Chapter Text
Wilbur is kind of freaking out.
Tommy is at his home. Tommy came to his home. Why is Tommy at his home??? And to top it all off, this shift couldn’t pass by any slower than it currently is.
Every single drink he pours drags out for an eternity and every minute of freetime only serves as a reminder that Tommy is at his home and he is not there.
And his mind sprints through every possible reason that Tommy could be there three times over. He knows Tommy, but not in the important way.
He knows Tommy in all the ways that don’t matter.
He knows he likes the color red and that he is still in school and that he’s been working at the café for quite a while now. He knows that he is one of the funniest kids he has ever met, he knows that listens and watches others more than people listen and watch him.
He knows that Tommy is Tommy and that he would never come unless something was wrong. Because he is proud and far too stubborn to admit to needing help.
And maybe he hasn’t said it directly, but him coming says it all.
Wilbur never expected him to show up, because while he may see himself in Tommy’s eyes, he also doesn’t actually know if what he sees is the truth.
He’s stressed and the clock is ticking by slowly and Tommy is at his house.
Someone asks for a refill.
Wilbur sighs and looks at the clock.
He has a long night ahead of him.
—
The walls are empty, the room is empty, the fridge is empty, the apartment is empty.
It’s all so empty.
Except for Tommy.
He is the only thing keeping it from being utterly empty.
He feels incredibly out of place. The living room is drab; everything was drab.
Tommy didn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t have his phone, he doesn’t have anything. He has the lawn chairs that Wilbur is using as a couch and the mattress in Wilbur’s room.
That’s all he has.
And he should be grateful that Wilbur let him stay while he was at work, but he just has to sit here and entertain himself with his thoughts.
Big shocker, his thoughts aren’t very entertaining.
And the more he stays in Wilbur’s apartment, the more antsy he becomes. He regrets coming here if he’s being honest.
He doesn’t even know what he’s going to say when Wilbur gets back. He doesn’t even know why he’s here. Wilbur doesn’t need this.
He could leave, nothing is holding him here.
But the thought of going back to his father’s house now is just not allowed. If his father was mad before, he is sure to be furious now.
Tommy has never done something like this before and following the events that have led him here, he isn’t quite sure what the consequences for this would even be.
He isn’t quite sure he is strong enough to find out.
There is no clock in Wilbur’s apartment, so Tommy is stuck only with his mental timer as he waits.
And every tick of that timer only serves to uptick his heart beat and ramp up his thoughts.
His leg bounces as he waits, the night only continues to lengthen as he watches the door in anxious anticipation.
It’s horrible, he hates this. He wants to go home, but he isn’t quite sure he ever had one to begin with.
The moment his shift ends, he is clocked out and out the door. Normally he lingers a bit, helps out for the extra cash, but not tonight.
Tonight he has to get home because Tommy is there.
He practically sprints the whole way back to his apartment, yet once he arrives he can’t help but begin to worry about all the reasons Tommy could have shown up.
He enters the door and begins to walk up the stairs, he has never trusted the elevator.
He knows Tommy must have a good reason for showing up, and an even better reason for staying.
Wilbur pauses.
What if he left?
He stands in the stairwell all alone and is suddenly hit with the realization that Tommy might have left. That would be fine, Tommy is allowed to do what he wants, but he came.
He showed up to Wilbur’s apartment with his little backpack and a scared look on his face and he must be in trouble, he wouldn’t have come otherwise. But he might have left. He might have gotten scared and left.
Wilbur takes a deep breath. He wouldn’t be shocked if Tommy left, in fact that is expected from the boy with the secrets hidden behind his dull eyes and forced smiles. Though, Wilbur cannot help but hope that he is still in the apartment, waiting for him.
It’s foolish. Wilbur has no stake in Tommy, but he wants to. He wants to be someone he can come to, he wants to be a person for Tommy that Wilbur never had the luxury of having growing up.
He reaches the third floor and he enters the hallway and he takes a deep breath. He mentally prepares himself for an empty apartment, just as empty as it always has been.
He walks down the hall and he doesn’t allow himself to get his hopes up, that wouldn’t be fair to himself.
Another breath as he stands right outside his door, his key in his hand. He can do this. A noise sounds from behind the door.
A noise.
Tommy is still there. Wilbur knows this isn’t necessarily a good thing, but he can’t help but feel relieved.
He unlocks his door and steps inside. Tommy is sitting on one of the lawn chairs with his backpack in his lap as he rifles through it.
At the sound of the door though he snaps his head up, looking at Wilbur with a quick glance of fear before it settles into something more neutral at the realization of who it is.
“Oh, hey.”
Wilbur chuckles gently, and as he walks further into his apartment it almost feels like he is a stranger in a new environment.
“Hey, Tommy.”
It’s quiet in the apartment, every brush of their clothes against their arms and every minute breath can be heard.
Wilbur sits down in the other lawn chair. He has never needed both before: it’s weird.
“Uh, I should probably go…”
Tommy goes to stand but Wilbur shakes his head and Tommy seems to take that as his sign to pause.
“Don’t. You can stay; you don’t have to tell me anything, but you can stay.”
Tommy nods slowly, “Oh.”
And with that he settles back down into his own chair. The silence that falls between them feels suffocating. It is thick and full and Wilbur cannot even begin to think of how he could possibly break it.
“Uh…”
The word feels stale falling from his mouth, yet Tommy looks at him like he holds the answers to the world’s longest standing mysteries.
“Are you hungry?”
Tommy nods cautiously, “A tad.”
Wilbur nods, “Well, let’s go get dinner then.”
And with that he stands up and heads towards the door. Tommy pauses for a moment before following and together they leave the apartment behind in search of some place to eat.
They end up in some diner that is open 24 hours a day. There is one other person in the place when the two of them enter, and the whole place smells vaguely of burgers and something else that he can’t quite name.
Yet, they end up sitting in a booth across from one another.
Tommy stares at Wilbur, studies him while he looks through the menu.
Wilbur looks up and gives Tommy a small smile and it feels pitiful, but somehow Tommy knows that is not what it is intended to be.
“What are you going to get?”
Tommy glances at the menu in his own hand, he’s barely even skimmed it. Food doesn’t sound so appealing now that he is there.
He quickly scans the menu, “Uh, chicken tenders.”
Wilbur smiles, “Good choice, I think I’ll get the same.”
And with that he waves the waitress over and they order and then it’s just kind of quiet. There is music playing over the diner’s speakers and the soft chatter of the workers in the back, but aside from that it is quite desolate.
No noise comes from their table for a little while.
Wilbur coughs and Tommy just kind of stares at him. He knows it's his fault it is so awkward, he knows Wilbur wants to know why he is here, but he can’t bring himself to say the words aloud, so he stays silent.
“You know, I used to come here with an old friend, back when I was in highschool.”
Tommy nods slowly, he doesn’t speak, but he listens.
“She used to drive me here, back when I wanted to get away from everything. It was nice, we would just sit and eat and sometimes we would talk, most times it was silent.”
Tommy doesn’t miss the unspoken words at the end of that sentence, he doesn’t miss how it mirrors this moment.
“Sometimes, she would request music to be played, and somehow we would convince them to change the station. It was always a good time.”
The waitress slides two plates of chicken tenders onto their table and flashes them a tired smile as she walks away.
Tommy nods.
Wilbur continues speaking.
“This is just kind of nostalgic I guess,” he says as he grabs a chicken tender, dipping it in the ketchup that came with their meal.
“Yeah,” Tommy manages to choke out as he shoves the food around his plate absentmindedly.
Wilbur sighs as he takes a bite and it’s obvious to Tommy he has more he wants to say, yet he doesn’t.
They fall into a stilted silence as the two of them eat. It isn’t quite as uncomfortable as before, but it is still far from an easy silence to bear.
And eventually, they finish their food and Wilbur pays and they are standing outside. The moon rises into the night sky, and if it weren’t for the light pollution Tommy is sure the stars would glisten back at him.
Wilbur stares at the sky and they don’t move for a minute. Tommy almost wonders if he is going to send him home, but instead he begins to speak softly.
“Niki, my friend, she was like my family.”
Tommy doesn’t really know where he is going with this, yet he nods along anyways.
“You’re like family too.”
Tommy’s breath catches in his throat.
“Or at least, I think you’re becoming like family.”
And then they begin their walk back to Wilbur’s apartment. Neither of them speak for a while after that, but Tommy mulls over the words.
Family.
He doesn’t know if he has had a family in a really long time. He looks at Wilbur, he watches the way he walks with ease and a small smile and the way he walks slightly in front of Tommy as though he is protecting him from hidden monsters.
Family.
Tommy opens his mouth, words spilling out before he has a chance to swallow them back down, “I don’t know what it means to be family.”
Wilbur pauses, looking back at Tommy with a gentle frown, “I didn’t either for a really long time.”
And somewhere, hidden between the lines, is a sense of understanding that Tommy is slowly beginning to grasp.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Wilbur says, repeating his words from earlier in the night, “but I think that I might understand.”
Tommy frowns, “How?”
Wilbur looks at Tommy, and it almost feels like he is studying his soul.
“Neither of my parents wanted me, I was their biggest regret I think,” Wilbur begins as he walks forward and the words feel far too vulnerable for a night like this.
“My mom preferred it when I was gone, quiet, a shadow. My dad turned to alcohol, he was mean when he was drunk…”
Wilbur looks off into the distance and Tommy looks in the same direction as if he too will be able to see what Wilbur sees.
“I learned that quickly.”
Tommy nods.
“And, I don’t know, but when I first saw you, saw your eyes,” Wilbur says, words falling from his lips like he can’t bear to hold them.
“I felt like I was looking at myself.”
The words slice through the night and hit Tommy right in his heart, “What?”
The word is whispered like a gasp and Wilbur just looks at Tommy.
“I don’t know, I can’t really explain it. I just could see my past in your eyes.”
Tommy stumbles over his thoughts, every single sentence he could say in response flying through his brain.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Wilbur says so gently that Tommy almost doesn’t catch it.
“I’m fine.”
Wilbur frowns, “I never said you weren’t.”
Tommy opens his mouth, but no words escape him. They’re all held prisoner to his mind as he reels at the words that Wilbur has told him tonight.
“I’m fine.”
Wilbur just nods, “Let’s just go back to my place.”
Tommy shakes his head though. Wilbur’s story replays in his mind, it wasn’t detailed by any means, but Tommy can fill in the blanks easily enough.
Wilbur saw himself in Tommy.
He shudders at the thought. And when he looks up at Wilbur, he also hears that single word from before: family.
Is this what family is supposed to be like? He barely knows Wilbur and Wilbur barely knows him, but being around him is easy. It is far easier than it has been with anyone else. Is this what family is?
“My father,” Tommy starts before trailing off.
Wilbur looks at him, and understanding seems to flash in his eyes without Tommy even needing to utter the words out loud.
“It’s not your fault you know?”
Tommy looks at Wilbur, “It’s never happened before.”
Wilbur frowns and he looks like he wants to say so many words, he settles on just a few.
“It’s still not your fault.”
“Oh.”
Wilbur nods, stepping closer to Tommy and hesitantly pulling him under his arm, tucking him into his side.
It’s kind of nice, Tommy doesn’t quite mind it.
“I have to go back though, don’t I?”
Wilbur breaths and Tommy can feel the way his chest rises and falls and the way his arm tenses at the question.
They keep walking for a bit before he responds, Tommy doesn’t mind the wait.
“I guess so, technically he is still your guardian.”
Tommy sighs, “I could just stay with my mom, he’d probably prefer that.”
“Is she any better?”
Tommy shrugs, “She’s different from him.”
A silence falls between the two of them, for the first time that night it doesn’t feel so stifling.
Wilbur’s apartment building looms in front of them, sleep pulls at the pair, yet they stop just short.
“You could… stay with me?”
Tommy’s breath stutters at the words, “With you?”
Wilbur nods, “Would they mind?”
Tommy shrugs, “I don’t think they would care all that much. My dad might get mad, but I think he will get over it soon enough.”
He feels the way Wilbur processes the words, “You’ll have to go back for a little, tell them you’re moving out, see how they respond.”
Tommy nods, “Yeah, that would probably be for the best.”
They both look at the apartment building.
“But that’s a tomorrow issue, yeah?”
Tommy nods against Wilbur, “Yeah.”
His mom takes it well, she didn’t care whether he stayed or not. His dad took it less well, but after a while he agreed. Tommy thinks it’s because he realized that it was one less mouth to feed and person to care for.
And so, Tommy left. He still went to school and he still worked at the cafe, except now when he was done he returned to Wilbur’s apartment.
Slowly, he filled the walls with random posters and paintings and he put leftovers from the cafe in the fridge and he shoved another mattress into Wilbur’s bedroom.
And it was nice.
The apartment was fuller, not so utterly empty.
Wilbur walks into the apartment, Tommy is sitting on one of the lawn chairs, reading a book.
He looks up, “Hey Wil.”
The nickname warms Wilbur’s heart like nothing else.
“Hey Toms.”
He has a bag in his hand, Tommy eyes it.
“I didn’t know you were going grocery shopping today.”
“I wasn’t.”
Tommy frowns, “Then what’s in the bag?”
Wilbur smiles, reaching into the bag and pulling out a cupcake, “Happy birthday.”
Tommy looks at Wilbur, eyes wide, “You got me a cupcake?”
Wilbur nods, “Yeah, I don’t really have enough money for anything big, but I thought this might be nice…”
Tommy rushes over, hugging Wilbur tightly, “Thank you.”
Wilbur smiles, “It’s what family does right?”
His chest aches as he says the word.
“Yeah, I guess so.”
And his heart blooms at the confirmation.
“Here, eat your cake,” he says gently.
Tommy nods, “Okay.”
And he eats it and they laugh and talk and Wilbur hasn’t known family in a really long time, but with Tommy it feels natural. His laugh lights up the room, his presence makes everything feel right.
Tommy feels like the family Wilbur always wanted.
And as they sit there on two lawn chairs in that run down apartment, Wilbur is glad that he is getting to learn what family means with Tommy.