Warning: mentions of sexual abuse in this chapter :(
~~~

As soon as Nades phone was returned to him, he began texting me non stop. I stayed up all night after the Modesteps left to watch over Jordan, just in case anything happened while he was asleep. During that time Nade had just gotten his phone back from Josh, and he was texting me long, incredibly detailed apologies over and over again, but I refused to answer back. He hurt Jordan, he could've killed him and I'm not going to take that lightly. He's lucky if I ever speak to him again.

Jordan had nightmares, like I expected him to. He was dreaming (from what I could tell) about someone hitting him over and over again in the stomach and ribs. When the jerks of his body and the whimpers got to be too much, I'd wake him, but he would only stay awake a few seconds before passing out again. He must be exhausted. We have to go to London in two days and he's in no shape to go.

Nade texted me for the sixtieth time that night, during one of Jordan's nightmare breaks.

"Who...who's texting you?" He asked, voice slightly strained and impossibly tired.

"Nade. I won't answer back and it's driving him nuts."

"Answer him then."

"Jordan he hurt you. He said awful things to you, he was going to kill you."

"I pushed him over the edge. He was heartbroken. He loves you."

"I don't give a damn. I love you and only you. I was heartbroken too when he was screwin around with Josh and Tony, you didn't see me throwing around a bat and clawing up the innocent."

"At least reply to him, even if it's just once. He'll kill himself with guilt if you don't."

"Alright, fine." I grabbed the phone off the nightstand and read the last text he'd sent me.

N: please dont leave me forever

I let out a long heavy sigh and began to text.

T: what u did was unforgivable. Jordans a mess and i doubt u even care.

N: i do care

T: dont lie.

N: im not lying! i feel awful. i cant sleep, the guilt is keeping me up.

T: am i supposed to feel sorry for u?

N: what can i do to get you both to forgive me?

T: pay for the modesteps medical bills, jordans medical bills, and the damage to his apartment. maybe then we might talk.

He didn't reply for serval minutes.

N: i can sell my car and it might pay for everything

I groaned. Jordan leaned over my shoulder and spied on my messages. "Don't make him sell his car."

"Why the hell not?" He deserved it, after all. Hurting Jordan, the sweetest and most precious human on god's green earth, was a sin that deserved to be punished with certain death. By me blowing his brains out and burying the-

"He's paying enough for what he's done," Jordan said quietly. "Just tell him it'll be awhile before you can forgive him. Tell him to go to work and keep his car and be nicer to Tony and Josh."

We had an intense stare down. I hated Nade. I never wanted to see him or talk to him ever again. He hurt something I valued and loved more than anything. He made Jordan remember one of the worst times in his life and made him relive it. He made a healing boy's heart broken again.

Jordan gave me a pleading look. His eyes, dull and tired as they were, were begging me silently to grant him this one wish.

With a huff, I typed out the message.

T: forget what i said about the car. live your life as usual, and go to work for godsake. tony and josh won't let u stay much longer if u don't start paying the bills. u made up with them yet?

N: i tried

T: u tried?

N: they just went to bed

T: so u didnt make up with them?

N: they fell asleep on me before i could hear what their answers were.

I snickered. They must've been exhausted, like Jordan. My anger flared up again when I thought of the red claw marks on Jordans back and the bruises on his tummy. I wanted to kill him. Fingers were twitchy and my hands trembling, just begging me to grab hold of that stupid baseball bat in the bathroom and go after Nade with it. Jordan's hand enclosed around one of my tightened fists. I calmed down.

T: jordans having nightmares.

N: im sorry. im really sorry.

T: U do realize if you come near him again, I'll kill you. right?

N: thats fair.

T: yup

N: dont leave me forever

T: im leaving you temporarily

N: how long is that?

T: months, maybe a year. im not forgiving you that easily for trying to kill my boyfriend.

N: itll never be the same, will it?

T: probably not. bye matt.

N: bye tom. thanks for replying back. i love you. i always will.

T: yeah. bye.

~

"Your feet look lovely today, Sir Sparkly Pants." I snaked my arm around his waist and tried my hardest to pull him into my lap, but he resisted my advance and gave my left hand a resounding smack. I whimpered and stared back down at his perfect bare feet.

"Tom, I'm busy." He grabbed a few more hangers of clothes from the closet, stared at them for three seconds, and tossed them aside angrily. "I look horrible in all of these! God, why didn't I go to the damn clothing store before this stupid trip..."

"Jordan." I poked him in the butt cheek, but he kept on rummaging the closet for the imaginary perfect outfits he was looking for. He was pushing the problems away in sake of our trip and I was trying my hardest to get him to stop. It wasn't healthy, the way he was coping with all of this. Yesterday he'd been laying in bed, unmoving and completely silent, crying quietly into the pillows. Today he was determined to act as if yesterday never happened and that he was perfectly happy again.

"Why do I have so many hoodies?" He sighed stressfully. "And not a single dress shirt? I could've gotten one yesterday, it wouldn't have taken me-"

"Jordan!"

He spun around and screamed at me. "What!? What do you want!?"

Shit, he's pissed. Slowly, I placed both hands on his waist and slipped is both into a half hug. "You're stressing out too much. Let me pick out your outfits and you go get all the passport stuff ready. Alright?"

His face was tinged red with anger, fingers and shoulders wound up so tight he looked ready to break. "I don't need your help," he spat at me, pushing me away and ending the hug.

"I'm not saying you need it, just if you want it. It would be easier on you. And plus I know what outfits make you look smoking hot and cute as a button, you can trust me."

The tight line his lips were positioned in wavered, into what I naively thought would be a smile, turned into a trembling frown, one that usually occurred when he was about to cry. I broke into panic.

"No no no, no more crying! Be a happy squishy Sparklez! Be happy!" I wrapped my arms around his shaking form in a protective shield, but the tears seemed to come faster from it.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying not to cry, I really am. I try to pretend it didn't happen and...then I start getting mean when I'm getting close to accidentally remembering it and then when you're being so nice and sweet and considerate, I feel bad about it and then I remember and-"

"Shh. Deep breaths. I'll pack the clothes, you go do the adult stuff. In thirty-six hours we'll be somewhere else, far away from him. Wanna take a break from packing?"

"No...we have to pack right now, no more putting it off. D-Do you have your stuff packed?" He looked around in a desperate fashion, as if I had hid my stuff somewhere in the room. I guided his gaze back to me with a gentle push to his trembling chin. He broke away from it and hid himself in my chest.

"I've had it packed for awhile, everything's cool. C'mon, you can't hide in my chest forever."

He slowly pulled away from the hiding spot in my arms, wiping his tears hastily away with his sweater sleeve. He looked like he was ready to give up on life itself. His eyes were a pale and sickly hazel color, his cheeks were always flushed to an off putting red, his skin looked greyish. I frowned at him. He frowned back.
"I'm not going to the doctor, we don't have time."

"You look like hell, Jordan."

"I know I do. I'll go to the doctor when we get to London, okay?"

"You don't look like you're gonna last 36 hours. Go take a nap or something."

"I can't. Nightmares."

"What do you have nightmares about?"

"G-...Nade. Nade attacking me."

"Who were you gonna say? That one guy who used to beat on you, is that what you've been having nightmares about?"

"...I'll be fine soon. Nade just brought back some memories."

"Or caused some buried PTSD to float up."

"I'll be fine," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm gonna go pack the rest of my equipment up." He stormed out angrily, slamming the bed room door behind him. What am I going to do with him? He's a walking mess.

His closet usually was pretty neat, but in the last ten minutes he'd torn it apart looking for those imaginary outfits. I sorted through the mess until I could find some cute shirts on him, a few long sleeves and a few short sleeves, some jackets, jeans and yoga pants, and then some different pairs of shoes. Once everything was piled neatly into the open luggage case, I zipped it up and went looking for the guy.
When I passed the kitchen, all the papers and passports needed for the trip were laying on the table. He must've sorted them already...I wonder where he went.

The living room was vacant and he wasn't in the bedroom because I had just left it. I checked his gaming room where he'd said he was going to pack up his equipment, but his room was empty, as was his desk. He packed his stuff up already. Where the hell is he?

The bathroom. I hadn't checked the bathroom.

Sprinting down the hallway, I listened closely to the place around me. I didn't hear him as I approached the bathroom door. But the walls were pretty thick in this place, maybe I just can't actually hear him.

"Jordan? You in there?" I tapped on the wood a few times with my knuckles. Silence stretched on for seconds at a time. Then a minute passed, and I got impatient. "Jordy?"

"I'll be right out," he answered in a scratchy voice. "Just...shaving."

I frowned. He was lying, I wasn't sure why. "No you're not. Open the door."

"Tom please don't open the door."

"Is it a matter of life or death?"

"Well no, but-"

"Then I'm coming in." I opened it, half expecting to see a bloody razor blade in his hand, but relieved and horrified to see him bent over a toilet bowl, quietly spilling his guts. I sighed. "We can't go to London. You're too sick and you need some help."

He shook his head. "B-But I b-booked it early-"

"It's okay, we'll call the company and get that much of your money back. I'm gonna get a trash bag and then we're going to the ER, alright?"

He didn't argue, but calmly accepted defeat as he slumped over the toilet bowl to puke again. I felt so bad for him. He was looking forward to London so much, and now the early trip there was ruined. I kneeled down beside him and rubbed circles into his back while he finished up. "We'll go as you as you get better, promise. Think you can move to the kitchen?"

He nodded slowly. We made our way to the kitchen for the trash bag and then we left for the ER.

~

"- and everything seems to be in order, Mr. Maron. I'm not sure what is causing your body to react so violently lately, but it doesn't seem to be a body health issue. Are there any psychologically scarring events that have happened lately?"

Jordan went rigid. We had a small conversation through a series of glares and nods across the room. He agreed to let me tell the doc what was up.

"He had this shit boyfriend once who used to hurt him. They're broken up now, but someone tried to hurt him yesterday and I think it kinda brought back some PTSD-"

"I-I don't have PTSD," Jordan said quietly. "He's just kidding. It's just stress is all, I don't even need to be here."

The doctor looked skeptical of his claims. She walked over to her spreadsheet laying on the small desk in the room, making a soft hum when she found whatever she was looking for. "You've come here before with these same troubles, correct?" She stared piercingly at Jordan. Jordan cowered under her gaze and shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the bed.

"Y-Yes," he answered, "but it's been a long time and I know it's not the same thing as before."

"Mr. Maron, you're showing multiple signs of PTSD. I wouldn't put away the idea so quickly. Now, I can prescribe you some medicine for the stomach troubles but if you do have a disorder I'll have to recommend a therapist for-"

"There's nothing wrong with me," Jordan spat viciously at the woman. "I'm not a freak."

I opened my mouth in shock at him. "She's not calling you a freak. She's trying to help you. Accept help."
"I don't need help!" He exclaimed in a high voice. "Why did you drag me here? There's nothing wrong, I'm fine, I don't need a therapist because I'm not crazy."
The room went silent. I gave a hopeless look to the doc, but she seemed to be forming a plan inside her head from behind the frames of her black glasses. "Mr. Maron, could you describe the things your," she cleared her throat, "ex did to you in the time of your relationship? I'll need it for the cause report before you leave, or else I might have to call you back later in the week."

It was obviously a lie. But Jordan didn't know that, and so his face went pale and his hands shook. I didn't know what this doctors deal was, asking him about stuff like that, then I realized she's trying to prove he has what we all expect him to have: a disorder that needs attention.

"Um...I-I don't know, where do I start? He did a lot of things..." I would've went over and hugged the shit out of him if I weren't trying to get him helped. This is for the greater good. He needs to admit he has a problem and if I hug him, I'll be making the situation worse.

The doctor waited a long moment to answer, as if she really didn't want to, but pushed it out of herself anyway. "Can you tell me about the sexual abuse?"

His entire body locked up. It was obvious, the answer was clear. Sexual abuse. Sexual abuse. He went through that, he...Who would do that? How could they? He's precious and he's fragile, how could they do that to him?

His eyes darted to me, watery and pleading for my presence, and I ran over to him and pulled him into a hug. I wanted to know the bastards name. If I knew it, I would end him and make sure he never saw the light of day again.

"I'll send the recommendation to your email,"
The doc said quietly. "You can go if you'd like. Um...this has been reported to the police, correct? These incidents from the past?"
Jordan shook his head, face still buried into my chest. Of course he didn't. He cringed at the thought of filing one from the other abuse, he wouldn't dare report sexual abuse. I threaded my fingers through his wavy hair and rocked him a little, back and forth. The doctor, blushing, left the room without another word.

Jordan broke out in tiny sobs. "It-it wasn't b-bad, it only happened a few t-times..."

He's denying the truth again and changing the past to escape it. I hoped up on the bed and helped him lay down in my lap. He did so without a word uttered, but silent tears continued to drop down his cheeks. I wiped a few of them away. "One time is too many times, Jordan."

He sniffled, clutching my knee and shrinking into my body. "B-But, you know, I...I liked it, there wasn't any abuse or-or anything..."

"You didn't like it. You pretended so it would be easier, I used to do that too. It doesn't help. I know it sucks dick, but you gotta face-"

His crying was silent one minute, to heaving and gasping and sobbing at the same time the next. What did I say? All I remember telling him was...

"He...he made you-"

"Don't say it!" He croaked, "it makes it worse!"

"Okay!" I threw my hands up quickly in defense. "Okay, I won't. Its okay. You're okay. Um. You know...it's best to talk about it. It would help get out some of that pent up crap inside your head."

He started shaking violently, causing the whole bed to tremble. God I hope that nurse comes back soon, he looks like he's having an anxiety fit. Holding his neck with one hand and gripping my own arm in a death vice, he closed his eyes tightly and tried to take in deep breaths. At this point, I felt like I needed to do something to keep him on the edge of calming down. I awkwardly patted him and started humming a familiar song I'd heard in the car earlier, hoping and praying it would work a little.

It seemed to. The grip on my arm lessened. His hand fell away from his throat and his breathing slowed, getting increasingly steadier.
"Y-you sing so good...why don't y-you ever sing in front of p-people?"

"Because I hate people. Ready to leave? Or you need some more time?"

He blew out a stream of cool air, opening his eyes finally. "I hate him. I hate him so much, he's ruined my life."

"Then hate him. It's okay to hate him."

"But everyone says it's always better to forgive and-"

"Forget?" I finished for him, scoffing. "Sometimes you can't forget. And you sure as hell don't have to forgive that bastard for hurting you."

There was a break of silence. I took the time to grab a roll of paper towels off the counter and used them to wipe Jordan's face of tears. He smiled appreciatively at me, leaning against my shoulder and letting out a frustrated sigh. "Tom...I don't want to go to a therepist."

My arm found its way in the familiar curve of his waist and rested there. "I'll go with you. It won't be so bad." Therapy sucked, I knew where he was coming from. Sonja and Tucker had tried it with me the first time I got depression and all it did was make me feel like a loser, and the therapist was so inexperienced that all he did while I talked of my problems was nod and say mhm. I hated it. It was like talking to a brick wall that was getting payed to be a brick wall. It was pointless and it never helped. I only hoped Jordan would get better help than I had.

"Does this mean no London trip?" He asked, frowning. Crap. Decisions.

Mature Tom wanted Jordan to stay here until he was well rested, healthy, and ridded of the memories from his past. But Teenage Tom wanted Jordan all to himself in a luxury hotel room, snuggled up in a fancy bed after a long steamy shower involving two, and with his ass dressed in sweatpants...

The two Toms managed to work out an agreement.

"Do you think London will help you feel better? You know, distress and all that?"

He nodded eagerly. "With you there, yeah."

Aw. "You'll tell me the moment you start feeling bad again? So I can take care of it?"

"I promise I will."

"And you'll put your health before your fans if it comes down to it?"

His breath caught in his throat at that. I gave him a disapproving look. "Jordan, being selfish is healthy in this situation."

He slumped his shoulders, looking defeated. "I know. I know that. I'll put my health before my fans. Anything else before I can accept the terms and conditions?"

"Promise me you'll try to have fun."

He sniffled, smiling up at me. "I'm always having fun when I'm with you, Tom."
~~~

This chappie was sad I'm sorry :( the next one will be much better <3 (30 favs for another chappie tomorrow?)

The anniversary of mianite is today I think.

I will be celebrating by watching forty episodes and sobbing about season three :D

How will you be spending this fine day? Let me know in the comments ^.^

Byeeeee~

- Lee