Drawn to Solitude
On certain days, mostly what Tommy would call relaxing would be disengaging himself from everyone else and finding a spot to just lay down on a blanket and sungaze. Which is why he found himself amid the gardens and the flowers, one hand over his forehead and the other on his stomach with his legs curled up. The sun wasnât much of a threat without his glasses, he was technically blind. He was just glad the scientists hear managed to repair them.
Tommy helped himself in his own ways: mostly through allowing himself certain times to spot out and take a breather or have a good cry in his room. Just a refresh to get himself out there. A spotty past trying to crawl into a bright future. Nightmares and bad memories of schools exploding, government torture, evil scientists. It was all different now. Better. He had to make himself know it. His breathing got heavier.
Laura didnât initially plan to disturb Tommy, he seemed to be taking some alone time. Â But then he began to, as far as she could tell, struggle to breathe. Â She knew panic when she saw it, she could hear it in his ragged breaths and smell it coming off of him. Â âTommy,â she called out gently as she changed her course, walking briskly over.
âTommy, are you okay?â Â She asked as she dropped down beside him.














