Chapter Text
Tommy Kraken Danger Innit was fifteen years old, and he was pretty sure he was the worst person he’d ever met. He’d been in some bad places and had been hurt by some worse people, but he was pretty sure he had them all beat. Tommy’s stomach churned with guilt and shame, but not because of the freshly stolen items weighing on his conscience and sweatshirt pockets. There was a much deeper emotion swirling inside of him, but he did his best to ignore it as he lifted a toothbrush from the hook it hung on and slid it up his sleeve. As he walked around the small store– the only one he could find in miles before he reached the next town– he placed a few more things in his hoodie pocket. There was some kind of itch in the back of his mind demanding he collect more stuff for something, but Tommy couldn't pinpoint what for. He did his best to smother the feeling as he grabbed deodorant, travel-size shampoo, and a pair of thin winter gloves. He slid the gloves on right away, covering his split-open knuckles. Tommy fidgeted nervously as he turned a corner only to be met with the sight of an employee.
Shit. Tommy had to swallow down the audible gasp that tried to claw its way past his lips. He nearly choked on his own breaths, which were heaving in his lungs faster than was probably normal. It didn’t help that it felt like his heart was beating in his throat. Tommy mentally cursed himself for acting so jumpy. Tommy knew he didn’t look very trustworthy, but all he needed to do was make his way out of the store, shove the items into his backpack, and continue on his merry way– not that he had anywhere to go. Still, he needed to leave. Tommy believed himself to be an expert on moving from place to place. He knew when he was overstaying his welcome or when his luck was running out. It was like he could just feel it, and now was a moment when he felt himself falling victim to the latter. He was pretty sure it had something to do with his instincts, but he wasn't totally sure. He couldn’t have gotten out fast enough to avoid the man who practically ran down the aisle after him, accidentally slamming into his shoulder, the freshly dislocated one in a sling no less, and spilling the hidden contents of his sleeve onto the floor.
Pain radiated angrily down Tommy’s arm and up into his wings, both of which were hidden beneath his hoodie. He closed his eyes and tried to pull a deep breath into his lungs, but he could feel the tell-tale feeling of fire ants crawling up his hands and arms. When he opened his eyes, Tommy took one glance at the items on the tiled floors and then back up to the employee, who was now staring at him with a price gun limp in their hand. He suddenly felt very stupid.
Tommy shouldn’t have done what he did next. He froze in place, and stared at the employee, heart beating heavily in his chest. “I’m sorry. I swear I don’t steal often. This was a– This was a one-off thing, I promise,” he rambled, raising his arms in a placating manner. His mouth snapped shut as soon as the employee’s eyebrows shot up and her face settled into a grimace.
“You were stealing all that?” she asked, sounding more accusatory than Tommy liked. Her bright orange hair flared a bit, and Tommy was hit by a wave of warmth. It took him a moment to realize she was a blaze hybrid. "Well?"
Tommy only nodded dumbly, having no idea what else he was meant to say. He wondered daftly if they would just let him leave with the items. It was a stupid thought, but Tommy had never claimed to be particularly smart. He also wasn’t thinking very clearly.
The employee turned toward the front of the store and shouted for security. Tommy knew he should’ve just run. He hadn’t actually stolen anything, so it was unlikely they’d try to chase him down or anything. Unfortunately, Tommy didn’t do a lot of things that he believed he should. He found he was particularly bad at following his own judgment.
The security guard appeared near Tommy almost as if out of nowhere. Tommy was aware he was tall, but as he looked warily at the man, he knew the guy was short even by normal standards. He also seemed to be fully human. This, of course, didn’t stop him from looking absolutely terrifying.
The security guard looked at the employee, then back to Tommy. “This kid?” he asked with a grin teasing his face. The employee, who was now shooting Tommy a particularly vicious stare, nodded. Tommy felt himself wither beneath it. “He looks like a scrawny caterpillar. Almost looks like you assaulted him, with that nasty black eye. Are you sure?” His voice was gruff, but not mean. There was clearly meant to be a tinge of humor to the sentence, but, apparently, it fell flat because the employee didn’t acknowledge it. Tommy almost found himself holding back a snicker, but his amusement came to a quick death at the words the employee spoke next.
“Yes. He admitted it, too.”
Well, that wasn’t great. Tommy chanced a quick look at the security guard again but looked away quickly when he found the man to already be staring at him. He looked rather unimpressed but luckily only a little pissed. “You have anything to say about this?” He gestured to the stuff on the floor as well as the girl in uniform before him, who still looked annoyed. It took Tommy a moment too long to realize the question was actually directed at him. He opened his mouth, but he couldn’t force any words, so he quickly closed it and opted for a terse shake of his head. “You aren’t helping yourself, kiddo,” the guard grumbled. He bent down, scooping up the stuff from the floor, and he jutted his chin toward a small hallway in the corner that Tommy assumed would have restrooms at the end. “I’m guessin’ you won’t give me too much trouble. Come on back and we’ll get this sorted out.”
Tommy shoved his hands in the pockets of his cargo pants and followed after the guard, looking like a kicked puppy, and feeling exactly as he looked. Tommy was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a liar, so he was truthful when saying that he was terrified. He wasn’t sure why, but his heart hadn’t stopped sputtering nervously as he shuffled after the security guard, who sported a look more of pity than anger now. Tommy knew why. He’d taken one glance at the items Tommy had taken and another glance at Tommy himself– his cleanliness (or lack thereof), his messy blonde hair, his various injuries, his demeanor– and must’ve known he was a homeless, desperate, and frankly, stupid teenager.
There was nothing but complete silence as Tommy and the security guard walked down the poorly lit hall with three doors. Two were restrooms, as Tommy had predicted, and the third was a room with a small plaque on the door reading EMPLOYEES ONLY.
The security guard, who Tommy was beginning to believe was just a cashier wearing a jacket that had the word “security” on the back in thick blocky letters, opened the door and held it that way. He gave Tommy an expectant look, so he walked inside. Automatic lights flickered on and Tommy was met with what looked like a cross between a break room and a storage room. There was a wooden table with some chairs surrounding it, a sad-looking minifridge in the corner with a microwave balanced on top of it, and various clean supplies on the shelves, including what looked like extra paper towels and soap for the bathrooms.
One of the more noticeable things in the room was the screens that showed the perspectives of the cameras around the store. His walk stuttered for a moment; he was entranced by the idle movement of the people on the cameras. The store wasn’t large by any means, but there were a fair amount of patrons. Tommy wasn’t sure why they grabbed his attention so fiercely, but it took him a moment to realize the security guard was directing him toward a plastic chair against the wall.
Tommy didn’t think his day would begin with getting caught shoplifting, but there he was staring at his tattered red Converse and dodging the tired glare of the security guard. Tommy did his best to press his back straight against the uncomfortable plastic chair, but his wings really needed a stretch. He knew this couldn't be good for them, but he really didn't want the security guard to suspect him. The security guard glanced over, giving him a disappointed look before the man sat down across from him and started filling out some sort of form. Tommy just shifted in the chair, staring scoldingly at his shoes as if it was their fault he got caught.
There was a movement across from him, and Tommy quickly schooled the sour expression off his face for something more neutral but fake. He straightened his posture a bit, and his wings shouted their protest in pain. The man’s frown just deepened at that, and Tommy couldn’t help but feel like he’d done something wrong. Which he undoubtedly had. In fact, he wondered how long it would take for the man to call the police or, he didn’t know, CPS? Tommy just painfully awaited the impending reprimanding.
A few minutes passed, and all Tommy could hear was the sound of a pen on paper. He had to resist the urge to pull his knees up to his chest, knowing it was probably a bit rude to put his worn shoes on the chair, even if it was just plastic. Suddenly, there was a loud scraping against the floor tiles, and the security guard stood up. He looked about ten times more exasperated than he had meager moments ago. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, and Tommy wondered loosely if he’d done something to warrant the annoyed look on the man’s face before realizing it wasn’t him. The guard’s attention was on the screens with the footage of the store. “I’ll be back. Stay here,” he commanded.
Tommy took it as a personal challenge, praying that if he listened, then whatever his punishment for stealing was wouldn’t be too bad. His shoulders tensed, and, even though he didn’t think he could press his spine farther against the back of the chair, he managed. His hands were pressed beneath his legs to keep their trembling to a minimum. As soon as the security guard left, he let out an anxious breath and allowed his gaze to trail up to the cameras to see what possibly could have drawn the man out of the room with such irritation splayed so clearly across his face.
Tommy wasn’t sure what he expected. It certainly wasn’t a man in a long khaki coat traipsing around the store knocking items off shelves like a cat and only occasionally stopping to inspect something and shove it into his pockets. Tommy almost found himself laughing at the sight. It felt like he was watching a man go completely off the rails, propelled onward in his intoxicated state by pure spite, audacity, and lack of fucks to give. Tommy found himself leaning forward in his seat to see what happened when the security guard approached. He couldn’t see their facial expressions well through the grainy footage, but he could tell the perpetrator was speaking with much gusto based on how animatedly he was gesturing. The security guard said something and pointed at the trail of various products on the floor that led right to the man. The man spread his arms wide and took a bow. His face, as he laughed, brought the Muse of Comedy mask to Tommy’s mind.
This guy’s quite the character, Tommy thought. He wasn’t sure what could push a man to decide that, because he wanted to have fun, he’d go terrorize a local convenience store. Maybe it was the same nagging in the back of his mind that led Tommy to shoplift.
Tommy was pulled away from his thoughts. He went back to viewing the scene on the security cameras. The guard was hauling the man toward the back of the store, to the same room Tommy was in. It brought a small smile of bemusement to Tommy’s face to see the man smoothly grab a pack of cigarettes and tap them up his sleeve in one swift motion. Maybe Tommy was a little impressed.
Then, the door was shoved open, and the man was pushed into the room by the security guard, and Tommy wanted to take back every smile he’d spent on the man from the camera. Tommy must’ve been wrong. This guy wasn’t the same as him, who had stolen shit he actually needed. No, Tommy decided he was simply an asshole.
He hadn’t recognized him through the footage, but now it was clear that this was the same man who’d slammed into his shoulder and gotten him caught. Something bitter rose in Tommy’s throat, but he swallowed it down as he fixed his posture. He reminded himself that he’d made the decision to shoplift.
The security guard lightly pushed the man toward another plastic chair next to Tommy. “Sit down, Watson,” he commanded.
The man– Watson (was that a first or last name?)— flung himself into the chair with the cadence of someone who’d been there many times before. Tommy wouldn’t be surprised, considering how the security guard knew his name and looked so unimaginably fed up. “It’s Soot now, actually,” he said proudly. He sounded exactly as dramatic as his body language led Tommy to believe he was, but there was also an air of casualty in his tone that Tommy couldn’t explain. The two spoke like old friends. Or enemies.
The security guard looked at Soot with a raised eyebrow. “Is that so?” He sounded like he was just humoring the guy.
Soot either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He nodded curtly. “Yeah.” There was a brief pause, like he was considering leaving it at that but decided against it. “I don’t fuck with Watsons anymore.” Tommy wasn’t sure if he was just imagining the tinge of bitter sadness in his voice. However, he forgot all about it as the man shifted in his chair, almost like he was laying across it. The movement brought to light the thick scent of menthol permeating from the man. The fucker reeked of it.
The security guard’s eyes suddenly landed square on Tommy, and he braced himself, though he didn’t know what for. “The hell are you still here for?”
Tommy didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure what he did wrong, or where he was meant to be. He furrowed his brows in confusion, and, in a quiet voice, responded, “You told me to stay. Was I not supposed to?”
The guard sputtered a laugh. “Most people wouldn’t have.”
Tommy’s mouth formed an “o” shape, but no sound came out. He felt a bit embarrassed and wondered if the security guard would prefer it if he were out of his hair. Tommy shrunk down in the chair at the thought.
“Wait, wait,” Soot raised his hands as if commanding the room to pause. “You actually just waited here? Like… God, you sat in that chair alone and all quiet and waited for him to return?” Soot asked with a biting laugh to punctuate the question.
Tommy couldn’t quite tell if he was being made fun of, but it definitely felt like it. He felt like he was being psychoanalyzed, and he hated it. Tommy was a pacing zoo animal under Soot’s curious, judging gaze. He just looked away and shifted to try to get away from the burning smell of smoke that surrounded Soot like an aura.
“Oh-ho!” Soot taunted. “What? You don’t want to talk? You must’ve felt so sure of yourself while stealing– That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? Where’d that confidence go?” Soot was trying to push his buttons. Tommy knew by the way he spoke in a playful tone and flashed all of his slightly yellowed teeth in his overconfident smile. Tommy knew what it looked like to try to rile someone up so they’d snap. They’d snap and you’d finally have an excuse to hurt them.
“Wilbur, knock it off. He’s a good kid,” said the security guard, jumping to Tommy’s defense for god knows what reason. He chuckled and shot Tommy a quick pitying look. It made Tommy’s face burn bright red. “He admitted to trying to steal and returned everything.”
“Even worse,” Soot mumbled back, still trying for humor despite clearly being disheartened by his frenemy’s scolding. The security guard just rolled his eyes, and Tommy reveled in the warm feeling of having somebody on his side. Wilbur just pulled the pack of freshly stolen cigarettes from one pocket and a small silver lighter from another.
Tommy scowled over at him as he held the cigarette between his teeth and flicked the lighter. Once, twice, and then three times. Tommy wished it would go out once more and never reignite. Not for the sake of Soot’s lungs (or was it Wilbur? The security guard had addressed him as both), but for himself. Tommy didn’t want the smoke clinging to one of his few sets of clothes. He didn’t want to be forced to remember his past fuck-ups whenever he wanted to wear his favorite shirt.
Fortunately, his prayers must’ve been heard by someone, because the guard shot Soot another look. “Not with the kid here, Wilbur. He doesn’t need to be exposed to that shit.” It was sweet, but Tommy had to stifle a bitter laugh. It just reminded him that even if this man was showing him kindness, he probably wouldn’t if he really knew Tommy.
Wilbur huffed, raising the unlit cigarette to show the guard. “It’s just a menthol, man. They’re better than the old ones I used to smoke.”
Tommy was fighting a losing battle with his own laughter now. He snorted at Wilbur’s statement, but his hand flew up to cover his mouth as soon as all the eyes in the room were glued to him. He glanced nervously at Wilbur, expecting anger, but he was just grinning like a maniac.
“You’ve got something to say, do you?”
Tommy looked warily between the guard and Wilbur before lowering his hand and daring a response. “I…” he trailed off, wondering if it was actually in his best interest to respond. Tommy just shoved his nervousness down. “Just that… Sorry, that just isn't true…” he stated, with all the confidence he could muster, which wasn't a lot. He sounded so soft-spoken, and it made him cringe inwardly. He watched Wilbur’s face. It didn’t change a bit. “Menthols aren't any better.”
Wilbur’s face twitched, then he settled back into his twisted smile. There was a gleam in his eyes like he was trying to piece together an elaborate plan. “You know what?” Tommy did his best to just look curious, but his heart quickened a bit and his shoulders tensed in anticipation. “I like you. You’re kind of an asshole,” he said casually, tucking the cigarettes back into his pocket. Tommy figured that Wilbur was complimenting him in some weird way. He didn’t quite know if he liked that.
“Wilbur. Don’t be like that.” The guard suddenly looked just as fed up as he had when he first realized who he was dealing with. His attention turned to Tommy. “Kid, don’t listen to him. In fact, you’re free to go.” Tommy looked at him with disbelief. Was he actually allowed to just leave with no repercussions? The guard must’ve noticed Tommy’s confusion because he laughed. “Don’t look so shocked! It’s not like you actually took anything. I’m not gonna say anything about it.”
Tommy’s stomach twisted. “Are you sure?” he asked in a voice far smaller than he’d meant. The guard just nodded. “Okay.” Tommy stood from his chair and dusted himself off before shoving his hands in his pockets. “Uh, thanks.”
Suddenly, another voice piped up. “I fear I’ll also have to bid you adieu. Our battle of wits– though, I suppose, it’s barely a battle. More of a hopeless assault on your intellect, or a cat-and-mouse style chase, where I escape, donning my wit like a medallion or… an amalgamation of your failures…” Wilbur stopped himself suddenly and looked lost for a moment like he forgot what he was talking about before shaking his head and standing up. “I’m getting carried away. Regardless, it must be reserved for another day. I have business to attend elsewhere.” Tommy stared back at Wilbur in disbelief. He couldn’t recount another time he’d heard somebody use so many fancy words in one go.
However, he couldn’t help but crack a smile at the man’s fully unearned confidence, though he forced it down as soon as the ache in his shoulder reminded him that Wilbur had been the cause of all of this. Tommy turned around and decided he didn’t want to hear whatever fight the security guard was going to put up. As soon as he went to open the door, something heavy hit his back. Wilbur was next to him with one long arm slung over his shoulder. Tommy hadn’t realized at first how tall Wilbur was, but now that they were standing next to each other, Tommy could tell he had at least half a foot on him. Tommy shifted under the weight of Wilbur leaning on him a bit.
“Can’t get rid of me that easily, little thief-in-training.” Wilbur directed Tommy out of the door and into the hallway. He sounded far more normal now that he wasn’t speaking like he read the dictionary for fun as a child.
“Yeah, yeah. Get the hell out of here, Soot. I’m done with your bullshit for tonight. My shift’s almost over,” the security guard shouted to Wilbur as the door swung closed.
Wilbur chuckled, leaning further into Tommy's side. "He's just saying that so he feels he still has some semblance of control over what I do here," he stage-whispered. Tommy wanted to shove Wilbur's arm off, but instead, he just allowed his uneasiness to gnaw away at him, and he nodded stiffly. Tommy found his chest feeling a bit tight. Wilbur’s smell of cigarettes was stronger than ever, and their close proximity made Tommy want to crawl out of his skin.
Still, he didn't want to sound like a dick. Plus, Wilbur had made it clear that he often got away with whatever he wanted. Those kinds of people were dangerous– Tommy knew firsthand. "Do you need something?"
Wilbur tilted his head curiously. “You're a runaway,” he said resolutely. "Probably a flight-risk foster kid." Tommy couldn't help but scrunch up his face. Wilbur obviously didn't know what he was talking about– "No… That's not quite right. I bet you ran away from your biological parents. Why is what I haven't quite pinned down yet. You don't seem like the rebellious type.”
Tommy was left slack-jawed. Surely Wilbur hadn't figured all that out in the few minutes they'd known each other. Tommy's wings ached to wrap comfortingly around his shoulders.
"I'm right, aren't I?" Something arrogant and dangerous swirled in his eyes. Tommy couldn't tell if that was meant to be a rhetorical question or not. He did his best to shuffle away from Wilbur without making it seem like he was too eager to get away. He managed to shrug Wilbur’s arm off. Wilbur looked at him with something like curiosity. "You aren't very talkative, are you?" he cooed.
Tommy stared up at Wilbur, hoping he'd get the hint and just leave him alone. However, Wilbur either didn't care or wasn't planning on leaving Tommy. Fine. He sighed inwardly. If that's how it'll be. Tommy surrendered. "Not really, I guess."
Wilbur bared his sharp yellowed teeth at Tommy. "That's okay. I can talk for the both of us."
Tommy didn't know why that would need to be the case, but he didn't love the implications. He didn't plan on hanging out with Wilbur. However, he did know it was probably best to just agree with the other, so he nodded politely and turned to exit the store.
Wilbur grinned and followed after Tommy. He apparently wasn't lying when he said he could talk for the both of them, because he had launched into some sort of pointless monologue. Tommy wasn't really listening, though. He just walked to the front of the store and shoved the glass doors open. He was met with a wave of cold air that stung his face.
Wilbur had asked Tommy a few questions but didn't stop talking to allow him to answer. It was weird to listen to. He just went on and on, and he didn’t seem to need anyone to bounce off of. Something caught Tommy’s attention in the sea of sentences Wilbur was spewing. “So I mean, we're basically the same."
Tommy ceased walking for a moment. His hands tingled like he was starting to go numb, and he took a deep breath, trying to relax. Realistically, Tommy knew that the sentence wasn't an attack on his character. Not really. Despite what he seemed to believe, Wilbur didn't know him, and they were not the same.
Wilbur stopped too. “Are you okay?” When Tommy didn’t respond, Wilbur placed a hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t actually mean to upset you, man–”
“I’m fine, ” Tommy snapped back. He turned around to stare at the man to gauge his reaction. Tommy just continued through his rising panic. “We aren’t the same,” he firmly insisted. He was trying to sound serious, but the softness in his voice was betraying him. Wilbur only scoffed. “We aren’t. I was trying to do what I had to do, and I didn’t even end up stealing anything," he explained. Fear coursed through Tommy's veins, but it was overwhelmed by his need to prove himself. Prove he wasn't a bad person. "You’ve still got those shitty cigarettes in your pocket! I watched you steal them on the camera.” Wilbur, once again, didn’t appear to be angry. Tommy just stared at him. He didn’t want to be like Wilbur. He was a good person, surely. He had to be. Then why did he feel the need to defend himself like this?
The tingling feeling rose to Tommy’s arms.
Wilbur raised an eyebrow and looked at Tommy like he knew him better than he knew himself. Calmly, he pointed to Tommy’s hands, which were still in his pockets. “You stole the gloves.”
It took Tommy a moment to remember what Wilbur was talking about. Realization must've dawned on his face after a moment because Wilbur suddenly looked so painfully proud of himself. He’d forgotten about the gloves. Tommy pulled his hands out and stared at them. Ugly bright red fabric stared right back at him, and Tommy was suddenly disgusted and overwhelmed. “That was an accident,” he promised. “I didn’t mean to, I swear–” He choked on his words and let them die on his tongue when he couldn't manage to reform them. His wings ruffled under his sweater, begging to be free, but Tommy wrestled them down.
“Hey, it’s not like I’m going to say anything,” Wilbur spoke with casual genuineness in a way Tommy didn’t think he’d ever heard before. It was comforting, and Tommy hated that. He didn’t want to be comforted by this guy. He didn’t want to be comforted at all.
(So maybe Tommy was a liar after all.)
Wilbur seemed to pause and think for a moment before he added, “I think I need to teach you how to not be shit at shoplifting.”
Tommy’s brain short-circuited at that. “What? Why?” He didn’t even know Wilbur. Why would he want to do that?
“Because you’re really bad at it. Clearly. You’ve obviously been kicked around.” Wilbur gestured to Tommy’s face and shoulder. “You need all the help you can get.”
Tommy hummed like he was considering it, even though he was not. “You don’t seem very fit to be teaching me how to fight.” It was true, too. Wilbur was incredibly tall, but also very slim to the point that Tommy would worry about him if he wasn’t too busy worrying about himself. He looked like a scraggly tree branch, complete with his tangle of warm brown curls that Tommy could’ve mistaken for dead leaves if he squinted a little.
“Wow, thank you for that tremendous observation. Really appreciate it.” Wilbur placed a hand over his heart dramatically.
Tommy took note not to insult Wilbur. He seemed to be joking now, but if Tommy had made the same joke while Wilbur was angry then he wouldn’t be surprised if the sarcasm turned into sharp bitterness. That was the last thing Tommy wanted.
“What I meant, ” Wilbur clarified, “was that I could teach you how to be sneaky. Dodge rules, get out of trouble, get somebody else to take the fall for a fight you start. It’s my expertise. I do consider myself to be something of a… boy of crime.” Wilbur’s words flowed like honey. Sweet, but laced with danger for a fly like Tommy. However, Tommy fully believed that if he wasn’t… well, himself he would be invigorated by the taller’s words. Unfortunately, he was himself, and he knew that getting mixed with people like Wilbur was a bad idea, especially for someone in his situation.
“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” he said quietly. Tommy picked up his pace a bit and found the backpack he’d left outside the shop by the large commercial ice freezer. He tugged it over his good shoulder while Wilbur just stood and watched.
“I think it’s a better idea than living out here alone?” Wilbur’s statement felt like an offer of sorts, though Tommy wasn't quite sure what Wilbur was trying to say. “You shouldn't be out here alone. At least let me help toughen you up a bit, you know?” Wilbur shrugged.
Tommy tensed at that because he did know. Surely that was a veiled threat, right? Tommy had been in multiple situations where… substandard behavior was excused under the guise of ‘toughening him up’. “Oh… Yeah, that makes sense.” He hoped agreeing with Wilbur would make it seem like he hadn’t understood the sentence’s subtext.
“Great!” Wilbur seemed suddenly cheerier. His enthusiasm felt somewhat like a threat.
Tommy nodded carelessly. He was tuning Wilbur out again, staring at the road in front of him. Not too many cars passed, so Tommy figured he probably wouldn’t be able to catch a ride anywhere that night. He’d never hitchhiked before, but he was starting to consider it.
“Hey, I’ve got a place not far from here. If you don’t want to sleep outside in late November like you’re trying to cryogenically freeze yourself, we can head there?” Wilbur offered. “It’s supposed to get below freezing tonight.”
Tommy spun around to stare at Wilbur. He was just standing behind Tommy, now with a newly lit cigarette in his mouth. “I— I wasn’t planning on sleeping outside . I’m not, like, homeless or anything,” he stammered out. Tommy could feel his wings involuntarily puff up in defense, and he silently cursed himself.
“Oh, right. Of course.” Wilbur leaned forward on the balls of his feet and grinned. He clearly had picked up on the lie. “It’s fine if not, man.” Wilbur raised his hands as if trying to prove he wasn’t a threat. It didn’t work.
Tommy weighed his options. He could get his ass beaten in a parking lot for declining a seemingly kind offer, or he could sleep at some random guy’s house. Not to mention that they’d only met that day through their shared passion for causing problems in convenience stores. Wilbur looked at him, clearly waiting for an answer. Tommy wasn’t sure if he could supply one.
Finally, after a bout of silence, Tommy managed a pitiful nod.
Wilbur only smiled politely as if that were the answer he wanted. He took a long drag of his cigarette, then held it out to Tommy. He wondered if it was meant to be an olive branch of sorts. Regardless, Tommy was not accepting peace offerings at this time. He took a step back, trying to swallow down the lump forming in the back of his throat. “I don’t smoke. Sorry,” he croaked out while trying to put as much distance between himself and the cigarette as possible.
“That’s fine. Anyways, my place is just down this road.” Wilbur pointed in the direction of a nearby town with the cigarette still in hand.
“Great,” Tommy muttered, holding his breath. He forced a smile onto his face, but the uneasy feeling in his stomach hadn’t settled down yet. In fact, it got worse as Wilbur began their walk.
Tommy followed along behind him, shoes crunching over the gravelly path beside the road. Cars passed less and less frequently now that the sun was nearly below the tree line and the sky darkened from blue to orange to purple. The consistent sound of their steps could have been comforting, like the beat of a heart, under different circumstances. Unfortunately, these were not different circumstances.