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“Hey, you’re Tommy right?”
Tommy stiffens slightly, raises his head slowly to peer at the person speaking to him. It’s a girl with short black hair, leaning over his desk resting on her palms.
“Mrs. Moore wanted me to show you around,” she smiles, and Tommy notices her front teeth are crooked. “Since you transferred mid-year.”
“…Oh.” Tommy says. He isn’t sure what else to say, but he apparently doesn’t have to because she jumps right back into talking.
“My name’s Jennifer, but no one calls me that except my mom, it’s just Jenny.”
“I’m just Tommy.” He responds dumbly, but she still laughs, blue eyes crinkling up genuinely. Tommy feels…. odd, hearing her laugh. He thinks she’s the first person to laugh with him instead of at him in years.
“Ok Tommy, what’s your next class?” Jenny asks, rocking back on her heels and tilting her head in a way that makes her look actually… interested… in Tommy.
“Uhmmm— uh… chemistry? I think- I mean. Yeah. Definitely chemistry.” Tommy stutters, and he almost jumps out of his skin when Jenny grabs his hand and pulls him up out of his chair.
“Ok! I’ll take you there!”
“I—uh- cool.” Tommy yelps, almost stumbling as she starts to tug him out the door, leading him down the hallway.
“So Tommy, where’d you come from?” Jenny asks, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Um. Well-“ Tommy starts. Stops. “Lots of places.”
“Oh, you move around a lot?”
“Yeah.”
“With your parents?”
“No. Just- Just me and my brother.”
Jenny pauses, “…I’m sorry.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Tommy shrugs, “I don’t remember them much.”
“Oh. Well, is your brother nice?”
“Yes,” Tommy says. Then he remembers conversations are supposed to go two ways, “how about you.”
“It’s just me and my mom,” she answers, “where’s your locker?”
“Uh- one twenty six, on the right wall,” Tommy says. Jenny nods and, even though he knows where they're going, keeps holding his hand.
She’s pretty. Objectively. When he glances over at her he notices a mark right under the edge of her sleeve. He absentmindedly reaches his hand out to brush it. Jenny looks confused for a moment, then lights up, dropping Tommy’s hand to pull her sleeve up, showing off a tanned birthmark. “It’s a duck!” She grins, then says “Quack.” And pokes his shoulder.
“I guess it does kinda look like a duck,” Tommy says, smiling a bit despite himself. Then he mirrors her, lightly prodding her shoulder and quacking back.
Jenny beams at him. And suddenly, Tommy doesn’t feel so bad. He feels comfortable, all the tension between them evaporating.
Jenny walks him to his chemistry class, and when he walks out she’s already waiting for him. It turns out they have math, PE, and history together. By the end of the day Tommy feels like he’s floating.
The next morning he’s nervous, antsy when Wilbur walks him to school. What if Jenny actually doesn’t like him, only talked to him because the teacher forced her to, and she’s never going to even look at him again, will laugh in his face for thinking anyone could possibly want to be friends with him.
His hands shake as he stares down at his feet, taking slow measured steps.
“Tommy,” a girl's voice calls, “we saved you a spot!”
Tommy leans backwards to peer at a ground of teenagers sitting together on the school lawn. Jenny and another girl and a boy.
Tommy smiles.
Maybe this school year will be normal.
“How was your day?”
“Normal.” Tommy mutters as he closes the front door, backpack slipping off his shoulder to the floor.
“Normal,” Wilbur echoes, raising an eyebrow at the blonde as he walks past him.
“Normal.” Tommy doesn't even look at Wilbur.
“Don't leave your backpack on the floor.” Tommy ignores him going straight to his room. “You hear me?” The door closes and Wilbur is left with a bitter taste on his mouth.
--
“How do you eat that?”
“What? It 's good.” Tubbo says chewing a dry jerky, holding the package with one hand while the other stays firm on the wheel.
“It 's gross.” Tommy scrunch up his nose in disgust.
“We’ve eaten worse.” Tubbo answers easily. “Like that guy who wanted you to get in his car.”
“I thought we agreed on never speaking about that again.”
“Never agreed to that. I said it was a win for everybody.”
“I wouldn't say our friend almost being kidnapped is a win.” Ranboo chimes in hesitantly.
“We got cash and a fuck load of snacks!”
“He was a weirdo.”
“Don't be a baby.” The brunette bites another chunk out of the jerky. “You should get your scrawny ass in more cars if we can make some money out of it.”
The two of them fall quiet as they turn to stare at the brunette.
“What?” Tubbo asks, giving a quick confused glance to the duo before looking back at the road. “Am I wrong? It 's quick cash.”
“We need to stop for gas soon.” Ranboo nervously changes the subject from putting their friend in danger for money.
--
The door creaks too much as Tommy slowly eases it open, an ear-splitting whine that makes him wish he could curl into himself and hide. Please if there is a God let Wilbur stay asleep. Tommy needs Wil to be asleep.
He peaks around the doorframe nervously, tries not to curse under his breath when he sees the kitchen light glowing softly. Fuck.
Tommy squeezes through the smallest gap possible and eases his bookbag off his shoulder to the floor. He recites a mantra in his head.
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do it. I'm so sorry.’
He forces himself to think of something sad. Wilbur’s dog dying, or their mama, or that really scary movie Tommy swore to Wilbur wasn’t going to give him nightmares. Tries desperately to make his eyes well up with tears because Wilbur can’t yell at him if he’s crying.
It’s all bullshit of course, and his body isn’t nice enough to shed a single drop of convincing sorrow. He’s too wired up. Tommy’s head is fuzzy, warm, sated. He feels full and sleepy like right after thanksgiving, all he really wants is to take a hot bath and then sleep until noon. He doesn’t get why he has to pretend to be sad about this.
Tommy’s never understood why he has to feel guilty for this.
How can he force himself to feel bad about the only thing that makes him feel sane? The only thing that makes him feel like he can fucking think. Tommy is so hungry. He’s starving constantly.
Tommy licks his lips absentmindedly, then immediately cringes. The taste of earth and copper on his skin is a harsh reminder of what is about to happen.
Tommy walks into the kitchen.
Wilbur doesn’t look up from his cup of coffee. The slightest tightening of his fingers around the mug handle the only indication he’s noticed Tommy. “Go clean up.”
“Wil-“
“Please. Just go wash your face.” Wilbur’s voice crackles with something anguished. “I can’t- just… just clean up.”
Tommy wants to say something else, hesitates for a moment. But the shower is calling to him like a sweet siren. So he just drops his head and brushes past Wilbur into the bathroom.
Tommy avoids his own eyes in the mirror. But he still catches a glimpse of the wet chunks of skin and blood crusted around his mouth.
He licks his lips and this time he doesn’t cringe, swallows down the burn that feels like heaven.
He’s supposed to feel guilty for this.
--
“You're funny.”
“What?”
“You.” Jennifer leans closer, a finger touching his nose, red with the cold. “Are funny.”
“Funny?”
“Yeah, silly.”
“How?” Tommy smiles looking at her, faces close. It's nice having someone outside of Wilbur to be this close with. She feels warm.
“I don't know.” Her smile is pretty. “You make me laugh.” The snow sticking to her hair makes Jennifer feel more real. Not like a dream or a fantasy.
Jenny always looked so free. Certainly a wild spirit. Her fingerless gloves exposing her undone nails that she likes to bite on. Even in the cold she refuses to use proper covering. Her ear muffs match her gloves and a patch she put on her snow coat.
They stay silent for a while, Tommy flicking his gaze over Jenny's face while she stares back, smile slowly dropping to a more focused expression. Like she decided something.
“Tommy…” She whispers and their faces are close and he can feel her breath and she is everything he ever wanted, everything he can't have.
Everything Tommy can never be.
“I–”
--
Wilbur is the most normal thing in Tommy's life.
A constant.
The only thing he knows will stay.
“Popcorn.” A bowl is thrown on Tommy's lap. “Move over.” Wilbur doesn't even give him a chance to move before plopping himself down on the couch next to his brother, almost knocking the younger's bowl off, throwing long legs on his lap. Tommy simply lifts the container out of the way letting Wilbur get comfortable.
“Did you put in the tape?” Wilbur asks, with his own bowl of the salty snack and Tommy nods, eating a handful of popcorn. “Nice.” He throws a crunchy treat in his mouth. “What did you get?”
The film is already rolling. “The shining.” Tommy answers, right when the title appears confirming his truth. Blue eyes focused on the screen.
“Sounds good.”
He doesn't know how to feel when Wilbur acts this way.
Like a brother.
Wilbur always takes care of him, always. The older is there no matter what. But sometimes he questions if his brother loves him.
There's this look Wilbur got, he thinks Tommy doesn't notice but he does.
Wilbur resents him.
That 's alright. Tommy understands.
He doesn't need love.
--
Tubbo is like him.
“Can I have one?”
The shorter doesn't even glance in his direction before pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and passing it to Tommy. The blonde leans down so he can light it.
“Thought you were gonna stay with Ranboo.” Tubbo comments, blowing smoke away.
“Ranboo is fine.” Tommy breathes in smoke and coughs. He never liked this. He knew Wilbur smoked behind his back.
Forget him.
The smoke in his lungs makes him feel like he is back home.
He doesn't have a home.
“Didn't know your brain could work that hard, I can smell the rubber burning.”
“Fuck off.”
Tubbo laughs. “Wow, calm down.” The brunette looks up at him, flickering his nose and sniffing. “You weren't the one who got bitched out for putting food on the table.”
“Ranboo is different.” Tommy defends without thought, flicking his cigarette before taking another hit. His gloves need a wash.
“Yeah, but you aren't.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you and him are cowards.” Tubbo points at Tommy, fully turning his direction. He doesn't sound or look angry, like earlier. Tommy only stands there. “I don't have time for whatever you guys have going on.” The brunette throws his cigarette on the ground, stepping on it. “If you guys don't like this, you can leave. I'm not stopping you.” Tubbo says, before walking away.
Tommy only watches, taking another drag.
Tubbo is like him in many ways.
--
Tommy can't really pinpoint exactly when things took a turn.
One moment he was having his first kiss, tasting strawberry lip gloss and feeling cold but soft lips against his and the next he was on the ground. Red covering his vision, a bloody coat, torn and thrown open, dark eyes staring up at him.
Jennifer was lying so still under him, her pale face looking devoid of life, emotionless and stained with red, wrong. She wasn't breathing anymore and when Tommy looked down he couldn't help the noise that came out of the back of his throat, like a wounded animal, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as he realized what he had done.
Her chest is nothing but a carcass, meat still hanging from the ribs and a pool of blood under the body, slowly creeping down paths of snow.
Tommy couldn't stop.
He couldn't stop eating and the tears didn't stop flowing and he couldn't breathe.
He loves her so much.
He loved her.
He did.
He wants her.
He can't stop.
He needs her.
He can't.
He needs to be her.
He needs her to be his.
He might die.
There's nothing left but a bloodied coat and a pair of fingerless gloves, ear muffs forgotten in the snow.
--
Tommy always liked the sky. It's beautiful, it's vast, it goes beyond anyone can ever imagine.
It's where the sun is. He was never meant to stay under it. Tommy loved the sun, but he knows it doesn't love him back.
Things like him belong in the dark.
That 's okay. The moon is only brightened by the sun. He can love her too, just like the stars.
Ranboo loves the moon.
Tommy is sure she loves him back by the way it embraces him in her light.
“Wish I could reach up there sometimes.”
“Bet you still got a chance. Wouldn't be the first American to land on the moon… but sure would be the first eater.”
Ranboo doesn't laugh. He almost never does, not when they bring up the morbid reality.
“Do you know constellations Tommy?” The blonde doesn't answer, just waits for Ranboo to keep going. “There's this person I can't remember, I can barely remember their voice, telling me about the stars and how they can lead me back home.” Ranboo has a sad look on his face watching the stars, he always looks like he is full of sorrow. “It's a distant memory though.” He looks at Tommy. “I'm afraid of losing it.”
“You won’t.”
“We can't be sure.”
“We can.” Tommy presses. “We can write it down somewhere.”
A smile begins to grow on Ranboo's lips. “Where?”
“I don't know. We can find you a notebook.”
“Yeah, that would be– That would be great.”
“I know. You're gonna be able to write down everything you don't want to forget.”
“Yeah, that's nice.”
“I am very nice.”
“You are also very nice, Tommy.”
They laugh, young and free, like normal teens hanging out in the summer. Tommy feels light.
Ranboo is easy. Good company, make him feel confident, secure, not alone.
“Can you shut up and go to sleep?” Tubbo barks from behind Ranboo.
The mattress on the truck's trunk surprisingly fit the three of them. A life savior for when they have no place to rest.
Tommy and Ranboo giggle hearing Tubbo huff annoyed.
--
“I thought…”
Tommy can't look at him right now, he knows what he will see.
“I thought we were doing good, I thought you were finally– We were finally over. With all that.” Wilbur is disappointed.
More than that.
Wilbur hates him. Mourns a normality they never had and never will.
He hates him.
Tommy knows, he knows he is unlovable. He knows he is a monster.
He is not human.
They burned what was left of her, bloodied torn fabrics. What they couldn't destroy will go into a bag and be buried in a forest somewhere.
Wilbur wants a normal brother, a normal life, to settle in without having to worry about moving out, to make friends, to have relationships, to have stability.
Tommy clenches the dirty fingerless gloves so hard his fingers hurt.
For how long will Tommy keep him from having that life?
“I'm– Oh Tommy…” His voice falters, shaking like he is about to cry, strained like he is holding it in. Wilbur leans back, head turned up with palms pressed to his eyes, a dry laugh and a bitter smile held on his lips. He then falls back forward, breathing deeply. “We're moving out.” He states. “We have a few weeks at least, there's no… No body to look for. I'm– We're moving out in a few weeks.” That 's all. Tommy doesn't dare look up, he just nods before Wilbur turns to walk away.
Tommy follows right after.
When Wilbur’s brother was eight Wilbur tried to kill him.
Wilbur doesn’t remember his thought process, he doesn’t think there was one. They were in a new house, one that had a sectioned off bedroom and enough room for Wilbur to set up a cot in the corner of the living room so they didn’t have to share a bed anymore.
He gave Tommy the room, told him it was because he was growing up and deserved some privacy, but the allure of a padlock on the outside of the door was the real selling point.
There were a few days where Wilbur felt bad, saying goodnight and tucking Tommy into bed and then locking him in like some sort of fucking animal. It's for safety. Wilbur would remind himself. It’s for Tommy’s safety. Everything Wilbur did was to keep Tommy safe.
Wilbur couldn’t sleep, tossed and turned for hours with the burning desire to do something. Something needed to be done.
Wilbur sat up on the edge of his rickety cot, stared out the window at the backyard, the neighboring houses.
Tommy was sick, that's what Wilbur called it, a sickness. He was sick and he wasn’t getting better. Wilbur thought he would get better, if he just kept him safe. But it wasn’t working.
The tap was too loud when Wilbur crept to it to get a drink of water, he filled the glass too much and watched the water run over his knuckles for several seconds before it occurred to him to turn it off.
Wilbur was half-drunk on sleep deprivation when he slipped into Tommy’s room. He didn’t know what he was doing. But he needed to do something, anything.
He silently pulled the extra pillow Tommy kept behind him into his arms, hugged it tight like he could strangle it, maybe he could also strangle the terrible thoughts plaguing him.
Tommy is sick. Tommy has to be fucking locked away at night like a rabid animal, has to be kept in secret and cant walk to school alone because Wilbur doesn’t want him to kill someone and— Wilbur is tired.
Wilbur places the pillow over Tommy’s face, he doesn’t know what he’s doing, body disconnected from his brain, robotically performing tasks.
Wilbur reaches up to press down on the pillow. That's what he’s supposed to do right? For the greater good? He’s responsible for killing the monster he’s let Tommy become.
The moment his palms touch the fabric Wilbur freezes, the tears he didn’t know were dripping down his face until now start to choke him. He shakes like a leaf as he sobs, picks the pillow back up and curls around it.
Tommy’s face scrunches up, the boy blinks his eyes open and yawns, rubbing his face. “Wil?”
Wilbur crumbles, circles the bed and lays down next to Tommy, hugs him close and pets his hair until the younger lulls himself back to sleep. Wilbur buries his face between Tommy’s shoulder blades and sobs.
Wilbur is a coward.
--
“Happy birthday.”
The voice who wakes him up is sweet, happy even. Wilbur is smiling, carrying a cupcake with a lighted candle on top. Tommy sits up.
Fifteen.
He is turning fifteen.
“Make a wish.” Wilbur kneels down beside the bed holding the cupcake in front of Tommy's face, who stares at it with dead eyes.
He doesn't deserve this.
Getting older, living longer.
Jennifer would be forever fourteen.
Tommy blows the candle and Wilbur smiles fondly, visibly tired.
“What did you wish for?” He asks, leaning his head on his arm folded on the mattress, while the other still holds the cupcake up.
Freedom.
“Happiness.”
--
The last couple of months were rough.
Tommy definitely doesn't know how to handle himself alone. Wilbur never let him. But Tommy has been managing it so far. A good amount of money safely guarded, sleeping on benches, taking buses to wherever life takes him.
He is free.
Wilbur is free.
But it seems like hunger doesn't die with freedom.
That's how he finds himself hiding in a random truck he found with a window open, poorly throwing himself in and hiding on the floor under the deck as a trio of angry men pass by looking for him.
He shouldn't speak to random women and try to lead them into a secluded space.
Who knew.
He stays there for an excruciating amount of time before he decides to relax. When he goes to get up from the truck floor he hears voices approaching the vehicle and at first he thinks that they are just passing by but right when he puts an arm on the seat to prop himself up a guy opens the doors and he comes face to face with a brunette boy, who stares him back with a confused look.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Tubbo, this is wrong!”
“For fucks sake Ranboo. Can you stop?!” Tubbo snaps, turning to look at the taller teen with raised hands, fingers curled like he has claws. “Can you shut the fuck up for once and stop lamenting to yourself?”
“I'm sorry, I just can't–” Ranboo has a gift of looking smaller than they are.
“It's always the same fucking excuse! I'm tired of this shit! ‘Woo I can't.’ ‘I'm sick.’ ‘This Is wrong.’ ‘I'm a monster.’ Boo-hoo deal with it!” Tubbo exclaims, gesticulating like a mad man. “It's the same shit every time, you act all sad and sorry for yourself and then eat like it's the last meal you will ever have and then cry like a baby!”
“It's not right!” Ranboo is crying and Tubbo is mad.
“Well guess what buddy, this is how life is! This is who we are.”
“I'm not like you, I'm not heartless.” The moment the words leave Ranboo's mouth is when they realize their mistake. Eyes go wide and a silence takes over the two of them as they stare at each other.
Tubbo is shaking.
“I'm heartless.”
“Tubbo…”
“No! No. You're right, I'm the fucking heartless cunt and I'm the insensitive idiot that stuck with you leeches for this long.”
“Tubbo, I didn't mean it–”
“YOU DID!” Tubbo turns the table with fishing supplies to the floor, baits and hooks flying everywhere, he kicks it for good measure. “You fucking meant it!” He grabs a fishing rod, throwing it away. “Be a man and own up to your fucking beliefs, handle your mistakes Ranboo! Finally you're stepping up, huh? Telling what you really think of me to my face?”
Tommy finally appears, coming to check what all the noise was about, still bloodied and bare footed, probably was washing himself.
The two don't even turn in his direction. Tubbo too busy screaming his frustrations away on Ranboo's face, poking their chest, red in the face and destroying more fishing equipment, the table, the tent, throwing anything he could grab far away in anger. While Ranboo was arguing back, crying and sobbing, flinching everytime Tubbo snapped back into his aggressive fit and closed up on them to scream insults and hurtful things.
Tommy doesn't know how to react at first, freezing in place and watching the argument unfold until he snaps back when Tubbo once again goes back to poke Ranboo on the chest.
The blonde moves before his mind can process, getting in between the two pushing the brunette away and getting in front of the older teen.
“Back off.”
Tubbo stares at Tommy with wide eyes, like he is baffled that the younger would have the balls to confront him.
Then his eyes get dark, dangerous and he grabs Tommy by the collar of his shirt. A scowl held on his face, anger so strong it spreads throughout his whole body.
Ranboo's protests go into deaf ears, background noise as the other two lock eyes. Tommy feels fear and that's unexpected. That's a feeling he would not in a million years see coming from him. He fears Tubbo.
The older is breathing through his nose, like a bull and Tommy braces himself.
Tubbo expression falters for a second. Hands going loose before he pushes the blond back. Ranboo immediately hugs Tommy close, like he is protecting the younger from Tubbo and for a moment he can see hurt in the brunette’s eyes.
“Let's just leave.” Ranboo whispers, pulling Tommy away. None of them say a word, Tubbo stays in his place while Ranboo takes the youngest of them away from danger. Away from him.
Tommy doesn't say a word as he lets himself be pulled, not moving his gaze from Tubbo.
“Yeah, run away!” The shorter screams from afar swating a hand at them. “Run away like the cowards you are! Fucking–” He is hurt. Tommy can see that. Behind all that anger there's so much hurt he wonders how Tubbo keeps it all in.
Tommy watches as Tubbo goes into another fit, screaming so loud he is sure the closest city hears it. The last thing he sees is him destroying the camp before Ranboo nudges him into walking back to the trail.