"I know that, Oliver. I do, but you weren't there." Tommy rolled away and got up. He started to pace, all too aware that these houses had thin walls that let people hear everything if they wanted to. "You weren't there. My mother was dead. My father? Fuck if I know what he does. He was never around unless he needed me at some event, and you were still dead. It wasn't the bad things that were the problem. It was... it was missing the only two people that have ever meant anything to me. It was not knowing if I could survive another day with that hole in my heart. I didn't want to be in control, Oliver. I wanted to stop the pain."
He took a deep breath. "The only time I got close to numbing the pain was with Laurel, and thinking back, maybe the reason we ended up in bed together was because we missed you, and then you came back, and I still felt like I didn't have you in my life."
He shook his head. "No, I don't think you do remember, because you spent your life trying to survive. I spent my life trying to make the world disappear, and now it's hard to remember how to fight, but I'm trying, because of you."