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It had been so terrible, before. He'd been always cold, always hungry, always alone. He didn't know how he'd come to stand it, the sensation now feeling so distant, yet all too familiar. He thought that part of the cold, the mud, the constant grime and ache stayed with him still, resonated deep in his bones, lodged in his heart forever. But it’d begun to thaw, perhaps, as those days grew distant.
It wasn't just the food and the shelter that Mrs. Lovett provided him, it was beyond bare essential in a way Toby never expected to have. He remembered the first night. He hadn't been terrified out of his mind, moreso ready to accept his fate. But Mrs. Lovett had simply given him a few pies and a whole bottle and a few kind words. He had worked for Pirelli all throughout the winter. It was summer, now. That first careful step that followed, out into the sun, realizing he could rest easy, was the most wonderful thing.
Even in his lame head, he’d found new meaning in the steps he takes. It still hurt, of course. But as his body begged him for sleep, his mind remained steadfast in where his task would take him. At the end of each day, he no longer simply dropped his sorry self down to rot until morning. She’s stayed, ever present, him swaddled in her company, indulgent in this easy comfort. She will cradle the sides of his face in her hands and it will feel as if his whole head was enveloped in that warmth, let alone her body against his, the rock on which he clung.
Sometimes Toby could not believe it. The food, the warmth, the bed, all luxuries he hadn't been afforded in a few odd years. The affection, not in his lifetime. The only friends he'd had were suffering street urchins and factory workers just like him. Weak and thin and desperate, without so much to give other than an eagerness to take, all of them starved of love. Toby thought himself now to be the luckiest boy in the world. It must've been some kind of impossible miracle, something he'd dreamed about so many times and yet, never knew what it could really be like.
And it was... lovely. Lovely.
The ringing of the bell reminded him of this, compelled him forward. Even in the day, in the absence of her, he’d know this to be true. As he leaned heavily against the fence of the courtyard, eyes half open and gripping the pitcher of ale in both hands. The hot sun burnt his skin, sweat gathered in the inside of his elbows, the backs of his knees. Startled awake again by the bell, jumping to attention as she pushed her way back outside.
It was not so much a question of what, now. or even a question at all. She'd hold him in earnest and muse to him, ‘Love is a wonderful thing, isn't it, dear?’
Toby could only ever be grateful. And grateful was the only thing he was. He was a simple street rat she’d taken in and loved like a son. And he’d received it, wholeheartedly, as his heart was as greedy as any other of his kind. He’d do everything, be everything, his body merely an extension of her. He’d hope, all the while, for the meaning in her resolve, her instructions. For the promise of love after she'd had her way.
And when Toby looked in the mirror, he did not recognize the boy looking back at him. He looked at Toby with such an untraceable expression, his brows furrowed and his eyes wide, arms defensively at his sides. Staring, intently. Curious. Maybe, a little disgusted. Each of them frozen in a stalemate, neither willing to make a move. Just looking. Thinking thoughts distant and unknown to the other.
Often, as the day grew late, he’d think of his friends from the workhouse. Sad faces, distant in his memory. As he scrubbed the trays and the plates and the pitcher, he'd feel the familiar shame of leaving the quarters of his superiors, beaten and struggling to keep steady. The sting left on his skin, the ringing in his ears, the heaviness in each movement. There, as he returned, he’d had the understanding faces of the others who'd all been in his place beforehand. Now… the understanding, perhaps, was gleaned when he retired to bed at night- From the empty dark staring back at him where he lay.