February 14, 1860

I awoke to a loud knocking at my door. My eyes shot open and adrenaline burst into my veins. My heart skipped beats with the hope that the person knocking was Thomas there for Saint Valentine's Day. I jumped off the bed and rushed to the door, not even considering my appearance which was probably unruly. As well, I wasn’t even fully dressed. I was only wearing my trousers and a button-down which was, despite as it should be, unbuttoned. It's not like he should have cared about that anyway. He had seen me naked, exhausted, drunk, and dripping sweat (sometimes all at once).

I swung open the door and saw exactly who I had hoped to see leaning against the door frame with a flirtatious smile. And what a beautiful god he was.

"Hey, didn't expect you," I attempted to pull off casually, but Tom knew better than to believe my terrible acting.

He laughed and grabbed me by my hips, pulled me flush against his body. "As if I believe that for a second. Did you really expect me to desert you on Saint Valentine's Day, the day of lovers?” he whispered seductively.

"Tom, someone will see us,” I scolded him while trying to push him away. Then I finally processed what he said, and I followed up with, “Do you honestly consider us lovers?"

"Why not, Angel?"

"We're two men, Tom. We're not supposed to be like this at all. Lovers at the worst," I sighed. "Now get inside before someone sees."

He gave me a nod before walking past me into the apartment. I took a moment to step outside into the hall and take a quick look around for witnesses I might have had to threaten into silence. Okay, I would have had Tom threaten them, but that’s beside the point.

I turned back inside and stopped to admire the sight of Thomas feeling awkward, standing nervously in my living room like he didn’t quite know where to place himself. He had on a tight grimace of trying to seem fine, and he was shifting too much. Tom didn’t feel or look awkward all too often, but there he was, his smooth façade broken. It’s reasonable though; the last time he was in my home, things didn’t end up in the best conditions.

I smiled at an attempt to make him feel more comfortable and walked to him. I snaked my arms around his waist and leaned against him, almost in a hug, but I was still looking up. He smiled down at me. This time it was a real smile, and it was beautiful. His magnificent eyes like chocolate milk only parted by that one tuft of butterscotch hair that hung down in a soft curl. I reached up and swept the clump of soft hair away, but it fell right back into its place. I sighed at my failure, and Tom just smiled wider and placed a soft kiss on my lips. When we pulled back from each other, I just stared into his beautiful eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” I said.

“I know,” he laughed in response.

I chuckled and laid my head against his chest. "Give me a moment. I have to attend to my mother for a minute.”

"Okay," he whispered.

I let go of him and crossed the place to my mother's room. She was lying on the bed, her breathing slow. I approached her side and sat on the edge of the bed with her. I took her hand in mine. "Ma, how are you feeling?"

"Remember the letter from a few days ago?"

I nod at her. I remember receiving it. We don’t get mail often, so I found it strange. I didn't open it, though, due to it being addressed to my mother.

"Ann was found dead last week, stabbed in a ditch," my mother's voice broke as she tried to explain. "The man she had run off with was held responsible. She abandoned me for a man who was to kill her. She ran off with a demon."

"Well, I'm here for you," I reassured her.

It apparently meant nothing to her seeing as the witch then responded with, "No, no, my precious daughter left me. The only thing I received in return was my disappointment of a son."

I stood up abruptly, and I pointed at her. My mouth opened, but no words came out. She had the fucking audacity...

Then it hit me: My sister wasn’t coming back. Ann was dead.

I felt tears well up in my eyes. I stormed out of the room and into the room where Tom was. When he saw me, he immediately became distressed. "John, oh my... What’s the matter?"

I grabbed his shoulders and buried my face in his chest. I let go. I let go of everything between my mother and Ann. I let it all go, even things that seemed heartless to care about at this moment. I cried that my mother was a bitch to me. I cried that I would now have to stay with her. I cried that I was crying about having to stay with my mother rather than Ann. I felt sad and grieved for Ann, yes, because she was my sister. However, when it’s all said and done, she and I were not close... at all. She never spared me her time, so I never gave her mine. Still, my sister was dead, and that was a tragedy.

Thomas's shirt was doused with tears, but he didn't seem to care. He just tilted my head up with a soft touch under my chin and, with a warm smile, said, "John, tell me.”

So, I did.

"Ann is dead. She was murdered by the son of a bitch she called a lover, which means I have to stay here to take care of this witch for the rest of her fucking life," I told him through gritted teeth. “I can’t do it, Tom. I can’t stay with her. I hate her so much. I just... It’s all bullshit!”

His hand glided from under my chin to the side of my face as he tilted his head with pity. I leaned into his warm touch. Then, my anger grew. I pounded one of my fists into Thomas's chest and muttered a string of curses under my breath. Again, he did not seem to be fazed by this, the curses or the physical assault. He just wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. I nuzzled my cheek against his warm heart and sighed. I wrapped my arms around him as well.

"It's okay. Well, it's not okay. Nothing is okay. Everything is a disaster at the moment, but it will eventually turn back around. It will be okay, but hey, at least you’ll get more time to spend with me,” he consoled me. Then, he pushed me back to arm's length and continued, "I have an idea."

I stepped out of his reach with a skeptical and fearful expression. "It is concerning when you say that, dear."

"Trust in me, darling. Would I ever wrong you?” he asked rhetorically, putting his hands on his hips and raising an eyebrow. I started buttoning up my shirt,

"Yes, yes you would. Tom, I swear to god, if it's sex,” —I shook my head— "I won't be in the mood."

"Don't be ridiculous! It's not sex... pff," he waved his hand, dismissing the notion.

"It was, was it not?"

"Okay, that was a part of it, but never mind that. Just follow me." Tom held out his hand as he walked towards the door. I ran my hand through my hair a few times to attempt to groom myself before hesitantly laying my hand atop his. His grip tightened in on palm as he dragged me out of the apartment door, causing me to nearly lose my footing.