Chapter Text
Tommy peered around the parking lot. To be quite honest, he didn’t even know why he was still there. He left hours earlier with nothing but his phone, lacking even a proper jacket. Shit, I forgot my charger. He laughed at himself. He didn't know how much use a charger would be when he was alone with only the streetlamp watching over him.
Forgetting the tragedy that was his life at the moment, Tommy felt around for his phone that was currently powered off in his back pocket. Pulling it close to him, he let himself imagine a world in which he wasn't abandoned and on the street at 3 am on a Tuesday. He knew he had college the next day, and he also knew there was no way he would be there after tonight. Not with the bruise across his cheek that he could feel darkening as the time passed him by. Not with the blood he could feel dripping from his nose.
He remembered with a sad sigh that he was supposed to have streamed about two hours ago– if the LED clock across the street hanging from the gas station was correct. That was before his parents kicked him out. Maybe kicked wasn't the right way to describe it. He could go back now– if he was alright with getting the shit beat out of him the second he stepped back inside the entryway. On the streets it was. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He tried to be good. He really did. It was just never enough. He sniffled a bit, adjusting himself on the curb.
His mind flashed through his dads' angry face, and his mother watching silently. He shook his head to rid the memory. His mind drifted to his friends. He wondered if they'd noticed he wasn't there yet. Or if they'd even care if they did notice. He vaguely recalled a scheduled recording for Wilbur he'd agreed to that night. Great. Add another person to the list of people he'd let down. He only noticed he had been lost deep in thought when he was brought back to the real world by a group of people scoffing.
They couldn't have been more than a couple of years older than Tommy. What left Tommy paralyzed with fear was the realization that they were staring at him and passing something between themselves. It glinted in the light the moon provided. That was a bad sign. He looked back behind him, his stomach dropping at the realization he was completely and utterly alone. Unless you wanted to count the people that were likely about to jump him, which he did not.
Never in his life had he wished he could call for Techno (The Blade, his mind unhelpfully supplied) or Phil (...za Minecraft) to come and save him as in that moment. He immediately scratched that thought, thinking back to the many times he’s worried them over his stupid issues. His brain didn’t get the memo, still calling for Wilbur to hug him and to fix this for him.
A semi-truck came down the road, startling Tommy out of his frozen state. His mind began to race. Can I make it to Tesco before they make it to me? He sat up quickly and bolted. He didn’t stop until he heard the bell chime as he shoved open the door, and he saw the poor cashier working the night shift give him a once-over glance before returning to whatever they were doing.
He stalked down a random aisle, looking behind him to check he hadn’t been followed. He finally let himself relax, looking up to be met with none other than Wilbur Soot. That had not been a part of his plan. He doubled back into the aisle behind him, hiding in the diary section. Oh god. Now seemed like the perfect time to sink into the floor and never be heard from again. He thought back to the probably–his nose throbbed suddenly–definitely still noticeable damage done to his face. This wasn’t good. What the fuck is he doing here? How did I even end up here? He’d honestly blanked out on everything, his only priority being to get as far away from his parents as fast as he could. He could almost recall a train station, but the memory seemed far away, fuzzy.
Part of him called to rush over to Wilbur, to ask for help, for him to make everything better. The other part screamed at him that he can’t let Wilbur see him like this, that he needed to get out of there and hide, that he can’t let his friends know anything was wrong. He frantically weighed the options, trying to determine which side of his brain held the answer in his best interest. Logically, he knew he needed to tell an adult. He couldn’t stay out here all night, he was 16 years old for god's sake.
Luckily (unluckily?), the choice had been made for him. Wilbur had spotted him. “Tommy? What the fuck are you doing here?” Tommy didn’t detect any horror in Wilbur’s voice, hopefully, he hadn’t spotted the injuries yet. He knew that couldn’t last forever.
Wilbur was approaching him. Tommy shuffled back, hitting the shelf. He still had yet to make eye contact. Wilbur’s previously harsh voice turned to one of a soothing nature. “Toms, I need you to look at me.”
There it was. Tommy peered up into Wilbur’s confused gaze. The other shoe dropped. “Tommy? Oh my god, what the fuck happened to your face? Are you okay?” Tommy said nothing as he closed the distance between them. Wilbur let out another noise of confusion as Tommy barreled into his arms.
“I’m sorry” Tommy sniffled out. He buried his face into Wilbur’s soft sweater as tears began to drip down his face.
“I-it’s okay Tommy. It’s okay,” Wilbur attempted to reassure him. “It’s going to be okay,” he said with more confidence.
Wilbur placed his hand on the back of Tommy’s head, cradling him against his chest. Wilbur didn’t understand what was going on, and something had happened to Tommy, but he was holding his little brother– and he was going to make sure everything was okay.