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“Toms, you’re not making any sense. You can’t go out this late, it’s dangerous.” Phil stated, arms crossed as he looked down at him.
Tommy groaned in frustration, throwing down his bag and huffing. “It’s just Tubbo’s place! Literally three blocks away. Why do you suddenly have a problem with me trying to leave?” He protested, making eye contact with his father.
He didn’t know when it got to this point, they used to be so close. Phil would bring them to a forest and they would laugh and scream into the sky, voices swallowed whole by the trees. They’d mess around in his office, frantically scrabbling out of the room when they heard his arrival back home.
Now the nights were silent, the kitchen abandoned when others would be having dinner, the living room untouched. Everyone had isolated themselves, staying in their room the entire time in the house. Which wasn't very often, for any of them.
Wilbur always had to go study, even though Tommy smelt the alcohol and cigarettes when he came back, late into the night. Techno would always be stuck at practice, coming home long after the others. Tommy, he went a bit farther. He’d stay the nights at friends houses, and the day at school. On the weekend he might come home a few times, but it would only be to grab food and a night's rest, then he would be off again.
But Phil, he was the worst of all. Weeks could go by without a glance of the man, only for him to show up in the middle of the night with a hasty apology and a too-fake smile. He’d never talk to his children long enough to realize what a bad state they were in, doctor and dentist appointments piling up as the years went by.
A few days ago, things changed. He came back with a scripted apology, as always, and They accepted it, and things went on. But this time, he stuck around, asking Tommy how his day had gone, if he had homework, and so on. It was confusing, at first, but now it’s just annoying. Especially when he tried to start up ‘rules’ in the house, which now included the fact that Tommy couldn’t sleep over at Tubbo’s anymore.
“Mate, I don’t have a problem with you trying to leave. My problem is that I'm getting no respect from you. I’m just trying to be here for you and your brothers, and in return I get this. What’s going on?” Phil said, puffing up. Did he really have the nerve to act like he deserves a medal for his parenting skills?
“You! You are what’s going on. You don’t get to leave for weeks and then come back and act like everything is fine! I am sorry that you haven’t gotten the absolute best service from your sons, do you want a refund? Maybe a gold cross for your saintliness?” Tommy was fuming, hands balled into fists beside him. This wasn’t about going to Tubbo's house anymore. This was a part of something much bigger. A storm that has brewed for years, a secret that had finally come to light.
“Jesus, Tommy, maybe an apology would be nice. I get that you had to stay at home while I was on business, but what did you actually have to do? Clean up a little more? Actually do something around the house for once?” Phil asked, looking at Tommy with something in his eyes. Tommy didn’t know, he couldn’t tell if Phil was being serious or just cruel, he didn’t know which one was worse.
“You want an apology from me? Fuck no, you are not getting shit. I had to do so much, so much more than cleaning and you know it. I am the one who deserves an apology. Wilbur, Techno, fuck, even Tubbo. They are the ones that deserve an apology.”
“Tommy, you don’t know what you’re talking about. I- I just don’t know what to do with you, honestly. No matter what I say, no matter what I do, it’s like you’re all dead set against me.” Phil says, his voice dropping as his expression darkened. Tommy feels a pang of guilt as he puts himself in Phil’s shoes. But this raging anger inside of him is all-consuming, too powerful for Phil’s comments.
“Look. It sucks that you feel that way. But you don't get to jump back into our lives and act like everything is fine! Things have changed, and they are going to stay that way. You need to recognize that, dude, or else you’re gonna keep having everyone against you.” The words come from Tommy easily, and it’s not even like he has to think before saying them. They just feel right, and finally saying them takes a weight off of him that he didn’t even know was there.
“I don’t have time for this. Nobody understands, and it feels like I don’t even live here sometimes with the way you treat me. None of you love me, and-” Phil’s voice is slowly lowering, fading into the background as Tommy stares. He’s never going to listen, is he? Tommy could be here, having a panic attack on the ground, and Phil would still be off describing all the ways he could be better. The thought makes him laugh, drawing him back to the present all too quickly as Phil snaps his head towards him.
“See! None of you care, and all you do is laugh at me. I’m fucking done with it, I’m done trying. Go to Tubbo’s, I don’t give a fuck.” And with that Phil is off, stalking off to his office and slamming the door, like a child. Tommy sighs, before grabbing his back and throwing open the door.
The night's cool air feels refreshing on his tear-streaked face, but what’s even better is Tubbo’s home. It’s warm, inviting in the way that Tommy’s once was. The other boy doesn’t even ask what happened, just slings an arm around his shoulder and drags them to the couch, where a movie and popcorn is set up.
And if Tommy cries that night, face buried into his friend’s shoulder, nobody needed to know.
(And if he returned to the house, ready to apologize, and found out Phil had left, then Tommy didn’t need him anyways.)