Work Text:
Home was a word that Tommy never really liked. It was always a lie in some sense, a joke. When home time was called everyone rushed out of the classroom with giddy smiles and swinging arms. He however never left his chair, continuing to work on whatever was handed to him. It was routine now, but maybe that was the problem.
“Need help Tommy?” Sam said from the front of the room, looking over as he wiped off the chalkboard. Tommy shakes his head, the math in front of him swirling together. He didn’t understand any of it. “Okay, just call if you need me.” He hummed, showing that he was heard as he rested his head in his palm.
He thinks it’s weird how he was the only kid left behind in the classroom. That his parents weren’t waiting out at the front to bring him home. But when he asks about it, about why Phil doesn’t pick him up all the time and when he does it’s thirty minutes late. All he got was twin glances and lies. That “Dads just busy.” Or “He had work.” Lies, he thinks, is his life.
The clock ticks on as he pretends to do his work. Sam ignores the fact his pencil has never once been grabbed between his fingers. Continuing on whatever middle school teachers do after school. Tommy doesn’t know how long he’s sat there, staring at equations and stupid fractions. But sometime during it he must have fallen asleep because Sam’s suddenly in front of him, shaking his shoulder softly.
“Come on buddy, time to go home.” Tommy blinks groggily at his teacher before nodding, gathering all of his stuff in his hands before shoving it in his bag. He doesn’t miss the wince Sam does at seeing him crinkle up the paper. He holds back a chuckle as he stands up, following the older man out of the classroom.
The halls were covered with math problems and multiplication tables. The walls were painted a light blue, like the sky. Tommy always liked the colour, it reminded him of a lot of things. “Who’s picking me up?” He asks, peering up at Sam.
Sam just shrugs, scratching behind his neck as he looks down at him. “I just got the call from the office saying someone was here for you, sorry buddy.” Tommy just nods, choosing to take it in stride. There’s a one out of three percent chance that it’s his dad, that’s kinda good. Right? Is he even doing the math right? Fractions, he thinks. One out of three, that’s it.
The front doors come faster than he would have liked. Big grey double doors with a push bar. Sam leads him right to it, opening it for him. Tommy has to shut his eyes for a second, the setting sun getting in his view. For a moment he thinks of never opening them again, pretending that his dad was standing there in front of him. Waiting for him with open arms and a huge smile on his face.
He would have just gotten back from work, asked if he wanted ice cream before they head home like he has done time and time before. He would let Tommy play with the radio, chuckling when he puts on the Able Sisters. He has big blue eyes, blonde hair and stubble across his chin. He would look like his dad one day. “One out of three.” He whispers, opening his eyes.
The fantasy crumbles instantly when he sees pink dyed hair, brown eyes and a high school uniform. Techno spots him from the gate, raising one of his hands in a mini wave. It’s almost painful to see the other standing there instead of Phil. It was wrong, deceitful. “Hey Theseus.” Techno greets when he gets close enough, a small smile on the teens face.
“Hey Blade.” He matches the nickname, the word like poison on his tongue. He was supposed to say dad today, they promised him he would. Liars.
“I’ll see you on Monday then.” Sam says from behind him, the gate opening a bit for him. “Remember the homework Tommy.” He nods, watching as his teacher heads back inside the school. He stays there for a few seconds, just watching. He knew he wouldn’t turn around to Phil, that he wasn’t here to get him. But maybe if he doesn’t face his brother he can pretend.
He doesn’t get much past that thought as his hand is grabbed and he’s being dragged behind Techno. Tommy hurries a bit, matching the others pace. He looks down at there intertwined fingers, wondering if Phil was even home right now. “Dad was supposed to pick me up today.” He says, looking over at the other's face.
Techno frowns a bit, eyes looking devoid of thoughts, before returning to a much more fake smile. Probably the voices, he thinks. He’s had them explained to him before but he never really understood. “Something came up.” He says simply, like that would get rid of the pit in Tommy’s stomach. “Plus now you get to walk with me.” He squeezes his hand, some form of comfort being passed.
“You walked me home Wednesday.” Tommy points out, looking away from him and towards the sidewalk ahead of them. He makes sure to step on every line in the concrete he could. His dad deserved the bad luck after all, for forgetting about him. “And on Monday.” He adds.
“So you're sick of me then?” Techno tries to joke, turning the corner.
“Yes.” He says instantly, not afraid to speak his mind. There’s quiet after that and he accepts it. Tommy doesn’t think once to break it. They walk in this Suffocating silence until around half way home, when instead of crossing the road Techno takes a right. He stays quiet for a few moments more, wondering if the other was going to realize his mistake.
When he doesn’t Tommy pulls on his hand. He’s quick to get Techno’s attention, him slowing down until they stop. “What is it?” He asks, looking at him questionably.
Which wasn’t supposed to be his look, it’s supposed to be Tommy’s. “Homes that way idiot.” He’s quick to point in the direction of home.
Techno rolls his eyes, turning back around and heading in this new direction. “I know.” He huffs, tugging him forward. “But the ice cream shop is this way.”
“We’re going for ice cream!?” He shouts, speeding up in his steps. “Really!?” Techno just chuckles, not answering his yells as he continues down the road. He grips Techno’s hand tighter as they walk, bouncing as they go. His brother doesn’t seem to mind getting his arm pulled on as they make it to the ice cream shop.
Techno opens the door for them, letting go of his hand. “Go look at the selections.” He says, plunging him forward into the empty line. No one was here yet, the place completely empty. Tommy likes to think it’s because this place was made for them but in actuality it might be because this is the most expensive place to get ice cream.
Tommy runs over to the glass, peering in at all the different colours of ice cream. He already knew what he wanted to get, having gotten the same thing time and time before. But it was about the routine of peering in that made buying ice cream here fun. Even if it was the same in every other shop, Tommy didn’t care. “What do you want?” Techno says, peering over him to look at the selections.
“You know already!” He says, pointing to the one in the corner. “Cotton candy.” He states proudly, bouncing on his toes. Techno hums, walking over to the cashier. He ignores the conversation as he turns and speed walks over to the corner booth, right near the back window. He slides into the red seats, leaning on the table as he looks outside at the buzzing street.
Wilbur had taken the three of them here many times before, usually on the weekends that dad had to work late and couldn’t make it home for movie night. He always got cotton candy, Wilbur getting something with chocolate as Techno seemed to try the weirder options. Like the fruity ones that hardly count as ice cream. Phil, when he joined them, got boring vanilla most of the time.
Tommy tapped his fingers on the table, wondering if his dad would be there for movie night tomorrow. They were going to watch Jurassic World in the theatres, with fatty popcorn slathered in butter and large pops for each of them. If he was lucky he could even get one of his brothers to buy him a stuffed dinosaur.
He stops thinking about the movie tomorrow when a cone gets shoved in his face. He grabs it, looking up as Techno slides into the seat across from him. He had a strawberry cone with what looks to be raspberry’s spread on top of it. “Don’t get your hands all sticky.” The other warns, setting down a few napkins in front of the two.
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that. “Techno.” He starts, a grand smile on his face. “When have I ever gotten ice cream on my fingers? The great Tommy does no such thing-“
“Two weeks ago you dropped the whole cone on your foot and grabbed it with your hand.” Techno interrupts, a smirk on his face.
“That was intentional so it doesn’t count.” He states, taking a bite out of his desert and feeling great pride in watching Techno grimace. Techno however digs in too, licking his cone as he pulls out his phone. Checking something. Tommy ignores the older much boring teenager as he goes back to staring out the window.
By the time he finishes Techno’s only half done, taking way too long for one scoop of ice cream. It was a disgrace against sweets. They're supposed to be eaten like you're a starving man. That’s how you show your love for them. “Hurry up! I wanna go check in with Ranboo and Tubbo on Minecraft!” He whines, pushing the cone towards the older boy's face.
Techno grumbles something as he takes another lick, going back to his phone. “You play with them everyday, they can wait a few more minutes.” He says, looking up from his screen. “I’m checking something important.”
He rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat. “What’s more important than Minecraft with the boys?” He questions himself, then gasps as his eyes widen. “Are you texting a girl-“
“No.” Techno cuts him off, face screwed up. “Why would I be texting a girl?” He then adds, like the thought itself was something confusing.
“Because that’s what teenagers do, I learned that in health class yesterday.” He says matter of factly, nodding to himself to prove the point. “When I get a phone I’m going to have so many wives I’m going to be texting non-stop.”
“You're twelve, calm down on the wives thing.” Techno chuckles, shaking his head. “And for your information I’m checking when the next spelling bee is happening so I can study.” Tommy groans, flopping his body onto the table.
“You're so boring.” He complains, practically feeling his brother's eye roll.
“And you're insufferable.” The other complains back.
Tommy smiles, sticking out his tongue. “That does nothing to me, I don’t know what insufferable means.” Techno just huffs, turning his phone off. When the other finally finishes his ice cream and shoves his phone back into his pocket Tommy lets out a victorious huff. He grabs his brother's hand, pulling him out of the shop and back towards the house.
It feels like Techno’s putting some weight on his heels as he’s dragged along, but he doesn’t mention it. It’s probably some weird teenager thing that Tommy doesn’t understand. The walk back is however much slower, even the light seems to not want Tommy to get home and play Minecraft with his online friends. They get there before hours have passed though, so he can’t be that mad.
“Come on!” Tommy yell’s, running up the steps to the house. He turns to see Techno fishing the keys out of his pocket, joining him on the porch. The other fiddles with it for too long, but eventually he gets the right one and shoves it into the lock. When Techno unlocks the door and lets him inside he immediately knows something is wrong.
It smells bad in the house, the lights were off and there were hushed yells from somewhere deeper down the halls. He looks up to Techno, who seemed to have noticed it at the same time as he has. The other suddenly looks exhausted, like he didn’t want to believe the house seemed the way it did.
“We’re back!” He calls loudly, the whispers shutting up almost immediately. Tommy can’t help but frown, scrunching up his nose at the very strong metallic smell ringing out through the house. “Tommy, go to your room for a bit.” Techno then says, pushing his back towards the stairs. With shoes, backpacks and all.
He pushes the other’s hands away, narrowing his eyes on the dark hallway. Something about it was wrong, the now quiet was calling him forward. “Dad?” He calls, moving before Techno could stop him. He runs down the hall, knowing deep in his gut that Phil was here somewhere. They were hiding him, he was hiding from him.
Tommy wasn’t going to ignore the pit of want in his stomach as he ran down the hall. Techno’s yells are drifting away from him as he slams open the kitchen doors, head whipping from side to side until they land on Phil and Wilbur. And for a split second he smiles, because Phil is there and he’s with him. A hole somewhere deep in his chest exploded with happiness.
Then like a waterfall it’s washed away and left with thundering falls as Tommy takes in the room in front of him. He’s speechless, eyes roaming bloody floors and surfaces, garbage bags filled with the unknown. He can only guess what happened here. When he looks up into brown and blue eyes he’s met with tears and nothing.
Wilbur was crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as a splotch of blood stained the tips of his fingers. His lips didn’t waver however, instead casted downwards with his brows. He was clearly angry, pissed even. He’s seen the other mad enough to know when to steer clear of his brothers soon to be rath. It didn’t bother him as much as his dad did however, not nearly as much.
Phil’s eyes were like voids, nothing but calculations behind them. He was stone faced, hands clutching a bloody knife with plastic gloves. His once storming ocean blue eyes were now a calming obiss. It was almost inhuman. That wasn’t his dad standing on the other side of the kitchen island, he refuses to believe it was.
He takes a shaky step back, time moving once more as his breath catches in his throat. He hits something hard and immediately knows it’s Techno who’s standing behind him. The other two snap their heads over to him. Wilbur’s lips parted in surprise, like he was going to say something. Phil’s numbness seemed to fade within seconds of his eyes landing on him. A disappointed-like gaze moving upwards. “I said to keep him busy.” He says simply.
Techno’s hands find their way to his shoulders, tightening around them ever so softly. “I did.” He hears the other snap from above him. “You were supposed to be cleaned up by now.” Phil makes a tsk sound as he sets the bloody knife on the counter.
He then sighs, turning his attention to Wilbur. “I’ll finish up here, you two take your brother upstairs.” Wilbur moves without a word, dropping the bag he was holding to the floor with a loud wet thud. He then heads over to them, eyes going everywhere but to him. Tommy does nothing as he watches Phil move about the kitchen, ignoring him again. He thinks he’s shocked, stunned?
He can’t move from his position, eyes locked on to the knife. He feels his stomach groan, the ice cream he had doing nothing to help the feeling. “…What the fuck.” He breathes, Wilbur pausing in his steps towards him. Finally, finally does Phil and Wilbur actually look at him. They both look sad, but he thinks it’s for different reasons. “What the fuck!?” He shouts, shoving Techno’s hands off him as he forces himself into the hall.
All three of them are in front of him now, all staring at him. “Tommy, calm down.” Wilbur says shakily, hands raising. He takes a step forward, a smile on his face. It’s fake, he knows it is. “Let’s just go to your room, yea? You can tell me about your day and-“
“Don’t come closer!” He yells, body shaking. “Y-you, what… What the hell did you guys do!?” The kitchen was bloody, there were garbage bags and they were acting like that was normal. This wasn’t normal! It looks like someone was murdered here, it looks like a crime scene. Before they could say anything Tommy talks again, voice rough. “…Did you hurt someone?”
The silence was louder than a thousand thunderstorms. Louder than the pounding in his chest, louder than the school's bell on repeat. That was the only answer he needed as Tommy took off. He could see from the corner of his eye both his brothers move to get him until they realized he was going to his room. Then they let him. Cowereds.
Tommy thundered up the stairs, not caring for dad's rules of not running in the house. He pushes his door open and slams it shut, throwing his backpack into the corner. The room twists and turns around him, panic washing over him like a dam broke. Tommy whipped open his closet and moved his shirts away, making a room for himself to sit down. He closes it, flooding the small tight space with darkness.
He covers his mouth, not trusting his roaring gut not to paint his shirts with vomit. He wanted to believe it was all a joke, that someone wasn’t in those bags in piece’s. But the look in his dad's eyes, the voids of stone he couldn’t see through, sealed their fates. His family were murders, or at least two of them were, Techno was definitely an accomplice. Tommy shut his eyes, beginning to rock back and forth.
This couldn’t be happening, this couldn’t.
“Great job Techno, for distracting him.” Wilbur seethes, waving his hands towards the stairs. Techno whirls around on the other, eyes wide. He has half the thought to punch the other for that, but he reel’s his emotions in. This wasn’t the time for that, not at all.
“Maybe if you stopped being a complete idiot, I wouldn’t have to in the first place!” He yells, walking past the other. Wilbur scoffs, running his hands through his hair. Phil was leaning against the counter, looking at the chaos unfolding in front of him. “Don’t you have any nasty comments to spit, old man?” He practically growls.
Phil sighs, rubbing at his temples. Luckily he had taken his gloves off, or else that would have been disgusting. “He had to find out eventually.” He drawls, like finding out your family were complete freaks of nature was something everyone goes through. “He knows about your voices, how is this any different?”
Techno feels back at that. Any different!? Does he hear himself? “Having voices in your head yelling at you to beat the crap out of people is totally different then killing criminals for your fun past time!” He yells, slamming his hands on the kitchen island. “You do realize what you two have done, don’t you?”
“We killed a man who’s been assaulting people for years now without conviction.” Wilbur states blankly, his smile having fallen the moment Tommy was out of view. It was almost convening lately, that the other man could show emotions. Tommy bought all their crap, that Wilbur was an emotional person ready to bust and that their father was a lovely working man.
It was all crap at the end of the day. The only emotions Wilbur ever seemed to show was when he was hurting others with his twisted dramatics, while he was killing or being yelled at by Phil. Which was why he probably had the tear tracks now, the guy was probably getting yelled at. It was him after all who invited the man into their house for a drink, only to tie him to a chair and, well…
Their father, sadly, wasn’t any better. He wasn’t emotionally constipated, which was worse in Techno’s opinion. Phil could kill a woman and look like he didn’t care, only to take them all out to bowling hours later with a smile on his face. “He’s not going to forgive us.” He says, looking at the two. That finally seemed to strike a cord as Wilbur frowns, Phil snapping his head over to him.
Phil sighs, moving his hands up to crack his knuckles. “You did.” He replies simply.
Dadza is right!
He’s literally your dad, what were we supposed to do?
He invited us to kill, if that isn’t crazy I don’t know what is.
He’s trying, you can’t blame Phil for this!
“I was a child.” He whispers, remembering the first time he walked in on Wilbur and Phil. He was eleven, coming home early from school. No one had picked him up of course so he walked home alone. He walked in on his father dismembering someone. That wasn’t something he ever wanted to relive. “I didn’t know better.” He adds, taking a deep breath in. He would say there was more, that he was scared of his family more than he felt the need to run away. But he has the feeling they already know that.
“Tommy will get over it.” Wilbur says, walking over. He slings his arm over his shoulders, frown still plastered on his face. Then like a switch went off he smiles, something much brighter than the sun. It looks natural, so very perfect. Techno can’t help but grimace. Wilbur sees this, instantly dropping the look. “We’re his family, Tech. He has nowhere else to go, and even if he did no one would love him like us.”
The no one would kill for him like we would went unsaid. He shuddered, not daring to move from his brothers ‘embrace’. “Techno.” Phil calls, forcing him to look back over at the man. His blue eyes are like a disease, telling of a loving man when in reality he’s a killer macerating as one. “I’m sorry, I know you don’t like… all this.” He gestures around the room. He doesn’t dare follow his hand to look.
“Can you check up on Tommy? Explain the situation to him? Me and Wilbur will finish this up in no time.” He nods, not wasting any time as he moves from Wilbur’s side and out the kitchen. His hand immediately fell to his stomach. He felt like throwing up. He shook his head and marched up the stairs. He quickly gets to his little brother's door, gaze turning towards it. Techno takes a deep breath in and opens the door, body stiffening the second he did.
The window was open, Tommy halfway out it. The other was staring wide eyed at him, tear tracks running down his cheeks. The closet smelt worse than downstairs, so he can only imagine what had happened in there. He always had a better stomach than the younger. “Techno-“
“Shut it.” He snaps quietly. He storms forward towards the other, hand going into his pocket. Tommy flinches at the tone, eyes watering once more. Before the other could try to explain himself Techno pushes his hand into the others. “Use cash only, cards can be tracked. Don’t go to homeless shelters, that’s the first place they would look. Take the farthest bus from here if you can-“
“Wa-what?” Tommy squeaks out. Techno takes a second to calm his nerves, hand reaching up to brush the blond curls from his brother's eyes.
“Get to the city over, the second you find a police station there, give them my ID and say Phil had been hitting us and that he won’t let me leave the house. Claim abuse, anything to get them here and to keep you away.” He whisper’s, watching as Tommy starts to understand what he’s doing. “Don’t look back.”
“…Why don’t you come with me?” He breathes, hands clutching around his wallet. “We can go together, right now.” His voice was shaking, cracking at the end. He can relate, sadly.
He snorts, ruffling the kids' heads. “Someone needs to give you time Theseus, to make sure you don’t fall. And… I can’t go further than my high school.” He sniffles, tears running down his own cheeks. “Tracking device.” He says simply, ignoring the horrified look the other sends him. “Promise me you’ll not look back?” He asks, hopeful.
Tommy shakes his head, tears freely falling between them. “Not until you're with me.” He whispers back. He couldn’t help the wet laugh that leaves him then, patting the other on the shoulder. “I’ll be back for you.”
“I’m sure you will.” He nods along, nudging the other out the window. “Now go, I can give you an hour's head start.” Tommy nods shakily as he climbs out the window, scaling down the side of the house with the practised ease of a preteen sneaking out in the middle of the night. Tommy looks up then, then over towards the road. He goes to say something, but before he could a voice breaks their silence.
“How’s Tommy!?” Wilbur yells from downstairs, causing the both of them to freeze.
“Go.” He whispers, closing the window before the other could reply. Techno turns his back on him as he leaves the room, closing the door behind himself. He quickly wipes at his eyes, trying to look presentable. He then walks over to the stairs, seeing Wilbur at the bottom. “He told me to fuck off.” He lies, heading down the steps. “Just give him some time, he’ll get used to it.”
The lie was toxic on his tongue, almost making him want to gag. Wilbur hums however, satisfied. He throws his arm over his shoulder as he steers them towards the living room. “See, I told you! Just like you, Tech. He’ll understand that what we’re doing is justified.” He nods shakily.
“Yea… justified.” Techno agrees, internally wishing upon everything that Tommy doesn’t look back, not once.