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He couldn't believe it. Tommy couldn't fucking believe it. He felt deja vu like whiplash when he stormed out of the house. His stupid fucking parents-
He'd gotten into a fight at school. Again. Like it was anything out of the ordinary. His knuckles were bruised and his ears were ringing. When he bit on his lip to keep from screaming in frustration, his eyes stung from the burst of pain. His dumbass braces had left a nasty cut after he got punched just the right way. Luckily for him, he'd bit it hard enough during the fight with his parents that he'd tasted blood in his mouth.
His parents hadn't been very forgiving. They were tired of getting calls and being forced out of work early. They were tired of having a child who screamed all day and night and couldn't control his temper and was barely passing his classes. They were tired of having a problem child.
Tommy shook his head fiercely, stopping on the sidewalk briefly when it made him see white. He wouldn't cry. He wasn't a baby. He could take punches and insults from people who didn't know shit about him. He could handle being kicked out of his house by his parents.
For a second time, at that.
He'd packed another bag and left, just like they wanted. He nearly didn't bring it. Nearly. He wanted his parents to worry and feel bad like they had last time. On the other hand, he didn't want Wilbur to murder him. He'd given him a key for a reason.
Tommy squeezed the small piece of metal tightly in his hand. He felt the house key digging marks into his skin. Tommy could've been squeezing it hard enough to draw blood and not realize. His anger was seething, but the more he dwelled on it, the more pointless it started to seem. His parents didn't care. They just wanted him to stop acting up. He bet they were wondering why they couldn't have been given a good child instead. One who was quiet and obedient and did what adults told him.
That wasn't going to change a thing. They were stuck with Tommy. They were legally responsible for him and his actions. Tommy eased his grip on Wilbur's key. They'd never get the kid they wanted.
Tommy noticed something then. He was freezing. He'd been so angry and hyped on adrenaline that he'd forgotten to bring a coat. It was the end of October and he'd forgotten to bring a fucking coat.
Stupid.
He'd be at Wilbur's soon enough.
The streets were empty. The night sky was starless. His only company was the streetlights, and only some of them weren't flickering or already dead. He felt lonely. The thought made tears prick at the back of his eyes.
It made sense. His own parents didn't want him. Why would anyone else bother to keep him around?
He stomped up Wilbur's steps, sniffling from what he insisted was the cold. He didn't knock, even though he saw lights on. He hadn't even given Wilbur a notice. It was too late now, anyways. He opened the door and stepped inside.
It was warm. Warmer than Tommy ever felt in his own house. It smelled like garlic bread, and the soft hum of music came from somewhere in the house. Tommy quietly shut the door behind him. It felt too peaceful to disturb. The lights in the hallway were a dim, welcoming orange. Tommy felt the last bit of fight drain out of him.
He dropped his bag to the floor and slid to the ground, back against the door. He pulled his knees to his chest and hid his face in his arms, inhaling sharply. Why was he so... fucked up?
He dug his nails into his arms and bit his lip again without thinking. He let out an involuntary whimper and tried to curl deeper into himself. He was such an embarrassment. His own parents didn't love him, so he had to come crawling to Wilbur whenever his pathetic ass needed babysat. He blinked rapidly, feeling tears escape down his cheeks. He wasn't sure he wanted to stay here anymore, if anyone saw him like this-
The stairs creaked, and Tommy heard a familiar humming. The soft mumble of lyrics was something he'd heard in VC too many times before. He recognized the tune, a new song Wilbur was working on. Well, it looked like it was too late now. He didn't look up when socked feet stopped on the landing.
Wilbur's voice was quiet, concern straining his whisper, "Tommy?"
He lifted his head. He gave Wilbur a weak smile and a shaky, "Hey, Wil."
"What-What the hell happened?" Wilbur asked, quickly crossing the gap between them and kneeling beside him.
"I, uh- I got kicked out again, big man," Tommy told him, chuckling sadly. "So... here I am."
"Christ, Tommy, did you-did you walk here? It's freezing outside!" Wilbur questioned. He grabbed one of Tommy's hands and, feeling the chill, immediately bundled the boy in his arms. "You should've called me, I would've come gotten you!"
"Yeah, sorry, I just-" Tommy inhaled quickly. His exhale was replaced by a gasping sob. He choked out, "I couldn't think-"
He felt Wil's arms squeeze him a little tighter. Tommy brought his hands up to grasp onto Wilbur's sweater. He tucked his head in the man's shoulder and tried to suppress his tears. Trying to stop hurt, it was like he was cutting off his own airways. He felt an arm slide beneath his knees and he was being picked up off the floor. Wilbur was carrying him, to where he didn't care. His chest hurt and lights felt too bright and sounds felt too loud. He just wanted out. He clamped his eyes shut and relished the darkness behind his eyelids. When he heard a door shut and he was sat back down, Wilbur vanished from his side.
"Wil-" he hiccuped, hands grabbing the comforter beneath him just to have something to hold on to. A warm and heavy blanket was quickly tossed over his shoulders.
"Yeah, Toms, I'm right here," Wilbur told him gently, and he felt his body sink into the space next to his. "Tell me what's wrong."
Tommy slowly tilted to the side, stopping only when his shoulder bumped against Wilbur's. He felt like the room was slipping away from him, like he'd slide off the bed if he let go of the comforter.
He mumbled, "I think I have a concussion."
"Christ," he heard Wilbur say in a breath. He felt a hand on his shoulder as Wil said, "I'm just gonna go into my bathroom, alright? I'm gonna get some painkillers and something for your lip. You can open your eyes, if you want, I'll turn the lights down a bit."
Tommy nodded and shivered as Wilbur's warmth left his side. He heard a door open and cabinets being searched. He tentatively opened his eyes, sighing when the light level didn't make his head feel like it was gonna explode. He watched Wilbur's back as he crouched in front of a cupboard, digging around for something. He'd stopped crying, finally. It let him notice a trail of something warm running down his chin. Wiping at it, a concerning amount of blood appeared on his hand. An amount that nearly made him nauseous.
Wilbur sat in front of him again, a small first aid kit and a washrag in hand. He took Tommy's face in his hand and said, "This'll sting, but just hold still, okay?"
Tommy hummed, non-committal, and let Wilbur do as he pleased. He let Wil clean his face with the rag and flinched as the antiseptic touched his lip. He put one of those weird white bandaids that closed things on his lip and was done. When he was offered some Advil, he took it gratefully and slumped back, choosing to lay on Wil's bed.
"Now," Wil started quietly, staring at Tommy's bruised knuckles and obviously knowing what happened, "can you tell me what happened?"
Tommy swallowed. He decided he couldn't look at Wilbur without feeling guilty, so he stared at the ceiling instead.
"I, uh," Tommy raised a hand, showing the purple and blue coloration, "I got in another fight."
"Tommy, we've talked about this-"
"I know, I know, I should get an adult or some shit," he sighed. He threw an arm over his eyes and gestured wildly with the other. "Except, y'know, when I get cornered in the bathroom and they start shit-talking, I got a little fired up-"
"Wait wait wait-hold on, they cornered you in the bathroom?" Wilbur asked incredulously.
Oh, Tommy thought, wincing. Maybe I should've left that bit out.
"Yeah," Tommy answered slowly, feeling his throat starting to close. "By the time it even mattered, someone'd already said I started shit."
"Did you defend yourself? Tell them otherwise?"
"Of course I did! They didn't believe me, I'm always the one starting problems!" Tommy shouted, sitting up quickly. That turned out to be an awful idea, because he instantly became so dizzy he had to grab Wilbur's arm until his vision cleared. He slid his hands off Wilbur once it did, gripping the blanket around him instead. He mumbled, "Three regular kids against one problem child, who would you believe?"
Wilbur's face dropped. He shuffled back so he was pressed against Tommy's side and asked gently, "Is that what you think? That you're a problem child? Because that's not true at all."
Tommy scoffed, "Of course it is. Do you know any other kid that's been kicked out of their house twice by their parents? They're so sick of me and my shit they don't even want me anymore."
His voice was breaking. He always got mushy around Wilbur. It was a pain in the ass. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Wilbur open his arms. He sighed and leaned into him, ignoring the pressure behind his eyes. Wilbur wrapped his arms around him and rested his chin on Tommy's hair.
"That's not true, you know that," Wilbur told him.
Tommy chuckled sadly, "I really don't."
He heard Wilbur exhale through his nose. "Then talk to them about it. If it's bothering you this much, you need to. And believe me, I will talk to them for you if you don't."
"God, that'd be embarrassing," Tommy grumbled, sniffling.
He felt Wilbur's laugh in his chest and smiled weakly. Wilbur started to card his fingers through Tommy's hair.
"But seriously, I will talk to them if you don't want to," Wilbur repeated sincerely.
"Nah, I-I'll do it," Tommy insisted, shaking his head. "I've bothered you enough."
"Nope, wrong again," Wilbur stated. He squeezed him slightly and continued, "We have our bits, but you will never actually bother me, Tommy. You can come to me for literally anything and I will help you."
"Are you sure?" Tommy asked tentatively.
"Yes, I am sure," Wilbur assured him. "I care about your wellbeing, Tommy. You will always be a little brother to me. God, if we'd lost you on the streets again, I don't know if I'd recover. Just-Just call me if you need anything, alright?"
Tommy nodded and mumbled, "Yeah, I will."
"Good," Wilbur smiled.
Wilbur waited, rhythmically running his fingers through Tommy's hair, until he fell asleep. Wil carefully lifted him and settled him under the covers. It was the easiest thing to do... and he didn't have the heart to leave Tommy on the couch. He grabbed his phone, turned off the lights, and let Tommy sleep.
If when he called Tommy's mother to tell her what happened he had something a little bit more heated to say, Tommy wouldn't know.