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Parents are supposed to love their kids. Tolerate them at the very least. Tommy has never had enough luck to afford the luxury of parental affection.
Neglect– as much as Tommy abhors the term, it’s what it is– has lasting detrimental effects on a child. Tommy, personally, thinks the lasting detrimental effects are a scary title for things like knowing how to cook at a really young age– bonus of really cool scars from when he had first tried to cook by himself– and a crippling fear of commitment.
Along with the commitment issues comes the strange pairing of attachment issues with a small side of separation anxiety. It’s unfortunate, but at the age of fifteen, Tommy’s got it handled. He doesn’t need anyone, because if he had something to cling onto he’d be unbearably annoying and it’d crush him when they left.
Tommy thinks he has it handled, but after a particularly long business trip, his parents come home with great news. They’re moving. It’s great, not at all like Tommy had grown up within these walls. Found solace in the way the silence echos when he’s alone here. It’s fucking fantastic.
At the age of fifteen, Tommy’s life starts to fall apart. Further than it already was, of course. Even when you think the mirror is fully shattered, someone’s hammer can always do more damage.
He packs away everything and wonders if dying would just be easier. Tommy knows dying would have been easier. His parents lived with him, but they didn’t live with him. They were done packing in a day tops, it took Tommy three days.
He just barely found the time to jam all of his things into the back of the moving truck his parents had rented before they left and forgot they had a son. The ride was shitty, far too quiet for three people.
The house was emptier than Tommy, which was to be expected. He had organs and they had just moved. He didn’t unpack anything the first night, he didn’t even set up his bed. He just sat in the corner and cried numbly. He didn’t make a noise, another detrimental effect .
It was normal at first. Just a house, two hours away from everything he had known. Tommy didn’t bother decorating his room. Nothing felt permanent anyway, he didn’t want to waste his energy on something so pointless.
His parents only stayed for two days before leaving again, not even bothering to say goodbye. His mother did leave a note along with some money for groceries, which was… nice. Tommy had no clue where the nearest store was, he hadn’t left the house.
It was still summer, so at least he didn’t have to worry about school, At the very least, he wasn’t interacting with his peers. Things weren’t the best, but they were good.
Then the noise in the attic started. Tommy thought it was rodents at first. Squirrels, chipmunks, rats, you know the average infestation. The thing was, chipmunks didn’t step as heavily as humans. Squirrels didn’t have human vocal cords for midnight conversations. Rats couldn’t break the silence by whispering his name.
Tommy had no clue where his parents were. Tommy didn’t even have a phone. He had no way to contact his parents, no way to get help unless he wanted to try his luck with the neighbours he had yet to meet.
And there was something, someone, living in his house with him.
Only issue was Tommy was never able to see the thing. As far as he’s aware, which may not be very far but it still counts for something, hallucinating is not a detrimental effect , So the thing, person, is real, even if he has yet to see it.
He develops a routine around it, stays up at night to hear it talk, naps during the day when it’s quiet. Tommy doesn’t try to interact, that’s above his paygrade.
At the age of fifteen, Tommy settles in with his roommate. He knows he should get help, it isn’t normal. It’s just so nice to have someone be home again.
Time passes, as it so often does and summer passes. School starts and Tommy finds less and less time to listen to the thing talk at night.
It begins speaking when he gets home in the afternoon instead. He can never remember what it talks about when it finally quiets, but it’s strangely comforting.
His parents come back less and less and April comes so fast. He skips school on his birthday, plans made in advance.
Tommy wakes up April ninth and opens the door to the attic. He takes a steep slope of stairs up and keeps his eyes closed until he finds the light. He’d hate to ruin the surprise.
At the age of sixteen, Tommy meets his roommate. Covered head to toe in blood, clutching the hollow corpse of a woman. A neighbour of his, he realizes belatedly. He hadn’t even really seen her except for the few time he was coming home and she was taking out the trash. She’d say hi to him sometimes.
She was probably nice.
He doesn’t cower, he waves to the thing. It smiles wildly at him, viscous red liquid dripping past its dangerously sharp teeth. “It’s my birthday,” He says and the thing nods vigorously. It kind of looks human if he looks past the thick blanket of blood coating it. There’s a mop of red-stained blond hair and piercing blue eyes gaze into his soul. “Would you like to celebrate it with me?” He asks not taking his eyes off of its face.
He’s never actually had a birthday party, and he’s pretty sure you can’t have a party with just two… people. It’d be nice nonetheless. It nods, dropping the body to the ground and walking swiftly towards Tommy, who is oddly relaxed.
“I’m Tommy,” he says and the thing nods knowingly, because of course it’d know. They’ve been living together for almost a year. Something moves slightly behind the thing and Tommy’s eyes dart to catch sight of giant black wings that he was unable to see in the darkness before. Tommy smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, officially.”
The thing smiles and it’s all teeth, bloody and sharp. “Philza,” It says although its mouth doesn’t really move as the word fills the empty air. Tommy nods and commits the name to memory.
Philza’s still bloody as Tommy guides him down the stairs to the living room, but it’s not like his parents are around to bitch about the stains. It’d probably be nice to offer the thing, Philza, a shower. But honestly, you make your bed, you lay in it. Who is Philza to murder someone in Tommy’s house on his birthday? It’s rude, truly.
Tommy turns to look at it– him?– and smiles awkwardly. “I don’t- I’ve never had a birthday party before,” He says because he had planned to confront his roommate but he didn’t have anything planned after that. Tommy kinda assumed that Philza might have just eaten him whole as soon as he invaded its space.
What do you even do for birthdays? Cake? He should have bought a fucking cake. Tommy doesn’t get time to scold himself for his lack of preparation when Philza’s hands come up to his face, cupping his cheek softly. Claws extend from the tips of Philza’s otherwise normal hands and blood smears across Tommy’s face.
For a moment Tommy’s stomach churns at the thought of this random creature in his house– touching him– with his neighbour’s blood dripping from its form. The thought doesn’t last long as their eyes meet. “I have a gift for you,” it speaks, mouth unmoving still. Philza’s other hand reaches into the pocket of his dark green robes.
Philza presses something into Tommy’s hands while keeping its hand on his face. Tommy has to break the hold to look down, but as soon as he does, he can tell what the gift is. Three bloody teeth sit in the palm of his hand.
It’s not exactly the best birthday gift, but it’s the first in a very long time so Tommy smiles. “Thank you,” he says, clutching the teeth. He can feel them pressing into his palm but it draws his mind away from where they came from.
It’s not a convenient birthday, but at the age of sixteen as Philza smiles sharply he knows it’s going to be one to remember.