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What a disaster the day had been. Jimmy just wanted to go to the square, get a bite to eat, and pick up his package, but it felt like everything was going wrong; he forgot his phone, the Christmas lights were turned off for maintenance, his favorite cafe was closed, and his package was missing. Everything that could go wrong did, even his ride home went wrong! Jimmy typically took the subway for short trips, and today he just so happened to miss it. He groaned as he watched the subway windows move past, heaving in breaths as he solemnly stared at the now empty tracks.
Jimmy huffed as he sat down on one of the subway benches, ignoring the person on the other side as he dropped his head in his hands. The struggles of the day had finally caught up with him, leaving him exhausted and miserable. He rubbed at his face as he pulled his head out of his hands. A glance at the clock confirmed that the next train wouldn’t be here for another forty minutes, oh my goodness , this day couldn’t be worse.
He groaned once again, leaning back on the bench as he began the long wait for the second train; at this rate he’d be lucky to get home by six. Poor Norman, home all alone. He isn’t alone, Scott should be at his apartment, but according to his friends and boyfriend, Norman sits at the door and screams for him until he gets back; so, poor Norman, home without him.
Jimmy looked around, bored without his phone or any other distraction that could help time fly, though that was boring as well. It was a subway, mostly empty, surprisingly, but just as dirty as any other subway. He swears he sees a rat run across a bench and briefly debates just standing, but that would be far worse than sitting for forty minutes, so he just cautiously examines the bench he’s sitting on when finally notices something interesting.
The other guy on the bench looks exactly like him.
Jimmy quickly turns away, feeling himself begin to sweat; he really hopes they didn’t notice his staring, oh gosh, what if they noticed his staring and is now convinced he’s a stalker trying to steal their identity? Oh no, what if they were a stalker trying to steal his identity!? Jimmy rubs his hands together, trying to rid himself of the negative thoughts; he was definitely overreacting, but with all the terrible things that had happened today, he wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t.
Jimmy felt all of his nerves go alight as he felt eyes on him; now they were staring, and he could identify a glare when he felt it. Well, now he was seriously worried, did they think he was some identity-stealing stalker? It felt like hours had passed while they glared at him, though Jimmy knew it was really only two minutes at most, and finally something was said.
“Why do you look like me?”
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Today had been the shittiest day of his life. Starting with the fact that Tommy had missed his alarm and had to get a ride from Techno, the world’s worst driver , then the fact that he forgot a very important test and definitely did terrible on it, additionally, Tubbo was sick, Ranboo was out of town, and who the fuck knew where Purpled was, so he was all alone, and finally, to top it all off, Wilbur failed to pick him up, leading to take the hour walk from his school to the subway, and he knew an argument was waiting at home. Not for him, but for Wilbur, who their dad was currently pissed at for not picking Tommy up and for going off and getting high, so he wouldn’t even get peace in the comfort of his own home! Needless to say, the gods hate him and him specifically, a fact only proven as he watches the first train leave without him.
Tommy desperately looks at the schedules, hoping, praying that the next train arrives soon, only to have all of his hopes and dreams crushed by forty minutes. If Tommy was more like his brothers, he’d smash his phone, kick the nearest trash can, and beat up the only other guy in the station who also missed his train; thankfully, for the random guy who sits next to Tommy and not literally any of the other twelve benches open for taking , Tommy is not like his brothers, he won’t smash his phone, and random, unlucky prick can keep his teeth. Tommy’s such a role model, honestly.
He keeps his arms crossed as he stares up at the ceiling. He’d play his phone if it wasn’t on five-fucking-percent , and Phil would roast him alive if he let it die, so he was struck; with no ride home and no phone, Tommy would have to wait for the painful forty minutes to tick by. Thankfully, the other guy who is currently being mocked by every higher power also seems to not have a phone available, so he won’t suffer alone.
Unfortunately, Tommy’s joy at the shared agony fades rather quickly when he feels eyes on him; is this fucker staring at him? What the fuck, Tommy didn’t make them late for their train, asshole. What if they weren’t an asshole and were actually a creep? What the fuck. Tommy won’t stand for this, fuck suffering! Tommy was going to make this guy so incredibly awkward, they’ll go and sit on an open bench.
With his mind set, Tommy turns to glare at the other person right as they turn away. He mentally curses them out for being a pussy in his head; if you’re gonna stare, you should be loud and proud like Tommy, who leans so his glare is closer. He’s sure they're feeling it by the way they rub their hands together and start to sweat. As Tommy’s anger somewhat subsides, though never fades, his glare turns more into a squint; is it just him, or do they kind of look alike? As Tommy continues his visual assault on the man he realizes that, yes, they look almost suspiciously alike.
Screw his anger, Tommy has to make sure it’s not just him.
“Why do you look like me?” Okay, not the way he wanted to ask that, but whatever works. The man startles slightly and turns to look at him. Now that Tommy is looking at him face-to-face, Tommy is convinced they have to be related somehow; the only differences is his eyes are blue, while the man’s eyes are a brown color similar to his older brothers’, and Tommy feels like he’s going to explode, what the fuck.
“Ex- Excuse me?”
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“Ex- Excuse me?” Jimmy asks, startled by the suddenness of the question and the similarity in their accents. They could be twins, if not for the fact that Jimmy can now observe his sudden doppelganger as a teenager.
“Why do you look like me?” he repeats, brows furrowing a bit further. At least he wasn’t glaring anymore, but it was something close. Jimmy is a bit lost for words.
“Well, I-” Jimmy struggles to think of a response, and seeing the teenager’s frown pull deeper, he panics. “If anything, you look like me, ‘cause I’m older,” he says and witnesses his mistake process in the teen’s head, glare returning sharper than before.
“Ex-fucking-cuse me, prick,” he hisses, and Jimmy is breifly shocked by the language, “just because I’m not ancient doesn’t mean I didn’t have this face first,” he refutes. Jimmy gapes before letting out a shocked laugh.
“ ‘Ancient?’ I’m 27,” he states, and is curious by the shocked look on the teen’s face — he doesn’t really look that old, does he? “And that is exactly what that means,” he continues. “I was born first, I had the face first.”
After a brief moment of silence that worries Jimmy further, the teen says, “Wow. I honestly thought you were younger.” As if realizing his compliment, the teen shakes his head and quickly adds on, “What’s the name of your plastic surgeon? My brother could really use the help.” Jimmy bursts into laughter and pretends not to notice how the teen seems to brighten a little at the sound.
“Your poor brother,” Jimmy finally says as he calms down, “what did he ever do to deserve this treatment?”
“Stole sixty dollars from me,” the teen answers quickly, but continues to speak before Jimmy could react to the concerning statement. “Why are you covered in hair?” the teen asks. Jimmy’s confused for a second, both by the sudden change of topic and question, before he looks down at himself and realizes; he’s covered in Norman’s hair.
Jimmy groans. “Oh, are you serious,” he mumbles, suddenly dejected by his messy appearance; he didn’t even realize! He cleaned this coat last night, how did Norman already cover it? Noticing the teen’s curiosity, he answers with a polite yet awkward grin. “I’ve got a cat,” he explains sheepishly.
The teen makes an aww-ing sound, smiling cheerfully — a total 180 from his previous attitude. “What’s their name?” the teen asked excitedly.
“His name is Norman,” Jimmy reaches for where his phone would be if he had it, only to deflate when he finds nothing. Typically, when asked, Jimmy would show some photos of Norman to whoever he’s talking to, but as luck would have it, his phone hasn’t magically spawned in. “I’d show you some photos, but forgot my phone,” he states. The teenager doesn’t dull, though.
“That’s fine, I can in-vis-un them,” the teen states confidently, while Jimmy struggles not to laugh at the odd pronunciation. After a few moments of comfortable silence, the teen asks, “Bad day?” Jimmy groans, recounting his misfortune.
“You have no idea,” he settles for; as much as he could really use the impromptu therapy session, he isn’t about to tell all his woes to a 16 year old.
The teen snorts. “I think I do, actually,” he disagrees.
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The nerve of this man with a probably-lovely cat. To assume Tommy doesn’t know hardships because he’s still young and beautiful.
“Your day going bad, too?” the man asks, tilting his head from where it was laying against the top of the bench. Tommy only hums as he rests his elbows to his knees and fists to his chin; now that he thinks about it, he’s actually pretty tired, but at least he has someone to make conversation with. Some time of silence goes by before the man speaks again. “What’s your name?” he asks, and Tommy remembers he’s talking to a total stranger.
Tommy gives the man an odd look. “Why should I tell you? What if you’re gonna, like, a murderer or something?” he accuses, narrowing his eyes as the man sputters.
“What? Why on Earth-” the man gives a shocked laugh. “If I was a murderer, why would I tell you about my cat?” he says, as if the answer isn’t rather obvious. Tommy huffs.
“To lure me away, obviously,” he responds.
“Why would I need to do that when we’re in an empty subway with no one else around?” he asks, gesturing around to the still empty subway.
“I don’t fucking know! Do I look like a kidnapper to you?” Tommy argued, though there was no heat behind it.
The man raised an eyebrow. “We look exactly alike,” he returned, “if you don’t look like a kidnapper, neither do I.”
Tommy turned the man’s words over in his head; fuck, he’s right. Tommy’s lost the plot here. “Fine, but if you try anything, I’ll stab you,” he grumbles, crossing his arms. “Tommy,” he finally answers.
“Oh gosh, even our names are alike,” the man noted, laughing at the pure absurdity of the the situation. The man held out his hand to Tommy. “Jimmy,” he says, as Tommy reaches out to shake his hand. His face scrunches at that.
“Oh God, we do have similar names. Who are you,” Tommy agrees. This situation was still very odd to him; sure, he’s heard of doppelgangers, but he always thought they were a myth or something you wouldn’t ever witness.
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Before either of them could say anything, a tone played over the subway’s speakers, announcing the arrival of their respective trains. Jimmy looked at the clock, finally realizing that forty minutes has, in fact, passed. Tommy hummed, surprised that the time had passed without any of them noticing — they were both disappointed, however, that their conversation would have to end. The turned to one another.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye,” Jimmy said, smiling sadly. The city was big, the chances of them seeing each other again was slim, but Jimmy tried to be hopeful. Tommy smiled back, not sad at all.
“More of a ‘see you later,’” he responded, rising to his feet. Jimmy stood, too, his back facing the tracks as his train arrived. Behind him, Tommy heard his own train arrive. They both smiled at each other before turning to get on their trains. Before the doors closed, Tommy yelled out to Jimmy. “Hey!” he shouted, getting Jimmy to turn to look at him. “Don’t go stealing my identity, or anything! I’ll find you if you try!” he threatened, grinning at the older blonde who laughed.
“Don’t worry!” he reassured. “I’d rather die than go back to highschool!” Tommy laughed as the train doors shut, separating the two who waved.
As the trains began to depart, moving the two in opposite directions, they both moved to sit down. The day had started terrible, but the two felt as if it wasn’t all that bad.