Requested by: Thomas-Jefferson

"He insulted you in public! Doesn't that bother you just the slightest bit?"

Thomas barely had any strength to hold his tongue any longer. His dear friend, Francis, joined him on a trip into town and realized exactly what the public eye saw of him. It had caused a fire to ignite in the man, making him impatient and determined to get his way.

"The people can think anything of me for all I care." He rubbed his chin, nervously avoiding eye contact with his partner. "You don't need to get involved, that's all." Shoving aside a few unopened packages at his doorstep, Thomas rushed to open the door.

He desperately wanted to hide in his room for the entirety of the next few hours. But that didn't seem likely to happen with the shorter, determined guy on his heel.

"I'm not going to let it slide." Francis followed the man into the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He watched the red head dart back and forth, trying to seem busy and unable to talk. The place was rather tidy, but the second a stressed Thomas came in, things became the opposite.

"Oh, won't you just leave me be?!"

Crash. Shattered pieces of a china plate fell to the floor of the apartment. Thomas covered his face, groaning out loud. The plate had been given to him by his ex.

He had been meaning to get rid of it, but it seemed he didn't need to do that anymore.

Wincing, he scrambled forward to collect the remaining bits and pieces. A little voice inside of him whispered about how Francis didn't seem to be helping in cleaning up. What a friend he is. Thomas slammed his hand down, not thinking and slicing a piece of the material into his flesh.

"Dammit!" He stumbled back onto the sofa cushions. Francis acted quickly, putting aside their conversation beforehand. Assisting Thomas to a comfortable position, he made sure the wound wasn't exposed to anything else that might infect it.

After rushing back and forth between the couch and the tiny kitchen, he managed to get an ice pack for the wounded man.

A few minutes passed. Neither man spoke a word, fearing the other might snap or begin another argument again. Francis knew how his short temper could cause issues. It always did.

"Ever since the fling with Sally, I haven't been able to go out into public with feeling shamed in my own skin," Thomas's hushed voice finally broke the silence. Raising his body up higher on the cushions, he stared at the back of his friend's head tiredly.

"People only care for the drama stained in your jacket, Thomas. She's gone, that's for sure. And she ain't coming back so why should you worry over such a silly thing?" Francis turned around, giving the man a sympathetic look.

"You're not in my shoes. You wouldn't know what it feels like."

What it feels like? Francis almost laughed out loud. He stifled it. Holding back the rising lump in his throat, he stared up at the apartment ceiling. Little dots of ink had landed on the white surface, causing it to turn a dull gray color.

All his life he had been going through what Thomas was experiencing. People laughing at you, pointing, whispering little rumors in your direction. He had known what it felt like to stroll down the street and receive nothing but eyes looking at you in return.

He knew.

What he didn't know was how Thomas could be so blind to see his own faults. He slept with a girl, only a student, and then left her to have the child in the hospital. And he finished that act off by going to social media and denying the rumors, until someone else announced it.

But if there was one thing out of all those insane happenings that would bind them closer together in such a dark time, it would the fact that Francis had gone through it too.

The public eye was nasty and it always would be. He could handle it, but timid, afraid Thomas wouldn't be able to.

"Thomas, people are going to bite at your skin and reputation for the rest of your life. You're letting this group trap you in a corner. Don't let them go any farther. You can't." Francis crossed the room, sitting beside the couch.

"You know how your temper lessens when people take your name and strip it down into nothing but lies. Show the-"

"Nonsense," Thomas murmured, placing his fingers over the lips of the man across from him. Francis's eyes widened, but he kept his mouth shut. The two men exchanged knowing glances to one another.

A sudden shiver travelled down the back of his spine and to the top again. Thomas twitched at the feeling. Legs twisting together, physically trying to hold back the need to burst in hysterics in front of his partner.

But none of his actions could have prepared either man for the waterworks. Francis recognized the built up, concealing look on his friend's face immediately. The tears came and Thomas threw his head in the opposite direction. He couldn't let him see how weak he was becoming.

Francis wasn't giving up. He came along to the apartment that day because he knew that insult in the coffee shop had affected him. He was going to stand by his dear Thomas for however long he needed a shoulder to rest on.

"I'm too sensitive, aren't I?" Shuddering at his own words, Thomas clutched the cut on his hand. The bandage shifted and exposed the droplets of blood. The sight made him lose all hope he once had. "I-I just don't want this to ruin me. Please don't let this ruin me."

Family name, reputation, wealth, it all mean the same to Thomas. If one of those puzzle pieces wasn't connected, his whole life would collapse. Francis could just sense it. And he wouldn't allow it to come to those circumstances ever.

"I'm right here." That was all he said before climbing up on the couch beside Thomas, pulling a blanket over them and comforting the man. He gripped the injured hand in his, while never taking his eyes off the distressed boy.

He hadn't planned to see Thomas like this in his darkest hour. But he wouldn't trade for any other place in the world right in that moment, for he knew deep down his friend needed him.

Francis wouldn't leave him to be ruined. He wouldn't stand aside and watch the man collapse into his worst nightmare alone. He had promised from day one to protect the person he loved the most, and he was obeying that command from the deepest parts of his beating heart.

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A/N: Thank you Thomas-Jefferson for the request! I hope this turned out how you wished it to, I really enjoyed writing it for you!