Chapter 1: Thomas

A/N: 26.04.20

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*Thomas's pov*

"You bent my favorite spoon!" shrieked Elle.

"It was an accident. An accident!" I shouted back for the hundredth time. Okay, maybe not the hundredth, but you get the point. My older sister, Elle, wouldn't stop pestering me about her stupid bent spoon. Why couldn't she just use a different one?

"How do you even bend a metal spoon?" she whined, still staring at her crooked spoon as if it would miraculously repair if she stared hard enough.

"The ice cream was too hard and when I tried to scoop it out, and, well, it bent. Okay?"

"Why do you think we have an ice cream scooper?!"

I blinked. Wait, since when do we have an ice cream scooper? But there was no time to be surprised, I wasn't going to let Elle win this argument. Nu-uh hunny bunny, not today.

"Who has time for ice cream scoopers?!" I demanded. "Elle, it was three in the morning and I was hungry. No, I was starving. Do you really think I had the time to open the kitchen drawers and look for an ice cream scooper (that I didn't even know existed) when there was a perfectly clean spoon on the counter?"

"IT'S BENT."

"Not when I found it."

Elle and I started bickering about her spoon while angrily eating our breakfast. She told me how lazy and selfish I was and I chewed with a mouthful of Cheerios while pinching the air with my fingers, opening and closing my hand to mimic her mouth movement to tell her that she was blabbering too much. Real mature, I know.

"Goodmorning," squeaked a voice. Elle and I shut up as soon as we heard our little sister walk down the stairs, holding her dirty stuffed animal by the ears.

Her doll was supposed to be a bunny but it looked more like a rag than anything Still, she refused to let me wash it because apparently that would wash away all the luck it brought her.

10-year-old logic, don't ask.

"Hey, Molly," beamed Elle, becoming a completely new person. I rolled my eyes in disgust. "What do you want for breakfast, Molly?" She spoke in her sweet, big sister voice that she used only with Molly. With me, she used her gorilla voice.

"Well, I gotta get to class," I said, getting up from my chair.

"You better buy me another spoon," snapped Elle from under her breath, low enough for only me to hear.

"Alright, alright," I sighed, raising my hands in defeat. I went over to Molly and kissed her on the head before ruffling her messy bed hair. "See ya later kid. Be good, okay?"

Molly gave me a small nod, still not fully awake. But she was awake enough to raise Mr. Bunny (very original name) towards me. I tried not to scowl at the rag- I mean, her stuffed bunny.

"Mr. Bunny wants a goodbye kiss, too," she said tiredly. I glanced towards the stuffed animal with beady eyes, the color of its fur the same color as its black eyes.

"Sorry, kiddo, I don't kiss boys," I chuckled. My heart dropped when Molly frowned in disappointment and I could feel Elle's burning gaze from behind.

"Why not?" she asked with her wide, innocent eyes.

"Er, because..." I said. I'm not gay. But Molly seemed too young to really know what being gay meant. "Boys don't kiss boys. Well, except for some. But I'm not part of that some, I belong with the other group that prefer kissing g-"

"Thomas, just kiss the bunny!" Elle snapped from behind. I held back a groan.

"Alright, alright, I'll make an exception," I sighed, quickly pecking her stuffed animal on the head.

I might need to scrub my lips before leaving.

But the wide smile that spread across my little sister's lips was worth it. Her green eyes brightened like spring and her rosy cheeks reminded me how young she was. I returned the smile with a wink, tousling her hair again out of habit, before heading to my room. I quickly washed up and changed, picking up my bag and heading out.

My sisters and I lived alone in a shabby house located in a shady part of the city because the rent was cheaper. Our parents, both almost nonexistent, were never really part of our lives so we learned to watch out for each other. Elle was the oldest out of us three, 21 years-old. I was 16 and Molly was 10. Shit, our baby sister was growing up real fast.

We weren't the richest kids in the neighborhood; struggled to make ends meet, both Elle and I scrabbling whatever part-time jobs fit our schedule to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table, but we were happy. Hey, who said the poor couldn't be happy? Who needed the newest iPhone or the latest technology when you had bent spoons and dirty stuffed animals? Yeah, we were fine just the way we were.

The further I walked down the street, the less shabby the neighborhood became. The houses and buildings were better built and more luxurious the closer you were to the city, and after thirty minutes of walking, there wasn't a trace of run-down buildings that resembled my house.

I turned around the corner, humming the Dora Explorer theme song which was stuck in my head since last night (I had to get Molly to fall asleep somehow, didn't I?).

"Do, do, do, do, do, Dora, hey! Dora, Dora, Dora The Explorer, hmm, hmm," I sang, jumping onto the sidewalk. But something shiny on the ground reflected the sunlight, catching my attention. I squinted my eyes to get a better look and almost gasped.

Is that a quarter I see?!

It wasn't much but hey, 20 more of these and I could get myself a free Big Mac.

I crouched down and smiled widely when I picked it up, studying the coin as if I had just found the most precious ruby.

"Must be my lucky day," I grinned to myself.

But I spoke too soon.

When I stood back up, I heard someone shouting and before I could grasp ahold of what was going in, a bike crashed into me.

Everything happened in slow motion, a totally dramatic action movie type of slow-mo. My eyes widened as I saw my quarter fly into the air, but before I could grasp it, I crashed to the ground hitting my shoulder and head hard against the pavement. Whoever crashed into me had an easier fall, landing on top of me and thus, crushing me under his weight and knocking the air out of my lungs.

His bicycle? Gone. Grew wings and flew like a bird into the air, falling a good one or two-meter away.

"Ouch," I groaned, rubbing the back of my head. Is that blood?!

When I looked up, my eyes widened as I met the brightest pair of eyes I'd ever seen in my life inches away from mine. He was beautiful. Maybe he knocked into me so hard that I lost some sense of logic, but the first word that popped in my mind was beautiful.

The stranger looked young, around my age. His wavy, gold hair that curled at the tips fell over his forehead that almost touched mine when he looked up. He had the brightest pair of fierce blue eyes that drowned me, and for a few seconds, I felt like I couldn't breathe.

I realized that the reason I couldn't breathe wasn't because of the intensity in his gaze, but because his hands were pressing against my chest.

Shit, was that why I was blushing? Must be.

But little did I know, the most angelic-looking being was also the most arrogant one I'd meet, because the first sentence he said to me wasn't an apology. Nope, no siree, not even a glimpse of remorse. He looked at me, his eyes now furious, and shouted in my face (a spit flying into my eye): "What the hell is wrong with you?!"

What a twat.

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