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Tommy Innit Watson was not having a good day.
He had forgotten to bring his math homework to school, despite having stayed up late to finish it. He could remember the embarrassment from the teacher scolding him as clear as day. It was worse than the frustration he felt.
His best friend, who had a heart too big and love for bees, was not here. Tubbo had told him last night, saying that he would be absent. Something about helping his older sister at the bakery, Tommy recalled gloomily.
He kicked a pebble across the pavement, watching it roll away before coming to a stop. His thoughts drifted to his foster family. Phil was coming home from work late, leaving Tommy without a ride.
Phil had looked at him with worried eyes, concerned about the twelve-year-old making it back safely. Wilbur had offered to drive him, having just gotten his license. His older twin and Tommy’s idol, Techno, would be at an after-school class and couldn’t drive anyway.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. He thought bitterly. To think that I could do anything on my own.
The worst part was when Jared made those comments about his family.
Tommy was a foster kid. Abandoned at a young age, he had been through more foster homes than he could count. Not once had he stayed for more than a few months. Nobody wanted to take care of a child who had as much energy as Tommy and caused as much trouble as he did. Living with Phil was the longest he had managed so far.
Six months was approaching fast, and those months that been the happiest months of Tommy’s life. Phil didn’t have many rules, he took care of Tommy, and he treated him like he was one of his. Phil wasn’t just his caretaker, he was his dad. Phil loved him.
The twins Techno and Wilbur were intimidating at first, until he learned that they were also foster kids taken in by Phil. After that, he felt a bit better.
So it had hurt when Jared used his deepest fears against him.
“They only took you in out of pity.”
”You know they don’t actually care about you, right?”
“You are so annoying, no one ever would want you.”
And the one that hurt the most?
“They don’t love you.”
Tommy had shattered.
He thought back to all the movie nights, the holidays spent together, and the times they had made him feel as if he was one of them.
Tommy frowned. His vision was getting blurry, and he squinted at the cloudy sky. It was so cold. Did they really care about him?
He tried not to let the offhand comments get to his head, but he couldn’t help but worry. He wasn’t smart like Techno or talented like Wilbur. Instead, he was loud and a nuisance.
Wincing, he tried not to think about it, picking up his pace. Halfway home, the first drops of rain began falling from the sky. Tommy broke out into a run, the chilly wind snapping at his uncovered ears. Behind him, the sound of feet hitting the pavement echoed through the streets. He wished he hadn’t forgotten to bring an umbrella.
Pellets of water dotted his clothes as he sprinted, water splashing when his feet landed in puddles. The asphalt was slippery, but Tommy wasn’t new to the streets.
He slipped into the house, slowly turning the doorknob and shaking his boots off. The lights were off, leaving only shapes for Tommy to navigate through. He found himself in front of the door to his room.
His room. The words left a feeling in his mouth that he couldn’t describe. He climbed into bed, messily rearranging the sheets draped over him. He was out before his head hit the pillow.
Phil was worried. He had heard Tommy enter the house, no matter how silent he had tried to be. Years of experience dealing with his children sneaking out left him with trained ears.
He glanced towards the side at said children, who were sitting side by side at the table, both clear worry on their faces and looking at him for direction.
Phil sighed.
Tommy was drifting in a blissful state. The bed was soft, and he was tired and out of it.
Someone was calling his name. Tommy was too dazed, tuning out the voice. Outside his muffled headspace, fuzzy figures and shapes danced around his vision.
A soft hand rested in his hair. Without thinking much about it, he leaned into the touch. The hand carded through his curls, gently untangling the knots. It reached up to scratch at his scalp, and a contented sigh escaped him.
He felt the bed dip. He didn’t have to open his eyes to know the heavy and slightly awkward presence was Techno. He felt himself being moved into someone’s lap, too disconnected to resist.
Wrapped in a warm embrace, he was held close. He was nestled in a cocoon of blankets, body feeling lighter. The owner of the hand had shifted to rest beside him, leaning closer to whisper in his ear. The familiar low tone of Wilbur’s voice lulled him further into dreamland.
“Sleep well, Toms. We love you.”