FIC: The Fault in Our Stars, PG, Tom/Bill, 1/1
Title: The Fault in Our Stars
Author: ????
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill
Rating: PG
Warnings: Abuse, Non-Con/Rape, Pedophilia
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Bill spends nearly all of his time caring for his mother and the rest either looking for work or reading. He depends on the local library's bookmobile for his sanity. When the bookmobile gets a new driver, will the new guy be the annoying jerk he first seems to be or will he be the friend Bill so badly needs? Also, warnings are just mentioned in the past tense, nothing graphic here.
FQF Prompt: 82. Tom/ Bill - set in Scotland or in some other beautiful, preferably very rural area: In a small village somewhere in Scotland ( or elsewhere) lives a shy but very intense boy Bill with his believed-to-be-crazy mother. His only joy in life is reading books that he regularly borrows from a buss library regularly arriving to their village on Mondays. One day the buss driver ends up in hospital and there's nobody to replace him.
Tom is a cocky, troubled young man, living in a town next to Bill's village, not caring too much about anything else rather than having fun with his buddies, driving fast cars, getting laid and occasionally drunk. When he gets caught for drunk driving, he is sentenced to community service. Tom gets to take over the duties of the library bus driver. For a period of four months. He hates everything about it, he hates countryside, he hates old ladies coming to borrow their books, he even hates books themselves. One day he meets Bill........... they are so different, they have so little in common ...... and yet, fascination strikes and maybe something more.... all the rest is up to the author:-) - submitted by fleur_de_ylang
Author's notes: The book referred to in the story, An Imperial Affliction, does not actually exist, it was made up by author John Green as a thing for his characters to talk about in his own book, The Fault in Our Stars, from whence came the title of this story of mine. A few concepts are borrowed from The Fault in Our Stars, but rest assured this is a very different story. For one thing, no one is dying of cancer, so there's that. This is the first thing I've managed to finish in a very long time, so enjoy!
Sometimes, when Bill couldn't quite remember what his mother's voice sounded like or what his father looked like, he would dig out the home movies from his childhood and watch them until he cried. He would try to imagine his father's hair turning grey or him putting on weight or growing a beard. He wondered how time would have changed the man, were he still around. He wondered what pearls of wisdom his mother would share with him if she could still speak. And then, he would turn off the video and re-bury it in the attic and go to his room and hide away in the stack of books on his nightstand that he had borrowed from the local public library's bookmobile.
The bookmobile came by every Monday afternoon and it was the only thing he had to look forward to all week while he cared for his mother, tried in vain to find work, and had no one to talk to but his uncle Roger. He wasn't close to his uncle. He was Bill's father's brother and Bill's financial support ever since his father had died and his mother had stopped mothering. Bill was grateful to Roger but he didn't like him. Bill would rather be homeless than have to be around his uncle, but he had his mother to think about. Until Bill found work, he had to accept Roger's help, otherwise what would become of his mother? She barely had the motivation to eat when Bill brought her food, much less the motivation to actually care for herself.
One August Monday after filling out job applications online all morning, Bill packed up the five books on his nightstand and trudged down his long driveway to the street and took a left up the narrow side road he lived on toward the main road where the bookmobile would stop at the corner to receive the books that Bill had borrowed and lend him five more. This time, however, Bill arrived at the corner and waited, but there was no sign of the old school bus that had been brightly repainted and emblazoned with the library's logo. Maybe it was running late today. He waited. He took a seat on a tree stump for a moment before fearing that the bus would come and pass him by because the driver couldn't see him. He leaned on the mailbox of the house on the corner as he got tired of standing. The owner came out and told him to get off of their property, so Bill moved back to the actual corner by the street sign, but still the bus didn't come. After a few cars passing by tried to pick him up thinking he was a hitchhiker and it started to lightly rain, Bill finally gave up and headed for home, though he kept glancing over his shoulder, sure that the bus would come now that he'd given up, because that was the kind of luck Bill had.
Bill returned to the spot where he waited for the bookmobile for two more Mondays in a row with the same result and almost didn't return a fourth time, resigning himself to having to re-read the same five books forever. Good thing he'd checked out some of his favorites again last time the bookmobile had come. In the end, a little later than usual, Bill rushed out the door with his books and arrived at the corner just as the familiar bus appeared.
Bill climbed aboard, startled to see someone other than the usual elderly man driving the bus.
"Evening," the new driver, a young man in his twenties, greeted Bill.
"Hi," Bill replied shyly, handing his books to the man and moving past him to see the books on the shelves. The library never really bothered to update the books so Bill had read most of them at some point over the last several years. Bill knew, of course, that he could request any books in the main library's catalog and that the bookmobile would have them for him the following week, but for the most part, he was content to re-read his favorites. This time, however, the driver presented him with a ratty paperback.
"You requested this? Bill, right? I just assumed since the note said it was for this stop and you're the only one here."
"Maybe the other people gave up since you haven't been here for three weeks in a row," Bill said honestly, "But thanks, that book is for me."
"So you're that Bill."
"I guess so," Bill said, returning to the books on the shelves.
"Don't blame me," Tom began after a moment, "You know, for now being here. I just got this job a few days ago."
He was met with silence.
"I'm Tom," the driver said, trying once more to engage Bill in conversation.
"Nice to meet you, Tom," Bill said never looking away from the books until a moment later. "Where's An Imperial Affliction? Is it checked out?"
"Oh, no, it's up here," Tom said, heading for the driver's seat where he found the book in question. "Did you know the ladies at the senior center in town have their book club meetings actually in the bus? Yeah, I had to stay for that, so I grabbed a random book to occupy myself."
Bill sighed, "An Imperial Affliction is not a 'random book.'"
"So you like it?"
Bill gave Tom a look that said quite clearly "Duh."
"It's all right so far," Tom said smirking. Maybe insulting his favorite book was the way to get the boy talking.
"Are you planning on finishing it or can I check it out?"
"Oh, no, I'm gonna finish it," Tom said with mock eagerness.
Bill bit his lip in frustration and went back to looking at the shelf. He knew it was probably silly to get upset about some random guy joking around about and keeping from him a book that wasn't even his and he knew that Tom had know way of knowing that he was messing with one of only two things that mattered to Bill in the world. He couldn't help it, though. This was his favorite book and he had been looking forward to reading it again for nearly a month now and he was losing it to some jerk who thought it was just "all right."
Bill took his time choosing his four other books and handed them to Tom to check out and didn't speak as the due date was stamped onto the cards in the back of each book. Then, he placed the books into his bag and began the long walk home.
***
The following Thursday night, Tom was riding a bicycle for the first time in years and hating that he had to travel such a hilly road. He wasn't a huge fan of rural areas, preferring to live in town, which, while not a big city, at least had businesses and homes close together (unlike here, where the homes were quite a distance apart, some even having fields with horses separating them) and was comparatively flat. He turned a corner and began looking for the right mailbox while preparing to throw himself into the ditch at the side of the road should a car come down the narrow road. He found the mailbox with the last name he was looking for, which he was annoyed to see was at the end of a very long driveway that appeared to lead straight up a hill. It looked like a ninety degree angle to Tom's tired eyes, but it was the right place, so he turned onto it. He hopped off of the bike, opting to walk the rest of the way.
When he reached the top of the hill, he parked his bike in the driveway, which was devoid of vehicles. He might have worried that no one was home but there were lights on in the house. Tom stepped up onto the porch and knocked on the door.
A tired looking woman opened the door and stood silently taking in Tom's sweaty appearance.
"Uh..." Tom began, oh-so-eloquently, "I'm looking for Bill?"
The woman glanced over her shoulder into the house as if she, too, were looking for Bill, but said nothing. After a moment, Tom was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but then, the woman stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.
Tom stood awkwardly in the living room looking around at the decor, which reminded him of the seventies, what with the wood paneling and harvest gold accessories. The woman made no move to either find Bill or show Tom where Bill might be.
Suddenly, Bill entered the room carrying a small stack of empty dishes, presumably on his way to the kitchen. At first he didn't notice Tom, but when he did, he jumped, knocking a glass and a bowl off of the stack. He scrambled to try and catch them, but the bowl still hit the ground.
"What are you doing here?" Bill asked as he stooped to pick up the bowl.
Tom's eyes lit up as he remembered why he had come. He reached into his very large pants pocket and pulled out the book he held there.
"Oh my God, Bill, this book!" Tom exclaimed.
When Bill saw the book that Tom was holding, An Imperial Affliction, He laughed. "It's good isn't it?"
"Is this copy missing a page or something? Oh my God, don't tell me that bastard Van Houten ended it in mid-sentence."
"He did, though."
Tom just let out an exasperated half yell/half growl as his hand which held the book flailed wildly.
"Why would he do that? How are we supposed to figure out what happened to Anna? What about the Dutch Tulip Man? Not cool. Not cool at all."
"Well, I guess we can assume she died. Or she got too sick to keep writing."
"And that was the only way to get that across?"
"I think it's beautiful, Tom. You don't always get to wrap everything up before you die. Sometimes it's sudden and in the middle of a sentence."
"I'll go to Holland and kill Van Houten in the middle of a sentence if he doesn't clarify a few things."
"Tom, you can't go killing authors just because you don't like how they end their books. Let me go put these away and we can talk about it." Bill left with his dishes, leaving Tom awkwardly alone with the still-silent woman.
He came back shortly and headed up the stairs, motioning for Tom to follow. Bill's room, Tom noticed when they arrived, was kind of depressing. The walls were white with nothing hanging on them and the place was incredibly clean. There was a desk in the corner with a gray laptop and not much else on it.
Bill sat on his bed and Tom pulled out the chair at the desk and turned it to face Bill. It was getting dark already but Tom ended up hanging around and discussing An Imperial Affliction for hours, Tom certain the Dutch Tulip Man was a fraud that only wanted Anna's mother's money and Bill sure he was just a tulip farmer in love. They discussed what might have become of Anna's family after the story ended and after Anna had presumably died. Bill seemed especially concerned for Anna's mother, wondering if she was able to have a life after her daughter was gone. Tom swore she was fine, but Bill wasn't so sure.
"Sometimes when you suffer a really big loss," Bill said hours later, "You just kinda of break. Sometimes you move on and you're okay, but sometimes you just freak out and quit functioning. I need to know what Anna's mom did when she lost Anna."
Sensing Bill was thinking about something more personal than some book, Tom took a risk and asked, "So who did you and your mom lose? And what did you do?"
Bill was quiet for a minute, not sure which part of the story he should begin with. In the end, all he said was "Dad was in a car accident. When I was twelve."
"So what do you think Anna's mom did?"
"Maybe the same thing as my mom. You saw her."
"Are you seriously that concerned for the well-being of a fictional character? You're seriously afraid that Anna's mom is unhappy somewhere in Fictional Book Land?"
"I don't know, my mom and I just handled my dad dying so differently..."
"You want to know what you're supposed to do?"
"Maybe."
"Peter Van Houten probably doesn't know shit about how to handle death the right way and even if he'd finished his stupid book the right way, it probably wouldn't have told you much. Because Anna was a kid. It's different losing your kid or your friend or your sister or whatever than it is to lose your dad. And she was really sick for a long time and your dad was in an accident after being, I assume, pretty much healthy. It's a totally different situation, you can't try to live your life by it."
"You're probably right, but I'm still really worried about her."
"Anna's mom or your mom?"
"Both."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Sure."
"Does she talk at all?"
"I hear from my Uncle Roger that she talks a little at church, which is the only time she leaves the house. So it sounds like it's just me she doesn't want to talk to."
"Who takes care of you? I mean, you're just a kid, right?"
"I'm not a kid, I'm nineteen. I take care of myself. Except Uncle Roger pays for all of our expenses."
Tom was tempted to launch into typical-adult mode and lecture Bill on how you're not an adult until you're paying your own way, but this obviously wasn't the time. "Okay, so when you were twelve and your dad had just died and your mom wasn't talking to you anymore, who took care of you?"
"For about a year, there was kind of a rotation of family members that would come by to check on us, but it was really awkward with me being a moody kid who didn't want them around and mom not talking to anyone. After awhile they stopped coming, so Uncle Roger was the only one. And he just gave me money and signed school stuff that I needed a parent for."
"So no one, then," Tom said, probably more bluntly than he should have.
"I guess not," Bill said frowning. "Why?"
"I guess it's not any of my business."
"No, it's not. So how did you end up driving the bookmobile?"
"Well, I don't know what happened to the old guy or anything, but I got the job as kind of... Well, it's not really a punishment per se. I guess the librarian is taking my help with the bookmobile in exchange for her helping me by not getting the police involved in a little bit of a... Well, a little drunk driving incident that ended with my car in her pond and some serious fence damage."
"Wow."
"Don't worry, that's not a mistake I plan on making again. Not that I could right now anyway, with my car pretty much dead."
"Did you walk here or something?"
"Nah, I rode a bike."
"Do you live in town?"
"Yeah, I live pretty close to the library, actually."
"Oh. That's pretty far to ride a bike. Especially with all the hills and all. Hey, I was just thinking. Why would the librarian trust you with a driving job after you drunkenly drove your car into her pond?"
"Well, she was getting pretty concerned about not having a driver for the bookmobile. I'm just a temporary guy while she looks for a new one, but I think she was worried about you not getting your books."
"The librarian was worried about me?" Bill sounded skeptical.
"Well, yeah, you know the bookmobile only bothers to come out this far for you, right? You're the only one that ever comes to that stop. All the others have like whole book clubs, like the senior center, and some are like apartment complexes with a million little kids, but if only one person ever shows up, they usually take that stop off the list, but she likes you."
"Is it still Mrs. Holbrook? Isn't she like four hundred or something? That's who was there when my dad used to take me all the time. Did the book mobile even come out this way before he died? I never noticed because I always had a ride to the library before."
"Yeah, it's still her. And no, she's not four hundred," Tom scolded. "She doesn't look a day over three fifty."
Bill laughed at that. He hadn't smiled a lot that night, but Tom always noticed when he did because he got the feeling he was witnessing something rare and special and only intended for him. Tom decided before he left that his new mission was to find that smile as often as possible.
***
A month later, Tom was replaced on the bookmobile, but not before Bill had made him promise to read all of his favorite books and Tom had read them just to see that rare and lovely smile. As much as he wanted to Bill to be happy, a part of Tom hoped his smiles would always be so rare so that he would never get used to the feeling. A part of him also felt sure that it didn't matter if Bill never stopped smiling because Tom would probably never get used to it anyway.
Tom arrived at Bill's house in his newly fixed car with the reading list Bill had given him folded up in his pocket with all of the titles marked out. There was another car in the driveway, as Bill said that if he was going to be leaving, someone would have to stay with his mother. Tom assumed it was the uncle Bill didn't like to talk about. Tom honked and Bill bounded out of the house, driver's manual in hand and slid into the passenger seat of the car.
Tom had asked Bill weeks before why he'd never learned to drive, to which Bill had answered "Who's going to teach me? My mom?" Tom had volunteered to teach him, but Bill was wary. His only knowledge of Tom's driving ability involved wrecking into a pond. He told Tom so, and after pretending to be hurt for a moment, Tom had set about trying to convince him to let him teach him. After all, he'd been driving a bus full of books around with no problems and he hadn't managed to wreck his bicycle yet. Tom really wanted to teach Bill, so Bill decided that if Tom wanted to teach him so badly, he could do something Bill wanted first. That was when Bill had given Tom the list. It included fifteen of his favorite books and Tom was going to have to read them. Tom had rolled his eyes and agreed, but had shown up the next time he went to see Bill with the driver's manual. Bill was going to have to do some reading, too.
"Hey Tom, did you know I apparently have a car?"
"Really?"
"Well, technically it's mom's, but uncle Roger has been paying the insurance on it ever since he's been the one dealing with the bills because he thought either she'd get better and start driving again or I'd want it. So, yeah, I hadn't seen it in so long that I kinda forgot about it, but there's an old Civic in the garage just waiting for someone to drive it."
"Well, do you want to learn in that, then?"
"I'm not letting you drive my car, Tom."
"Fine."
An hour and a half later, Bill rushed out to where Tom waited on a bench in the hallway of the courthouse, waving a small plastic card around and doing a happy dance. Tom hadn't seen Bill this excited before and he couldn't help but be excited, too. Tom stood and was thoroughly hugged and the two exited laughing from the courthouse.
"Ready to drive?" Tom asked. Bill looked suddenly nervous. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Come on. I know you can do it."
"Okay fine. I'll try not to kill us. Don't hate me if I kill you?"
"I won't hate you if you kill me. Maybe if you kill my car..."
"No, you're not allowed to hate me! No matter who or what I may kill!"
"Let's just go, you just wanna drive home?"
"I've never been to your place. Let's go there."
Tom was about to say yes when he realized what Bill was doing. "Bill, I live across the street."
"See, it's safer to drive to your place. Fewer chances for me to kill people or your car."
"You can drive to my place from your house. Let's go." Bill stared blankly at Tom. "Start the car, Bill. Put the key in. Okay good. Put your foot on the break and put the car in reverse."
"Oh, God, I have to back up."
"You'll be fine, you just have to turn this way and look out the back window. Good, if there's nothing there, slowly back out. But be sure to keep an eye on the front, too, though. Make sure you're not gonna hit that guy's shiny SUV."
Bill stopped backing up. "How am I supposed to watch the front and the back at the same time? I'm gonna kill your car, Tom, I can't do it."
"Come on Bill, she can take it. I'm pretty sure she can handle anything as long as you don't drive her into a pond. And there is no pond around. Come on, just be careful."
After a few moments of jerky maneuvering, they were finally out of the space. "I did it! I backed out of a space!"
"Good job, Bill, but we're facing the wrong direction now," Tom said, chuckling. Bill looked disappointed, "Don't worry, we can just drive around the back of the building, it's fine."
***
"Hey, Tom," Bill began, as he and Tom ate ice cream on Bill's front porch a few weeks later, "Remember that girl from high school I ran into awhile ago at the mall?" The mall a couple of towns over was one of the places Bill had driven on one of his many driving lessons. Tom remembered the girl they'd run into at the bookstore who had been so surprised to see her old friend. She'd said it had been so long since anyone she knew had seen him she thought he must have moved.
"I remember. She was cute."
"Uh, okay, anyway, she wants to start hanging out again, so I'm going to a movie with her and some other people this weekend. I hate to ask, but I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor."
"Sure, what do you need?"
"Well, Uncle Roger won't be in town, so there won't be anyone to stay with mom. I wondering if maybe you could stay with her."
"Is that a good idea? She doesn't really know me. What if she gets upset?"
"Then call me and I'll come home immediately. I can deal with her if she gets to be too much for you. But she should be fine, she just sits around watching soap operas and stuff all day or sometimes she reads, all you really have to do is make sure she eats and doesn't wander off on her own."
"Does she do that?"
"She hasn't in a long time, but it still worries us."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Why haven't you guys put her in a hospital or something?"
"We feel like as long she's not doing anything we can't handle, we should take care of her ourselves. It just seems wrong to hand her off to a bunch of strangers to let them deal with her as long we still can deal with her."
"But she's not getting any better, is she? Has she just been sitting around watching soap operas for seven years? Because that's not a life, Bill. You should at least take her to a therapist that can tell you what to do to help her. Because, as much as you love your mom, you're not a doctor."
"I see what you're saying, but it's my job to worry about mom, not yours."
"It's not your job, either, you're a kid. It's your job to go to college and live with a weird roommate for a year before you can get a place of your own and have a life. Neither of you have a life right now, and she possibly could get better and have a life and I know for sure you could."
"Right now, we're fine. Thanks for your concern but we're fine. Look, if she get's worse, I'll talk to Uncle Roger about taking her to a doctor, but until then then, she's okay and I'm okay and we're fine. So are you going to site with her for a few hours Saturday or not?"
"Sure."
***
Saturday found Tom alone in Bill's kitchen fixing supper for Bill's mother. She was in the living room watching television and Tom had spent a bit of time upstairs in Bill's room looking at his books. Now he was reheating food. Bill had cooked earlier in the day so that Tom wouldn't have to put in too much effort, so all Tom was doing now was sticking a baking pan in the oven and setting a timer.
"Where's Bill?" asked a voice that startled Tom. He jumped and burned his hand on the preheated oven rack. He turned to face Bill's mother, who was standing in the doorway.
"He's out with a friend. Rachel, a girl he knew in high school. He'll be back soon, don't worry."
"He's out with a girl?"
"Yeah, but I don't think it's a date or anything, there's a whole group they're going with."
"It's not a date, Bill's a fag."
Tom tensed at sound of a word that just rubbed him the wrong way, especially coming from someone who was describing their child. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't. He just set the timer for the food and stared at it, watching the seconds go by.
"It doesn't bother you that my son's a fag?"
"Not at all. He's a lot of other things, too, you know. He's so smart and he's a really sweet kid and he works his ass off taking care of you even though all you can come up with to say about him is that he's a--" Tom couldn't get the word out, "That he's gay."
"But he's a fag and a pervert, Tom, and you're friends with him."
"Please stop using that word. There are much less offensive ways to get that across."
"You know he and Roger--"
"I don't want to hear about this," Tom interrupted, "I'll be back down here when your food is ready. Do you need anything, while I'm here?" Tom barely waited for an answer before he hurried off to Bill's room. He had interrupted Bill's mother before she could tell him about something he already suspected, but it was none of his business unless Bill chose to tell him about it. He was relieved at having stopped the revelation before it happened because he was in no way ready to hear it confirmed.
As he headed up the stairs, Bill's mother called after him "It's why his father died, you know!"
***
Tom was woken later that night by Bill shaking him gently.
"Hey, how was your night?" Tom asked smiling as he sat up in Bill's bed.
"Oh, it was so much fun! I hadn't hung out with Rachel in so long, I'd kind of forgotten what a good friend she used to be. The others that we met up with were from school, too, and it was so good to see them again. It's just so hard to go anywhere, you know, with mom... I'm so glad I got to see my friends again. Thanks, Tom, for staying with mom. How was she?"
"Kinda rude, actually."
"Well, yeah, she's not much for conversation these says, but you knew that."
"Oh, no we talked. We just didn't get along."
"Oh. What did she say?"
Tom was conflicted. He was more sure than ever that Bill's mother's problems required professional help and he knew he should tell Bill everything in hopes of Bill finally agreeing. But Bill had just had the first really good day in a very long time. Tom didn't know when he'd seen Bill so happy. He weighed his options.
"Okay, you know I'd only tell you this is I thought it was really important, okay? You know I think she needs help, I've already told you that, but I really think you should reconsider it. She's got problems Bill."
"I know she has problems, Tom," Bill answered, his excitement from the evening evaporating instantly.
"She said some pretty awful things about you. For one thing, she called you a fag over and over again."
"Well, I mean, that's true, right?" It obviously made Bill sad, but he was still trying to defend his mother.
"She outright blamed you for your dad's death."
"She-- why?"
"I don't know, something about you and... Roger."
Bill froze trying hard not to start crying. "Oh my God, she's totally right, though, Tom, I did kill him. I didn't know she she knew about that, though."
"You didn't kill him, it was a car accident."
"But he was so mad..." Bill trailed off and lost the fight against the tears, "I didn't have to tell him about Roger. If I hadn't told him about Roger he wouldn't have been so mad. I think he was going to kill him, but he got killed instead, didn't he?"
Tom grabbed the closest part of Bill, his hand, and pulled him to him so he could hug him. "Hey, he was doing his job as your dad and being someone's parent comes with risks. He knew that when he decided to be a parent. You didn't do anything wrong, all you did was trust in your dad to take care of you, which is why you confided in him. And he should have been mad. Hell, I'm pretty mad about it too. I can't say I blame him for storming out to go after him. It's not your fault, he was just being a dad."
"But the other thing--"
"That wasn't your fault either."
"But I let him--"
"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what you wanted or didn't want or what you let him do or didn't let him do, you were a kid, you didn't know any better. He was the one in control and he's the one whose fault this whole thing is. Look, if he hadn't done that to you, your dad would still be around. You didn't kill your dad, Roger did."
Bill didn't answer at first but he looked over at the clock. "Oh, you have to go, don't you?"
"No, I don't have anywhere to be."
"You have to work in the morning, though."
"Well, I'll be sleepy at work, won't I? Don't worry about me, if you need me here with you, I'll be here with you."
***
"Hey, why did you underline this?" Tom asked Bill, holding out Bill's worn copy of Julius Caesar that he had borrowed some weeks later. He was pointing to a line that read "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves..."
"I don't know. I liked it. I don't know." He paused. "I don't know. I guess it basically means that you bring all your problems onto yourself. You can't blame the universe for your problems. The fault's not in our stars but in us."
"Okay, cool, but that's complete shit and you know it. Sometimes the universe deals you a really shitty hand and you can't do anything about it. Sometimes stuff's your own fault, but like, look at you. I mean, if I made a list of all the problems you have that I know about, I bet only like ten percent of them are your own fault. I mean it's not your fault you can't find a job, right? You've applied at about a billion places and clearly you don't control the economy, so it's not your fault it sucks and no one is hiring."
"Thanks for not using the example I though you going to use."
"Felt like a bad idea."
"It's really good that I can talk to you about that, though. I've never had anyone to tell about that since dad."
"I can't believe your mom, though."
"She's not that kind of person, though. She's just really messed up about dad, though. That's not the real her saying all that stuff. We got along great before. She's not happy, though. I thought that's just how people are when they lose someone, but I'm happy now."
"Are you?" Tom was glad to hear it. He tried hard to make Bill happy.
"I am and I think she could be, too. I'm gonna talk to Roger about checking her in someplace. He'd pay for it. He's a complete ass but he likes playing the hero and taking care of mom, so if I can get him on board, at least I won't have to worry too much about her. Plus with her in a place where I know she's getting help, if I could just find a job, I'd never have to see him again."
"Try the library. That librarian lady loves you. We can walk over in the morning if you want. Maybe I can finally get the rest of the Reading List Part 2 while we're there."
"Does it bug you that I keep making you read books?"
"If it bugged me, I wouldn't do it. Books are something you're passionate about and it's good for you to be able to geek out about things you love. Plus, I've really learned a lot about you just based on the books you pick out. And learning things about you is a hobby I like to geek out about."
Bill smiled and blushed at that. "Oh, and was that a minute ago you inviting me to stay?"
"That was."
Bill just snuggled deeper into Tom's embrace, glad that with all the faults in his stars and in himself, that at least the universe had seen fit to bring him Tom.
Author: ????
Pairing(s): Tom/Bill
Rating: PG
Warnings: Abuse, Non-Con/Rape, Pedophilia
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Summary: Bill spends nearly all of his time caring for his mother and the rest either looking for work or reading. He depends on the local library's bookmobile for his sanity. When the bookmobile gets a new driver, will the new guy be the annoying jerk he first seems to be or will he be the friend Bill so badly needs? Also, warnings are just mentioned in the past tense, nothing graphic here.
FQF Prompt: 82. Tom/ Bill - set in Scotland or in some other beautiful, preferably very rural area: In a small village somewhere in Scotland ( or elsewhere) lives a shy but very intense boy Bill with his believed-to-be-crazy mother. His only joy in life is reading books that he regularly borrows from a buss library regularly arriving to their village on Mondays. One day the buss driver ends up in hospital and there's nobody to replace him.
Tom is a cocky, troubled young man, living in a town next to Bill's village, not caring too much about anything else rather than having fun with his buddies, driving fast cars, getting laid and occasionally drunk. When he gets caught for drunk driving, he is sentenced to community service. Tom gets to take over the duties of the library bus driver. For a period of four months. He hates everything about it, he hates countryside, he hates old ladies coming to borrow their books, he even hates books themselves. One day he meets Bill........... they are so different, they have so little in common ...... and yet, fascination strikes and maybe something more.... all the rest is up to the author:-) - submitted by fleur_de_ylang
Author's notes: The book referred to in the story, An Imperial Affliction, does not actually exist, it was made up by author John Green as a thing for his characters to talk about in his own book, The Fault in Our Stars, from whence came the title of this story of mine. A few concepts are borrowed from The Fault in Our Stars, but rest assured this is a very different story. For one thing, no one is dying of cancer, so there's that. This is the first thing I've managed to finish in a very long time, so enjoy!
Sometimes, when Bill couldn't quite remember what his mother's voice sounded like or what his father looked like, he would dig out the home movies from his childhood and watch them until he cried. He would try to imagine his father's hair turning grey or him putting on weight or growing a beard. He wondered how time would have changed the man, were he still around. He wondered what pearls of wisdom his mother would share with him if she could still speak. And then, he would turn off the video and re-bury it in the attic and go to his room and hide away in the stack of books on his nightstand that he had borrowed from the local public library's bookmobile.
The bookmobile came by every Monday afternoon and it was the only thing he had to look forward to all week while he cared for his mother, tried in vain to find work, and had no one to talk to but his uncle Roger. He wasn't close to his uncle. He was Bill's father's brother and Bill's financial support ever since his father had died and his mother had stopped mothering. Bill was grateful to Roger but he didn't like him. Bill would rather be homeless than have to be around his uncle, but he had his mother to think about. Until Bill found work, he had to accept Roger's help, otherwise what would become of his mother? She barely had the motivation to eat when Bill brought her food, much less the motivation to actually care for herself.
One August Monday after filling out job applications online all morning, Bill packed up the five books on his nightstand and trudged down his long driveway to the street and took a left up the narrow side road he lived on toward the main road where the bookmobile would stop at the corner to receive the books that Bill had borrowed and lend him five more. This time, however, Bill arrived at the corner and waited, but there was no sign of the old school bus that had been brightly repainted and emblazoned with the library's logo. Maybe it was running late today. He waited. He took a seat on a tree stump for a moment before fearing that the bus would come and pass him by because the driver couldn't see him. He leaned on the mailbox of the house on the corner as he got tired of standing. The owner came out and told him to get off of their property, so Bill moved back to the actual corner by the street sign, but still the bus didn't come. After a few cars passing by tried to pick him up thinking he was a hitchhiker and it started to lightly rain, Bill finally gave up and headed for home, though he kept glancing over his shoulder, sure that the bus would come now that he'd given up, because that was the kind of luck Bill had.
Bill returned to the spot where he waited for the bookmobile for two more Mondays in a row with the same result and almost didn't return a fourth time, resigning himself to having to re-read the same five books forever. Good thing he'd checked out some of his favorites again last time the bookmobile had come. In the end, a little later than usual, Bill rushed out the door with his books and arrived at the corner just as the familiar bus appeared.
Bill climbed aboard, startled to see someone other than the usual elderly man driving the bus.
"Evening," the new driver, a young man in his twenties, greeted Bill.
"Hi," Bill replied shyly, handing his books to the man and moving past him to see the books on the shelves. The library never really bothered to update the books so Bill had read most of them at some point over the last several years. Bill knew, of course, that he could request any books in the main library's catalog and that the bookmobile would have them for him the following week, but for the most part, he was content to re-read his favorites. This time, however, the driver presented him with a ratty paperback.
"You requested this? Bill, right? I just assumed since the note said it was for this stop and you're the only one here."
"Maybe the other people gave up since you haven't been here for three weeks in a row," Bill said honestly, "But thanks, that book is for me."
"So you're that Bill."
"I guess so," Bill said, returning to the books on the shelves.
"Don't blame me," Tom began after a moment, "You know, for now being here. I just got this job a few days ago."
He was met with silence.
"I'm Tom," the driver said, trying once more to engage Bill in conversation.
"Nice to meet you, Tom," Bill said never looking away from the books until a moment later. "Where's An Imperial Affliction? Is it checked out?"
"Oh, no, it's up here," Tom said, heading for the driver's seat where he found the book in question. "Did you know the ladies at the senior center in town have their book club meetings actually in the bus? Yeah, I had to stay for that, so I grabbed a random book to occupy myself."
Bill sighed, "An Imperial Affliction is not a 'random book.'"
"So you like it?"
Bill gave Tom a look that said quite clearly "Duh."
"It's all right so far," Tom said smirking. Maybe insulting his favorite book was the way to get the boy talking.
"Are you planning on finishing it or can I check it out?"
"Oh, no, I'm gonna finish it," Tom said with mock eagerness.
Bill bit his lip in frustration and went back to looking at the shelf. He knew it was probably silly to get upset about some random guy joking around about and keeping from him a book that wasn't even his and he knew that Tom had know way of knowing that he was messing with one of only two things that mattered to Bill in the world. He couldn't help it, though. This was his favorite book and he had been looking forward to reading it again for nearly a month now and he was losing it to some jerk who thought it was just "all right."
Bill took his time choosing his four other books and handed them to Tom to check out and didn't speak as the due date was stamped onto the cards in the back of each book. Then, he placed the books into his bag and began the long walk home.
***
The following Thursday night, Tom was riding a bicycle for the first time in years and hating that he had to travel such a hilly road. He wasn't a huge fan of rural areas, preferring to live in town, which, while not a big city, at least had businesses and homes close together (unlike here, where the homes were quite a distance apart, some even having fields with horses separating them) and was comparatively flat. He turned a corner and began looking for the right mailbox while preparing to throw himself into the ditch at the side of the road should a car come down the narrow road. He found the mailbox with the last name he was looking for, which he was annoyed to see was at the end of a very long driveway that appeared to lead straight up a hill. It looked like a ninety degree angle to Tom's tired eyes, but it was the right place, so he turned onto it. He hopped off of the bike, opting to walk the rest of the way.
When he reached the top of the hill, he parked his bike in the driveway, which was devoid of vehicles. He might have worried that no one was home but there were lights on in the house. Tom stepped up onto the porch and knocked on the door.
A tired looking woman opened the door and stood silently taking in Tom's sweaty appearance.
"Uh..." Tom began, oh-so-eloquently, "I'm looking for Bill?"
The woman glanced over her shoulder into the house as if she, too, were looking for Bill, but said nothing. After a moment, Tom was beginning to feel uncomfortable, but then, the woman stepped aside and gestured for him to come in.
Tom stood awkwardly in the living room looking around at the decor, which reminded him of the seventies, what with the wood paneling and harvest gold accessories. The woman made no move to either find Bill or show Tom where Bill might be.
Suddenly, Bill entered the room carrying a small stack of empty dishes, presumably on his way to the kitchen. At first he didn't notice Tom, but when he did, he jumped, knocking a glass and a bowl off of the stack. He scrambled to try and catch them, but the bowl still hit the ground.
"What are you doing here?" Bill asked as he stooped to pick up the bowl.
Tom's eyes lit up as he remembered why he had come. He reached into his very large pants pocket and pulled out the book he held there.
"Oh my God, Bill, this book!" Tom exclaimed.
When Bill saw the book that Tom was holding, An Imperial Affliction, He laughed. "It's good isn't it?"
"Is this copy missing a page or something? Oh my God, don't tell me that bastard Van Houten ended it in mid-sentence."
"He did, though."
Tom just let out an exasperated half yell/half growl as his hand which held the book flailed wildly.
"Why would he do that? How are we supposed to figure out what happened to Anna? What about the Dutch Tulip Man? Not cool. Not cool at all."
"Well, I guess we can assume she died. Or she got too sick to keep writing."
"And that was the only way to get that across?"
"I think it's beautiful, Tom. You don't always get to wrap everything up before you die. Sometimes it's sudden and in the middle of a sentence."
"I'll go to Holland and kill Van Houten in the middle of a sentence if he doesn't clarify a few things."
"Tom, you can't go killing authors just because you don't like how they end their books. Let me go put these away and we can talk about it." Bill left with his dishes, leaving Tom awkwardly alone with the still-silent woman.
He came back shortly and headed up the stairs, motioning for Tom to follow. Bill's room, Tom noticed when they arrived, was kind of depressing. The walls were white with nothing hanging on them and the place was incredibly clean. There was a desk in the corner with a gray laptop and not much else on it.
Bill sat on his bed and Tom pulled out the chair at the desk and turned it to face Bill. It was getting dark already but Tom ended up hanging around and discussing An Imperial Affliction for hours, Tom certain the Dutch Tulip Man was a fraud that only wanted Anna's mother's money and Bill sure he was just a tulip farmer in love. They discussed what might have become of Anna's family after the story ended and after Anna had presumably died. Bill seemed especially concerned for Anna's mother, wondering if she was able to have a life after her daughter was gone. Tom swore she was fine, but Bill wasn't so sure.
"Sometimes when you suffer a really big loss," Bill said hours later, "You just kinda of break. Sometimes you move on and you're okay, but sometimes you just freak out and quit functioning. I need to know what Anna's mom did when she lost Anna."
Sensing Bill was thinking about something more personal than some book, Tom took a risk and asked, "So who did you and your mom lose? And what did you do?"
Bill was quiet for a minute, not sure which part of the story he should begin with. In the end, all he said was "Dad was in a car accident. When I was twelve."
"So what do you think Anna's mom did?"
"Maybe the same thing as my mom. You saw her."
"Are you seriously that concerned for the well-being of a fictional character? You're seriously afraid that Anna's mom is unhappy somewhere in Fictional Book Land?"
"I don't know, my mom and I just handled my dad dying so differently..."
"You want to know what you're supposed to do?"
"Maybe."
"Peter Van Houten probably doesn't know shit about how to handle death the right way and even if he'd finished his stupid book the right way, it probably wouldn't have told you much. Because Anna was a kid. It's different losing your kid or your friend or your sister or whatever than it is to lose your dad. And she was really sick for a long time and your dad was in an accident after being, I assume, pretty much healthy. It's a totally different situation, you can't try to live your life by it."
"You're probably right, but I'm still really worried about her."
"Anna's mom or your mom?"
"Both."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Sure."
"Does she talk at all?"
"I hear from my Uncle Roger that she talks a little at church, which is the only time she leaves the house. So it sounds like it's just me she doesn't want to talk to."
"Who takes care of you? I mean, you're just a kid, right?"
"I'm not a kid, I'm nineteen. I take care of myself. Except Uncle Roger pays for all of our expenses."
Tom was tempted to launch into typical-adult mode and lecture Bill on how you're not an adult until you're paying your own way, but this obviously wasn't the time. "Okay, so when you were twelve and your dad had just died and your mom wasn't talking to you anymore, who took care of you?"
"For about a year, there was kind of a rotation of family members that would come by to check on us, but it was really awkward with me being a moody kid who didn't want them around and mom not talking to anyone. After awhile they stopped coming, so Uncle Roger was the only one. And he just gave me money and signed school stuff that I needed a parent for."
"So no one, then," Tom said, probably more bluntly than he should have.
"I guess not," Bill said frowning. "Why?"
"I guess it's not any of my business."
"No, it's not. So how did you end up driving the bookmobile?"
"Well, I don't know what happened to the old guy or anything, but I got the job as kind of... Well, it's not really a punishment per se. I guess the librarian is taking my help with the bookmobile in exchange for her helping me by not getting the police involved in a little bit of a... Well, a little drunk driving incident that ended with my car in her pond and some serious fence damage."
"Wow."
"Don't worry, that's not a mistake I plan on making again. Not that I could right now anyway, with my car pretty much dead."
"Did you walk here or something?"
"Nah, I rode a bike."
"Do you live in town?"
"Yeah, I live pretty close to the library, actually."
"Oh. That's pretty far to ride a bike. Especially with all the hills and all. Hey, I was just thinking. Why would the librarian trust you with a driving job after you drunkenly drove your car into her pond?"
"Well, she was getting pretty concerned about not having a driver for the bookmobile. I'm just a temporary guy while she looks for a new one, but I think she was worried about you not getting your books."
"The librarian was worried about me?" Bill sounded skeptical.
"Well, yeah, you know the bookmobile only bothers to come out this far for you, right? You're the only one that ever comes to that stop. All the others have like whole book clubs, like the senior center, and some are like apartment complexes with a million little kids, but if only one person ever shows up, they usually take that stop off the list, but she likes you."
"Is it still Mrs. Holbrook? Isn't she like four hundred or something? That's who was there when my dad used to take me all the time. Did the book mobile even come out this way before he died? I never noticed because I always had a ride to the library before."
"Yeah, it's still her. And no, she's not four hundred," Tom scolded. "She doesn't look a day over three fifty."
Bill laughed at that. He hadn't smiled a lot that night, but Tom always noticed when he did because he got the feeling he was witnessing something rare and special and only intended for him. Tom decided before he left that his new mission was to find that smile as often as possible.
***
A month later, Tom was replaced on the bookmobile, but not before Bill had made him promise to read all of his favorite books and Tom had read them just to see that rare and lovely smile. As much as he wanted to Bill to be happy, a part of Tom hoped his smiles would always be so rare so that he would never get used to the feeling. A part of him also felt sure that it didn't matter if Bill never stopped smiling because Tom would probably never get used to it anyway.
Tom arrived at Bill's house in his newly fixed car with the reading list Bill had given him folded up in his pocket with all of the titles marked out. There was another car in the driveway, as Bill said that if he was going to be leaving, someone would have to stay with his mother. Tom assumed it was the uncle Bill didn't like to talk about. Tom honked and Bill bounded out of the house, driver's manual in hand and slid into the passenger seat of the car.
Tom had asked Bill weeks before why he'd never learned to drive, to which Bill had answered "Who's going to teach me? My mom?" Tom had volunteered to teach him, but Bill was wary. His only knowledge of Tom's driving ability involved wrecking into a pond. He told Tom so, and after pretending to be hurt for a moment, Tom had set about trying to convince him to let him teach him. After all, he'd been driving a bus full of books around with no problems and he hadn't managed to wreck his bicycle yet. Tom really wanted to teach Bill, so Bill decided that if Tom wanted to teach him so badly, he could do something Bill wanted first. That was when Bill had given Tom the list. It included fifteen of his favorite books and Tom was going to have to read them. Tom had rolled his eyes and agreed, but had shown up the next time he went to see Bill with the driver's manual. Bill was going to have to do some reading, too.
"Hey Tom, did you know I apparently have a car?"
"Really?"
"Well, technically it's mom's, but uncle Roger has been paying the insurance on it ever since he's been the one dealing with the bills because he thought either she'd get better and start driving again or I'd want it. So, yeah, I hadn't seen it in so long that I kinda forgot about it, but there's an old Civic in the garage just waiting for someone to drive it."
"Well, do you want to learn in that, then?"
"I'm not letting you drive my car, Tom."
"Fine."
An hour and a half later, Bill rushed out to where Tom waited on a bench in the hallway of the courthouse, waving a small plastic card around and doing a happy dance. Tom hadn't seen Bill this excited before and he couldn't help but be excited, too. Tom stood and was thoroughly hugged and the two exited laughing from the courthouse.
"Ready to drive?" Tom asked. Bill looked suddenly nervous. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Come on. I know you can do it."
"Okay fine. I'll try not to kill us. Don't hate me if I kill you?"
"I won't hate you if you kill me. Maybe if you kill my car..."
"No, you're not allowed to hate me! No matter who or what I may kill!"
"Let's just go, you just wanna drive home?"
"I've never been to your place. Let's go there."
Tom was about to say yes when he realized what Bill was doing. "Bill, I live across the street."
"See, it's safer to drive to your place. Fewer chances for me to kill people or your car."
"You can drive to my place from your house. Let's go." Bill stared blankly at Tom. "Start the car, Bill. Put the key in. Okay good. Put your foot on the break and put the car in reverse."
"Oh, God, I have to back up."
"You'll be fine, you just have to turn this way and look out the back window. Good, if there's nothing there, slowly back out. But be sure to keep an eye on the front, too, though. Make sure you're not gonna hit that guy's shiny SUV."
Bill stopped backing up. "How am I supposed to watch the front and the back at the same time? I'm gonna kill your car, Tom, I can't do it."
"Come on Bill, she can take it. I'm pretty sure she can handle anything as long as you don't drive her into a pond. And there is no pond around. Come on, just be careful."
After a few moments of jerky maneuvering, they were finally out of the space. "I did it! I backed out of a space!"
"Good job, Bill, but we're facing the wrong direction now," Tom said, chuckling. Bill looked disappointed, "Don't worry, we can just drive around the back of the building, it's fine."
***
"Hey, Tom," Bill began, as he and Tom ate ice cream on Bill's front porch a few weeks later, "Remember that girl from high school I ran into awhile ago at the mall?" The mall a couple of towns over was one of the places Bill had driven on one of his many driving lessons. Tom remembered the girl they'd run into at the bookstore who had been so surprised to see her old friend. She'd said it had been so long since anyone she knew had seen him she thought he must have moved.
"I remember. She was cute."
"Uh, okay, anyway, she wants to start hanging out again, so I'm going to a movie with her and some other people this weekend. I hate to ask, but I was wondering if you could do me a huge favor."
"Sure, what do you need?"
"Well, Uncle Roger won't be in town, so there won't be anyone to stay with mom. I wondering if maybe you could stay with her."
"Is that a good idea? She doesn't really know me. What if she gets upset?"
"Then call me and I'll come home immediately. I can deal with her if she gets to be too much for you. But she should be fine, she just sits around watching soap operas and stuff all day or sometimes she reads, all you really have to do is make sure she eats and doesn't wander off on her own."
"Does she do that?"
"She hasn't in a long time, but it still worries us."
"Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure."
"Why haven't you guys put her in a hospital or something?"
"We feel like as long she's not doing anything we can't handle, we should take care of her ourselves. It just seems wrong to hand her off to a bunch of strangers to let them deal with her as long we still can deal with her."
"But she's not getting any better, is she? Has she just been sitting around watching soap operas for seven years? Because that's not a life, Bill. You should at least take her to a therapist that can tell you what to do to help her. Because, as much as you love your mom, you're not a doctor."
"I see what you're saying, but it's my job to worry about mom, not yours."
"It's not your job, either, you're a kid. It's your job to go to college and live with a weird roommate for a year before you can get a place of your own and have a life. Neither of you have a life right now, and she possibly could get better and have a life and I know for sure you could."
"Right now, we're fine. Thanks for your concern but we're fine. Look, if she get's worse, I'll talk to Uncle Roger about taking her to a doctor, but until then then, she's okay and I'm okay and we're fine. So are you going to site with her for a few hours Saturday or not?"
"Sure."
***
Saturday found Tom alone in Bill's kitchen fixing supper for Bill's mother. She was in the living room watching television and Tom had spent a bit of time upstairs in Bill's room looking at his books. Now he was reheating food. Bill had cooked earlier in the day so that Tom wouldn't have to put in too much effort, so all Tom was doing now was sticking a baking pan in the oven and setting a timer.
"Where's Bill?" asked a voice that startled Tom. He jumped and burned his hand on the preheated oven rack. He turned to face Bill's mother, who was standing in the doorway.
"He's out with a friend. Rachel, a girl he knew in high school. He'll be back soon, don't worry."
"He's out with a girl?"
"Yeah, but I don't think it's a date or anything, there's a whole group they're going with."
"It's not a date, Bill's a fag."
Tom tensed at sound of a word that just rubbed him the wrong way, especially coming from someone who was describing their child. He wasn't sure how to respond, so he didn't. He just set the timer for the food and stared at it, watching the seconds go by.
"It doesn't bother you that my son's a fag?"
"Not at all. He's a lot of other things, too, you know. He's so smart and he's a really sweet kid and he works his ass off taking care of you even though all you can come up with to say about him is that he's a--" Tom couldn't get the word out, "That he's gay."
"But he's a fag and a pervert, Tom, and you're friends with him."
"Please stop using that word. There are much less offensive ways to get that across."
"You know he and Roger--"
"I don't want to hear about this," Tom interrupted, "I'll be back down here when your food is ready. Do you need anything, while I'm here?" Tom barely waited for an answer before he hurried off to Bill's room. He had interrupted Bill's mother before she could tell him about something he already suspected, but it was none of his business unless Bill chose to tell him about it. He was relieved at having stopped the revelation before it happened because he was in no way ready to hear it confirmed.
As he headed up the stairs, Bill's mother called after him "It's why his father died, you know!"
***
Tom was woken later that night by Bill shaking him gently.
"Hey, how was your night?" Tom asked smiling as he sat up in Bill's bed.
"Oh, it was so much fun! I hadn't hung out with Rachel in so long, I'd kind of forgotten what a good friend she used to be. The others that we met up with were from school, too, and it was so good to see them again. It's just so hard to go anywhere, you know, with mom... I'm so glad I got to see my friends again. Thanks, Tom, for staying with mom. How was she?"
"Kinda rude, actually."
"Well, yeah, she's not much for conversation these says, but you knew that."
"Oh, no we talked. We just didn't get along."
"Oh. What did she say?"
Tom was conflicted. He was more sure than ever that Bill's mother's problems required professional help and he knew he should tell Bill everything in hopes of Bill finally agreeing. But Bill had just had the first really good day in a very long time. Tom didn't know when he'd seen Bill so happy. He weighed his options.
"Okay, you know I'd only tell you this is I thought it was really important, okay? You know I think she needs help, I've already told you that, but I really think you should reconsider it. She's got problems Bill."
"I know she has problems, Tom," Bill answered, his excitement from the evening evaporating instantly.
"She said some pretty awful things about you. For one thing, she called you a fag over and over again."
"Well, I mean, that's true, right?" It obviously made Bill sad, but he was still trying to defend his mother.
"She outright blamed you for your dad's death."
"She-- why?"
"I don't know, something about you and... Roger."
Bill froze trying hard not to start crying. "Oh my God, she's totally right, though, Tom, I did kill him. I didn't know she she knew about that, though."
"You didn't kill him, it was a car accident."
"But he was so mad..." Bill trailed off and lost the fight against the tears, "I didn't have to tell him about Roger. If I hadn't told him about Roger he wouldn't have been so mad. I think he was going to kill him, but he got killed instead, didn't he?"
Tom grabbed the closest part of Bill, his hand, and pulled him to him so he could hug him. "Hey, he was doing his job as your dad and being someone's parent comes with risks. He knew that when he decided to be a parent. You didn't do anything wrong, all you did was trust in your dad to take care of you, which is why you confided in him. And he should have been mad. Hell, I'm pretty mad about it too. I can't say I blame him for storming out to go after him. It's not your fault, he was just being a dad."
"But the other thing--"
"That wasn't your fault either."
"But I let him--"
"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter what you wanted or didn't want or what you let him do or didn't let him do, you were a kid, you didn't know any better. He was the one in control and he's the one whose fault this whole thing is. Look, if he hadn't done that to you, your dad would still be around. You didn't kill your dad, Roger did."
Bill didn't answer at first but he looked over at the clock. "Oh, you have to go, don't you?"
"No, I don't have anywhere to be."
"You have to work in the morning, though."
"Well, I'll be sleepy at work, won't I? Don't worry about me, if you need me here with you, I'll be here with you."
***
"Hey, why did you underline this?" Tom asked Bill, holding out Bill's worn copy of Julius Caesar that he had borrowed some weeks later. He was pointing to a line that read "The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves..."
"I don't know. I liked it. I don't know." He paused. "I don't know. I guess it basically means that you bring all your problems onto yourself. You can't blame the universe for your problems. The fault's not in our stars but in us."
"Okay, cool, but that's complete shit and you know it. Sometimes the universe deals you a really shitty hand and you can't do anything about it. Sometimes stuff's your own fault, but like, look at you. I mean, if I made a list of all the problems you have that I know about, I bet only like ten percent of them are your own fault. I mean it's not your fault you can't find a job, right? You've applied at about a billion places and clearly you don't control the economy, so it's not your fault it sucks and no one is hiring."
"Thanks for not using the example I though you going to use."
"Felt like a bad idea."
"It's really good that I can talk to you about that, though. I've never had anyone to tell about that since dad."
"I can't believe your mom, though."
"She's not that kind of person, though. She's just really messed up about dad, though. That's not the real her saying all that stuff. We got along great before. She's not happy, though. I thought that's just how people are when they lose someone, but I'm happy now."
"Are you?" Tom was glad to hear it. He tried hard to make Bill happy.
"I am and I think she could be, too. I'm gonna talk to Roger about checking her in someplace. He'd pay for it. He's a complete ass but he likes playing the hero and taking care of mom, so if I can get him on board, at least I won't have to worry too much about her. Plus with her in a place where I know she's getting help, if I could just find a job, I'd never have to see him again."
"Try the library. That librarian lady loves you. We can walk over in the morning if you want. Maybe I can finally get the rest of the Reading List Part 2 while we're there."
"Does it bug you that I keep making you read books?"
"If it bugged me, I wouldn't do it. Books are something you're passionate about and it's good for you to be able to geek out about things you love. Plus, I've really learned a lot about you just based on the books you pick out. And learning things about you is a hobby I like to geek out about."
Bill smiled and blushed at that. "Oh, and was that a minute ago you inviting me to stay?"
"That was."
Bill just snuggled deeper into Tom's embrace, glad that with all the faults in his stars and in himself, that at least the universe had seen fit to bring him Tom.