Work Text:
TW: KIDNAPPING, DRUGGING, (KINDA) DISASSOCIATION
Rows of lockers lined up at the entrance, the afternoon sky resembling more of the evening as the clouds refused to part. A horrible stench emerged from one of the open lockers, a boy who had previously been in detention now standing alone with his head hung down.
The textbooks his father spent money on were ripped and tattered, blood staining the metal as the corpse of a rat let out a reek. He gripped the backpack strap in his hand tighter, fingers trembling and trying to stop the choking sounds of sobs from escaping his lips.
He reached his hand out and clasped the most ruined textbook out of them all, a review book that he desperately needed to complete his assignment.
Reports were nothing in this school, though they were all of the same prowess power-wise, his background had made him the social outcast from day one.
All of it was their fault, his family's fault for not passing on their gift to him. The gift to soar, reach towards the heavens, and have the sunlight kiss their skin gently. Tommy knew it wasn't their fault that he was the disgrace of the family, he didn't inherit their superior genes.
The slam of the locker bounced on the walls, letting out a small echo due to the silence. He needed to clean it out, but he didn't have the heart to look at the horrific sight of the rodent again.
He could practically hear them in the morning, stifling laughter as he passed them in the hall, hands empty as he had nothing left to carry. He left through the gates of the school and glanced up at the somber sky.
His Fridays were always supposed to be terrific, he was supposed to feel refreshed as he exited the hellhole for two days. Tommy got to stay up late during the nights of the weekend, he got to eat desserts after dinner. This Friday wasn't that appealing though.
The streets were empty, the dim street lights flickering and flashing. The sounds of his footsteps against the pavement only seemed to make him hate himself more at the moment, his brother used to fly home. Why wasn't Tommy able to fly home? He was stuck with stupid legs that could only carry him certain amounts of distances before failing.
He slung his backpack around his shoulder, the weight of it too light. It was empty now, all of his shit was ruined. His knuckles begged him to punch something, to deck someone even if they were innocent. His throat itched, wanting to let out a blood-curdling scream like a gladiator charging into battle. His eyelids were heavy, pleading for him to let them close and never open again.
The sounds of his footsteps grew louder, his ears were playing tricks on him as he tried to navigate the confusing roads and pathways to his home. His breathing seemed to be increasing in volume, more raspy and low than his normal shaky breaths. Though he was alone, he almost felt like he was being accompanied by another on this cold path.
Something assaulted his nose, the pungent smell of cologne wafting through his nostrils. He never used cologne? His brother did, maybe it rubbed off on his own body.
His mind was racing, two conflicting thoughts spiraling through his head. One was telling him that he was so aware of his senses and that he had to stop being so wary. The other thought, however, was demanding he turn around.
A sudden tug on his backpack broke him out of his thoughts, as the alarms rang as his feet shuffled though he didn't move them. He tried to yank the bag off of him, and as it fell off his shoulder he bolted. Pressure hit the top of his head as he felt the locks of blonde hair on his scalp be yanked and pulled. His hair felt like it was going to rip off as he was shoved into the trunk of a car with tinted windows and no color to contrast against the street. With the sound of the trunk closing, he tried to process what happened as a sting was still plaguing his head.
He drew his fists towards the door of the boot, rapping against it until his skin morphed into a red color. The sobs he was previously held back, hidden inside him from the locker event released in even more power. The screams he dearly wanted to let out now repeating back to him as his throat became sore, his eyes tight and shut just in case something else was accompanying him in the compact space that he wouldn't want to see.
His bag was gone, laying in the middle of nowhere on his route back home. Who would want him gone? He was a basic blue-eyed blondie with no sick abilities or wings. Was it for a ransom from the people who actually mattered in the world? His brother and father who compared to him had achieved things he would never.
He curled up into a ball, arms embracing his knees as he drew his legs closer to his torso. Tommy had no more tears left to cry, already using them all up.
He didn't remember much else of the ride.
He didn't fight back, why would he? The men were twice his size, muscly and burly. The normal him would fight back, the encouraged and confident one that hadn't been through that horrible Friday. Swear in the man's face and laugh at him, tell them that Tommy never died. He was hurled into a room, walls that were a simple grey with scratches and scratched off paint. Thrown against the wooden floorboards with a gasp, the door was latched shut.
He could barely see, no light-fixtures or anything that could hint at any life. He shuffled towards the wall and leaned against it, trying to feel some sense of security as his mind ran a marathon to figure out what situation he was in.
He wished he had a watch, he wished he had something to tell the time. Tommy wanted to know how long he was in that damned car, sitting there and bawling his eyes out in the trunk.
If it was Wilbur and his dad in this situation, they would be comforting each other by running their hands through each other's feathers. Tommy's back could use some feathers to run hands through right now.
Alone, utterly alone. Tommy's lip trembled, rubbing his eyes until they were bloodshot. The room was too dark, crushing him under its pressure. The door seemed to expand every minute, laughing at him as he sat helplessly. Alone.
An exhale in the room drew his attention as his head whipped towards the source of the noise. The corner that seemed darker than the rest housing a figure who leaned against the wall and just stared at the ground.
"Hello...?" Tommy drawled out, hands falling into his lap as he attempted to profile the man through blurry eyes.
The man didn't seem to respond, his appearance was much more sullied than Tommy's own state. Long hair that seemed to fall down to his elbows, knotted with wisps poking out all over the place.
He let out an odor that wasn't that strong compared to the other scents from the day. He sported a white tee with black sweatpants, the attire like something you'd wear to the gym. They were poorly conditioned, dirty, and wrinkled.
One of the most noticeable features was the pig ears that decorated his head, earring holes running across the ears that were closing off.
"You too?" He said simply, not bothering to even face the boy propped on the floor. "Last one, a girl.."
"What? Last..." Tommy felt his blood run cold, he really was going to die here, wasn't he?
Tommy wished for some noise, any sort of conversation just so the silence wouldn't feel so excruciatingly long and pointless. The sound of their heavy breathes drawing in and out filled the room to the brim, nothing else emerging from the encounter.
Tommy scratched against the floorboards, nails grinding against the wood as marks were left. Tommy occasionally looked over to where the gloomy man stood, the guy never moved a muscle.
He looked so much older... Was he kidnapped as a kid too? Would he have to be in here that long? What were Wilbur and Phil doing right now? Was it even night?
The man finally moved, scrambling in place and fixing his posture. Tommy observed him in curiosity, fingers pausing what they were doing to just stare.
The man didn't care he was staring, if he did then he would have said something. He was too preoccupied in his own little world. The sudden change of movement from the man frightened Tommy though, why would he go into sudden distress?
Tommy got his answer as the door creaked open, a skinny-looking man with a crowbar equipped and crusty lips looming over him from the doorway.
"You know the drill, Technoblade." He said to the man in the corner, who bit his lip and nodded in hesitance.
Technoblade gripped Tommy's arm, crushing it with brute force alone, dragging Tommy up and across the room. They entered a hallway, it seemed to be a rundown hallway of a house, cobwebs lingering in every corner. Tommy tried to thrash away, yet Techno's grip was too strong.
Tommy swore he heard a small, muffled, and monotone apology from him, but he didn't have the time to process it as he was chucked into a chair. His attempts to escape were futile, the lanky man tying him with rope to the chair as he wriggled around.
"Let me go! Let me g-" A piece of cloth was forced into his mouth, muffling all protests the teenager had. Technoblade was nowhere to obtain seen, seemingly left the room. A small syringe was wedged into the flesh of his arm, Tommy leaned away and tried to do anything he could to avoid the syringe but it was too late.
A sting filled his head, a ringing dominated his brain as he couldn't string together any coherent sentences in his mind. His inner monologue was completely shut down, the feeling of the needle pricking his skin making his stomach churn.
Lights seemed to form in his eyes, though the house was still dark and all the blinds were draped shut. Green... Blue... Pink... All colors intermingling and merging together. The lanky man injecting him started to duplicate, his vision spinning as everything got darker and darker and darker.
Then nothing was left. Only the feeling of cold ice pressed against his skin.
Tommy peered at the ceiling, lights still flashing through his head. The headache had subsided. He muttered to himself, small non-coherent phrases.
"You're alive?" Technoblade asked with surprise... Or was his name... Techie? Technire? He didn't really remember. All he knew was that the man who previously lurked in the corner the entire time was now next to him, finally taking the time to observe him.
"Mmm..." Tommy hummed. "Why... Did you... Ehh."
"Can't fight back... They need me." Techno said, tucking strands of hair behind his ear. He still looked ridiculous in Tommy's opinion, a pink blob with hygiene issues.
"How long?"
"A few weeks." Technoblade lifted his hands, counting fingers. "At least... I think..."
"Few weeks... Me?" Tommy droned, to which Techno let out a little huff.
"If you keep surviving, probably longer."
"Tommy." He yawned, to which Techno raised an eyebrow. "I am Tommy the manliest maannnnn...."
"How old... Oh- you're asleep."
It's been a few days... Or weeks. He couldn't count anymore. His hair was nearly as tangled as Techno's own. Every day he would be visited, he never remembered much after that.
Technoblade was good company, he didn't remember much of their conversations but the small drabbles he did remember were nice. The memories were warm even if they were many blobs instead of actual figures.
The floorboards had marks from scratches that Tommy had carved with his nails, dirt now under his fingernails and uneven. "One... Two..." He buzzed, counting how many times he roughened the wood.
"Bored?" The familiar voice said. He was inspecting the walls, an escape route maybe? Tommy had already accepted escape was futile. The pink-haired man turned to the boy. "Want me to keep you company?"
He was much more vocal compared to the first few days... Or nights? Memory was still fuzzy. Tommy let out a small nod, Technoblade slid down to Tommy's level.
"You ever played chopsticks with your friends before?" Techno smirked, taking out two fingers.
"With friends... Uh- nah. Is that a karate thing or some shit? You did karate, right?"
"I did kickboxing... Now take out two fingers, place them in front of you." Techno explained, to which Tommy followed. "Then, if you hit my finger I put up one finger. If I hit your finger with two fingers, you put up two."
"So it's... Maths?" Tommy tilted his head. "That sounds boring."
"What else can we do? Play soccer?" Techno snorted to which Tommy shifted in place, biting his tongue.
Quiet, it was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. Tommy heard his heart thumping through his ears, sweat rolling down. He didn't... It wasn't... Tommy would die here, he would die here with Technoblade and never see his family again.
Maybe when he was dead he could finally soar?
The piglin hybrid placed a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. "I'm sorry... I shouldn't of said that."
"How did you get here Techno? You're a massive dude..." Tommy's hand trailed up the man's arm muscles. "You're muscly, you could take me out in a flick of a finger."
"I-... Let's just say somebody very close to me was blinded by greed." Techno said low, shuddering at the cold touch of the boys' fingers. "And my powers could do nothing against them."
"I thought powers solved everything?" Tommy murmured, ignoring the sounds of footsteps echoing through the halls drawing closer to the room.
"No... Not everything." Techno said, holding onto Tommy's hands and dragging them off of his biceps. "Or else I wouldn't be here."
Tommy's hands were directed to the man's hair, caressing the pink locks. "Kid, I won't let them hurt you..."
A shadow loomed over the two on the floor.
It was time for the injection.
The silence was replaced with the sounds of sirens. The sound of hope. This must of been a trick, the blonde youth didn't know how long he had lasted in here. Felt like literal years, but he didn't age.
What had they done to him anyway? Would he die if he stepped outside and touched sunlight? Strong arms wrapped around the blonde, nuzzling the broken teenager.
"Everything will be fine... Just fine..."
He was safe with Technoblade. Hands groomed his hair, Techno crooning to the boy. Like how his fathers' hands would go through the feathers of Wilbur's wings.
Tommy understood why Wilbur enjoyed it so much now, the warmth of someone you trust caressing you and telling you it'll be okay. If a hurricane was showering down, you know they'd always save you. They'll remind you that you will be safe and sound no matter what occurred.
This time the figure that stood over them wasn't the muscly men or skinny man who would jab that needle into the blondes' arm. It was a man dressed in familiar clothing, cop clothing, and gun in hand.
"My god... We found the kid."
Things were finally the same, they had assumed they were locked in there. Tommy refused to spill anything about the drugs they gave him, he was so dirty already.
Where was Technoblade? They took him away before he could check on the man. He missed the man.
He wanted Technoblade back.
But Technoblade was dead. They shot him. They thought he was an enemy. Techno wouldn't hurt him. The cop was a racist who just hated piglins, that's what he was. Racist... Racist... Murderer...
Tommy needed his father, Techno, back. He needed the man of warmth to come back and rescue him.
His savior, his savior, his savior... Where was his savior to drag him away from this place? This house where he wasn't like the rest.
He had to go back to school soon, to face the kids who ripped his stuff. He couldn't sleep, he didn't dare to.
Tommy would get dragged off again if he did.
Yet as he sat there in the bed, he felt his eyelids shut.
The next day, it was his second day of school. That didn't make sense. Why didn't that make sense?
It was his first day, he woke up to the first day, but it wasn't his first day. As he strolled through the hallways of the hellhole, the kids instead of laughing or looking at him in pity stared in terror.
They scurried away from him, much to Tommy's confusion.
There was one single sticky note left on his desk though as he went to sit down, one with the familiar scrawl of the ringleader. The one who organized the attacks against Tommy at school, the way it's been for years.
‘srry for hurting u don’t hurt me again’
It made sense now as Tommy remembered one vague thing from the past.
"I did kickboxing... Now take out two fingers, place them in front of you."
Techno was still with him. Tommy didn't like that as much as he thought he would.
Tommy finally had a friend. He finally had a friend who could give him wings, from the sidelines.
So why did it feel so wrong? Why did it feel so cold? Why did he want to go back.
He hated Wilbur and Phil, but he hated Techno even more at this moment.
Opening the desk, he saw a small note folded to perfection. Unraveling it he saw running writing which spelled out one thing.
"I will protect you :)"