Chapter Text
Thomas sits on the bathroom floor, sighs and looks at what were his perfectly ironed dress pants, now wrinkled, as he catches a glimpse of himself in the broken shards of the mirror. It was the stray cat's fault, not his, alright?
His father was beyond mad when Wilbur brought him back to their house, albeit the next day so it was understandable, freshly cleaned, fed, and in tip-top shape. But what he couldn’t fathom was his father's rage directed at him! Goodness, what had he done this time?!
Apparently, it was discovered that one of his ‘Big Man Investments for Big Man Things’ was causing the sudden depletion in their funds, and had his father on a wild goose chase over several calls, meetings, and even interrogations with business partners to figure out who had been embezzling or stealing from their company.
Eventually, the answers came through an email from one of his many affiliates. A man’s gotta socialize and network in the name of business alright . It just so happens that he used his father’s account as a recovery email at the time.
And so the man saw the numerous amounts of concerning security and verification messages regarding Thomas’ account’s expenses once he sat down after that hectic day and used his personal phone again after a long time. Intrigued, his father, upon further investigation, got a hold of the aforementioned most recent email he’d gotten through guessing his account’s password an gaining access.
He’ll get better at cybersecurity in the future, Thomas notes from his experience.
As of late, he’s been grounded and cannot step foot outside his bedroom until his father sorts out the mess he’d made. Thomas is pretty sure he’s banned from socializing and networking, or even using the internet, for a very long while.
With a huff, he got up, dusted his wrinkled pants, and walked out of the bathroom. He’ll let the housekeeper know about the state of his bathroom mirror later.
Since he can’t contact people much after the loss and tragedy that was his investment, he settles on writing a letter. It's not the internet father , he reasons in his head.
The ring of a doorbell startles the tranquility in the Craft household, and the head housekeeper rushes to open the door to find an unprecedented visitor. They are met with the city mayor’s son.
“Good morning!” He chirps, brown hair covering mischievous eyes “Is Tommy home?” he inquires.
The housekeeper nods their head “Yes, though, Sir Thomas is…asleep in his room at the moment.” They inform him “He especially asked not to be disturbed. Best leave him to rest”. He doesn't miss the way they fidget with their hands “Is there anything else we can help you with, sir?”. Tubbo resists the urge to shoot them with a doubtful glare. He smiles instead.
“Oh!” He exclaims “I see, well then,” he reaches for his pockets and takes out a crumpled envelope “Please give this to him with my regards”. Tubbo hands it over to the housekeeper and bids them farewell as he retreats back to the car.
The chauffeur opens the door for him and he slips inside easily, “To Ranboo’s, please” he requested before they drove off and away from the gates and vicinity of the Crafts’. Once he deems them far enough, Tubbo grabs his phone and makes a call not a moment later.
It only rings once before “Hello?” an answer comes. “Jack!” Tubbo says in lieu of a greeting, “Say, bossman, has there been anyone suspicious boarding lately?” asking straight to the point. “Kinda looking for someone here, I don’t think they’re still in the same place we left him” He supplemented for context.
There was a quiet hum from the other side of the line “Do you have any distinguishable features or characteristics I can narrow down my list with? There’s been a lot of weird fellows lately, Tubbo” Jack then says.
Tubbo doesn’t even have to think for that one “Just anyone loud and probably annoying at first, with blonde hair and blue eyes.” He startled when a laugh erupted from the other man. “I may have interacted with this particular annoying blond, he cussed me out actually.”
“Yup, sounds about right.” Tubbo confirms. The car takes another turn, indicating they’re getting near their destination. “Could you send me the details of the flight or train ride over later? I’ll just get Ranboo in on the plan”.
“Yeah, yeah, in a bit. Oh, and tell Ranboo I said hi ''
“Will do, thanks again, Jack!”
The call ended just as they arrived at the gates. Ranboo and his tutors were probably not even finished yet but Tubbo can wait.
It certainly took him long enough to realize one of his best friends was gone.
Philza Craft is a businessman. That much is a fact most people know. He owns one of the most successful companies in the city, the Antarctic Empire. Yet, today, he feels like he has failed at being a good father.
Was he too harsh on Tommy when he grounded him, reduced half of his allowance, and lectured him on saving money? No, no, that was the responsible parent thing to do. For discipline , he reasons.
He sighs for the fifth time, stopping in his tracks from pacing back and forth in front of his son’s bedroom door. He steels himself, taking a deep breath, he knocks. “Tommy?” He calls, and there is no answer. He swallows.
“Look, mate I know I’ve been tough on you these past few days,” Philza starts “I know we’ve said some things we didn’t mean back then, but...I'm sorry."
When the silence prevailed, he dared to call for him again “Tommy?” Silence answered him. Philza sighs, shoulders slumped in defeat “Alright, just- come down for dinner when you’re hungry. Being grounded can just be staying inside the house rather than just in your room all day.” He offers before leaving.
A loud crash came from inside the room then which got Philza doing a 180 degree turn. “Tommy, what was that?! Are you hurt?” He finds himself back at the door. “I’ll be entering your room, okay?” He turns the knob and his eyes land on a cat playing with the pieces of broken mirror shards.
“...What?” He finds no Tommy. He immediately checks the surroundings, inspecting the rooms, “Tommy?!” He opens the bathroom door, and there he finds the sink littered with a single bottle of hair dye and clothes strewn about.
He reaches for his phone, contacting two numbers simultaneously and foremost in his panic
“Tommy’s gone.” He states first, ignoring the hysteria it caused on the other end “Launch a search party for a boy with red hair and blue eyes, a teenager. Get them in every part of the city.” He breathes “Have some outside too, and check the latest flights, train rides, or even cars coming in and out of the city.”
“Phil,” one of the voices came through, calm and collected “Where’d you think the kid’s gone to?”
Another pipes up after, more worried than thinking clearly “How long has he been gone?! I swear I’ve just dropped him off there last week, Phil-”
Philza silences them both with a quick “Enough,”
“We’ll find Tommy” He reassures them and himself
“He couldn’t have gotten far”.