Chapter Text
If anyone were to ask why Tommy's out in the streets this late at night, he'd blame the stars for coming out too early or capitalism for ruining the world. Whatever. The truth, as lame as it sounds, is that there is no real reason, just a dumb kid doing dumb things, as his social worker likes to say, smile a bit too tight.
His current foster home is on a "do what you want as long as you don't bring attention to yourself" kind of deal, and he enjoys the freedom, so unlike his previous homes. Their house feels claustrophobic, too much noise, too many people, too much of everything. Is there anybody who truly cares for him?
The warm September night turns cold, suddenly, and his shirt starts to feel inadequate against the drop in temperature. The streets are empty which makes a chill run down his spine. It's barely past 9 P.M, where did all the people go? It's never good for an orphan boy to be all alone in the streets, Tommy learned quite early and brutally. Not all lost boys get to go to Neverland.
He tries to turn and go for a busier street, but a flash of pink makes him nearly choke. It can't be. Down the street, right under the only working street light, a ghost stands.
Technoblade looks the same as ever if only dressed a bit classier. He is still, like a statue, save for a slight wave of his hand. When Tommy stares a bit too long, unsure whether or not this is all real, the other smiles and beckons him to come over. Feeling a bit like a puppet whose strings are pulled, he steps closer and closer, limbs going numb from the cold.
He furiously wipes the tears threatening to appear and tries to keep a steady voice, despite the mix of fury and shock shooting in his veins. Unconsciously, he curls, making himself a smaller target. To the other, he must look like a frightened rabbit ready to run.
"... Techno?" It's hesitant, tongue tripping over itself. Internally, he berates himself. This could be a stranger, a dream, a half-forgotten memory. Alone in the streets, there is no one left to save him other than his self-assurance.
"Hey. It's been a while." Their words are the only sound echoing around them, adding to the eerie atmosphere. What the fuck is going on. Tommy takes a step back, only one, and keeps his eyes trained on the apparition. "Shit man, a while? You disappeared for more than six months!" The anger leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Six months with nothing except a dumb and creepy text. Seeing the news flash with a familiar face on it, without any idea of what was happening. And now, this? "Where the fuck have you been?"
Techno doesn't move a bit, doesn't show a single emotion. "Here and there. Sorry for worrying you."
"Worrying me? Dude, you have more missing posters than I have... wives." It falls flat, the situation a tad too tense to be joking around. Who is he kidding, the situation feels like someone set a building on fire and is waiting at the only exit to see who's gonna come out. Tommy can almost smell the smoke. Technoblade simply looks at him, the bastard still taller, and the soulless smile finally reaches his eyes.
"You're not with the Millers anymore. It was a bit difficult to find you again." His shoulders hunch against his will and he twists his fingers together. "I- I fucked up. I don't want to talk about it." Broken glass and yelling voices. It's his fault. The wood scrapes against the floor. He's sorry, sorry, sorry. The day after, they call and say Tommy is too hard to handle. Fuck them. Thinking about them makes the fire inside of him flare up. "What are you doing here."
"Can I not visit you sometime?"
"At 9 P.M? In the middle of some stupid street? I'm not fuckin' dumb."
A heavy hand falls on his head, almost making him flinch. Techno is too close for his comfort, too strange for him to feel at ease next to the man he would have nearly called brother a few months ago. "We just wanted to be sure it was you." Tommy recoils then, and nervously glances around. "We?"
The other waves his hand nonchalantly. "You'll understand." A sound finally breaks the silence: two crows fly by in a cacophony reminding him of a laughing crowd. He feels like the butt of some sinister joke he doesn't quite get. Is this the real Techno?
Tommy takes a step back, then two. "I- I don't think I want to. I have to get home." Techno smiles, all teeth and no warmth. "Are they really home to you?" When Tommy looks back and meets his eyes, they're glowing in the dark night, a mesmerizing red.
He gives up on all pretenses then and starts running as fast as his burning lungs allow. His footsteps are not the only ones echoing against the pavement. A steady voice follows him. "Do you know how humans used to hunt their prey?" He doesn't care at all, doesn't need anything more than the strength to keep going away from what feels like a nightmare. He's used to run like his life depends on it. But this is the first time the person on the other hand is someone he used to trust. Technoblade continues, never tiring. "You have the speed Tommy but do you have the endurance?" The street seems to stretch endlessly, a long black rope of road with no exit. If he had the breath, he'd scream 'Fuck you'.
"Tell me, Tommy, do you feel tired?"
-
He wakes up gasping, blond hair glued to his head by sweat, gripping the sheets so hard his knuckles turn white. When he looks around, trying to catch his breath, the familiar surrounding of his room greets him. The fuck? The alarm to his right glows with the number six. What the hell happened? He gets up blearily and goes to wash his face in the communal bathroom. It's still early enough to be empty which is a blessing. The feathers, black stains on the wooden floor, go unnoticed.
When Tommy gets to school, he's surprised to see it closed, with no one around to explain. He gets his phone out, an old thing to replace the previous one smashed to bits, and quickly texts Tubbo.
-Why the fuck is the school closed on a Tuesday morning?
The answer takes a bit of time to arrive, probably because a certain someone knew about it already and decided to sleep in.
-Dude, your family didn't tell you? The school sent a message to the parents and it was on the news.
Not my family. He types angrily before deleting. His foster parents probably didn't care enough to tell him. A sigh.
-Cut to the chase big man, what happened?
-The principal was found dead yesterday. They still don't know if it was a murder or not. Pretty wild. My father is trying to find a solution for the school, but it could take a few days.
That's. Pretty brutal. He didn't love her but still. It feels so sudden. He was just in her office, getting chewed out for some dumb stuff yesterday. He tries not to imagine her lifeless body on the ground. This day is starting terribly. It's nice to be informed, he thinks sarcastically.
Tommy doesn't bother answering and begins the way back to the house. Tubbo is his best friend, the first he's ever got in between moving houses every year or so, but still, it's hard not to be bitter. It's easy when you're alone, to set a wall between you and the others. There's them, with bright smiles and birthday presents, and there's you. Just you. But once you get to know them, the 'fools' they used to whisper in the orphanage, you can't help but ask yourself. What makes them different? Wanted? Why not me? Tommy stays silent through his friend's complaints about his dad and swallows the ugly shards of jealousy before they can get out.
-
It takes a week to find a substitute, during which the police ruled the death as murder, which shakes the whole neighborhood. She was not especially loved but she wasn't hated either, and the whispers about her bloody end haunt their talks. The new guy is some blond dude named Phillip something. Tommy doesn't really care.
What he finds interesting though, is the strange flock of crows that took to follow him around. Their numbers keep changing, going from three birds to a few dozen, without any kind of pattern. They're playful, sometimes a bit too teasing, but they stay and listen to his endless ramblings, which endears them to him. He used to shoo them away in the beginning, but now they keep him company on the way to Tubbo's house.
He looks up crows online and finds that a group of them is called a murder. It makes him snort, in dark irony. His own little murder, just for him.
-
There's an assembly to greet the new principal. Everyone is somber, still in shock and a bit scared, except for the guy himself who's smiling warmly at all of them. He speaks for a bit, all the boring parts about rules and other shit, while Tommy and Tubbo begin to play their second version of the hardest game of rock-paper-scissors. (The first had to be adjusted after Tommy almost broke his leg trying to escape.) The loser has to key the car of their math teacher which they both hate and fear in equal measure. He is on the verge of winning, successfully avoiding the scissors Tubbo pulled out of his bag when the crowd of students goes silent. They both still, and in one fluid motion go back to their 'perfect students' positions. The amused smile on the principal face is enough to let Tommy know they failed. His green eyes are locked on him as he ends his speech.
"And I hope, despite the tragedy befalling us, that we can unite this school together. As students, as teachers and you could say, as a family." Tommy breaks eye contact first, bringing his gaze down to his shoes and ignoring the strange ominous feeling.
Tubbo elbows him on the way out. "He's pretty weird, don't you think?"
"Yeah. He looks like a wrongen, being all nice and shit."
"Well, we probably won't see him. If we don't get caught." They fistbumps and walk away laughing. It doesn't even last a week.
-
In his defense, it wasn't his fault. No, really he didn't even touch the thing. This is all on Tubbo and his 'scientific discoveries'. The whole thing probably made a lot more people happy than sad! No school again! There wasn't even a single injury. Come on, someone had to keep their town's firefighters on their toes. Probably less than their toes, judging by the fire's speed.
From the corner of his eye, he sees one of their classmates discreetly points them out to their teacher. The situation doesn't feel that funny anymore.
He whispers. "Big man, how easy is it to track back the origin of the fire?"
Tubbo winces. "Well. I... could lie to you if it made you feel better?" They're fucking done. "I think we could outrun the cops if we start packing now." He laughs. "I'm serious, just you and me against the world. We'd make it."
"And leave everything behind? Yeah sure." And that's the thing, isn't it? It's only Tommy that got nothing to lose.
-
The principal's door seems like an insurmountable wall when you're sitting outside of it, nervously tapping your feet while waiting for your turn. His only comfort is the fact that this happens at school and not at the police station. They wanted to keep the situation 'private' or whatever. He's just glad he doesn't have to see the cops. That would most definitely evict him from his current foster home and away from his best friend. They've only known each other for seven months but it feels like forever.
In what seems like an eternity, the door opens and the mayor, unfortunately also known as Tubbo's father, exits. When he notices Tommy sitting outside, he gives him a slight nod coupled with an annoyed frown. Schlatt never tried to hide his contempt for the 'cumbersome orphan' his son took a liking to. Tommy never hides his dislike for him either, so he guesses that makes them even. With a last fortifying breath, he enters the room.
The principal is waiting for him, sitting behind a massive desk. His smile is strangely warm, not at all the look he'd thought he'd get for burning a quarter of the school. (It's not his fault, yeah, but Tommy ain't no snitch.) He gestures for him to sit down.
"Hello, Tommy is it? How are you doing?"
He blinks, caught off guard. "I'm ok?" Tries to remember how being polite and non-aggressive work. "Thank you, mister-" Fuck how does his name go again? Mycroft? Minner? He throws a furtive glance at the metal plate proudly displayed on the desk. "Minecraft!" The other clears his throat and grabs some files. "So, I'm assuming you know why you've been called here?"
Tommy knows all their traps by now. Never say anything before hearing what the other person believes. He distractedly plays with a rubber band, not wanting to meet his eyes. "No."
"Really? Well, you see the school has sustained some... damages you could say, and there have been multiple reports of your involvement." He stays silent. No use trying to talk his way out of it. "Furthermore, I just had Tubbo's father with me, and he seemed adamant that you coerced his son into it." He startles. What? Yes, they dislike each other but he didn't think Schlatt would go this far to bring him out of his life. The asshole. Now Tommy's either forced to take the blame or throw his best friend under the bus. He quietly seethes. M. Minecraft's eyes turn curious and probing. "Is it not the case?"
The band snaps.
He's had enough of this charade. A game designed to make him lose is never worth playing. The chair screech brutally against the floor as he gets up. "Just expel me and be done with this asshole!" This is the shittiest month he's had so far. First Techno, now this? Deep down, underneath all the anger Tommy's just... tired.
"Sit down, mate. No need to be so hasty." The principal seems like he's more amused than anything. It cuts right through Tommy's anger, leaving him baffled. That was NOT a normal adult reaction. "I...just insulted you."
The man smirks. "I've had worse. Besides, I like a little fire now and then. If you're done, I'd like to discuss what will happen." Tommy sits back down. "I'm not expelled?"
"Of course not. The mayor has no right to decide what happens to my students." So Schlatt's been pushing for his expulsion then. His fists clench so hard it leaves crescent-shaped marks on his palms. Unaware of his inner turmoil, he continues. "I think... you've made a mistake. Mistakes are easily repaired. How about this: every day, after school, you join me and my oldest son to clean up the school and library?"
Detention 'till the end of the year? It feels... surprisingly light. Tommy's not about to ask for a heavier sentence though. He's fifteen, not dumb. "No tricks?"
M. Minecraft shakes his head. "No tricks." He gets up to join Tommy's side of the desk. "You can go if you want, you'll start next week, once the school is cleared."
He swallows past the lump in his throat. Fuck, he really thought he'd be expelled. This is the nicest thing someone has done for him in a while. A warm hand settles on his shoulder and guides him to the door. Tommy has to bite down the instinct to break away. "Go. You're young, you have a lot of things to do I'm sure. Besides, I think your friend is waiting for you outside." How did he-? He shakes his head resolutely. This is not his problem. "Thank you. I... Um, have a nice day I guess."
He gets called back, halfway to the exit. "Oh and one more thing." He nearly bangs his head on the door with how fast he turns. Please don't go back on your word. Please don't go back on your- "If we're going to spend this much time together, you can call me Phil." Tommy sighs with relief. What a bitch. He doesn't bother answering and almost slams the door on the way out. As the creepy dickhead said, Tubbo's outside looking at him worryingly.
"Hey man, did it go alright?" The whole conversation replays in his head and he just wants to scream into a pillow until he drops dead from lack of oxygen. "It's fine. 'm not expelled."
Tubbo's face brightens. "Really? I was getting worried. I even asked Dad to intervene in your favor."
His blood boils. "In my favor?" He scoffs. "Your dad threw me under the bus!" His friend recoils, looking confused. "That can be right. He said he would help you!"
"Help me what? Go to a juvenile detention center maybe?" He pushes Tubbo off him before heading toward the school gates.
"Why are you always so hostile to my dad? I promise he did everything he could. I asked him to! He's always trying to help YOU!"
They're shouting at each other now, struggling to breathe and not understanding half the emotions running through their veins. They're experiencing something everyone has to face one day: the realization that the crack of difference between you and your best friend might be a centimeter too wide to make the jump. "Oh, you asked him to? That's so nice of you. Should I be bowing too, your FUCKING Highness?"
"WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!"
"I DON'T KNOW! I... I don't know." The raw admission stops the two of them in their momentum and they both stay here, eyes to eyes. All of this feels unfair, so fucking unfair. Tubbo deflates. "Listen I'm- I'm sorry. This whole situation is so stressful and I'm feeling really guilty about it too. I didn't mean for it to go this far. You're my friend. My best friend."
"I- You're mine too. It's just- Your dad said some shit to the principal and it's been- This month's been pretty shit, I'm not gonna lie."
They stand wordlessly looking at each other for a while. It's Tubbo that takes the first hesitant step toward him.
"Are we... Are we okay?"
Tommy punches him in the arm. "Yeah man, we're okay."
Tubbo lightly shoves him in response. "You know what you said yesterday? About running away together from the police?"
"Uhh yeah? It was- It was a funny bit, don't worry about it or anything."
"No, no you were right. It should be me and you against the world. Together." Should be doesn't mean it is. Tommy doesn't correct him. "We'll be alright big man."
The two teens don't notice the satisfied smile watching them leave, half-hidden behind the window.
-
His first impression of Wilbur is that the guy is... suspicious. Annoying. A pain in the ass. Dangerous. He thought the detention thing would be like usual, boring to death but predictable. Turns out, Phil created a special kind of hell just for him: sorting the library with his obnoxious son.
Their meeting goes like this: Tommy steps into the library expecting to see the usual haughty and cold librarian (a pussy, hates him because she couldn't handle a few of their pranks) and promptly dodges an assassination attempt in the form of a book thrown in his face at an inhuman speed. The book bangs against the door and leaves a dent. "What the FUCK."
There's a giggle coming from the front desk. "Oops. You're not Phil my bad." Tommy turns to face a freakingly tall and gangly dude. The guy is sprawled on the desk like the building belongs to him, feet on it and everything. His heart is still racing from the book. He whispers. "What the fuck." The other smiles brightly before putting another book down with a resounding thump. "Ohh even better, you're Tommy! It's nice to meet you." In a second, he crosses the distance between them and extends his hand. Tommy reluctantly shakes it, before taking a step back. Has this guy never heard of personal distance before?
"Um, who are you?"
"Oh, I'm Wilbur, the new librarian. I recently got hired, the old one... retired."
"Aren't you... too young?" The guy looks barely past 20 and no one this joyful could be fresh out of college.
"Don't worry, I recently acquired some literature knowledge that helped me get hired." Tommy tries to be polite, he does, but Wilbur looks like he just escaped from some crazy cartoons and the words just slip out of his mouth. "The fuck are you talking about?"
"You could say... my brother tutored me. I assure you I'm qualified for the task... mostly." What's up with the awkward stops? He takes it back, Wilbur doesn't look like he escaped from some cartoons, he acts like a supervillain getting ready to enact his evil plan or whatever. Well, as long as he leaves Tommy out of it, he's got no problem.
Spending his evenings with him is not so bad. He's surprisingly funny, laughs at most of his jokes, and most importantly, he doesn't try to put a leash on him. It's freeing, after spending several hours forced to sit still in suffocating silence, to just... be yourself without conditions. Alone in the library with Wilbur, he can be brash and loud how he wants.
Phil doesn't show up often. The first time he does, Tommy straightens in the middle of mocking Wilbur and promptly chokes seeing the man. His face must do something funny because Wilbur starts to laugh himself sick after looking at him. Phil looks at both of them, confused before turning to his son. "Did I forget something again? I swear, it's hard sometimes."
Wilbur gives him a thumbs-up while trying to calm himself. "You're- Looking like a real human being here Dad, congrats." Tommy is still speechless, trying to process whatever is in front of him. Phil, seeing his face, sighs sadly. "It's alright, Tommy, I'm not working so you can say what you want. It's about my outfit again isn't it?"
Tommy cannot contain it any longer. He should call the police. "What the hell are you wearing?" He could excuse the anime-looking green clothes maybe if it wasn't coupled with some atrocious green and white hat. This is an insult to the entire fashion industry, and Tommy doesn't even care about fashion.
"It's my- Wilbur stop laughing you little- It's my everyday clothes!"
Wilbur whispers conspicuously. "We can't get him to change it. At least he agreed to leave it behind for official work hours."
The man in front of him cannot be the principal that scared him so much, the one who looked like he'd set you on fire while smiling politely. "How did you even get those?"
Phil looks down on his clothes. "I... made them?" Wilbur elbows him. "He sewed them. Very talented." All right, pretty weird but a man gotta have his hobbies.
"Anyway, how are you handling the cleaning? Everything's okay?" Tommy pointedly avoids looking at Wilbur. "Yeah, it's fine."
Little by little, evening after evening, Tommy relaxes around them. One time, Wilbur convinces him to ditch the chores and go for ice cream with him. He even paid for Tommy's! He's not gonna lie, it feels a bit like having a second Techno in his life, which always makes his stomach churns thinking of it. They still haven't found him or the other guy who disappeared at the same time, and fuck, Tommy misses him even though they only met up a couple of times by semester.
-
The only problem with them, apart from Wilbur's general clumsiness and the sometimes strange lack of knowledge from Phil, is that they're very... clingy. It's a hand swiping dust away from his shoulder, a pat on his head, or even, on one memorable occasion, an impromptu dance session. It would not bother him usually but touch has always been a difficult thing for him. Nobody gets truly close to him, nobody even tries. There's Tubbo of course, but they're teenagers and stuck in this weird phase where they'd sacrifice themselves for the other but are still incapable of hugging seriously.
It doesn't feel bad, the opposite actually, a strange warmth spreading to his skin, but it's still weird. He brings it up one day, when the buzzing inside his head won't shut up, and Wilbur mindlessly reaches out to readjust his jacket (too big on him because his foster parents decided against buying him his own).
"Hey, why are you doing this?"
He blinks, confused. "Doing what?"
Tommy plays with his jacket's string, suddenly self-conscious. Maybe he overexaggerated it in his head? "The touching thing."
Wilbur's face lit up with understanding. "Oh, that? T- My brother had difficulties understanding it too." The brother again, mentioned so much but never by name. "It's a thing humans do when they like someone!"
He rolls his eyes. "I know dickhead, it's just. Why are you doing it to me?"
The other's smile gets impossibly softer. "You idiot child, what is there not to like in you? You're funny, incredibly loyal and you have so much passion inside of you!" Tommy was not prepared for the assault of compliments and it makes his eyes tingle and his face turns all red. Of annoyance, of course, he's not some weak-ass child tearing up over this. "Fuck off." He tries to get away before Wilbur can sense the weakness. Too late.
"Ow is the little child feeling affected? Do you want a hug?" He spreads his arms wide apart and approaches threateningly. Tommy tries to get out but it's useless and he's engulfed by what feels like ten octopuses trying to cling to him. He struggles half-heartedly. "Get off, asshole."
Phil enters the room at this very moment and pauses at the scene in front of him. Tommy seizes the chance to be saved. "Philll, help me, your son is trying to assassinate me." Wilbur is warm, warmer than he should be wearing only a shirt, and faced with chuckles from both sides, he gives up this hopeless fight. "I hate you." He muffles against his collarbone, speaking past the lump in his throat. "You're a terrible person and I hate you."
"Shush, child."
" Not a child. I'm the biggest man ever. Soon, I'll be an adult and shit, I'll do adult stuff like... paying taxes and having wives." Phil looks up from whatever he was doing with a curious look.
"Taxes? What are those?" Tommy steps back to give him an unimpressed look. Wilbur laughs again. "Oh we usually do that stuff for him, he's so bad at this you wouldn't believe."
"... How are you even principal here?"
Phil shrugs. "I had a very convincing argument."
"Which is?"
He smiles sharply. "I was here for the interview while other candidates... were not."
"That's the shittiest argument I've ever seen. I'm almost impressed it worked."
Wilbur cuts him. "You don't even know how many things go his way."
The father and the son share an amused glance. It feels like some inside joke he's not a part of.
-
"So they're nice?" Tubbo says, while sprawled on his bed, spamming the freeze button to keep Tommy from moving. He kicks him in the leg to distract him and sets fire to his character. "I guess." He feels like a little kid trying to describe the sunset, so full and heavy with colors it's difficult to put in words. It makes him a bit uneasy, to be this attached to people he met by coincidence. If he moves away now, he doesn't know how he'll ever pick up the pieces of himself left scattered.
Tubbo, oblivious to his worries, continues. "By the way, you gotta talk to your birds dude, they're rabid sometimes I swear." Tommy looks out the window where, surely, some crows watch them play, silent and unmoving. "Whaddya mean?"
"Sometimes they follow me when I go home and when I try to say hello, they scream at me until I go inside. Scared the shit out of me the first time it happened."
"Shit. Didn't think they'd do that, sorry. They're probably jealous or something. I'll try to yell at them but they're birds. Dumb as fuck."
"I don't know. Sometimes, they look-" Tommy finally crushes him and the screen turns black to his despair. "Fuck you man!" They laugh.
Outside on the neighbor's field, the bright red strawberries left behind start to rot. September ends heavy with promises and autumn can finally start: it is time for the old to wither away.