thank you so much for the prompt! and yay! we thought so. 🥰
below you’ll find my angsty little drabble before @30somethingautisticteacher pops in with her fluff!! 💕(we really liked this one)
fills so far: pets, siblings, health issues, disaster wedding
“Oh my god,” Evan laughs, light and teasing, as he rounds the table and plants himself beside Tommy. “Is this you?”
He teeters, tipsy with affection or lack of balance, nearly spilling the two mugs of coffee he sets down. Old photographs and mementos are scattered across the table. Tommy’s grandmother had left behind a box when she passed.
“Yeah,” Tommy says, grinning. “Didn’t choose my haircut.”
“It’s so cute,” Evan says, reaching over to ruffle Tommy’s hair. “Your curls were adorable even then.”
Tommy leans into the touch. “Well, the neon shorts and tube socks leave something to be desired.”
“I don’t know,” Evan says, waving the photo in front of Tommy with a playful smirk. “If you wore those to basketball, I’d be more inclined to join.”
Tommy snorts, plucking the picture from his fingertips. Evan tucks one knee up and fans the photos out before them. Tommy’s hand stills on one.
It’s him, curled under his mom’s arm, face beet red, sunburned and beaming, their matching Dodgers hoodies nearly glowing in the light. Her arm is slung around his shoulders. His hair is wild. They look so…alive.
Tommy’s chest fills with warmth, followed quickly by sorrow, and he holds back tears that threaten to break free.
Evan leans closer. “Who’s that?”
“Me and my mom,” Tommy says, voice soft as he flips the photograph. Scrawled across the back is a note – Tommy & Julia, 1990. “She died not long after this.”
Evan’s palm brushes the small of Tommy’s back, warm and gentle. His knee nudges against Tommy’s hip and Tommy uses it to ground himself.
“She was beautiful,” he says.
“She was, wasn’t she?” Tommy murmurs, eyes still locked on the picture. “I miss her.”
“I bet,” Evan says, leaning in and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Tell me about her?”
Tommy’s heart unhinges, cracking open under Evan’s gentle touch, expanding with each admission of pain, each gentle hold of hope. “She was brilliant. Said helicopters were like hummingbirds – strong and beautiful, but fierce. Hovering when everything else kept moving. She loved that they could just stay still.”
“Is that what got you into flying?” Evan asks, eyes bright.
Tommy nods. “She would’ve loved you.”
“I’m sure I would’ve loved her too,” Evan says, arms slipping around Tommy’s waist. “She raised you.”
Tommy chuckles. “The good parts, at least.”
Evan frowns, tucking a curl behind Tommy’s ear, his palm cradling the back of his neck. “You’re all good parts.”
They share another soft kiss as the weight of loss weakens in Tommy’s chest, settled by the soothing support of Evan, holding onto all that remains of his mother.
Weeks later, when he’s muttering curses and scrubbing grease from the stove, Tommy notices it. Framed above the sink, nestled between blooming flowers.
The photo.
Evan had placed it there quietly, lovingly. A shrine to the woman who gave Tommy his light, and a promise that Evan would help carry it forward.