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Death Day’s never got easier.
Julian once compared it to rehab. You spend 364 days of the year moving on, making process. But then one day, it all just falls apart, you’re reminded of what was once and it’s like the past year disappears in the blink of an eye. It didn’t help that they were dead, and for someone like Thomas, the years were beginning to disappear in the blink of an eye.
Fortunately, that all changed when Alison arrived.
Not only did Alison bless Thomas with a personal rekindling (her entire being able to make his never-ending days worth waking up for) but she’d also brought together the odd group of humans he would now call his family.
But even family have their issues.
Thomas was overdramatic, he would be the first to admit that. It’s just how he was. His mother would never pay too much attention if he wasn’t over the top, and publishers never truly paid attention unless he delivered his work with the gravitas of a pantomime actor (before the time of pantomime actors.) And while Thomas was proud of who he was and never tried to shy away, sometimes he wished it was easier for others to get on with him.
It was annoying to know that everytime Thomas would open his mouth, he’d be lucky if even one of the ghosts payed attention to what he truly said.
For the first hundred years or so, Thomas tried to make his death day a big deal, just like his birthday. He’d make sure to announce it at the beginning of October and then spend the entire day trying to talk to the other ghosts about how terrible a death he had. For the first decade or so, they humoured him, assuming this was how Thomas dealt with grief. Once they realised he intended to make this a yearly occurrence, they soon began to get more bitter.
That’s what lead Thomas here, to his lake. He’d spent the morning trying out his shtick on Pat and Alison, but they both dismissed him. He didn’t even bother with the other lot - Robin doesn’t understand, Humphrey can never be found, let's not even start with Julian, Kitty's too positive and Fanny would simply turn his woes into a telling-off. Thomas liked the lake. The lake didn’t tell him off, or judge him, or do anything really. It just stood there, letting Thomas sink into the still waves and bask in the texture upon his pale skin.
He first came to the lake in an attempt of rebellion, trying to once again gain attention. But he soon found that the comforting envelopment of everything and nothingness was a welcome sensation in his "life". Now, he frequented the lake everytime he needed to clear his head or if everything was becoming a bit too routine - he was happy to know he hadn’t gone there as much since Alison arrived. But here he was, neck up in the water, the odd sensation on his skin but ignoring the clothes atop. It was barely lunchtime, so he’d probably be able to stay here until sundown before he should return to his quarters.
Thomas closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. He let his mind wander with memories from the years. Memories from those years. Memories of Isabelle. Memories of the tree. Memories of the sun. Memories of the copper clogging his throat..
“Thorne?”
A voice sharply cut through his thoughts, causing Thomas to loose his footing on the mud below and dip under the water; he didn’t actually drown, it’s not physically possible, but the odd watery sensation getting in his face (yet not wetting and ruining his curly locks) served the same idea as him getting a mouthful of lake water. Thomas peeked up from the waterline, and stood at the edge was The Captain, stick gripped in his hands as he kneeled down so he was almost at eye line with Thomas.
“Captain?” Thomas replied, genuinely shocked at the other man’s presence. Never, in any of the times he had came out to the lake, had another ghost came and retrieved him. They all just left him to his business, like they did at his sighing spot, or desk in the library, or his room - come to think of it, when was the last time someone had sought out Thomas specifically (and no, Captain rounding everyone up for Food Club didn’t count).
“Well, you coming out or what?” The Captain asked, seemingly aloof to how shocked Thomas was. But Thomas didn’t need to hear that twice. He quickly waded through the waters, practically running to join the Captain. “Well, to what do I owe this pleasure? Or have you come to ruin me on this fated day? Well, I know what to say exactly to that, you haddock, damn your ey-”
“No, no, just thought you could do with some company, is all.” Thomas stopped in his rant. It isn’t often that Thomas would admit he was wrong, but he was wrong. “But if you’d prefer to stay in the lake, I understand. I cannot do much comfort, but I can offer my presence.” The Captain turned to Thomas, a smile on his face as he rearranged his stick back underneath his arm. The Captain had been on a positive streak recently, ever since he’d openly talked about his passing he seemed far more happy, more open to things. A few weeks ago he had even missed club time, saying he was so caught up people-watching he simply forgot about his routine.
“If you are certain, I suppose we could, stroll about.” Thomas bowed, indicating for the Captain to lead the way. The two of them slowly walked about the lake, shoulder to shoulder, in relative silence. Thomas was still perplexed at his appearance, but the Captain acted as if this sudden act of kindness was a regular occurrence for the two of them. The Captain eventually lead the two to a grassy field with an oak tree stood proudly near the right, the extensive woods just up ahead on the left. Even though the tree looked nothing like the tree he died upon, he couldn’t help but notice the similarities in the two. He could basically see himself laid upon there, hands grasping his waistcoat as the blood slipped between his fingers, a throbbing starting in his chest and ending in his head, and whispers of his cousin in his ears before he too disappeared, the cheerfully blue sky and too bright sun being the last thing to graze his eyes before the pain became too much to bear.
“Thomas?” The Captain was suddenly in front of him, mouth downturned as he held tightly onto the shorter man’s shoulders. It took a moment for Thomas to force his eyes away from the tree and for his heart to stop feeling like it was pounding and more blood was gushing out of the hole in his chest. He looked at the Captain’s face, concern glazed over his eyes, and that seemed to snap him out of it.
“You called me Thomas?” Was all he could say. The Captain let out a smile, stifling a chuckle. “You weren’t responding. I was going to sit under the shade, but I can see now that it wasn’t a, well it wasn’t my greatest command.” This time Thomas let out a chuckle, waving his hand in both embarrassment for himself and embarrassment for the Captain. The Captain brought his hands back down - Thomas wished he could grab his arms and place them back there and bask in the touch of another... that was a weird thought, and yet he still craved the mans hand's on his body.
The Captain lifted one arm, staring into Thomas’ eyes the entire time, and placed his hand over the wound in his chest, hesitating for a moment before applying a bit of pressure onto it. “I, bally hell, I’m not sure this is helping, but I gave Pat a massage on his neck once and he said it was nice. Maybe he just liked the massage, I’m sorry.” The Captain went to pull away, but this time Thomas let his instincts act and grabbed the hand, placing it back where it was and letting his own hand lie over the Captain’s own. “It is nice, but, a hug would be nicer.”
After a moment of silence, where Thomas debated whether or not he should joke his comment off, spout some poetry and then run back to his lake, the Captain moved his one arm to rest on the curve of Thomas’ back, tucking his stick away in his belt and bringing the other arm to his shoulder and wrapping Thomas up in a tight hug, the two men chest to chest. Thomas quickly reciprocated, throwing his own arms around the Captain, squeezing him impossibly tight, but the Captain didn’t complain a word.
“Thanks, James.” Thomas muttered into his shoulder, smiling as much as if this was Alison he was hugging. But, maybe even better. The Captain held onto him like he intended for no one to ever lay a hand on Thomas, which made Thomas smile even more and tuck his head even further into the Captain’s shoulder. “Anytime, Thomas. I mean it.”
Perhaps Death Day’s could get easier.