Tom awoke with a start. He found himself at the kitchen table, with a cold spot on his cheek where a pool of saliva had puddled around his mouth. With a sniff, Tom wiped his face with his sleeve and straightened up, trying to orient himself. The sun was still up, shining in through the window, and Tom felt horribly groggy. Horribly...drunk even. Tom could vaguely recall smuggling a bottle of vodka home the night before and popping it open while he was alone in the house. Edd was at work and Matt was at school. He should probably try to find said bottle. He wasn’t sure how much he drank, and he certainly didn’t want to get caught completely red handed. Maybe he could clean up and get back to bed before Edd got back.
He heard a shuffling in the living room. Too late. He cursed softly and staggered out of his chair, mentally preparing for the earful he was bound to receive.
“Dad?”
Matt? Tom blinked. Maybe he hadn’t drank enough. The alcohol was supposed to make Matt go away. It was supposed to make the nightmares, the taunting, the horrible visions stop, or at least blur beyond recognition. He needed another drink…He wasn’t ready for this he wasn’t-
“Dad, what happened? Are you okay?”
Tom turned to the speaker, surprised by the gentleness in his tone. Sure enough, Matt was in the archway, watching him. His eyes were big and he was fiddling with the backpack strap in his hand, the way he did when he was nervous. The way the real Matt did when he was nervous. Even in his foggy mind, Tom was piecing together that this was not the viciously-smirking boy with the harsh laughter that had been visiting him so frequently. This was Matt...this was his son.
“You’re home early,” Tom managed to say with some difficulty.
“Are you drunk?” Matt asked, his gaze glancing between Tom and something on the kitchen counter.
“No, no, I’m not drunk,” Tom muttered, rubbing his face with his hand, trying to wake himself up.
“You’re bleeding,” Matt said.
Tom glanced at his hand. Sure enough, it was caked in crusty dark red blood, and a fresh trickle of it was making its way down his palm and lining the sleeve of his hoodie. Who knows what a mess he’d made with that.
“Guess I am,” Tom said. “Sorry.”
Matt bit his lip. He hadn’t moved from the archway, his body tense beneath his oversized shark hoodie.
“You should probably head over to Jon’s for a little bit…” Tom said, “Edd’s gonna be home soon. I’ll get this cleaned up.” Tom gestured to the table, not even sure what kind of mess was there to be cleaned, but he knew he’d have hell to pay if Edd knew that not only was he drinking, but that Matt had caught him doing so.
Matt watched him for a moment longer, neither of them sure what to say, before Matt stepped backwards and turned, leaving Tom’s line of sight. Good. That’s one thing out of the way. Tom turned back to the table. There were a few flakes of blood and some dried drips of it on the table, but the real mess seemed to be on the tile, where a pretty sizeable puddle had formed. Tom could feel the burning in his palm now, but he couldn’t recall what happened to it.
“Dad, sit down,”
Tom jumped at Matt’s voice, turning abruptly. Matt startled along with him, taking a step away from his father. His backpack was gone, and he had the first aid kit in his hands. He must have retrieved it from the bathroom.
“No, no, you gotta go to Jon’s,” Tom told him, weakly making a shooing gesture with his good hand. “I can take care of it.”
“You’re drunk, sit down,” Matt told him. There was an almost cute force in his voice as he approached Tom and gently pushed him towards the chair. Tom obliged. He took a seat back where he had been napping and took his injured hand out to look at it. Matt set the first aid kit opposite him and retrieved a washcloth to wet it.
“I’m not drunk,” Tom muttered, trying to identify why there was so much blood leaking from his hand.
“Dad, I’m not five, I know you’re drunk,” Matt said with a sigh. “You left your vodka on the counter.”
Ah. That’s where it was.
Matt slid into the seat opposite of Tom, sitting on his knees so he could reach across the table. He rolled up his sleeves, fished a pair of tweezers out from the first aid kit and took Tom’s injured hand in his own.
“How was school?” Tom asked dumbly. Matt didn’t answer. He pulled a tiny shard of glass out of Tom’s hand with the tweezers.
“You made fine mess, didn’t you?” Matt said softly, timidly even.
Tom looked at his face. His expression was so soft as he worked.
“Guess I did,” Tom admitted at last. “And I guess I got caught red-handed.”
Matt snorted.
“Pun unintentional,” Tom said at last. He felt himself relax a little.
“Was it because of the nightmares?” Matt asked softly, taking another sliver of glass and setting it to the side. Tom didn’t know he knew about those.
“First off,” Tom gestured with his free hand, “drinking is not a healthy coping mechaniz-azism.”
“Dad,”
“Second off,” Tom lifted a second finger, “How much did Edd tell you?”
“Not a lot,” Matt held Tom’s hand close to his face, pressing the skin with the tweezers to check for any lingering glass. “But he says you’ve been having some bad nightmares and it’s why you’re so weird when I’m around.”
“I’m weird when you’re around?”
“Well...yeah,” Matt said, looking up at Tom for a moment before grabbing the washcloth and cleaning the wound.
“How?”
“You’re really tense, I guess,” Matt explained, his voice getting softer. “It’s like you’re scared to see me. You did that when I walked in a minute ago.”
He did, didn’t he. But that’s not fair, he thought he was someone else…
“It’s not your fault,” Tom said quietly.
“Still…Edd told me I’m not even supposed to be alone in the house with you.”
“He did?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t supposed to tell you either. This is disinfectant, it’s gonna burn.”
Tom watched as Matt poured the disinfectant onto a fresh cloth and pressed it to his hand. It burned all right, but the pain helped drag Tom further back into his senses. He realized his heart was hurting too.
“I’m sorry, Matt,” he said, and he sucked in a breath through his teeth as the burning grew stronger.
“It’s okay...I’m mostly just worried…”
“Not even supposed to be in the house with me…” Tom muttered, the ache in his chest growing stronger as he became more aware.
“I think he’s just worried I’ll scare you,” Matt clarified softly.
“I don’t like that,” Tom said, reaching for the bandages in the first aid kit to help Matt finish with his hand.
“Do I scare you though?”
“No,” Tom said quickly. There was a pause.
“It sure seems like it sometimes,” Matt confessed.
Tom was quiet. He focused on feeling the pressure Matt was applying to his hand, looking at the streaks of blood that stained his hoodie and littered the table. He was a mess. His chest hurt so much.
“Dad, please don’t cry,” Matt whispered. Tom noticed something wet was rolling down his cheek.
“I’m sorry,” he said, wiping his face and sniffing. “Sorry.”
Matt bit his lip. Tom could feel his fingers tracing the cloth on his hand, desperate to clutch at his hoodie for comfort, but they stayed right where they were.
“I promise I’ll get better,” Tom said. He lifted his free hand and pressed it against Matt’s cheek. Matt tilted his head gently into it. “I promise…”
Matt finished his work in silence. He bandaged up Tom’s hand and rinsed off the tweezers before setting everything back into the first aid kit and heading to the bathroom to return it. Tom staggered to the sink for a glass of water. The vodka bottle was by the sink, the top half of it was shattered, leaving a puddle of alcohol and glass shards in the bottom half. Tom stared at it for a moment, then dumped the contents into the sink, letting the glass bang loudly as it fell from the bottle.
“We can tell Edd-dad that you cut yourself on a vase,” Matt said, returning into the kitchen with a broom and dustpan.
“What vase?” Tom asked, staring into the sink.
“The one I broke a month ago and no one noticed it was gone.”
Tom had to smile. Who knows how much that kid had gotten away with in the past?
“No, I’ll tell him what happened,” Tom said, very carefully fishing the broken glass from the sink.
“You don’t have to,” Matt held off sweeping the floor so he could watch Tom.
“Maybe not but...I have a promise to keep, and lying isn’t gonna help me achieve it.”
Matt sidled in closer to Tom, watching him collect the shards of glass carefully and deposit them back into the broken bottle. He leaned his head against Tom’s shoulder. Tom freed his hand and put it around him, careful to hold his bandages away from Matt’s hoodie.
“Maybe don’t tell Edd-dad that I tried to help you cover this up,” Matt said at last.
Tom smiled gently and planted a kiss in Matt’s hair. “That can be our little secret.”
