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Thomas thought about it. “I guess not,” he admitted, never really thinking about criminals that weren’t attached to the mafias before.
“Okay, so there are made men and women,” Issac said, ticking off a finger. “And there are other criminals and politicians. Let’s go to the other side. What would you consider someone who isn’t even aware of the criminal underground and thinks organized crime is a thing of the past or something made up in movies or TV shows?”
Thomas grimaced. “No one like that exists,” he argued and Issac laughed softly.
“They do exist,” he corrected. “You’ll meet a few at university. It’ll be one of the single most infuriating things you’ll ever witness, watching out-of-state freshmen blunder into made men at clubs and bars and talk about it the next day with no idea how lucky they are that this isn’t New York or Chicago.”
“What happens in Chicago,” Thomas asked, tilting his head.
“Depends on the men,” Issac countered, shrugging. “So what do you call those people?”
“Blind?”
Issac laughed again, a rolling chuckle that made Thomas smile. “Normal, Thomas,” he said smiling at him. “The word I was looking for was normal.”
“Okay, so what’s honest,” Thomas asked him, more confused than ever.
“Honest,” he said, leaning back into his seat, “is knowing everything we know, knowing how fucked up the world is, knowing how easily we could shift into made men ourselves and making the choice every single day not to. That is being honest. Honest is the balancing act.”
Thomas thought about that as Issac turned the car back on.
Good Night
“Are you going to see Kevin and Mark,” Seong asked, glancing at the tiny screen of his phone.
“Yeah, we’re having brunch with them tomorrow,” Thomas said, his eyes fixed on a point away from his phone that Seong knew was his computer screen and using a chopstick to run down code lines. “They— uh— they were pretty upset about everything.”
“No one likes it when their friends are going through a break-up,” Seong commented. “I imagine it’s much worse when the person they are breaking up with is also their friend.”
Thomas hummed softly, thinking. “I… I kind of… I worried they wouldn’t reach out, when everything happened. They’ve known Danny longer than me.”
“They’re good guys,” Seong said shrugging. “And you are a good friend. Tossing away your friendship just because Danny messed up would be foolish.” He watched Thomas’s lips turn, that doubtful expression he always got. “They can be friends with both of you, Thomas. So long as you don’t mind it.”
“Does that even work?” His eyes darted towards the phone, an exhaustion in them. “Being friends with the friends of your ex?”
“Remind me to tell you about Bat’s disastrous love life sometime,” he said, smiling at him then glancing at the time: well after midnight. “Go to sleep, Thomas,” he told him gently. “The code will be there tomorrow.”
Something twisted in Thomas’s face, his throat tightening as he swallowed hard. “I- I can’t,” he said softly, looking away. “I— I tried before I texted you. I can’t— It won’t be quiet.”
Seong sighed softly, nodding softly. In the time between arriving back to the city and Thomas’s aunts returning, Thomas had bounced between their apartments, mostly between Issac’s and Seong’s. And they all noticed the same thing: Thomas didn’t sleep well. Seong found that if he knew he wasn’t alone, it was easier for him to fall asleep. “I’m going to be up for a while longer wrapping things up,” he told him, watching those tired green eyes flick back to him. “Why don’t you lay down and I’ll stay on the call? I’ll play us some music. When I’m done, if you aren’t asleep, we’ll talk about it. Okay?”
Thomas studied him for a moment then nodded slowly. “Okay,” he breathed, getting up and moving his phone. He let out that cute grunting sigh as he rolled himself into bed and set his phone on a charging stand, the screen still facing him.
While he settled in, Seong adjusted the sound from his headphones to his speakers. He pulled his headphones down around his neck.
“Hey Seong…”
Seong glanced over, just able to see Thomas’s relaxing face as he laid with his eyes closed in his own bed. “Yeah, Thomas?”
Thomas didn’t say anything for a long enough time that Seong thought he might have fallen asleep already. “Thank you,” he murmured finally. “Thank you for always being here with me.”
Seong smiled, wishing he could reach through the phone to brush away the strand of hair that had fallen across Thomas’s freckled face. “I’m glad to be here,” he said instead, “however you need me. Now,” he turned on a lullaby version of their favorite rock music, “go to sleep.”
A smile broke across Thomas’s face without opening his eyes. “That’s fighting dirty,” he commented.
“I’m Italian Mafia,” he reminded him. “Fighting dirty is what I do.”
Thomas’s lip stuck up in a mock pout, humming softly. “Why is this so good?”
