Tommy was a bit afraid of his reintroduction into school after his week-long suspension, and as he feared, he was greeted by sideways glances and whispering.  His friends were nowhere to be seen and a creeping sense of loneliness overwhelmed him.  Lunchtime came and the loneliness gave way to dread, for he knew that his friends would be there and if they shunned him he wasn't sure what he was going to do, but he knew it wouldn't end well.  As it were, Nigel joined him at their usual table and greeted him as if nothing had transpired.

  "You're not going to say anything?" Tommy asked after a moment.

  "About what?"  Nigel looked up from his meal.  "You getting suspended for bringing porn to school?"

  "No," he replied, annoyed at Nigel for steering the conversation away from his intended destination.  "You know what I mean.  You didn't call."

  "I thought you were in trouble," Nigel replied with a flippant shrug.

  "Richard called, didn't he?" Tommy shot back.

  "You think it bothers me that you think you're gay?"  Nigel said calmly.

  "I don't think it," Tommy said.  "I know it."

  "Don't be stupid."  Nigel dismissed him with a frown.  "It doesn't bother me.  It's just sudden, is all.  Have you even thought this through?"

  "Thought it through?" Tommy muttered in the form of a question.  "I am thinking it through.  I'm thinking it through right now.  It's not some notion I've got in my head because...I think I should or something.  I've done things."

  "Things?" Nigel arched an eyebrow.  "First Gracie and now things?  Who around here have you done things with?"

  "You don't know him," Tommy grumbled.

  "Now you have friends that I don't know about?"  Nigel's frown deepened.  "It's not some old geezer is it?  That's just wrong."

  "What? No!"  Tommy scowled.

  "So why don't you tell me?  Is this what it's going to be like now?  My best friend hides all these bloody secrets from me as if I'm going to suddenly not like him anymore after ten years."  Nigel turned his attention away from his meal and crossed his arms to stare directly at Tommy.

  "Brian's not my friend." Tommy struggled for an explanation but could come up with nothing except a crushing feeling of guilt for hiding from Nigel and for using Brian.

  "And you do things with him?"  Nigel scowled disapprovingly.  "I didn't think you were like that.  How can you have sex with people you don't even like?  I didn't know you thought it such a trivial thing.  It's a bit of a shock, that, Tommy.  I wish you wouldn't keep throwing yourself into fires like it's no big thing.   Like the smoking.  You shouldn't have started doing that either."

  "What? Are you my mummy?" Tommy huffed.  "I know what I'm doing, and it makes me feel good.  Do I really need to discuss it with everybody?  It's actually none of your business."

  "You brought it up," Nigel replied with a hint of exasperation before pursing his lips as he noted the approach of the other half of their circle.  Richard sat beside Tommy and smiled widely at him as he immediately and unconsciously began tapping his fork on the table.

  "Welcome back, Tommy," he said.

  "What are you in such a good mood about?" Tommy continued to scowl as he carefully avoided Richard's gaze which was fixated directly upon him.

  "The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, " Richard spoke cheerily.  "It's a beautiful day in London-town."

  "No, seriously," Liam piped in.  "What the hell is wrong with you?"

  "Nothing," Richard replied.  "Can I not be in a good mood?"

  "Not you." Liam shook his head.  "I don't suppose it has anything to do with your boyfriend comin' back from suspension?"

  Tommy's head snapped to attention, but before he could make a scene Richard spoke on his own behalf.

  "Shove it up your arse, Fische," he said calmly, the cheery pitch never leaving his voice.

  Liam snickered before glancing at Tommy with a grin on his face.  "You'd like that wouldn't you?"  He said.

  Tommy pursed his lips and focused on his plate.

  "Oh, C'mon!" Liam needled him.  "You said if I had to take the piss, I could do it to you, didn't you?  What, you ain't man enough to take it?"

  Tommy continued to ignore him.

 "Fine."  Liam shrugged and settled in to his meal.  "You're no fun."

--

  "He bothers you," Richard said to Tommy as they stood waiting for Saul to pick them up.

  Tommy glanced sideways at him and shrugged.

  "Liam doesn't bother me."

   Richard sighed heavily, his earlier bright mood had turned grey and sullen over the course of a few hours.

  "Mmmhmmm," he murmured nearly inaudibly as he was sure that he didn't believe it.  Out loud he asked Tommy if he had a fag.

  Tommy glanced at him again, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before he pulled a packet of cigarettes from his coat pocket, offered one up, and lit it for his companion.

  "I didn't know you were a smoker," Tommy said.

  "I went to boarding school, Thompson."  Richard took a drag on the cigarette as he spoke to Tommy slowly and deliberately.  "I've done a lot of things that might surprise you."

   "Oh, yeah?" Tommy perked up a bit and couldn't keep an edge of curious interest from creeping into his voice.

  Richard kept his gaze straight ahead.  "It's been a hard day for me."  He noted.  "I don't want to get into it."

 Tommy cast his eyes downward and deftly changed the subject.  "You called me Thompson."

 "Sorry," Richard said.  "I remember things."

 "It's alright." Tommy shrugged as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.  "I don't mind."

--

    "Who are you foolin'?"  Liam spoke to Tommy after band rehearsal one day.

    "What are you talking about?" Tommy replied as packed his equipment away.

    "With all this." Liam gestured at him.  "Who you trying to impress?"

    "I'm exploring my self identity, alright?" He said.

    Liam regarded him dubiously.  "And your self identity now includes eyeliner, eh?"

    "Oh, C'mon." Richard had stood up from the corner of the room where he'd been hiding and joined them.  "He's in a 'rock band."  He spit out the word with forceful contempt.  "People in rock bands do that kind of thing all the time.  It's all part of your persona, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, yeah, fuck you," Tommy growled back at him.

  Liam glanced between them as they glared at one another.

  "Please leave," Liam addressed Richard with an accompanying shove.  "You're interrupting our banter."

  "Yeah," Tommy acrimoniously concurred.
 
  Richard stared Tommy down from head to toe then turned and stalked out of the room.

  "You should just fuck," Liam muttered.

  This prompted Tommy to let out a high pitched "What!" in his direction.

  "Oh, you heard me." Liam chuckled.

  "I hate Richey Blume," Tommy declared.  "He's a prat."

  "Which is why you spend so much time staring at his arse," Liam replied.

  Tommy rolled his eyes and hefted his guitar case.  "Look, Liam. Please give it a rest, alright?  I don't like you that way, I don't like him that way, I don't like Nigel that way, and I'm already seeing someone.  Your whole interest in the matter is actually pretty disturbing."
 
  "You're not seeing anybody.  If you were seeing somebody, then we'd have met him by now," Liam pointed out with a grin.  He was good at pushing buttons, and was pleased at the way Tommy was rising to the bait.

  "No, you're right."  Tommy took a long steadying breath before addressing his friend with a smirk.  "We're only shagging.  More than I can say for all the lies you go around telling."

  Liam grumbled for a moment and eventually stumbled away in a huff leaving Tommy alone with his thoughts.

  He only wished that he were interested in Brian.  Their time together seemed to Tommy as only a clinical investigation of body parts.  While pleasurable, it left him feeling emotional unsatisfied and wracked with guilt.  Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that he hadn't wanted his first time to be an awkward fumble in the dark, over in an instant, like it had been with Grace, nor a detached exploration devoid of any connection like it was with Brian.  He knew there was more to it than that, but he didn't know what.  On top of his dissatisfaction, Tommy was as afraid as he was sure that Brian was in love with him, yet he didn't know how to stop.  He was in over his head and he knew it full well.

 Tommy sighed to himself and didn't notice Richard reenter the room until he felt his friend's hand on his shoulder.

  "Oh, what do you want?" Tommy spun around on Richard and snapped at him.  "Did you come to make fun of the way I look again?  Did you come back to make fun of our music?  Why do you do that?  Why do you make it so damn hard to like you?"

  Richard settled back on his heels, seemingly unsurprised at Tommy's outburst.  He contemplated an answer for a moment before replying.

  "I can't help it," he whispered.  "It's what I do.  It's how this works."

  "How what works?"  Tommy cried at him.

  "How my brain works," he replied quietly and composed.  "I hurt people, Tom.  I see my chance and I just step on 'em without a thought.  Nobody deserves it.  It's just how it works."

  "That's..."  Tommy eyed him suspiciously.  "That's stupid," he finally said.  "Why?"

  Richard smiled at him then, a wild and uncontained smile.  With a pat on the back, he invited Tommy out for dinner with Nigel as if no words had been spoken between them.

  "It'll be a bit of fun!" Richard giggled.  "C'mon."

  "Why?" Tommy repeated more urgently.  He didn't understand.

  Richard continued to laugh at him then pulled him into a sideways hug.  Tommy could only stand there with the other boy's arm clenched around his shoulder.  He could hear Richard talking, but he knew it was only another one of his rants.  It was the kind that didn't make any sense and jumped incoherently from topic to topic, sentence to sentence, and it was useless to try and dampen Richard's enthusiasm.  It would exponentially get worse until he collapsed into sullen silence just as easily as he had started.

  Tommy wrestled  himself from the grasp then and he spun around to face him.

  Richard's eyes glossed over as he noted Tommy's disapproving scowl.  It took every bit of self restraint he had to keep himself from saying another word.  The effort pushed him to an emotional breaking point and tears welled in his eyes.

  "You're alright." Tommy sighed at him.  He dropped his childish anger and shoved his inability to understand Richard's constant mood swings aside.

  Richard only shook his head as he bit into his lower lip.

  Tommy reached out and took his hand.

  "You're alright, Richey," Tommy repeated as he did his best to ignore the jolt of electricity that ran through him as he squeezed.  "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

  "You called me a prat.  I heard you say it.  I was stood in the doorway," Richard squeaked out then.  He squeezed back, holding on for dear life.

  "I didn't mean it," Tommy insisted.

  "It's not untrue."  Richard took a  shuddering breath and snatched his hand back.  "Are you coming or not?" He petulantly asked as he crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

  "Yeah, sure," Tommy said.  The conversation was over.  "Let me get my coat."

--

  Richard withdrew himself after that.  He could see that Tommy was starting to care about him.  It was evident in the way the boy fought his friends to include Richard in everything they did.  He often felt the outsider and didn't appreciate the extra attention Tommy gave to him whenever the others turned a cold shoulder.  It frightened him.  In his entire life he had never known anybody to care as much as Tommy did, even when he was calling Richard a prat.

  And he knew.

  He knew that Tommy liked him.  Richard could see it in his eyes, and his eyes were always there, watching like a hawk.  Tommy may never have said it, or he may not even have known it himself, but Richard did.  Richard knew every glance, he knew every smile, and it warmed him when he allowed himself to think of it.  The cold, dark corners of his mind wouldn't allow him to want it though.  He wouldn't allow himself the attention that Tommy showered on him.  He wouldn't allow himself to let the attraction blossom, because he knew he would end up hurting him and that was the last thing in the world that Richard wanted.  So he withdrew.  He withdrew from group and he withdrew from Tommy, who continued to watch, weary and worried.

 --

  His birthday was sad and uneventful as far as he was concerned.  Not even a shiny new Les Paul could cheer him up.  He sat on a chair at the kitchen table staring across the room at where he had propped up the carefully maintained case of the blue Telecaster that he had called his for two years.

  His mother joined him at the table, followed his eyes and sighed internally.

  "I'm sorry your friend couldn't make it," she said as sympathetically as she could muster.

  "It's alright," Tommy lied.  "He's got this thing...about birthday parties."

  "Oh."  Madeline frowned.  She worried about Tommy and all the time he spent worrying about Richard Blume, a boy she had only met once in passing.

  "It's nothing." Tommy turned to look at her as he sensed her unease.  "It's just, I think I'm going to miss the Telecaster."

  She frowned.  "Did you want a...Telecaster?"

  He smiled and stood up and gave her a hug.  "No, I love my present," he told her as they embraced.  "Thank you."

--
 
  "You didn't have to bring it back." Richard hefted his guitar case onto his bed and flicked the clasps open in order to inspect the instrument.

  "You were only letting me borrow it." Tommy peered over his friend's shoulder.  "Mum got me a guitar for my birthday.  Did your mu..."

  Richard held a hand up to his face in order to provoke silence.  It had the desired effect as Tommy snapped his mouth shut and scowled.

  "Why do you insist on talking about it?" Richard muttered under his breath.  It wasn't that he didn't appreciate Tommy showing concern, it was only that he never knew how to react to it as it was a strange and unfamiliar interaction.

  "Did I pass?" Tommy asked.  He had shoved his thoughts on Richard's abysmal home life aside and opted instead for a bright and cheery tone of voice.

  "Yeah," Richard said almost too softly to hear above the sound of the case being shut and snapped back into place.

  "You know what I think?" Tommy said, and without waiting for an answer continued.  "I think you should join the band now."

  Richard glanced sharply at him then laughed.

  "It's not funny.  You would be good, you understand music."

  "Just about the only thing," Richard muttered.  "Doesn't matter.  I can't play guitar right now...I still have physical therapy."

  "It's been two years."

  Richard glared at him.  "Yeah, it's been two years and I have problems.  I've had surgery, I've had therapy, and I still have problems.  I hurt myself real bad, Tommy.  Don't you get it?"

  "We can write together then." Tommy reached out a hand and placed it on Richard's shoulder.

  Richard stood with an angry glare frozen on his face.

  Tommy glared back.  Instead of removing his hand he slid it towards Richard's neck where it rested for one heated moment.  Richard resisted the urge to lean into the touch and instead smacked Tommy's hand away.
 
  "Please, don't ever do that again," Richard said brusquely and turned away.

  "I'm sorry!"  Tommy stared wide eyed at Richard's back, ashamed at his own audacity.

  "I think you should go home now," Richard commented.

  Tommy wanted to go to him and beg forgiveness, but he could no longer even bring himself to look upon Richard's shoulders, back lit by the sun streaming through his bedroom window.  Instead he cast his gaze towards his own feet with a sigh and wondered how Richard could always make him feel so bad about himself without even trying.

  "I think you're right," he finally said .  He shuffled from foot to foot for a moment, expecting hopefully for Richard to ask him to stay.  Richard didn't utter a word, and Tommy eventually shuffled away feeling utterly rejected.

   Richard watched him from the window as he exited the house.  Tommy didn't turn towards the bus stop, but instead headed towards Nigel's house, no doubt for band practice.  Richard covered his face in his hands trying to right himself, but he couldn't corral the flood of emotions bouncing around inside his head, and he felt them all so keenly like sharp stabbing knives in his gut.  It was constant and unbearable and yet he could do nothing but go on and deceive the people around him for no reason.  He told people he was alright, but that was the furthest thing from the truth.  In all of his life, Richard had never been alright.

  He yanked the curtains together in order to cross out the offending light then stalked to the bed where he lay down and stared at the ceiling with tears steaming silently down his face.

--

  Tommy returned to Nigel's house after having been gone less than fifteen minutes.  Nigel looked up from his drum-kit.  It was surprising to see Tommy back so soon.  Richard usually kept him occupied for far longer than that, whether they were getting along or arguing.

  "What did he do?" Nigel sighed.  He knew he was going to have to hear about it sooner or later, or Tommy would never be able to concentrate on what he was doing.

  "It's not what he did; it's what I did." Tommy fell melodramatically back on Nigel's bed.

  "What did you do?" Nigel turned his attention back to his drums.

  "I asked him to join the band."

  "Yeah?"  Nigel shook his head to himself.  "Don't you think you should've run that by me and Liam first?"

  Tommy replied in the negative.   "He didn't say yes anyway.  Says he got physical therapy..."

  "He does.  Every Saturday morning at nine," Nigel replied.

  "How do you know that?"  Tommy wondered.

  "Well, my aunt doesn't want to take time out of her busy schedule to take him, and Mum doesn't want him to go alone, so she takes him."  Nigel shrugged.  "He's my cousin, Tommy."

  "Right." Tommy sighed.  "I only asked because I thought It'd be fun for him.  We could use another guitar player anyway."

  "I think Liam knows a guy," Nigel said.

  "That's not the point." Tommy turned onto his side so he could face his friend.

  Nigel rolled his eyes at him.  "Right, the point is you want it to be Richard.  Good luck convincing him to do anything.  I can barely get him to speak two words to me after all this time."

  Tommy laced his fingers behind his head and sighed helplessly as he stared at the ceiling.

--

  Two weeks later Richard picked up his guitar for the first time since he'd slashed his wrists.  He sat alone in his room with the curtains drawn.  He could play the guitar if he tried, though he had never been particularly skilled at the instrument. He did still get cramps in his hands, and sometimes his fingers went numb, but he could manage without anybody noticing, particularly Tommy.  The boy was a bright and cheerful presence in Richard's life that he was slowly growing to accept and anticipate.  He had been trying to keep his distance, but the way Tommy continually bounced back from Richard's belittlement, taciturn attitude, and frequent mood swings was starting to wear down his resistance.  He knew he would hurt Tommy.  It was an eventuality as far as Richard was concerned and it frightened him, but he wondered if it wasn't worth the little happiness Tommy managed to bring into his life.

  Richard cornered him later that week in an isolated hallway between classes.  Tommy had been doing an admirable job of avoiding him ever since he'd turned down the invitation to join the band.  Richard had an inkling somewhere in the back of his mind that he had hurt Tommy's feelings, but he only sought to rectify the situation after he realized that he'd been getting the cold shoulder, and it took all of that week for it to take hold of his conscious mind that he was being ignored.  Once he did, it caused his stomach to burn with regret every time Tommy glanced at him.

 Richard stood there in front of Tommy that day expecting him to ask what was wrong.  He didn't.  Instead he crossed his arms and glowered.  An apology fluttered towards Richard's lips but he choked it back and frowned instead.

  "Do you still want me to be in your band?" He asked after a stalemate that lasted well past the ringing of the bell.

  Tommy's face filled with disappointment and he sighed.  In the end it was he who apologized.

 "I'm sorry," Tommy said.  "I told them I wanted you to play guitar for us and that you said no.  They wanted to look for someone else.  I'm afraid Liam missed the point."

  "The point?"   Richard closed his eyes and exhaled in an effort to stem the tears that sprung instantaneously to his eyes.  It was not an unexpected reaction to an answer that deviated from his expectations.

  "The point being, you're our friend.  I wanted it to be you, and now here you are."  Tommy's eyes were directed at the floor and he was frowning, rubbing the back of his neck in apparent frustration.  "Too late."

  "Too late?" Richard practically whimpered in reply.  His gut clenched in a knot and hot flush rose to his cheeks.

 "Yeah," Tommy said and looked up to meet Richard's gaze.   "Liam knows a bloke...Petere.  Three 'e's.  Stupid chav.  I wanted it to be you, Richey.  You're goo....actually, you're incredible.  I don't know how you learned so much about music.  Half of what you say I don't even understand."

  "You could have tried to convince me."  Richard crossed his arms.  The hot feeling of disappointment drained out of him and was replaced by steely cold indifference.

   Tommy threw his hands up in surrender.

  "I can't win with you, Richey, can I?  Just...I'm sorry.  What else do you want me to say?  Tell me and I'll say it"

   "There ain't nothing you can say," Richard stubbornly replied.

  "Alright, then," Tommy said quietly.  He looked up at Richard and reached out to pat him shortly on the arm.  "I understand that you're disappointed.  I am too.  Go ahead and be angry with me.  I never should have brought it up in the first place.  I'm going to go to class now."

  Richard, suddenly desperate to be within Tommy's orbit for the rest of the day, grabbed his friend's shoulder as he turned around.

  "We can sneak out...to smoke," he suggested.

  "You? sneak out of school?"  Tommy pretended to be affronted.

  "It's funny that you think I would care."  Richard parried the remark with a smirk.

  Tommy smiled at him then.  "So we're okay?"

  "For now," Richard admitted.  The apology returned to his lips and caught there.  He bit his bottom lip as he fought it back, then smiled at Tommy in kind.

  "Let's go then," Richard said as he bobbed his head in the direction of the exit.

--

 Their impasse only lasted a few weeks.  Richard occasionally attended band practice in the capacity of spectator, even though Tommy tried valiantly to include him.  He kept his mouth shut about what a bad fit he thought Petere was.  Petere's attitude and work ethic was below even Liam's and on top of that, Richard didn't think he was any good.  Then the band got a gig.  Tommy couldn't have been more ecstatic, even though it was only a party in a school mate's basement.  From that point on Tommy was busy with people fawning over him, and Richard did nothing to try and keep himself in Tommy's life.  He stopped going to rehearsals and gigs and nearly withdrew completely.

  Another unfortunate side effect of tackling a couple of successful shows among their peers was the fact that Liam and Petere began to think they were too good to require practice.  More often than not they would skip it completely in favor of standing on some corner or another with the other school friends Liam had left behind when he'd taken the scholarship.  This left only Nigel and Tommy once again, but Tommy wasn't as content with the situation as he had once been.  He wanted his band to improve and the two most essential parts in need of improvement didn't seem to care.

  "Maybe you should just find Richey?" Nigel said one day as Tommy polished his guitar.

  "Find Richey, and what?"  Tommy asked.  "He's not been here in weeks.  He barely even speaks to us anymore."

  "What?  He speaks to you!"

  "I don't even like him," Tommy grumbled.

  "Why do you keep saying that?"  Nigel rolled his eyes.  "Please go talk to him.  I'm tired of Liam's shit."

  "I don't like him," Tommy half-heartedly protested as he stood from where he was seated on Nigel's bed.  He set his instrument aside and shuffled apprehensively towards the door.

    He approached the Blume residence and spied their servant, Saul, attending the task of sweeping snow from the steps
to the door.

"Good evening, Tom." Saul looked up from his duties. "I believe he is in his room studying," he said without waiting for Tommy to speak.

"Do you think I could go o­n up?" Tommy pondered aloud.

    Saul nodded Tommy into the house. He tread the path to his friend's  room and found himself in the midst of a disaster area. There were piles of clothes and stacks of paper everywhere. The bed was unmade and everything was in disarray. This might have been normal for the average teenage boy, but not Richard. He was the tidiest person Tommy knew. He hadn't even been aware that Richard owned as much stuff as was heaped upon the floor. Tommy maneuvered his way to the desk in the corner and sat, determined to wait. His interest as piqued by an  opened journal almost instantly, and just as quickly guilt overwhelmed him for even contemplating having a quick peek. His decision not to look was vindicated when he heard the crisp well bred accent that belonged to Richard demanding to know what he, Tommy Sinclair, thought he was doing.

    Tommy turned from the desktop. Richard stood in the doorway with only a towel wrapped around his waist, still dripping wet from being in the shower.

    "I'm sorry," Tommy apologized. "The butler said I could..."

    "Invade my privacy?" Richard arched an eyebrow at him. "Remind me to have mum fire him."

    "It's my fault," Tommy said.

    "Then you're fired," Richard flatly replied. "Can you leave so I can get dressed?"

    "That's okay, I don't mind," Tommy looked him up and down and grinned. Richard was fit. It had been crossing his mind at an ever increasing frequency, and seeing him only in a towel was causing naughty ideas to invade his mind. He thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to leave before he did something he might regret.

    They did need Richard at band rehearsal, though. Tommy had come to convince him to attend, and he was going to do just that even if it took every ounce of willpower in his body.

    "I'm sure you don't," Richard growled. "But I certainly do!"

    "We miss you at practice." Tommy ignored him. "Can you come over Nigel's? Pete and Liam didn't show up again."

    "I've got things to do," Richard mumbled.

    "Yeah," Tommy agreed. "Like cleaning your room maybe?"

    "Go away," Richard grumbled. "This is none of your business."

    "We worry about you."

    "There's nothing to worry about," Richard assured him.

    "But you don't come around anymore.  You just sit up here in your room."  Tommy absently began fiddling with the journal on the desk. "I mean, what happened?"

    "What are you doing?" Richard ignored his query. "Don't fucking touch that!"

    Tommy released his nervous grasp on the book as if it had morphed into a red hot iron.

    "How much did you read?" Richard implored desperately.

    "None of it!" Tommy defended himself from the accusatory glare he was receiving.

    "Right." Richard glowered. "I don't believe you."

    "I wouldn't do that."

    "Get out of my room.  Get out my house," Richard bellowed, suddenly beyond irate. "And get out of my life! I don't need you, okay? You're a fucking selfish bastard who doesn't think of anybody except for yourself, so just leave me  alone. You aren't my friend. Just leave me alone!"

    Tommy stood up and regarded Richard with an indignant expression. "I am not selfish."

    Richard wasn't listening. He just pointed the way out. His defenses had been raised and there wasn't any talking to him. That would have been the end of it had the only person capable of disarming him not been standing in the middle of his room.

    "I'm not selfish," Tommy repeated himself as he stalked up to Richard o­n his way out and poked him straight in the center of his chest being mindful to keep his gaze locked onto Richard's eyes.

    "You are. Locking yourself in here, thinking that nobody cares about you. Well, you're wrong. You hurt more people than you will ever know by closing yourself off like this. You refuse the help that you need even though you know you need it, and you ignore the people who want to help.  If that isn't selfish then I don't know what is. So, go ahead and waste away in your pile of filth here while your friends spend more than their fair share of time worrying about you.  You can rest assured that I won't. I'm through.  I'm cutting my losses right now and moving on, because all you are, all you will ever be, Richard Michael Blume, is heartbreak."

    "Fuck you!" Richard stood there shaking with anger and hurt.

    "I'm sorry," Tommy replied. "But I'm not going to play your mind games anymore. You can fool yourself, but you can't fool me, okay?"

    With that he stalked away from the premises and returned to his band. At least he knew he could always count on Nigel to be there.

    Richard arrived at rehearsal a half hour later, toting his guitar and appearing more upset than anybody had ever seen him.

    "What did you do?" Nigel whispered at Tommy who just shrugged and informed him that it didn't really matter since he'd gotten Richard out of his room, and that was the entire objective of his ill fated trip anyway.