Darn Stupid Brother You Are

(Thomas's POV)

The day started well. I woke up and felt lighter than I had in weeks, maybe because I finally got a decent night's sleep. I even managed to laugh at one of Bundah's stupid jokes during breakfast, and that felt like a miracle on its own. For once, I thought things might be okay.

But then, as I walked down the corridor toward the main lounge, I saw them.

Angel and Hendrix stood in the hallway by the old bulletin board, where we had pinned up notes and little reminders. It was supposed to be a place for the usual, boring stuff, but the way they stood there felt like something out of a romantic movie.

Hendrix leaned against the wall and kept his eyes fixed on Angel with this look. The kind of look that twisted my stomach into knots. She smiled at him and reached up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, and her fingers stayed there a moment longer than needed.

I froze as a sharp pain stabbed at my chest. What was this? I thought I was making progress. I thought I had a chance. But seeing them like this felt like someone pulled the rug right out from under me.

I turned away before they could see me, and the image of them burned into my mind. I needed space and air and something to clear my head, so I walked to the lounge and sank onto one of the worn-out couches. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through it, trying to distract myself from the ache in my chest.

Bundah wandered in later, carrying a deck of cards. "Yo, man, you up for a game?" he asked, and shuffled them in his hands as usual, always trying to lighten the mood.

I barely glanced at him. "Not now."

He sighed and sat down beside me. "Come on, what's eating you?"

"Nothing," I snapped and instantly regretted the sharpness in my voice.

Bundah just shrugged, used to my moods. "Fine. Be like that." He stood up and walked off, and he left me alone with my thoughts. I should've felt bad for brushing him off, but I didn't have the energy to care.

Hours passed. Other patients came and went, and their voices turned into a dull hum in the background, but I didn't pay attention. My mind kept drifting back to Angel. And Hendrix. How close they were. The way she looked at him. It felt like something inside me unraveled, thread by thread.

For some reason, I thought about Felicia, my first crush back in middle school. She was autistic but sweet, cute, kind and everything I thought I wanted. But she never saw me, not the way I saw her. Instead, she chose Bobby, the boy-next-door type who could charm anyone with a smile. They started dating, and a month before I got sent here, I heard they got married.

And now here I was, reliving the same story. It felt like the universe was making me watch as the girl I wanted slipped through my fingers again and again.

I almost thought about sneaking out to find some alcohol, but I knew where that path led. There was a stash in the storage room at the far end of the East Wing. It was dangerous territory, and I knew what it would cost me to go there. The one person I didn't want to face would be waiting, and I wasn't ready for that confrontation yet.

I leaned back and shut my eyes. Maybe if I stayed there long enough, the world would stop spinning. Maybe I'd wake up and find out this was all just some messed-up dream.

"Thomas?"

I jerked up and blinked rapidly as Angel's voice cut through the haze in my mind. She stood there with a can of soda in her hand and looked at me with that familiar warmth that always made my chest tighten. "Hey," she greeted, and her smile was hesitant.

I forced myself to sit up and ignored the way my heart skipped a beat. "Hey."

She took a step closer and didn't take her eyes off me. "Mind if I join you?"

"Go ahead." I gestured to the empty seat beside me even though I fought every instinct to get up and walk away.

She sat down, and the silence stretched between us until I couldn't take it anymore. "What's with you and him?" The words flew out before I could stop them, and I hated how raw they sounded.

"What?" She looked genuinely surprised.

"Don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about." I stood up and took a step back. "You and Hendrix. What's going on? Are you two still..."

She flinched, and something shifted in her eyes-guilt, maybe. "We're just... It's complicated."

"Everything's always complicated with you, isn't it?" I shot back, and the anger I'd been holding back finally came out. "But it shouldn't be. I'm here, Angel. I've been here this whole time. What's so complicated about that?" She opened her mouth to respond, but then closed it, and her eyes darted away. That small gesture cut deeper than I thought it would. Why couldn't she just look at me? Why couldn't she say something that made sense of all this? "You're not even trying to see it, are you?" I muttered and ran a hand through my hair, feeling the frustration build. "I've been right here, waiting, and being patient, and you can't even "

"Thomas, please,” she whispered, and stood up, dropping her can drink on the table. "It's not that simple."

"Why not?" I took a step closer and refused to let her slip away this time. "Why can't you just be honest with me? Why him? What does he have that I don't?"

She looked up, and her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. "It's not about him, okay? It's just... I don't know. Everything's mixed up, and I'm scared."

"Scared of what?" I challenged and stepped closer until there was barely any space between us. "Of actually being happy? Of letting someone care about you?"

She blinked, and her breath hitched. "No... I'm scared of hurting you. Of hurting myself. Of everything falling apart."

I felt my resolve crack. I wanted to be angry, to push her away, but all I saw was how lost she looked. How much she was hurting. And I hated that I couldn't fix it. That I couldn't just pull her into my arms and make everything okay. Without thinking, I reached out and hugged her. She stiffened at first but then relaxed against me, and her head rested on my shoulder. "Why do you always do this to me?" I whispered into her hair, and my voice broke. "Why can't you just choose me?"

"Thomas..." Her voice was so soft and full of pain that it nearly brought me to my knees. "I wish I could."

I pulled back a little and kept my hands on her arms, and I searched her eyes. "Then what's stopping you?"

She didn't answer. She just looked at me, and in that moment, I saw everything she couldn't say. Everything she was too scared to admit.

"I can't do this," she finally whispered and stepped back, pulling herself out of my grasp. "I can't keep hurting you."

I clenched my fists and fought the urge to reach for her again. "You're not hurting me. Not as much as you think."

She shook her head and let the tears slip down her cheeks. "Yes, I am. And I can't live with that." (Angel's POV)

Guilt clawed at my heart and twisted tighter with every word he said. Thomas stood there, looking so hurt and so raw, and all I wanted was to take that pain away. But I couldn't even trust myself to move. My heart was torn between what I wanted and what I knew was wrong.

I couldn't deny how he made me feel-how his kindness warmed me, how he always seemed to be there, and waited patiently. But every time I thought of Hendrix and the bond we shared, I got thrown back into this state of confusion. How could I ever choose?

"Thomas, please..." I whispered, not sure what I was asking for. Maybe for him to understand. Maybe for him to forgive me. I didn't know anymore.

He took a step closer and didn't take his eyes off me, and my heart skipped a beat. I felt the warmth of his hand as he cupped my cheek, and for a moment, I leaned into it and closed my eyes against the storm raging in my chest. "I care about you," he murmured, his breath brushing against my skin. "You know I do. I just wish you'd let me in."

I knew I should pull away and that this wasn't fair to him, but I couldn't. Not now. Not when every inch of me ached for the comfort he offered. "Thomas..."

He leaned in and his lips hovered over mine, and I didn't move. I didn't stop him. I couldn't. There was this part of me, this desperate part, that wanted to feel something, anything other than this confusion.

But just as our lips were about to meet, he froze. He pulled back and searched my eyes. "Why didn't you stop me?" he asked, and his voice sounded rough and filled with something like hope. "Why didn't you say no?" I couldn't answer. I couldn't even look at him.

"That's my answer then," he muttered and let his hand fall away. He stepped back, and the warmth I felt vanished, replaced by the cold air between us. "I guess I've been fooling myself this whole time." "Thomas..." I tried to reach for him, to say something, but he shook his head.

"No, it's okay." He gave me a sad smile that tore right through me. "I get it now."

He took one last look at me, and for a moment, I saw everything I was losing in his eyes. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room, leaving me standing there, my heart in pieces.

I stood there for a long time and felt my legs go numb and my chest ache. Finally, I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead with my fingers, trying to will away the pain, the confusion, and the guilt that wouldn't stop eating at me.