“Astrid, how are you getting on living at the Solrosen group home? Are you enjoying it?”
She quietly mutters her reply, something Tom can just barely make out. It’s a great place, the group home she has been placed at. If they could only keep here there and not let her roam the streets at night. She needs to find a church that will calm her. A place of worship where someone can take her there and take her home after, not let her work herself up to this state every Sunday night. That damn church she attends needs to be shut down.
Not that it is any of his concern, nor his responsibility. He still patches her up and makes the phone call to the Solrosen home himself. Exchanges pleasantries with Heidi, the carer in charge. They know each other well. And he waves Astrid off in a taxi that he charges to the 'Healthcare in the Community' account. Fuck them. They can sue him for all he cares.
He takes the gloves off his hands and folds them up carefully. Inside out.
“Protect, Preserve, Promote,” he mutters to himself. Letting the cool night air blow on his face for a second.
“Hello.”
He has almost forgotten about Lukas. Oh God. Lukas. Lukas is here standing in front of him on the pavement like some apparition of sorts.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he blurts out. “I would shake your hand but I’m not clean.”
He looks a right state. Blood down his leg and non-sterile gloves in his hand. He’s a walking talking bio-hazard. Lukas just shrugs his shoulders, a mask of indifference on his face, when all Tom can do is smile.
“How’s your head?”
“Fine, Tom.”
They just stand there. Tom would hug him if he could, but then Lukas would probably recoil in horror if he tried.
“My phone is in my coat pocket.” He angles his hips. Hands up in the air. He’s not clean. His lab coat is fine though. No blood.
Lukas fishes the phone out of his pocket, then just stands there. Looking at the lapel of his coat. The one where he keeps all the pins and badges.
“What are all the pins for?” he asks. Looking genuinely curious.
“It’s a good icebreaker with patients. People tend to look and start asking questions.”
Lukas angles his head. Looking seriously cute. His hair is a mess. Curls and tangles. He hasn’t shaved all weekend either, and the scruff on his chin is doing things to Tom’s insides. Tom kind of wants to reach out and touch it. Kiss it. Feel the coarse stubble against his lips.
“What’s the safety-pin for?” Lukas says. His finger reaching out to stroke the ragged edge of the ‘Proud LGBTQ Parent’ pin.
“The safe space movement. It tells people who are looking that I am a safe person to speak to. That I won’t judge. That I am an ally to them, whatever their race, religion or sexuality.”
Lukas just huffs. Yeah. He knows. Fucking hypocrite.
But Tom’s not that person anymore. He spent his entire medical education sharing a dorm with people from all over the world. Learning. Soaking up people’s stories like a sponge. Figuring things out. And most of all, realising that humans are humans whatever shape, colour or looks. He doesn’t judge. How can he? When he knows that he can be the vilest of the vile when his fear and anger takes hold.
“Pan flag? Why would you have one of those, Tom?” Lukas looks so angry. Like Tom is ridiculing everything he holds dear.
And Tom can’t help it. He lets the back of his finger stroke Lukas’s cheek and Lukas jumps back in fear.
That was stupid. That was fucking stupid.
“I got myself into anger management classes during Uni. Lukas, I would never ever hurt you. I have never laid a finger on my son, and I have never behaved like I did at school since. Never. I would never….”
“Shut up.” Lukas is cringing.
Tom knows. He knows how fucking awkward this is for Lukas. He should never have brought it up.
“Can I just tell you something?” Tom needs to try. If this is his only chance. Please let me try.
“What?” Lukas croaks out. He’s still clinging to Tom’s phone. Arms around his body. His shoulders are all tensed up though. Defiant. And he is looking Tom straight in the eye.
“Okay.” Tom shuffles nervously, taking a deep breath before letting it all spill out. “I was probably in love with you since the first day of school, the first day of Year 1. You and Simon were sitting on the wall outside the main entrance, laughing, and I think Abdi came and asked you something and you all shook hands and laughed, and you just pulled Abdi in for a hug and I wanted that. I wanted to be hugged by you like that. I wanted you to be like that with me. I wanted you to just hug me and tell me that school would turn out just fine.”
Lukas is just staring at Tom. Still defiant. Angry. The red on his cheeks is not embarrassment or a childish blush. It’s anger. Raw and unapologetic.
“I loved you all through school. I was just too fucking scared to do the right thing. I wanted to pick you up and shake you. I wanted to scream at you that I just wanted you to be mine. That I wanted you. That you made me feel things I had never felt before and that I was probably just as gay as you. I wanted you to help me. I wanted you to love me. I wanted you to fix me.”
Tom has to stop. He’s so out of breath it’s not even funny. And he is freaking out. Panting like Max does when he’s heading into a panic attack. Sweat pooling under his armpits. Drips running down this temple.
He pulls his fingers through his hair. Waves his other hand aimlessly through the air with those damn gloves still in it. They need to go in the Biohazard bin inside. He needs to breathe. Breathe, Tom. Breathe damn it!
“You need to breathe,” Lukas says calmly.
“Sorry,” Tom pants out. He needs to stop this. He needs to breathe. He needs to stop being an imbecilic twat.
Lukas just stands there. Still with Tom’s damn phone in his hand.
“Please don’t leave. I just need to dump these gloves and wash my hands and I have something I need to give you. Promise you won’t leave. Just wait right here. Don’t go.”
Lukas doesn’t move. He just stands there, in all his defiant anger and obvious shock at being word-assaulted by Tom’s stupid no-filter mouth. And having some obviously deranged bloke spill fucked up declarations of love from years ago at him, has obviously stripped him off the ability to speak.
Good. Let him stew in it. Because Tom is a little angry too. Mostly at himself, but he has expected something. At least a punch in the face. A snide comeback. Anything.
Instead, he runs inside and ignores the clipboard that the receptionist is trying to hand him. He just waves the gloves at her like she is supposed to understand the whole fucked up universe of Tom’s without saying a word. He washes his hands and doesn’t dare to look at his own face in the mirror. He doesn’t want to know what he looks like. He doesn’t want to face himself. He’s just done it. Said it out loud.
He wants to do it again. He wants to say it again. Keep saying it until he is blue in the face.
He grabs the bag from his locker in the staffroom and bolts out through the reception area like his arse is on fire.
He has something he needs to do.
He needs to stop. He needs to think. He needs his head examined. Again.
And he stops right where he stands. Right in front of Lukas who hasn’t moved an inch. Pants into the dark street with his hands on his knees. Gathers himself up. Stands up straight.