-A Downton Abbey Fanfiction-
How to make a Barrow Smile
Chapter 1
Contents: Slight angst, mention of attempted suicide, platonic Parkbarrow,
[[At first this was just going to be an ending to the latest episode of Downton Abbey because, quite honestly, it was disgraceful. But as you can see i couldn’t help myself write more so now, more than likely, this will become a chartered Downton Abbey fic. Probably centred around platonic and romantic Parkbarrow. Apologies that this isn’t my best writing but I still quite like it. Enjoy!]]
{p.s, I’m cringing at and loving the title I chose for this so much xD }
Andy kicked the door down. A surge of strength released from his desperation to save Thomas. Phyllis was no stupid women so if she had pieced together that he was going to try and end his life then more than likely, it would be true.
There he was. Blood dripping into the bath, turning the once clear water into a deeper shade of red. His friends held back a choke as they rushed over to him. Noticing his chest gently rising and falling, Phyllis proceeded to rip her clothing and tying it around his wrist tight to hopefully slow down the bleeding and keep pressure on it.
With their collective strength they dragged him out of the bath. After a call had been made the Doctor had arrived. Not much could be done after the bleeding had stopped but to bring him to his room and to keep the wound clean until it would heal and scar.
Whilst the Crawley’s were dining, Phyllis and Andy stood around nervously. Minds racing with the thought of Thomas. When the two would pass each other they would share a glance, expressing how futile serving dinner felt right now. Phyllis seemed to be hiding her emotions better than Andy as whenever Carson looked at him his lip was quivering. In return he would raise an eyebrow, keeping up the family standards his utmost priority and an emotional outburst would ruin it all.
Eventually, dinner finished and the two walked away speedily. They decided that only one would go at a time, so as to not overwhelm him. Andy offered to go later at night because his room wasn’t too far from his own so Phyllis plated up some dinner for Thomas and left.
“Hello, Mr. Barrow. I’ve brought you dinner.” Her tone was soft and she placed the tray onto the bedside cabinet, sitting on the spare bed. Thomas seemed to mutter a small “Thank you.” Although he didn’t eat or didn’t reply to anything else she had said. Even so, she still absent-mindedly chit-chatted away in hopes she would distract him from the earlier events.
“Unfortunately I must go now. Goodbye, Mr. Barrow. I shall visit again tomorrow, if you’d like.”
Once again the two discussed poor Mr. Barrow and Andy nervously watched the clock until the servants went to bed. Until he could see Thomas. His gaze fixed on the rhythmic moving of the hands he reminisced of when he had not long arrived at the Abbey and Carson had told him to wind the clocks. Thomas had offered to help but he hadn’t accepted. Would they be closer if he had accepted his help? Would Thomas have become friends with him? Would it have changed the series of events that lead to his decision of suicide..?
Surprisingly, the thoughts wasted a lot of time and when he finally snapped out of his trance everyone was gone and drifting into slumber. Andy practically ran down the corridor to Thomas’ room. His thoughts had led him into panic and worry. He needed to see him, even if he was asleep.
Quietly, he opened his door and stepped in. Much to his shock, the under butler was still awake. A book open in his palms with candlelight faintly illuminating the pale pages and even paler face.
“Mr. Barrow..? Am I disturbing you?” Andy stepped closer to him when he didn’t reply.
“Are you alright, Mr. Barrow?” Once again, he did not reply so Andy crouched next to the bed.
“Will you not answer me?” The silence that ensued told him that that was a no.
So he did something that earlier he had debated would be regrettable if he did it. He wrapped his arms around Thomas, the emotion which he had hidden away throughout the day, dripping out of the dam he had built to trap his sadness. Thomas finally reacted, his face overtaken by pure shock that somebody was crying over him.
“D-don’t you /ever/ d-do that a-again Thomas Barrow, o-or I swear t-to God I’ll kill ya. You gave m-me such a fright. I-I-I…” His words were getting lost in his wild sobbing. “I though y-you were dead b-bastard.”
At first he was touched, but he remembered how he had been treat and how so,etching awful would always happen when he let someone into his life. He masked his expression and curtly replied,
“And why should you care, Mr. Parker, whether I live or die?” Andy wiped his eyes and frowned,
“Maybe because you are my friend Mr. Barrow. And why should I need a reason to care about you? Can I not care for the sake of caring?”
“No, not really, Mr. Parker. People don’t work that way. Especially when the care has been directed towards me. Now goodnight, Mr. Parker. You already know what I am and if Mr. Carson, or anybody else for that matter, saw you leave my room they would get suspicious.”
“Stop being such a stubborn mule. I’ll be back tomorrow night so don’t think I’ve let you off the hook just yet. I’m not giving up until you smile. A genuine smile. I can tell the difference, and a good night to you too.” With that Andy strode off. Frustrated but determined. He would make Thomas Barrow smile, and he would make him happy.
