Chapter Text
everything is temporary. tommy knows that. tommy, out of all people, should know that. he knows that the longest time he stayed at a foster home was only 219 days and the shortest, was four. one where he could barely unpack anything, and the other, he unpacked too much.
he stared out the window. his mind was wandering, but his eyes kept still on the house out the window. the car was parked on the curb of a cozy-looking house. it had a deck, like most houses do, with... furniture?
wouldn’t that just get stolen? wow, this family has a lot of trust in their neighbors.
the house wasn’t huge. it was two stories with a basement and possibly an attic. would it be considered four stories then? it was white with accents of some sort of navy blue. it was obvious it was painted over. there were cracks here and there as well as paint chipping away at the crevices. there was a single car parked in the driveway obviously made for two vehicles.
tommy counted the windows, the doors, and every possible escape route. he couldn’t afford to take any more chances. there was a window with roof access. he hoped that would be his room.
the car had stopped running and the driver-side door opened, forcing the already quiet radio to cease.
“are you just gonna sit there or can we go in?” sam had asked with slight annoyance but mostly lightheartedness.
sam was tommy’s social worker. a sweet guy with an actual sense of humor, that was rare for people his age these days, as well as tommy’s many past social workers. they were all old, wrinkly, and they always had hard candy for tommy when he would be brought back to them. sam had gotten out of college a few years ago. he moved into an apartment with his partner and got to have the job of his dreams. he was surely living his best life. then he got stuck with tommy.
tommy pursed his lips, actually considering just staying there. he was about to take sam’s suggestion and ask for the keys back to start the car. he looked to the front to find sam’s hand flailing in the air.
is he waving? yeah he is. at who? oh.
tommy knew who. well not necessarily who but he had a general idea. he looked back toward the house to see another man standing in the window next to the front door. he was short, so much so tommy would have mistaken him for a child if he hadn’t seen his face. he wore a plain black t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants. he held a mug in his left hand while he returned sam’s gesticulation with his right. it was obvious he hadn’t left the house for the day yet.
he could have at least tried to be a little more formal meeting his future foster son. he could have at least tried to make a good first impression, but so could have tommy.
he looked down at his own outfit. he wore a pair of blue jeans, with a red hoodie, paired with his signature blue winter coat. he could have at least tried to be a little more formal meeting his future foster father. at least he wasn’t wearing sweatpants, though.
the man in the window seemed kind, but they all do. sam tapped on the passenger side window with his pointer finger as he waved for tommy to follow him. he started walking up the driveway, making his way to the wood porch. tommy didn’t budge. sam paused in the middle of the driveway when he didn’t hear the car door make the sound of opening and then shutting with a slam. he waved for tommy again, this time with more urgency.
why can’t i just stay with sam? he’s an adult. he’s responsible enough. i’ve been spending more time with him recently. sure he has his roommate, ponk, and their apartment is already pretty small for the both of them, but i wouldn’t be a burden. i can sleep on the couch. i can make my food. i can sit on the floor to not take up any space. anything, but be put in another house with people who don’t care enough just to be returned like a broken toy or a too-small pair of pants from walmart. too much back and forth. i hate this .
a heavy sigh escaped tommy’s lips. he caved. he grabbed the book bag from the ground by his feet and the cracked cell phone that sat in the cupholder. it wasn’t much, but it was what he had. the outfit he was wearing was the nicest one he had. he didn’t own any suit or anything formal for that matter because, why would he need any of that in the first place? his bag consisted of necessities. extra clothes, a toothbrush, deodorant, a comb, a charger, and a pair of wired headphones. he stuffed the phone in the back pocket of his pants while he swung the car door open. his feet landed in soft mud, making the sides of his white sneakers a brown-ish color. he grimaced slightly at the look of the slosh-covered yard, but continued on. he caught up to sam, leaving a trail of muddy footprints on the concrete sidewalk. they made their way up to the doorstep.
tommy didn’t know what to feel. excitement? anxiety? anger? dread? disgust? it had felt like a mix of all of them. a feeling of deja vu made his stomach churn.
he has lived this many times before. too many times before.
sam didn’t even have to knock. the door opened itself, revealing a warm smile from the man in the window.
“sam! mate! it’s been forever.” the man that was in the window a few seconds ago spoke, sticking an arm out for the other to shake.
“ahh, phil! it’s been so long!” the other exclaimed, returning the gesture. “how are you?” the man, who was now known to tommy as ‘phil’ had asked.
“i’m doing amazing! i absolutely love working and i give you all the credit.” sam chimed.
“oh, mate, you did this all yourself. i was just a mere push to get you going.”
“don’t say that, i owe everything to you.” sam joked. “but seriously, how are you? how’re the kids?”
“oh, they are barely kids anymore!. techno’s currently studying english in college and wilbur is already a senior in high school.”
“you’re kidding me.”
“i swear i’m not! you have to stop by for dinner sometime and see them again.”
“oh, you know i will.” tommy didn’t know this guy, but sam so clearly did.
“how’s ponk doing?” phil asked after a moment of comfortable silence.
“oh they’re doing great.”
the conversation slowed as the pair glanced at tommy. wide grins faltering into warm smiles. sam puts a reassuring hand on tommy’s shoulder, slightly pushing him forward.
“phil, this is tommy. tommy, this is phil.” sam said, gesticulating between the two. “we were old college friends.”
“yup! sam was a little ol’ freshman when i was taking my eighth year. i was sorta kinda his mentor.”
“i owe it all to phil for getting this job and being able to meet you, toms.” sam beamed, giving tommy a grin.
tommy stayed neutral. the whirlwind of feelings was still present. he felt overwhelmed with all this chatting he felt it wasn’t his place to chime in with gestures he couldn’t return.
“we both majored in psychology. we met during a course and immediately hit it off.” phil explained. “sam, obviously, got the job of a social worker and i work as a guidance counselor at the local high school.”
tommy didn’t dare say a word.
say something. they’re looking at you. SAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING. SPEAK. WORDS PLEASE .
“well it’s nice to meet you tommy.” phil drawled. he put out a hand for the other to shake, but tommy was frozen in his own train of thought. he quickly regained focus to shake the others hand. he didn’t want to seem like a total prick in front of the man that was kind enough to open his home to tommy without thinking twice. tommy imagined that phil got sam’s call, heard the words,
‘i have this completely fucked up child here who-‘ and immediately said yes. phil seemed like that kind of person. tommy hoped that he was that kind of person. god, but what if he isn’t?
“why don’t you two come inside? it’s pretty chilly out there.” phil blurted while he wrapped his arms across his chest, shivering slightly.
the man from the window took a drop-step back, revealing the interior of the house tommy was glaring at from afar just moments ago. tommy felt an odd warmness ooze into his soul as he stalked into the coziness of the front room, forcing himself not to stray from sam’s side. this was a feeling tommy had forgotten he felt before. he felt a slight tingling on his open skin once the early november chill swiftly transitioned to the toasty embrace of a fireplace. the faint smell of pumpkin spice and pine filled his lungs. he could get high off of the scents and, oh how he wanted to. he wasn’t used to this; houses smelling of freshly baked pumpkin pies, a fireplace engulfing the bitter air threatening to take over, a living room with a flat-screen, a house with more than one story, and furniture on the fucking porch for god's sake.
oh, how i’m gonna enjoy this.
phil led the two past what tommy assumed to be the living room with the flatscreen, the fireplace, a glass coffee table, and two beige linen pieces of furniture; one a loveseat and the other a long sofa with an ottoman, into the kitchen. he gestured for them to sit on barstools at a marble island.
“would you two like anything to drink?” phil had asked, walking briskly around the island towards the-
wait does that fridge have two doors? damn, how rich are these people?
“water would be fine for me, thank you.” sam replied.
“no problem. coming right up!” phil opened one of the grey cupboards over the marble countertop. he pulled out two crystallized glasses, setting one on the counter and taking one back over to the refrigerator. there was a contraption on the door. phil pressed some buttons and crushed ice came out of a dispenser. seconds later, so did water. he slid the glass over to sam then grabbed the second glass.
“and how about you tommy?” phil inquired, twirling the glass between his fingers.
“just water please.” those were the first words spoken by tommy since he had woken up this morning.
phil went through the same routine with the weird thingy on the refrigerator door. he then pulled a barstool to the other side of the island, now facing the other two head-on.
“let’s get started, shall we?” sam stated once everyone was settled, shifting as he took a sip of the crystallized water.
this was tommy’s least favorite part. it was boring. it was mostly just the adults mumbling with serious looks and piles upon piles of paperwork. tommy didn’t get to speak, he didn’t get to ask the questions, he didn’t even get to have his opinion heard. tommy always thought,
what if i don’t want to be here?
but it was never his place to say so. it was always up to the people who wouldn’t have to live with it. with tommy’s old social workers he would think they didn’t even care enough and just wanted to get out of there as fast as they could, merely being the fisherman to lower the bait. it was different with sam. the appointments were always longer, filled with actual dialogue from tommy. letting tommy answer the questions meant to be answered by him, letting tommy ask some questions of his own, letting tommy be the one to make the final decision. he always agreed to stay, though. he didn’t want to find out what would happen if he didn’t.
after what seemed like an eternity of questions, hearing the same spiel sam gives every single time not daring to change one word, and the constant scraping of pen against paper, tommy knew it was finally over.
“i think it’s settled then.” sam sighed, right on cue. the older gathered a myriad of papers and stuffed them sloppily into his satchel.
he left his glass on the island as he scooted off of the stool, cracking his back once his socked feet touched tile. he made his way towards phil still sitting in the chair across the island and patted him on the back, leaning in the whisper something inaudible to tommy in his ear. phil only nodded in response.
“don’t forget about our dinner plans.” sam exclaimed before he walked away.
“how do you feel about wednesday? i’ll have to check in with the boys, but that would probably be our best bet.” phil suggested.
“that sounds good to me. let me know if anything changes.”
sam makes his way towards the door. he gestures for tommy to follow.
what is he doing? this isn’t in the script he always follows .
tommy hesitates but follows nonetheless. he stares at the ground as he walks timidly. he feels embarrassed for some reason. the way he walks feels awkward when no one else is there to follow. all eyes are on him and he hates it. his breathe hitches and he hates it. then there is a hand rested on his shoulder, forcing him to peel his eyes from his feet.
“don’t take this the wrong way, but i don’t want to see you for a long time, alright?” sam whispered. “as much i love seeing you and would love to visit every day, i don’t want to be seeing you for the wrong reasons. phil is a wonderful guy and i’m hoping you two will get along. try to get along with his sons, please. if you don’t feel comfortable or anything happens, please let phil know or call me and i’ll always answer. i care for you and i hope you make good decisions.” sam pulled tommy into a hug as he rested a hand on the child's head.
tommy’s eyes well without his knowledge, forcing salty tears to fall. sam’s thumb was already there to wipe them away.
“i’ll be back soon, don’t worry.” sam said with a sad smile. he had a tendency to cry at any sight of tears.
tommy would always make sarcastic jokes about it trying to get him to cheer up.
as an empath, i can sense your inner sadness.
he only ever got sad smiles and choked giggles back. sam had no reason to be crying. if anything, he should be overjoyed right now, tommy was finally getting a good home with someone he trusted.
“don’t get into too much trouble, alright? phil, let me know if you, tommy, or anyone else needs anything. i’m one phone call away.” sam’s hand fell from tommy’s shoulder as he spoke.
another sad smile, a wave, the bitter late autumn air making its way through the opened door, the sound of a car starting then driving away, and sam was gone.