Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy is woken up by loud voices. Probably the several other children in the group home he was forced into after he ran away from his last family. As much as Tommy wants to just roll over, he knows he has to get up and help clean the house, even if the thought of wearing those godawful rubber gloves makes him want to cry then and there.  

But he has to. No matter how many times he screamed and fought and kicked and cried, every family, every group home forced those gloves on him. Most of them resorted to having one person sit on his legs and a second person put their knees on his chest so a third person could force the gloves on.  

Those times made me feel disgusting and trapped. He’d scream until his voice went hoarse, begging for someone, anyone , to help him.  

Only one did, and it was as the kid was leaving to a foster home. He punched the person on Tommy’s chest in the jaw before running out. The person never saw him, and Tommy was able to get up and run off to hide from all the lights and noises.  

It was weird to Tommy. Why did every place insist on these gloves? Why did every place hold him down to force them all? Why did none of them listen to his pleas and tears? Why did no one stop?  

The 15-year-old had scars around his wrists from where the gloves where tied or taped tightly around them to the point of bleeding. He had other scratch marks that would come and go near his wrists from him scratching at the ghosts of where the gloves where, aching to get the feeling away.  

Those stupid yellow rubber gloves were a punishment for him. After finding out he despised how they felt, foster and group homes would tie them on when he was bad. They never explained how he was bad or how to fix it. They just said he very bad.  

Tommy finds himself downstairs, holding a broom. No yellow gloves attached to him. He sighs, relieved. However, he knows it’s only a matter of time before the gloves are forced onto him. All he wants is for the person coming later today to not see or hear him.  

Two hours later, there’s a knock at the door. Tommy has the gloves tied into his wrists, and he’s scrubbing the same spot on the kitchen floor over and over again, thoughts too focused on the rubber digging into his skin. He wants them off, and he wants them off now.  

One of the older kids rushes over to him and rips the gloves off. Tommy scratches at his wrists immediately, hoping the pain and feeling that always lingers would go away soon.  

Moments later, the head of the house shouts his name.  

Tommy, still scratching his wrists, shuffles into her office. There a blonde man sat. Tommy stood awkwardly, confused as to where he belonged. The man just smiled and waved. Tommy kept scratching his wrists.  

“Good morning, Tommy. I’m Phil,” the man says kindly with a smile. He holds out his hand.  

“Okay,” Tommy mutters, staring at the hand, still scratching his wrists. The woman in charge gasps.  

“Thomas, you be nice. You know the rules,” she threatens. Tommy instinctively shrinks in on himself. He does not want those yellow gloves back on.  

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers. He forces himself to make eye contact and stop scratching his now raw wrists. His vision blurs and tunnels, and the light get way too bright. “I’m sorry for being rude, Phil. It was wrong of me.”  

The apology was rehearsed, drilled into his head after he didn’t call the woman (who’s name he can’t remember, not like he wants to) “ma’am” when she demanded his attention. She never said she wanted to be called ma’am, so how was he supposed to know she did?  

“It’s alright, mate. You’re just nervous, I can tell,” Phil assures him. He doesn’t try to reach out for Tommy. In fact, he seems to have moved a way a little to give the teen some room.  

“I know you said you’re looking for three foster kids, so I’ll go grab the other two. Thomas, don’t be rude,” she warns, sending him a look that’s unreadable to him. Still, he shudders.  

“So,” Phil starts, and for a second Tommy’s heart drops. He can’t do small talk. What if Phil notices and gets angry and doesn’t want him anymore? “What’s your favourite animal and your favourite fact about them?”  

Tommy perks up. Oh! He can do this with ease!  

“Moths. Without a doubt. They’re so pretty, and they look super soft. I want a moth one day. Did you know-?” Tommy stops himself. He was rambling. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to-.”  

“What’s your favourite species?” Phil interrupts, smiling still. He seems happy, like he really wants to hear about what Tommy likes.  

“Rosy maple moth. They’re pink and yellow, and I love them so much. I feel like one could be my best friend. Did you know most moths are nocturnal? Some aren’t, but most of them are. Adult rosy maple moths don’t have mouths. Most people wish I was a rosy maple moth,” Tommy rambles, playing with his fingers.  

“Here they are. Boys, introduce yourselves,” the woman says, shoving two tall teenagers into the house. The brunette with the circle glasses flinches after being touched. Tommy doesn’t recognize either of them.   

“Um, hi. I’m BITCHASS,” the brunette says quietly. The pink haired one stays silent, eyes wide in what looks to be fear.  

“Go on, introduce yourself,” the woman says, nudging the other forward. He opens his mouth to talk, but no words come out. His mouth clamps shut.  

“Well, I’m Phil. It’s nice to meet you two,” he says, holding out his hand like how he did with Tommy. BITCHASS hesitates before shaking it weakly.  

“I’m so sorry about Techno, Mr. Phillip. He’s just being rude right now,” the woman says, glaring up at the pink haired teen. He stares back, unblinking.   

After what feels like hours, the three can finally go back to Phil’s. The car ride is silent. Not even the radio played music. It was as though Phil was scared of breaking the silence.  

Finally, after what seemed like days to Tommy, they arrive at the two story house. All three were in awe. It was beautiful! Vines grew over the red brick, and dust covered most windows. There was a garden blooming with colourful flowers.  

Tommy’s first thought is to put them in his mouth.  

His second thought is concern. Why did he think that? Eating flowers isn’t normal or good for you.  

“Come on, I’ll show you to your rooms,” Phil says. All three nod and slowly climb out of the car, grabbing their own bags.  

The house opens into a main hall. To the left is a dining room, to the right is a door labeled “washroom”, and directly ahead is a living room. Phil leads the three through the living room before taking a right, leading to a door labeled “Phil” and a staircase. Once up the staircase, there are three unlabeled doors on the left wall. On the right wall is a door labeled “towels/games” and another door labeled “washroom”.  

“Who’s is who’s?” Tommy asks, breaking the uncomfortable silence. He stares at the door closest to the stairs, scratching at his wrists again.  

“This first one is yours, Tommy, the second one is BITCHASS’s, and the third one is Techno’s,” Phil explains, pointing to each one. “I’ll make the labels in a minute. Feel free to make the room however you feel comfortable. Your closets have more blankets and pillows.”  

Tommy immediately rushes into his room, closing the door behind him. A minute later he hears two more doors opening and closing.  

The room is basic enough. A full-sized bed is pressed into the top left corner, covered in tight-fighting grey sheets and a matching grey blanket. Directly to its left is an oak wood nightstand with a basic grey lamp on it. Behind the lamp is a window, covered in dust; the view is of a group of lemon and apple trees. The closet takes up all of the left wall. Besides that, it’s empty.  

Tommy immediately kicks off his shoes and rips his socks off, letting himself sink into the plush carpet. He begins happily tapping all his fingers to his thumb, starting with his index and ending with his pinkie before going back, staring with his pinkie and ending with his index. The carpet feels like heaven compared to his socks and shoes.  

After a moment, Tommy rips off the covers and blankets, leaving just the fitted sheet. He opens the closet and grabs all the blankets and pillows. Then, he starts arranging them into a sort of nest, using the two walls his bed is backed into as part of it. Once he’s done, he’s happy and thirsty.  

He freezes. Oh no. I shouldn’t have done this-. Phil’s- oh he’s gonna be so mad! I have to fix this-!  

His thoughts get cut off by a soft knock. He swallows thickly.  

“Come in,” he calls weakly, wanting to hide in the safety of his nest, away from everyone.  

“Hey Tommy. I like what you did with your bed! It looks cozy,” Phil compliments, grinning widely at him. Tommy gives a weak smile. “Lunch is ready if you want to follow me downstairs.”  

“What’s for lunch?” he asks, terrified it would be something he didn’t like, like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with high pulp orange juice. Just the thought of it makes him shudder.  

“Tell me what you’d like, and I’ll make it for you. I promise,” Phil answers. He’s still smiling, and to Tommy it looks real.  

But it can’t be. This has to be a trap of some kind. Whatever he suggests, I’ll just agree. This is a test.  

“Okay,” Tommy replies, suddenly afraid he was being rude to the man who just was feeding him and sheltering him. He does not want those horrible gloves back on.  

Phil grabs Techno and BITCHASS who both seem almost as anxious as Tommy, if not more. Techno looked angry, and BITCHASS just looked terrified, like he was going to step wrongly on a step and it’d swallow him whole. Tommy doesn’t know what he looks like, but he hopes Phil doesn’t tie the rubber gloves back on him.  

Lunch goes smoothly. Phil gets what they all want to eat and explains some house rules. Everything in the kitchen is labeled. Cabinets labeled “ plates ”, “ bowls ”, “ cups ”, drawers labeled “ silverware ”, “ baking supplies ”, “ knifes ”, all in neat cursive. Tommy peaks into the fridge to see some drawers labeled “ fruits ”, “ vegetables ”, “ meat ”, “ cheese ”.  

He’s grateful for these labels. That way if Phil needed anything, he couldn’t mess up and go into the wrong drawer or cabinet. Whatever he could do to keep Phil happy and the rubber gloves away from his arms.  

Lunch goes by as well as one could imagine with three nervous wrecks in a new home. Phil does most of the talking, telling his favourite childhood stories. Occasionally BITCHASS will ask a question or Techno will let out a quiet laugh, but mostly the teens stay silent.   

After lunch, Tommy goes back into his room, hoping for a bit of peace and quiet. Maybe he’ll unpack, show his stuffed spider, Shroud, around their new room.  

Upon opening his bag, he notices Shroud isn’t there.

Chapter Text

Tommy freaks out immediately. He’s lost Shroud, the most important stuffed animal in the world to him! His mother gave it to him. Or at least that’s what he remembers, but he was three the last time he asked where Shroud came from. He barely remembers the face of the woman, much less if she was his mother or not. Tommy likes to think she was.  

He’s tearing apart his room now, searching for the small stuffed spider. How did he lose her? Did he even bring her? Horrible thoughts like these swarm his mind.  

Eventually he resorts to sitting on the floor against his bed, balled fists pressed against his eyes to try and stop the tears. He bites his tongue so he doesn’t make any noises. Occasionally he sniffles, wanting nothing more than Shroud.  

Tommy’s not sure when he stops biting his tongue and let’s himself sob into his hands, body shaking with each violent noise. He’s too upset to care about anyone hearing him. He just wants Shroud, and he knows Shroud wants him too.  

A click comes from his left, and he shoots his head up, dropping his hands. Phil stands in the crack, waving a little.  

“Hey, mate, can I come in?” he asks. Tommy stares up at him for a second, face red from crying. He nods after a moment, looking back at his balled fists in his lap. “What’s wrong?”  

“Shroud,” Tommy manages before crying again. Phil goes to hug him, but quickly stops.  

“Can I hug you?” he asks. Tommy nods and is engulfed in a hug. He sits there for a minute, sniffling and calming down before trying to speak.  

“I- I have a stuffed spider. It’s stupid that I’m crying over it, I know,” Tommy starts, sniffling and harshly rubbing his eyes.  

“It’s not stupid. I have a stuffed animal too. She’s a pink sheep named Rosie,” Phil explains, still holding Tommy against his chest. Tommy sniffles again.   

“Her-,” he hiccups, “her name is Shroud. She squeaks, and she’s really soft and small.” Tommy accidentally lets out another sob before he’s able to cover his mouth. “I just want her back.”  

She’s all I have left of my mom.  

“We’ll find her, mate. I promise you. Was she in your bag this morning?” Phil asks, finally letting go of the teen.   

Tommy thinks back to that morning. While his mind was on the fear of the rubber gloves, he remembers gently placing the spider on his pile of clothes in the black bag. Slowly he nods.  

“That’s great. Now we know she came with you,” Phil replies. Tommy nods again, wiping his eyes more gently than before. “You check the dining room, and I’ll check the car. We’ll find her, I promise.”  

Tommy nods and follows Phil downstairs. He heads to the dining room to check everywhere for the most important thing in the world. As much as he wants Shroud, he doesn’t want to make Phil angry and mess up his kitchen. So, as neatly as he can, he begins searching.  

No matter how crazy the place is, he looks just in case. The knife drawer, silverware drawer, plate cabinet, Tommy even checks the meat drawer in the fridge. No Shroud.  

He checks where he sat, where the quiet pink haired kid sat earlier at lunch, where the lanky brunette sat, where Phil sat. No Shroud.  

Tommy starts searching under the table and around the chairs, going back to other places he looked just in case he somehow missed her. Still, no signs of the spider.  

“Tommy!” Phil calls, letting the door shut behind him. Tommy perks up, walking out of the kitchen as quickly as he came while seeming normal.  

In Phil’s hands in a small, black spider plush with beady black eyes. She looks like she’s smiling at Tommy, incredibly happy to see him.  

“Shroud!” Tommy shouts, gently taking the small plush from Phil’s hands. He holds her against his cheek, rubbing the fuzziness against him. Phil can’t help but smile at how happy Tommy looks. It’s the first time all day he’s seen the younger smile truly. “Thank you Phil! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”  

“Of course, mate. I’m always happy to help.” And with that, Phil walks away, humming a tune Tommy almost recognizes. He clutches his baby, his daughter, under his arm and tries to listen to it closer without seeming obvious.  

Obviously he stumbles and almost falls. Phil doesn’t stop until he reaches his bedroom door. By then, Tommy’s already back on his feet.  

“Otherside by Lena Raine,” Phil calls, turning over his shoulder. Tommy flushes bright red before nodding and staring intently at Shroud. Phil closes his door behind them.  

Tommy all but runs back upstairs to his room, throwing himself and Shroud onto his messy bed after shutting the door. He rubs his face with his free hand and groans. In just a minute, he’ll have to fix his nest.   

Cleaning was exhausting, with or without the horrible gloves. He’d get tired and his throat would get scratchy after a little. Tommy loves cleaning, don’t get him wrong, but it makes him so tired. Still, he knows he has to do it, so he kisses Shroud on her little head and places her on the windowsill.  

He carefully takes out his clothes and puts them in the drawers of the nightstand, not even filling the top drawer. If he wanted to, he could fit Shroud and his backpack in there with room to spare, but his backpack would make his clothes messy, and Shroud belongs in the nest. He tosses the backpack in the small space between the wall and the nightstand.  

Next, he rips everything off his bed again. He’d made it a mess earlier while frantically looking for Shroud, but now he can make it better. Carefully and meticulously, he puts the pillows and plays back until they look nice and comfortable.  

Finally, he places Shroud on his pillow. Truly the centerpiece of the bed, the stair of the show, the most important thing in the room.   

He smiles, happy with himself. The room was nice and clean, and his bed was safe.   

Tommy hopes this home will last longer than a few days.  

Suddenly cold and tired, Tommy climbs into the nest, holding Shroud close to him. As much as he wants to drift off to sleep, he can’t. Something is off.   

He’s not wearing socks, he’s got Shroud-  

Oh.  

Shroud is facing the wrong way.  

Tommy flips Shroud around so her back is to the nest. He smiles and kisses her forehead again before squeezing her tight.   

“Goodnight,” he mumbles. Eventually, the warm darkness that is sleep pulls him close to her, caressing his hair into a slumber.  

Tommy wakes up in a house he almost doesn’t recognize. He sits up, rubbing his head, exhaustion still tugging at his lids. All he wants to do is go back to sleep and forget.  

“Get up,” a voice says. It sounds sugary sweet, but Tommy knows the taste is poison.  

Automatically he stands, physically and emotionally drained. He’s absolutely numb, trained to be the golden child who didn’t speak without permission. His brain is trained with bells and clicks, bells being good and clicks being bad. Whenever he hears that click, he flinches, standing still and staring ahead.  

“Too slow, Thomas,” the voice echoes throughout the mostly empty room. It’s just white with a single white mattress covered in dried blood and tears from the nights Tommy spent crying and scratching his skin, wishing to be normal.  

Tommy stands still, staring ahead. He waits for that awful voice to tell him what to do next.  

The voice can’t know he hates it. The voice can’t know he fears it. The voice can’t know, but the voice knows. It knows everything; it told Tommy itself. Tommy’s thoughts were never safe from the voice. Everything Tommy did was monitored to see if he met the standards of “normal”.

People in white lab coats come and go from his room, feeding him strange foods and colourful liquids to see how he reacts. They jot down everything on little clipboards, tapping a bell on their belts if Tommy reacted correctly and clicking that stupid counter when he showed any signs of disgust or discomfort.  

He’d learned how to hide his emotions, throwing on a mask on nothingness when needed. But now it wasn’t even a mask anymore. It’d melted into his skin, making it part of him. He could no longer remember the feeling of joy or anger or sadness or disgust; he only knew fear and numbness.  

“Today will be better than yesterday,” the voice echoes. Tommy swallows. Yesterday he freaked out, screaming and crying and clawing when a doctor tried to touch him without asking. He shudders at the remembrance of the aftermath: Shroud being taken away for the entire night and being forced to wear the yellow rubber gloves for twelve hours straight. “We will test you on conversation, politeness, eating, and physical contact. Does that sound good?”  

It’s a trick. This wasn’t a question that truly asked for Tommy’s opinion. It was a test to see if he could remember to be good and obedient for the voice.   

“Yes, it sounds good,” Tommy replies automatically. His voice lost all emotion, no longer filling the room with sunshine. It was as blank as the white walls, as telling as his expression.  

A doctor walks in, clipboard in hand. He holds a syringe with neon green liquid. Tommy’s curious, like any child would be, but he stays still, staring at the wall.  

“You may begin, Dr. Davison,” the voice says. There’s a click, and the camera in the corner starts blinking red.  

“Good morning, Tommy. How did you sleep?” Dr. Davison asks, not looking at Tommy. He was too busy setting up the formerly folded table that usually sat against the wall.  

“I slept good, thank you. How did you sleep, sir?” Tommy recites.  

Tommy did not sleep good. He wanted Shroud. Shroud made him feel like maybe this would one day end; Shroud kept him safe and gave him hope for the future.  

“I slept good, thank you. Today I’ll be working on you with conversation and eye contact,” Dr. Davison explains. He picks up the syringe. “Now hold still, please. This shouldn’t hurt too much.”  

“What is that?” Tommy asks, suddenly forgetting all his training. Normal people don’t question doctors. The voice made sure he knew that normal people kept silent, normal people didn’t ask questions, normal people let things happen.  

But Tommy was scared .  

He had never felt more terrified in his life than he did right now. A man almost twice his height and most definitely three times his body weight trying to stick a syringe with weird green liquid into his neck was more than enough to scare the kid. Even scarier, the man, who was meant to help him, was lunging at him.  

Tommy jumps out of the way, begging the tears forming in this eyes to not fall. The doctor jumps again.  

He drops the syringe.  

Tommy doesn’t think about what he does next. He picks it up and stabs it in the doctor’s neck. The man screams and starts writhing on the floor in pain. Tommy drops the syringe in fear.  

“No, no! I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I was- you scared me! I didn’t mean to, please don’t hurt me!” he screams as people rush in. Several people grab him by the arms and lead him to a pitch black and silent room.  

The six-year-old’s screams are heard throughout the entire building that night.  

Everyone is told to ignore them.  

Tommy wakes up with a start, breathing heavily with hair stuck to his forehead. He feels his heartbeat, still clutching onto his best friend. After establishing he is real, alive, and somewhat safe, he calms down a bit.  

There’s a knock at the door.  

“Come in,” Tommy calls out shakily.  

“Just wanted say dinner’s ready,” Phil replies, not opening the door. Tommy calls out a vague noise that could be seen as a response, and Phil leaves, knocking on the door next door and making Tommy jump once again.  

He heads downstairs, the smell of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and bacon filling his nostrils. Immediately Tommy sighs happily. One of his favourite meals.  

Once walking into the kitchen, he notices there isn’t bacon anywhere. Instead, there’s a pot of green beans with pieces of bacon. Even better.  

A while later, everyone is sitting around the table, eating. BITCHASS seems to have warmed up a bit because he initiates a conversation with Phil first.  

“Um, Mr. Phil?” he asks quietly, staring at his food. Phil looks up at him, swallowing a bite of mashed potatoes.   

“What’s up, mate?” Phil asks. BITCHASS mumbles something incomprehensible before speaking louder.  

“I, um, I have a guitar.” BITCHASS takes a deep breath. Techno takes a bite of meatloaf. “Would I be allowed to play it?”  

Phil perks up immediately, grinning widely.  

“Of course! If you ever want an audience, ask me. I’d love to hear you play one day once you’re comfortable,” Phil replies happily. BITCHASS gives him a small smile before going back to eating.  

The rest of dinner is uneventful. Afterwards, each teen politely excuses themselves and head back upstairs.  

Tommy is just drifting off to sleep when a loud crash comes from room next door.  

Chapter Text

BITCHASS hadn’t meant to.  

It was an accident.  

He was trying to open his blinds to look outside, but his elbow hit the lamp and he tried to catch it, he really did, but he couldn’t and it fell and the bulb shattered.   

Immediately he’s sent into fight or flight, and of course his body chooses freeze. Of course. In a scenario that will probably get him sent back to that horrible group home, he can’t even move! He’s frozen in place from fear until he shakes himself out of it.  

BITCHASS grabs the pieces of larger glass and almost immediately cuts himself with it. He’s so stupid! You can’t grab glass with your hands and not expect to get cut. That’s why most of his other group homes made him pick up glass. He’s done this before; why didn’t he think for once? How did he still somehow manage to get cut?  

He’s shaking as he grabs the glass, unknowingly getting blood on some pieces. He’ll probably have to either find a vacuum or try to pick the small pieces of glass out of the carpet. Maybe he’ll leave it and try to ignore it so he doesn’t burden Phil. Yeah, that sounds like a good idea!  

The knock at the door makes him freeze, hand bleeding onto the beige carpet, glass in his hands. He’s still shaking, terrified.  

“Can I come it? I heard something fall. I’m not mad, I promise. I just need to make sure you’re okay,” Phil’s voice calls from the otherside of the door. BITCHASS nods before realizing Phil can’t see him.   

BITCHASS stands up on weak legs and opens the door, getting blood on the doorknob. Phil stands there, smiling up at the incredibly tall teen.  

“Explain what happened so I can help you,” Phil gently says, stepping in. He could obviously see the broken lamp BITCHASS so stupidly knocked over.  

“I was just trying to open the blinds, and I knocked over the lamp. I’m sorry, I know I’m stupid, but I’ll fix it! I’ll clean up the glass, I’ll try to buy you a new lightbulb. Please, just- don’t send me back. I’ll do anything,” BITCHASS pleas. He can’t go back to that place. Not again.   

“Calm down, BITCHASS. It’s okay. I’m not mad, and you’re not going back there, okay? Accidents happen, and I’m here to help you fix this. You aren’t cleaning this up without gloves or a vacuum. Don’t worry about buying me a new lightbulb. I’ve got several to spare,” Phil explains.  

Then he notices the blood on the carpet, doorknob, and BITCHASS’s left palm. A cut across, starting from the bottom of the pinkie and ending at the thumb. BITCHASS sees the older’s eyes darting between the three places, and he looks down at his hand. It’s covered in red liquid.  

Blood.  

His blood.  

BITCHASS was used to blood on his hands. He fought kids at school starting from age seven. Then he started fighting kids at homes, both foster and group. It was almost always self defense; they’d be hitting him first, and he’d hit back.   

But BITCHASS was strong, much stronger than he looks. He looks like he could barely lift a small toddler, but he’s broken a nose more than a few times. It earned him a reputation everywhere he went. People would point at him, cowering away from his bruised knuckles.  

However, he wasn’t used to his blood on him. He didn’t bleed often. When fighting kids, they’d hit him in the face, but somehow miss his nose and hit his jaw (probably hoping to knock out some teeth). He’d always go for the nose because that was soft, that hurt a lot, that caused swimming vision and blood down your face. Punching someone as hard as you can in the nose stopped a fight immediately.  

He was a bad kid, violent, rude, loud. Every foster parent said that, every almost-sibling made sure he remembered, every student, teacher, counselor, principal, nurse, everyone said that. Everyone knew BITCHASS ABUSER was a horrible person, and they made sure BITCHASS knew it too.  

They would taunt him, throwing fake punches at him to see if he’d hit them first. Kids would pretend to trip him, purposely run into him, come up behind him to scare him.  

But BITCHASS wasn’t stupid.  

Usually.  

He hit second. No matter what, he’d hit second. Cameras always caught that he hit second. If he was going to fight someone, he’d only do it where a camera was nearby so it would catch he hit second . It was a tip some kid who looked somewhat like him told him at school:  

“You fight a lot.”  

“Yes.”  

“Do you hit first?”  

“Usually no. Why?”  

“Good. Never hit first, and stay near cameras. Then you can say and prove you were acting on self defense.”  

“What if someone is in trouble?” He was thinking about that foster parent forcing those yellow rubber gloves on that poor blonde poor that he punched in the jaw. Now he wishes he got the nose, but he was going to a different home and didn’t have much time to think.  

“Hit them first. It’s defense.”  

“Okay.”  

And now BITCHASS doesn’t hit first.  

His hand is still bleeding, he notices. He doesn’t know how long he was trapped in his own thoughts of his past, but Phil is gently talking to him, saying something about how he needs BITCHASS to give some sort of confirmation that he can touch him. BITCHASS jerks his head over.  

“Sorry, I- I don’t know what just happened,” BITCHASS apologizes. It’s only a slight lie. He kind of knew what happened, but not to the point he could put it in words that didn’t sound childish or stupid.  

“That’s okay. Can I touch you? I need to clean that cut,” Phil explains. BITCHASS nods, and Phil stands up and motions for him to follow. He does, and they cross the hallway into the bathroom. Phil flips down the toilet seat, and BITCHASS sits down, left hand palm up and covered in slightly dry blood.  

“Will this hurt?” BITCHASS suddenly asks, terrified that Phil was doing this just to hurt him.  

Phil hesitates before admitting, “It might hurt a little, but it won’t be bad at all.”  

BITCHASS nods as Phil takes a wet washcloth and dabs his hand with it. Most of the blood is dried by now, so Phil can wash it off without much difficulty. BITCHASS watches intently, hoping Phil doesn’t have to do this again. He hates burdening people with his injuries.

As a kid, he went to the nurse a lot. He also visited the principal’s. They both knew him by name.   

“Morning, BITCHASS,” the nurse said as he walked in. BITCHASS had just turned 14.   

“Morning, Nurse,” he muttered, holding his cut arm. She waved him over, and he sat down on the cot-like bed. He sat down, still holding the arm.  

“What happened this time?” she asked, gently moving his hand away from the gash. BITCHASS looked away, not wanting to see his own blood on him.  

“They wanted to fight, but I didn’t. I don’t like fighting people,” BITCHASS explained. The nurse hummed. “I tried to tell them I wasn’t looking for a fight. All I wanted was to get to my first period on time! But they didn’t like that. They really wanted to fight.”

“And what’d they do?” she asked, wrapping a white bandage around the wound. BITCHASS hissed in pain as she accidentally grazed the cut. “Sorry.”  

“They hit me,” BITCHASS lied. He didn’t want her worrying about him too much.   

She rolled her eyes. “This is not from a fist or a foot. What’d they do?”  

“They cut me with a broken beer bottle.”  

“What the fuck?”  

BITCHASS flinched at her sudden anger. She was still gently wrapping his arm, having already cleaned it. Her voice was dripping with anger, as though she wanted to kill whoever decided to cut BITCHASS with a dirty bottle, but her actions were so kind, not wanting to hurt anyone. BITCHASS wasn’t sure she could actually hurt anyone even if she wanted to.  

“It’s fine, really. I deserved it,” he muttered. Every time they met up, he said those two sentences. Every time she reprimanded him for thinking like that. The nurse sighed.  

“BITCHASS, I’ve told you many times before. It’s never your fault. I’ve seen footage. You never hit first, you never start fights, hell, BITCHASS, you usually try to leave,” she explained. She finished wrapping his arm, and BITCHASS was suddenly very interested in it. He totally wasn’t trying to avoid her eyes. “Who did this to you?”  

BITCHASS wanted nothing more than to ruin that boy’s life. He wanted that boy to suffer, to be dragged through hell and forced to come back, to be hurt like he hurt BITCHASS. It’s sick, BITCHASS knew this, but he still couldn’t help but want it.  

“Jared,” he replied. The nurse knew immediately. Jared usually came in with BITCHASS, but neither of them ratted each other out. They’d just glare at each other, and since the nurse didn’t have proof either of them hurt the other, she’d just have to sigh and bandage them up or give them ice.  

BITCHASS was tired of being tormented by Jared. Everyday was something new, a new reason that BITCHASS “deserved” what he got. Everyday was a new meeting with the nurse and principal. Everyday BITCHASS fought back for his life, not wanting to seem weak or ever giving Jared the satisfaction of winning.  

No matter how many times BITCHASS and Jared fought, BITCHASS always got the last hit, but Jared always got the last laugh. BITCHASS would get Jared to stop fighting him, and in return Jared would humiliate BITCHASS in front of everyone. He could have blood pouring from his mouth and nose, and he’d still find a way to make fun of BITCHASS in front of a group of students.  

“I’ll handle it.”  

“Thank you.”  

“Alright, I’m all done,” Phil says, applying the Band-Aid. BITCHASS looks at his hand, no longer stained red with his blood or anyone else’s. It was a normal hand, just with a beige Band-Aid across it.   

“Thank you,” BITCHASS muttered, standing up to leave the bathroom, eager to stop bothering Phil with his issues. Why couldn’t he have just handled this himself? God, he’s so stupid sometimes.  

“Anytime. I need to vacuum your room first, though,” Phil explains. BITCHASS freezes.  

He hates vacuums. They were far too loud for BITCHASS’s liking. If only silent vacuums existed.  

“Do you have to?” BITCHASS whispers. Phil nods.  

“How about you go downstairs and get some water? You look pretty shaken up still,” he suggests. BITCHASS nods, happy to get away from the harsh noises of the vacuum, and heads downstairs. He makes it to the living room when he hears the faint hum coming from his room.  

As he gets his water, he realizes how tired he is. It’s barely nine pm, but he’s exhausted. He wants anything more than to fall asleep then and there, even if it means falling asleep on the cold tile. In fact, that sounds like a good idea.  

Sleeping on the tile is a good idea. Or so BITCHASS decides as he lays down, head directly next to his quarter filled glass of water. He closes his eyes, falling asleep to the soft hum of the fridge.  

Chapter Text

It’s been a week living in Phil’s house, and BITCHASS is banned from sleeping on the kitchen tile floor.  

He sleeps on other tile floors. Really, he just sleeps anywhere that isn’t his bed, just to have Phil wake him up, laughing a little to himself.  

Needless to say he was warming up to the other three.  

“Tommy, BITCHASS, Techno, can you three come down to the living room? You aren’t in trouble,” Phil calls from downstairs. BITCHASS nervously places his guitar on his bed. A lot of people promised he wasn’t in trouble only for him to be in deep shit. Then again, Phil hasn’t lied to them. Yet.  

BITCHASS is the first one down, picking at his nails. Is he in trouble? He racks his brain to try to figure out what he did wrong. Maybe Phil was actually angry BITCHASS wasn’t sleeping in his bed. Maybe BITCHASS said something wrong or did something wrong or-  

“We’re going on a trip,” Phil explains as soon as Tommy sits down. The words throw BITCHASS out of his thoughts.   

“Where?” Techno asks. He sat straight, staring Phil dead in the eyes. BITCHASS wonders how he’s able to do it.  

“A petting zoo. One is coming to town next Sunday. I want us all to go. Our first trip together,” Phil replies. Techno lets his shoulders relax, BITCHASS sighs in relief, and Tommy falls back onto the couch.  

“I’d love that. A lot. Will there be sheep?” BITCHASS immediately asks, bouncing his leg happily at the thought of being able to hold a sheep. Maybe he’d even see a lamb! He stops picking at his nails.  

“Yeah, and calves, horses, geese, ducks, baby pigs, and probably a few other things,” he answers.   

“Cows?” Tommy asks, smiling with wide eyes. Phil nods, and Tommy’s jaw drops, his eyes still smiling.  

“I think it’d be fun,” Techno says carefully. BITCHASS can’t tell if he hates the idea or loves the idea, but by the way Phil grins brightly, he assumes Techno loves it.  

“You said Sunday?” Tommy asks. Phil nods. “Okay, let me check my calendar.” Tommy stares at his palm, nodding and muttering to himself. BITCHASS stifles a laugh. “Yup, I’m free!”  

“Are you, BITCHASS?” Phil asks.   

“Hm, well, I have a three o’clock with the wall, but I can reschedule,” BITCHASS jokingly replies. Tommy laughs loudly.  

“The wall?!” he exclaims, tears forming in his eyes. BITCHASS and Phil are laughing too, and when BITCHASS sneaks a look at Techno, he notices he’s smiling and quietly laughing to himself.  

“Techno?”  

“I’ve got war to plan and Greek gods to speak to.” Tommy and BITCHASS look at him with begging eyes. Techno smiles and shakes his head. “But I can do that another day. Baby pigs are more important.”  

BITCHASS and Tommy jump up, cheering, happier than they’d been in years. Tommy starts rambling about cows and how much he loves them.  

“Oh, what I’d do for a fluffy baby cow,” Tommy sighs, laying down on the carpeted floor. BITCHASS joins him, noticing how Techno and Phil are watching. Tommy turns to look at BITCHASS. “Highland cattle babies. Celtic origin.”  

“I want a sheep. Do you think I could make the fur blue?” BITCHASS asks, folding his hands behind his head. Tommy thought about it.  

“I’d think so. As long as you don’t use people hair dye. Just use a water-based dye,” Tommy guesses. BITCHASS nods, staring at the ceiling again.  

“Phil, you should add a skylight,” BITCHASS blurts out after a moment of silence. Techno looks over at him.  

“Yeah, I agree. It’d do some good to have the sunlight in,” Techno agrees. Tommy nods eagerly.   

“Hm. I’ll think about it,” Phil mutters, eyes closed. He obviously wasn’t all there, mostly asleep.  

BITCHASS’s first thought is to run away.  

His second thought, however, is to prank him.  

“Guys, follow me to the kitchen,” BITCHASS whispers. Techno eyes Phil who’s snoring on the couch. Tommy giggles and follows BITCHASS.  

“What should we do?” Tommy asks once they’re in the kitchen. Techno rolls his eyes while smiling, leaning against the counter and crossing his arms.   

“I don’t know, but it needs to be easy to clean up, not painful, and silly,” BITCHASS replies.  

“You mean a normal prank?” Techno chimes in. BITCHASS and Tommy look at him in confusion. “Pranks aren’t meant to be painful. They’re meant to make both parties laugh afterwards. No one should be hurt, emotionally or physically, and nothing should be irreversibly damaged.”  

“ Oh ,” Tommy and BITCHASS say in unison.  

“I always thought pranks were like beating someone up or taking something really important to them,” BITCHASS says, so quietly it’s almost like he didn’t mean to let it out.  

“Whoever did that to you is a complete asshole, and I’ll fight them for you. I’ll make sure it’ll never happen again,” Techno answers. “I’d get ‘em between the eyes. Hurts more.”  

“You’d- you’d do that for me?” BITCHASS asks in disbelief. Techno nods.  

“I’d do it for either of you. We’ve only known each other for a week, but this has been the best week of my life.” Techno looks like he wants to say more, but he doesn’t.   

“I- I don’t want to lose you guys,” Tommy croaks, wiping his eyes aggressively.  

“You won’t. Not anytime soon. Now, let’s plan this prank on Phil,” BITCHASS suggests. The other two nod, all three of them eager to not cry in front of each other or really talk about their feelings.   

“I think it’d be funny if we put whip cream on his hand,” Tommy suggests.    

“Whipped cream, Tommy. And yeah, that’d be really funny. But I also want to try something else,” BITCHASS says, grinning mischievously.  

Twenty minutes later, almost everything in the kitchen and living room are shifted a few inches to the left. Techno was even able to sneak into Phil’s room and move the mattress a little.  

“Hey, Phil,” Tommy whispers, nudging Phil.  

“Hm?” Phil hums.  

“Wake up. You’ve left three teenagers unattended in your house for over half an hour.”  

Phil reaches his hand up to wipe his face and-  

“What the fuck?” he exclaims, laughing. He looks down at his hand which was covered in whipped cream.  

Tommy, BITCHASS, and Techno are all laughing so hard that they’re on the floor. Techno’s holding his stomach, BITCHASS is wheezing, and Tommy is beating up the floor like he wants its lunch money.  

“Oh, you little shits!” Phil jokingly shouts, running at them with his hand still partially covered in whipped cream. BITCHASS shrieks and gets up as quickly as he can, running through the kitchen into the dining room. Techno runs from the living room to the main hall, meeting BITCHASS in the dining room.  

Tommy is still beating up the floor.  

“Get Tommy, get Tommy!” BITCHASS shrieks through laughter, pointing towards the youngest person in the household.   

“He’s defenseless!”   

“Your point being?”  

“BITCHASS!”  

“That’s my name!”   

Footsteps come from behind BITCHASS, and he whips around to see Tommy there.  

His hand is covered in whipped cream.  

“Tommy!” BITCHASS shouts, getting whipped cream all over his face. Tommy cackles, wiping his hand all over BITCHASS. Phil gets Techno. Soon, everyone is laughing and covered in whipped cream. BITCHASS’s convinced he’s got some in his ears.  

“I think,” Phil says breathlessly, “we all need to shower, yeah?”  

“Who wants to shower first?” BITCHASS asks. “I can shower last. I like cold showers.”  

It’s a lie. BITCHASS cannot stand the feeling of being pelted with icy cold water when all he wants is warmth. Warm water is softer on his skin. It doesn’t make sense, but to him it does.  

“Tommy, you can go first. BITCHASS, I’ll go last,” Techno says. BITCHASS starts to protest. “I don’t want to anything about this. I’m the oldest.”  

“Thanks, Techno! I’ll be fast, I promise. And I won’t use all the hot water,” Tommy promises, running upstairs.  

“How’d you know?” Phil asks. BITCHASS stares at Techno.  

“Wait, how did you know? You don’t know my birthday,” BITCHASS echos. Techno shrugs.  

“I just know these kinds of things. Plus, you radiate younger sibling energy,” Techno replies matter-of-factly. BITCHASS stares at him, mouth wide open.  

“Now what does that mean?” BITCHASS asks, crossing his arms. Techno gives him a pointed look. “Wait, I don’t even know your birthday! For all we know, I’m older than you!”  

“Good luck working that out. I already know I’m older,” Techno answers with a laugh.  

“Phil!”  

“He’s right, mate. He is older.”  

“What?!”  

“I’m done! BITCHASS, you can shower now,” Tommy calls from the top of the stairs.  

“Thank you!” BITCHASS replies. “This is not over.”  

“Tommy!” Techno yells.  

“Yeah?”  

“Does BITCHASS give of younger brother vibes?”  

“Yeah.”  

“Fuck you!”  

BITCHASS laughs on his way to the shower, attempting to telepathically send thanks to Techno for letting him shower first. All he needs right now is a nice, hot shower.  

He steps into the bathroom and locks the door immediately. BITCHASS has too many experiences with drunk foster parents and even foster siblings barging into the bathroom while he was in there. He knows it’s probably rude, but he just needs to keep feeling safe here. If locking the door made him safe, he’d risk seeming rude.

The shower is easy to work out. A hot water knob, a cold water knob, and a knob to make the water come out of the shower head. Once BITCHASS gets the temperature right and locates all the soaps, he turns off the light and climbs in.  

He was never one to like showering with the lights on. It made him uncomfortable. Just the thought of having to look at himself while showering was weird. He likes himself better in jeans and a brown knitted sweater.   

Three minutes later, the lights flicker back on, and BITCHASS dries his hair off. He hates the feeling of wet hair, but the hair dryer makes his hair straight, and he hates the feeling of straight hair more than he hates the feeling of wet hair. BITCHASS resorts to aggressively drying his hair with his towel.  

When he finally is dressed, he looks at himself in the foggy mirror. His hair is chaotic and everywhere, and it takes him everything to not bust out laughing. He tugs at it, pulling it every which way to see if he can make it look slightly normal, before settling on a slightly less chaotic look.  

“Techno, shower’s open!” he yells from his bedroom. Techno calls back a thank you, and BITCHASS shuts his bedroom door.  

The guitar sits on the ground on front of his bed, still in its unzipped case. He changes into pajamas and sits on his bed before pulling the guitar up with him. The only thing illuminating him is the moonlight outside and the new bulb in his lamp.  

About two hours later, he hears a knock at his door. Immediately he stops playing.  

“Come in,” he calls softly. The person opens the door.  

There stands Tommy, blonde hair a mess, wearing old red plaid pajama pants that look to be a size too small and an oversized black hoodie. His nose and cheeks are red, and his eyes are puffy. BITCHASS can tell he’s been crying, but he has no idea how to comfort him.  

“Sorry, I had a nightmare,” Tommy explains, sniffling. He rubs his eyes. “Can you- can you play the guitar until I fall back asleep?”  

“Yeah, yeah, of course, Tommy. Do you want me to play in here or do you want to go back to your room?” BITCHASS offers.  

“Can we stay in here? Please?” he asks. BITCHASS nods, and Tommy comes into full view. In his left hand is a black spider plush. Tommy climbs into the bed with BITCHASS, and he moves closer to the wall so Tommy can have more room.  

“What’s her name?” BITCHASS asks quietly, motioning to the spider. Tommy sniffles again, leaning into BITCHASS’s shoulder.  

“Shroud. I love her. My mom gave me her when I was born,” Tommy answers. BITCHASS nods before playing one of his favourite songs: Rises the Moon by Liana Flores.  

A few songs later, Tommy’s breath is even. BITCHASS smiles down at him.  

He continues playing songs until the sun starts to peek over the lemon trees out his window, filling his bedroom with soft sunlight. Eventually he lays Tommy down on his bed before putting his guitar away and falling asleep next to him.  

He’d claim he continued playing in case Tommy woke up from another nightmare, but in reality he played all night because he had someone to play for. Either way, he played for Tommy.  

Chapter Text

Techno loves animals. He seems rude and mean because of how quiet he is and he has “resting bitch face” according to some foster adults, but he is a sucker for animals.  

That’s why he was so excited when Phil said they’d go to a petting zoo the following Sunday.   

But (because there’s always a but) there would be crowds. Techno hates crowds. It gave him anxiety attacks (something he found out after sneaking out one night to go to the library). He found out that shaky his hands helped with the crowds, but not that much.  

“Phil,” Techno says, standing behind his foster parent.  

“What’s up?” Phil asks, placing a plate in the dishwasher. Techno shifts nervously from foot to foot. How was he going to explain this?  

“I don’t like crowds.”  

“Oh?”  

“And the petting zoo-.”  

“It won’t be crowded, I promise. Not many people know about it. I was only told by a close friend,” Phil explains.  

Oh.  

“Okay.”  

Techno heads back upstairs, nervous for the next day. It was late, eleven pm, but he wasn’t tired. He was bouncing around his room, wanting to fall asleep so he could see baby animals. Every step brings him closer and closer to sleep until he’s so tired he barely makes it onto his bed before falling asleep.  

“Techno!” Tommy shouts, knocking on the older’s door. Techno sits up, groaning and rubbing his eyes. His head hurts.  

“Yeah?” he calls.  

“It’s animal day!” Tommy answers. Techno raises an eyebrow.  

“It’s not October 4 th ,” he replies. Tommy is silent for a moment.  

“What?”  

“Nothing. Okay, let me get dressed. I’ll be downstairs for breakfast in a minute.”  

Techno groans again as he gets out of bed, head still in severe pain. He closes the blinds and turns off the overhead light and his lamp. The headache is still there, but he feels better now.  

He can already tell it’s sensory overload with the way his ears are picking up every little sound, so he covers them and rocks back and forth for a minute before getting up to get dressed. It’s hot out at this time of year, so he wears jeans and a plain black t-shirt. He debates leaving his three gold rings on his dresser, but eventually decides to leave them on, grabbing his gold bracelets too.

Every piece of jewelry he had he got from his father. After an accomplishment, he was gifted something gold. A gold bracelet for getting through his first day of school without crying, a ring for getting a 100 on his art project, another ring for going out to the supermarket without crying. The jewelry was a reminder of who his father was back when he loved Techno.  

Back before he abandoned him, promising him that they’d never see each other again.  

“Techno, breakfast is ready!” Phil calls, knocking lightly on Techno’s door. He looks up at the closed door and clears his throat.  

“I’ll be down in just a minute,” he replies, slipping his shoes on. They were black Converse, covering his bacon socks. He walks down the wooden stairs, shaking his fists happily at the sound.  

“Morning, Techno. Glad to see you’re awake and ready. We’ll leave as soon as everyone finishes breakfast,” Phil explains, placing a plate of bacon, fried eggs, and fluffy pancakes in front of him. In the center of the table a container of butter and a bottle of syrup sit opened. Tommy is stabbing the butter.

“Tommy, can you pass me the butter?” Techno asks. Tommy stops attacking.  

“No.”  

“Why?”  

“It offended me. I must stab it.”  

“How’d it offend you?”  

“It was too cold.”  

“Give me the butter, Tommy.”  

“Okay.”  

A minute later, Tommy clears his throat.  

“Will there be people there?” he asks nervously.  

“Not many people. Nobody really knows about this,” Phil explains.  

“What if people push me around?” Tommy asks once again, poking at his eggs.  

“Then I’ll deal with them. If anyone messes with either of you, let me know. I care about you.” Techno wants to add something, but he lets it remain in his thoughts.  

You’re like brothers to me.  

Tommy and BITCHASS smile and thank him in unison before launching into a jinx battle. Phil smiles and shakes his head, going back to eating his pancakes.  

Twenty minutes later, the four are leaving the house and piling into the car. Phil climbs into the driver’s seat, Techno in the passenger, Tommy behind Phil, and BITCHASS behind Techno.  

“How far is the drive?” Tommy whines.  

“About half an hour,” Phil replies.  

“Oh, so ten songs?” BITCHASS asks. Phil nods.   

“Yeah exactly,” he says. BITCHASS smiles to him. Techno closes his eyes and rests his head against the window, feeling the bumps in the road in his brain. He smiles a little to himself.  

“Can we put on music? Please?” Tommy asks, drawing out the ‘please’.

“Sure, mate. Do you want to choose the songs?” Phil suggests. Tommy nods eagerly.  

“Can I also pick some songs?” BITCHASS asks and Phil connects his phone to the car’s Bluetooth.  

“No,” Tommy answers immediately. Techno finds himself falling asleep to the sound of their bickering.  

“Techno, we’re here, and I can see a baby pig with your name written all over it,” Tommy whispers into his ear. Techno’s eyes shoot open, searching the area for the baby pigs. There he sees a pen with baby pigs running around, squealing.  

“I’m going there, and you can’t stop me,” Techno says. He gets out of the car and walks over to the pen.  

“Hello, sir. How may I help you today? Would you like to buy or just carry a baby with you?” a man asks. He smiles brightly. His name tag reads “Ranboo”.   

“Can I carry one?” he asks. The man nods, picking up a squealing baby and handing it to Techno. He almost drops it out of pure happiness.  

“My coworker, Niki, has more animals over there. Ducks, cows, and horses. In my area, we have chickens, sheep, and goats. And obviously pigs. Feel free to roam and pet any animals! If they bite you, which they won’t but I have to say this as a legal precaution, please let us know immediately, and we’ll give you proper care for the bite,” Ranboo explains. 

“And what happens to the animal?” Techno asks, stroking the baby pig’s head. It squeals.  

“Nothing harmful in my experience, but they are not allowed out in the petting zoo until they can be trained not to bite,” Ranboo assures him. Techno nods and walks off, unsure if that was the end of the conversation.  

“Are these highland cattle?” he overhears Tommy ask a young woman. She lets out a laugh.  

“Yes, sir, they are! They’re calves now. Would you like to hug one?” she asks. Her name tag reads “Niki”. Tommy nods eagerly, stepping over the fence and into the pen with the fluffy babies. Techno can’t help but notice the stench.  

“Ah, I see you met Waddles?” Niki asks Techno, pointing to the baby pig he pets. Techno nods, continuing to pet it gently.   

“I love pigs. Did you know they can’t sweat? Their mothers also sing to them. They also are really clean despite what everyone thinks,” Techno rambles. Niki nods, seemingly interested.   

“I always thought they were dirty,” Niki admits. Techno shakes his head.  

“Nope. If given the choice, they won’t defecate or eat where they sleep. Even the piglets,” he explains. “They roll in the mud to keep cool and also to prevent them from being sunburned. Their skin is actually pretty sensitive.”  

“Wow, I didn’t know this! You seem to know a lot about pigs. That’s really cool,” Niki says sincerely. Techno looks down at the sleeping baby in his arms. Totally not to avoid Niki’s eyes so she wouldn’t see him blushing slightly from the compliment. Nope. Not at all. Techno was cool, like an ice cube.

“Highland cattle are the oldest breed of cattle in the world. They were first mentioned in the 6 th century, but the Highland Cattle Society wasn’t formed until 1884 with the first herd being recorded a year later in 1885,” Tommy says a minute later. “Niki, can I name this cow Henry?”  

“I don’t see why not,” Niki says with a shrug and a smile. Techno smiles at her, trying to give a silent thank you. He hopes she understands.  

“What else do you know about them?” Techno asks, hoping Tommy would talk more about the cows since he was obviously really interested in them. Tommy perks up slightly, clearly excited to have someone willing to listen to his rambling.  

“Nobody really knows if the adults can see where they’re going. They’re also really friendly. And cuddly,” Tommy says with a smile, looking down at the baby calf asleep in his lap. He leans back into the hay behind him.  

“I’m going to go find BITCHASS,” Techno tells him a minute later. Tommy waves and starts rambling again to Niki who is very interested. He resists the urge to call out an “I love you”.  

Techno finds BITCHASS in the sheep pen who was laughing and clapping as he watched two lambs butt heads.   

“Techno, look at them!” BITCHASS calls happily, laughing as the two play. Another lamb headbutts him in the side.   

“You look like you’re having fun,” Techno points out with a laugh as BITCHASS starts petting the lamb. It flops down in his lap.  

“I am, I really am. I’m really happy Phil took us here. What’s Tommy doing?” BITCHASS asks. Techno shrugs.  

“Talking about cows to Niki. A highland cattle calf is asleep in his lap. According to Tommy, they are the first cow breed to be recorded,” Techno says, echoing what Tommy told him earlier.  

“Wow, that’s really cool!”  

“Awe, Waddles fell asleep while you held him!” Ranboo coos, scaring Techno a little. He didn’t know he was standing right there! “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”  

“It’s fine,” Techno replies. “Did you know pigs don’t sweat and they’re really clean?”  

“I didn’t, that’s really cool!” Ranboo and BITCHASS say at the same time. They stare at each other for a second before laughing.   

“BITCHASS, what do you know about sheep?” Techno asks, eager to hear BITCHASS talk about the fluffy animals. He obviously really liked them.  

“They have scent glands on their eyes and feet. Also they have rectangle pupils which is strange in my opinion,” BITCHASS replies, stroking the lamb in his lap. The two lambs had stopped playing and were napping with each other.  

“That’s so weird, but also really cool. Does it enhance their vision or something?” Techno asks. BITCHASS leans back and closes his eyes, mindlessly petting the lamb.  

“Mhm, it gives them a wider field of vision. They also have far too many teeth. 32 of them,” BITCHASS mumbles.  

“That’s cool! I’m going to go find Phil now,” Techno says. BITCHASS hums in response.  

Techno once again resists the urge to call an “I love you” to him as he walks away.   

He finds Phil talking to a bald man who has a name tag with the name “Jack” on it. Techno pets the pig in his arms.  

“Hey, mate. What do you have there?” Phil asks, gently stroking the piglet.  

“Waddles,” he replies simply. Phil hums.  

“Would you like to buy him?” Jack asks. Phil starts to open his mouth.  

“No, thanks. I won’t be able to take care of him. We don’t have space in the backyard. Thank you, though,” Techno says. Jack hums in response, and the three continue talking.  

About an hour and a half later, everyone is ready to go home. They all were having fun, but they were very hungry.  

“Thank you for taking us here, Phil,” Techno says once they’re all in the car. Tommy and BITCHASS echo their thanks, falling asleep on each other.  

“Of course. I’m glad everyone had fun,” Phil says, smiling at the sleeping boys in the back. Techno leans against the window.  

“You’re the coolest person in this car,” Techno mumbles. He hears Phil laugh, and he smiles, falling asleep soon after.

Chapter Text

It’s been a month with Phil, and so far nothing bad has happened. Techno is taking this as a win.   

He knows bad things are inevitable, so he cherishes all the happy moments he can. He knows he’ll be back at the group home eventually, so he tries to hold onto all the times Phil made him feel loved.   

Nobody ever liked having him with them. He was always either too quiet or rude or just “not something we can deal with right now”. Techno was used to the excuses on why he wasn’t good enough for the picture perfect families he was thrown into.   

He just wished Phil would stop lying to him.  

“I have an idea. How about we all make dinner together?” Phil suggests. Something in his tone says he wants to say more, but his mouth stays set in a smile.  

“Oh, yeah, that sounds fun!” Tommy agrees eagerly, looking to BITCHASS and Techno. Techno shrugs and nods in agreement.  

“As long as I don’t have to touch wet food or use knifes, I’m down,” BITCHASS says with a smile. Tommy jumps up in joy, running to the kitchen.  

“Phil! Where are your aprons?” Tommy yells.  

“I don’t own aprons,” Phil calls back.  

“But you’re old! You have to own aprons! It’s the law!” Tommy shouts back. Phil lets out a laugh, bending over.  

“Mate, I’m not that old. I’m barely 35,” he calls back. Tommy gasps and sticks his head into the living room.  

“Be careful, Techno and BITCHASS. If you breathe too hard in his direction, his skin and bones will turn to dust,” Tommy jokes. Phil gets up, grinning, and chases Tommy back into the kitchen, both of them laughing and Tommy shrieking.  

“I’m glad Tommy likes it here. How do you feel about this?” Techno asks, hoping BITCHASS loved it as much as he did.  

“I love it here. We’ve been here a month, and all Phil has done is show us love and compassion.” BITCHASS pauses. “I’m not sure how to deal with it. You know how the foster system is. It just feels too good to be true.”  

Techno nods. “Yeah I-.” Techno takes a deep breath. “I don’t want it all to end.”  

I love you guys.  

“Me neither.”  

“It won’t end. It can’t,” Techno says, standing up and reaching for BITCHASS’s hand. BITCHASS takes it, and Techno helps him up. He holds BITCHASS’s hand to his chest, against his heart. “You feel my heart beating? As long as it beats, we’ll be okay.”  

BITCHASS smiles and wipes his tears with his free hand. Another shriek and laughter comes from the kitchen, reminding the two that there were other people. Techno wipes tears he didn’t know he had, and they both laugh, a bit red eyed.  

“Let’s go bully Phil about being old and single,” BITCHASS says with a smile. Techno laughs and let’s go of his hand.   

If Phil or Tommy noticed their red eyes, they didn’t say anything.  

“Okay, Phil. What are we making?” Tommy asks.  

“Wait, let me guess,” Techno interrupts, eager to tease Phil and use his love history for something. “Barley, oats, rye?”  

“I’m not old!” Phil exclaims, laughing.   

“Okay, Mr. Phillip ,” BITCHASS teases, remembering what that awful woman called him when the four first met. Phil lightly hits him with an oven mitt.

“I go by Phil for a reason,” the older laughs. Tommy stands behind him, arms slightly outstretched.  

“Careful, old man. We don’t want you falling and breaking every bone in your body,” Tommy jokes. Phil whips around and gets him in the shoulder with his yellow oven mitt.  

Tommy’s face turns into one of fear for a fraction of a second before going back to laughing and a look of relief. It was so quick that if you blinked you would’ve missed it. But Techno noticed.   

He stays quiet.  

“You never told us what we’re making, Grandpa,” Techno chimes in. Phil goes to hit him with the mitt, but Techno ducks and grabs the other one on the counter and gets Phil in the back of the head. He laughs and gets Techno on his head.   

“It’s my favourite meal. Chicken alfredo with garlic bread. My father taught me how to cook it, and his mother taught him, and her aunt taught her, and so on.” Phil smiles fondly at the mention of his father.  

“How long will this take?” Tommy asks, bouncing in his toes.  

“At most 45 minutes,” Phil replies.   

“What do we need?” BITCHASS asks, watching as Phil grabbed a pot.   

“Olive oil, chicken breasts-,”  

“Ha. Breasts .” Techno whacks Tommy with his oven mitt.  

“- salt, pepper, milk, chicken broth, garlic, fettuccini, heavy cream, and Parmesan cheese,” Phil explains, grabbing a skillet and putting the chicken he had on the counter into the oil. He put some salt and pepper in.  

“No knifes?” BITCHASS asks, backing away and eyeing the heating oil warily.   

“Not for you. In about eight minutes, I’ll flip it. Eight minutes after that, I’ll let the chicken rest for ten minutes before I, and only I will, slice them. I’ll explain what we’ll do next when we get there,” Phil explains, moving the chicken around.  

“I’m still shocked you don’t have aprons,” Tommy grumbles, tugging at his hoodie he wore to bed.

“Who owns aprons?” Phil asks. He places the tongs on the counter. BITCHASS cringes.   

“The last place I was in had custom aprons for the kids. Well, not me. I wasn’t part of the family,” BITCHASS says with a laugh.  

“Oh, my last place had matching pajamas for the family, including the cat. I kind of wish they got me some,” Tommy relates.   

“I have never had an original experience. A family a few years ago got everyone matching shirts for when we went out in public because they had like ten kids. I got lost frequently,” Techno remembers. He hadn’t thought about that family in years. He was just seven years old. It was his first family after his dad abandoned him, and he was upset constantly.

“How can you talk about this so casually?” Phil asks, exasperated.   

“I’m sorry?” Techno asks, moving to stand in front of Tommy and BITCHASS.  

“You were shunned from what was meant to be your family. That’s not normal. They shouldn’t have treated you like that,” Phil says, backing away.  

“Calm down, Phil. Let’s not get too angry,” Techno replies calmly, pushing BITCHASS and Tommy back. BITCHASS grabs Tommy’s hand.  

“I’m not angry at you guys, I promise. You just shouldn’t have had to go through that. I’m sorry you had to. It makes me pissed off you were all treated that way by so many people that you were told it was normal,” Phil explains, voice calmer now. Tommy and BITCHASS relax, but Techno doesn’t move.  

“So you won’t hurt them?” Techno asks, arms still out to his side, blocking Phil from the other teens.   

“No, God no. I would never lay a hand on any of you without asking,” he answers. Techno finally relaxes.  

“I’m sorry for thinking you’d hurt us, Phil. It was wrong of me,” Techno recites. That woman had engrained this into his head, making him believe it was the only way to truly apologize and be worthy of forgiveness.  

“And I’m sorry for making you think I’d hurt you guys. I shouldn’t have gotten angry,” Phil says with a sigh.   

“I hate to break up this sentimental moment, but it’s been eight minutes,” Tommy says, pointing at the chicken. BITCHASS still holds his other hand. Phil nods and turns the chicken over.  

“How has it been eight minutes already?” Techno whispers to himself. BITCHASS just shrugs.  

As time goes on, BITCHASS adds the milk, broth, and garlic, Techno adds heavy cream and Parmesan, and Tommy stirs like crazy. Sometimes he purposely gets some sauce on Techno. Techno wipes it off on him.  

“Watch this,” BITCHASS says, and he grabs a noodle and throws it on the wall.  

“Holy shit!” Tommy shouts, laughing as the noodle sticks. “Why does it so that?”  

“No clue, big man, but my mom taught me,” BITCHASS replies with a smile.  

“Okay, dinner is ready, boys,” Phil says a second later, peeling the spaghetti off the wall and throwing it at BITCHASS’s face.  

They sit around the table like they did for every breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with Phil at the head of the table, Tommy to his right, Techno to his left, and BITCHASS to the left of Techno. Techno likes how the order stays the same everyday. They all sit in the same place, easily slotting in like puzzle pieces.  

“Thank you for dinner, Phil,” Tommy says with his mouth full. Techno and BITCHASS echo their thanks.  

“You’re welcome, and thank you guys for helping. This tastes better than how I usually make it. I think it’s all because you helped me. So thank you ,” Phil says, stabbing the chicken and twirling his fork around some noodles.  

“What in the PBS,” Techno mumbles to himself. BITCHASS whacks him. “What? PBS always said something then, ‘from viewers like you, thank you!’ Phil just did that. He’s literally PBS.”  

“I think you just need to learn how to take a compliment,” Tommy says with his mouth full. “Also, you’re welcome for helping, Phil!”  

“First of all, please don’t talk with food in your mouth. I’m scared you’ll choke.” Tommy swallows loudly. “Secondly, I can take a compliment!”  

“You say. You know, like a liar,” BITCHASS teases. Techno rolls his eyes, smiling so BITCHASS knew he was messing around. “And you’re welcome, Phil.”   

“I can take compliments,” Techno insists, shoving a forkful of food in his mouth so he wouldn’t be forced to take compliments.  

“Techno, I hate to break it to you, but you’re the only person at the table who hasn’t accepted the thanks of dinner,” BITCHASS points out.  

“Sorry, food, mouth,” Techno says, pointing at his mouth still full of food. BITCHASS and Tommy look away. Phil takes a sip of water so he doesn’t laugh.  

“Just accept you did a good job!” Tommy jokingly shouts. Techno swallows.  

“No!”  

“Yes!”  

“No!”  

“Yes!”  

“Yes!”  

“N- wait a minute. Yes!”  

“You’re welcome for helping with dinner!”  

“Yes!”  

Phil shoots Techno a quick smile, and Tommy tries to grab BITCHASS’s garlic bread. He gently hits his hand.  

“My garlic bread you gremlin child,” BITCHASS teases. Tommy gasps.  

“I am not a gremlin child!” Tommy exclaims, grabbing an unclaimed garlic bread.  

“You are,” BITCHASS argues. Tommy looks desperately to Techno. He just shrugs and continues eating. Phil snorts.  

“Philza Minecraft, please tell me you don’t think I’m a gremlin child.”  

“One, where did you get that name from? Two, you are. Sorry, mate. It’s the truth.”  

Phil’s question is never answered.  

The rest of dinner continues like this. Tommy constantly trying to prove he’s not a gremlin child only to prove he is. At one point a noodle ends up in BITCHASS’s hair.  

Techno curls up into bed later that night, long after everyone turned in. He wraps his blanket tighter around him, staring at the window. The lemon trees in the backyard sway in the wind. He’s about to roll over when there’s a knock at his door.  

“Come in,” he calls. The door opens slowly, as though whoever it was was reconsidering coming into Techno’s room so late at night.  

“Sorry to bother you,” BITCHASS whispers.  

“You’re not bothering me. Come lay down. What’s wrong?” Techno asks, moving over so BITCHASS had room. BITCHASS slides under the covers, curling up and lying down.  

“I had a bad dream.” Techno hums in understanding. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”   

“Of course. Do you want to talk about it?” BITCHASS shakes his head.  

“Can you tell me a story?”  

Techno tells the story of Icarus, the person who flew too close to the sun. Even after BITCHASS’s breath becomes even and he stops humming responses every now and then, Techno finds himself rambling on and on about other stories like the lost city of Atlantis and the story Theseus. He hears BITCHASS wake up twice while he’s rambling. Each time BITCHASS held his hand tighter and smiled.  

The sun was peeking over the trees in the backyard when Techno was finally tired enough to fall asleep. He knows BITCHASS was asleep by this point, so he lays down next to him, holding BITCHASS’s hand a little tighter.  

“Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”  

Techno closes his eyes and sighs.  

“I love you.”  

Chapter Text

Today was cleaning day. Tommy hates cleaning day.

The air was still a little tense from Phil getting angry a week ago. Even though they all knew he wasn’t angry at them, Phil was still more careful with his words, his footsteps softer. Tommy didn’t think he does this on purpose, but it makes him angry nonetheless.

He’s not fragile. He doesn’t need to be tiptoed around. Tommy is big and strong and tough and amazing and charismatic and humble. And tall. He’s not a piece of glass you need to be worried about breaking.

Phil warned them about cleaning day last Monday. It was Saturday now. Tommy had time to prepare, and he was still panicking after lunch.

“Okay, Tommy. Can you handle the kitchen? I just need you to clean the counters, the sink, the table, and sweep and mop the floor,” Phil explains. Tommy gulps and nods. “I got these for you so it might be easier.”

And then he pulls them out.

The rubber yellow gloves Tommy has grown to fear. They’ve hurt him, and everyone who’s made him wear them hurt him. He can’t trust the gloves, even though Phil holds no strings or bands to keep them on his wrists.

He stares at them, shaking and in fear.

“No, no,” Tommy whispers, backing into the table. He turns around for a second before going back to staring at those horrific gloves. Phil is going to hurt him. After everything he’s promised, after everything he’s done.

“Tommy? Are you okay?” Phil asks, not moving. He places the gloves on the counter, away from Tommy.

“Stay away from me! Stay-,” Tommy shouts.

“Hey, it’s okay. I promise,” Phil tries to explain, stepping closer to Tommy.

“No, no! Get away from me!” he yells. Phil tries to get closer to him.

Then he runs. He runs out of the house, down the driveway, and down the street towards where the grocery store was. Phil yells after him, but Tommy is faster, running on and on. Tears block his vision, but he still keeps going, wiping his face often.

Eventually he loses Phil. His voice no longer shouts, and he isn’t following Tommy on foot or in the car. Tommy almost collapses in front of a cat café.

“Woah, there. Hey, are you okay? Would you like some water?” an extremely tall man asks. Tommy nods, breathing heavily, and follows him indoors.

“Oh, Joel! You’re back already?” a short woman wearing black cat ears asks. She looks up after placing a cake in the display case. “That’s not groceries.”

“Can you get him a glass of water? He almost passed out a moment ago.” Tommy is sat down at a booth. He lays his head on the cold table. “What’s your name?”

“Tommy,” he answers, barely catching his breath. The tall man sits across from him. “How tall are you?”

He laughs. “I’m Joel, and I’m 6’9.” The woman places a glass of water in front of him. He smiles and mumbles a thanks.

“Hey, Tommy. I’m Lizzie. Welcome to the cat café of the town,” she says. Tommy nods and sips his drink, shuddering at how cold it is.

“You’re very short,” Tommy says after drinking half the glass. Joel laughs. “You too, big man.”

“I’m almost seven feet tall!” Joel exclaims. Tommy smiles.

“Oh! Joel, Sausage text me earlier,” Lizzie starts, pulling out her phone. “He said he and Hermes might come over for a visit later.”

“Hermes?” Tommy couldn’t help asking. Joel nods.

“I have a son,” he says. When Tommy raises his eyebrow, Joel refuses to elaborate.

“Cool. I have no children,” Tommy replies, drinking the last of his drink. “How much for the water?”

“You don’t need to pay us for that. It’s just a glass of water. We don’t charge here for that,” Lizzie explains. Tommy nods, hesitant.

“Thank you. I’ll get out of your hair now. Maybe I’ll see you around,” Tommy says, standing up. He almost falls over, but he tries to make it seem natural. His legs just felt so weak, like walking was impossible. He takes a second before walking out, petting a cat with a name tag labeled “Buddy”.

He wanders around the town, looking at the shops. A pop-up cookie shop was on a corner. Tommy’s stomach grumbles, and he wraps his arm around it before walking to the two brunette men.

“Scar, Scar! We have a costumer!” the younger says. He’s wearing a brown and yellow striped sweater and light blue overalls. The man seated next to him looks around.

“What? Oh! Hello there, my good sir,” the older says. He’s wearing a long green cloak with gold trimmings. His pants are a slightly darker green. “My name is Scar, and we always have good times here.” He moves his incredibly long hair out of his eyes.

“And I’m Tubbo!” the younger one says. Tommy nods.

“What are you two selling?” he asks, glancing at the little cart. He knew, but he felt it’d be nice to ask.

This seems to be the right thing to say because both perk up. They look at each other, grinning.

“We aren’t selling! We’re giving them away,” Tubbo exclaims. Scar nods.

“Our cookies are the best in the world,” Scar adds. He wheels around and hands Tommy one. Tommy takes a bite and-

Oh.

My.

God.

This was the best (and only) cookie Tommy ever had in his life! He almost falls over from how good it tastes. That, or his legs are still weak. Tommy believes it’s because of the cookie.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says, covering his mouth so Scar and Tubbo don’t see him talking with his mouth full of delicious chocolate chip cookie. “This is the best cookie I’ve ever had. It’s also the only cookie I’ve ever had.”

Scar and Tubbo exchange a quick look, one Tommy can’t read. He takes another bite of the warm cookie. It was perfect: crunchy edges and soft inside. Tommy needs to make this cookies if he ever goes back to Phil’s.

“You’ve never had a cookie?” Scar asks gently, tilting his head slightly. Tommy nods, taking another bite.

“I was never good enough to earn one,” he exclaims after swallowing his bite. God this was a big cookie. “Foster parents didn’t think I deserved any.” He laughs a little.

“Here, let me wrap one up for you. Take it home, boss man,” Tubbo says. Scar nods.

“Feel free to come back anytime!” Scar calls as Tommy takes the wrapped up cookie from Tubbo. Tommy nods and finishes the first cookie, waving as he left.

Tommy continues walking. Joel from earlier was walking with a shorter man, both of them holding hands with a four-year-old boy.

“Daddy Sausage, look! He has a cookie! Can we get one from Mr. Scar and Mr. Tubbo?” the little boy asks as Tommy passes. Joel waves.

“Yes, Hermes, if Daddy Joel says it’s okay,” Sausage says, smiling at Tommy. He smiles and waves back.

“Daddy Joel?” Joel laughs and nods. Hermes cheers. “Bye bye, cool sir!” He waves to Tommy.

“Bye, buddy,” Tommy calls, waving and walking down the street. He spots a gardener in a thick dark green coat despite it being over 90 degrees Fahrenheit (over 32 degrees Celsius), but the gardener doesn’t seem bothered by the heat.

“Good morning, sir! I like your azaleas!” Tommy calls. The man looks up.

“Thank you! Would you like to help me water them?” he asks. Tommy shrugs and walks over. It’s not like he has anywhere else to be.

“Yeah, sure. How long have you been growing them?” Tommy asks, stepping over the small fence.

“About a year. What’s your name?” he asks, handing Tommy a watering can.

“Tommy. What’s yours?” Tommy replies, watering a blooming azalea. The strange moss man waters some alliums.

“My friends call me Bdubs,” he answers with a grin. “Where are your parents? Do they know you’re here?”

“Let’s change the subject because we don’t have time for all of that,” Tommy states bluntly. Bdubs nods in understanding.

“Well, you seem old enough and smart enough to not get attacked. Although our town isn’t really one to be known for violence. Quite the opposite,” Bdubs rambles, watering more flowers. “We’re like Finland, but stranger.”

“Oh.” Tommy stays silent for a minute, listening to Bdubs hum songs as they water more plants. “I like these plants. But why are you in a thick coat?”

“Oh! I don’t feel temperatures. So I can wear my coat all year long. It’s soft. Do you want to touch it?” he offers. Tommy nods and places the watering can down, walking over and touching it.

“It feels like moss.”

“That’s because it is!”

“Oh!”

“Yeah!” Bdubs smiles, letting Tommy play with his coat for a little while longer. “I have some more plants inside if you want to water them with me?”

“Thank you, but no. I enjoyed this.” Tommy smiles, finally dropping the moss coat. “Hopefully I’ll see you around, Bdubs!”

“Bye, Tommy!” he calls, waving and smiling before heading inside.

Tommy walks down the street. It was getting dark, and a part of his mind knows he needs to get back to Phil’s soon. Another part of his mind, the majority that was screaming, told him it was not safe and Phil would hurt him for running away and refusing to wear the awful yellow rubber gloves.

He shudders at the thought of Phil hurting him, but he brushes it off as fear and continues walking.

“Good evening! Would you like some flowers?” a woman in a deep purple sweater and olive green overalls. She has a stuffed purple frog in her pocket.

“Oh, I don’t have any money. I’m sorry,” Tommy apologizes.

“You can look around and place an order that we can reserve for once you get money,” a shorter woman in a bubblegum pink dress replies, bouncing slightly on her toes.

“You sure? I don’t want to waste time or stock,” Tommy mutters. The woman in the pink dress nods and motions for him to follow her.

“I’m Shelby,” the taller woman explains, then points at the shorter and continues, “and that’s Katherine.”

“So what flowers are we thinking of?” Katherine asks. “I’ve got birds of paradise, pansies, dandelions, lilies of the valley, roses, poppies, and a lot more. If you think of it, we probably somehow have it.”

“Can I have dandelions, pansies, and…” Tommy thinks for a moment. “Roses. Yeah. How much would that be? And how long can I keep that reserved?”

“Assuming you just want three of each flower, I’d say about $50,” Shelby explains. Tommy nods. “And you can keep the reserve for up to a year.”

“Okay. Okay! I’ll get $50 sometime within the next year. I’m Tommy, by the way,” he says, bouncing around.

“Okay, Tommy! See you around,” Katherine says. The two wave him off, talking to each other about whether they undercharged him. They seem to agree to not really care.

Tommy was wandering the city. Shops were closing, people were leaving to go home, and the cookie stand from earlier was gone. Now it was pretty dark, but the street lamps lit up the streets. He wasn’t worried about anything bad happening. Bdubs said this town was really safe.

Despite it being June, Tommy finds himself cold. He wraps his arms around himself, walking around, going who knows where. His mind is yelling at him for leaving the safety of Phil’s, but another part is reminding him that Phil wanted him to wear those gloves.

Tommy stumbles across town, seeking warmth and shelter. His legs are weak, and his arms are heavy. He keeps bumping into buildings and almost running into the two people out, mumbling an apology and speed walking away before they can ask if he’s okay.

Because he’s fine. He just needs to get over himself and stop being overdramatic. Tommy should’ve known Phil was like the rest of them. He was just glad that Phil at least made him believe that he loved him first, that he actually cared about Tommy.

For some odd reason it made Tommy hurt a little to realize Phil didn’t actually love him.

But he doesn’t need Phil. He doesn’t need anyone. Tommy has himself, and that’s all he needs.

He keeps repeating that to himself as he falls over from pure exhaustion, landing in a dark alleyway with a sickening thud.

Chapter Text

“What was that?” Lizzie asks after hearing a loud thud coming from outside. Joel shrugs and steps outside the café, noticing jeans sticking out from the alleyway.  

Huh. That ’ s not normal.  

He walks over to the legs and looks down, noticing it’s the blonde boy from earlier. Tommy.   

Huh. That’s even less normal.  

Everyone knew Tommy was Phil’s kid, along with Techno and BITCHASS. Phil was incredibly protective over the three, and he asked that everyone looks out for them too. Obviously they do. It’s a small community, only about three hundred people in the town, if that.  

But for Tommy to be here and not home was very concerning. Something must’ve happened.  

When Tommy came by earlier, Joel thought that Phil knew Tommy was here. His unconscious body laying on the concrete proves otherwise.  

Joel easily picks up the teen despite Tommy being 6’1. He brings him inside and lays him down in a booth. Buddy immediately runs over to lay with him. Big Man Norman follows soon after.  

“What was that noise?” Lizzie calls from the kitchen. Joel walks back there.  

“Tommy, Phil’s kid that came in earlier. I’m going to call Phil to tell him we have him,” Joel explains. Lizzie nods and heads out to the eating area where Tommy lay.  

A phone call and 10 minutes later, Phil is knocking on the locked glass door, illuminated by the dim streetlights. His eyes are red and puffy, and his fingernails are bitten down to bleeding. He scratches his arm, which is incredibly raw and red.  

Joel unlocks the door and hands Phil a cup of warm tea. Lizzie waves from the booth Tommy is sleepy at. Big Man Norman rubs against Phil’s legs, purring and letting out a meow.  

“He’s over here, Phil. We heard him fall in the alleyway right here. Keep an eye on him, and if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call,” Joel says. Phil nods, wiping tears from his eyes. He’s just glad Tommy is okay and alive.  

Joel brings Tommy to Phil’s car and lays him in the back seat. On the drive home, all Phil can think about is how badly he messed up. He didn’t know Tommy hated cleaning gloves that much.   

Well, it doesn’t seem like a hate. It’s most definitely a fear. An anxiety attack inducing fear that definitely should’ve been in Tommy’s file that wasn’t for some odd reason.  

Phil makes a mental note to throw away every cleaning glove in the house. He doesn’t want to hurt Tommy again.  

They pull into the driveway, and BITCHASS is still sitting on the stoop, leaning sleepily against Techno. The older gently shakes him awake, and he jumps and stands. Phil can hear Techno chuckle and mutter a “calm down, it’s okay” to him.  

“He’s asleep in the back seat. Techno, can you grab him?” Phil asks. BITCHASS looks like he wants to protest, but he doesn’t.   

“Is he okay?” BITCHASS asks, digging his nails into his palms. Phil scratches his arm again.  

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. BITCHASS pulls open the door for Techno.  

“Where was he?”  

“In town the entire time. Joel, the guy who runs the cat café with his wife, found him there.” BITCHASS nods and wraps his arms around himself. “Let’s get inside. I’ll make you some hot chocolate.”  

Tommy sits up, gasping for breath. Sand shifts under him, and saltwater gets in his mouth. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t find his footing.  

The dark ocean seems to be trying to swallow him and drag him deeper, away from the cut lights and into the dark of the night. Tommy tries to scream, but saltwater fills his lungs.  

He tries to swim towards shore, kicking off the sandy bottom, but he’s stuck. No matter how much he splashes his arms or kicks his legs, he can’t get any closer.  

“Phil!” he begs, water getting in his nose. “BITCHASS! Techno!”  

The pull of the ocean takes him deeper. Buildings become blurs. Tommy is still fighting the ocean.  

“Please,” he whispers, finally letting himself be dragged under.  

Suddenly Tommy is falling. He doesn’t know where or why or how, but by god it’s annoying and an inconvenience. However it did save him from drowning.   

He finds himself in his bedroom, clutching Shroud and shaking. Phil is there with him. Tommy shoots up and pulls Phil into a hug. He doesn’t hug back.  

“Hey, Tommy,” he says gently. “We need to talk.”  

“Okay, what’s up?” Tommy asks, letting go.   

“I’m adopting BITCHASS and Techno.” Phil pauses. “But not you.”  

“What? Why?” Tommy begs. Phil stands up, and BITCHASS and Techno appear in his doorway. They smile, eyes glistening with hatred.  

“We don’t love you anymore, Tommy,” BITCHASS snarls.  

“We never did.”  

And he’s falling again.  

Tommy is back in that horrible house. There were no windows or doors he could access easily, but that was because he was four years old and very short. Even if he could access them, he was not allowed to touch them.  

“Tommy!” his friend yells, tackling him in a hug. “They’re adopting me! They want me forever!”  

“Oh, Tubbo, that’s so cool!” Tommy exclaims, hugging his best friend tighter. “What about me? Am I being adopted too?” He’s bouncing with excitement. Tubbo stops.  

“No, they said you were too much to work with,” Tubbo explains sadly. “But I bet we can convince them that you’re super awesome and cool!”   

“Tommy, let me explain this in simple terms,” the woman who was going to be Tubbo’s mother says calmly. Tubbo wasn’t in the room. After they tried to convince the two parents to keep Tommy too, Tubbo was sent to his room. “You cry too much for your mother, you’re too clingy, you want all my attention.”  

“But you’re my mommy!” Tommy tries to explain.  

“I am not your mother. Nobody wants a child like you, Tommy. So fix yourself,” she snarls. “You’ll never find someone who loves you.”  

Tommy starts falling again, screaming and crying for Tubbo, the only person who ever got him. He was the only person to understand what Tommy was going through. Tubbo hugged him when he cried, played with him when he was bored, slept next to him when he was plagued with nightmares.  

Tommy obviously wasn’t enough.  

“This is really annoying!” Tommy yells into the void, still falling. He ignores how his voice wavers, terrified and on the verge of tears after having to experience losing Tubbo again.  

The darkness grips onto him tightly, squeezing him until he’s sure he’ll pop. It holds him, threatening to never let go. Tommy claws at his throat, but nothing is there. No hands, just the shadows grasping at him and screaming. Whether the screams are his or the void’s he cannot tell.  

He’s dropped again, back in the white room.  

“No! Get me out of here!” he screams. He’s just six-years-old, and he wants his mom. He wants to go back to where he was before. It was hell, but this was worse. He wasn’t allowed to leave his room or play with any toys.  

“Hush now,” a voice says. Tommy cries and beats on the door. “I don’t want to punish you.”  

“Let me out!” he screams again. His small fists smash against the white door. Tommy starts throwing whatever he can. The small white chair in the center of the room leaves a hole in the otherwise perfectly white wall.  

“Thomas.” The voice is threatening, full of anger. “Why did you do that?”  

“Get me out!” he screams, grabbing at the wall and trying to pull it apart. The door swings open, and he tries to run.  

Unfortunately, a man is grabbing him and throwing him over his shoulder.  

“Don’t make this any harder on me, kid,” he warns. Tommy doesn’t listen. He screams and kicks and hits and bites. The man doesn’t put him down.  

“You’re here because you do not act like other children your age. You are strange, Thomas, and I am going to find a cure,” a voice says. Tommy is in another room now. There is only a chair.  

“I want my mommy back!” Tommy shouts, still sobbing.  

“Your mother is dead, Thomas. She has been for three years. You won’t get her back unless you die too,” the voice spits. This does little to sooth Tommy.   

The room is enveloped in the void with Tommy still screaming and crying and begging.   

“Does anybody love you?” the voice taunts, circling Tommy in darkness. He screams and covers his ears.  

“Give her back!” he screams over and over again. The darkness just laughs and echoes his screams. His voice goes hoarse, but he still screams for the only woman to ever love him to the point of dying for him.  

The voices in the void mock him. They mimic his screams and pleas for his mother and laugh. There is no comfort in the void. Nothing to keep him safe, nothing to make Tommy falsely believe everything would be okay.  

“It’s all your fault, Tommy,” a mixture of voices taunt over and over again, circling him. Tommy sinks to his knees and places his forehead on the floor, ears still covered and him still screaming.  

He isn’t aware that he’s falling once again.  

He lands in his room. The voices fall silent, and he looks up, panicked. He looks around. Everything is normal, and his head hurts like hell. Tommy stands up and looks out the window to see the lime trees swaying in the wind. He sighs, happy that he’s finally out of that hellish nightmare.

Tommy walks out of his room and heads downstairs where he hears Techno, BITCHASS, and Phil laughing and talking. He smiles as he walks down.  

“Oh, he’s awake,” Techno says, monotone. The laughter and smiles stop.   

“Sorry for leaving,” he apologizes, sitting next to Phil. Phil moves away, but Tommy doesn’t notice it. “Is it okay if I just sit here? I had a bunch of bad dreams.”  

“Why are you still here?” BITCHASS snaps. Tommy snaps open his eyes.  

“What do you mean? I- I live here,” Tommy stammers. He tries to stand up, but his legs get tangled on his blanket. Even after desperate attempts to get out of the blanket, he falls and hits his head hard on the coffee table. Tommy winces and brings a hand to his head.

“You aren’t welcome here anymore, Tommy. You’re too broken for us to love you. You ran away because of some gloves? Get a grip,” Phil spits. Tommy looks at Techno desperately, but he just glares.  

“You heard them. Go ,” Techno orders harshly. Tommy backs up, shaking his head.  

“No, no. I didn’t mean too,” Tommy pleas. The three corner him, grinning widely.   

“If you don’t leave, we’ll make you leave, Tommy,” BITCHASS whispers. Tommy shakes his head and scrambles to his feet. Techno tries to grab him, but he ducks and drops the blanket, Shroud still tightly in his arms.  

“Let’s play a game, Tommy,” Phil calls eerily. Tommy shakes his head and fumbles with the locked front door before throwing it open and running as fast as he can.  

“Come on, Tommy!” BITCHASS calls. None of them run. They just walk slowly as Tommy runs as quickly as he can.  

He stumbles on a broken part of the road and flies into the concrete, landing in the void.  

Tommy is screaming. He isn’t aware of it until the door is yanked open and Phil is coming over to him.  

“Tommy, hey, hey, it’s okay. It was just a bad dream, okay?” Phil tries to soothe. Tommy entire body shakes and pushes himself into the corner, clutching Shroud as though she’s the only thing keeping him grounded into this plane of existence.  

“No, no, you said you would never love me and you never did! You called me broken!” Tommy cries. Tears block his vision.  

“Oh, Tommy,” Phil whispers. His heart breaks. “I love you forever and always. You’re not broken. I didn’t mean to hurt you yesterday morning with the gloves. I’ve thrown out every glove like it.”  

“Phil,” Tommy chokes out, falling into Phil’s chest. His entire body shakes with each sob. Phil holds him close, running his fingers through his hair and humming softly.  

The two sit like that for who knows how long. Phil watches the lemon trees out the window stand still. He hums as Tommy’s sobs turn to quiet cries before settling on hiccups.  

“I’m sorry,” Tommy starts.  

“Don’t be.”  

“But-.”  

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to make you wear those gloves.”  

“You didn’t know.”  

“I know. But I still feel bad. Do you want me to stay with you tonight?“ Tommy nods into Phil’s chest. “Okay, I’ll be here for you.”  

The two of them settle into Phil’s nest, Tommy still laying on Phil’s chest and holding Shroud against him. He sniffles and closes his eyes.   

A moment later, he mumbles, “Phil?”  

“Yes, Tommy?”  

“I love you.”  

“I love you too.”

Chapter Text

BITCHASS is a deep sleeper.  

He’s slept through storms, tornadoes, fights, robberies. Back when he was 14, one of his friends told him he could probably sleep through the world ending.  

BITCHASS wakes up to Tommy screaming.  

It shakes him awake, and as soon as his eyes are open, the screaming starts. He’s paralyzed with fear but even more so he’s glad Tommy is alive.  

The sobbing starts a minute later. BITCHASS can’t sleep until they stop. He presses his ear against the wall the two share and hears humming. Immediately he sighs. Phil’s got him. He’ll make sure he’s safe.  

A moment later BITCHASS finds himself at Techno’s door. He’s still shaking from the fear of Tommy screaming, sounding so terrified and alone, and he just needs someone.   

“Techno?” he calls quietly. Techno opens the door not even a second later. He stands there, hair messy from grabbing and pulling it.  

“BITCHASS,” Techno says breathlessly. BITCHASS holds out his arms, and Techno takes that as a sign he can hug him. The two immediately fall to the floor, hugging each other and crying so quietly that if someone heard it they’d think they were imagining things.  

“He’s okay,” BITCHASS whispers, voice shaky. “Phil has him. He’s okay.” Techno just nods into his shoulder, unable to speak. BITCHASS keeps repeating the sentence over and over again, and he can’t tell if it’s for him or for Techno.  

The next two weeks are rough. Tommy keeps waking up from nightmares, usually screaming but always sobbing. He was terrified to sleep at this point.  

There was a night, about a week after he ran away, when Tommy finally slept through the night without screaming or crying. Everyone slept easy that night. Each of them were happy he could finally sleep somewhat peacefully. Tommy never explained his dreams or nightmares, so they would never know how he truly felt.  

Most nights BITCHASS stayed up and played his guitar until around 2 am. He had no clue if Techno or Tommy heard him, but the house was always quiet when he played. BITCHASS liked to believe he was helping them sleep.  

A week after Tommy slept through the night, he knocks on BITCHASS’s door. He doesn’t even bother to stop playing his guitar as he tells him to come in.  

Tommy comes in and lays on his bed, and BITCHASS plays him lullabies. He plays Rises the Moon, Otherside, Remember Me, You Are My Sunshine, Au Claire de la Lune, and many others. Tommy lays in the bed as BITCHASS plays and occasionally sings to him.   

“How’d you learn to play so well?” Tommy asks suddenly. BITCHASS continues playing and smiles.  

“Lots of practice. It took me about two years of playing as much as possible. Most homes didn’t have a guitar, so it wasn’t like I could constantly play. Three years ago I saved enough for one, and I’ve protected it with my life,” BITCHASS says. He starts again with Remember Me.

“Would you teach me?” Tommy asks. “Not tonight. I’m too tired. But soon?”  

BITCHASS nods and ruffles Tommy’s hair. Tommy lays as close as he can to BITCHASS without touching the guitar, closing his eyes and curling up under the blanket.  

“Sleep well, Tommy,” BITCHASS says. A moment later, he’s sure he’s asleep.  

“I love you, BITCHASS,” he mumbles. BITCHASS’s breath stops for a second, shocked at the phrase. Then his heart melts. Not only did Tommy give BITCHASS a nickname, he said he loves him.  

“I love you too, Tommy,” BITCHASS whispers. He continues playing as Tommy’s breath becomes even.   

An hour and a half later, there’s a knock. BITCHASS tells them to come in, and Techno stands there with red puffy eyes.  

“I’m sorry, I can go,” he says quickly once he sees Tommy. BITCHASS shakes his head and moves over as much as he can to make room for Techno.  

“Come lay down. What’s wrong?” BITCHASS asks. Techno lays down and takes in a shaky breath.  

“I had a nightmare. It was about my dad,” Techno explains after a moment of silence. BITCHASS nods and keeps playing, letting Techno decide if he wants to talk or not. “He left me. Ten years ago today. He promised me he’d never see me again and said if I tried to find him he’d pretend I wasn’t his son. I wasn’t good enough for them.”

“Oh, Techno,” BITCHASS starts. Techno shakes his head and plays with his three gold rings. The two gold bracelets he usually wore were on his wrists.  

“No, no. Don’t feel bad. Please. Can you sing for me?” Techno asks. BITCHASS nods and starts singing All is Found.  

Techno falls asleep fairly quickly, holding Tommy’s hand. BITCHASS wishes for a camera so he could capture this moment forever, but he has to rely on his memory.  

The next morning comes quickly for BITCHASS. His sleep was dreamless, but he wakes with a vague feeling of fear and dread. Instantly he relaxes when he sees Tommy and Techno are safe with him.  

He climbs out of bed slowly so he doesn’t wake either of them. Tommy moves a little, and BITCHASS freezes until Techno, still asleep, wraps his arm around Tommy protectively and Tommy calms down. BITCHASS sighs in relief and heads downstairs where Phil is drinking some coffee.

“Morning Phil,” BITCHASS says, rubbing his eyes and yawning.  

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” he asks, preparing another cup for BITCHASS. This was their morning routine now: Phil gets coffee, BITCHASS comes down, Phil makes him coffee, Techno comes down and downs a cup of water, and finally Tommy comes down as breakfast is being made.  

“Pretty well. Techno and Tommy joined me in my room,” BITCHASS explains with a chuckle. Phil slides over the coffee and creamer BITCHASS likes (hazelnut). BITCHASS pours in an unhealthy amount and adds two spoonfuls of sugar.  

“Are they okay?” Phil asks as BITCHASS stirs his coffee. He shrugs and takes a sip, burning his tongue immediately just like every time before. You’d think he’d learn by now to not drink steaming hot beverages, yet here he is, burning his tongue every morning.  

“I don’t know. Plus, it isn’t really my place to say,” BITCHASS answers, trying to make his tone as nice as possible. He didn’t want Phil to think he was angry, and Phil seems to pick up on that.  

“I completely get that,” he replies, nodding. A few minutes pass and Techno walks downstairs, muttering a hello and laying his head down on the kitchen table. BITCHASS fills a glass of water and slides it across the table. Techno catches it without even lifting his head up.  

Phil pulls out the biscuits as Tommy walks into the kitchen, Shroud in his arms. The spider plush didn’t leave his arms most of the time. Not since his first nightmare.  

Not that any of them minded. They just wanted Tommy to fell safe in the house.   

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Phil teases. Techno was more awake now and was messing with Tommy.  

“Phil, Techno’s being an ass,” Tommy complains. Techno laughs and continues braiding the blonde’s hair. Tommy makes no move to stop him.  

“Takes one to know one,” Techno teases, finishing the braid. He takes his hands away, but Tommy leans right back into them, so Techno tangles his hand in Tommy’s hair. Tommy leans into the touch.  

Phil hands out plates of breakfast sausage, biscuits, and fried eggs. He sits down and starts nervously stabbing his food, looking between the three teens.  

“What?” BITCHASS asks. Phil snaps his head over to him before looking back down at his plate, seemingly embarrassed at being caught or just nervous. BITCHASS can feel Phil’s leg shaking underneath the table despite not being seated next to him.  

“Phil, is everything okay?” Techno asks, setting his fork down.  

“Yeah, sorry. There’s just something I need to tell you all.” Phil sips his coffee and clears his throat. “You all know I work at the aquarium and sometimes I work late. Well, I met someone. And we’ve been going on dates for a while now. We made it official about a month ago.”

“Congratulations!” Tommy says, smiling cheerfully. His eyes seem to light up a little bit. Techno and BITCHASS echo his words.  

“Would you like to meet her tonight? We can make dinner and have her over. Nothing fancy, of course. Just remember, you can say no,” Phil reminds them.   

The reminder is something that is said often. In former houses, it was usually a lie and a test. Here, Phil proved time and time again that he meant it. One time he asked BITCHASS if he would do the dishes, but he was feeling far too overstimulated to even think about touching wet food, so he said no. Phil had nodded and did the dishes, thanking BITCHASS for being honest and open.

“I would love to. She seems lovely,” BITCHASS says, and he continues eating. It is true. BITCHASS wants to meet this woman who seems so important to Phil.  

“Me too!” Tommy exclaims excitedly. He’s practically vibrating in his seat as he continues his breakfast.  

“Is she nice?” Techno asks.   

“Very. She asks before touching people,” Phil starts.  

“Let’s meet her,” Techno cuts him off. Phil nods and sends a quick text message to someone, smiling like a teenager in love.  

Dinner comes slowly for BITCHASS. He is so nervous about meeting her. Phil won’t even tell them her name! BITCHASS is pacing around the living room and digging his nails into his palms repeatedly while he wants for Phil to come back with takeout. They all agreed they were far too nervous and excited to focus on cooking.

“BITCHASS?” Tommy asks, peaking at him from the bottom of the staircase. BITCHASS stops immediately and looks up at the fifteen-year-old.  

“Oh, Tommy, are you okay?” BITCHASS asks instinctively. He doesn’t care that he is on the verge of an anxiety attack; he needs Tommy safe and okay.  

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says. “Are you okay?” BITCHASS sinks to the floor and pulls his knees to his chest. Tommy joins him a moment later.  

“No,” BITCHASS admits after a minute of silence. Tommy waits for him to continue. “What if she doesn’t like me? What if she thinks I’m annoying?”  

“She won’t, BITCHASS,” Tommy reassures him. Then, he grins and jokes, “Most people find me annoying at first.” BITCHASS smiles and looks up at him.   

“You are a little shit.”  

“Am not!”  

“Are too.”  

“No I’m not!”  

“You are proving my point.”  

“Phil!”  

They both laugh through the entire exchange, and BITCHASS instantly feels much better. Of course, he was still anxious. He always was when he met new people. Tommy made it all a little better.  

Phil comes back half an hour later with Chinese food. They set out the table and give the woman a special spot at the head of the table directly across from Phil.  

“Okay, she said she’ll be here any minute,” Phil informs the three teens, checking his watch and phone nervously.  

“Phil, calm down, you’re going to give yourself skin failure,” Tommy says. Phil stares at him for a moment, possibly hoping for more context, but then he seems to remember it’s Tommy, so he gives up and resorts to shrugging and laughing.  

“You are a strange one, Tommy,” he laughs. The doorbell rings before Tommy can protest. “Oh! That must be her!”  

All three boys sat in their dinner spots, nervously waiting for the person Phil spoke so highly of all day.  

Then they hear footsteps approach the kitchen.  

In walks a beautiful woman with long black hair and eyes that look like they have hints of purple. She locks eyes with BITCHASS, and immediately he recognizes her.  

She’s the woman who saw him bleed, who treated his injuries, who saved him from Jared. She made BITCHASS want to live again. This was the woman who made BITCHASS realize he could be loved by someone, helped him realize there was good in the world still.  

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Kristin,” Phil introduces.

“Hello, BITCHASS,” she says, smiling the same smile BITCHASS was so used to.  

“Holy shit.”

Chapter Text

“You know her?” Phil asks, baffled. Kristin laughs, a laugh BITCHASS missed without even realizing, and sits at the other end of the table.   

“Yeah, uh, she was my nurse,” BITCHASS tries. “Back in middle school. I saw her almost everyday from 11 to 14.” He tries to meet her eyes out of respect, but she smiles and looks to Phil.   

“Did you keep kicking kids’ asses?” Tommy asks, grinning. Techno snorts.  

“No, actually, I was the one getting my assed kick,” BITCHASS admits with a chuckle, rubbing his arm where the broken beer bottle scarred him three years ago. He shudders at the remembrance of the pain.  

“Just remember, Tommy, if you ever get in a fight, always hit first so it’s self defense,” Techno tells Tommy. Phil gasps and gently hits him.  

“Stay near cameras, prove self defense,” BITCHASS and Techno say at the same time. BITCHASS’s jaw drops, and Techno just has a sly smile.  

“You!” BITCHASS shouts, standing and pointing at Techno. They both laugh, no heat behind the shouting. “You taught me how to fight!”  

“I thought you would’ve figured it out by now. My face has not changed.”  

“So you’re telling me you knew me the entire time?” Everyone is laughing by now. “And you didn’t tell me?”  

“BITCHASS, it was pretty obvious.”  

“The week before you told me that I had actually gotten into a fight. I didn’t hit them first, unfortunately,” BITCHASS explains. “It was some adult pinning this kid to the ground in a group home I was in. The older one was forcing some glove onto the kid, so I decked him in the jaw.”  

“That was you?!” Tommy yells. “That kid was me! I remember you!”  

“Why did we just all know each other?” BITCHASS asks with a laugh.  

“It’s a small world, I guess,” Phil says, finally able to recover from laughing.   

Dinner goes on with all five sharing laughs and stories. BITCHASS finds himself glancing over at Kristin quite a bit. He can’t really believe that she was the one who shaped him into who he was today. She was the reason BITCHASS was still alive, and he thought he’d never see her again after he went into high school.  

“Can cats count consecutive cantaloupes correctly? Cats cannot concentrate cornering celebratory consequences.”  

“What?”  

“What?”  

Tommy stares at BITCHASS while everyone tries to figure out what the hell he just said. BITCHASS blinks, yet Tommy doesn’t. His eyes stay wide as he stares at BITCHASS, and he feels like he can’t look away no matter how hard he tries. BITCHASS tries to stay unblinking too, but twelve seconds later he breaks and blinks, rubbing his burning eyes.  

“How did you do that?” BITCHASS asks, taking a bite of his dinner. Phil and Kristin were grinning too, occasionally glancing at each other when no one was looking. They meet each other’s eyes once and instantly turned red and looked away. Still, both kept glancing at the other, hoping to not get caught again.  

BITCHASS wasn’t very good at reading facial expressions, but he could tell they both loved each other. He smiles, hoping to be loved like that one day. Tommy still stares at BITCHASS, unblinking.  

“I am simply better than you,” Tommy replies after a minute. He was still not blinking.  

“Tommy, eat your food and stop not blinking,” Phil teases. Tommy blinks excessively.  

“Yes, Philza Minecraft. Anything for you, Philza Minecraft,” Tommy replies. Kristin laughs hard, and Tommy faces her, smiling widely.  

“Philza Minecraft?” she asks, wiping her eyes.  

“He won’t explain where it came from,” Phil explains. Tommy turns to look at Phil again.  

“It came from God. It’s me. I’m God.”  

“Tommy stop calling yourself God!”  

“Are you disrespecting God?”  

“Eat your dinner, please.”  

“Yes Philza Minecraft.”  

“That’s not my name!”  

The rest of dinner is full of laughter and jokes and smiles. Tommy continuously insists he’s God, Phil keeps denying it, Techno almost chokes from laughing, BITCHASS almost starts a food fight, and Kristin almost starts a war over what the best breakfast item is. For as nervous as everyone was before Kristin walked in, dinner went wonderfully.  

“I don’t want her to leave,” BITCHASS whispers to Techno during a moment where Tommy was jokingly shouting at Phil. Techno nods in understanding.  

“Me neither, but she has to go home,” Techno explains.  

That’s not what BITCHASS meant.  

BITCHASS doesn’t want her to leave their lives. He wants to come home from school and hear her and Phil laughing in the kitchen, music blaring from a speaker as they cook family dinner together. He wants to know that she won’t leave him again, that he won’t leave her again. He wants to know that she’ll always be there for him like Phil, Techno, and Tommy are. He wants her to be there for them.  

He wants her love to be for all of them.  

Dinner and dessert ends far too quickly. BITCHASS finds himself trying to stall to keep Kristin there in the house.  

“Will you come back soon?” he asks, leaning against the front door. Kristin grabs her keys and wallet from the table in the front entryway.  

“Of course. I’ll talk to Phil about it, okay?” she promises. BITCHASS nods and blinks away hot tears. “Come here, BITCHASS.” She pulls him into a hug, and he doesn’t object. He just doesn’t want to cry on her like he did so often years before. “It’ll be okay. I’ll be back. We won’t have to leave each other again.”

And just like that, she’s gone.  

BITCHASS finds himself waving to her until she’s out of his sight. He feels like he can’t stop waving even after he can’t see her. What if she never comes back? What if they have to leave each other again?  

BITCHASS walks into the nurse’s office. The woman glances up at him and smiles once she notices who is there.  

“Hey, BITCHASS,” she says gently. BITCHASS awkwardly swings the lanyard he had in his hand. The red paper with his teacher’s name and room number has each corner torn off.  

“Hey,” he mutters, not wanting this to happen. He was fourteen now. In three and a half months, he’d be at the high school. He wouldn’t have the nurse to help him anymore. She couldn’t protect him, treat his wounds in a way that wouldn’t hurt.  

“Come to say goodbye?” the nurse asks. BITCHASS nods and wipes his eyes aggressively. He was fourteen now; he can’t cry anymore. “Can I give you a hug?”  

BITCHASS damn near collapses in her arms, sobbing. He’s saying something, but neither of them can actually understand it. It’s nonsense, but it keeps him in her arms longer, so he continues. Soon he can’t even tell if he’s talking anymore, and if he is, it certainly isn’t in English.  

“It’s okay, BITCHASS,” she whispers, running her fingers through his messy curly brown hair. “We’ll meet again. I don’t know where, and I don’t know when, but I know we’ll meet each other. We’ll see each other in the streets or the grocery store. Somewhere. I promise.”

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispers after he has finally stopped crying. He holds her tighter, burying his head in her shoulder despite him being almost an entire foot taller than her.  

“I know,” she says. “I know.”  

It’s not good enough. BITCHASS wants her to say he won’t have to leave her. He wants her to say she’ll move to the high school and see him grow and graduate. He doesn’t want to be alone again.  

“Sit him down on the couch. He’s okay, but I don’t think he’s entirely here now,” BITCHASS hears. He can’t make out the voice though. His brain is still trying to come back to the present.  

“Should we get him something to drink?” someone asks. BITCHASS’s brain is still in the nurse’s office, clutching the light blue shirt that the nurse wore. His hall pass had long since hit his leg as he dropped it.  

“Go get him water,” the first voice suggests. BITCHASS can vaguely tell he’s on a couch now, but that doesn’t make sense. There are no couches in the nurse’s office. Just some beds. Maybe the nurse and him were on beds.  

“BITCHASS? Are you with us?” a third voice calls to him.   

“BITCHASS!” a voice screams. BITCHASS doesn’t bother checking over his shoulder to see who’s screaming his name. It was his 13 th birthday, and Jared ruined it. He wanted his payback, so when Jared hit him first, BITCHASS was glad to hit him back.  

BITCHASS successfully landed a hit on Jared’s nose, causing it to pour blood immediately. That didn’t stop Jared. BITCHASS was stunned for a second, and Jared takes that time to get a hit on his jaw.  

“Your mommy is here,” Jared taunts, swinging his leg around and kicking BITCHASS in the side. He clutches it and tries to turn around to see his mother. A part of him knows she can’t be there. She died when he was six.  

“Fuck you,” he hisses through clenched teeth.  

“Fuck me yourself,” Jared replies. BITCHASS stares at him for a second in confusion. Did he think that through? Or was he serious?  

“BITCHASS? BITCHASS!” the nurse screams as BITCHASS gets hit in the side of the head. All he remembers before he hit his head on the ground was several adults surrounding him and some pulling Jared away as he tried to continue stomping on BITCHASS.  

“BITCHASS?” a voice says. He snaps his head up to see where he is and who’s with him, but his vision is blurred with hot tears. BITCHASS violently rubs his eyes, willing the tears to go away. They don’t listen.  

“Are you with us, BITCHASS?”  

And like that, he’s crashing back into the present.  

Tommy. That was Tommy. No one else called him BITCHASS. In his entire seventeen years of living, Tommy, his little brother, was the only person to ever call BITCHASS “BITCHASS”.   

The simple three letter word is enough to bring BITCHASS out of his memories of Kristin and bring him to present time on the couch in Phil’s living room.  

“Oh,” BITCHASS says, and he’s crying. Immediately he collapses in on himself, sobbing and shaking and not knowing how to stop the tears. No matter how hard he tries, they still end up flowing down his cheeks. If he had still been standing by the front door still, he would’ve collapsed onto the floor.  

Phil, Tommy, and Techno sit close to him as he cries. He doesn’t know why they’ve stayed. All he’s done is be a burden who can’t regulate his own emotions. So he tries to stop crying. He tries so hard so he can let them go and stop annoying them.  

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. Tommy tilts his head to the side in confusion.  

“Why?” Phil asks gently. BITCHASS shakes his head.  

“I’m seventeen. I shouldn’t be acting like this and burdening you,” he manages.  

“Oh, BITCHASS. Can we hug you?” Tommy asks, and he nods. Immediately they’re all hugging him and whispering that things will be okay. He tries to believe them, but some voice in his head convinces him that they’re lying.  

“I want to believe you,” BITCHASS mutters into Phil’s shoulder. “I do, but something in my head says that’s a lie. Everything until I came here has been horrible and lies.”  

“When have I ever broken a promise?” Phil asks. BITCHASS tries to think of a time, but he can’t. In the almost three months they’ve been there, he can’t think of anything.  

“Have I?” Techno asks. BITCHASS keeps the same silence.  

“I know I haven’t,” Tommy states proudly.  

“That’s a lie,” BITCHASS says, sniffling. He sits up, and they all get the hint he wants out of the hug.   

“When have I broken a promise?” Tommy challenges. BITCHASS tries to hide a grin.  

“You promised you’d take my knees.”  

“You still need your knees.”  

“Not with that attitude I don’t.”  

“BITCHASS you’re keeping your knees.”  

“Says who?” BITCHASS asks, sneakily grabbing a pillow and hitting Phil on the head with it.  

This starts a full-blown pillow war . Pillows go flying, furniture is used as barricades and hide-outs. Laughter fills the living room, and BITCHASS’s tears are gone and a distant memory.  

Eventually they all get tired and set up a huge makeshift bed for the four of them on the floor. They all lay down and watch Up as they fall asleep. BITCHASS can’t help but smile when Tommy reaches over and grabs his hand. They all sleep easy that night.

Chapter Text

Techno is very good at pretending. He was raised pretending to be okay and normal, especially after his father left him and his mother died. Boys don’t cry , he was told. It was nonsense, he can see that now, but back then, his father’s words were the truth.  

He sits up with a start, not knowing here he is. The dark room is unfamiliar at best, and he can hardly make out the shapes around him. Everything feels like it’s caving in on him, and he can’t breathe.  

To the outside world, he’s just sitting there.  

“Morning, Techno,” a voice says, pulling a string on a lamp. Techno lifts his hand instinctively to block the harsh light, and there he sees Phil.  

He looks around the room and-  

Oh.  

It’s the living room.  

“Hullo,” he mumbles, standing up. “I’m going to make breakfast.”  

And with that he’s up and headed towards the kitchen. Phil calls out an exhausted thanks, and Techno can hear him fall back onto the makeshift bed they made last night.  

Techno pulls out a pan, the carton of eggs, some bacon, and pancake mix. Butter and seasonings are for later.He finds himself automatically going through the motions, as though he were still somehow asleep.  

“Mama, what are you doing?” he asks, climbing up on a step stool his mother placed near the stove. She laughs ruffles his hair.  

“I’m cooking breakfast, baby. Would you like to help me?” she suggests.  

Techno thinks about it. Helping his mom would be a lot of fun, but what if he messes up and makes everything taste gross?  

“What if I mess up?” Techno asks, playing with his hands. His mother takes them both in hers.  

“We’ll start over,” is all she promises. It’s enough for Techno to eagerly nod his head in excitement.  

She lets him crack the eggs into the pan (clapping and cheering when he managed to not get any she’ll in at all). He claps and cheers as she makes the bacon, and they both laugh when it sizzles and pops. Techno is not allowed near the pan after that.  

Eventually breakfast is ready, and Techno helps bring over the biscuits and butter, both in plastic containers.  

“Mama, I get the forks?” he asks, bouncing on his toes and hitting his wrists together happily. His mother laughs and smiles in response.  

“Go ahead,” she replies. Techno struggles to get the three forks and ends up dropping one.  

“Uh oh,” he says, looking at the fork as it clatters to the ground. He covers his ears, almost poking himself in the face with a fork.  

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay,” his mother reassures him, picking up the fork and placing it in the sink. She holds Techno close until he’s finally brave enough to uncover his ears. “There’s my brave boy.” They smile at each other, happy and content.  

“Thank you again for making breakfast, Techno,” Phil says sleepily, walking into the kitchen. His voice snaps Techno out of his thoughts, and he just grumbles in response, far too tired to respond.  

Techno was not a morning person. He was more of a night owl, relishing in the night. BITCHASS was a morning person, always the first one up out of the three children. It was weird that he wasn’t up yet. Techno shrugs it off as him needing the extra sleep due to the weird panic attack/memory thing last night.

Tommy was neither a morning person or a night owl. He was some weird permanently exhausted pigeon that still had far too much energy.  

The other two members of the household join them soon after breakfast is finished. Phil jokes that Techno’s delicious cooking is what woke them up, and Techno offers a tired smile in response.  

“Holy shit , Techno!” Tommy exclaims, covering his mouth with his hand and eyes widening. “This tastes so good!”  

“Thanks,” he mumbles, reaching for his glass of orange juice.  

Techno doesn’t know how it happened. Maybe he moved too quickly or his arm wasn’t communicating properly with his brain, but one second the glass is in one piece on the table, and the next it’s shattered on the floor.  

Tommy pulls his knees to his chest and starts rocking. BITCHASS grabs Techno’s shoulder. It takes him a minute to realize he was trying to stand.  

“I- I didn’t mean to!” Techno manages. Phil pushes Techno’s chair closer to BITCHASS’s and steps away to get a broom.  

“We know, Techno. It’s okay. It was just an accident,” BITCHASS soothes, letting go of Techno’s shoulder when Techno brings his feet into the chair.  

“It was an accident, Phil. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to! It wasn’t on purpose, I promise,” Techno says, but it sounds more like he’s pleading. He finds himself unable to breathe.  

“Calm down, Techno. Breathe. It’s okay. I know it was just an accident,” Phil reassures him. Techno grabs his shirt where his heart is, shaking his head.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Phil,” he rambles, repeating himself through his panicked state. Techno doesn’t register Phil has swept and mopped up the mess until they’re on eye level.  

“Breathe with me,” Phil tells him gently, making exaggerated breaths. Techno copies him, and after a few moments he can hear BITCHASS and Tommy breathing with him. It makes him feel less alone (not that he’d ever admit that to anyone).  

After the whole glass breaking incident, he stays quiet and excuses himself to his room where he reads the book that his father gave him. Although he’s read the book easily over 50 times, it never fails to ground him and bring him back to reality.  

Techno stays shut in his room for the rest of the day, only coming downstairs for lunch and dinner which he reluctantly agrees. Both meals go by smoothly, and Techno excuses himself to go shower.  

He realizes how wide awake he is despite not getting much sleep the night before due to being woken up every half hour or so for reasons he didn’t know. It was also only 8 pm when he first got in the shower, but he probably had been in there for 30 minutes relishing in the cold water, so that might explain why he was so wide awake.  

Not too much later Phil calls a goodnight to the three, and they all call back, just like every night. Tommy calls goodnight to the other two first, then BITCHASS. Techno never calls goodnight because he’s the last one asleep.  

Honestly, he’s lucky if he gets four hours of sleep at this point. His thoughts were so crowded with images of nightmares and the fact you can’t wake up during them. He was quickly becoming terrified of sleeping. Hell, Techno could hardly blink anymore.  

Techno doesn’t want to fall asleep tonight. He forces himself to stay awake until the sun peaks over the lemon trees out his window and fill his barely decorated room with warm light. His blinds are opened once the sun comes up now that he doesn’t worry about seeing things that aren’t there.  

He isn’t quite sure when he falls asleep, but he’s woken up not too much later with calls of breakfast being ready.  

Two weeks pass and August is just days away. The summer heat would be unbearable if Techno ever went outside. Instead, he stayed in the cool house, staying up until 7 or 8 in the morning before falling asleep because he couldn’t physically keep his eyes open and waking up at 10 or 11 for breakfast.  

Needless to say, Techno wasn’t running on much sleep nor was he taking care of himself.  

To Techno it wasn’t obvious. He was used to getting very little sleep, sometimes going a full day or two without sleeping so he wouldn’t get nightmares. The fear kept him awake until the sun was shining through the window.  

He doesn’t remember how he figured it out. Maybe it was from the multiple all-nighters he pulled when he was younger. Some part of his brain realized that he wasn’t having nightmares (or even dreaming) when he forced himself to stay awake as long as possible.  

Techno knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He knows he should talk to Phil about it to see if he can get some help or over the counter medication that will possibly help him get to sleep earlier or quicker with promises of no nightmares.  

Unfortunately, nightmare resistant medication isn’t a thing yet. Maybe Techno will research and create it once he has the will and the funds for it.   

So Techno keeps pushing himself to his limits, getting three hours of sleep on a good night. Dark lines form under his eyes from the lack of sleep, but if anyone notices, they don’t say anything about it.   

He continues staying up for two weeks. Two weeks of living in constant fear of blinking. What if he sees something he doesn’t want to see? What if he falls asleep just sitting at the kitchen table and they can’t wake up him up?  

What if s fill his head, and he’d rather not take any chances.  

He was doing fine until one day his body decided it had enough. Techno’s legs gave out as he walked out of the bathroom after a shower, causing him to collapse as he was finishing drying his hair.  

He just so happened to collapse in front of BITCHASS.  

“Are you okay?” he whispers, helping Techno up. How he knows Techno doesn’t want this to be a big deal he’ll never find out. BITCHASS just knows things, even if you never tell him.  

“I’m fine,” Techno hisses. BITCHASS obviously isn’t convinced.  

“My room, 11 pm,” BITCHASS tells him. Something in his voice tells Techno it isn’t a question but a demand, and he finds himself nodding and walking into his own room.  

11 pm rolls around after Phil and Tommy have called goodnight. Techno walks over to BITCHASS’s room with shaking legs and knocks on the door after a moment of hesitation and hyping himself up.  

“Come in, Techno,” BITCHASS calls. Techno swallows in a final attempt to calm himself down before he pushes open the door. He stands awkwardly in the doorway, messing with his pajamas, until BITCHASS waves him over.  

“Why did you want me to come in here?” Techno asks nervously. He thinks about lying and saying he was heading to bed, but he knows that won’t convince BITCHASS. BITCHASS is smarter than that.  

“I think you know why.” Techno stares down at the hem of his shirt. “Why did you fall earlier? It isn’t because you’re not eating. You eat with us everyday. Are you not sleeping enough?”  

Techno refuses to meet BITCHASS’s eyes.  

“How much sleep do you get each night?” he asks gently.  

“Three hours on a good day. Usually two, though,” Techno mumbles. BITCHASS let’s out a small gasp.  

“Why haven’t you been sleeping? Did Phil do something?” BITCHASS asks immediately, looking like he wants to kill. Techno chuckles at the sudden protectiveness.  

“No, no, it isn’t Phil. It’s just-.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m scared of having nightmares, so I stay up until I can’t because if my body forces me to sleep I usually don’t dream.”  

The technique wasn’t flawless. Sometimes Techno had really weird dreams or terrifying nightmares, but more often than not there were no dreams. Well, none that he could ever remember.  

“You could’ve come to me or Tommy or Phil and asked to sleep with us. Techno, you know we’d all say yes in a heartbeat,” BITCHASS explains gently. Techno nods and wipes his eyes of tears he didn’t realize were forming.  

“I know, but I felt silly. I’m 17, BITCHASS. These nightmares shouldn’t be bothering me this much. I shouldn’t have to sleep with someone else to feel safe,” he mumbles, sniffling.   

“Oh, Techno. You’re never too old to be bothered by nightmares or ask for support,” BITCHASS explains. “Here, lie down. I’ll sing to you until you’re asleep. How does that sound?”  

“You’d really do that for me?” Techno finds himself asking. He knows the answers; he just needs to know it’s true. Just in case.  

“I promise you. I’ll always be here for you.” Techno situates himself and lies down. “Whenever you want, I’ll be here. If you wake up with a nightmare, I’ll be here. And if I’m sleeping, wake me up.”  

“What if shaking you doesn’t wake you?” Techno asks, stifling a yawn.  

“Slap me.” BITCHASS’s face and tone are serious.  

“Okay,” Techno agrees with a chuckle.  

Twenty minutes pass and Techno still isn’t sleeping. He fears BITCHASS will be angry with him, but he continues playing quietly, allowing Techno to lean into his leg.  

“Techno?” BITCHASS whispers a short while later, stilling playing. Techno hums in response, eyes still closed. “I want you to come in here when you can’t sleep, okay? Just so you know you aren’t alone.”  

It’s optional. Techno can tell that just by BITCHASS’s tone. Even if Techno can’t tell tone very well, something about BITCHASS makes it incredibly obvious. Every part of him wants to say no, that he’ll be fine, but he can’t do that to BITCHASS. No matter how true he thinks it is, he refuses to deny BITCHASS vocally.  

“Okay,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”  

BITCHASS continues playing as Techno thinks over what he said. It’s a lie, and he knows it. He fears BITCHASS can tell it’s a lie too.  

Chapter Text

“Techno, I have an idea.”  

Techno doubts it’s a good one because it’s Tommy speaking to him. He looks up from a book Phil gave him and peers over his square glasses, raising an eyebrow. Tommy is bouncing with joy.  

“Should I be concerned?” Techno asks, still staring at him. Tommy nods, and Techno places his book on the couch.  

“Absolutely!”  

“This should be fun. What do you have in mind?”  

“We’re going to drive a tank.”  

Techno stares at Tommy. Tommy nods and bounces still, grinning widely. Techno blinks.  

“No we are not.”  

The next thing he knows, Tommy is climbing up on the table. Techno stares at him in surprise and shock, and Tommy just grins and attempts to hold back a laugh (which he isn’t doing very well).  

“What are you-?” Techno starts.  

“I’m literally in a tank, and you’re not,” Tommy cuts him off. Techno can’t help it. He immediately bursts into laughter, and Tommy quickly joins him, almost falling off the table in the process. It wouldn’t be a far drop (less than two feet), but Techno still instinctively reaches out to catch him.  

“A tank? Really?” Techno teases. Tommy nods while still laughing. His laugh fills the room with brightness and happiness that Techno didn’t realize it was lacking. He finds himself smiling.  

“Yeah! Tanks are awesome, big man,” Tommy replies after he finally catches his breath.  

“Oh, yeah?” Techno asks, sitting back down on the couch. He knows what he’s getting himself into; he knows that this could send Tommy into a full blown rant about tanks. It’s happened before with so many other things, mainly films.  

“The first prototype was created in 1915,” Tommy says, sitting next to Techno. “Not too sure on anything else. It’s not my area of expertise.”   

“Tommy! Can you come here? I need help with dinner,” Phil calls from the kitchen. Tommy jumps up and gives Techno a two finger salute.  

“That’s my call. See you, big man.” And like that, he’s gone.  

Techno stands up with a huff and heads upstairs to search for his book. It was a book full of Greek gods and goddesses, a gift from his father for his sixth birthday. The margins were filled with different colour inks he’d used over the past eleven years to make notes.

Once in his room, he immediately goes to the spot it always was in: the drawer next to his bed. After just a glance, he could tell it wasn’t there. The top drawer held his book and nothing else, and now it was empty.  

Techno freezes. This can’t be happening. How did he lose his book, the one thing he has from his father besides the memories and nightmares? How could he be so stupid ? It’s not a small book by any means. How did he manage to lose it?  

That book was his prized possession. It kept him safe in the foster homes he had been in; it had stayed with him for years. On several occasions it was stolen, but Techno knew how to make himself look scary, and he got it back.   

His first thought is that Tommy or BITCHASS stole it. But they couldn’t have. They had items like this themselves, so they wouldn’t be stupid enough to take it. Especially because Phil would actually do something about it.  

Techno crumples to the ground and curls in on himself, trying not to cry, trying not to remember. His memory failed him on so many other things, but it frequently reminded him of the memories with his father.  

“Good morning, son!” his father shouts, throwing up the curtains. Techno sits up and tries to blink the sleep away. His father was only loud on five special days of the year: Christmas, Halloween, his birthday, Techno’s birthday, and his mother’s birthday. Even since her passing, he’d wake Techno up with the same shouting on his mother’s birthday, and they’d go give her food.  

“Morning, Father,” Techno replies sleepily. He climbs out of bed, rubbing his eyes, and his father leaves him to change.  

The room was filled with only sunlight, and it was still early (Techno assumes around 7 am), so it was hard to see. Electrical lights were not allowed on in the house. His father claimed that electricity was far too new to be trusted. Techno believed his father. Why would he lie to him?  

A few minutes later, Techno is dressed and heading downstairs where his father has set out a delicious meal of pork and eggs. The pork was covered in a thick sauce.  

“This looks so good, Father. Thank you,” Techno says, trying to sound as sincere as possible. His father had frequently become angry with him when his tone wasn’t right, and he didn’t want his father to be mad today.  

“Happy birthday. Would you like your present before or after breakfast?” his father asks. Techno thinks for a moment.  

He could get his present and mess with it now, or he could wait until after he ate his delicious birthday breakfast. If he opened his present, he knew he’d get caught up with it, and his meal would go cold.   

“Let me eat first. I don’t want this to get cold,” Techno replies with a smile. His father nods and goes about his morning chores, completing some of Techno’s too.  

Not much later, Techno had finished his breakfast and was eagerly waiting for his present. His father presented him with a single wrapped rectangle. Techno’s eyes widened in curiosity and awe.  

“What is it?” he asks, still bouncing and looking up at his father.  

“Open it and find out,” his father urges, grinning down at his son. Techno smiles back and looks back down at the gift.  

Gingerly, he takes the paper off. A leather bound book is revealed with the words “Greek Mythology” written in gold calligraphy across the top. There is nothing else on the book.  

Techno picks it up, examining all sides of the book, trying to not break it. There’s nothing. He opens it and flips through the pages. At the very end is a message from his father:  

“Happy sixth birthday, son. I hope I’ve made it special.”  

For the first time since his mother died, Techno hugged his father. His father accepted after a moment, hugging his son back for the last time.  

Techno realizes he’s crying now. Memories of when his father always made him cry, and he usually tried to forcibly stop himself. This time he lets the tears come pouring out of his eyes. His hands are tangled in his hair, pulling it at the roots. The feeling hurts, but it takes his mind off his father.

He tears apart his room in an attempt to find the book. It has to be here, it has to be. Nobody came into the room without him knowing, and nothing left the room unless it was of his own accord.  

Techno almost lets out a scream in frustration when a little voice in his head reminds him, “Phil can help you.”  

He stops throwing things around his room in a failed attempt to find the book. His hands stay in his hair, tugging and pulling harshly, but Techno realizes the voice has a point. Phil helped with everything. He made the house safe and promised he’d always listen. Even when the first month was hard, he never gave up on them.  

It’s still hard now, but Phil being Phil has made life so much easier.  

He didn’t have to be so kind to Techno. Phil could have been rude and annoying and not accepted Techno because he was weird and wasn’t like any other teen. He could’ve asked for a different child, one who was more normal.  

Techno hates the word normal. He can’t tell why, but the word tastes like poison. Maybe once he’s calmed down he’ll try to research something he’s been meaning to look up since he was 12 years old.  

But for now, he needs the book. His book. In order to do that, he needs Phil.  

He runs downstairs, looking for Phil. Techno finds him in the kitchen. Tommy is cooking, and Techno feels a surge of happiness and excitement. He loved when Tommy cooked because he was incredibly good at it.   

Not the point.  

“Techno, are you okay?” Phil asks. Techno shakes his head and begins pulling his hair again, on the verge of tears. “ Shit . Tommy, can you handle doing this by yourself for a little?” Once Tommy nods, Phil and Techno leave the kitchen.  

“Book,” Techno whimpers. It’s all he can manage right now.  

“Calm down, it’ll be okay. Whatever is upsetting you, we’ll figure it out together. We’ll fix this together. You’re not alone. Breathe with me,” Phil says. Techno nods, and the two breathe together for a few minutes. Finally, Techno has stopped crying and can breathe, but he’s still anxiously pulling at his hair.  

“My book,” he tries again. “It’s gone. I- I don’t know where it is! My father gave it to me, and I lost it, and I need it back, and- oh God, what if it’s gone forever?”  

“We’ll find it. You checked your room already I’m assuming.” Techno nods. “Where else have you read it?”  

Techno thinks for a second before answering, “The living room and the dining room table.”

He doesn’t know why he was reading in there. In the three months he’s been living there, they haven’t had dinner in the dining room. They all ate at the table in the kitchen. The dining room was fancy, and it was quiet, so Techno read in there.  

“Okay, that’s a great start!” Phil praises. Techno finds himself giving a small smile and melting at the praise. “Would you like the living room or the dining room?”  

“Dining room,” Techno replies immediately. Phil nods, and they go searching for his book.  

His book that his father gave him. He fucked up and lost it, lost the one thing he has left of his dad (besides the memories and the nightmares). If his dad knew, he’d be so disappointed. Techno’s had it for more than half his life (11 years, nearing 12), and he’s lost it so many times. Kids try to steal it, but he always gets it back.

It never leaves his eyesight if he can’t find a safe hiding place.  

Usually the book is under his mattress, but Phil proved that he could be trusted and it was safe to have the book in his drawer. But now it’s lost, and Techno can’t help but think that moving it out of the safety area was a good idea.  

He doesn’t know how long he’s been standing in the dining room, but he starts looking immediately, much more gently than how he searched his room. Everything stays intact, and nothing is sprawled across the floor.  

Still, he can’t find it.   

His hands go to his hair again, tugging harshly so he doesn’t break anything or hurt anyone else. He just wants his book.  

“Techno, I found it! Can you come here?” Phil calls. Immediately his hands drop, and he’s running to the living room at full speed, almost knocking Phil over. Luckily Phil is awesome and cool and smart and wonderful, so he catches Techno.  

There, on the floor slightly under the couch with a blanket next to it, is his book.  

Phil doesn’t touch it, and Techno feels bad for being glad. This is his book , the final thing from his father. He thinks he might break if Phil had touched it. Techno doesn’t know how Phil knows that, but he’s grateful either way.  

The book goes back under his mattress. Techno swears to not let it leave his room again.   

He’s going to have to clean his room later.  

Dinner goes by quickly without any issues. Everyone’s laughing and joking, and, like always, Tommy did a wonderful job on cooking. Techno knows it’s the same recipe Phil uses, but maybe it just tastes so much better because his brother made it.  

Techno freezes at the thought.  

He called Tommy his brother.   

Tommy isn’t his brother.  

This is a temporary placement, and soon Phil will get tired of him being annoying and hard to handle, and he’ll send Techno back. It happens every time. Just when Techno starts feeling safe and welcome, they send him away again. Who’s to say Phil’s any different?

So Techno stays quiet for the rest of dinner and excuses himself quickly. He heads upstairs, showers, pulls out his book, and reads until he passes out.   

“Good morning,” his father says. Techno was already awake, terrified, unable to sleep all night. The night before his father had gotten angry, much angrier than usual. He yelled that he was sick and tired of Techno being the way he was, and he yelled words that Techno later learned were slurs.  

“I’m sorry,” Techno whispers. His father glares at him and tells him to pack a bag.  

The trip to wherever they were going was long. They first walked from their small house in the middle of the forest to the main road Techno wasn’t allowed to go on. His father climbs into something, and Techno shortly joins after. He later learns that this was a car.  

Once at the place Techno’s father drove them too, Techno realizes that this is real. He’s being given up. His father didn’t want him anymore.  

“Father, why?” he cries, tears streaming down his face.  

“You’re far too much for me to handle,” his father explains in a tone so gentle that Techno knows it’s full of hatred. “I don’t want you anymore.”  

“Please, Father, I’ll be good for you!” Techno yells. His father finishes doing whatever he was doing and gets onto eye level with his seven-year-old son.  

“Your mother would still be here if it weren’t for you,” his father snarls.  

“I didn’t do anything!” Techno exclaims. He doesn’t remember his mother very well, but he does know she died when he was very young. How could Techno have killed her?  

His father hugs him one last time, whispering six words that would haunt Techno for years.  

“I promise we’ll never meet again.”

Chapter Text

Tommy was nervous. This nervousness wasn’t like the usual nervousness he had buzzing in the back of his mind. It was different; it was justified.  

“Phil?” Tommy asks, hands shaking. Phil hums in response. “Why- why are you so nice? Even when we cry and scream, you’re so patient and kind and understanding. I- most people would’ve kicked us out. You don’t. I guess I’m just confused.”  

“You deserve kindness, you deserve patience, you deserve to have someone understand you. You boys are so special, and you deserve all good things you get,” Phil answers. Tommy nods, the slight nervousness still buzzing in the back of his head.  

“You know we’re not normal, right?” Tommy asks. Phil nods. “Why aren’t we normal? What makes us different to other people?”  

Tommy had his suspicions. He knows he wasn’t normal, but he also knows that normal is a stupid word created by ableist misogynistic people. Nobody is normal, and he knows that. He would just like to know how he doesn’t fit into the societal view of “normal”.  

“Well, your file says that you may have Asperger’s. Do you know what that is?” Phil asks. Tommy freezes.

“Yes, I do. Asperger’s is a term created by Hans Asperger, a man who worked with Nazis to send disabled children to a place where they’d either be killed or experimented on. Asperger’s is used to say high-functioning autism, which is ableist in and of itself. Functioning labels, severity labels, level labels, and Asperger’s are all ableist terms,” Tommy says calmly. His voice was still dripping with anger.  

“Tommy, I-,” Phil starts, but Tommy cuts him off.  

“You’re treating us differently because a file says we could be labeled with an outdated term. None of us know about this label, by the way. We were never told. And you’re treating us differently,” Tommy goes on. Phil waits for Tommy to carry on, but he doesn’t.  

“No, I am not treating you differently because of that. You asked me what made you different from what society deems normal, and I said what your file said,” Phil explains. “However, it wasn’t right for me to use an outdated and ableist term coined by a Nazi.”  

“You still did, Phil. That’s the problem. You used the term. Was the person who wrote that autistic?” Tommy asks, voice raising.  

“No-,” Phil starts.  

“Did they write ‘person with Asperger’s’?” Tommy says louder. Phil nods. “Exactly. These people think that autism is an illness that can be cured when it’s fucking not, Phil! Autistic people can’t be cured! These fuckers think they can be!”  

“Tommy, calm down,” Phil tries to soothe. Tommy jerks away despite Phil not moving.   

“No! No, you don’t get to tell me to calm down!” Tommy shouts before turning around and running upstairs.  

Phil says nothing.  

A moment later, Tommy is knocking on BITCHASS’s door. Tears burn his eyes, and he wipes them away, not wanting BITCHASS to think he’s upset. Tommy opens the door, and there BITCHASS stands. He breaks and starts crying.  

“Tommy! Are you okay?” BITCHASS asks. Tommy shakes his head, and BITCHASS leads them inside his room.  

“Phil- he said- and it-,” Tommy attempts to say, but he keeps hiccuping and can’t get a sentence out. He grabs his hair and shouts in frustration.  

“Calm down, Tommy. Breathe with me.” They spend few minutes of breathing together, and BITCHASS continues, “Okay, what did Phil say?”  

“We aren’t normal, and we all know that. I decided to ask Phil if he knew why, and he said-,” Tommy takes a deep breath, “he said our files say we have Asperger’s.”  

“Phil said what?” BITCHASS asks, voice dripping with poison and hatred.  

“He said he didn’t know but he didn’t even listen to me! I didn’t even know I was assessed for autism! And the person who wrote our file wrote ‘person with autism’ as if being autistic isn’t part of someone but an addition to them,” Tommy rants, tears forgotten. BITCHASS nods.  

“Can I come in?” Techno asks from the doorframe. BITCHASS looks up and nods, and Techno shuts the door once he’s inside. “Have you considered that maybe he didn’t know? Phil is obviously not autistic, so he couldn’t have known.”  

“That still doesn’t make what was said okay. Sure, Phil didn’t know, and he needs to apologize, but he’s not entirely in the wrong. It’s whoever the fuck wrote Asperger’s on our files,” BITCHASS argues. Techno nods and sits down on the bed.  

“Let’s go downstairs and calmly talk with Phil. Nothing productive comes from arguing and shouting,” Techno suggests. BITCHASS nods.  

Tommy hesitates.  

Phil hurt him. He hadn’t meant to, but he hurt him. And Tommy yelled at Phil. What if Phil decides to send them back and it’s all Tommy’s fault?  

Tommy nods.  

The trio head downstairs, Tommy clutching Techno’s hand. BITCHASS had his hand resting on Tommy’s shoulder.  

“Hey,” Phil says gently. Tommy avoids his eyes.  

“We have to talk. The conversation between you and Tommy was not healthy. Shouting gets no one anywhere. You each owe each other an apology,” Techno explains. Both Phil and Tommy nod.  

“I’m sorry for yelling at you, Phil. It was wrong of me,” Tommy mutters, reciting the apology engrained in his head.  

“No, Tommy. Not that apology. I know she made you believe that was the only way to apologize, but it’s not. Try again. Be sincere,” BITCHASS pushes. Tommy gulps and looks up, not quite meeting Phil’s eyes.  

“I’m sorry for yelling. I should’ve listened to what you had to say and not immediately assume you had bad intentions. You aren’t autistic as far as I’m aware, so you couldn’t have known you were being ableist,” Tommy says.   

“I forgive you, Tommy. And you’re right, I’m not autistic. I didn’t know that that term wasn’t correct, and I apologize for that. In the future, I will try not to use it,” Phil apologizes. Something about the last sentence doesn’t sit right with Tommy.  

“I forgive you, Phil,” BITCHASS says. Techno nods.  

“I forgive you, too,” Techno adds. They look to Tommy.  

“I don’t forgive you,” Tommy blurts.  

“What the fuck, Tommy? He apologized to us, and he said he’ll fix himself,” BITCHASS argues. He drops his hand from Tommy’s shoulder and stands higher. Techno squeezes Tommy hand.  

“No, he didn’t. He said he’d try not to use an ableist term. A term that was put onto autistic children back in the 1930s and 1940s by someone who was practically a Nazi so they could be killed or experimented on!” Tommy shouts. “It’s not that hard to not use ableist language.”  

“It is, Tommy! A lot of people use ableist language, and it’s hard to drop habits,” BITCHASS says.  

“That doesn’t make it okay!” Tommy shouts.  

“Boys, please stop shouting. As Techno said, shouting solves nothing,” Phil interrupts. “Tommy, you don’t have to accept my apology. It is completely okay to not accept apologies.”  

Tommy lets out a breath of relief. Phil wasn’t mad at him for declining his apology. He wants to talk to Phil more before he can accept the apology.  

“Can I go back to my room please?” Tommy asks. Phil nods, and he has to try not to run to his room.  

Once there he throws himself onto his bed and cries. He trusted Phil. He trusted Phil to never hurt him, and while the pain wasn’t physical, it hurt. God it hurt. Hearing Phil say that word hurt Tommy in ways he didn’t know he could hurt.  

Tommy thought Phil would be different. It turns out he was just the same as everyone else.  

Tommy tries to stop his tears, shaming himself for crying. It doesn’t work. If anything, it makes more tears stream down his cheeks.  

He doesn’t know how long he cries, but once he’s done, intrusive thoughts swarm his head.  

What if it’s a test? What if me rejecting his apology was wrong and now I’m being sent back? Is this a test? Will everything be okay? Will Phil keep Techno and BITCHASS once I’m gone? Did I fuck up so badly that Phil will send them back? Am I a bad person? Is this all my fault? Could I have somehow prevented all of this?  

Tommy covers his ears to try and stop the thoughts to no avail. The thoughts keep coming, and they overwhelm him. He finds Shroud and hugs her close to his chest. After a while, the thoughts slow, and he feels like he can breathe.  

Shroud in his hands, he gets out of bed. His clock reads 10:16, so Phil should be awake. Plus he knew that Tommy wanted to talk to him, so he’d probably stay up until Tommy came in. Tommy shakes as he walks downstairs to Phil’s bedroom.  

He knocks once, twice, three times.  

The door opens.  

“Can I hug you?” Tommy blurts out as soon as he sees Phil. Phil nods, and Tommy throws himself into his arms. “I’m so sorry for being angry with you. You didn’t know that was wrong, you didn’t know what you were saying was wrong. You trying to not use the word is enough, and I’m so sorry I said it wasn’t.”  

“Tommy, you don’t have to apologize for getting upset. You were right. I shouldn’t be using ableist language even if it’s what I’m used to. Being used to saying something doesn’t make it okay. It’s still wrong. I will never use those terms again, I promise,” Phil says.   

“It’s okay, Phil. I forgive you, I forgive you, I forgive you,” Tommy repeats. He repeats his forgiveness over and over again as he lets tears fall. It’s the first time in a long time he remembers allowing himself to cry and not feel shame.  

“You don’t have to. Please don’t forgive me if you don’t want to. Don’t forgive me because you think you have to. Tommy, I hurt you . I don’t want you to think you have to apologize to make me feel better,” Phil explains, crying himself.   

“I do forgive you. I forgive you with my whole heart,” Tommy whispers.  

The two sink to the floor, holding each other and crying for several minutes. Despite being so vulnerable, tears spilling from his eyes, he feels safe.   

In Phil’s arms, Tommy is safe.  

Eventually they stop crying and just hold each other. Phil is whispering things to Tommy, but Tommy can’t understand the words. It’s comforting nonetheless.  

Tommy starts to fall asleep at some point, jolting himself awake seconds later and clutching Phil’s shirt tighter each time. He felt so horrible about making Phil upset and not forgiving him because Phil didn’t know. Despite his reasoning being justified and valid, he felt bad.  

At some point he is lifted. Part of Tommy wants to giggle at the thought of 5’10 Phil carrying him, 6’1. Another part of him realizes how safe he feels being held by Phil. That part of him knows Phil won’t ever hurt him intentionally.  

“Phil?” Tommy mumbles. Phil hums in response. “Can I sleep in here tonight?”  

Immediately Tommy sends himself into fight or flight mode. Why did he ask Phil that? Tommy is far too annoying. He’ll never say yes. God, why can’t Tommy just-  

“Of course, mate.”  

Moments later, they’re both comfortable. They give each other plenty of space, and Tommy was incredibly close to passing out just standing there while Phil made the bed.   

“Phil?”  

“Yes, Tommy?”  

“I’m sorry for shouting at you earlier. I know I already apologized, but I feel like I should say it again.”  

“Why do you feel that way?”  

“I feel bad.”  

“And?”  

There’s silence for a moment.  

“I don’t think I deserve the forgiveness.”  

Phil sits up. “Tommy, you do deserve the forgiveness. I upset you, and I wasn’t listening, so you did what you thought was right. Yelling isn’t okay, and we’ll work on that, but I’m so proud of you for realizing what was wrong.”  

“But I made a mistake.”  

“You’re human, aren’t you?”  

There’s more silence. Tommy yawns, eyes still closed.  

“Goodnight, Phil.”  

“Goodnight, Tommy.”  

More silence.  

“Phil?”  

“Yes, Tommy?”  

“I love you.”  

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

Phil broke the news two weeks before.  

“I have something that needs to be said.” All three of them sat on the couch, nervous. A part of Tommy was a little angry and scared because he might say something ableist again. “School starts in two weeks. You all must attend.”  

“Will we all be in the same school?” Techno asks. Phil nods. “Okay, I’m okay with it.”  

“No separation?” Tommy asks. Phil nods again. “You promise?”  

“Of course. I will never lie to you,” Phil assures him. Tommy nods.  

They all agree to not talk about it unless necessary.  

The next two weeks go by far too quickly for Tommy’s liking. One day it feels like he has two weeks, and the next it’s the day before school begins. He has all of the things he’ll need including his new schedule.   

After taking a quick tour of the school so he knows where his classes are, he’s sitting on the couch, completely drained. Even talking feels exhausting, so he simply doesn’t. He just curls up on the couch, staring into nothingness while Phil cooks.  

“Tommy, BITCHASS, Techno! Dinner’s ready!” Phil calls. The three trudge into the kitchen, all of them exhausted from having to talk with people all day.   

BITCHASS was still talkative, but he let Phil talk most of the time. Techno would chime in with occasional jokes or short sentences, but otherwise he’d stay silent. Tommy felt like if he had to speak he’d probably explode.  

 “Tommy, are you okay? You’ve been quiet all of dinner,” Phil points out.  

Tommy wishes he’d explode.  

Instead, he nods. He could probably force himself to speak, but that honestly seems tiring and unnecessary. Plus, he can communicate without words. Nobody really liked when he did that, but usually he was too drained or upset to care.  

“Oh, do you not feel like talking?” Phil asks. Tommy freezes. Was he going to say something bad again? “That’s fine. Don’t force yourself to talk.” Tommy slowly nods.  

Tommy doesn’t sleep for more than an hour straight that night. He wakes up thinking about school. Mostly he’s just glad he was lucky enough to go to the tour. Other schools he went to he couldn’t get a tour.  

Finally 7:30 rolls around, and Phil is knocking on his door, calling his name. Tommy gets dressed in jeans, a white shirt with red sleeves, and black Converse. He kisses Shroud goodbye before heading to the bathroom to do his morning routine in there.  

A few minutes later, he’s downstairs eating breakfast with Phil, BITCHASS, and Techno. Tommy is still a bit shaky about having to go to a new place, but he knows he’ll get used to it eventually.

“After school, I will pick you up in the same place I dropped you off. This won’t change ever. If I don’t pick you up, I’ve already talked to Kristin, and she said she can pick you guys up if ever needed,” Phil explains.   

“What if I get lost?” Tommy blurts.   

“Tommy, I am a human GPS. Stay at your last class, and I’ll come get you,” Techno says. He turns to BITCHASS and says, “You too.” They both nod.  

The car ride to the school is long and quiet. Tommy kept bouncing his knee and squeezing BITCHASS’s hand. Every know and then Techno would turn around and give them both smiles. They were all nervous wrecks.  

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, they make it to the front of the school. Dozens of other kids were sitting around the doors, laughing and talking. Some walked straight into the building, and others were marking bikes. One kids parked their motorcycle.  

“Goodbye, boys. I’ll be write here after school,” Phil promises. The three nod and grab their backpacks before climbing out. They wave to each other, and Phil drives off to work.  

Then they were alone.  

Well, not really. They had each other, but this new place was big and terrifying and made Big Man Tommy feel very small and scared.  

“Let’s head in. There’s a lot of people here. Maybe we can find our classes again,” Techno suggests. BITCHASS and Tommy immediately nod.  

The three didn’t have a single class together unfortunately, but Techno and BITCHASS shared English. Luckily, Phil was able to talk to the principal and got them the same lunch. Otherwise, they were on their own.  

“BITCHASS, what’s your first class?” Techno asks. BITCHASS shakily pulls out his schedule and points to the top class.  

“Uh, band, room A145,” BITCHASS replies. Techno looks to the door to his right, A125, and the door in front of him, A127, then started walking. BITCHASS and Tommy follow at his heels.  

Moments later, they arrive at BITCHASS’s first class. A guy with a full blown beard and an electric guitar stands next to the door.  

“Hey, BITCHASS, right?” he asks. BITCHASS nods. “I’m James. Is this your first year here?” Another nod. “It’ll get easier, I promise. Especially with band being your first period. Everyone here is really nice, and if they aren’t, let me know. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you,” BITCHASS answers. Tommy somewhat recognizes James from the tour yesterday. He was the one who let BITCHASS try his guitar.  

“Are these your brothers?” James asks, pointing to Techno and Tommy.  

“Yeah, this is Techno,” he points to Techno, “and this is Tommy.” Tommy waves, very much aware of his stupid smile after being referred to as BITCHASS and Techno’s brother.  

“Okay, I have to take Tommy to his class. Have fun. We’ll see you at lunch,” Techno says after a moment. BITCHASS nods and waves to the two. They wave back, and BITCHASS turns to talk to James some more.  

“Tommy, what’s your first class?” Techno asks. Tommy pulls out his schedule.  

“Math, room A113,” Tommy replies. Techno starts walking, and Tommy almost gets lost in the people.  

“It’s an advanced math course,” Tommy explains. Techno nods. “I really like math. If it was allowed, I think I’d be in pre-calc instead of algebra 2.”  

“I have no doubt about that. You’re wonderful at math. Remember, this class will have other sophomores and some juniors, so you’ll probably be one of the youngest,” Techno tells Tommy, stopping in front of a door. The label reads Class A113: Mr. Mumbo .

Tommy checks the time and realizes he has three minutes before he’s forced to go in. He looks to Techno who nods in encouragement.  

“I’ll see you during lunch. Library?” Tommy asks. Techno nods.  

“Library.”  

With that, Tommy walks in.  

Immediately he notices the short guy from the cookie stand talking to the tall kid from the petting zoo. Now, the kid from the petting zoo had split dyed hair: half of it was jet black and the other half was snow white.  

“Hey! You’re Tommy, right? My older brother and I gave you those cookies,” the shorter one says. Tommy nods, unable to remember this kid’s name. “I’m Tubbo, by the way. In case you forgot.”  

“I’m Ranboo,” the tall kid says.   

“I like your name. And your hair,” Tommy points out. Ranboo tugs at his hair, as though he forgot it was there.  

“Oh, thanks,” he says. “Uh, by the way, I use he/they pronouns.”  

“Cool,” Tommy replies, making a mental note of it. He didn’t know people could do that, but if it makes someone happy, he’ll try his hardest.  

A few minutes later, the bell rings, and Tommy sits next to Ranboo. Mr. Mumbo, a very tall man with a black mustache, walks in. He is wearing a suit which Tommy finds slightly odd.  

“Hello, class,” he says. “I’m your math teacher, Mr. Mumbo. If you don’t like math, I hope to change that and help you. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. I don’t bite. Now if I was my best friend, Grian, that would be a different issue.”   

The class laughs at this after Mr. Mumbo let’s out a chuckle. Tommy can tell he’s going to love this class already.  

“Alright, roll call. Ranboo Beloved?” he calls, searching the classroom.  

“Here,” Ranboo says. Mr. Mumbo nods and compliments his hair.  

For every name he calls, Mr. Mumbo gives a compliment. It makes Tommy rock side to side thinking about what he’d get complimented on. His voice? His hair? His eyes?  

“Thomas Innit?” he calls. Tommy raises his hand.  

“I go by Tommy,” he states. Mr. Mumbo nods and writes something down.  

“I like how bold you are. And you’re shirt.” They both smile.   

“And finally, Tuberculosis Underscore,” Mr. Mumbo reads. Tubbo raises his hand.  

“Can you call me Tubbo? Please?” he asks timidly.   

“Of course. I like your horns.”  

Tommy didn’t even notice the horns Tubbo was wearing. They were obviously attached to a headband, but it still made Tubbo very happy. Tommy smiles at him, but Tubbo doesn’t notice.  

The rest of the class is all introductions. Tommy then goes to English, science, history, lunch (where Techno and BITCHASS rambled about their days so far), Spanish, and then culinary.  

Walking into culinary, he recognizes the pink haired woman from the petting zoo over the summer. He pauses and stares at her for a moment before shrugging and heading to a random seat.  

“You were at the petting zoo a few weeks ago, right?” she asks, sitting next to him. He nods. “Well hi, I’m Ms. Nihachu.”  

“Tommy,” he replies, smiling at her. She nods and hands him a clipboard and pencil.  

“Can you check off your name for me please? If your name is something different on here, just cross it out and write what you prefer,” Ms. Nihachu says. Tommy nods, crosses out Thomas and writes Tommy , and puts a check mark next to his name before sliding it back.

That class period was just about safety and basic rules and please, please, please don’t try to put out a grease fire with water. Tommy assumes Ms. Nihachu had to deal with that more than once.  

His final class period is art. He needs to fine arts credit, so he chose art because it seemed really fun. His teacher, Mx. Aimsey, was also incredibly nice.  

At the end of class, Mx. Aimsey got the entire class silent. Tommy doesn’t understand how they did it, but they were kind of scary despite not even being 5’0.  

“Class, I know today is the first day, but we do have a project that is due in two weeks. I want to get to know everyone, so I made it easy yet somewhat personal.” They pays for dramatic effect. “I want you all to draw a family portrait.”  

“What if we don’t like our family?” one kid asks.  

“Then draw your chosen family. This can be your friends or your pets,” Mx. Aimsey explains.   

After a few minutes of answering questions and explaining, Mx. Aimsey hands out a large piece of white paper. They pause in front of Tommy for a moment, looking like they want to say something.  

“I won’t pity you or treat you any differently just because you’re a foster kid, okay? You still have the same expectations as every other student. However if you don’t want to do this assignment, I won’t make you,” Mx. Aimsey explains.  

“I want to. I really do,” Tommy replies immediately. Mx. Aimsey simply smiles and places the white paper down in front of him.  

A minute later, the bell rings. Tommy stands outside the door, waiting for Techno and BITCHASS. After what seems like an eternity, they show up. BITCHASS stares at the floor, and Techno is holding his hand and swiping his thumb across the top of it.  

“Ready?” Techno asks.  

“Yeah. I have a project for art,” Tommy says.   

“Oh yeah? What is it?”  

Tommy considers telling them about the family portrait, but wouldn’t it be so much cooler if they didn’t know for now?  

“You’ll see,” he says. Then quietly to himself, “You’ll see.”

Chapter Text

Family.  

By definition, it means “ a group of one or more parents and their children living together as a unit.”  

Notice how it doesn’t say family must be blood. Family is not always blood. You can be family by adoption, fostering, or simply by being friends. Whoever you considered family is your family. Fuck definitions, fuck laws, fuck the government. Family is what you make it.  

If they’re family to you, that’s all that matters.  

BITCHASS notices this after the first week of school is done.  

He notices the small things that make them a family: the consistent routine, the inside jokes, the way they look at each other. They go to each other for help, they listen to each other’s interests, they cook for each other.  

They love each other because they’re family.  

Yes, sometimes they mess up, but that’s okay. Nobody is perfect, and at the end of the day, all that matters is their love for each other.  

BITCHASS and Techno have the same English class, so they share all the same assignments. On the first day, they were told they had to write an essay about their family. It would be due one week later on the next Monday.  

Of course, BITCHASS being as responsible as he is, hasn’t started.  

He needs to watch his family first; he needs to figure out what things they do that are oddly similar despite them not being blood. BITCHASS decides to take notes of it during the weekend.  

For one, BITCHASS, Techno, and Tommy all hate loud noises, bright lights, being touched, and having people come into their room without asking, but BITCHASS assumes those are trauma responses, so he decides not to write that.  

But they all look oddly similar to Phil and Kristin. Tommy smiles like Phil, BITCHASS smiles like Kristin, and Techno got a mix of both.  

Tommy looks so similar to Phil while Techno and BITCHASS look like Kristin’s twin sons.  

They’ve all adopted each other’s humor, which BITCHASS only notices Friday night at dinner whenever Kristin is over.  

“BITCHASS, can you pass me the butter, please?” Kristin asks.  

“No,” BITCHASS replies, handing her the butter.   

“Thank you,” is all she says.  

“That’s my joke,” Tommy says, but instead of being angry, he’s smiling.  

“I really like it,” BITCHASS replies, continuing to eat. Tommy sits back, smiling still.  

“He likes my joke,” he mutters to himself. BITCHASS keeps his eyes down, but he too smiles.  

After dinner, BITCHASS notices they also have a weird way of communicating. Kristin, who was staying the night for the first time, was the one who points it out.  

It starts with Tommy whistling quietly. Phil responds, whistling something similar in response. Once he’s done, BITCHASS whistles the beginning of a tune but stops, and Techno finishes. Soon they’re all exchanging happy, excited whistles.  

“You’re communicating,” Kristin observes. They all stop. “The whistles. It’s your way of communicating. That was a happy conversation. Here, BITCHASS, come here.”  

BITCHASS walks over to her and takes the seat next to the couch.  

“Whistle something angry,” she whispers in his ear. He nods and lets out a low, deep whistle. Tommy’s face drops, and Techno moves closer to him.  

Phil whistles a soft tone, and Tommy tries his best to mimic it. Even though they know Kristin simply asked him to whistle something and BITCHASS didn’t really feel angry, they still tried to soothe him.  

“Do you understand now? You’ve made nonverbal communication. You can tell what one of the others is feeling purely by whistles. It’s wonderful, it’s fascinating,” Kristin explains. BITCHASS whistles happily, and the others relax instantly.   

“We’re like birds!” Tommy exclaims. Kristin laughs.  

“Yes, my bird brain boys,” she answers.  

BITCHASS thinks about the whistling a lot. They really were like birds. He also thinks about how Kristin called them her bird brain boys. Phil and Kristin were still just dating, nothing more and nothing less, but to be called her bird brain boys made BITCHASS feel soft inside.

The whistling seems to happen more now. Happy whistling during meals, upset whistling when something goes bad, pained whistling when there’s too many noises. They communicate that way more, and they understand each other.  

BITCHASS also notices they don’t need words or even whistles to communicate.  

“Techno?” he calls. A neutral whistle from the kitchen. BITCHASS walks in to see him sitting at the table, working on something. “What’s wrong?”  

Techno doesn’t verbally respond. He simply motions to the paper. BITCHASS looks at it and realizes it’s math.  

“Troubles with math?” Techno nods, and BITCHASS sits next to him and begins explaining.   

Sometimes Techno would shift closer to BITCHASS, and BITCHASS would know that he understood. When Techno would shift away in any direction, he didn’t understand. He’d sometimes hunch over and glare at the table, and BITCHASS would take a minute to let Techno breathe and calm down.  

BITCHASS wasn’t good at reading body language or tone, but Techno, Tommy, Phil, and Kristin were different. They were incredibly obvious, and it made BITCHASS happy when he could understand when they were upset.  

James is the one who points out the next seeming obvious detail.  

“You and your brothers copy each other’s movements,” he points out one day. The two were sitting in BITCHASS’s room messing with their guitars. They weren’t practicing (for once); they were just hanging out.  

“Do we?” BITCHASS asks, playing a few random chords. James nods.  

“Yeah. When you shift while sitting, they usually do too. I don’t know, man, but it’s cool to watch,” James explains. BITCHASS nods. “I understand why you wouldn’t notice. I mean, you’ve been living with them your entire life.”  

BITCHASS lets about a laugh. James raises a confused eyebrow, and BITCHASS realizes he’s never told James about his living situation.  

“Oh, no, I’ve only been with them since May. I’m a foster kid,” BITCHASS explains.  

“Mind if I ask why?” James asks. BITCHASS shrugs.  

“My mom died when I was little, and my dad was never in the picture. Once my mom died, I was sent into foster care because I had no surviving relatives.” James gives him a look he can’t quite read. “I don’t know if you’re trying to give me a sympathetic look, but don’t. Please.”  

“Okay,” James says, and he drops the look. “Do you think you’ll be adopted?”  

“I hope so,” BITCHASS admits. “I think of Techno and Tommy as my brothers. Phil’s my dad. They’re my family, even if not by law.”  

“I get it. That’s how I feel about my friends,” James says. BITCHASS nods. He has some friends he’d consider family, too, but no one was as important to him as Techno, Tommy, Phil, and Kristin.  

“Yeah,” BITCHASS answers, not quite knowing how to continue the conversation.  

Luckily, James realizes that and quickly changes the topic and begins teasing BITCHASS on his hand placement for certain chords. BITCHASS grins and continues with the banter.  

It's nice having a friend like James. Sure, they had other friends from their music class like Mark, Ash, Joe, and Leandra, but hanging out with James was different. BITCHASS feels like James knows what’s going on in BITCHASS’s messy brain.  

“You’ve totally got younger brother energy,” James says one day out of the blue. The six of them were just lying around in Ash’s room when he said it, so it wasn’t like Techno had come in to speak to them.  

“Elaborate,” BITCHASS says, sitting up from the bean bag he was lying on.  

“Mm, no,” James mutters, laying back down on Ash’s bed. Ash throws a pillow at him.  

“I’m the oldest sibling!” Instantly everyone begins laughing. “What!? I am!”  

“Sure you are. And I play harmonica,” Leandra manages between laughter.  

“Well at least I’m older than Tommy,” BITCHASS grumbles, laying down and crossing his arms. Ash raises an eyebrow, and BITCHASS sticks his tongue out at him.   

“See! Little brother energy,” Mark shouts, pointing at BITCHASS.  

“I’m the second oldest here! What do you mean?” BITCHASS jokingly argues, grinning the entire time. He chucks a pillow at Mark.  

“But genuinely, have you seen how him and Techno interact? They always tease each other but the second someone says shit about the other or God forbid Tommy, they are defending the person with their life,” James explains.   

“They’re my brothers. Of course I’d defend them. I’d walk through hell for them,” BITCHASS mumbles, turning red from embarrassment.   

“You care for your brothers. That’s really sweet,” Leandra says. “I have a sister, Zoe, and I’d protect her with my life.” She shrugs. “It’s what siblings do.”  

BITCHASS finds himself thinking about that a bit too hard. They’re all brothers. Not legally, not yet, but in their hearts they all know they’re brothers.  

They like the same things, they steal their personalities from each other, they steal jokes, they accidentally came up with ways of communicating nonverbally, they kind of look like each other. In public people would often think they were blood related. People would call them Phil’s sons.  

Phil never corrected them.  

“BITCHASS?” Tommy asks on Sunday, knocking on his bedroom door.   

“Yeah, what’s up? Is everything okay?” BITCHASS asks as soon as his opens the door, worry lacing his tone.  

“What? Yeah, everything’s fine. Want to come with us to get ice cream?” Tommy asks, giving a small smile.   

BITCHASS has his shoes on in fifteen seconds.  

The two run out the front door to the car, laughing and playfully arguing about nothing and everything all at once. Mainly ice cream flavours.  

“Tommy doesn’t think that chocolate is superior,” BITCHASS says as soon as he climbs into his seat in the car.  

“Because it isn’t! If we’re going for the basic Neapolitan ice creams, strawberry without the chunks is way better,” Tommy argues. BITCHASS pats his head.  

“It’s okay to be wrong, Tommy,” he teases. Tommy immediately bats at his hand like a cat, and BITCHASS giggles before pulling his hand away.  

“Phil, can I dye my hair pink?” Techno blurts. Phil shrugs.  

“I don’t see why not. It isn’t against dress code, is it?” Phil asks. Techno shakes his head. “Okay. Whenever you’re ready we can.”  

“Why pink?” Tommy asks with genuine curiosity.   

“You’re blonde like vanilla, BITCHASS is brown like chocolate, so I should finish off the Neapolitan ice cream trio,” Techno explains.  

“We should get our hair ice cream colours,” BITCHASS suggests. It wouldn’t make sense to anyone else, but everyone gets it.  

“Wait, what about Phil?” Tommy asks.  

“Butter pecan,” Techno replies immediately. “He’s old."

“Mate, I am not that old!” Phil defends. At the same exact time, all three teens give him a pointed look.  

“Uh huh, old man, sure you aren’t. How old are you again?” BITCHASS asks, leaning forward in his seat. Phil pulls into a parking space in front of the ice cream parlor and turns around to stare at BITCHASS for a moment.  

“I plead the fifth,” he says before climbing out.  

“That’s just proof you’re old!” Tommy shouts, jumping out of the car.  

The four walk into the parlor with the three teenagers insisting Phil is ancient and shouldn’t walk without being surrounded in case the wind turned him to dust.  

“For you, sir?” the woman behind the counter asks, looking at Tommy.  

“A vanilla scoop in a cup, please.” 

“And you?”  

“Strawberry sugar cone.” 
 
“Alright, how about you, sir?” 

“Chocolate in a waffle cone.”  

“And you?”  

“Butter pecan in a cup, please. Thank you.”  

Phil’s response sends the three teens into a flurry of whisper-shouts and pointing, declaring that Phil just proved he was an old man.  

“I bet Phil is so old he doesn’t even have his bones,” Tommy whispers, barely loud enough for Phil to hear but not loud enough for the woman behind the counter to. Phil snorts.  

After he pays, they all go sit outside so the three boys can be loud and not disturb anyone. As soon as the door shuts behind them, BITCHASS and Tommy begin shouting about Phil’s age.  

“Calm down,” Techno says with a serious face. They stop, but he smirks before continuing, “You being loud may cause him to go deaf.”

“What?” Phil asks. They all start laughing immediately. “Oh. I guess I walked myself right into that one.” Phil grins.  

Over half an hour later, they’re back in the car on the short ride home. BITCHASS rests his head against the window while he thinks about his essay he needs to do. Maybe he’ll include the ice cream.  

“Next time let’s include Kristin,” BITCHASS suggests. He smiles to himself. “Maybe she’ll help Phil realize he’s old.”  

“I’m not old!”

Chapter Text

BITCHASS wakes up Monday morning anxious. Of course he does. Today he’ll be reading his essay about family with a family member in the room. What if Techno hates it? What if the teacher hates it? What if everyone hates it and they make fun of him? What if he misunderstood the assignment?  

He simply sighs to himself, getting out of bed. Why did these obnoxious thoughts have to bombard him as soon as he woke up? Give him a break.  

BITCHASS does his upstairs morning routine before heading downstairs to do his downstairs routine. Like always, Phil was drinking his coffee. He nods in BITCHASS’s direction as he goes to make him some coffee.  

“Thank you,” he mutters, laying his head down on the table. His nerves were getting the better of him, and he just wants to sleep.   

A moment later, Phil places down the cup of coffee in front of him. It’s not as dark as Phil’s by any means, but it’s just the way BITCHASS likes. He smiles and thanks Phil again, sipping the coffee.   

“Morning,” Techno says, pulling a glass from a cabinet. He walks over to the fridge and gets himself his usual glass of water. “Are you prepared to read your essay, BITCHASS?”  

“Essay? On what?” Phil asks, placing his now empty coffee cup in the sink and pulling out pans for breakfast.   

BITCHASS and Techno both know they can reply with a simple “nothing” and Phil would drop the topic immediately and not push. It still impressed them that Phil would never force them to do things they weren’t comfortable with.  

The two trade a look and nod. Phil stays patiently silent.  

“Family,” is all Techno replies with. Phil turns around momentarily.  

“Are they forcing you to write about family? Were either of you offered an alternative assignment?” Phil asks.  

Phil knows that family can be an upsetting topic for Techno and BITCHASS. Unlike Tommy, they were old enough to know and remember their parents before they died. Their deaths were never discussed, but the option to talk about it was always there.  

BITCHASS missed his mother severely. He wasn’t very old when she died, just six-years-old, but he still has some of his best memories with her. She was a wonderful mother, but some unidentified man took her from him far too early. Even after eleven years, he hasn’t been found.  

His father wasn’t in the picture at all. He doesn’t know when he left or if he was ever present, but BITCHASS didn’t remember him either way. A part of him doesn’t know if he wants to remember him.  

He’s brought back to reality by the smell of waffles. His least favourite breakfast food.  

“Phil, is it okay if I make myself some cereal?” he asks, although he knows the answer will be yes. Years of being taught to live in constant fear and mistrust doesn’t go away in three and a half months, much less without a therapist.  

“Of course, mate,” Phil answers, making a plate for himself. BITCHASS is grateful he doesn’t add that BITCHASS never has to ask. It makes him feel gross and uncomfortable in a way that words can’t describe.  

As he pours the cereal in first, Tommy walks into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes. He calls out a faint good morning before getting himself a glass of water and a plate of food.  

Soon enough, they’re all sitting together and eating as a family. BITCHASS then smells burning.  

“Do you guys smell that?” he asks, and sniffs again. The family sniffs the air. “Something is burning.”  

“I turned off the stove, didn’t I?” Phil asks himself, standing to check the stove. Sure enough, it was turned off.  

“Oh my God, BITCHASS,” Tommy says, pointing down at BITCHASS’s bowl of cereal. He looks down to see it smoking.   

“How did you burn cereal ?” Techno asks in disbelief. They all stare at his bowl, jaws dropped.  

“I don’t know,” he admits, and Phil makes him a bowl of cereal. This time it doesn’t burn.  

“You are so terrible at making food that you burnt cereal,” Tommy teases on the car ride to school. BITCHASS laughs and reaches over to lightly hit him on the head.  

Later, lunch comes, and the three are sitting in the library together. Like usual, they’re quietly talking about their days and assignments and annoying teachers.  

“I’m really anxious,” BITCHASS finds himself admitting. It’s a huge step. Usually, he bottles his emotions up until it’s too late and he explodes and has an anxiety attack.   

“About?” Tommy gently pushes. Techno sends BITCHASS a look that tells him he doesn’t have to talk about this.  

“I have an essay in English about family. It’s really personal to me, especially because I remember my mom. We’re reading them out loud today, and I’m scared people will make fun of me because of what it says,” BITCHASS explains slowly, not used to voicing his anxious thoughts. Even just simply vocalizing the thoughts help.   

“Well, if anyone is mean to you, I’ll personally fight them. How does that sound?” Tommy jokingly asks. BITCHASS smiles at his younger brother.  

“I’d liked to see you try,” BITCHASS jokes. Tommy lets out a fake offended gasp, and they both begin to giggle quietly. BITCHASS can see Techno smiling out of the corner of his eye.  

“But seriously,” Tommy says once he’s able to stop laughing, “if anyone is rude to you, just know that whatever you said was amazing and valid. Don’t take criticism from someone if you wouldn’t take advice from them.”  

“When did you get so wise?” BITCHASS asks thoughtfully. Tommy lets out a small laugh.  

“I stole that quote, BITCHASS,” he says. BITCHASS smiles.  

“It’s still a fantastic quote.” Then, after a moment of comfortable silence, “Thank you, Tommy.”  

“Of course. You know, we’re just like brothers.”  

“Don’t say that. I will cry.”  

Seventh period comes far too quickly for BITCHASS’s liking. By the time he’s sitting in his seat for English, his nails are bitten down. He knows he has nothing to be anxious about, he knows the essay is wonderful, but he can’t help the anxious thoughts that take over him.  

Luckily, he doesn’t have to go first. He can finger through his multi-page essay on his family. Some part of him wonders if he should’ve talked more broadly or about different people. Another part of him reminds him that these people were his family.   

They’re his family. He doesn’t care what anyone says. Nobody can change his mind on this because to him it’s simply a fact. These people are his family, and he’ll make sure everyone knows that.  

Everyone will know about BITCHASS’s family. They’ll know stories, happy and sad, and they’ll know every person’s names. People will hear one of his family member’s names and say, “Oh, they’re related to BITCHASS ABUSER!”   

As long as BITCHASS can speak, he’ll say his family’s names. He’ll say every name over and over until they don’t sound real.  

“Very good. Next person?” the teacher calls. BITCHASS shakes himself out of his thoughts. “Any volunteers?” He looks down, avoiding eye contact more than he usually did.  

BITCHASS hates teachers who do this. They usually do it with optional questions instead of required assignments. The teachers will pick on any child they’d like only to yell at the child if they don’t know. These teachers make school hell for everyone.  

“BITCHASS ABUSER,” the teacher says after a minute. BITCHASS freezes for half a second, thinking he was in trouble, but a sudden surge of confidence pulls him out of his seat and up to the beige wooden stool that put him higher above his peers. It doesn’t help that BITCHASS is incredibly tall.  

BITCHASS hesitates for a moment before he begins reading.  

He talks about his mother, the woman who birthed him and gave him his name. Each word is heavy, full of emotion.  

“My mom died when I was six,” he begins. Everyone holds their breath. “If my father was ever in the picture, I would’ve gone to him for help and comfort. But he wasn’t. My father, who’s name I’ll probably never know, decided that my mother and I weren’t important enough to stay.   

“From what I’ve been told over the past eleven years, I have no surviving relatives. As soon as my mother was murdered by a random man, I was thrown into foster care. Over the next eleven years, I’d go through six families. I’m now on my seventh.  

“When I was younger, I’d get angry when any person mentioned their mother. I was used to not having a father, any grandparents, any relatives. My family was me and my mother, and we were happy. After she died, I didn’t think that other people should be happy. I was sad and without a mother.  

“Then, I went into foster homes. Some were kind and gave me love, but they couldn’t help me. Others were mean and decided that I was too much of a handful and let me, a small child, fend for himself. They were neglectful, and I usually wasn’t there for very long.   

“None of my families have made me feel loved or safe. After being in so many homes, I still haven’t felt safe or loved.”  

BITCHASS pauses for a moment, searching for Techno. Techno makes quick eye contact and nods, encouraging him to carry on. BITCHASS nods back, takes a deep breath, and continues.  

“At the end of May this year, I was put into a home. When I was put in the home, two other teenagers were put in with me. I was angry and upset because I don’t like change. These were a bunch of random people I was being forced to live with.  

“The person who brought us in, Phil, taught us all about love and safety and boundaries. He has helped me and the two other teenagers learn to love and trust again. Every moment I wish I could thank him for everything, but that would be exhausting, so I thank him occasionally.  

“Those teenagers are my brothers. We are not blood related, but they are my brothers.” BITCHASS avoids everyone’s eyes. “I love them with all my heart. Nothing can change that fact that I love them. I’d do anything for them. Anything.  

“I hope-,” he tries, choking back tears. BITCHASS takes a minute to stop crying. “I hope that my foster father adopts me and my foster brothers. They’re my family, and I love them. I wouldn’t want a family if it couldn’t be them.  

“Family is different for everyone. For some, it’s the two people who helped create them. Others say their friends are family. My family is not considered family by law yet, but in my heart, they’re my family.”  

BITCHASS finally stops. He sits there, unsure of what to do. Someone he doesn’t recognize starts clapping. Soon the entire class joins them, and then everyone is clapping. Techno smiles at his slightly younger brother and claps the loudest.  

Eventually the clapping stops, and BITCHASS is thanked for his “touching essay on what family is to him” and told to sit down.  

His ears are ringing as he sits down. He can’t even hear who is called next, but it isn’t Techno, so he honestly doesn’t care. It may be selfish, but BITCHASS needs to calm himself down from a near anxiety attack before he can focus on anything else.  

He wants Techno right now, but they were seated alphabetically, so he couldn’t be with his brother. BITCHASS almost cries for some reason, but he closes his eyes and focuses on his breathing. He knows he’ll be okay; he just needs a moment to calm down.  

Public speaking always makes BITCHASS want to cry. Letting him have a moment to calm down helps him a lot. Not pressuring him also helps.  

Honestly, the thing that helps him the most is not making him do public speaking.  

However, sometimes he has to do public speaking, so he does.  

After a moment, he’s calm. Luckily, it’s just as Techno is called up to speak. He gives him all of his attention. Techno takes a shaky breath, looks to BITCHASS who gives him a thumbs up, nods, and begins.

Chapter Text

Techno actually enjoys public speaking. He knows not everyone does, but he does, and he likes that he does. It leads to funny conversations where people insist he can’t enjoy public speaking.  

Whenever the teacher calls his name to read his essay, he’s up and out of his seat faster than the first kid was. Techno was excited to read his essay about his family. Sure, it might not be as long as he wanted, but he doesn’t think the entire class wants to hear him ramble for twenty minutes. So, he keeps it short and sweet.  

“At age seven, I began to question what family really was. My father gave me up because I was too much, my grandparents passed before I was born, both my mother and father were only children, and my mother died when I was just three-years-old. Why did my family have to be so small? Why did I have so many dead relatives? Why did my father abandon me?  

“I’ve only been in three homes in the past ten years. People have refused to believe that. When I was seven, I was placed in a home for two years before they realized they couldn’t afford me. Once I left there, I was placed in a different home until I was fourteen. They thought I was a trouble maker, so I was sent to a group home until my fifteenth birthday. On my sixteenth, they sent me back.  

“By now, I was convinced I’d never have a true family. All these other kids in my school had loving parents, and some of them had siblings who would tease them or play with them. I was sixteen years old with a dead family and nobody to love me. My world was shattered and filled with horror and fear. At sixteen I was alone.  

“In May, I was brought to a new family with two other boys. One of them was my age. At first, I was terrified and angry. This was change, and I didn’t like it. What if they sent me back? What if my foster father liked my foster siblings more than he liked me and sent me back and kept them? It’s the horrifying thoughts that kept me awake at night.  

“I was scared that they would hate me. Then we started becoming closer. I’d read my foster siblings books and tell them stories when they couldn’t sleep. As a family, we’d listen to music. Our favourite thing to do was listen to our brother play his guitar. On more than one occasion that guitar has put me to sleep.  

“Everyone in the family is kind and understanding. We respect each others’ boundaries, we work together, we love one another. It’s nothing like what I’m used to. We’re a family of strange people, and I love all them.  

“For once, I love someone. I love multiple someones. We’re a family of misfits, and that’s more than I could ever want.” Techno looks up from his paper and meets BITCHASS’s eyes before finishing, “I love them, and I want them to be my forever family.”  

The class claps for him, and the teacher calls him brave for talking about his past. Kids give him sympathetic looks, but Techno ignores them. He doesn’t want their pity. He’s seen it so many times before.  

Nobody knows how to react when he admits he’s a foster child. They don’t know what to say when he explains that his grandparents died long before his was born, that his mother died from some disease he can never remember the name of by the time he was three, and that his father gave him up when he was seven.  

Sometimes they ask why he doesn’t try to find his father. They don’t seem to understand that his father abandoned him with promises they’ll never see each other again. Techno’s father wanted nothing to do with him, so in return Techno wants nothing to do with his father.  

Part of him wishes he remembered his name so if he heard the name anywhere, he’d be able to run. Maybe he’d search for his father if he had the name. Maybe it would hurt more.  

But he doesn’t know his father’s name, so he doesn’t search. He lets that chapter of his life remain untouched and unbothered. His father doesn’t search for him, and he doesn’t search for his father.  

Techno misses his mother quite a bit. He was very young when she died, so he only has a handful of memories of her, but he holds those memories close. All of his memories with his mother are written in the book his father gave him. The final pages that were blank when he was six are filled with memories so Techno never forgets his mother.  

She was beautiful and kind from what little he can remember. Her hair was blonde just like his used to be when he was young. If Techno messed up, she’d gently correct him. In her eyes, her son was perfect.  

The three lived a happy life for the first three years. Even after she was diagnosed, she stayed strong and quiet about the illness so her son never thought anything of it. According to a letter she wrote that was meant for adult Techno that he found a month before his father gave him up, she wanted his last memories of her to be happy.  

She died shortly after he turned three.  

Doctors claimed she would have three months to live. She was diagnosed three months before Techno turned two, and she passed two and a half weeks after he turned three. All she wanted was to see him grow up, and she never got that.  

His mother knew she wouldn’t live forever. She knew she’d die at some point; she just didn’t want it to be so early in his life.   

In the final lines of the letter, she apologizes for leaving him so early. She tells Techno to write her letters even though she’s passed. The final line is her telling him how much she loves him and how she’ll always watch over him.  

The letter stays in the book that Techno’s father gave him.  

Every now and then, he’ll read the letter, cursing anything he can think of. Why did she apologize for something she couldn’t control? Her death was not her fault. He cursed the universe for taking his mother too early.  

Techno loves his current family. He loves Phil and Kristin and BITCHASS and Tommy with his whole heart.   

He still just wants his mom back.  

But he can’t have her, so he’s happy with his current family. They’re not perfect, but they’re Techno’s.  

And Techno is theirs.  

Techno is snapped out of his thoughts by the bell ringing. The teacher is yelling over everyone that those who didn’t go today Will go tomorrow. Techno ignores her, grabs his bag, and grabs BITCHASS so they can get Tommy.  

“Wait, Techno, BITCHASS!” their teacher calls after them. They both stop and face her in sync.  

“Yes, ma’am?” they both ask in unison. Techno makes himself look slightly taller. If she was going to yell at them, he’d rather it be directed at him. Plus, people are more intimidated by taller people for some reason.  

“Your essays were beautiful. I know you two are both in foster care, so this essay must’ve been incredibly difficult for you two,” she says.   

“Thank you,” BITCHASS interrupts, “but if the essay was hard for either of us, we would not have done it. You gave us that option, and we both denied.”  

“Well, yes, I’m aware, but-,” she begins.   

“But nothing. It was not difficult for either of us. If that is all you wanted to talk to us about, we Will be leaving,” Techno interrupts. They both stand there and wait for her to reply.  

“No, that’s not all. Your essays were wonderful and very well written. There is a competition for the school where you can submit these essays if you’d like. Of course, I would never force you, but the option is there,” she explains. Techno and BITCHASS exchange glances.  

“Can we talk outside about this quickly?” Techno asks. The teacher nods, and they both walk out.  

“It would be cool. I want to,” BITCHASS says immediately. Techno nods in agreement, and they both walk back inside. Their teacher stares at them. Probably because they were gone for less than a minute.  

“We both would like to,” Techno says. Their teacher nods.  

“Okay, here are the pamphlets about the competition. Have your...guardian sign it, okay?” she says. They both nod and take the pamphlet.  

“Tommy, Phil, and Kristin Will be so excited to hear about this,” BITCHASS says as they run to get to Tommy’s class in time. Techno nods as they approach the classroom. Tommy walks out as soon as they reach the classroom, and he looks slightly startled.  

“Hey, Toms!” BITCHASS says, slightly out of breath. Tommy’s face falls into an easy smile.  

“Hey! Did you two just get here?” Tommy questions. BITCHASS lets out a breathless laugh.  

“Yeah. Listen, once we get home, Techno and I have something really cool to tell you, Phil, and Kristin,” BITCHASS explains. Tommy’s face lights up, and he begins running to where Phil usually gets them. Today Kristin was also coming with him, so Techno would have to sit in the back seat between his two brothers.  

“Tommy, wait!” Techno calls as he chases after his youngest brother. He hears BITCHASS groan as he starts running after them both.   

They all three almost collide with the glass doors leading to the pick-up line, laughing and out of breath. A car horn honks, and they jump before laughing again.  

“Hello, boys! How was school?” Kristin asks as the three pile in. She turns around as BITCHASS shuts the door behind him.  

“It was super cool! Techno and BITCHASS said they had something they wanted to say, though,” Tommy replies, grinning at his two older brothers. Techno tries to catch his breath as he buckles himself into the middle seat.  

“Our teacher wants us to submit our family essays to a competition. She thinks we’d do good,” Techno simply explains. BITCHASS nods eagerly.  

“We both said yes. Although she was kind of weird and told us she knew how hard this must’ve been because we’re foster kids. She gave us the option to not do the assignment! Doesn’t she realize that if it was going to be hard, we just wouldn’t have done it? It makes no sense to me,” BITCHASS rambles. He puts his seatbelt on and runs his fingers through his hair.  

“People are weird,” Phil agrees, pulling out of the pick-up line. “Do I have to sign anything in order for you two to be allowed to submit your essays?”  

“Yeah, but we’ll deal with all of that once we get home,” BITCHASS says.  

“I also have something for you to sign, Phil,” Tommy blurts out. He looks oddly nervous.  

“Okay. I’ll sign it once we get home. Thanks for telling me,” Phil says. Tommy seems relieved that Phil didn’t ask what it was for. Techno was incredibly curious, but he decides to let it go. If Tommy wants them to know, he’ll let them know on his own time.  

The drive home is nice. Sure, they don’t sit in their usual comfortable silence, but when Tommy and BITCHASS are excited, it’s never quiet. Plus, when Kristin came around, everyone was a lot more talkative. Even Techno. He really doesn’t like talking (sometimes), but there was just something about Kristin that made all of his thoughts spill out.  

Maybe Kristin is magic.  

Techno smiles at the thought. Obviously, Kristin isn’t magic. She just is nice and kind and listens to everyone. It makes Techno happy. In an odd way, she reminds him of his mother.   

Kristin was just wonderful. Techno was so happy that Phil found her, and he was even happier that they all loved each other so much. Kristin made Phil happy. She made BITCHASS happy and Tommy happy and Techno happy.  

And that’s enough, isn’t it?  

Chapter Text

The day finally came for the competition. Within the next few hours, they would be getting word about whether or not they won any prize. Only three people could get gold, five people could get silver, and ten people could get bronze.  

Over eight thousand people submitted writing pieces alone.  

Techno doesn’t expect an email back. He’s sure BITCHASS’s heartbreaking essay will get one, but his probably won’t. To be honest, he’s okay with that. More than okay, actually.   

It’s 10:52 pm when he gets a notification from his school issues computer. He puts his bookmark back into a book that Phil suggested and logs into his email app.  

The subject line reads “Further Discussion”.  

Techno can’t tell if that’s good or bad.  

“ Hello, Mr. Blade ,” the email reads. “ We were astonished by the work you put into for your family essay. It made several of us here cry. I would like to meet up to further discuss your essay. Is there an area we can meet up at near your school? Thank you .”  

The email is short. Techno’s heart skips a beat reading. Is this real? Did they truly want to meet up with him? Was this a prank?  

Several emails later, the man has proved he works with the writing company, and the two agree to meet up in a public park the following Saturday.  

“Phil, I got an email from someone saying they want to meet up with me at a public park near the high school this Saturday. I told him that I would talk with you first about it. Here are the emails. Can you read through them to make sure this isn’t some sort of kidnapping scheme?” Techno asks later that night, handing over the laptop.  

“Sure,” Phil says, grabbing his reading glasses because he’s just that old. After a moment, he speaks up, “It seems real to me. Yes, you may go. I can drive you there. Would you like me to stay nearby in case something happens?”  

“Yes, please,” Techno replies immediately. “I- I don’t want to do this alone.”  

And he doesn’t.  

A few days later, they’re heading to the park. On the fifteen-minute drive there, Techno has his window rolled down as he enjoys the late August breeze. It was beginning to cool down now, thankfully. Techno wasn’t particularly fond of the heat.  

“We’re here,” Phil says, stopping the car. He turns it off and leans back. “You can leave at any point. I’ll be right here.”  

Techno nods and gets out of the car, shaking his hands nervously. He notices a lime tree swaying next to a bench where a man sits.   

“Hello, are you Mr. Blade?” the man asks. Techno nods.  

“How did you know?” he asks in response. The man chuckles.  

“You weren’t the first person I asked.” Techno stares blankly. “I’m Mark. Have a seat. We have much to discuss.”  

“Do we?” Techno asks, and the man chuckles again.  

“We do,” he repeats. “Let's start with your essay, shall we? It was beautiful, and I’m so glad that your teacher encouraged you to submit it. Would you be alright discussing it more?”  

“Well, I don’t know what else there is to discuss,” Techno admits. “My father gave me up at seven, my mother died when I was three, I have no surviving relatives, I went through several foster homes, and now I’ve found people who I want to be my forever family. What are you not understanding?”  

“You claim to have no surviving relatives,” Mark says. “But your father left you.”  

“Yes,” Techno confirms.  

“Have you ever thought about finding him?” Why was this man so weird and pushy?  

“No,” Techno replies immediately.  

“Why not?” the man asks. Techno huffs.  

“He abandoned me, Mark. Did you forget that part of the essay? That man is not my father. He is nothing close to it. Whenever he dropped me off wherever the hell we went, he promised we’d never see each other again. He made it known he wants nothing to do with me, so I want nothing to do with him. Do you understand, Mark?” Techno snaps. Mark seems taken aback.  

“Maybe he wants to meet you again.”  

“What about this has to do with my essay?”  

“Techno, it’s me.”  

“What?”  

“I’m your father.”  

Techno freezes. Mark is his father?  

“No, no- you don’t get to just say that! You can’t act like that- you can’t be like that! You can’t just abandon me for years and come back like nothing happened!” Techno shouts, standing up and backing away.  

“Techno, I-,” Mark starts. Techno moves away.  

“Stay away from me!” he shouts. He turns around momentarily and starts yelling for Phil, tears falling down his cheeks. “How did you find me?”  

“What is going on here?” Phil demands, running over to them. Techno turns around and collapses in his arms, sobbing the entire time.   

“That’s my son,” Mark- his father- explains.  

“No! I don’t want you to be my father!” Techno screams. Phil squeezes Techno, and he takes a shaky breath as the pressure helps calm him a little.  

“You signed off your rights when you abandoned him eleven years ago. As far as we’re concerned, you are no longer his father,” Phil says, still holding Techno tightly.   

“Well, I don’t really understand-,” Mark starts.  

“And you don’t fucking have to,” Phil cuts off. “We’re leaving. Do not attempt to contact us.”  

“What if I want to?” Mark challenges. Techno finally faces the man who says he’s his father, pulling himself up to look as intimidating as possible.   

“If you ever loved me, you’d never try to find me,” Techno growls.   

Phil leads him back to the car as Mark shouts swear words at them. Once Techno is back to the safety of the passenger seat, he begins to sob again.   

“Please, please,” Techno manages between violent sobs and hiccups. Phil seems to understand because he wraps his arms around Techno again and squeezes until he can finally stop crying. He whispers kind words to Techno, and soon he’s okay enough to let Phil let go and drive him home.  

Once he walks in the door, Tommy demands to know who hurt him. He’s not even crying anymore, nor does he look like he has been.  

“What?” Techno asks with a nervous laugh.   

“Who hurt you?” Tommy asks once again. “You’re standing straight. You never stand like that. It makes people scared of you, so you only do it whenever someone might hurt you or someone you care about.”  

Observant little shit.  

“You know the guy I was meant to meet up with to discuss my essay?” Tommy nods. “Turns out he lied about that just so he could talk to me. Yes, he works with the writing company, but he never wanted to talk about my essay.”  

“Then what did he want?” Tommy asks gently.  

“He’s apparently my father,” Techno says. He hates how easily and nonchalantly the words roll off his tongue. Mark was his father, yes, but he wasn’t his dad. The two words don’t mean the same thing.   

“You met your father?” Tommy asks. Techno nods.  

“I’ll never see him again.” Tommy tilts his head in confusion. Techno continues, “Whenever he gave me up, he signed away his parental rights. This means I can be adopted, and he has no say in it.”  

“Is this a good thing to you?” Techno nods. “Can I hug you?” He nods again.  

His youngest brother envelopes him in a hug, squeezing him mostly around the chest. It calms Techno, which he didn’t even know he needed. The two stand there for a while before Techno loosens his grip, and Tommy lets go.  

“Does BITCHASS know?” Tommy asks.  

Oh God, BITCHASS. How is he going to react? Techno just hopes he doesn’t want to bite Mark’s head off.   

“Not yet. Want to come with me to tell him?” Tommy nods eagerly, and the two run upstairs, skipping every other step.  

“Come in,” BITCHASS calls when they both knock on his door at the same time. He looks up from his guitar and grins when he sees his brothers standing there.  

“I met my father,” Techno blurts out as soon as he sits down on BITCHASS’s bed. BITCHASS stares at him for a moment.   

“Oh.”  

Techno starts laughing, and quickly the other two join in.  

“Sorry, that was just really funny. I was so blunt,” Techno says through laughter.   

He likes this moment. Just him and his brothers laughing together without a care in the world. Sure, they’re laughing because Techno was accidentally very blunt, and Techno knows that if he doesn’t laugh, he’ll start crying, but they’re laughing together, and that’s all that matters to him.  

“Okay, wait, I’m sorry, but you met your father?” BITCHASS asks once they all stop laughing. Techno nods and lets his smile drop.  

“He emailed me under the impression we would meet up to discuss my essay. Obviously, that was not his intentions. We met up, and he tried to talk to me about why I don’t try to contact my father. Then he hit me with the ‘No, I am your father,’ like this is a Star Wars film and not my real life,” Techno rants.   

“What a bitch,” Tommy mumbles. BITCHASS nods in agreement.  

“He signed over his rights when he abandoned me, luckily, so if I ever get adopted, we don’t have to go through the hell of trying to find him so he can sign over his rights,” Techno explains.   

About two hours later, Phil knocks on BITCHASS’s door.  

“Boys, go grab your laptops and come straight back here,” Phil says, and from the smile on his face, Techno knows it isn’t bad.  

“Now what?” Tommy asks eagerly once they all have their school laptops booted up.  

“Go to your email.”  

And there it is.  

“ Congratulations, Mr. Techno Blade! You have won gold for your section! On September 9 th , you will receive your medal ,” the email reads. All at once, they gasp.  

“My family artwork won first place!” Tommy cries. “There was only one winner for art, and over ten thousand people submitted! Holy shit!”  

“My family essay won gold,” BITCHASS and Techno say at the same time. They stare at in each other in shock before laughing. Soon they’re all jumping up and down, cheering and holding each other and laughing.  

It’s a beautiful moment Techno knows he’ll hold forever. Everyone he cares about laughing and being happy together.  

Well. Not everyone .  

“Kristin!” Techno shouts. “Let’s go out to eat and bring Kristin along!”  

Half an hour later, they’re parked in front of her apartment building. BITCHASS and Techno have to talk Phil down from dramatically singing to her. Tommy encourages him.   

Twenty minutes later, they’re ordering burgers, fries, and milkshakes. Of course, Tommy and Phil get vanilla, Kristin and BITCHASS get chocolate, and Techno gets strawberry.  

He really wants to dye his hair pink.  

“Kristin! We have big news,” Tommy exclaims once their meals arrive. He takes a huge drink of his milkshake. Techno is surprised he doesn’t stab himself in the eye with the straw due to how excited he is. The kid is like a bouncy ball.   

“Oh, yeah? What is it?” she asks, sipping her milkshake while smiling. Techno dips a fry in Tommy’s milkshake.  

“I submitted an art piece and drew all of you and it got first place!” he says, bouncing like crazy. He’s so happy in this moment. It makes Techno even happier.  

“Congrats! Are you proud of yourself?” she asks. Tommy nods.  

“Very much so!”  

“Good! I’m proud of you too,” Kristin says. Tommy continues nodding and bouncing.  

“I submitted an essay about family, and it got a good medal,” Techno adds.  

“Me too,” BITCHASS chimes in. Kristin smiles at them both.  

“Are you two proud of yourselves?” Kristin asks. BITCHASS nods immediately. Techno thinks for a second before nodding in agreement too.  

“Yeah. Yeah, I think I am,” Techno says with a smile.  

“We’re all proud of each other,” BITCHASS adds. They all nod.  

They spend the rest of dinner stealing fries from each other and dipping stolen fries into milkshakes. The night is fun and full of great memories.  

Maybe Techno will tell Kristin about the horrible experience with his dad another time. For now, he wants to cherish these great moments.

Chapter Text

Tommy wakes up, although he doesn’t remember falling asleep. He stretches and looks out the window, admiring the trees out back. A smile spreads across his lips. They’re so pretty, aren’t they? Always swaying in the wind, happy and carefree. 

He heads down the hall, bouncing and whistling a song he had never heard before. Tommy doesn’t know why he’s whistling. He didn’t even know he knew how to whistle. 

His brothers were weird. That he always knew. The oldest was quiet, never speaking unless spoken to first. Tommy finds him odd, but he tells him story whenever he wishes. 

The oldest was tall and very strong. Sometimes, when he was angry, he’d make himself much taller to scare whoever he was talking to. It usually worked. The person would pull back and become terrified. Other times, they would laugh or completely ignore the taller.  

It doesn’t make sense to Tommy.  

Wait. Who was Tommy talking about? 

He shrugs and bounces down the hallway again. 

Something almost feels off. Tommy almost feels weird, almost feels wrong. Maybe if he focused a little more on the feeling, he’d truly feel off, but he was home! He was here, and everything was good and great. 

Faint names dance through his head. His name echoes throughout his mind occasionally, but he ignores it. He’s having a great time!  

Tommy’s in the kitchen eating cereal, except he doesn’t remember getting the cereal or the milk. He doesn’t remember grabbing the bowl or cereal. Hell, he didn’t even know they had cereal. But this is normal. Tommy forgets random things. 

He forgets, and people get mad, but that’s okay. Tommy doesn’t forget major things like birthdays or who people are. It’s the small things, like where he left his homework or his address. Still, people get so angry at him when he forgets things. 

It doesn’t make sense. 

Why do people get so mad at him forgetting things? It’s normal to forget. At least, he thinks. 

There was one foster home that would forget a lot. They’d forget about him mostly. It wasn’t enough for people to get involved, but it was enough to make Tommy feel unwanted. He would try to get people’s attention, but it never worked out in his favor. They’d just yell at him. 

When did Tommy get back in his room? 

He was just eating cereal. Did he wash his bowl? Is everything put away? He shrugs, assuming he was just so lost in thought he ran on autopilot for a moment. Things happen. 

Except Tommy doesn’t remember walking down the hall to his bedroom. He feels like he should at least remember that if he couldn’t remember the other miniscule details. 

Someone calls his name again, but they’re just far enough away that Tommy assumes he’s just hearing things. That happens sometimes. He’ll hear someone call his name, but nobody ever does. Tommy decides this was his mind playing tricks on him. 

Tommy holds Shroud. When did he get on his bed? He remembers when he first got her. 

His mom gave her to him. She wanted Tommy to have something from her, always and forever. 

“If anything ever happens to me,” she said, “you’ll always have her.” 

“Shroud,” Tommy whispered. “Her name is Shroud, Mama.” 

“And why Shroud?” she asked. Tommy shrugged. 

“Pretty name. And it reminds me of you!”  

Tommy’s mom picked him up and spun him around. He laughed and shrieked while holding onto her shirt so she wouldn’t drop him. Soon, their laughs were mixing together. His mom stopped spinning and held him directly in front of her, smiling. 

“I love you, Mama,” he said. 

“I love you too,” she replied. 

Tommy was at her funeral now; except he doesn’t quite understand what a funeral is. He’d been to one before when he was barely a year old, but nobody has memories from then. He doesn’t even know who it was for! 

But during that funeral, his mom had held him the entire time. According to her friends (who were here now), she cried the entire time, and Tommy kept kissing her cheeks, trying to help.  

Now strange people were holding him. Tommy didn’t have any grandparents who were well enough to care for him, but his aunt and uncle took him in. He stayed with them during the funeral. 

“Where’s Mama?” he asked his aunt. She didn’t answer. Instead, she cried and held him tight, saying sorry. 

His aunt looked a lot like his mama. She had the same blonde hair and blue eyes. Their smiles were the same. Everyone called them twins, but Tommy didn’t know what that meant. All that he knew was she looked like his mama, but he knew she wasn’t. 

“I want Mama,” he whined, holding onto his aunt’s shirt. 

“Maybe you should take him up to her. He deserves to say goodbye,” his uncle had whispered to his aunt, but his uncle had always been a loud person, so he heard every word. 

“Mama go away?” Tommy asked, looking up at his aunt. She held him tightly and stood up, walking to a box. 

“Say bye-bye, honey,” she said. Tommy thought she sounded like she might cry. 

“Bye, Mama. I love you,” he whispered. She looked like she was sleeping! He didn’t want to wake her. 

As he kissed her, he noticed how weird she felt. And why wasn’t she smiling? Mama always smiled. She was happy and pretty and kind and loved Tommy! 

Oh how she loved Tommy. She gave him gifts all the time. All she wanted was for him to be happy. Every night she hugged him, tucked him in, and sang him to sleep. 

The last night she was alive, she hugged him tighter and sang him his favorite song. Tommy doesn’t know why, but on that night, he kissed her cheeks. He told her that he loved her so many times. His mama seemed so sad, and every time he told her he loved her, she seemed to smile. 

Tommy was in his room at his aunt and uncle’s now. Wasn’t he just at his mom’s funeral? How did he get here so quickly? 

“Tommy, please,” his aunt was begging. Oh. Maybe he should stop zoning out and listen. “Just talk! Please!” 

She was crying. Why was she crying? Tommy didn’t like talking. His voice was reserved for his mama, and now she was gone. He was six-years-old now, and he hadn’t spoken since he told his mama he loved her. Now that he was old enough, his aunt and uncle explained what death was. They thought that if Tommy understood why his mom was never getting him, he’d speak.  

Tommy remained silent. 

They begged him for months. His teachers at his school wanted him to talk, but he would only talk for his mom. Tommy was silent, and they hated that. 

Sometimes they’d take him to her grave site just to see if he’d talk. He would occasionally, but more often than not, he stayed silent. 

They got angry with his silence, screaming that if he didn’t start speaking, he’d go away. Tommy never believed them. He was just six-years-old! Of course he thought they’d keep him forever. They’re his family; they’re meant to love him. 

Tommy wasn’t enough. 

He doesn’t like to think about the time in that one building. It plagues his nightmares, so he ignores it to the best of his ability.  

Tommy’s back in his room, staring out the window at the trees. He doesn’t know how long he’s been staring, which house he’s in, or where he’s at. 

Why does this room feel so familiar? 

A tall man enters his room, smiling warmly. He asks Tommy a question, but Tommy can’t hear him. Everything sounds underwater, but Tommy’s on land! He’s in his bedroom. 

Part of him tells him this is his musical older brother who was loud in the best way possible. He told jokes and laughed a lot and played guitar. Tommy’s brain told him that whenever this older brother was angry, he’d get quiet. His brain warns him to fear the silence. 

The silence would hurt him if he wasn’t careful. That’s what his brain tells him late at night. It says that the silence is bad coming from this older brother, but silence from the other one is good. 

Why can’t Tommy remember these names? His brain is blanking, and he doesn’t even remember who he was thinking about. 

Tommy doesn’t know why his brain is echoing the word brothers , but it’s making him mad. He’s an only child. There are no other kids living with him. It’s just him and Mama. 

Mama. Oh, he loves his mama. He craves her touch most nights, and he’ll usually crawl out of bed to go lay in hers. 

One night his door is shut. It’s never shut. 

Tommy is scared. He cries and hits the door, yelling for his mama. It’s late, he knows this, but he needs his mama.  

It feels like hours before she answers the door, a frown set on her face. He wails, holding his arms up, and her face softens.  

“My baby, oh, my sweet baby,” she coos, holding him and rocking back and forth. “Was your door shut? It’s okay, Mama’s here now. She’ll make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. You’re safe with me.” 

She rocks him for who knows how long that night. They sit together in the rocking chair in his room. Occasionally, they’d both fall asleep, and it’d be peaceful, but then one of them would wake up, and the rocking would continue. 

Tommy doesn’t know why he wanted his mama so badly that night. Maybe he had a nightmare, maybe she had been at work too long that day in his toddler brain, maybe he just needed comfort. Whatever the reason, she still held him tightly. 

He wishes she never let go. 

All good things must come to an end, so that morning when they were both finally ready to wake up and start their day, Tommy only whined a little bit before being told he could help with making breakfast. 

They didn’t cook breakfast very often. Cooking breakfast was reserved for special occasions like birthdays, holidays, and family gatherings. Usually, they had an assortment of fruits and cereal for breakfast. 

Tommy was little. Very little. He had no sense of time. However, he knows that the time between then and the last time his mama hugged him wasn’t very long. 

More voices call his name. They’re faint still, but they’re loud enough for Tommy to be annoyed by them. He hugs his mama, who he didn’t even know was still holding him. 

“Do you hear that?” he asks her, voice slightly muffled by her sweater. It was cold in their apartment.  

“Hear what, baby?” she asks in return, squeezing him tighter. Tommy shrugs, although he knows he’s about to respond.  

“People are calling my name, Mama,” he explains, holding on tight. He knows he has to leave soon, but he doesn’t know where he’s going. All he knows is that he doesn’t want to leave. 

“Who is?” she asks, but it’s obvious by her sniffles that she too knows Tommy has to leave her. 

“My new family, Mama. They’re nice to me, and they love me a lot.” They both sniffle, now silently crying together. “I miss you a lot, but they take care of me.” 

“I’m so glad to hear that, baby,” she says, hugging her son. “You’re happy with them.” 

It’s not a question; it’s a statement, a fact. 

“I am. Do you watch over me, Mama?” he asks. She nods. 

“Of course I do. I watch over you every second I get. I’m so happy that you’ve become who you’ve become,” his mom chokes out. Tommy’s hair was becoming wet with her tears, but he didn’t care. 

“I love you so much, Mama.” 

“I love you too, baby. I’m always watching you. In everything you see, I am there: the lemon trees in your backyard, the sheets of your bed, the paint that you use for art. I’m always there for you. You’re never alone or without me.” 

“I love you, Mama.” He knows he just said it, but it doesn’t feel like enough. 

“I love you too.” 

She holds him tight, and they cry together until Tommy can feel himself slip away from her grasp. 

“Mama! I love you! I love you!” he cries. 

“I love you, sweet bird. Fly for me!” 

Chapter Text

Tommy wakes up.  

Wait.  

He wakes up.  

He wakes up, and he’s not jumping around memories or rooms. He’s simply awake in his room, lying in his bed, covers kicked off like usual.  

Tommy is here and alive and well.   

The thought makes him almost cry tears of joy.  

He heads downstairs. That was all a dream. Tommy wasn’t with his mom. She wasn’t holding him anymore, but the dream felt so real. It had to have been her.  

BITCHASS notices he seems off and simply smiles instead of teasing the late riser. Techno stays quiet, but he was always quiet.   

“Morning, Tommy,” Phil says from the stove. He’s cooking breakfast, just like every morning, but it feels bittersweet after the dream of his mother last night.  

Tommy tries to reply, but it feels like he physically can’t. He opens his mouth, but his words don’t come out. They sit there thick on his tongue, taunting him. He lets out a noise of frustration.  

Why can’t he just speak? Where did his words? Sure, when he was little, he stopped talking because his words were reserved for his mom, but now he’s big! He’s fifteen for crying out loud.  

Maybe a part of him still misses her and is subconsciously is saving his words for his mom. He won’t speak unless it’s for her.   

But that doesn’t make sense. He hasn’t been like that since he was six, and even then, he spoke to his mom last night in his dreams. She wants him to be happy, and him being unable to speak does not make him happy, thank you very much.  

Tommy lets out another noise of frustration and pulls at his hair before sinking to the floor. Why can’t he just talk?!  

“Woah, Tommy, are you okay?” BITCHASS asks.  

No! No, he’s not okay! But he can’t say that because his words left him, so he lets out another scream. God, why can’t he just speak?  

“Calm down, it’s okay,” Phil tries. Tommy shrieks again, backing away. This isn’t okay! He can’t fucking talk! How can Phil think everything is okay when Tommy is at a literal loss for words?  

“We’ll figure this out,” BITCHASS attempts to soothe. Once again, Tommy lets out a screech and runs. He runs out the front door and down around the side of the house.   

Tommy wants to know why he can’t talk now! Why does he have to wait and figure it out with other people?  

He stops running once he reaches the lemon trees that he watches most nights from his bedroom window. Usually they calm him, reminding him that he’s here and he’s safe. Now he’s too stressed and upset to even notice them.  

Tommy lets out another scream of frustration and pulls at his hair again. He slips down to the base of a lemon tree and starts crying. Why can’t he be normal? He screams again and once more for good measure.  

Once he stops screaming, he realizes he’s crying a lot now and he can’t breathe. When did Phil get here? Tommy wants his mom. That’s all he wants.  

“Tommy, are you awake?” his mama asks. She knocks gently on his door like she does every morning. His mama knows better than anyone that Tommy loves his routine and hates for it to be ruined.  

“Mama!” he shouts, jumping out of bed and running to her. It’s just like their average morning.  

Tommy hugs his mama longer than usual. He doesn’t want to let go of her. She just seemed so sad recently! His hugs always made his mama happy, so he hugged her every chance he got now. Today his mama held him longer, held him tighter.   

“Morning, my sweet angel,” she whispers, kissing his golden hair. He giggles and grasps at her shirt.  

The two were happy together. They needed each other and no one else. Nothing could ever separate them.  

Tommy was a clingy toddler, always wanting to be carried and held. His mother always held him, bouncing him on her hip when doing anything. Her friends always teased him, calling him a momma’s boy, but he didn’t mind! He loved the attention.  

“Let's take a nap, okay?” his mama suggests, and he agrees eagerly. He loved napping with his mama. She gave the best cuddles.  

“I love you, Mama,” Tommy says, peppering his mom’s cheeks with kisses. She giggles and kisses his cheeks and forehead, making him giggle too.  

“I love you too, my sweet boy,” she whispers. They fall asleep together.  

Tommy is the only one who wakes up.  

“Tommy, breathe with me,” someone says, pulling him back to reality. He notices his breathing is weird and off. It feels like he can’t get a deep enough breath.  

He lets out another noise of frustration and whistles in fear. Phil seems to understand.  

“I know, this is really scary, but I’m here. I’m not leaving. You’re safe, and you’re outside, sitting under the lemon trees in our backyard. It’s going to be okay,” Phil assures him. He exaggerates his breathing, and Tommy does his best to follow.  

Still, it feels like he’s dying. He doesn’t know what’s happening to him, and he’s scared. The sun was far too hot for it to be early morning. Everything was wrong and bad. He wants his mama, but he knows she’s gone.  

“This is scary, and it’s okay to be scared,” Phil validates. Shockingly, this helps Tommy feel better. “Just keep breathing with me, okay? You’re doing so good.”  

Tommy continues breathing with Phil. It’s much easier now that he knows where he is and has stopped crying. Even though he can breathe fine now on his own, he still can’t speak, and that makes him angry.  

He whistles out in frustration before tugging his hair again. All he wants right now is to speak and to be held, whether the person holding him is his mom or anyone else.  

“You’re okay, Tommy,” Phil soothes. Usually that sentence was degrading and rude, said to him when people thought he was being overdramatic. Phil is able to say the words and have Tommy melt right into them.  

Tommy looks up at the lemon tree. There were some lemons despite it being early September. He reaches up and grabs one, handing it to Phil. Phil takes it and raises an eyebrow while Tommy grabs another lemon.  

Tommy rips it in half then rips the halves in halves. Now he has a lemon split in four, and he’s waiting patiently for Phil to do the same. Phil seems confused, so Tommy holds up the lemons.  

“Oh! Do you want me to split them like you did?” he asks. Tommy nods happily in confirmation, and Phil laughs. “Okay, buddy.”  

Now they have eight slices of lemons. Cool! Tommy loves lemons.  

“Now what?” Phil asks. As soon as the question leaves his mouth, Tommy has a slice of lemon in his. He sucks all the juice out without making a face before moving onto the next lemon and motioning for Phil to copy him.  

Tommy can’t help but burst out into laughter at Phil’s face when he tastes the sour fruit. He couldn’t help it! Phil made the most generic “oh I just tasted something sour” face, and it was pretty funny.  

Luckily, Phil finds it just as funny as him.  

Tommy points to where a watch would be on his wrist if he knew how to tell time. He puts a third slice of lemon into his mouth.  

“It’s almost two,” Phil informs him. Tommy spits out his lemon slice and stares at Phil with his jaw dropped. “You slept in pretty late. We tried to wake you up for breakfast and lunch, but you mumbled about how you were tired.”  

That didn’t make any sense though. When he came downstairs, Phil had told him good morning, and he was making breakfast. Unfortunately, Tommy can’t point this out to Phil. Thankfully, Phil seems to be a mind reader of sorts.  

“We were going to bring you breakfast in bed,” Phil explains. Ah. Yeah, that made sense. “How about we go outside now? We can bring in some lemons for BITCHASS and Techno.”  

Tommy eagerly nods and picks as many lemons as he can grab. They bring back the lemons for them, and Tommy laughs once again at their reactions to the lemons.  

Dinner comes around, and Tommy still can’t talk. He’s resorted to whistling and noises to communicate with his family.  

“Kristin said she’ll be here in ten minutes,” Phil announces as they’re setting up the table. Tommy whistles happily in response and grabs the dishes she always used when she came to eat over.   

“Are you excited to see Kristin again?” BITCHASS asks with a smile as he places napkins at each person’s seat. Tommy nods and starts jumping around, shaking his fists, and whistling happily. Techno whistles back at him.  

Kristin walks in not too much later, and Tommy whistles happily at her in greeting. She smiles and ruffles his hair.  

“Bird boy,” she teases. Tommy makes a noise of false annoyance, but he smiles down at her anyway.  

“He’s been unable to talk all day,” Phil explains. Then, more quietly, “Should we be worried?”  

Tommy whistles out in genuine annoyance. You never need to be worried about big man Tommy! He was great.  

“Sorry, Tommy, but Kristin has experience in these types of things. I’m just a little concerned is all,” Phil explains.  

Tommy’s still frustrated. Nothing was wrong! Well, him being unable to speak was fairly annoying, but it’s nothing to be concerned about.   

“He’s fine, I’m sure. Just a nonverbal episode,” Kristin assures him. Tommy looks up at those words. Nonverbal . Now where had he heard that before?  

He shakes off the weird feeling. It’s probably nothing. Maybe he’s read it before when he was doing his hours of research. Maybe it was said about him at some point. Honestly, he doesn’t really care when or where he heard the word.   

After dinner is done and cleaned up, Kristin says her goodbyes. Tommy whistles after her and watches as she climbs into her car. He whistles sadly as she pulls away, and BITCHASS has to drag Tommy from the front windows.  

Later that night, he can tell BITCHASS is fast asleep from the lack of noise coming from his room. Techno, however, was still awake. If Tommy listened close enough, he could hear him tapping away at his laptop.  

Tommy realizes he’s probably working on some really important assignment for school, but he also remembers that all of their bedrooms were open for each other, no matter how late it was. He can’t even count the times they slept in each others’ rooms. His favorite nights were when they all fell asleep together.  

He knocks on the door, and Techno pulls it open a literal second later. Tommy backs up, eyes wide with shock. Was Techno waiting for him?  

“I’ve been waiting for you.”  

Huh. Guess he was.  

“Come in.”  

Tommy walks in and lays down on Techno’s bed. Techno sits back at his desk which fit perfectly at the edge of the bed. Tommy crawls under the blankets, Shroud in hand. He wants to ask for a story, but he still seems to be unable to talk.   

“Would you like a story?” Techno asks, probably reading Tommy’s mind. His new family seemed really good at doing that lately.  

Tommy hums in confirmation, moving closer to the edge so Techno could have his wall space later. He lets his eyes slip shut as Techno sighs contently and begins clicking things on his computer.  

“I have some to choose from. You can either hear about Genghis Khan, Sun Tzu, or Theseus,” Techno offers, spinning around so he could see what Tommy chose.  

He opens his eyes and thinks about it for a few seconds. Sun Tzu was someone Techno spoke about and quoted a lot, Theseus was a Greek story Techno had told him before, but Genghis Khan seemed new. Tommy holds up one finger.  

“Ah, Genghis Khan. Good choice.”  

Tommy closes his eyes again and allows himself to drift off to sleep to his brother’s voice rambling about the founder of the Mongols. He falls asleep with a smile.  

Chapter Text

BITCHASS wakes up feverish.  

Not that he’d ever admit that, of course. Why would he? Fevers aren’t that bad. He’ll get over it in a few hours, and he’ll be perfectly fine.   

He tries to stand up and immediately falls over.  

Well. That’s not normal.   

BITCHASS shrugs and stands up again, this time using his nightstand to help him. He then makes his bed all while trying not to fall flat on his face again. Falling is Tommy’s thing, and he does it enough already.   

BITCHASS heads downstairs, one hand placed gently on his forehead as he clutches the banister with his other hand. He doesn’t want to fall down the stairs. Tommy’s done it twice and a half.  

“Morning, BITCHASS!” Tommy calls from the table. BITCHASS stops in the archway, squinting his eyes in the bright light. God that made his head hurt.  

“Am I the last one up?” BITCHASS asks after a moment of silence. He walks over to the cabinet to grab a glass and fills it with water, rejecting his usual morning coffee. Part of him hopes Phil doesn’t notice because if he does, he’ll start worrying about BITCHASS, and that’s the last thing he wants happening.  

“Yeah. Phil was about to send me up to check on you,” Tommy answers, squirming slightly in his seat. None of them do well with change, but Tommy handles it the worst out of all of them.  

“Sorry. I guess I was just tired,” BITCHASS tries to reason. It’s a lie, and he knows it. Last night he was in bed, asleep, by 8:30, and it was now nearing 10. Still, he felt exhausted despite getting almost thirteen and a half hours of sleep.  

“Would you like some cereal?” Phil offers. BITCHASS nods as he drinks his entire glass of water in one gulp. He stands to go get more, absolutely parched. Techno watches him as he gulps down another glass and gets even more water.  

“Are you okay?” Techno asks. BITCHASS goes to answer, but a cough cuts him off. It takes a minute to stop coughing and finally breath again.  

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says, like a liar. He was not fine. BITCHASS was too hot and too cold at the same time, sweating and shivering, and everything hurt.   

He’s fine. It was Thursday, so he just needs to get through today and tomorrow before he can finally rest. Monday was a work day for the teachers, so he thankfully had it off. For now, he has to focus on going to school because he honestly can’t miss a day.  

“Sure you are,” Techno mumbles quietly to himself as BITCHASS downs another glass of water.  

“I am,” he insists as Phil lays a hand on his forehand. BITCHASS leans into it. It’s so cool and nice; it’s a nice contrast from the warmth he felt.  

“You’re not going to school,” Phil announces, removing his hand.   

“What?” BITCHASS asks in disbelief. “No, Phil. I’m fine, okay?”   

“Do you promise?” Phil challenges. BITCHASS opens his mouth to speak, but he doesn’t make promises.  

“I just have so much to do at school. Plus, I’m working on a song with some of my friends,” BITCHASS tries to argue and Phil leaves to go grab something.  

“Tommy, Techno, I’ll be out in the car in just a second,” Phil calls from the living room. Both teens grab their bags.  

“Stay in bed,” Techno tells BITCHASS. He sticks his tongue out, and Techno laughs.   

“Rest,” Tommy adds. “That’s a threat.”  

“Whatever,” BITCHASS grumbles, not too happy that he’s being made to stay home when he would be perfectly fine at school. “Techno, tell me what we do during English.”  

“No need,” Phil says, coming back with a box full of medicines and a thermometer. “I just emailed your teachers explaining that you have a fever and asked if they could email you any notes and assignments.”  

“Phil,” BITCHASS whines, drawing out his name. “I could’ve done it myself.”  

“Well, it’s already been done, so you can’t stop me. I’ll check your temperature, give you some cold medicine, and then you’ll head up to your room while I take Techno and Tommy to school,” Phil explains while he opens a bottle and pours a thick dark purple liquid into a small cup.  

“Are they going to be late?” BITCHASS asks as he eyes the liquid. Phil hands it to him, and he downs it all at once, shaking his head at the disgusting taste. “I didn’t like that.”  

“I’m sorry,” Phil says sympathetically, handing the thermometer to BITCHASS. “Check your temperature. I have to put this back.”   

“You didn’t answer my question,” BITCHASS weakly calls as he sticks the thermometer under his tongue.   

“They won’t be late,” Phil calls before entering his room.  

BITCHASS stands there in mock annoyance until the thermometer beeps at him. He takes it out of his mouth and checks the number.  

“What does it say?” Phil asks, reentering the living room with his coat on.   

“102.4,” BITCHASS reads. “That’s annoying.”  

“Upstairs to your room now,” Phil says. “I’ll be back soon.”  

BITCHASS grumbles to himself as he walks upstairs to his bedroom, complaining about how he should be in the car on his way to school instead of being home. He wasn’t even that sick! Sure, he had a fever and everything hurt, but he would’ve been able to toughen up.  

He crawls into bed and pulls his guitar into his lap, strumming random chords. The strings feel tight and worn, so he knows they’ll either snap or he’ll have to stop playing. Either way he’d have to save up for more guitar strings.  

There’s a knock on his door sometime later. It knocks him out his thoughts on how he’ll get the money to buy his guitar strings.  

“Come in,” he calls, voice slightly hoarse from a combination of not using it and from how much he’s been coughing.  

“Phil went out to get some soup for you, but he has no clue what kind you’d like,” Kristin says, entering his room and sitting on his bed. “Do you have a specific kind you’d like him to get, or are you okay with anything?”  

“I really like chicken noodle soup if that answers your question,” BITCHASS says before coughing again. Kristin soothingly rubs circles on his lower back until his body stops trying to make his inside organs into outside organs.  

“I’ll also tell him to get you some cough medicine and cough drops,” she says, typing away on her phone.  

“Can you ask him to get me a different flavor from this morning? That shit was disgusting,” he complains weakly.  

“Will do,” Kristin promises with a smile. After a moment, she pockets her phone. “I didn’t know you played guitar.”  

“Oh, yeah,” BITCHASS says, clearing his throat and blushing slightly. “I’m thinking of starting a band with a few of my friends, but for now, I just have some originals that I’ve written and just some songs I know.”  

“Would you be willing to play some?” Kristin asks. BITCHASS shrugs.  

“I can’t sing right now, so I can’t play you any that I wrote, but I can play some other songs, and you can sing along,” he suggests. Then, in a moment of slight panic, he adds, “Only if you want to, of course. Don’t think you have to just because you think I’m sick and you feel obligated to.”  

“BITCHASS, calm down,” Kristin says with a slight laugh. “I’d love to sing along to your playing. What do you mean by ‘you think I’m sick’? You are sick.”  

“Maybe in the sick-cool way, but not the sick-illness way. I’m fine,” BITCHASS tries to argue. His coughing fit doesn’t help much.  

“Uh huh, because healthy people almost cough up a lung every few minutes. They also run 102 fevers,” Kristin teases sarcastically. She readjusts herself so she’s facing BITCHASS more directly, and she crosses her legs. “Come on, I’m excited to hear you play.”  

“Okay, uh, let me think.” After a moment of silence, BITCHASS sheepishly asks, “Do you know You Are My Sunshine ?”  

“Yeah, I do!” She once again shifts so she’s sitting up straight and patiently waits for BITCHASS to begin playing.  

Once he does, she sings. Her voice is absolutely beautiful, angelic and soft. If BITCHASS hadn’t been playing the guitar, he would’ve been lulled to sleep. Even as he was playing the guitar, his eyes drifted shut.  

“You’re really good at playing, BITCHASS,” Kristin compliments after the first verse is over. “I don’t know many people who can play the guitar with their eyes closed.”  

“It takes a lot of practice,” BITCHASS says with a slight laugh.   

“What song should we do next?”  

The next thirty minutes go on with BITCHASS playing songs and Kristin singing along. Halfway through a song, Phil knocks on the door with his soup.  

“Wait,” BITCHASS calls as they both head to leave his room. They stop in their tracks and turn in unison to face him. “Can you stay in here please? I like your company.”  

The couple smile at each other and sit on the foot of BITCHASS’s bed. He smiles to himself and begins sipping on his soup. The warm broth helps sooth his scratchy throat.  

They spend the next hour and a half talking with BITCHASS as he sleepily and slowly ate his chicken noodle soup. Most of the time they told stories, whether they were stories of their past or work stories. BITCHASS liked hearing about them. They made him feel all warm and cozy inside.  

Finally, he finished his soup as Phil was in the middle of telling a story about how an octopus memorized the guards’ rounds so he could sneak out of his enclosure to eat fish from a tank near his room. It took the aquarium over two and a half weeks to figure out why so many fish were disappearing.  

BITCHASS places his bowl on his nightstand and moves to lay down more comfortably. He was really tired now that he was listening to them tell their stories and he finished his warm soup. Maybe a little nap wouldn’t hurt.  

He closes his eyes and drifts off to the sound of Phil and Kristin quietly telling stories, smiling to himself.  

BITCHASS wakes up whenever Techno and Tommy get home. He has no clue how long he’s been sleeping, but the bowl is gone and his lights are off. There was a cold, wet rag on his forehead that he put on his nightstand to head downstairs to greet Techno and Tommy.  

“BITCHASS! How’d you know we were here?” Tommy asks as he walks inside. BITCHASS was sitting on the couch with yet another glass of water.  

He shrugs. “I’m just cool like that I guess.”  

“You’re meant to be on bedrest,” Techno says as soon as he walks in. “Phil told me about your fever.”  

“I wanted to see you two,” BITCHASS explains. If anyone heard the slight whine in his voice when he said that, they all chose to ignore it.  

“We would’ve come upstairs to see you,” Techno points out. BITCHASS sighs.  

“Yeah, I know. It’s just-.” He sighs again. “I’m not even sick. Plus, I usually see you guys halfway through the day. I missed that,” he admits.  

“You literally are running a fever, and from the sounds of it, you’ve spent most of your waking hours coughing,” Techno points out once again. BITCHASS sighs for a third time.  

“Why must you be right?” he mutters.  

“Alright, back to bed. It’s time for you to take more medicine, check your fever, and replace that rag,” Phil says walking into the living room.  

“Yeah, yeah, I hear you, you old man,” BITCHASS teases before letting out a series of coughs. They weren’t nearly as harsh as his ones earlier, but they still hurt quite a bit.  

The other three lead BITCHASS up to his room, Phil with the new medicine he bought earlier and the thermometer. As BITCHASS gets comfortable in bed, Tommy takes the old rag from his nightstand and heads to the bathroom to put more cold water on it.  

“Take this then check your thermometer,” Phil instructs. “I have a bit of work to do, so I’ll be downstairs in my room.”  

“What’s your temperature?” Techno asks after BITCHASS downs the (much better tasting) medicine and sticks the thermometer in his mouth.  

“102.6,” he says with a groan. “Why won’t it just go down?”  

“It’s fighting off an infection. Lay down. Tommy, put the rag on his forehead. Cover his eyes a bit,” Techno directs. Tommy does as he’s told, and a second later BITCHASS can hear his blinds closing.  

“I want more lemons from the lemon trees,” BITCHASS announces as he feels weight sink into the foot of his bed.  

“I’ll get you some for when you wake up,” Tommy promises. BITCHASS smiles and falls back asleep while listening to the two ramble about their day.

Chapter Text

The end of October was now. BITCHASS, Techno, and Tommy had spent exactly a minute begging Phil to go trick-or-treating because he agreed immediately. He claimed that there was no such thing as “too old” to go trick-or-treating.   

All October, the three planned their costumes. BITCHASS was going as an exploded man, Techno as a boar, and Tommy as a chicken. It took Kristin and Phil working together to get every single feather glued onto his costume.  

The three teens were very happy and excited to have costumes and head out with the promise of a bag filled with candy.  

“What if they make fun of us?” Tommy asks nervously as Techno was added the finishing touches to his costume. Tommy was trying not to squirm, but Techno was very patient and let him move around and shake his hands when needed.  

“Nobody will say anything to you. This neighborhood has more teens each year than little kids. We’re all used to teenagers asking for candy, and I assure you they’re all happy to give candy out. Most people living here are old retired couples,” Phil explains as he helps put more soot marks on BITCHASS’s face.  

“You promise?” Tommy asks as Techno glues the final feather to his forehead.   

“I promise,” Phil reassures him. This helps Tommy (and BITCHASS) relax. Phil never intentionally broke a promise. If he thought there was even a slight chance the promise would be broken, he wouldn’t make it. It was one of the many things BITCHASS loved about him.  

“What will we do once we get back?” BITCHASS asks, desperate for reassurance that their plans hadn’t changed. He knew that hadn’t, but it was still an anxious thought.   

“We’ll carve pumpkins, tell scary stories, make dinner, and watch a movie. If you would all like, I can set up a bed for all of us in the living room,” Phil offers. They all nod eagerly. The nights were they all slept together in the living room were BITCHASS’s favorite.   

“And Kristin will be with us for all of that, correct?” Techno asks, somehow knowing what BITCHASS was going to ask next.   

“Yes, of course. She said she was on her way twenty-five minutes ago, so she should be here any minute now,” Phil says, checking his watch. Once he’s sure he has the right time, he goes back to applying fake burns on BITCHASS’s arms and neck. BITCHASS didn’t realize he was such an artist until then.  

Kristin knocks on the door as Phil is hair spraying BITCHASS’s hair straight up so it looks like he was just exploded moments before. Since Tommy was the only one who’s costume was completely finished, he let her in.  

“You have a key,” Phil reminds her. “It’s okay to just walk in.” He applies more fake soot on BITCHASS’s brown curls.  

“I know, but it just feels a little rude to walk in when I don’t live here,” she explains. BITCHASS holds in a laugh.  

“I mean, you practically do,” BITCHASS points out. “You’re here most days of the week.”  

“Still,” Kristin protests.  

“The door wasn’t even locked. You could’ve just walked in,” Tommy adds, sitting back down on the couch. Kristin shrugs and sits next to him.  

“Are we almost ready?” she asks as she watches Techno add the final fake skin pieces around his fake tusks. Phil puts a little more of the fake soot in BITCHASS’s hair before leaning back and wiping his hands off.  

“Let me finish gluing this on,” Techno mutters, glaring at his reflection. A moment passes before the fake skin decides to stick.  

“Woo! It’s time for candy!” Tommy cheers. Everyone echoes the cheers as they walk out and head down the street.  

“So we just walk up to houses and knock or ring the doorbell?” BITCHASS whispers to Kristin as they search for the first house. Luckily, it was late enough for other people to be roaming the streets, so they weren’t alone.   

“Yup, but make sure they have their porch light on. If not, we skip the house,” Kristin confirms. BITCHASS nods and looks up to see Tommy jumping around wildly.  

“Porch! Bowl! Candy!” he shouts excitedly, pointing and jumping while patiently waiting for everyone to join him. Once BITCHASS and Techno are next to them, they walk up to the house with bags in hand.  

“It says to only take one,” Techno reads. He shrugs and grabs one singular piece just like the sign said. BITCHASS and Tommy follow suit because they’re not monsters and want everyone to get some candy.  

They end up hitting most of the houses on the street. Most of the time, old women would open the door and talk about how creative their costumes were. They would look at each costume, say what it was, then say something they liked about it. It made BITCHASS feel all warm and fuzzy inside.  

Eventually, they had to go home. All three of them ended up having an entire bag of candy. Phil commented on how he was shocked none of their bags broke due to the sheer weight. Most houses gave them huge handfuls of candy while others had bowls out that either told them to take one or to take a handful (and even then they only took one piece each).  

“Who knew trick-or-treating could be so fun!” Tommy exclaims as he skips down the sidewalk. He turns around and runs backwards for a few seconds before almost tripping on his huge chicken feet that he probably forgot he was wearing.  

“I’m excited to carve pumpkins and watch a scary movie,” BITCHASS says, bouncing on his heels for a second.   

“Yeah, a scary movie,” Phil repeats, sounding like they were not, in fact, going to watch a scary movie.  

“You say that like we aren’t going to watch a scary movie,” Techno points out. Phil chuckles.  

“We aren’t.”  

Oh.  

Look at BITCHASS, being able to tell tone! Go BITCHASS!  

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Tommy is throwing open the front door. He’s still chatting excitedly about dinner and the movie and carving pumpkins. BITCHASS doesn’t think he’s even seen a pumpkin in real life.  

They all sit at the kitchen table with a pumpkin each. Slowly yet surely, Kristin guides them through the steps of cutting off the top in a specific way and taking out its insides. BITCHASS cringed and couldn’t touch them, so Phil had to take them out for him.   

At that point, BITCHASS found himself stressed and unable to speak. Quietly, he tugs at Kristin’s shoulder and points to his mouth before shaking his head. She nods in understanding.  

“Tommy, what are you going to make yours look like?” Kristin asks a minute later when she’s done sketching hers.   

“I think I want to try a heart. It’s easy and basic,” he explains. Kristin nods as she grabs the knife she wants to use to carve her pumpkin. BITCHASS watches with intense focus. He doesn’t want to mess up when he decides he wants to try carving his pumpkin.  

“What about you, Techno?” Kristin asks.  

“Knife,” he says, turning his pumpkin around. Oh, yup, that’s a knife alright! BITCHASS gives him a wide grin and a thumbs up. Techno gives a small smile in return.  

“Phil?”  

“Mug.”  

“Guess you could say it’s muggy.”  

Techno simply sighs at Tommy’s comment and saws at his own pumpkin with a little more aggression.   

BITCHASS is finally able to convince himself that he wasn’t going to injure anyone when carving the pumpkin. He also was able to convince himself that the pumpkin was okay with being carved and it wasn’t going to feel any pain.  

He doesn’t know why he has to convince himself of the second part, but he does. It’s weird, but it helps him feel better.  

BITCHASS takes the knife with shaky hands and carves the most basic, stereotypical pumpkin, and he’s okay with that. More than okay, actually. He’d seen it be done before, so he knew it wasn’t going to look terrible or stupid.  

After a few minutes, all of their pumpkins are successfully carved. Kristin even brought some miniature candles to put inside them to make jack-o'-lanterns.   

“Should we put them outside?” Kristin suggests. Tommy begins wringing his hands nervously.  

“I don’t want them to get smashed,” he whispers. BITCHASS wraps his arm around his shoulder, and when Tommy doesn’t protest (in fact he leans into the touch), he pulls him closer.  

“Okay, we can keep them in here. That’s completely okay,” Phil says. Kristin nods in agreement, and Techno smiles and ruffles Tommy’s hair. BITCHASS squeezes Tommy tighter.  

“Food time, yeah?” Kristin says. Everyone nods in agreement.  

“How do we feel about just ordering something instead of cooking? It’s getting close to eleven now,” Phil says, checking his watch.   

“That sounds great,” Tommy says, and Techno and BITCHASS nod in agreement.  

That’s how they ended up order 50 nuggets, 5 fries, 5 McFlurries, and 5 sodas from McDonald’s. While they waited for their food to be delivered by Sophie (according to DoorDash), they set up their area for their movie later that night.  

At some point, Phil was hit in the head with a pillow, causing him to hit Tommy (who he thought hit him first), which caused an all-out pillow war. Everyone was getting hit in the face and getting their legs kicked out from under them so they’d land on the mattresses beneath them.  

The doorbell rang, and Kristin ran to get it, still giggling as she yelled the food was there. A pillow was thrown in her direction by Phil.  

They all helped bring in the food, and they separated it while they all got settled for the night.  

“What movie are we watching?” Tommy asks from the left side. He takes a long, loud sip of his Coke.  

“ Halloween ,” Techno lies. Tommy lets out a laugh, one that’s loud and beautiful and seems to make the room much brighter. BITCHASS likes when his family laughs.  

“ Nightmare on Elm Street ?” Kristin jokingly guesses. Techno lets out a short, quiet laugh, but even once the laugh is gone, a small smile remains. BITCHASS really likes when his family smiles.  

“ Final Destination !”  

“ It .”  

“Perhaps The Conjuring ?”  

“Would you all like to know what movie we’re really watching?” Phil finally asks after several more iconic horror movies are said. Everyone nods.  

“Come on, old man. At this rate, your bones will turn to dust before we know what movie we’re watching,” Techno teases. Phil scoffs.  

“We’re watching.” He pauses dramatically. Phil was paused for so long, BITCHASS decided to start a drum roll. Quickly everyone else joined in, and soon they were all laughing together.  

“Come on, I’m curious,” Kristin says with a wide grin.  

“We’re watching,” he repeats, “ The Nightmare Before Christmas !”  

“Isn’t that a Christmas movie?” Tommy whispers to Techno.  

“I thought it was an Easter movie,” Techno says with a shrug.   

Phil laughs as he flicks over to Disney+. He had to buy a subscription recently because most of Tommy, BITCHASS, and Techno’s favorite movies were on there. Some of Phil’s childhood movies and shows were on there too, so in the end, everyone was winning.  

BITCHASS hasn’t seen The Nightmare Before Christmas before, but he was still unable to speak, so he couldn’t exactly tell anyone that. Instead, he resorted to elbowing Kristin, who was sitting to his right, pointing to the TV, and shrugging.  

“You haven’t seen this movie before?” BITCHASS shakes his head. “Don’t worry, you’ll love it.”  

She was right. The stop motion was beautiful and made him fall in love with the movie immediately. If that wasn’t enough, the songs were absolutely amazing. He could hear Techno singing them to his left despite him obviously trying to be quiet and sneaky about it.  

Phil and Kristin would dramatically grab each other and mouth some lines during the movie. It made BITCHASS giggle to himself.  

Near the halfway point, BITCHASS started getting a little tired. He had long since finished his dinner and was laying down, so he semi-curled into Techno’s side and sleepily watched the movie. Techno grabs his hand absentmindedly, and Kristin starts mindlessly playing with his hair. Soon enough, he was out like a light with a smile spread across his face.  

This was his best Halloween ever.  

Chapter Text

Thanksgiving. A holiday Techno hadn’t celebrated in years. He doesn’t even know how long it’s actually been.  

They were all off for the entirety of Thanksgiving week. Ranboo and Tubbo had been hanging out more. Tommy had been talking to them all about how Tubbo and Tommy were foster siblings years ago, but Tubbo was the only one adopted by the family. He asked them to not bring it up once he was there as it was a sore spot for them both.  

Obviously, they agreed immediately. They’d do anything to make Tommy and his friends happy.  

It was now the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. One day before Techno’s family and some of their friends would come over and eat together. It would be the first time they all ate in the dining room instead of the kitchen.  

“I know I’ve asked you this a million times already, but who all is coming again?” Techno asks. “For Thanksgiving dinner.”  

“You know that you, Tommy, BITCHASS, Kristin, and I will be there.” Techno nods. “Tommy invited Ranboo and Tubbo, BITCHASS invited James, and I invited my friend Niki.”  

“Is her last name Nihachu?” Techno asks quickly. Phil nods, and Techno laughs. “That’s Tommy’s teacher.”  

“We’ve been friends for a while,” Phil admits. “I don’t know how I didn’t know she was Tommy’s teacher.” He joins Techno in laughing.  

“That will be a fun surprise for Tommy, don’t you think?” Techno asks. Phil starts laughing again.  

Techno leaves the living room, still laughing softly to himself, and heads to the kitchen to get some water, which is what he came down here for originally. Talking to Phil was just a major plus.  

He gets his glass of water and starts thinking about Christmas presents. Sure, it’s only November, but Phil said they were going to go Christmas shopping the first weekend of December. That was coming up quicker than he expected.  

Techno already knows what Phil is buying for BITCHASS. It was pretty obvious. He wasn’t sure what Tommy would get, but he knew it would be just as perfect as BITCHASS’s. Techno didn’t expect any gifts from anyone. He knew he’d get them, but he certainly wasn’t expecting anything. His father never gave him more than one gift.  

He’ll still never forgive his father for not letting him know what the modern world was like. Up until age seven, Techno didn’t know what electricity was, or cars, or electric ovens, or microwaves, or Halloween, or what the outside of his house looked like.  

Wait. Christmas presents. Back to that.  

Techno had the perfect idea for Phil and Kristin. Recently, at the library, he had stumbled upon two adorable stuffed animals labeled Frog and Toad. They were definitely lovers, so it would be perfect for them two.  

Tommy was a different story. He wasn’t as much of an open book yet. Sure, they had known each other since May (six months now), but it takes a lot to trust people, especially when all you’ve known is mistrust. But he loved his stuffed spider, Shroud, so much, so Techno decided to get him a good gift: a stuffed pig.   

BITCHASS was very open. He talked about his love for music, instruments, baking, and art; he talked about his hatred of cooking, doing the dishes, doing the laundry, and cotton clothes. The family made sure to never buy him anything that was cotton. He did love sheep, so Techno wants to search for the perfect sheep plush.  

Techno was back upstairs in his room sitting at his desk. His laptop was open to a website that kept track of all the stores and stalls in the town and two neighboring towns. Hopefully he’d be able to find what he was looking for before Christmas shopping.  

He doesn’t even know how that will work. BITCHASS and him weren’t able to get a job yet. Techno doesn’t even know if he’s ready to apply for a job yet. Neither of them had any money. Tommy wasn’t even old enough to legally work (which he claimed was bullshit). He was not particularly fond of child labor laws.  

Techno was looking at spending close to $60 on their gifts, but they would be perfect for all of them, and that’s what he wants, what he needs. He needs his first Christmas with them, their first Christmas together, to be absolutely perfect. It needs to be unforgettable.  

So Techno searches. He searches until Phil calls him down for dinner, and once he finishes his shower later, he’s back to searching. Techno would’ve searched for the most perfect gifts for them until the early morning hours if BITCHASS didn’t come check on him like he did every night since Techno forced himself to stay up for hours.  

“You should go to bed,” BITCHASS says, leaning against Techno’s doorframe. He knows BITCHASS will stand there until Techno gets off his computer and gets into bed. He’s stood there for an hour before.  

“I know, but I am searching for the best places to get the perfect presents for you guys. This Christmas needs to be perfect, so the presents from me have to be perfect,” Techno explains, leaning closer to his laptop. The laptop was the only source of light in his room currently.  

“You can do that on Friday. Ranboo and Tubbo are coming over pretty early to help set up everything, and you need your rest,” BITCHASS says. “I will shut your computer for you.”  

Techno finally stops and sighs, staring up at BITCHASS. All BITCHASS does is smirk.  

“Really? Would you really close my laptop?”   

“I would.”  

“Prove it,” Techno challenges, crossing his arms and smirking himself.  

BITCHASS takes one step into his room and shuts the laptop. Then, for good measure, he grabs it and slips it under his arm. Now he’s smirking while Techno’s jaw drops.   

“I mean, I did say to prove it. That ones on me,” Techno admits, standing up. He was glad he remembered to change into his pajamas after his shower instead of into jeans.   

“Bedtime, Techno,” BITCHASS says, taking his spot back leaning against Techno’s doorframe. Techno playfully rolls his eyes (he smiles while he does it so BITCHASS knows he isn’t actually rolling his eyes at him).    

“Fine, you win,” Techno says, just like every night when he’s up when BITCHASS checks on him. This time, he hits BITCHASS with something he wasn’t expecting. “How have you been sleeping?”  

BITCHASS pauses and tries to come up with an excuse. During that time, Techno has moved to his spot by the wall, leaving the spot Tommy and BITCHASS usually sleep.  

“That’s what I thought. Come on, you know you want to,” Techno offers, pulling the covers back. BITCHASS tries to come up with an excuse one last time before sighing and climbing in next to Techno.  

“I only started sleeping bad last night,” he grumbles. “How’d you catch on so quick?”  

“I’m observant,” is all Techno will say about the topic. He turns to face the wall and mumbles a goodnight. BITCHASS says goodnight, and a few moments later, his foot is resting on Techno’s knee.  

Every night they sleep together, they always have to be touching. It’s not just Techno and BITCHASS, it’s them with Tommy. Usually, they’ll hold hands because it feels safe. Sometimes, they’ll place their hand on the other’s shoulder, or feet resting on knees, or even just resting their hand against their back.  

It made them all feel safe, and that’s all that matters really.  

Techno wakes up, and BITCHASS’s gone already. He expected this, but it still makes him feel slightly lonely. But it’s fine, and he heads downstairs for his morning cup of water.   

“I will never understand how either of you can drink coffee. Or wake up early,” Techno says, feeling refreshed from the night before. It wasn’t a feeling he was particularly used to, but he wasn’t complaining. The feeling was nice.  

“Oh, no, I drink coffee,” Phil says, motioning to his cup of black coffee. “BITCHASS drinks creamer and sugar.”  

“It tastes good. One day I’ll make it for you, Tech, and you’ll join the coffee side,” BITCHASS promises.   

Techno freezes for half a second. BITCHASS called him Tech . He has a nickname! Techno has a nickname! Oh, he could scream ! In a good way, of course.  

“Say the name again,” he finds himself saying, smiling as he gets more water.  

“Tech?”  

“Again.”  

“Tech!”  

“Again!”  

“Tech, Tech, Tech, Tech!”   

They spend the next few minutes repeating the nickname with Techno jumping around happily and shaking his fists. The two were so busy being happy they didn’t notice Kristin had come in.  

“And what’s got my bird boys stimming?” she asks Phil.  

“BITCHASS called Techno a nickname, and Techno fell in love with it,” Phil explains, smiling and sipping his disgusting coffee.  

“Tech, Tech, Tech!” BITCHASS shouts.   

“What’s stimming?” Techno asks, still jumping and waving his hands around like crazy. “Say it again, BITCHASS!”  

“Tech!”  

“Stimming is those movements you do when you’re feeling a lot of emotions, good or bad. I’ve noticed you all jump around and shake your fists as stims. Stimming is good. Don’t feel embarrassed by it. I stim,” Kristin says. Techno nods and turns back to BITCHASS, telling him to repeat the nickname again.  

Tommy comes downstairs, is told the story, then joins in with calling Techno the nickname. When Ranboo and Tubbo arrive together half an hour later, they call Techno by his new nickname as much as possible.  

“What time is James coming over?” Phil asks BITCHASS while he prepared the chicken. Apparently, Thanksgiving dinner was really early. Niki was coming over for it at 3 pm, and they planned to eat at 3:30! Why was it so early?  

“He said he’d leave around 2:45, so probably at like 3:15,” BITCHASS says, turning away from the gravy he was stirring. Ever since he burned cereal, he was banned from any type of cooking. Now he just mixes.  

“Alright, that’s perfect. Thank you,” Phil says, turning back to the chicken. BITCHASS simply hums in response, smiling to himself. Techno elbows him teasingly.  

Soon, they were all sitting around the dining room table, passing around bowls and plates of food. Techno picked things he knew he’d like, not wanting to risk trying something new and hating it.  

“Should we all say things we’re thankful for?” Phil suggests. Everyone nods, and Techno squirms a bit in his seat, nervous his would be cheesy.  

“I can go first,” he blurts.   

“That’s fine with me,” Phil says easily, giving Techno a reassuring smile. Techno takes a deep breath before smiling back.  

“I’m thankful for everyone here, but mostly, I’m thankful for my family,” he says. Everyone smiles, and BITCHASS goes next.  

BITCHASS says he’s thankful for food, James says he’s thankful for music, Niki says she’s thankful for friends, Kristin says she’s thankful for her boys (all four of them smile like idiots at that), Tubbo says he’s thankful for the school for bringing him and Tommy back together and for introducing Ranboo to them, Ranboo says he’s thankful for medicine and science, Tommy says he’s thankful to be alive with his family, and Phil says he’s thankful for everything.  

Finally, they all begin to eat together. Friends and family alike telling stories and jokes and laughing with each other. It feels like in this moment, nothing bad can ever happen to them. Nothing will ever hurt them again, and nothing will go wrong. As long as they have each other, they’ll be okay.  

Techno knows it’s somewhat wrong. Yes, things will go wrong and bad things will happen. They’ll get hurt, they’ll make mistakes, there will be misunderstandings. It’s part of being human. None of them will ever be perfect.  

But he also knows there’s some truth. If they have each other, things will be okay. They’ll work out misunderstandings, apologize for mistakes, patch up injuries. Together, they’re powerful.  

Techno has never felt love like this before. He’s never been able to sit in a room full of people and know that each and every single one of them love him, and he loves each of them with every cell in his body. It’s refreshing to finally feel love this way.  

He smiles to himself as Phil tells stories and everyone laughs. It’s moments like these that he’ll remember forever.  

Chapter Text

When Techno stepped into his science classroom for first period, it was below freezing and grey outside. After English class, it was snowing and the outside world was covered in white.  

At first, Techno just thought it was raining. It was cold, but it looked like rain. Once he saw how it had gathered on the grass, the sidewalks, Phil’s windshield, everything, he realized that this was snow. After all these years, Techno was seeing snow.  

“It’s snowing!” Tommy shouts as they step outside. He immediately begins trying to eat the snow.  

“Snow?” BITCHASS asks, sticking his hand out. Snow falls into it, and he shakes it off.  

“Yes, snow,” Techno says in slight disbelief.  

They get into Phil’s car, and Tommy is excitedly chattering about how cool the snow was.  

“It didn’t taste how I expected,” he admits after buckling in. Phil laughs.  

“How’d you expect it to taste?” Phil asks, peering at Tommy from the rearview mirror. He simply shrugs and stares out at the snow falling.  

“I don’t know. Maybe a bit more like sugar,” Tommy replies, still staring outside.  

“Oh, Techno! Check the bag at your feet,” Phil says. Techno raises an eyebrow, but he shrugs and grabs the plastic bag. Inside was-  

“Pink hair dye?” Techno almost yells. He stares at the bottle in shock and disbelief. “Wait, are you for real? This isn’t a joke, right?”  

“It’s for real,” Phil confirms with a smile. “We can do it once we get home if you’d like. If you want to wait, that’s fine too.”  

“No, no, let’s do it once we get home. Please,” Techno says, almost begging. Phil laughs and nods.  

“Of course, Tech. We can do that,” Phil assures him, still smiling.  

“BITCHASS, Tommy, will you help me?” Techno asks, turning around. They both nod happily, and Techno turns back around, stimming like crazy. He’s just so happy! He’ll be getting his pink hair!  

In Techno’s brain, it takes them far too long to get home and crammed into the upstairs bathroom. Techno wants his hair to be pink, and he wants it now!  

He waits patiently for Phil to read the directions and get the bleach together. If he wanted the pink to show up properly, he’d have to bleach his naturally dark brown hair. It made the process longer, but it’d be so worth it in the end.  

Techno squirms as Phil accidentally pulls on his hair, hating the applying process already. This sucks! But he has to remember that he’ll be getting beautiful pink hair out of this, so it’s all worth it in the end.  

Over two hours later, his hair is pink. Kristin came over with milkshakes for all of them when Techno was rinsing out the bleach, so he had been enjoying his strawberry milkshake while he dyed his hair pink.  

“Phil?” he asks as Phil lathers the pink dye into his hair, making sure to get down to the scalp. He was being a lot gentler this time thankfully.  

“Yes, Tech?” Phil replies. Techno smiles at the nickname.  

“Why are strawberries associated with the colour pink when they are very clearly red?” Techno asks, attempting to swirl around his milkshake.   

“Maybe because they’re pink once they’re blended,” Phil suggests, motioning to the pink drink in Techno’s hands. He shrugs and drinks some of it.  

“Maybe,” he agrees.  

Phil finishes the dye job, and finally, finally, Techno can see his new hair. Well, he has to shower first. Then he can see his new beautifully pink hair.  

“It’s perfect,” he whispers, hands covering his mouth. Kristin has just finished blow-drying and styling his shoulder length hair. “I love it.”  

“I’m glad you do,” Phil says, leaning against Kristin. They both smile at each other as they watch Techno gently run his fingers through his new hair.  

“Thank you. Thank you so much,” he says, voice barely louder than a whisper. “Can I please hug you both?”  

With a nod, Techno crashes into them both, squeezing them as tightly as he could, still whispering thanks. They squeeze him back, running their hands through his new hair.  

“Tommy, BITCHASS!” he shouts, falling into the hallway. Techno’s never been this loud, but his brothers need to know his hair is perfect and finished! They both tumble out of BITCHASS’s room and stare in shock. Techno can tell it’s a good shock.  

“Holy shit!” Tommy shouts, laughing. “It looks fucking great on you!”  

“It does! It suits you so well, Tech,” BITCHASS agrees, much quieter than Tommy. They all jump around and hold each other, laughing and admiring Techno’s new hair.  

That night Kristin stays the night since they’re going Christmas shopping the next morning. Phil promised he’d explain more on their way to the market stalls down the street.  

Techno almost doesn’t sleep that night because he’s so excited. He’s not sure when sleep pulls him in, but at some point, it does, and he’s waking up for Christmas shopping soon enough.  

“What’s the plan?” Tommy asks, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he walks into the kitchen for breakfast.  

“Should I explain now or after we’ve all eaten?” Phil asks. Tommy seems to think about this for a minute.  

“After we eat. You understand better on a full stomach,” Tommy says. Phil nods in agreement before serving breakfast.  

“We’ll head down to the market. You’ll each have $100 to spend there. Once we have our gifts, we’ll go to the next town over where the library is. You’ll have $100 to spend there plus whatever left over money you have from the market. Does this sound good?” Phil says. The three teens stare at him with their jaws dropped.  

“That’s so much money!”  

“How did you even get all of that?”  

“Are you sure you’re okay with us spending this much money?”  

“Yeah, are you sure?”  

“You don’t have to do that, Phil.”  

“Calm down, calm down,” Phil says with a laugh. “I’m okay with letting you all spend that much and more if needed. My job pays me well, BITCHASS. That’s how I got the money.”  

“If you’re sure this is okay,” Techno says with a shrug, pushing his chair back and heading to drop his dishes in the sink so he can do them later that night.  

Twenty minutes later they’re at the markets. Tommy ran off to two women, yelling to them about how he’s ready now.   

“Good morning,” he says to someone at a wagon type stand selling plushies and cookies. “Do you have- oh, hey Tubbo!”  

“Techno! Is it just you here?” Tubbo asks, leaning over the side if the stand.   

“No, everyone else is with me. We’re Christmas shopping,” Techno explains. He then notices the older man sitting in a wheelchair.  

“Hi, I’m Scar, Tubbo’s older brother!” he introduces cheerfully, sticking out a hand. Techno instantly relaxes and shakes his hand. He’s heard a lot about Scar from Tubbo and Tommy. Scar was Tubbo’s parents’ biological son.  

“Tommy and Tubbo have told me a lot about you,” Techno says, shocked he’s actually talking to someone without freaking out.   

“All good things I hope,” Scar says with a laugh. Techno and Tubbo laugh with him. He’s got a contagious laugh.  

“Nope! All we talk about is how you keep shooting me with your NERF bow,” Tubbo teases, still laughing.  

“I’ve got to use my great aim for something, and if that something is shooting my little brother, then so be it,” Scar replies.   

“I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Techno, Tommy’s oldest brother,” Techno introduces. Scar’s eyes widen slightly and he raises his eyebrows.  

“Oh! I’ve heard about you! Yeah, you and William are Tommy’s older brothers,” Scar recalls.  

“BITCHASS, Scar. His name is BITCHASS,” Tubbo corrects. Scar shrugs.  

“Same thing,” he says. “Anyway, are you here to buy something?”  

“Oh! Yes! Do you happen to have a pig plush and a sheep plush?” Techno asks, glancing over at the bin of stuffed animals that sat to the left of the stall.  

“I think so, but Tubbo is the one who mainly works with the stuffed animals, so you’ll have to check with him. My area of expertise is quilt making and cookies. Would you like a cookie?” Scar offers as Tubbo searches the bin.  

“Sure,” Techno accepts, pulling out a five-dollar bill to give to Scar, but he laughs and shakes his head.  

“We don’t charge for the cookies,” Scar explains. “They’re free.”  

“I feel bad just taking it. Baking ingredients aren’t free,” Techno points out.  

“I can afford them,” Scar says simply.  

“Can I tip you?”   

“Technically.”  

Techno places the bill down on the stall, challenging Scar to reject it and give it back. He doesn’t. Instead, he shrugs and places it in his pocket.  

“I found the stuffed animals you wanted, Tech!” Tubbo exclaims, emerging from the bin he was just waist deep in a moment ago. In his hands he holds an adorable crocheted pig and an even more cute crocheted sheep. He places them in a bag and hands them to Techno.  

“Tubbo, these are adorable. How much?” Techno says, ready to pay at least $20 each.  

“$10,” Tubbo says. Techno nods and begins to pull out two ten-dollar bills, but Tubbo stops him. “No, I said $10.”  

“Each?”  

“In total.”  

“Can I tip you ?”  

“Technically.”  

Why do these brothers have the exact same vocabulary?  

Techno is suddenly reminded of all the phrases him and his brothers have stolen from each other. Hell, Phil and Kristin had stolen some phrases from them. It was only far after they had phrases stolen.  

Techno places down an extra ten-dollar bill, nodding and thanking the brothers for their service. Since his last gift is only available at the library, he ends up wandering the stalls and trying to find his family.  

Ten minutes later, they’re all heading to the next town over, bags in the trunk with their names on them so presents are spoiled. Tommy is practically vibrating in his seat.  

It doesn’t take them much longer to arrive in the next town, which was just slightly bigger than their little town. They had a library and all the restaurants, fast food places, and the ice cream parlor the family loved to frequent.  

“This place is a bit bigger, but that’s okay. If you get lost, try to find your way to the big clock tower. We’ll all meet there after we’re done,” Phil tells them. They all nod, Phil gives them their $100, then they’re on their way.  

Techno makes his way towards the library, the cold biting at him. The wind blows harshly around him, causing the ends of his coat to whip around his hips. He pulls his arms around him, trying to conserve warmth. Finally, he arrives at the library.  

A bell rings as he opens and closes the door. Techno smiles to himself as he stomps the snow off his boots. He really likes that noise!  

“Hello! I’m Shelby. How may I help you?” a short woman with blonde hair (although her roots are dark brown). Techno sends her a soft smile.  

“I was in here a few weeks ago, and I was wondering if you still had your Frog and Toad stuffed animals,” Techno says, but in all honesty, it sounds more like a question.  

“Oh, yeah, we still do! Follow me,” Shelby says, walking around the counter and waving for Techno to follow her. Techno, still smiling at the realization that Phil and Kristin will love this, follows her quickly.  

“Here they are!” Shelby says, handing Techno a box that held the two stuffed animals and some books that Techno assumed the characters were from. “Will that be all, or do you need help finding something else?”  

“I’m ready to pay now,” Techno says, and they had back to the register. “Um, quick question.”  

“What’s up?” Shelby asks, taking her spot back from behind the desk.   

“Which one is Toad and which one is Frog?”  

“Frog is the tall green one, and Toad is the short brown one,” Shelby explains happily. Her happiness was rubbing off on Techno making him happy.  

“Oh, thank you! Another question. Do you have a bag I can put this in? It’s a Christmas present for my parents, and they’re driving me home. I don’t want the surprise to be ruined,” he explains. She nods and wraps the gift in a bag.  

Techno walks out of the library with the gift and smiles to himself, feeling warm inside despite the fact it was snowing out.  

As he walks to the clock tower, he notices Tommy standing there nervously. He seemed really happy to see him until Techno threw a snowball that hit him square in the nose.  

That caused an all-out war that the rest of the family joined in on once they made it to the clock tower. It was every person for themselves, and they all climbed back in the car with grins and red faces.  

Chapter Text

Christmas breakfast. Something none of the boys had experienced with a family since they lived with their biological family. Needless to say, it was perfect.  

Phil and Kristin woke up early to finish the final touches on decorating. Then, once all the presents were out, they went to the kitchen to cook breakfast for their boys. By the time BITCHASS came downstairs, there was pancake batter all over the place.  

“You two,” BITCHASS teases, smiling at the two. To him, they were so obviously in love. They’d only been dating since June, but BITCHASS could tell that Kristin would be a part of his life for the next few decades.  

“What does that mean?” Kristin asks in a mock-offended tone. She places her hands on her hips, and BITCHASS laughs quietly to himself as he adds his creamer and sugar to his coffee.  

“Nothing, nothing, ignore me,” he says defensively. Phil tugs at Kristin’s sleeve, and they go back to cooking breakfast.  

Eventually, the rest of the family comes down in the matching pajamas Kristin ordered them. They were simple, just red flannel, but Tommy, Techno, and BITCHASS were so happy to finally be included in the whole family matching thing they were always excluded from.  

“Remember the first time BITCHASS and Techno tried a lemon from the lemon trees?” Tommy mumbles sleepily as he sits at his spot at the kitchen table. “Phil’s was even worse. It was so stereotypical.”  

“We’ve never seen you eat a lemon, Toms,” BITCHASS points out. Tommy hums happily at the nickname. “How do you react to them?”  

“I don’t,” Tommy states, laying his head down. BITCHASS scoffs and exits the room, presumably heading to the side of the house to grab a lemon. It was almost too late in the year for them.  

A moment later, he comes back into the kitchen with a lemon in hand. He raises it up slightly and places it on the counter, searching for the knives.  

“BITCHASS, not on the counter, please,” Kristin says, grabbing the cutting board and handing it over to him. He smiles at her and cuts the lemon up before dropping it on the table in front of Tommy.  

Tommy simply grabs a slice, sucks the juice out of it, spits out a seed, and repeats on another slice. He does this without even opening his eyes. BITCHASS stares in horror, Phil chuckles to himself, Kristin continues cooking, and Techno shrugs because it’s Tommy.   

“Those lemon trees were the first things I noticed when looking out my window. Every time I looked outside, there they were,” Techno says.  

“Me too,” BITCHASS mumbles, still shocked at Tommy’s response. Tommy shoves another lemon slice in his mouth.  

“Same,” Tommy says once he finishes his lemon slice. He finally sits up and opens his eyes. “I’ve had so many nightmares, and most of them took place here. Outside the trees would always be different, usually lime. I knew home was where the lemon trees were, so I’d always checked. It usually helped.”  

“I like that. It’s clever,” BITCHASS says, ruffling Tommy’s hair. “But why the hell do you casually eat lemons?”  

“I don’t find them sour,” Tommy says with a shrug. BITCHASS stares at him baffled, and Tommy replies with a wide grin.  

“You are strange,” BITCHASS says. Tommy nods in agreement.  

“Remember when we all figured out we had met at some point?” Tommy asks again moments later. “BITCHASS, you learned to fight from Techno and you saved me from those god-awful rubber gloves.” Tommy shudders at the thought of those things.  

“Not to mention BITCHASS also knew Kristin because she was his old school nurse when he was in middle school,” Phil adds on.  

“Next thing you know I knew Phil because he was my kindergarten teacher,” BITCHASS says with a laugh.  

“I did teach kindergarten some twelve years ago,” Phil says. BITCHASS stares at him in horror, and Phil laughs. “Don’t worry, I’m joking. I’ve only lived in this state for five years.”  

“We still could’ve run into each other,” BITCHASS points out. He sits down at his spot at the kitchen and rests his chin in his hands. “I’m curious now. Could we have ever known each other before?”  

“I highly doubt it. As soon as I came here, I picked up a job at the aquarium, and the only time I went out was to get groceries. Hell, you three are my first experience with fostering,” Phil admits.  

“You and Kristin met at the aquarium, right?” Tommy asks. Phil and Kristin nod in confirmation. “You met when?”  

“I think it was around May, right?” Kristin asks. Phil nods.   

“May 13 th ,” he says.  

“Why do you remember that?”  

“No reason.”  

“Anyway. It was my first day there, and he had to train me. Instantly, we started talking, a month later we started going out, and a month later I met you three,” Kristin recalls.   

“It’s been six months together,” Phil adds. They smile at each other, so obviously in love. Phil seems like he wants to say something more, but he keeps his mouth shut.  

“Guys? Breakfast is still on the stove,” BITCHASS reminds them. They both snap back to reality and spin around in sync.  

“BITCHASS, you cannot say a damn thing about cooking,” Tommy mumbles from his spot. BITCHASS sits up straight.  

“And why not?” he challenges, staring at his younger brother.  

“You literally burnt cereal, big man. I’m not sure how you messed up that badly, but you did, and it should be all over the news,” Tommy reminds him. BITCHASS slouches over.  

“I’m sorry, he did what ?” Kristin asks, laughing throughout the entire question. Tommy just nods and refuses to elaborate in his tired state.   

“No clue how, but it was easily the strangest thing he’s ever done,” Phil adds.   

“BITCHASS ABUSER, how on earth did you manage to mess up cooking that badly? You seemed to do wonderfully when you first cooked for me,” Kristin says.   

“That’s because he was simply a helper,” Techno replies. “It wasn’t just him cooking.”  

“I didn’t do much of anything with that dish. Any other dish you ate that was made by us was made mostly by Tommy and Phil,” BITCHASS says. Tommy holds a thumbs up for a moment before laying his arm back down.  

“On that horrifying note, breakfast is ready. We have chocolate chip pancakes, regular pancakes, scrambled eggs, hard boiled eggs, sausage patties, hash browns, tater tots, and bacon, both crunchy and chewy,” Kristin says, stepping away from the stove. Phil reaches over to turn everything off.  

“You two really should have aprons,” Tommy mumbles before he stands up and serves himself some breakfast. BITCHASS grins to himself, and Techno notices but doesn’t say anything. Whatever BITCHASS has planned will be great, and Techno doesn’t want to risk doing that.  

“I’m going to make hot chocolate. Phil, will you put on the movie we all agreed on last night?” Kristin asks once everyone is done eating and cleaning up after themselves. Phil nods and the three teens follow him to the living room so they can help set up where they were all going to lay.  

Techno, Tommy, and BITCHASS head to the hall closet so Techno and Tommy can grab the blankets and BITCHASS can grab the pillows. They go through their usual routine of laying all the blankets down, folding over the top one, and BITCHASS haphazardly throwing pillows onto their spots.  

Each of them had their own special pillows. BITCHASS’s had a yellow pillowcase, Techno’s had a pink pillowcase, Tommy’s was red, Phil’s was green, and Kristin’s was purple. They were special, and no one else was allowed to use the pillows.   

Kristin was still making the hot chocolate, so they all take their places with Tommy on the far left, Techno next to him, BITCHASS in the middle, a space open for Kristin, and Phil on the far right. Whenever Kristin walks in with the tray of hot chocolate, Phil is seconds away from starting a pillow fight (which seems to be a reoccurring thing in this household).  

Kristin takes her spot in between BITCHASS and Phil, and everyone grabs a mug of hot chocolate. Phil presses play on the remote, and the start of Home Alone plays.   

After the first one ends, the teenagers all agree that is their new favourite movie. They all start stimming in excitement whenever Phil goes to put on the second movie.  

“Is there a third one? Please tell me there is,” Tommy says after the second one ends.  

“Yes but no,” Phil replies. Everyone stares at him in confusion. “There’s a third and a fourth movie, but they use different actors, and they just aren’t as good.”  

“But the Wet/Sticky Bandits are such good characters! Why would you ever change that?” Tommy complains. Phil laughs and shrugs.  

“No clue, mate,” he admits. Tommy crosses his arms and tries to sip out of an empty mug.  

“BITCHASS, Tech, we could be this century’s Wet Bandits,” Tommy suddenly says. BITCHASS and Techno stare at their little brother in bewilderment. “I know, it’s a great idea. No need to thank me.”  

“We are not becoming criminals,” Techno says, standing up to go put all of their mugs into the sink and start their Christmas lunch. Kristin follows after him.  

“We can be criminals together, Tommy,” BITCHASS whispers. Phil smiles and shakes his head as he leaves to go help the other two cook lunch since they were expecting three more people than usual.  

“Crime boys,” Tommy whispers back. “We’re crime boys, BITCHASS.”  

A little later, lunch is ready. It wasn’t anything too fancy; just some ham and turkey with mac and cheese as a side option. They would be eating dinner fairly early so they could go watch a light show later that night.  

Moments later, there’s a knock at the door. Tommy runs and almost slips and falls, but he throws open the door to see his two best friends standing there. Ranboo had a Santa hat on, and Tubbo had his usual ram horn headband replaced with a shitty Dollar Store headband with reindeer antlers on them.  

“Festive. I like it,” Tommy says with a laugh. “Come on in. We just finished making lunch. James is meant to be here later.”  

Tommy is so happy he gets to spend Christmas with his best friends and his new family. He’d spent Christmas with Tubbo once, back when they lived together as little kids, but it had been years since then. They could finally have Christmas together again.  

They could be a family, even if it wasn’t legal.  

James shows up some time later, and they all have fun telling stories while they eat lunch. Every keeps telling BITCHASS that he’s obviously the youngest there, and he keeps jokingly leaning into the bit.  

“BITCHASS, I am pretty sure I’m older than you,” Ranboo jokes. They weren’t, but the two were close enough in age that it made BITCHASS pause and genuinely think about it for a moment.  

“No you aren’t!” BITCHASS exclaims. Ranboo stifles a laugh. “You’re a junior!”  

“Yet I’m still taller than you,” Ranboo points out.   

“That is really cool. I’ve never met anyone who was taller than me,” BITCHASS admits thoughtfully. Ranboo smiles and continues eating his ham.  

“Even some of our other friends agree he’s definitely a younger brother,” James adds. “He’s the second oldest in our group.”  

“James, I am older than you,” BITCHASS says with a grin. “However, I’ve been living with Techno and Tommy for over seven months. I’m an expert at being an annoying younger brother.” He pauses for a moment, thinking. “Come to think of it, I’m pretty sure Tommy’s younger brother-ness rubbed off on me.”  

“Uh huh, sure,” Techno says sarcastically. “Tommy totally rubbed off on you. Yeah, I believe it.”  

“He did!” BITCHASS argues.  

“Younger brother behaviour,” Techno, Ranboo, Tubbo, and James all say at once. Everyone bursts out into laughter, and they soon go back to eating.  

After they finish lunch, everyone is practically vibrating with excitement. During lunch, Kristin had announced that they would be opening their presents know that everyone that needed to be here was here.  

“Phil, you first!” Tommy shouts excitedly. He drags over a box and two bags. “You’re the oldest.”  

“Thank you, Tommy,” Phil says with a chuckle. Tommy grins and stands next to Phil for a moment.  

“My present is in my room, so let me go grab that for you. Don’t open a single gift,” Tommy threatens jokingly. He darts upstairs, and everyone else sits there and discusses what they think it is.  

“Did you already exchange gifts?” Phil asks James, Ranboo, and Tubbo. They all nod, and Ranboo and Tubbo talk about the matching sweaters, bracelets, and rings they now had.   

“Back! Phil, look at them!” Tommy shouts, running down stairs with a tall white vase in his hands. He almost falls and drops it, but he catches it at the very last second.  

“Are these roses?” Phil asks breathlessly, smelling the red flowers. Tommy nods eagerly. “Thank you so much. I love them.”  

Kristin hands over a bag, and Phil pulls out a quilt that had all sorts of colours and patterns. He immediately wraps it around himself and whistles in happiness. She simply smiles in response.  

“BITCHASS, is this a custom apron?” Phil asks, holding up the green apron with purple flowers. BITCHASS nods, and Tommy bursts out into laughter.  

“You finally got an apron, old man!” he shouts. “Wait, I forgot about my other gift!”  

Tommy runs outside and comes back, covered in snow with a large stick in his hands.  

“I know you’re old, so I got you this cane!” Tommy yells. His grin is so wide and genuine that Phil knows his cheeks must hurt.  

“Thank you, Tommy,” Phil says through laughter. “Please leave it outside, though.” Tommy nods immediately and tosses it next to the back door.  

“Yes, Philza Minecraft. Anything for you, Philza Minecraft.”  

“That’s not my name!”  

“This present is part of a matching set with Kristin, so I want Kristin to open hers at the same time. She has to open her presents next anyway,” Techno says as Tommy spreads out on Ranboo and Tubbo’s lap. They both shove him off at the same time, causing Tommy to giggle uncontrollably.  

“That’s fine. Where’s the other one?” Kristin asks. Techno hands her a baby blue bag.  

At the same time, they open the bags to show Frog and Toad stuffed animals. Phil holds Frog in his hands, and Kristin holds Toad.  

“They’re lovers,” is the only explanation Techno offers. Kristin hugs Toad close.  

“Thank you,” they both say. Techno nods and flushes slightly red before sitting back down next to BITCHASS.  

“We’ll go with Kristin next,” Tommy says patiently, pulling yet another tall white vase out from nearby. In the vase is a bunch of lilies, both white and pink. Kristin gingerly takes the vase from Tommy’s hands, carefully examining each petal.  

“These are absolutely beautiful, Tommy. Thank you so much,” Kristin says. Tommy smiles and starts bouncing again, almost falling into Tubbo and Ranboo.  

“They’re really pretty, just like you, so I thought you should have them,” Tommy explains, playing with his hands after he sits back up. Kristin smiles and nods.  

“This is from me,” BITCHASS says, handing her a bag. She opens it and inside is a purple apron with green flowers; the exact opposite of Phil’s.  

“You got them matching aprons!” Tommy shouts. “That’s so cool, man.”  

“It is. Thank you so much BITCHASS. I’ll wear these every time I cook, whether I’m hear or not,” Kristin says with a huge grin. Phil smiles over at her, noticing how the greens and purples are the exact same shade.  

The apron was originally meant to be a gag gift, but he realized it would be so lovely if he just bought the happy couple a matching set. Sure, it cost him a little extra, but he was willing to pay even more if it meant seeing them happy.  

“My gift isn’t ready yet, so let’s move onto Techno,” Phil says. Techno nods and switches places with James. BITCHASS immediately begins poking James in the sides.  

“Can I go first again?” Tommy asks. Techno nods, and Tommy pulls out another tall white vase. His gifts seem to have a reoccurring theme, but the family doesn’t mind. It’s obvious he spent so much time and effort figuring out the perfect flowers for each of them.  

The vase is full of dandelions. Sure, most people view the yellow flowers as nothing more than pesky weeds, but Techno loved them. He loved them so much, and he gently brushes each petal gently.  

“Can I hug you?” he asks once he’s done investigating the flowers. Tommy nods, and Techno throws his arms over his shoulders. “Thank you. I love them so much.”  

A moment later, the two separate, and they’re both smiling wider than ever.  

“I know how much you loved the petting zoo we went to,” BITCHASS starts, handing Techno a bright pink bag, “so I got you this.”  

Techno pulls out a crocheted pig that’s as brightly pink as his hair. He holds it to his cheek, and the soft yarn makes him start clicking his tongue and rocking in happiness.   

“I love it,” he whispers, still rubbing the soft fabric on his face. BITCHASS smiles in victory, and his family and friends wait for Techno to finish stimming. “Okay. I’m ready for the next one.”  

“Well, I’ve noticed you’re always writing in your Greek mythology book from Mark,” Kristin explains, grabbing the bag. Techno insisted they stop calling Mark his father. It was much easier mentally to refer to him by his name. Plus, that title was reserved for someone else. “I got you this.”  

Techno opens the bag to find a beautifully thick and empty notebook with tons of pens. They’re Techno’s favourite brand. He doesn’t know how Kristin even remembered that.  

“You don’t have to write in it, of course,” she adds. “It can just be for decoration. I don’t want you thinking I’m trying to replace anything.”  

While Kristin is explaining, Techno has already opened the book and package of pen. He writes everyone’s name that he can think of. Then, he writes Tech about fifty times. It was his favourite name after all.  

“It’s beautiful, and you got me my favourite brand of pens,” Techno says quietly, admiring the spine. “Thank you.” Kristin simply smiles and nods.  

“Kristin and I had fairly similar ideas,” Phil says with a chuckle, pulling out a wrapped box. Techno smiles at him.  

“Two great minds think alike,” he reminds him. Phil smiles and nods, handing the box to Techno.  

It was taped just perfectly enough that Techno could peel the tape off without having the rip the plastic papering off itself. He liked how neat and orderly he could be, and he was so glad that his family and his family’s friends were being patient with him.  

Eventually he gets the wrapping paper off, and there lies a book. A book whose spine has not been cracked a worn with age and love, one who is dying to be broken in by Techno’s calloused hands.  

“You’ve read the other one a lot,” Phil explains, “so I thought I’d get you a new one. There may be some new Greek myths that you didn’t know.”  

“Thank you so much. It’s wonderful; it’s beautiful,” Techno says in complete awe. He moves back a little so he can admire his new book and BITCHASS can finally open his presents.  

Techno felt a little bad for taking up so much time with his gifts when Kristin and Phil were so quick with theirs, but nobody minded, and they were incredibly patient, so Techno feels a lot better. His thoughts comfort him for once, and they soothe his worries.  

“Tommy, would you like to go first?” BITCHASS asks, trying to hide his excitement. All the other flowers fit the family so well, so he was obviously very excited to see what Tommy had in store for him.  

Tommy nods eagerly and pulls the final vase out from where he was storing them. In the vase are red, purple, and yellow pansies.   

“I love these! Thank you so much,” BITCHASS says, smelling the flowers. “I’ll be sure to keep them alive as long as physically possible. No matter what.” Tommy smiles at the promise.  

“We had really similar gift ideas,” Techno says with a smile, pulling a white bag from underneath their beautifully decorated Christmas tree. Tommy smiles fondly as he remembers them hanging up all the ornaments.   

BITCHASS gingerly reaches into the bag, and he feels the soft crochet yarn that Techno’s baby pig had. He takes out the sheep and stares at the baby in awe.  

“He’s blue,” BITCHASS gasps. “Your name is Friend now. I love you. Thank you for the baby, Techno.”  

“When you word it like that, it sounds really weird.”  

“I steal my weird sentence structures from Tommy.”  

“Checks out.”  

BITCHASS grins and moves the bag away from him, keeping Friend in the same place, seated in his lap. He smiles down at him and picks him up to kiss his little soft forehead before sitting down, preparing for the next gift.  

“I noticed your guitar strings were getting old,” Kristin says, sliding over a small box. BITCHASS opens the box and stares in shock at the brass strings lying in the box.   

“I don’t know how to restring a guitar,” BITCHASS admits, still baffled. Kristin smiles warmly at him and motions for Phil.  

“Don’t worry about it, mate,” he says, pulling out a large black plastic case. BITCHASS looks to him for confirmation. When Phil nods, he flips the gold painted clasps open and lifts the top.  

Inside is a guitar, much newer and shinier than his old one. All the strings are perfect and new, and there aren’t pieces missing from it. He smiles and pulls it out before strumming a little.  

It was somehow perfectly in tune, and BITCHASS strums out a bit of a song. He smiles and places the guitar and the new strings back in the case.  

“It won’t replace your new guitar, but that wasn’t my intent,” Phil says as BITCHASS pushes the guitar to the side so it isn’t in anyone’s way. “I just thought you’d like a new one. You don’t have to get rid of the old one. Hell, you can get rid of this new one if you want.”  

In reality, BITCHASS had been wanting a new guitar for ages. His old one was tainted with bad memories of it being stolen and taken away as a punishment (although what’s the difference?). He wanted a new one that he could make new memories with, and this time they’d be good memories.  

Still, it’s hard to let go of the past.  

“Can we hang the old one up on my wall?” BITCHASS asks, still eyeing the new case. He still has a faint smile.  

“Of course you can. We’ll hang it up after we all finish opening presents,” Kristin promises, glancing over at Phil. Phil nods in agreement.  

Then it was Tommy’s turn.  

He had waited so patiently for so long, and now it was his turn in the spotlight, his turn for the attention to be all on him, his turn to have things meant for him and only him. The things were specially picked out for him because his family thought he’d love them.  

Tommy doesn’t care what he gets. As long as it’s from his family, it’ll be perfect in his eyes.  

“I will tell you why I got you this after you open it,” Techno says, handing Tommy a small purple bag. He opens it, and there lies a pink pig.  

“It matches yours,” Tommy says. Techno nods.  

“I plan on getting you different ones for each occasion that resemble a family member or one of your friends,” Techno explains thoughtfully. Tommy holds the plush to his cheek, and he almost melts at how soft the yarn was.  

“Thank you, Tech,” Tommy says quietly. He wants to ask what the next one will be or how Techno knows there will even be a next one, but he keeps quiet and takes the yellow bag from BITCHASS’s hands.  

Inside is a cow plush, made out of the same material as the two pigs and Friend. It looks like a stereotypical cow, but it takes Tommy less than a second to name it.  

“Henry,” he says immediately. “Like the one at the petting zoo, except this one is in my house and will be in my bed along with my other two stuffed animals.” BITCHASS smiles at him and his new son. “Thank you, BITCHASS.”  

The next gift is another box from Phil, and Tommy takes no time ripping it open. In his hand lies something he’d never thought he’d hold, much less own.  

“This is a camera,” Tommy says, turning the box over in his hands several times. He’s scared to open it, scared it’s not actually a camera and just some prank. Maybe this is how Phil tells him he doesn’t want him.  

“You love movies so much, and you know a lot about equipment, so I decided to get you one of your own. It’s really good quality so you can have perfect pictures and videos,” Phil explains. Tommy gingerly opens the box, terrified it might break.  

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” Tommy says as he takes the camera out. He moves back and lifts the camera up, snapping a picture of everyone staring at him.  

“Unfair! He didn’t say he was going to take a picture,” Tubbo jokingly complains. Tommy laughs and moves back to his spot, slipping the strap around his neck and letting the camera rest in his lap.  

“Finally, the last gift,” Kristin says, handing over another box. Tommy opens it and there lies film. “You can’t have a camera without an excess of film.”  

“Thank you!” he shouts. Then he shouts it again and again, loving how the words felt on his tongue and echoed around the living room.  

He jumps around and yells it again and again, and everyone watches him with smiles on their faces. Tommy thanks everything (the couch, the table, the lemon trees, his bedsheets) and laughs and shouts. Soon enough, everyone else is joining in with his shouts and laughter. They run around the living room, shouting and laughing.  

Sometime after they stop yelling and filling the living room from floor to ceiling with noise, they all head upstairs and hang BITCHASS’s old guitar on the wall to the right of his bed. He smiles at it, happy where it stands, and they head downstairs to play whatever random games Phil had and Kristin brought over.  

Eventually, it was getting dark, so Phil and Kristin sent Ranboo, Tubbo, and James on their way. The snow falls gently outside, so James drives Tubbo and Ranboo back to their houses so they wouldn’t have to walk in the below freezing temperatures.  

It was somewhat dark out, and the snow was falling in heavier sheets now. The blinds on the windows in the kitchen were open, and everyone had a mug of hot chocolate while Kristin, Phil, and Tommy finished the final touches on the dinner.  

Phil and Kristin had their matching aprons on the entire time.  

Finally, dinner was being served. There was turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, gravy, macaroni and cheese, green beans, stuffing, sweet potatoes, and so many more foods. The kitchen was filled with laughter and conversation as they all fixed themselves a plate.  

The family finally sit in the dining room, and they all begin eating and laughing still.  

“After we have all finished eating and cleaning up after ourselves, I will make some pies and perhaps a cake,” Techno offers. Everyone thanks him, and he smiles, happy that his baking skills would make his family happy.  

“Phil,” Tommy starts. Phil looks up at him. Tommy avoids his eyes. “I want to thank you for the best Christmas I’ve had since my mom passed away. So many other foster families didn’t even try. In one home, we didn’t celebrate. Here, you made everything feel so special and perfect. Thank you.”  

“Awe, mate,” he begins, but Techno cuts him off.  

“I wasn’t allowed to experience many holidays growing up.” He takes a deep breath. “My father kept me away from the outside world. I didn’t have my first proper Christmas until I was already seven. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d ever get another one after that. You made Christmas matter to me again. Thank you.”  

“Christmas was so special to me and my mom. She always made sure I had something. Ever since she died, Christmas felt bland. It felt as though all the colour and life was sucked out of what was supposed the be the happiest and most colourful time of the year. I finally see the colours again. Thank you,” BITCHASS adds.   

“You’re all going to make me cry,” Phil says shakily, wiping tears with his napkin. Kristin is also dabbing her eyes with a napkin. Tommy’s eyes were slightly red. “I would do anything to make you love Christmas, and I’m so glad I was able to make it special.”  

Phil pauses for a moment and looks to Kristin who nods. It was so subtle that the average person wouldn’t notice it. Tommy, Techno, and BITCHASS aren’t the average person.  

“So,” Phil starts, glancing nervously over at Kristin. She gives a reassuring smile. “Kristin and I have discussed this for months now. Yes, you’ve only been here for seven months, but they’ve been the happiest months of my life.”  

All three boys tense in sync. If they weren’t so terrified, they’d probably find it funny.  

“That’s why I want to give you this final present.” Phil slides over thin white boxes to each of them. They open it together and stare at the papers.  

“Is this-?” BITCHASS starts, picking up the papers. He blinks back tears.  

“I want to adopt you. All of you,” Phil confirms. “You just have to sign the papers.”  

Techno picks up a pen immediately and signs. Tommy follows shortly after, and BITCHASS takes the pen from Tommy with shaking hands.  

“Is this real?” he whispers, staring up at Phil. Everyone has tears in their eyes. Phil nods.  

“Okay.”  

And he signs.  

It’s finally official.  

They’re Phil’s sons. They look out the window to see the lemon trees being coated in snow, lemon trees they had never noticed before. The others they usually noticed were on the opposite side of the house.   

They’re Phil’s, and Phil is theirs.  

“One other thing,” Phil says, turning to Kristin. “I finally am ready to give you your present.”  

“Oh? What is it?” Kristin asks. Phil holds her hands in his.  

“Ever since we first got together, I knew I loved you. You loved me and my boys, so I knew you were a perfect match. We’ve been through so much these past six months, and I wouldn’t trade anything for the world. That’s why I must ask,” Phil lowers himself onto one knee and pulls out a ring box. Kristin gasps and covers her mouth as Phil finishes, “will you marry me?”  

“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!” Kristin exclaims, throwing her arms around Phil. Their sons (holy shit their sons ) clap and cheer as they kiss and Phil places the ring on her finger.   

The family (now they can think that and it can actually be true) finish their dinner and their dessert with a lot less tears. Finally, they’re ready for their final trip on Christmas and their first trip as an official family.  

They climb into Phil’s car and ride to an area where a walk-through light show was meant to be. The teens all brought their stuffed animals, and Phil even brought his quilt which he wrapped around himself. It was still snowing, and the boys were trying not to slip on ice as they had never been on it before.  

They walk through the light show together, pointing out parts they loved or impressive parts. Tommy took several photos of the lights and of his family. At one point, a very kind old man took their picture for them.  

Their first family portrait.  

When Tommy looks at it later, he notices the quilt laying on Phil’s head as he stands on the far left. Kristin’s ring is noticeable from her spot to the right of Phil, and you can easily see all three stuffed animals of Tommy’s as he stands in the center. BITCHASS’s arm rests on Tommy from his spot to his right, and Techno is giving BITCHASS bunny ears from his spot on the far right.  

They were all bundled in hats, coats, scarfs, pants, and boots, but that warmth could never compare to the warmth in Tommy’s chest whenever he sees the picture.   

Eventually, they reach the end of the light show. There stood several trees, all somehow with fruit on them still.  

“Those are lemon trees,” Tommy points out. Everyone stops and stares for a moment.  

“Yeah, they are,” BITCHASS notices.  

“Home is where the lemon trees are,” Techno mumbles his breath.  

“Home is wherever we are together,” Kristin corrects.  

“Mom, Dad? I love you,” Tommy whispers.  

“I love you, Mom and Dad,” BITCHASS echoes, liking how the words roll off his tongue so easily.  

“I love you, Mom, and I love you, Dad,” Techno whispers, voice cracking and barely audible.  

“I love you, too,” Phil says.  

“I will always love my bird brain boys,” Kristin adds.  

They walk back to the car, ready for whatever the world will throw at them.  

They’re family.  

Home is wherever they are.