He let it drop back down to his lap, interlocked his hands as if to pray, and kept his eyes trained on hers. "Ella, it's." He scrunched his face and closed his eyes for a moment. He didn't want to do this to her. He didn't want to hurt her like this. But he couldn't just let her keep looking all concerned and unaware. He will call upon me and I will answer; I will be with him in distress. He nodded his head and opened his eyes to look at her again. "It just...It wasn't a dream. Brody's gone, and I'm sorry I have to tell you that, but..." He looked down at his interlocked hands and pulled them apart, ready to assist her, as if worried she might faint and he should be ready to catch. Suddenly he didn't mind the idea of Pastor Rob praying for him anymore. In fact, he was starting to hope for it. Tommy figured he just might need all the help he could get. [/style]

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[fitz01]

The hurt didn’t hit her at first. She just looked at him, confused; why did he think that was a funny thing to say? Why would he lie to her like that? Why would anyone say such a horrible thing about such a nice person? She looked away, shaking her head. ”No. No, that’s not twue.” Ella just couldn’t figure out what would possess Tommy to make him say such a horrid thing. Brody couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t be. But what if he were telling the truth? She looked back at Tommy, the hurt rather evident on her face. It wasn’t true, was it? But that would explain why that nightmare seemed so real – the nightmare was real and there was no waking up from it. Tears started to well up in her eyes as she shook her head more. ”No, but he was just hewe. We – he was just….just hewe.” She brought her hands up to her head and leaned forward, feeling incredibly sick. She just didn’t want to believe it, but what Tommy had said made sense and she had never known him to lie, especially when it involved their pastor, when she could get someone else to confirm or deny what he was saying was true. He had no reason at all to lie. But it couldn’t be true.

It all started coming back to her then.

She could see it all so vividly. Ella wrapped her arms around her stomach, continuing leaning forward as she began to sob harder than she ever wanted to in front of anyone. For her, this was just placing a burden on someone, but there was nothing she can do to control it. She didn’t have a snowball’s chance to keep herself in emotional check; it was all so overwhelming, so intense and she couldn’t keep it in. After a minute or two, she turned her head to look at Tommy, trying to make sure to breathe. ”Thewe was...s-so much blood and I just, I-I panicked.” She put her hands back on her face, her rubbing her forehead with the tips of her fingers, the tears still rolling down her face. ”I didn’t.” She said it softly, still trying to take all of this information in, trying to make herself realize that Brody was in fact gone.

Of course he was. She was there. How could she ever forget?

”I…didn’t save…him.” She put a hand over her mouth and looked over at Tommy again, shaking her head. ”I couldn’t…even do that for him.” She put her hands in her lap, still sobbing rather violently, looking around her room. ”Why wasn’t it me?” She couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around how that was fair at all, why a boy so full of life and love to give and promise would be ripped away so violently, so soon after starting life, when there she was, feeling like she were already dead, not having much hope at all, nothing but dead weight. How was that fair to the world? Without any warning, she wrapped her arms around Tommy’s body, putting her face into his shoulder. The one thing she wanted right then was to be told that this was all just an awful, elaborate hoax and Brody was hiding in some vehicle with Ashton Kutcher, but that was never going to happen.

He was dead. He was dead. He was dead.

With that thought, she clung to him tighter. It wasn’t enough to squeeze the life out of him, but it was enough to make her feel somewhat comforted. Her body shook from the breaths she attempted to take. ”Why did this…have to happen? What good does this do?”

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IDEFK WORDS | COMPLETE/INCOMPLETE | TAGS: TOMMY | OUTFIT
LYRICS BY SKILLET | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
I APOLOGIZE FOR HER OMFG

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[tommy]

Come on look me in my bloodshot eyes

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=width: 250px; height: 290px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 5px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; color: #333; line-height: 99%; overflow: auto] Tommy has never really known Brody. They were in different grades, had very few interests in common, and rarely ran in the same circles. The only things they'd really had in common was Ella and Frankie. But from what Tommy could tell, Brody was a genuinely good guy. Not the brightest bulb, but a sturdy, reliable one, which he reminded himself was just as important. If Brody was a scumbag, he could take solace in the idea of escape, that Ella was free to be happy now, but there wasn't even that small consolation. He wrapped his skinny arms around Ella instinctively, trying not to think about how just earlier this week he'd worried hugging her might cause Brody some anxiety and had thereby abstained. Now there were no feelings to hurt. He was pretty sure he didn't believe in ghosts, and he was much surer that a guy like Brody was already in heaven. He pulled Ella close so her forehead pressed gently against his chest, and pulled her back with him as he laid against her pillows. He could already feel her tears through his thin shirt and began to stroke her hair from the top of her neck and down her back, thinking that comforting a girl wasn't all so different than comforting Eddie during fireworks, only the feeling of dampness on his chest came from tears instead of a flow of dog saliva from endless anxious panting. "You know I couldn't joke about that," he said as gently as he could. Her sobs wracked her body but shook his only like a distant earthquake; his thoughts were racing with casualties. Did someone leave Frankie alone, too? He'd be with Thatcher, wouldn't he? How many other people were sobbing in their beds tonight because of Brody? He wished he'd known the guy better, if only so he could feel justified in cowing to the magnitude of the moment, because mourning, in this moment, seemed easier than comforting. Tommy closed his eyes and tried to remember to breathe. He had to be strong for her, a beacon of some kind of comfort in a situation he knew had no chance of accepting it. "As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world." He continued petting her hair, unsure of what else he could do. He wanted to crack some stupid joke, to see her smile, but he doubted he'd see her joyful again for a while--he just prayed it would be soon, and any permanent damage would be minimal. "He's not hurting anymore," he continued. "He's in Heaven where he's safe and warm and happy, and more himself than he ever got to be here on earth." Oh, gosh. He was almost reciting the speech his dad gave him when their last dog died. But it was just as true for humans, right? Maybe even more true. It was too quiet when he stopped talking and Tommy wondered a second time where Ella's roommate was. He was trying not to be angry that Ella had been left alone, was trying to convince himself All Things Happen For a Reason and that she was left alone so he could, God willing, offer her proper Spirit-filled comfort, but all he was thinking about was how scared she'd have been if his phone had been on silent and she had to remember all of it all by herself. His next prayer was a thank-you, and his breath caught a little as he mouthed the words silently up towards the ceiling. This was terrible, all of it was awful and painful and it shouldn't have happened, but there were small blessings. There were always small blessings. [/style]

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[fitz01]

Helpless was the only word she could have ever thought to describe herself as. The world she loved was never going to be the way it was ever again, and it only took a few minutes to render it that way, and there wasn’t a single thing fair about that. Ella laid her forehead on Tommy’s chest and continued to sob, violently. This was probably the only thing anyone could do to help her, just be there, make her feel like maybe she wasn’t as alone as she felt. She felt like she was the only human being left on earth, that she’d never feel any single shred of happiness again, that misery and despair would haunt her for all eternity. This wasn’t what she was promised. This wasn’t what she signed up for. She clung tighter to him, turning her head so that her left cheek laid where her forehead used to be. While she attempted to breathe through her sobs, she shut her eyes, listening to him speak, trying to find some semblance of solace in the words.

He was in a better place, happy. She wasn’t even certain of that anymore. Ella couldn’t help but question every ideal she held dear at this point. What kind and loving God would put someone like Brody through what he had been through? What kind and loving God would allow such a beautiful person to die on the cold, hard ground like he was roadkill? If there wasn’t a kind and loving God, how many other lies had she been told growing up in that church? Maybe there wasn’t a Heaven, or a Hell. Maybe the human just made of stardust and were a complete accident. Every little thought made her feel more and more ill and she opened her eyes, looking up at him. ”How can you be so cewtain?” Her sobbing had gone from hysterical to manageable at this point and the question was one that brought back painful memories of Brody, of faith that she once held near and dear but, now, she hardly had a grasp on. Ella felt like she knew what he was going to say - she had been in church her entire life and she understand the ideology pretty well - but she just couldn’t believe, couldn’t trust anything she couldn’t see. Not right now. ”He pwomised He wouldn’t fowsake us. W-what is this?” She laid her head back down on his chest, staring at her wall, body still heaving every now and again. There were so many thoughts speeding through her head, every single one of them too loud for her to handle. Why did this have to happen? Why him? Why anyone? Why?

”You awen’t going to leave me, wight?” It was as though she had regressed to a five year old. Her voice was soft and trembling, just trying to find the words she wanted to express through the jumble in her mind. Looking back up at him, she wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand quickly, trying to see him clearly just to make absolutely certain that he wasn’t just a dream too. Her grip on him was a tight one, desperate to hold someone, to be held in return and it hadn’t loosened any. Once she had settled herself slightly, it was a bit comfort to realize and know that someone actually cared enough to come over and deal with her in such a state. It was an embarrassing thing for her because, usually, she was the one who had to be the shoulder to cry on, had to be the strong one for those who were hurting and couldn’t manage it themselves. This role that she found herself in now wasn’t one she was fond of, but it wasn’t something she could crawl out of now, no matter how badly she might want to.

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IDEFK WORDS | COMPLETE/INCOMPLETE | TAGS: TOMMY | OUTFIT
LYRICS BY SKILLET | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
I APOLOGIZE FOR HER OMFG

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[tommy]

Come on look me in my bloodshot eyes

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=width: 250px; height: 290px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 5px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; color: #333; line-height: 99%; overflow: auto] I'm not certain - that's what Tommy wanted to say. But he couldn't. He just couldn't do that to her. He could never go so far and say he was absolutely definite on anything in life, really. But he knew what he believed. "It isn't...God doesn't want us to hurt. Or die. When we hurt He hurts. And when we die we get more than this life. Eternal life." He paused. "What that horrible person did wasn't God's will. It was Free Will, but God will make things good again. He will. He always does." His voice was cracking. He was trying so hard to believe his own words. What good was free will when everyone just fought and stabbed and killed each other? Tommy sighed. He was 15 years old. The most he'd fought for in his short semblance of a Faith Journey was amongst classmates, infrequent and unimportant, and other times against the doubts in his own mind. He wasn't used to trying to be strong against the doubts of other Christians, let alone Ella, who had always had the sort of eyes-wide-open faith he envied. He thought too much. And while he hesitated to say that thinking pulled him away from his Faith, he feared that it was true. What kind of faith did the Bible look for? Childlike. Eyes-Wide-Open. She was in so much pain, and he hated it. He wanted to do something so badly for her, one of his two favorite people in the whole world, and he couldn't. There was nothing he could do to heal this beautiful, eyes-wide-open girl who was so afraid she had her eyes squeezed shut against his chest. She spoke again. You aren't going to leave me, right? Oh God, those words were a knife, and he wondered if the grief he suddenly felt, hot and then very cold at the pit of his stomach, felt at all like Brody had. That bastard who killed him. To take away the person that made Ella light up in a way Tommy did not know how to replicate. He pulled her tighter against him, palms flat against her back as if worried she might slip away. "I'm right here," he said softly. "I'm right here, Ella." The other part he wasn't used to was the holding. He'd had a few girls cry on his shoulder, but he'd never found himself here, wrapped around another person so grief-filled you have to squeeze tight to keep all of their pieces intact. He hoped his roommate wouldn't be mad about the bike, because there was little chance Tommy would be get it back before he woke up. [/style]

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[style=width: 450px; background: #CCC; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px]outfit: here! tagged: fitz! <3 <3 ---credit: sophia.

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[fitz01]

All these short hours she had been placing the blame on God. It made sense to her that it was all on Him, that He had control over this situation and He did absolutely nothing to stop it. But after Tommy reminded her that humans had free will, she couldn't exactly pinpoint how she felt in the least. Fear? If humans would do this to Brody, what could they do to her? To anyone else she loved? Anger? This person had a choice. It wasn't any secret, but she hadn't considered it until now, that this person could have just left him alone. That person could have walked away and left Brody to getting his CD and they could've went on and been happy. But no, this person decided the best course of action was to cut Brody down in his prime. But for what gain? What could there have been to possibly profit from this? She was pulled tighter against him, being reassured that he was, in fact, real. She wrapped her arms around him, keeping her head on his chest as she cried more, sniffled here and there.

"Tommy, do you think thewe awe evil people?" Her voice was soft and she knew she had probably asked him this question before, but she could scarcely remember what he had answered with. Ella had believed, or tried to believe, that there weren't bad people, only people who make bad decisions. She had tried to operate under the assumption that people were inherently good, because they were God's, whether they accepted Him or not. But after tonight, as with many things she used to believe with complete certainty, she had to wonder if she was wrong all along. She had known that people killed and had been killing since the dawn of mankind, but it didn't seem real. It didn't seem at all tangible until she was holding the head of someone she loved, dying due to human cruelty and nothing else. Maybe evil wasn't something exclusive only to demons. Maybe it came in human form. The thought made her tense up and her mind began racing with thoughts of what could happen should he leave now, what would happen if she were ever at the mercy of some psychopath with a knife. She sighed, feeling far more broken than she ever thought could be possible. Luckily she had Tommy. It took all of her not to imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t come.

She shifted, her legs starting to lose all feeling. She moved herself so she was between Tommy and the wall, keeping herself incredibly close, wrapping her arms around him and placing her head on his shoulder. Ella had yet to stop crying, but it was more silent than hysterical, as it had been before and she sighed softly again, shutting her eyes. She was actually exhausted - after all that had happened, plus having a fitful sleep, it made sense, really. Having him there, being calmed by a familiar smell and warm touch really didn't help her in that regard either. "He will make it wight again. He'll make it good again. Things will get bettew. It'll be okay, one day." She whispered these words, breathing rather deeply, still making an attempt at calming herself enough so maybe she could rest at some point tonight, though it wasn't really working. Her faith couldn't be magically restored so quickly and her tears and anguish wouldn't be run off by a few reassuring phrases of a loving God who she partly blamed for this. But she could still try.

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IDEFK WORDS | COMPLETE/INCOMPLETE | TAGS: TOMMY | OUTFIT
LYRICS BY SKILLET | TEMPLATE BY ARRO
ugh

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[tommy]

Come on look me in my bloodshot eyes

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=width: 250px; height: 290px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 5px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; color: #333; line-height: 99%; overflow: auto] Tommy didn't want to believe in evil people, but it almost felt like lying to tell her that people were Good. He believed in good versus evil, didn't he? Otherwise the superheroes from his comics and the protagonists from some of his favorite stories had no real purpose. But he wanted to think of it differently: that bad people weren't just bad. They weren't one-dimensional characters. He thought about using an onion metaphor, but then remembered Shrek, and scowled a little because that movie ruined that whole 'people being layered' conversation. Everybody would just start talking about flying donkeys or something. "I think maybe bad people aren't just bad for the sake of being bad. I think they have a reason. Not usually a justifiable reason, but I don't think people are just born bad. I mean, Satan started out in God's trust as an angel. I think it's like that. People struggle, and they hurt, and then they fall. And maybe they become bad people then. But I don't think they were ever evil. Because evil implies that they were made that way. And I think maybe I only believe demons were made that way." He was rambling. He did that when he got tired. He didn't want to be, but he was dozing off a little even as he tried to explain his point of view; his eyelids felt heavy. When she shifted so she was leaning against him differently, it got even harder to stay awake: the change in position took the strain off of his back, and he suddenly felt immensely comfortable. Were the beds in the girls' dorms nicer than in the boys'? It sure felt like it. She started speaking more quietly, but his eyelids were closing and she was fading in and out. He'll make it good again...One day..."

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The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he had a new cramp in his neck and he had terrible morning breath. He was still holding on to her, although much less tightly.


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