Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tommy doesn't really remember much of his childhood.

Most of it is nothing more than a blur, or simply based on things he'd been told by others. He's not sure if some of the memories are his own, or just things his mind has made up to fill in the gaps. 

The one thing he is certain of is that he remembers being a happy kid.

He can vaguely recall his first childhood home, a dingy little house on the outskirts of L'Manberg, a large friendly city, and in their little area mostly in the countryside, everyone knew everyone. He remembers this old bedroom, a tiny little room that had been shared with Wilbur, his older brother by 11 years. It was pretty small, and always messy, with a teenager and a toddler sharing it, but Tommy remembers that he liked it. There was a bay window looking over the forest, one that Phil had lined with pillows to turn it into a seat. 

They were a happy family, even if it was just the three of them. Tommy never got to meet his mother, but he heard about her a lot, and missed her just the same. Their dad, Phil, worked a lot, balancing two jobs to keep them afloat, because the death of their mother with medical costs and funeral costs had completely wrecked their savings, not that Tommy knew that at the time.

He remembers being late to school a lot, to the point that Wilbur started making himself late to his own school so he could drop Tommy off. Phil was always at work, he didn't have much choice, so Tommy didn't really blame him.

Wilbur did, though. 

That's one thing that stuck with him through his childhood years; he knew for certain that Wilbur absolutely despised their father more and more as they grew up. 

Tommy remembers Technoblade, who had started out as one of Phil's co-workers before Tommy had even been born, and quickly became a close friend of the family. Techno had no family, and he was a very shy person, so Phil had taken him under his wing. Tommy always looked up to Technoblade, thought he was so cool, maybe the coolest person he knew. He was super intimidating, despite the choppy pink hair that fell past his shoulders, he was tall, with broad shoulders and scruffy dark brown facial hair, and a low monotonous voice that Tommy loved to do impressions of. He only worked with Phil for a couple of years before he quit his job and went to study English at University, but he still remained a close family friend and would drive up on his motorbike to visit them between classes.

One thing he's sure he could never forget if he tried was Wilbur's eighteenth birthday. He knows that for certain because he has tried. Tommy, only seven at the time, vividly recalls it being the first time he'd been scared of Wilbur. 

Wilbur's birthday is in late September. He's barely started his final year of school. Tommy remembers Phil calling him out of school that day to celebrate, and Wilbur broke the news that he wouldn't actually be going back to school at all. Now he was eighteen, he was officially dropping out, and no one could stop him.

He'd stood behind the doorway of the kitchen, poking his head round and watching with big wide eyes as Wilbur and Phil shout at one another, harsh words exchanged that Tommy didn't understand at the time. Wilbur had been louder, and Tommy had overheard that the reason he dropped out was so he could stay home and look after his little brother, because someone had to. 

He remembers his stomach burning with guilt, ashamed of the burden he was putting on his big brother. 

Phil had shouted right back, telling him he was throwing away his future, that looking after Tommy was his job, not Wilbur's, and he was being ridiculous. Tommy will never forget watching Wilbur's whole demeanour just… drop.

One second, his face is flushed in frustration, hands balled into fists at his side, shouting but not screaming. Then he pauses, his eyes turn from desperate and pleading to furious and determined. He looks cold, and he looks a little crazy with his wide, terrifying eyes. He speaks quieter this time, words sharp and whispered, but Tommy hears them anyway, and he's more scared now than he was when Wilbur was shouting. 

He tells Phil that he either allows Wilbur to move out and take Tommy, or he's going to call CPS. He's threatening their dad.

Tommy can't ever forget seeing Phil freeze.

"Wil," he'd started, voice breaking. He sighs shakily, and from behind, Tommy sees him run a hand through his blond hair, stressed, "Wilbur, I do not neglect you two. I'm not here as much as I should be, I know, I work long days. But that's not because I don't love you two, if I could stay home all day with the two of you, I absolutely would. You two are my world. But, Wil, I can't be around more! I don't have the time," he pleads, but Wilbur's face doesn't falter. "I'm sorry about that, I really am, but calling CPS? They won't find anything!"

Wilbur stares back, unyielding and fiery, "I'll make sure they find something," he promises calmly.

Tommy recalls feeling terrified of Wilbur as he watches their dad slump down into one of the kitchen chairs, dropping his head into his hands. He asks Wilbur if he'd really failed as a father this badly.

His brother doesn't answer.

That's enough for Phil to accept Wilbur's ultimatum, on the grounds that he gives Tommy a better life. He says he's sorry he can't do more, that clearly he'll be happier with Wilbur.

His older brother had called Phil abusive and neglectful. Tommy thinks he was being a bit extreme; he still loves his dad, even if he wasn't around much. Tommy hadn't been planned, and his birth had killed their mother, so Phil was the sole earner not only for their eleven year old child, but now an infant too. He can sympathise, even if he's still bitter about their father's absence. 

It's the same night that Wilbur comes into their room and sits on the edge of Tommy's bed. He tells him to start packing the things he wants to bring, because he's going to start looking at places to live immediately, and he's been saving since the moment he got a part time job years ago now, so they can afford to leave pretty quickly.

He's always idolised his older brother, always trailed after Wilbur like a lost puppy. Wilbur never minded, always included Tommy in everything, even if it was 'uncool' to others to bring along his toddler brother to his hangouts with his teenage friends. Tommy loves his dad, he really does, but Wilbur tells him that, when they leave, he'll be around more than Phil is. It's hard to choose between them, but after that, he's too excited at the notion of having a whole place with just him and Wil that he doesn't disagree.

Three weeks later, they're out of there.

They move into an even dingier flat on the other side of L'Manberg, its not a great area, risky, high crime rates, but that means that their rent is cheaper, and it's not like they go out much.

Tommy thinks he likes living with Wilbur more than he liked living with their dad; he was kinder, he was around more, even with the amount he worked, and Tommy knew how much he loved him. Wilbur would work nights at a bar, leaving Tommy locked in the flat asleep, just so he wouldn't be alone while awake, and then he would work at a nearby store while Tommy went to school. He would pick him up every day, just so he didn't have to walk through the rough part of town to get back home while it was dark.

Tommy remembers thinking that Wilbur would be a great dad.

They decide one day to get their names changed. They'd once been Tommy and Wilbur Craft, taking on their dad's surname, but now that Wilbur is the one raising him, they suggest coming up with their own surname, just for the two of them. The day that the name change papers are finalized, they leave as Tommy and Wilbur Soot.

A week after they move out, Technoblade comes to visit the two of them. Tommy immediately knows it's him when he hears the motorbike roaring outside, and he immediately jumps up and waits at the window. 

"You know, when Phil told me you'd taken Tommy and moved out, I didn't know what to think," he comments with crossed arms, leaning against the wall next to Wilbur, who scowls at his words.

They're both watching Tommy as he sits on the floor with Wilbur's guitar in his lap, something that he'd been obsessed with but hadn't quite gotten the hang of, judging by the disjointed, awkward chords that half blocked out their conversation.

"But it seems like you're doin' a good job."

At that, he sees Wilbur relax a little out of the corner of his eye, pinched expression softening as his shoulders slump, "Well, it's not hard to do a good job compared to Phil."

Technoblade looks uneasy. Tommy knows he's Phil's best friend, a close friend of the family for nearly a decade now, but he also knows that he's babysat the both of them countless times, taken them on days out, and that he genuinely cares about the two of them. He can't imagine that it's easy to be in Techno's position, stuck between Phil and Wilbur, because he knows first-hand that the two are just as stubborn as each other. He's struck with sympathy for him, but he doesn't look over, pointedly continuing to strum the guitar messily to block out their words.

"You know, dear old dad hasn't visited us yet. He's called once, but he hasn't visited, and we've been gone a week, " Wilbur scoffs.

Tommy can feel Technoblade's eyes drift over to him, feels the familiar prickling on the back of his neck, which he tries to block out.

He doesn't want to hear them.

"He wanted to," Techno says, quieter this time, "He's asked me at least twenty times if he'd be overstepping to just show up unannounced. It's not exactly like he can call you anymore to ask, y'know, with him bein' blocked and all," he drawls, raising an eyebrow at Wilbur.

He sees his brother redden a little in his peripheral vision. "He's welcome to visit, he knows that. Tommy is still his son, I can't change that."

"You're still his son too," Technoblade quickly reminds him, not unkindly, but the inflection in his monotonous voice doesn't change, so it's hard to tell. Tommy can tell, though. "You're only eighteen, Wilbur. I know you've always been independent, but Phil's still your dad. You're raising a kid, and you're only six years younger than me. I can't imagine how difficult that is, you don't have to do this alone. No one's making you do this alone."

Wilbur doesn't reply to that.

Tommy decides he can't handle the awkward silence, so in his genius seven year old mind, he whirls around with the guitar in his lap, beaming toothily at the two of them, "Techno! Look at this, look at this!"

He clumsily manages to position his fingers to form a C chord, and strums. The guitar is out of tune, and his palm accidentally muted a couple of the strings, but it's not completely awful in comparison to the clunky chords he'd been strumming minutes ago, so its an improvement nonetheless.

Technoblade looks at him with a slight twitch of his lips, which is practically a grin in terms of him, and says, "Very cool, Tommy," sounding entirely unconvinced, but Tommy doesn't care. 

He grins back anyway, and then spends the rest of the day trying to perfect the guitar. He's not very good at it, but Wilbur encourages him anyway.

Living with Wilbur is the best time of Tommy's short little life so far. Their place is considerably smaller than their childhood home, which had been pretty small too, and the hot water turns off sometimes because they can't always afford it, and Wilbur works for quite literally half of the day, but he manages to plan it around Tommy.

He's always home when Tommy's awake. 

He attends every single one of Tommy's parents evenings, meets with each of his teachers and tirelessly explains the situation to every teacher who frowns and asks where Tommy's parents are. He sticks every single one of Tommy's school reports onto the fridge, surrounded by magnets, even when the grades aren't actually all that great, and helps him with his homework even when it takes Tommy a bit too long to understand some of the stuff, despite him being exhausted from work. 

Tommy can tell that Wilbur is working incredibly hard to prove that he can do this, that he can raise Tommy alone, he doesn't need help. His brother has always been stubborn, but now he's skinnier than he was back when they lived with their dad, and he'd been slim back then too. His eyebags grow darker and his smiles don't always reach his eyes, but he still pretends, for Tommy. 

In return, for the sake of Wilbur's dignity, Tommy pretends he doesn't notice.

Every Friday, after Wilbur picks Tommy up from school, they go out for ice cream to celebrate the weekend. It's also a silent apology, because Wilbur still works on the weekends, so he can't be around all day. Tommy knows he's trying his best, though, so he just smiles and doesn't complain.

Things are okay for a little over two years.

Tommy has never been happier in his life. He recently turned nine, and didn't even care that he had no friends at school to celebrate his birthday with. Wilbur splurges on a nice meal when they go out for dinner, and Tommy pretends not to notice as he orders the cheapest thing on the menu for himself.

Wilbur bakes him a cake, and it's burnt on one side and not entirely cooked on the other, but that's the oven's fault, not Wilbur's, so he eats it just the same. Phil sends presents through the mail, and Techno drops by to hand Tommy his gifts in person. He doesn't visit as much anymore, which makes Tommy sad, but he knows Wilbur's very clingy and protective, not to mention stubborn as fuck, so he assumes that Wilbur told him to back off and stop trying to help.

Tommy is nine when he gets scared of Wilbur for a second time.

He gets up for school and sees Wilbur asleep on the sofa, which he pays no mind to.

He assumes he was too tired when he came in last night and decided to sleep on the sofa simply because it was closer. Tommy drags a blanket over him and then walks to school as usual and completely forgets about the entire thing until the school bell rings at four. 

There's no message from Wilbur saying he's being picked up, so he brushes it off as Wilbur having to work late and starts to walk home. He gets through the front door at quarter past four, and sees Wilbur is in the exact same spot, laying on his side on the sofa in his pyjamas, now wrapped in a blanket.

Tommy frowns, heading over to shake him awake, "Wil?" he whispers.

Usually, Wilbur heads out to work at his second job at midday, and returns at four. He wouldn't have had time to drive home from work, put on his pyjamas, and get back onto the sofa all before Tommy got through the door. And even then, he wouldn't just not pick Tommy up from school for no reason.

Wilbur isn't asleep, he can tell that when he opens his eyes groggily, visibly exhausted, but not freshly awoken. "Fuck off, Tommy, I'm not in the mood for your shit," he snaps, jerking Tommy's hand off of his shoulder and rolls over to face away from him.

Tommy's heart sinks.

Not once in his ten years of life has his big brother ever spoken to him like that. A strange, sickly feeling hovers in his chest and makes him feel like he's suffocating as he looks at Wilbur's body facing the opposite direction. He doesn't like this feeling. He's never felt it before.

"Are you okay? Did you not go to work today, Wil?" he asks gently, lowering his voice just in case Wilbur has a headache. He's not trying to pry, he's genuinely worried that his brother is ill. He's concerned.

Wilbur, though, takes it entirely the wrong way, and whirls around with those same wide, dark eyes that he'd seen all those years ago. He's sitting up now, so they're eye level, and he quickly rounds on Tommy.

He's scary.

"God, do I ever get a fucking break? I work 12 hours a day, Tommy, I'm allowed to have one fucking day off. It's not like you'd understand, you don't even appreciate how hard I work just to keep you here and not have to send you back to Phil! Just leave me alone for a while, Jesus," he shouts, standing and pushing Tommy out of the way as he storms past, not even looking back as Tommy makes a wounded noise, heading into his bedroom and slamming the door with enough force that it rattles the wall.

The framed photo of the two of them that had previously been hanging outside of Wilbur's door shakes with the violent rattle, and falls onto the hardwood, breaking into several pieces.

Tommy thinks he's going to throw up.

He's never had anyone shout at him like that, never. Wilbur's never even spoken to him in a way that's even close to that. The only time he'd seen anything similar was when he'd watched through that doorway as Wilbur had threatened Phil with CPS for no real reason other than to get him to agree to let Wilbur take Tommy out of there. His heart thunders in his chest, and he swears he can feel it in his throat. His shoulder doesn't hurt from Wilbur pushing past him, mostly because it wasn't really a shove, he just bumped their shoulders, but his heart hurts thinking about it, and Tommy thinks he would've rather had the bruise.

He blinks tears from his eyes, and moves towards Wilbur's' door, not knocking, just standing there, avoiding the glass shards of the photo frame. 

"Sorry," he whispers, just loud enough for Wilbur to hear, voice breaking embarrassingly as he retreats into his room. It's humiliating to think of the way he looked through the keyhole several times that night to check if Wilbur would be leaving for work, and didn't see his door open once. He doesn't hear Wilbur call out sick either, instead, he hears crying through the walls all night.

Wilbur apologises with teary eyes the next morning before Tommy heads off to school. He's still in bed.

Turns out, Wilbur's 'one day off' had quickly spiralled into two months of Tommy having to plead with him to get out of bed. They get stuck in an awful cycle where Wilbur is tired and grumpy and says something awful, sharp enough to make Tommy back off. Then he apologises for snapping, promising he's trying not to. He then immediately goes right back to it. It goes on and on, and it never stops hurting Tommy every time. He starts feeling a pang of nervousness whenever he first greets Wilbur in the morning, waiting with baited breath to see if it's a sad day, or a mean day. 

Tommy feels bad for looking forward to Wilbur's sad days, but they're better than the alternative.

He misses several days of school, all of which he has to call himself out sick for, all because he doesn't want to leave Wilbur's side. He struggles to carry the TV in from the living room to Wilbur's bedroom with his little lanky ten year old arms, and brings home library books that he thinks Wilbur will like that never get opened. He hasn't picked up his guitar in two months. His brother's hair starts getting knotted and messy, and most days he can't drag himself out of bed to brush his teeth.

Wilbur spends nearly all day every day in bed. His bosses from both his night job and his day job have fired him, so he's at least getting unemployment benefits for now, which Tommy uses to walk down to the local shop and do their weekly grocery shopping, struggling to carry back all the bags alone. Tommy quickly learns to cook, only out of pure necessity. When Wilbur manages to get out of bed and into the shower, Tommy cleans his room for him, washes his sheets, empties the bin, opens a window, and he's only ten, but he can see how much his big brother appreciates it.

Wilbur still has his nice moments, they're just rarer now, and Tommy is nothing if not persistent, so he manages to get through to him eventually.

"I brought you some water," Tommy walks into the room, a glass in his hands, voice gentle.

He doesn't know if this is a mean day or not, because on his sad days, he would be miserable but gentle. Tommy would sit with him while he cried, and Wilbur would maybe manage a soft smile or two. On his mean days, Tommy is terrified of his brother.

He lifts his other hand, holding a tub of ice cream with a spoon balanced on top of it.  "And some ice cream. It's Friday."

Wilbur half sits up against the pillows, still in the same pyjamas he wore yesterday, and the day before that. He smiles sadly at Tommy, muttering, "Thank you, Toms," before lifting his arm in invitation.

He's still in his school uniform, and he hasn't even been home for ten minutes, but he sets down the glass and the ice cream on the nightstand, moving wrappers and water bottles to make space before he kicks off his school shoes to lay on the bed, curled up against Wilbur's side. His brother's arm is around his shoulders, and Tommy can't ever remember why he was scared of him.

"I'm sorry I'm… like this," Wilbur says quietly.

Tommy doesn't reply for a long moment. At school, he had spent all of his lunch and break in the library, reading up on the child friendly health books they owned. He was worried his big brother was sick, thought it could be some disease or cancer or a physical problem keeping him from leaving his bed. After forty minutes of freaking himself out and convincing himself that Wilbur was going to drop dead from some unknown mystery illness, he stumbled across a book about mental health, and had read through every single book that they had on it in the entire library.

Things start making sense to him. 

"It's not your fault," he settles on after searching for the right words. Wilbur looks at him curiously, prompting him to continue. "You're sick, Wil. In your brain. I'm worried about you," Tommy blurts, then winces at the bluntness of it. He doesn't know if Wilbur's going to get upset at that, though, so he waits with his breath held in nervousness. 

He's silent before he mutters quietly, "It's just a headache," he says, but it's half-hearted and disbelieving to the both of them.

Tommy stares back at him, unconvinced and stubborn.

Wilbur meets his eyes and immediately softens, sighing. He looks exhausted, eyes sunken in and tired, and it only looks worse when he frowns. "I know," he admits gently. "I'm sorry."

"You need help," Tommy tells him insistently. The books he'd read told him just how serious this could be. He's terrified out of his mind that he's going to lose his big brother, so he forces out the words, "You need to get help, now, or I'm going to call Phil." 

It sounds like a threat.

He sounds like Wilbur, he realises with a sick feeling in his stomach. 

Wilbur's face flashes with several different emotions. He settles on a numb look, expression mostly blank, nothing more than hollow eyes and a slight frown. "Okay," he relents.

In the morning, Tommy reminds him to call the doctors, and sits waiting with folded arms and a glare until Wilbur reaches over for the phone. 

He has an appointment booked for the start of next week. 

When it comes around, Tommy quite literally drags Wilbur out of bed by his wrist, goes through his dressers to find clean clothes and sends him off to change into them. He helps Wil brush some of the worst knots out of his hair, and brush his teeth before he leaves, mostly just because Wil was embarrassed to go out as he was. 

They walk to the doctors together, even as Wilbur insists Tommy can stay home, because he's not coming into the appointment with him unless the doctor calls him in. Tommy still walks him there, mostly just to make sure he actually goes.

Tommy is sat in the waiting room for twenty minutes when Wilbur calls him into the room. The doctor is looking at him with empathetic eyes, and asks him to explain his view on Wilbur's struggles. He doesn't hold anything back, he's blunt and honest.

Though he does exclude the parts about him having to learn to cook and doing the weekly shopping using Wilbur's unemployment benefits and missing school to care for his brother, mostly because he's nine, but he's not stupid. If Wilbur had taken Tommy away from Phil because of neglect, then Tommy would almost certainly be taken away from Wilbur for the same reasons. It's not lying, he just doesn't want to be separated from his brother.

Wilbur looks humiliated. The doctor looks sad.

Tommy's just glad he's getting help. 

They say it's going to be a long process, but it's only one more appointment with a psychiatrist and a blood test later that they diagnose Wilbur with depression and put him on medication. They tell him that they understand his mental health issues, but that if this happens again, and someone reports him for neglecting Tommy, there's nothing they can do to help against that. Wilbur seems to get set off again when they mention neglect, but he keeps it together until they're outside. They recommend that he sees a therapist, and they ask if he has any family to talk to about this, ones who aren't his nine year old brother who has been taking care of him for two months.

He doesn't go back there again. 

Wilbur takes his meds, and things get better. Things go back to normal.

He finds another two jobs, one night shift, one day shift, and they're slightly less hours, ten instead of twelve, which he had been recommended so he doesn't burn himself out again. Tommy doesn't know what that means, but Wilbur seems to understand it because he listens to their advice. He makes friends at his new job, goes to the work parties and brings Tommy with him. 

Their ritual of Friday after-school ice creams resume, and Tommy has never been happier.

He is barely eleven when they have to move.

Wilbur treats him like an adult, which he likes, even if the doctor said that was a bad thing. He tells Tommy honestly about how they can't afford rent anymore, that if they keep living there, they're going to have to start choosing between hot water and food, and this side of L'Manberg gets too cold to sacrifice one or the other. So they have to find somewhere new and cheaper to live.

Just on the outskirts of L'Manberg is a tiny little town called Pogtopia.

It's a horrible area, there's a reason rent is so cheap. But Wilbur makes sure to find a place close enough to the school that Tommy doesn't have to walk through the dangerous parts.

Much. 

Their new flat is impossibly smaller. There's one bedroom with water damage across the ceiling and yellowing walls from a past smoker. The bathroom is mouldy, the living room is so small that there's no space for a coffee table, and the sofa is only about two steps away from the TV. The kitchen quite literally only has a sink, one singular counter, and an oven. There's no fridge. The first thing they buy for their new place is a mini-fridge that whirs loudly all day, but it's the best they can do.

They end up having to share the double bed, though when Wilbur's working at night, he comes back and sleeps on the sofa so he doesn't wake Tommy up too early.

He apologises for how cramped it is, says he knows Tommy needs his own space but they can't afford that right now. Tommy just grins back and says it's like back when they were younger, at Phil's, when they shared a bedroom back then.

They made the best of it then, they can do it now.

Things definitely are cramped, though, even if he's lying to be polite. Tommy does his homework on the living room floor most days, there's no coffee table, and the bedroom has no desk. 

Wilbur regularly apologises for how tiny it is, it's a constant thing, now, weekly, at least. Tommy can see that the guilt is eating him alive, so he just beams and promises he doesn't mind.

He does, but his brother doesn't have to know that.

Wilbur goes back to twelve hour days, and then picks up smoking. He doesn't apologise for that one, though, even though Tommy complains that it stinks. 

Tommy is eleven when things go to shit again.

It's worse than before. Back then, Wilbur was sad. He could be moody, snappy sometimes, and yeah, it sucked when he would shout at Tommy, and it was a little scary but that was rare. Mostly, Tommy was scared for him then. 

Now, he's just scared of him. 

Wilbur goes completely off the rails. Half of the time, he can't get out of his bed, miserable like he was back then.  The other half of the time is much worse, he gets angry, slams doors, breaks things, mutters to himself. He's terrifying when he's like that, eyes wild and hands clenched into fists. 

Tommy's one solace is that Wilbur won't hurt him, he knows that for certain. 

That doesn't make him any less scary, though. One time, he hears Wilbur washing up the dishes in the sink, and he hears a plate slip out of his hand and shatter against the tiled floor. It's silent for a moment, and Tommy holds his breath, and then he hears Wilbur yelling. There's the harsh, abrasive sound of ceramic shattering, crashing and his brother's shouted swearing for long enough that Tommy abandons his reading and sits with his hands over his ears.  Still, though, Wilbur leaves for work at the usual time.

When he slips out of his room late that night to make himself dinner, he sees the mess.

Every single plate and bowl and glass that they owned has been thrown from their now-empty cupboards with the doors half hanging off the hinges, laying in pieces across the floor. There's bits of glass and ceramic all scattered across the ground, and the drying rack that had been sitting next to the sink is now in two pieces on opposite sides of the room. 

Tommy silently sweeps up, and digs out a paper plate from the stack he found at the back of one of the drawers.

It's not long until Wilbur is no longer destructive just to things around him, but he starts making jokes that make Tommy's skin crawl uncomfortably. He picks Tommy up from school one day, and in the middle of a pretty pleasant, albeit a bit tense, conversation about his most recent music class, Wilbur blurts out with a laugh, "It would be so easy for me to crash the car right now."

He doesn't say anything for the rest of the car ride.

It's not the only joke he makes like that, though. They become something that happens consistently, nearly daily. They stop sounding like jokes very quickly. 

He asks Tommy once what it would feel like to explode. Tommy thinks he's joking, asks him how he's going to get his hands on explosives in the first place. Wilbur is deadly serious when he replies and says that bombs can be homemade and work just as well. He chuckles afterwards at Tommy's wide-eyed stare, telling him that it's only a hypothetical, stop being so dramatic.

One day, Wilbur tells him that if Tommy ever comes back from school and there's a note stuck to the front door, don't even go in. Just sit outside and call the police, because Wilbur probably killed himself and he doesn't want Tommy to see that. He laughs like it's funny, but Tommy has nightmares about that for months. 

It lasts longer than the last one did. 

Last time, Wilbur agreed to get help after two months.

Now, it's three months in, and he's not slowing down. In fact, he's slowly getting worse. He stops refilling his meds, then stops taking them at all. He's smoking more now, and the entire flat stinks of it. One of Tommy's teachers even asks if he's started smoking because his clothes reek of the stench of smoke.

One day, while Tommy is sitting in the living room, he hears a phone ringing. Wilbur pauses the TV and answers, and while Tommy tries not to listen in to his conversation, it's hard not to with the way Wilbur's shouting.

From what he gathers, it's one of Phil's monthly calls to check in on them. For the last few, he's caught Wilbur on good days, or he's managed to hold it together on the phone.

This time, though, Wilbur completely goes off on him, starts telling him to never call again, that he's a dick, a shit father, and a complete fucking failure. He tells him that he's not welcome to ever visit them, or to even call to check in again. Wilbur says he never wants to hear his voice again, and hangs up, muttering under his breath as he blocks his number.

Tommy doesn't turn around, doesn't even visibly react, just continues doing his English homework and hopes Wilbur doesn't turn on him next.

It's only five more minutes later that his phone rings again.

It's Technoblade this time, Tommy instantly recognises the familiar, low voice on the phone more than he recognised Phil's. Wilbur does the same, screams at him, tells him to stop overstepping and sticking his nose where it doesn't belong, tells him he's only a family friend, he doesn't need to be getting involved. He says he doesn't want either of them to ever reach out again, and then hangs up. Tommy assumes he blocks Techno too.

He glances over his shoulder at Wilbur, mostly just to gauge how angry he is to see if he should leave the room or not, but Wilbur catches his eye and snaps furiously, " What?"

Tommy doesn't reply.

He waits for it to be like last time, for Wilbur to get so exhausted and broken down that he relents and gets help again. In those last few days before he saw the doctor, he spent all day in bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, completely fucking miserable. Now, though, he's just angry. 

He's scary. 

Tommy loves his big brother, the one who takes him out for ice cream on Friday's after school, the one who took him out his neglectful father's house and raised him all alone at eighteen, the one who worked two jobs to make sure Tommy was fed and clothed and had a roof over his head. When Tommy would come home in tears from school bullies, he would gently wipe his tears away and tell him not to pay any attention to those little dickheads. Wilbur is probably his best friend, and he doesn't even care about how sad it is that his best and only friend is his brother, he loves him. 

He's just also scared of him now. He doesn't feel comfortable pushing him to get help like he did last time.

He does try.

There are multiple times when Wilbur mentions killing himself and Tommy breaks down crying hysterically in front of him, choking on his breath with snot running down his face and literally begging him not to. He writes down the number of the doctor he saw last time and leaves it by Wilbur's side of the bed as a silent reminder. Wilbur tells him to stop being so dramatic, that he's just joking, of course he's not serious, he wouldn't leave Tommy all alone like that, but then he keeps saying it, and it's not long before Tommy can see right through that lie.

He pleads with his brother to stop, he doesn't even care about embarrassing himself now, he just wants Wilbur to be okay.

There's only one time that he really pushes it, and tells Wilbur that if he doesn't call the doctor again, Tommy's going to call their dad and get him to come over and help, because he doesn't know what else to do. He's eleven and scared. He gets absolutely fucking terrifying then, looming over him with those cold dark eyes, and tells him that Wilbur will kill himself before Phil picks up the phone, if Phil even picks up the phone.

Tommy doesn't push him as much after that.

He doesn't know what else to do. 

Before, his brother was just sad, extremely sad, sure, but he had just been depressed and tired. When he got snappy, it was never anything that Tommy couldn't immediately forgive, it was easy to handle his bad days, because he would just lay in bed and Tommy could avoid him. 

Now, though, he's been in this weird state of unhappiness and rage. Tommy's scared for him, he doesn't want anything to happen to his brother, as awful as he can be sometimes. 

He's worn down and exhausted and perpetually living in fear, so obviously he's failing basically all of his classes, and now Wilbur is angry at him, again.

It's January, so the weather is miserable, which really doesn't help. They go to a Parents evening event where they need to discuss Tommy's grades, and while it's really only supposed to be Wilbur, Tommy goes with him because he needs to hear what they're saying to judge how upset Wilbur will be after. His science teacher tells him that if he doesn't pick his grade up very, very quickly, he's going to have to repeat the year. His maths teacher had emphasised how disappointed she was, talking about how it was a real shame that his potential was wasted, because he'd been getting some of the highest grades in the class at the start of the year, and that it's a sad sight to see him failing. That somehow hurts more than the others. 

His geography teacher had suggested just trying harder, scolding Tommy specifically and telling him that this wasn't how the real world worked. The only teacher that Tommy liked was his music teacher, who had addressed him specifically and gently suggested maybe seeing the school counsellor as he'd suggested that maybe focusing was his problem, and perhaps there was a deeper reason for that. 

That had been when Wilbur grabbed Tommy by the wrist, dragged him up out of the chair and stormed out of there.

Tommy was alarmed to say the least.

"Wil, you're hurting me,"  he whines in confusion. Wilbur doesn't let go of his wrist immediately so he yanks it away, frowning and rubbing the red mark around it. His brother stares at him with dark eyes for uncomfortably long before he rounds the car and climbs into the driver's seat, slamming the door a little too hard. 

He was shaking as he climbed into the backseat, intentionally choosing somewhere that was out of arms reach. He never thought Wilbur would hurt him, and now he's not so sure. 

Bringing his knees up to his chest, he stares out of the window as the car starts and pulls away from the school, watching silently as the surroundings blur and trying to block out his brother as Wilbur starts talking, mostly to himself because he's making a conscious effort to not listen to any of his crazed ramblings anymore, he knows most of what his brother says off by heart now. 

"What do they know, huh? Telling you to go see the counsellor, the fucking audacity," he scoffs, and when Tommy glances over, his knuckles are white as he grips the steering wheel.

It's winter, so it's already dark, and there's rain spitting on the windows, so he focuses on tracing the droplets with his gaze instead of listening to Wilbur's mutterings.

"You know, they're suggesting that something's wrong with you. They think you're fucked in the head. How fucking dare they ask that? Who do they think they are? Those people don't know you, Tommy, they just think they do. They just think that because I'm fucked in the head, don't they?"

Tommy silently thinks that it's a good sign that he's at least admitting that he's gone fucking crazy. He doesn't even think his school knows about Wilbur's state, though, so he doesn't know how that would be possible, but he agrees nonetheless.

"They're full of shit. They're pricks, fuck them, Tommy, there's nothing wrong with you. I'm the only one who thinks that, apparently. Your teachers, they all think you're stupid. They hate you, you heard them. Phil's the same. He didn't want you either, they're all the same," Wilbur's no longer muttering to himself, he's speaking loud enough that Tommy can't block him out at all anymore. His hands are trembling as they reach over and turn on the windscreen wipers because the rain's getting heavier now too.

He watches the rain trickle down the window and bites back a response. He wants Wilbur to pull over. He wants to walk home.

He wants Phil. He wants his dad.

He's petrified.

"What the fuck did you just say?" Wilbur snaps, and he's even louder now, more sure, and oh shit, Tommy said that out loud, didn't he? 

Fuck, he's really messed up. He knows better than to upset Wilbur when he gets like this, and he still said it anyway. His heart thunders against his ribcage as he opens his mouth to reply, breath quivering, words getting choked in his throat as his eyes burn, "I didn't-"

"Phil is not your father. He doesn't care about you! Why do you think he passed you off to me the second he could? He didn't raise you, he didn't even try! I raised you, I did that! You have my last name, you live with me, I'm your guardian, not him! He didn't even fucking want you! No one wants you, Tommy. No one but me." 

Tommy's trying not to cry, because if he does, there's only two routes it can go.

Either he angers Wilbur more, and he's just going to shout more and call him dramatic and tell him to stop acting like a child, or he's going to make Wilbur feel guilty, and he doesn't want to upset his brother. Neither are great options, though.

Still, as hard as he's trying to hold it back, his lower lip trembles as he tries to catch it between his teeth, forcing his face to remain still.

"Everyone's the same, Toms, they all think something's wrong with you. None of them care, not like I do. I'm the only one who really cares about you. No one loves you like I do," Wilbur isn't really shouting yet, but he's getting uncomfortably loud. Tommy squeezes his eyes shut, hiccupping in little shaky breaths and trying to ignore everything his big brother is saying. "Everyone else is fucked up. They don't care about you, they don't want you. They're all the same. We don't need anyone else, we only need each other. We only need each other. "

He can't get his voice to work. He opens his mouth and makes a wounded noise.

"Say it, Tommy, say it," Wilbur encourages hysterically, and, fuck, he really is shouting now. "We only need each other," he prompts again, voice fierce and hysterical.

Tommy is terrified, but he manages to croak out, "we only need each other," softly, his voice breaking off at the end as the first tear slips out from his squeezed shut eyes. Once it starts, he can't stop, and he looks back out the window as he bites his lip to stop him making any noise, hoping Wil doesn't notice.

The rain is completely pouring now, practically storming, he can see it bouncing off the window in heavy droplets. It thunders against the roof of the car, and he can hear the wind whistling. Still, he wants to get out.

He would walk home if Wilbur would let him. 

Wilbur glances up, takes his eyes off the road and meets Tommy's gaze in the mirror.

Tommy recognises the second that Wilbur sees the tears streaming down his face, because his furious expression falters into something that he's never seen before. He softens, but he still looks devastated. "Oh, Toms," he whispers gently, "I'm sorry," his voice sounds crushed, and, for a moment, Tommy thinks it's going to be okay.

He's going to pull over, calm down, probably smoke a cigarette, maybe give him a hug like old times, then take him out for ice cream to apologise. 

He can breathe a little better now in the quiet of the car, swallowing thickly and watching the houses out the window as he waits for Wilbur to find somewhere to pull over so they can fix this.

It takes him a moment to realise that his surroundings aren't slowing down, instead, the houses are passing by quicker now, and when Tommy scrubs his face with his sleeve and leans over to see what Wilbur's doing, he has both hands tightly gripping the wheel, face determined, and, most terrifying of all, his foot is on the accelerator, pressing it all the way to the floor.

They're speeding now, for sure, and it's a miracle there are no other cars on the road, because Wilbur would cause a crash for sure.

It takes him even longer to register that, oh shit, Wilbur could cause a crash.

"Wilbur!" he shouts, but they're only going faster still. "Wil, please, stop it, you're scaring me," he begs, and he's sobbing now. The only thought in his mind is to stop his big brother from hurting himself, so he instinctively reaches down and unlatches his seatbelt, throwing himself over towards the drivers seat so he can grab Wilbur's shoulder in a desperate, panicked attempt at stopping him.

It's dark, and heavily raining, so Tommy can't even see anything out the windshield really, but the street lamps are faintly illuminating what seems to be a tree at the end of the road.

His heart stops.

Wilbur lurches the steering wheel off the road, now driving over the pavement, directly for the tree.

The car jolts, shaking with the effort of driving over concrete and pavement and grass. They ram into a mailbox, the car lurching, and Tommy thinks he screams, but Wilbur just carries on driving. The vehicle trembles as it drives over what seemed to be a series of flower boxes.

He's hyperventilating now, hands clawing at his brothers shoulders, "Wil, please, don't do this," he pleads, hiccupping and sobbing, but Wilbur's foot is on the accelerator. He's unsteady as the car jumps around, running over mailboxes and garden decorations and pavement, steering drifting as they go between the road and the pavement, the only stability he has is his desperate grip on his brothers shoulders, "Wilby, please, please, stop," he cries.

Wilbur doesn't even show any signs that he's listening, doesn't react to Tommy's hands on his shoulders, stares with a furrowed brow at the road ahead, at the tree ahead, and Tommy knows what he has to do, but that doesn't mean he has to like it.

It's a split second decision.

The tree is maybe only a couple of feet away now. Tommy has no seatbelt on. There won't be time to sit back down and put it on, and even if he did, there are no airbags in the back. Wilbur's speeding towards the tree. Tommy thinks he has a cut on his head from being thrown around in the car without his seatbelt, he feels a wetness dripping down the side of his face, tastes the blood in his mouth. They're driving over the pavement, so the only thing to the left of the car is the patches of grass and flowers in front of the houses. 

He tightens his grip on Wilbur's shoulders in one final attempt. The car is unsteady and bumpy as he drives, and he shows no sign of stopping.

The tree is only a meter away at most when Tommy decides he can't do this, he can't stay in the car. 

Tommy holds his breath, wrenches open the car door, and throws himself out.

There's a split second where everything freezes and he feels himself falling, feels the rain start soaking through his clothes, and he can't breathe, can't think, he just tries to brace for the impact as best as he can.

In all honesty, he does pretty well. They were going fast enough that it was going to hurt either way, but he manages to scramble and bring his forearms up in front of his face, and he tries to bring his knees in too, but that's when he collides with the ground. Even though it's grass, his first thought is that holy shit, everything hurts, oh fuck, he just did that.

He lays there, so in shock that he just threw himself out of a moving car that he just blinks for a moment. He's sprawled across the grass, on his side, facing away from the road, breathing stuttering, and all he can think about is the shooting pain in his left knee. It's agonising, but he quickly forgets it when he remembers that he hurt it throwing himself out of a car. The same fucking car that his brother had been rapidly driving towards a tree only maybe a second or two ago. 

Tommy turns around just in time to witness the impact.

He doesn't really register what he's seeing, everything from there goes blurry, but he can still hear it.

He hears the sickening crunch of metal, the thud, the creaking of the tree that Wilbur's car is now practically wrapped around. The worst part, though, is the silence. 

He doesn't hear Wilbur calling for help.

Tommy manages to drag himself up off the floor, and calls emergency services. He stands in shock next to the car, staring blankly at Wilbur, because there's nothing he can do, firefighters and paramedics work together to cut Wilbur out of the car and carry him onto a stretcher. They're all shouting at each other, and moving quickly, while Tommy manages to slowly, dazedly, follow behind. They take Wilbur into the ambulance, and he doesn't even realise what's happening until one of the paramedics ushers Tommy into it too.

He doesn't even register that he keeps reaching for Wilbur until his hands are batted away. He hears one of the paramedics documenting Wilbur's injuries, while another performs CPR. They clip a heart rate monitor onto his finger, and Tommy isn't even relieved by the slow, unsteady beeping, because he can hear what they're saying. Low chance of survival, they say. Possible amputation, the car crushed him upon impact. There's metal impaling Wilbur's body. They mention that the airbag seems to have broken his ribs. They don't even do a double take on the bleeding wound on Tommy's face.

Tommy ends up closing his eyes and sobbing, because he can't look at it anymore. The paramedics are too busy to calm him.

When they arrive at the hospital, there's a flurry of activity and panic as Wilbur is wheeled away. Tommy thinks he hears one of the emergency room doctors mention something about dissociating as someone guides him into a chair. A nurse stitches up his injury, asks how he got it, asks if he was in the crash. Tommy can't respond. He remembers looking up and seeing Phil in the door to the emergency room, and wondering distantly who called him while he doesn't even register the distraught look on his dad's face as he sees him sitting there, a gash on his cheek hastily stitched up, an officer at his side because he'd been fighting to get to Wilbur, apparently. 

He doesn't remember that.

According to the what the officer told Phil, he'd been screaming and sobbing hysterically as he fought every poor receptionist and emergency room doctor and nurse who told him that Wilbur was in surgery, he couldn't see him. 

Tommy forgets to tell them that he was in the car too. His face isn't injured, aside from the one cut, so it isn't visible. All of the cuts and scrapes from throwing himself out of it were across his hands are forearms, which is masked by Wilbur's blood smeared across his hands and his sleeves. He tells them he was the one to call the ambulance, and his version of events isn't entirely a lie, but it isn't true either. Phil asks him what happened, so the officer repeats what Tommy had told the doctors.

Tommy's story is only half truth. They were on the way back from parents evening. Wilbur was upset about his grades and was distracted; they argued, he told him to pull over and get out of the car to walk home instead. He says it was only a couple of minutes later that he heard the crash, so he went running towards the noise and found Wilbur at the end of the road, car wrapped around a tree. His injury was from cutting himself on the jagged edges of the broken car when he tried to get Wilbur out.

He says Wilbur wasn't suicidal, that it was just raining and he was distracted and probably thinking about Tommy walking home alone in the rain in the dodgy area of Pogtopia at night, so he wasn't paying attention.

They mark it down as an accident.

He can't admit out loud that Wilbur had tried to kill himself, because if he does that, he has to admit that Wilbur tried to kill him too.

"We only need each other," Wilbur had said in that furious voice. It rings in his ears. Everytime he closes his eyes, he sees that second where Wilbur meets his eyes in the mirror, sees him soften, the remorse on his face as he whispers, "Oh, Toms, I'm sorry."  

Tommy can't stop thinking about it. It's so all-consuming that he doesn't even register that his dad is sat next to him, holding his blood stained hand.

They don't question Tommy's story about not being in the car. It's believable enough, he has no reason to lie, and Phil is at his side, glaring at everyone approaching with a clipboard, so they don't ask him any more questions after that. He distantly remembers when they took Wil into surgery, one of the surgeons wheeling Wilbur away told Phil that it would probably be a couple of hours minimum. Even though it was emergency surgery, there was a lot of injuries to take care of. He remembers hearing them say to be prepared for the worst.

He knows exactly what's happened even before they say it.

The same surgeon, only ten minutes later, walks over to them with a solemn expression. She doesn't even cross half of the waiting room before Tommy realises that Wilbur is gone, his big brother is gone, and things go completely blank from there.

Later, Phil tells him that he started screaming. He had done what he did before, fighting to see Wilbur, sobbing that they were all lying to him, because Wilbur had been alive only an hour ago, and he promised to make dinner when they got home. The officer had threatened to restrain Tommy again, because they couldn't calm him down and he was wrestling out of the grip of everyone who tried to stop him.

They let them see Wilbur to say goodbye, even put him in a hospital bed for courtesy. Tommy doesn't remember that part either, but apparently he threw up, and had to be escorted outside. They told Phil to take Tommy home, because it was an unofficial agreement, Wilbur wasn't his legal guardian, Phil still was. 

He doesn't remember any details when he saw Wilbur's body, but he does remember his chest being still and his eyes closed. He recalls them saying that Wilbur had slim to none chance of survival, no matter how hard they tried. The people who had been on scene, both firefighters and paramedics and officers, tell Phil that the car had to be scrapped because there was so little left that wasn't ruined. They say the backseats were completely crushed with the way the car skidded out of control. The impact had been directly into the drivers side, but it sent the car skidding, and it had been crushed between several surrounding, smaller trees. 

Tommy tries not to think about what would've happened if he didn't throw himself out of the car.

There's a weird sort of in between of Wilbur's crash and what happens next.

Tommy goes back to his old childhood home in L'Manberg. He doesn't remember being driven home from the hospital, but Phil tells him that he had to be sedated in the hospital because he'd screamed and kicked and fought so much that the officers thought he was a potential threat to other people and himself.

He's actually quite glad for that. 

He goes back to his and Wilbur's shared bedroom, with one side empty, and sleeps in Wilbur's bed that is far too big for him. The gash on his cheek starts scabbing over. He gets unenrolled from his old school in Pogtopia.

Technoblade visits, hugs Tommy and tells him how sorry he is, that he'll help however he can. He comes over pretty regularly just to make sure they're both okay. Tommy can't even bring himself to say anything. He doesn't leave the house, he spends most of his days in his childhood bedroom. Phil and Techno leave one day to collect Wilbur's old belongings from their flat in Pogtopia. Tommy snatches one of Wilbur's hoodies they brought back, and doesn't take it off for days.

Tommy knew Wilbur wanted to kill himself, and in a morbid sort of way, he didn't think there was anything he could do about that.

He was living in perpetual fear that one day, he'd come home from school and Wilbur would be hanging in the living room, or that Wilbur would leave for work and then wash up in a river somewhere. He'd done everything he could to prevent it, locked away sharp objects, supervised Wilbur while he shaved, kept his antidepressants in his room to make sure he didn't take too much before he stopped taking them at all. He just never thought that Wilbur would try and take him with him.

The backseats were crushed. Wilbur could've killed him.

Wilbur wanted to kill him.

When Wilbur dies, Tommy doesn't even realise for nearly two weeks that he doesn't know who he's going to live with now. The one thing he knows is that he wants to be nowhere near Phil. Wilbur was right, he was a shit dad, wasn't even really a dad at all, and maybe if he'd been there, they wouldn't have to be burying him. All he can think about is that this is Phil's fault, Phil killed him.

When he left home at seven to move in with Wilbur, he didn't really dislike his dad, he was just more excited at the prospect of living with his big brother. Now, though, he fucking hates Phil.

He tells Phil that he doesn't want to move back in with him.

It's the first word he's spoken in days. Phil looks hurt, but doesn't argue, so they start looking into his options. Tommy says he doesn't care where he goes, he just wants to be away from him. 

Phil is the one to make the decision in the end, and says he's going to give up custody, let Tommy move into a group home and probably end up adopted eventually. He warns Tommy that he could end up in foster care until he's eighteen and ages out of the system, there's no guarantee he'll be adopted at all. It's harsh, but it's true.

Tommy snaps back that he doesn't care, because he can't keep living in his dead brother's old room, anything is better than this, he just wants to get out however he can.

It's at Wilbur's funeral that the choice is made, officially this time.

Wilbur's co-workers are there, most he recognises from the work parties he used to go along to, though he doesn't know the names of. One approaches Phil, introduces himself to him, says his name is Dream, he was a friend of Wilbur's, they worked together for a couple of years before Dream quit his job, but they remained in close contact, and he'd been looking into adopting a child. Tommy vaguely recognises him, he's sure he met him once or twice, but he doesn't recognise his name. He should probably question it, but he doesn't.

At a glance, he looks like he could pass as Tommy's father, not much younger than Phil, mid-thirties, with blond hair and freckles. Tommy won't even look adopted, Dream jokes.

Phil is too distraught to make any real decision then, so they exchange numbers to talk things through at a later time. Dream agrees, gives him his condolences, and backs off.  

Tommy wears Wilbur's old hoodie to the funeral, doesn't care that it's blue and everyone else is wearing black, because Wil's favourite colour was blue. He would've liked it. He quickly gets sick of everyone coming up to him to give him their condolences. He doesn't care, doesn't give a shit.

Their condolences won't bring back his dead fucking brother. 

He hates the funeral.

It's a closed casket, a room filled with sobbing people who didn't know Wilbur as well as Tommy did, and everyone giving speeches that are mostly bullshit. Phil gives a speech about how he was such a kind, gentle person who could never hurt a fly, who dedicated his entire life to looking after his little brother. Tommy, very politely, doesn't mention that Wilbur tried to kill him.

He's invited to do a speech and quickly shoots down that idea. He loved Wilbur, loves Wilbur still, but his memory of him is tainted by those final few awful months, and the crash that nearly took Tommy with him.

Everyone is talking about how tragic the accident was, and half of it seems like they really are upset about Wilbur passing so young in such an awful way, only twenty two, but the other half just sounds like gossip, and it's really testing Tommy's self control not to blurt out that the rain had nothing to do with the crash, neither did Wilbur being 'distracted' or losing control of the car, that in reality, he drove himself straight into a tree because he wanted to kill himself and take his brother with him. 

This could've been Tommy's funeral too if he hadn't thrown himself out of the car. He wonders what they would've said then, if it still would've been a 'tragic accident' or if they would've blamed Wilbur.

Technoblade's at the funeral, he's one of the very few who seem genuinely hurt by Wilbur's death. He'd been babysitting Wil since he was eleven, even though he'd only been a slightly older teenager himself at the time, watched him grow up, and now had to bury him. Tommy doesn't hate Techno as much as he hates Phil. He remembers that phone call, one week before the crash, where Wilbur had blocked the two of them and told them that he never wanted to hear from them again. Those were the last things he ever said to Techno and Phil. Tommy feels bad for Techno, but simultaneously wishes he pushed it more, wishes he kept going and argued back, because maybe he could've helped.

He stands at Tommy's side during the funeral, and he looks devastated. He wears a blue tie in Wilbur's honour, and when Tommy sees it he cries harder, because he's the only other one in the crowd wearing blue. He cries when they lower the coffin, and Tommy can't even be angry at him right now because he's known Techno since he was born. He saw Tommy grow up, but he also saw Wilbur grow up too. Wilbur was barely twenty, sure, but Techno wasn't even in his thirties yet. 

They don't have a wake, because Phil can't handle it, so everyone goes home straight after. Tommy locks himself in his half empty childhood bedroom, wearing Wilbur's hoodie, and cries himself to sleep in Wilbur's old bed. 

There's a couple of days after the funeral is over where neither Tommy or Phil leave the house.

A week after, though, Phil goes to meet with Dream for the first time, and Tommy doesn't know what they talked about, but when Phil comes back, he tells him that they're going to start the process of Dream adopting him, and asks if he's completely sure.

Tommy can't think straight, too exhausted and worn down to spend ages finding other possibilities, so he just goes along with it. He wonders if this was how Wilbur felt when he spent all those days in his bed. All he's certain of is that he doesn't want to spend the next seven-ish years living with Phil, because Phil failed Wilbur, and he blames him for Wilbur trying to kill them both, because if he doesn't, he'll start blaming himself, or, worse, start blaming Wilbur, and he can't do that. 

Phil meets with Dream several more times, says he seems like a good man, and verifies his story that he really had been applying to be a foster parent because he wanted to adopt a kid. He gets all the legal stuff ready, has Dream's house officially home-checked and gets the background check done, both of which he passes with ease. 

Dream suggests going straight into adoption instead of him just fostering Tommy, because there were no plans for Tommy to go elsewhere. They discuss it for a while, and Dream sways it in the end by saying that if it makes him feel any better, Phil can call as much as he wants, and visit whenever. Phil agrees without any argument, and when he comes back home, he tells Tommy that everything's done now. Tommy doesn't even care anymore.

A little less than one month after Wilbur's crash, Tommy is officially adopted by Dream.

The court case goes incredibly quick. Phil explains that Wilbur had died, and he can't care for Tommy, and Dream had graciously stepped up. They approve the adoption almost immediately.

As a little kid, Tommy had always been told that Phil was the worst person in the world. Wilbur told him about him being abusive and neglectful and quite literally as bad as a father could get. Tommy had believed him, because why would his big brother have any reason to lie?

Then Tommy had lived with Wilbur for four years, and, yeah, Wil wasn't his father, but Tommy soon realised just how much worse a guardian could be. But he still loved Wilbur, despite it all, because that was his big brother. He still took him out for ice cream on Fridays and helped him with his homework and played his favourite movie without complaint even though he'd seen it a million times. Sure, he kind of lost it sometimes, but his good moments outweighed the bad, and Tommy couldn't blame him, it wasn't his fault that his brain was a bit fucked. Wilbur still loved him, and did the best he could.

Aside from the time that he tried to crash the car and murder him, leaving him to throw himself out of a moving car to prevent his own death, but Tommy was really trying not to think about that.

He quickly learnt that Dream was much worse.

Dream lived in the Essempi, a large city far enough from L'Manberg that they got a train instead of driving, which Tommy was incredibly relieved about. His house wasn't massive, but it was pretty nice, with a white picket fence and a massive garden.

His new bedroom was warm and inviting. The walls were painted a dark red, Tommy's favourite colour, and he'd decorated it nicely, with a brand new computer and a new phone on his desk, stacks of notebooks and pens and stationary all prepared, photo frames resting on the floor ready for Tommy to put whatever he wanted in them, fairy lights strung up across the room. One of his windows overlooked the street outside, and the view was much better than what he had out of his bedroom window in Pogtopia, which looked out onto some graffiti on a brick wall. 

It was miles better than anything he'd ever had with Phil or Wilbur.

Tommy thought things were looking up. Dream seemed nice, with his freckled, wide smile, and his warm eyes, and he offered to buy takeout for Tommy's first night there. He even gave Tommy the choice of where to order from, and didn't take it personally when Tommy said he wasn't hungry.

He thought Phil was bad, then thought Wilbur was awful, though he didn't blame him for that. 

Dream, though, was worse, much worse.

Chapter Text

Wilbur dies in late January.

By the start of March, Tommy is moving in with Dream.

Tommy thinks he likes Dream, but he's not Wilbur. He's nice enough, asks Tommy what he wants for dinner, buys him decorations for his new bedroom, doesn't cook anything he doesn't like, and he even adds a Netflix profile for him, which had been oddly touching. He works as an architect, so the pay is pretty good, and the hours aren't nearly as long as Phil's or Wilbur's so he's around more.

The first week is more awkward than anything else.

He's met Dream a couple of times, vaguely recognises him from some of Wilbur's work events, and he'd gone along to some of his and Phil's coffee meetings while the adoption process had still be pending. Despite all of that, he isn't family, he doesn't know Dream, they're not even remotely close.

So that first week after the adoption is more of a haze where Tommy had struggled to adapt to living with a stranger, nothing to do with Dream in particular, its more so a difficulty to learn what the rules are, considering they seem to be mostly unspoken. Dream is pretty lenient, gives him a curfew in case he chooses to go out, he can help himself in the kitchen if he's hungry, he's welcome to watch whatever he wants as long as it's not super loud, but aside from those, the rest of his rules are silent.

Tommy's just kind of expected to know them.

He figures this out completely by accident when he had been exploring the house in the first few days and, in the midst of realising it's a deceptively large house, he stumbles across Dream's office. It's filled to the brim with boxes of architectural drawings, calculations, things that give Tommy a headache just looking at them. Tommy doesn't touch anything, even if he's tempted to, he just looks at what's sprawled across the desk. There's nothing exciting really, a framed photo, a lamp, notebooks, and he's only in there for five minutes before the door swings open and Dream finds him.

He's gotten used to Wilbur shouting at him over the last few months, or gently telling him off in the years before that, so he waits with baited breath to see how Dream's going to react.

It's...weird.

"What made you think you were allowed in here?" Dream asks in lieu of a scolding, eyebrow raised and scrutinising him under his sharp gaze. He's been nice enough so far, and he's not really being mean, it's just intimidating.

Tommy feels small, clenching his fists and swallowing thickly, not meeting Dream's eyes as he speaks quietly, "I'm sorry, I didn't think-"

Dreams eyes are cold, his calm anger almost reminiscent of Wilbur in his final months. "No, you're right, you didn't think. What if you ruined one of my plans? What would you do then?" he asks.

This feels like a trick.

Nervously, he glances between the desk and then back at Dream, fidgeting with his hands at his sides. This feels like a trap, like there's a right answer to his question that he's expecting, but Tommy doesn't know what it is, and that almost scares him more.

"Apologise?" he tries.

He laughs at that, a bitter, unamused laugh that sends a chill down Tommy's spine.

Then, as if nothing had happened, Dream smiles after, sincere this time, the same warm smile he'd given Tommy on his first day moving in, and asks, "did Wilbur teach you that one? Apologies don't fix everything, Tommy. Come on, get out of here. You're not allowed in my office, alright? I didn't think I'd have to say that, but clearly I do."

The overall interaction couldn't have been more than a minute or two, and Dream had patted him on the back as Tommy walked back out of the office, and he seemed perfectly fine for the rest of the day, but the quick switch from his sharp, intimidating stare to his warm laugh still unnerved him. It was like a switch had gone off, and it left Tommy's head reeling, not to mention Dream bringing up Wilbur. He's sure he didn't mean it cruelly, he seems far too nice for that, and they'd been friends through work for a little while, but he doesn't like how Wilbur was mentioned to, what, make a dig at the way his brother raised him?

Tommy doesn't know, but he knows he doesn't like it.

It's at the end of that first week that Dream's phone rings for the first time. Tommy's sitting alone at the table, eating his breakfast in silence, dragging the spoon around in the cereal as he listens to Dream answer the phone in the kitchen.

He listens through the thin walls as they talk about him, entirely guessing Phil's responses based on what Dream says. He tells Phil that Tommy seems alright, that he's adapting well and seems happy there, and, sure, it's not incorrect, but Tommy doesn't like that Dream's just saying it without asking him, speaking on his behalf. He listens to one side of the conversation quietly, and then during a long pause, he hears footsteps.

Tommy jumps and looks towards the door, noticing Dream entering the dining room, lingering in the doorway as he watches Tommy hastily eat his cereal, trying to pretend he wasn't listening in. "Yeah, yeah, he's here right now, just eating his breakfast," Dream tells Phil, watching Tommy as he stares right back. He takes a step closer, "Alright, yeah, I'll ask him now," he extends the phone to Tommy, hovering his hand between them. "Your dad's on the phone."

Without making a move for the phone, Tommy looks away with a scowl, "he's not my dad, I don't want to speak to him."

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Dream return the phone to his ear, still hovering next to him as he speaks again, "Sorry, Phil, he doesn't- oh, you heard that?" he frowns, and Tommy feels momentary guilt burn in his stomach. "Yeah, sorry, today's probably just not a great day for him, I think he stayed up late last night, he's probably tired. I'll ask him again when you call next week."

Tommy sits and stares at the table silently as he listens to the polite remainder of the rest of the call, not really having much choice as Dream sits down at the table next to him.

His cereal tastes like ash in his mouth and he keeps picturing the dejected look on Phil's face when Tommy had snapped, imagining the way his face fell. He loses his appetite pretty quickly.

The moment the call is over, Dream turns to him with a disappointed expression, "that was very rude, Tommy."

Maybe Dream had been right about it being a bad day for Tommy, because he's irritable and pissed already so he explodes, slamming his spoon down into his bowl and throwing his arms up into the air, "it's not my fault that Phil's a dickhead!" he shouts.

The flat that he'd lived in with Wilbur was always loud, they both called to one another from across the place when they were too lazy to get up, they laughed loudly and sang along to the music on the radio in the kitchen, they shouted happily, and it wasn't uncommon to hear the thudding of footsteps as Tommy danced along to Wilbur's guitar. He's used to being loud, he's always been loud. Wilbur told him once that it was his favourite thing about him, that he was so unapologetically him.

Dream, though, clearly doesn't appreciate Tommy's passion because his expression steels. "Do not shout at me like that. I don't appreciate you arguing back with me, Tommy," he scolds, and despite his sharpness, he remains calm, and somehow that's worse. "If I say that you were rude, then you were rude. We'll need to work on that."

Tommy doesn't like the way he said that. He's not hungry anymore, so he doesn't pick his spoon up again, instead, slumping into the chair and crossing his arms. "Sorry," he says, conscious to drop his voice a little.

"Better," Dream placates, before standing from the chair and looking down at Tommy. He's the tallest he's ever been and yet he's never felt so small. "I can see why Phil didn't want you. You're lucky I do, because clearly I'm the only one who does," he says coldly, then adds, "Well, the only alive one who does."

With that, he turns on his heel and leaves the room.

Tommy sits at the empty dining table with his half eaten breakfast in front of him, and closes his eyes. He wants Wilbur back. He'd take another hundred years living with Wilbur's moodiness if it meant taking the place of Dream's calm, unpredictable anger.

He misses Wilbur.

It hasn't even been long since he'd died, only a little under two months. His knee still hurts from throwing himself out of the car, he'd never gotten that checked because no one knew he was even in the car in the first place. He still jumps at the sound of screeching tires when Dream's car pulls into the driveway. He dreams of Wilbur every night. He still sees his brother in that stupid fucking car whenever he closes his eyes.

He hates that the memory of his brother is tainted by his final few months.

Tommy's careful now not to speak as loudly, overly conscious of his volume, even when he's excitable and gets ahead of himself, because when he gets too noisy, Dream sends him one of those disappointed looks, and it makes his stomach sink every time.

On his second week there, Dream enrols him in the nearest school, and they end up having to go in for a meeting to explain the sensitive situation.

He has a panic attack in the car. He doesn't know what it is, only that it's the same feeling he had when Wilbur was speeding towards that tree. He clutches his chest and heaves for air, squeezing his eyes shut and blurting out that he thinks he might be dying. Dream laughs and tells him to stop being so dramatic, says it's only a five minute car ride and he's too old to be acting like such a big baby. Tommy has to spend the entire ride with his hands pressed over his eyes, hysterical, convinced that they were going to crash, just bracing for impact. All he can think about every time he hears the breaks is the sound of the wheels spinning out of control seconds before Wilbur's car wrapped around the tree.

When they arrive at the school, Tommy has to take a minute to calm down, and subconsciously, he realises his knee hurts more than usual.

Dream tells them about the loss of his brother, explains the whole history as Tommy sits there with blank, red rimmed eyes, and they agree on compassionate leave- meaning it's up to Tommy when he wants to re-join the school year. They also tell him that the grades for this year past January won't matter, his final grade will be based on what he was achieving before Wilbur's death.

He leaves the building thinking that things are looking up. He's still fucking miserable, but now at least he doesn't have to worry about going back to school or grades.

It's only when they get outside to the car park that he realises it's raining.

Tommy freezes.

Dream gets in the car, starts it, and then does a double take when he notices Tommy hasn't gotten in. He's still standing outside on the pavement looking at the car with wide eyes. The rain's beginning to dampen his hair already, and there's droplets dripping from his blond curls as Dream rolls down the window and asks, "What are you doing, Tommy? Get in. We're going home."

He knows he probably looks pitiful, with the storm soaking his clothes rapidly, shivering already despite the fact that it's only March, and says softly, "It's raining."

"I can see that, Tommy," Dream looks at him like he's stupid, "Get in the car," he repeats a little sterner this time.

Tommy can hear the rain bouncing off the windshield even from outside the car. He remembers that same noise being the last thing he'd heard before he threw himself out of Wilbur's car. His hair is damp and sticking to his forehead, and his socks are uncomfortably wet beneath his shoes. "I- I can't," his voice wobbles as he forces it out. He then clarifies, "I can't get in the car. It's raining."

Dream stares back at him like he's gone crazy.

Forcing himself to speak, he brings his arms across his chest and hugs himself as he shakily manages to say, "It was raining when Wil-"

"-Oh my god, is that what this whole car thing is about?" Dream scoffs in disbelief, as if Wilbur hadn't passed only two months prior, as if Tommy hadn't been the one to call the emergency services for his big brother, hadn't been the one to see him in that state. "Tommy, Wilbur was driving recklessly in the rain. He was being stupid. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think I'm going to crash us? It's like you don't even trust me after all I've done for you."

It's one of his stupid trick question again, and Tommy doesn't know what answer Dream's looking for. Honestly, he's not sure if Dream would crash the car, because he never thought Wilbur was capable of that either until they were speeding towards a tree. Cautiously, he starts, "Dream- I don't-"

"Look, either you get in the car now, or you walk home. I'm not sitting here playing games, Tommy," Dream offers, and, yeah, Tommy isn't actually sure what he wants Dream to do about his whole car aversion thing, but neither of those options sounded particularly great. "Fine. Okay. Whatever, you have your phone, right? You can find the directions back home. It'll only take you twenty minutes at most. Don't stay out past curfew, the storm's supposed to get worse soon," Dream tells him.

There's a long moment where Tommy stands, freezing in the rain, thinking that this isn't real.

This can't be happening.

Then he watches as Dream rolls the window back up, sending him one last annoyed look before pulling out of the car park, and speeding off down the road.

In the pouring rain, Tommy fumbles to take his phone out. He doesn't remember what number Dream lives at, but he remembers the road name. It's still a struggle to try and type with the rain splattering on his keyboard and his reddened fingers trembling with the cold, and it takes a minute until it loads up the directions. Dream wasn't far off, it was only a twenty five minute walk, but Tommy's clothes were completely drenched already, hair dripping and having to wipe his phone screen on his damp sleeve every few seconds, and he hadn't even started the walk yet.

It takes him forty minutes of walking in the storm until he manages to find their road. He takes several wrong turns, phone glitching with the rain, and he's only five minutes from Dream's house when it completely shuts off, and won't turn back on. 

Tommy ends up wandering vaguely in the right direction until he recognises his surroundings, and he manages to find his way back.

The first thing Dream does when he gets through the door is scold him for dripping rainwater across the floor. Tommy elects not to tell him about his broken phone, and instead opts to go and shower to try and warm up. His left knee is killing him, his hands are completely numb, and he literally limps up the stairs.

The next few days are spent with him being sick, in bed, shivering, with a fever, and Dream's kind enough to take care of him.

Tommy doesn't know what to think.

Dream knows that Wilbur died in a crash not long ago, and he still made Tommy walk home alone in a storm. But then he spent days sitting at his bedside, brushing his sweaty hair off of his face, leaving cool washcloths on his forehead, checking his temperature with a thermometer and keeping him company the entire time. 

He'd heard Dream call out of work by telling them, "I can't come in, my kid's sick."

He doesn't know why that makes him want to cry. Tommy isn't sure if the feeling in his stomach after that is happiness or dread. 

It's after nearly four weeks of staying there that Dream mentions school again. Tommy's still dodging Phil's calls, and he'd been meaning to text Technoblade before his phone broke, and still hasn't turned on. He's basically been rotting in Dream's house for nearly a month, so its understandable when one day, Dream gently pushes the subject again.

Tommy caves, and agrees to try it. His grades this year from after January wont even count, so it doesn't matter. It just stops him falling behind. 

Dream buys him a computer for his school work, and when Tommy mentions his broken phone from the rain, Dream just laughs, and ruffles his hair, telling him that eleven year olds didnt need phones anyway. Tommy shrinks away from his hand. 

Thank fuck, Dream doesn't have time to drive Tommy to school or pick him up, so Tommy can completely avoid going in the car. He can walk, and it isn't far. The only thing is, without his phone, he has no directions. He ends up writing his directions on a piece of paper the night before his first day there, copying them from his computer.

School is school.

It isn't any better than his old school in L'manberg, and it isn't any worse than his school in Pogtopia, it's just kind of fine. 

It kind of sucks at first though because all of the teachers keep giving him pitying looks, they know about his circumstances. They all know about Wilbur. The school is small enough that he doesn't really get lost too much, but that also means it's crowded, and it's the busiest place he'd been since Wilbur's death, where he'd quite literally only left the house for the funeral. Tommy hadn't been around so many people in a while, so he struggles, but he doesn't want to seem ungrateful. They were nice enough to let him join near the end of the year, literally at the start of April, and aren't even grading him, so he doesn't complain.

He hides it well.

None of his teachers make him introduce himself, which is a relief, all of them seem to feel bad for him, because all they do is tell the class that a new student is joining, and move on pretty quick. No one tries to talk to Tommy in class.

At lunch, he quickly realises that he hasn't brought any food, and Dream hasn't given him money. He finds an empty table in the lunch hall, and takes a seat with his notebook. He'd started making notes for every class he was in just to keep track of what ones he was going to fall behind in considering he hadn't been in school since January, because he had a lot of cramming to do and he didn't want to do all of it in the summer break.

"Hi, is anyone sitting here?" 

Tommy jumps, and when he looks up, there's two boys standing there.

One is considerably taller than the other, but they're both standing with smiles, holding their backpacks and lunchboxes. The one who spoke is short and tan, with scruffy brown hair falling into his eyes, a large red birthmark across his eye, and beaming widely. His bag is comically large and the jumper he's wearing has an embroidered bee on the front. The other is visibly nervous, tall but hunched over, fidgeting with his hands, smiling shyly as he looks up with mismatched eyes from behind his split coloured hair. It looks natural, though, because, although he's pale already, the side with the white hair is even paler, and the freckles across his nose seem to lighten on the same side.

The shorter one has his hand on the back of the chair, so Tommy just shrugs and answers, "no," quietly, assuming he's going to take the chair and drag it to another table. He looks back down at his book, and then hears the scraping of two chairs across the floor of the lunch hall.

When he glances back at them, he sees that they've sat down at the table with him.

"You're the new kid from my maths class, right?" The shorter one asks, swinging his backpack onto his lap and rummaging around as he speaks before pulling out his lunchbox. Tommy opens his mouth to answer when the boy continues. "I heard them say your name is Tommy. I'm Tubbo, this is Ranboo. He's not mute, just shy. How long have you lived in Essempi? Your accent sounds a little different. Do you have any friends yet? Where's your lunch?"

Tommy blinks.

Tubbo speaks almost as fast as he does usually (aside from when Dream gives him that look and he falls quiet) so it takes him a second for his brain to catch up.

"Uh, yeah, I'm Tommy. I only moved here from L'Manberg, like, a month ago, so, no, I haven't really met anyone yet," he pauses for a moment to try and remember the barrage of questions that Tubbo had asked, before adding, "and I forgot my lunch."

He's always been a loud, energetic kid, happy and friendly with just about anyone and everyone he met, it's just that he's still on edge about moving in with a stranger who kind of scares him a little, and he's still miserable because his big brother only died like two months ago. They seem nice enough, Tubbo and Ranboo, but he's just so tired and unsettled that he's more reserved than he usually would've been.

"You're not allergic to anything, right?" Tubbo asks, but he's already sliding a protein bar across the table with a grin. There's only a second of delay before Ranboo follows suit, passing across half of a ham sandwich, still wrapped in clingfilm. 

Tommy blinks.

"Guys, I really appreciate this, I do, but I've known you for maybe thirty seconds. I can't just take your lunches, that's not-" he falters, catching the dedicated look in Tubbo's bright eyes, and Ranboo's encouraging smiling, and Tommy's just so hungry that he caves almost immediately. He's been keeping clear of the kitchen whenever Dream's in there to avoid conversation, so his stomach is more than happy to accept the food. "Thank you," he settles on instead.

Tubbo beams back at him and starts digging into his own lunch, "So why'd you move here? You in witness protection?"

It takes Tommy a second to blink away the image of Wilbur in that hospital bed, blinks again, then answers, "I got adopted," he says simply. "The school let me have a couple of weeks to get used to living with my guardian before I started school, but I moved here three weeks ago, I think."

It's not really a lie.

"Good for you, I'm adopted too, so I get it," Ranboo smiles kindly, and he seems genuinely happy for him. Tommy doesn't have the heart to tell him that he didn't want to be adopted, he just wanted his big brother back. "If you've been off school for nearly a month, I take it you need some help with catching up with school work?"

Tommy's been on edge this whole time, nervous, waiting to see what the catch was (there always seemed to be a catch with Dream), but he finally settles, breathing out in relief. "Yes, I'm so behind that they're not even counting my grades for this year," he laughs quietly, even though it's not really a joke, and he's leaving out the whole dead-brother thing, but they laugh with him.

"Don't worry, Ran's, like, a genius. We can help you! We can be your new guardian angels," Tubbo says, completely sincere.

Ranboo's lips twitch into a smile, and Tommy has to bite back another laugh. "That might be a bit much, but the sentiment is there, I guess," he agrees. "You're going to love it here."

They're the first friends Tommy has made in a long, long time. 

Even when he'd been living with Wilbur, first in L'Manberg and in Pogtopia, he didn't really ever make friends. He was too loud and obnoxious for most of them, argumentative and overeager. For a long while, his brother was his only friend.  Then he moved in with Dream, and Dream said he was going to help him fix his behaviour so he wasn't so annoying, and clearly he'd been right, because Tommy has never made friends this fast. 

He starts to think that maybe Dream really was helping him.

The three of them spend the rest of lunch comparing their lesson schedules, Tubbo and Ranboo advising him on what the teachers were like, what the work was like, and what lessons he shared with them. Turns out, they shared the majority of lessons. If Tommy wasn't in a class with Tubbo, he was probably in a lesson with Ranboo. It was a relief to discover that he had very few lessons alone. He has English with Ranboo, and he smiles so wide that it hurts when Ranboo tells him that he's the top of the class, and he'll help Tommy with whatever he's fallen behind in. He has Science with Tubbo, and when Tubbo excitedly suggests that they could pair up for experiments, Ranboo has to remind him that it wouldn't be possible because he always has to pair with the teacher to make sure he doesn't explode anything again. 

Tommy laughs so hard that he almost forgets about going home to Dream.

He forgets, for one long moment, about Dream at all. He smiles widely at his friends, and thinks, I can't wait to go home and tell Wilbur about them. It quickly all comes back to him after no more than a split second, but in that brief glimpse of time, he'd completely forgotten that his brother was dead at all. He remembers Dream, and tense, long silences, and his smile falters. 

At the end of the day, their final class had been together, so all three of them walk to the school gates in a group, chatting excitedly. 

A red car pulls up to the side of the road, and Tubbo happily tells him that his dad always picks up him and Ranboo after school. He leans out of the window and asks Tommy, very loudly, if he wants a ride back to his house. 

Tommy trusts Tubbo and Ranboo, despite only knowing them for half a day, Wil always said that his weakness was that he was too trusting, but he doesn't trust cars, so he politely declines, waves them off as they drive down the road, and then begins his usual walk home, without having to read the directions this time.

When he gets back, he excitedly tells Dream all about his new friends, and catches himself before he gets too loud every time. They're his first real friends since he was a kid, and, yeah, he's only eleven, so he's still a kid, but still, Dream looks pleased. He tells Tommy that he's glad he's settling in well and making friends already, that it's a sign he belongs here.

Simultaneously, Tommy brightens and wilts at once.

After dinner, he offers to wash the dishes while Dream clears the table, and it's while he's in the kitchen, absentmindedly scrubbing a plate as he scans the room, that he notices the pinboard is missing the neon pink post-it note he'd stuck on it the day he moved in.

Before he left, Technoblade had given him his email on a post-it note. He'd said, in his usual, gruff, too-cool-for-this-shit tone, that if Tommy ever needed anything, he was pretty much always checking his emails for work, so that would be the best way to reach him. Tommy thought it was stupid, told him that he had Techno's number if he needed anything, and only old people email, but he took it anyway.

He'd pinned it to the board in the kitchen as soon as he moved in to Dream's house, but it must've fallen.

He hadn't ever intended on emailing Technoblade anyway, but it was reassuring to know that he had someone he could speak to if he ever needed it, considering he was moving to a brand new city with a stranger and had cut contact with his Dad entirely. Techno was only a family friend, sure, there was no real relation there, and Tommy wasn't even particularly fond of him after Wilbur's crash, but he was the one Tommy hated least out of his life back in L'Manberg, so he supposes it's better than nothing.

His note is gone, and he can't see it on the floor either, but he forgets about it pretty quickly.

Tommy still misses Wilbur so much that it makes him feel sick thinking about it, still looks at the framed photo of the two of them on his bedside table every night before bed, but he's doing better than he was.

Dream still unnerves him a little, but Tommy can escape to school now to see his friends so it isn't too bad. He does seem like a genuinely nice man, and Tommy's kind of glad that he was adopted by him and not sent into foster care, because he buys Tommy things and cooks nice meals and wants to help him stop being so abrasive.

He goes to school every morning, sits through his classes, spends break and lunch with Tubbo and Ranboo, and then walks home to help Dream cook dinner. He starts spending most of his evenings studying before realising that, with Ranboo's help, he wasn't really behind anymore. He'd only missed around two months, so there wasn't a crazy amount to catch up on. He starts using his computer to play games and call with Tubbo and Ranboo, which Dream was happy to buy him headphones for so he would stop overhearing their conversations. Tubbo and Tommy both had a tendency to swear and get a little bit too overexcited, so while Tommy was careful not to get too loud, it was easier with headphones because he could speak softer and they could still hear him. He's only known them for nearly two weeks, but it's hard not to become close friends when he sees them five days a week, eight hours a day.

Tommy thinks that he really is doing better.

His knee hurts less now with the constant walking, though it does irritate him whenever he has to run for gym class, and Tubbo jokes about how he's so unathletic that he limps when he runs. Tommy laughs, and tries not to linger on it, though he is hyper aware of his limp whenever he runs now. He dodges Phil's weekly calls, still hasn't spoken to him since he moved in.

He's not really happy, he misses Wilbur too much to be genuinely happy, but he's undeniably happier than he was.

It's April ninth, and it's Tommy's birthday.

He's been living with Dream for over a month now, he loves living with him, his unofficial grades are looking better, he has two real friends, and it's his twelfth birthday.

It's also the first day that Dream hits Tommy.

He wakes up to find that both Tubbo and Ranboo had remembered his birthday, and sent him messages sometime that morning to congratulate him. It doesn't make him cry, but it does make his eyes burn embarrassingly. He sits on his desk chair, knees up to his chest, and reads and re-reads their discord messages for a long time. It's still kind of crazy to him that he has friends now, and he's still caught up on that when he hears the ping alert of a new email.

Tommy glances at the notification in the corner, and his heart sinks.

In clear, glowing text in his dimly lit bedroom, the alert "Technoblade Watson has sent you 1 new email!" stares back at him from the edge of his screen. It hovers there until Tommy finally remembers that his hand is hovering over his mouse, and he has to do something. 

He swallows, and clicks on it quickly before he can change his mind.

"Hi Tommy.

I really hope this is the right email, because your handwriting is awful and honestly I had to guess half of those letters. It took me twenty minutes to figure out if that was an I or a L. Who taught you to write? Sorry, not the point.

I've been waiting for you to reach out first, but I'm guessing you're still not my biggest fan right now. That's fine. I already kind of assumed you didn't want to see me or Phil, but neither of us have actually spoken to you since you moved in with Dream. Phil didn't seem too worried about it, he told me that on his weekly calls he's heard that you're doing well, but I thought I'd at least send a message to check in and hear it directly from you.

If I'm overstepping, though, you're very welcome to tell me to go away.

I'm sure I don't need to even say that, you'll probably do it anyway, but that's important to know.

Anyway, today is your birthday. (I really really hope I haven't got the date wrong because that would be so embarrassing.) 

Happy 12th birthday!

I still remember Wilbur's 12th. None of his friends could make it to the party so Phil called me and asked me to come over. (This was back when you two were still young enough to think I'm cool). I was 18, and I spent my Friday night celebrating my co-worker's kid's birthday. I lived an exciting life, if you couldn't tell.

It was just us four, and we ended up going out for dinner. You were only tiny, so I doubt you remember it, but Phil can't bake for his life, so the cake was awful, and we ended up stopping at the store to buy another one. Wilbur didn't mind, but you said you didn't want the cake that Phil baked to go to waste, and you ended up eating so much of it that it made you sick. You stopped eating cake for years after that.

Phil told me that you still won't speak to him, so I don't think you'll even want to hear from me, but I thought I'd at least try since it's your birthday and everything. I hope you're doing alright with Dream. He seems like a nice guy. Have you made any friends at school yet? 

Again, probably overstepping with this email, but it's worth a shot. Happy birthday, kid.

I hope you're okay,

Technoblade Watson."

Tommy sits there and stares blankly at the screen, knees pulled to his chest as he reads the words a hundred times over. He doesn't really know what to feel.

It was easier when he was younger. Wilbur told him that he should hate Phil, so he did. He told Tommy that Phil was neglectful, so Tommy thought Phil was neglectful. Things made so much more sense when he had Wilbur there to tell him what to think, what to feel.

Now, though, he doesn't know.

He doesn't hate Techno, not like he hates Phil, but seeing the email in his inbox pissed him off. He doesn't want his 'dad', he hates Phil, and he doesn't want Techno, who isn't even family.

He just wants Wilbur back.

There's a knock at his bedroom door, and he quickly closes out the email and goes back to his discord messages with his friends as Dream comes in.

Dream tells him that Phil is on the phone and he wants to come around later today to give Tommy his birthday present. It's a seven hour drive, so if he wants to make it there today, he's going to be leaving in the morning. Tommy rushes to say that he absolutely does not want Phil anywhere near him. Dream sighs, stares at Tommy with disappointed eyes, and tells Phil over the phone that it would be best if he posted the present instead.

Tommy goes to school as usual, it's a Friday anyway, so he doesn't mind, even if Wilbur always used to call him out of school for his birthday. 

His teachers wish him happy birthday. Tubbo tackles him into a hug the second he sees him, gives him a little keyring as a gift, and they both sing happy birthday to him so loudly at lunch that they get shushed several times. Ranboo shows him a cupcake that he baked for him, and they put a little candle in the top that they obviously can't light, but Tommy pretends to blow it out anyway. The cupcake is amazing, and he immediately puts Tubbo's keyring on his backpack. He's honoured to have such amazing friends, even if they've only known him for a few weeks.

He walks home, and when he gets through the door, Dream is waiting with a cake in the kitchen. There's one single wrapped present on the kitchen counter, and when they go into the dining room, there's more scattered across the dinner table.

Tommy doesn't know why he was ever scared of Dream. 

He feels more at home here than he ever with with his dad, with Phil. (Is that true? He never hated Phil until Wil told him that he should. He doesn't know anymore.)

Tommy blows out his candles, has the first slice of cake, and beams when Dream tells him that he can have cake for dinner if he wants. He opens his presents in the dining room first. He gets a new phone, a new red hoodie that he immediately puts on, a new backpack because his old one was Wilbur's hand-me-down that was fraying, a couple new t-shirts, and a jacket with a hood to protect him from the cold on his walk to school. 

Dream doesn't know him too well, and hasn't known him for long, so the presents aren't the most personal things ever, but Tommy is still immensely grateful. He grins and thanks him repeatedly, and doesn't even falter when Dream tells him he's being too loud again, just drops his volume and continues.

Then Dream stands, and disappears for a moment, coming back with the other box from the kitchen. "I know you said you didn't want to see your dad, but he dropped this round while you were at school. I don't know what it is."

Tommy takes one look at it, and says, "I don't want it."

He watches with baited breath as Dream's face shifts. He takes on that cold expression that Tommy hadn't seen in so long that he half-thought that he'd made it up in the first place. His eyes turn harsh and he asks quietly, "What did you just say?"

"I don't want it," he repeats, louder, defiantly. "Phil is not my dad. I don't want anything he's sent me."

Dream raises his eyebrows and scoffs, dark eyes staring down at him in the way that makes him nervous. "Don't be so ungrateful, Tommy. He drove seven hours here, and then seven hours back, just to drop off this present. The man didn't even want you, there's a reason he signed over custody to me so quickly. Even after putting you up for adoption and sending you to a different city, he's still sending you birthday presents. Can't you be pleased that he's at least pretending to care?"

Tommy feels sick.

It's a trick question again, and he doesn't know the answer.

He thinks that maybe the best thing to do is to just go along with it, to pretend like he agrees just because he doesn't know what else to do. These trick questions feel like bait, but he can't tell what Dream wants him to say doesn't want him to say, so he just quietly says, "Okay," and extends his hand for the present.

Dream snatches the box away from him, "No, you didn't want it, right?" 

Tommy scrambles to stand up and watch as Dream sets the box on the table, tearing the messy wrapping paper off to reveal what looks like a shoebox. They're both silent as Dream opens the lid.

When he sees what's inside, his heart stops.

It's Wil's stuff.

His birthday present was a box of Wilbur's old stuff, and he'd told Dream that he didn't want it. He stares with wide eyes as Dream starts carelessly lifting stuff out of the box and unceremoniously dumps it onto the table.

At the top of the box is Wilbur's scratched iPod and his headphones with the peeling stickers on the sides. His dark brown bomber jacket is sat folded beneath them, and below that is the blue zip-up hoodie that Tommy had forgotten to bring with him when he moved out. There's a framed photo from Tommy's childhood, of back when he had a real family. It's sunny, and the beach looks warm. Tommy's sat on Phil's shoulders, only a toddler, showing off his toothy grin. Wilbur's sitting on the floor next to a sandcastle, but he's looking up at his little brother with a soft smile. Wilbur's old circular glasses are laying at the bottom of the box next to his beanie.

Tommy's eyes are burning as he looks into the box. His hand automatically reaches for Wilbur's iPod, only to be smacked away. 

He looks up at Dream with wide, bleary eyes, a silent question. 

Dream stares back heartlessly, cold, cruel, "You said you didn't want it, Tommy. you can't change your mind now," he shrugs half-heartedly. 

He feels sick, wonders distantly if he's still asleep, if this is all a nightmare. His heart is seized in fear as he stutters out, "but-"

"What did I say about arguing back with me?" Dream cuts him off as he lifts up the box and tips it out across the table. There's more photos at the bottom, unframed, and they scatter across the tabletop. "It's not even a present, it's all trash anyway."

Tommy lets out a shuddering breath, clenching his fists, "No, it's mine! That's Wilbur's stuff, Phil sent it for me-"

"-You didn't want it!" Dream reminds him with a cruel laugh.

"-But you can't take it off me, that's Wilbur's! It's my birthday! It's my stuff!" Tommy shouts, frustration burning a pit in his stomach. 

He watches Dream raise his hand.

Before he knows what's happening, his cheek is stinging and his head snaps to the side.  

When he looks back, Dream is standing in front of him, breathing heavily. It takes him a second to connect the dots, but when he does, he feels dread wash over him as his heart sinks. His first instinct is that his hand must've slipped, it must've been an accident, but Dream is staring down at him with hard, dark eyes, and there's no apology on his lips. The second thing he feels is disbelief. 

Tommy touches a hand to his cheek, wincing as he brushes against the tender skin. "You hit me," he whispers in shock. 

"I'm helping you, Tommy. You were being ungrateful, someone had to correct you," Dream says coldly.

"You hit me!" Tommy repeats a little louder, eyes widening. His heart is thundering in his chest, and he realises with an ache that he wants Wilbur back now. He wants his big brother more than anything. Wilbur would kill Dream for laying a hand on his baby brother. He takes a step back, away from Dream, shaking. "You fucking hit me!" 

"You deserved it!" Dream snaps, "Didn't you?" 

Tommy is silent, mouth agape.

Dream grabs his chin and forces him to look up at him, to meet his wide, furious eyes, "didn't you?"

For a second, it's not Dream in front of him, Tommy's in the back seat of a car, hyperventilating and sobbing as Wilbur raves in front front, "Say it, Tommy, say it! We only need each other!" Then Wilbur's gone, and Dream's sat on the edge of Tommy's bed, wiping a cool washcloth over his sweaty forehead, reminding him, "I'm the only one who cares for you."

Wilbur's voice rings in his ears, "I'm the only one who really cares about you. No one loves you like me'  then the accent warps, and it's Dream speaking to him, "I can see why Phil didn't want you. You're lucky I do, because clearly I'm the only one who does."

"Tommy, I'm teaching you a lesson here," Dream's real voice snaps him back to reality, and he sounds softer now, gentle, like he's scolding a toddler. It's condescending, and Tommy feels small, but it's nothing in comparison to the horror of realising he'd been hit by his own guardian. "You won't keep acting like that if I teach you to stop. People will like spending time with you more if you just stopped being so annoying all the time. I'm helping you by teaching you a lesson."

There's a long, quiet moment.

"You needed to be taught a lesson, didn't you? You deserved it, right?" he asks again.

Tommy blinks away tears and stares into Dream's empty eyes, "I deserved it," he whispers brokenly, face burning.

He thinks maybe Dream's excuse about hitting Tommy to teach him to not be annoying wouldn't have worked so well if it wasn't something he heard from Wilbur all the time too. Of course, Wil had said it more affectionately, but he planted the seeds years ago with constant, teasing comments about how people would like him more if he weren't so much, Dream just took advantage of that. It resonated deep within him, and distantly, he thought that maybe Dream was right, he was so annoying that Wilbur couldn't stand to be around him.

Maybe that was why he crashed on purpose, and tried to take Tommy with him.

Dream settles, reaches over to tilt his face to look at the blossoming red mark, tuts, and then lets go of him. "Looks like you won't be going anywhere at the weekend," he remarks with a laugh, as if it's funny, and Tommy thinks he might actually throw up. This can't be happening. "Go to your room, I'll clear all this up."

Tommy looks mournfully back at the presents from Dream across the floor, and then swallows thickly as he stares at Wilbur's stuff scattered across the dining table.

His eyes are still watery, and his heartbeat is still thundering, but he manages to ask softly, voice no more than a rasp, "Can I please keep my present from Phil? I didn't mean it, I do want it, I'm sorry."

Dream takes it the wrong way.

He seems to interpret it as Tommy no longer wants Dream's presents and isn't grateful for them, and instead, he wants the shoebox full of old trash. It sets him off, and there's no escaping his anger. Dream throws Wilbur's stuff onto the ground, and then rounds on Tommy.

Tommy gets slammed into a wall, and then dragged back to his room, a hand clenching a fistful of his hair.

He's struggling and sobbing and trying to get away, and the stairs are the worst, because he's practically held up entirely by the grip in his hair, and he's glad his room isn't far from the dining room because before he knows it, Dream lets go of him. He collapses on the floor of his room, scalp burning, face stinging, sobbing, and apologising hysterically.

He's sure he looks crazy, hiccupping and clutching his head, but Dream looks down at him, and walks out, locking the door behind him.

It takes Tommy a while to calm down.

He can see himself in the mirror on his wall that his cheek has already reddened, and the bits of skin he can see in between his hair is irritated. Tommy thinks, for a second, that he wishes he never jumped out of that car, at least if he stayed with Wilbur they'd be together. He doesn't want to die, not at all, he just wants his big brother back.

He sits on the floor for a long time, just breathing, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Dream hurt him. 

The man who adopted him was hurting him, but he deserved it.

It takes Tommy even longer to remember the email from Technoblade, and that he never replied. He contemplates emailing back about Dream hitting him, begging Techno to call the police and get Tommy out of there. He could go back to L'Manberg and live with Phil, he sucked, but at least he never hit him. He quickly remembers Wilbur, and his decline, and the fact that Techno and Phil never helped him, so why would they help Tommy? He didn't deserve it any more than Wil did.

That idea gets scrapped quickly.

Instead, he climbs onto his desk chair, bruise on his cheek, eyes bloodshot and teary, and starts typing.

'to bitch boy technoblade.

i don't know what made you think i ever wanted to stay in contact with you, but you were wrong. ignoring you for months really shouldve got the message across, but if it didnt, then this should. fuck off!!!!!! stop emailing me, and tell phil to stop calling too. i hate both of you. go die 

and tell phil his present was shit. i didnt want it anyway. 

fuck you both and stop contacting me,

tommy soot'

Tommy cries himself to sleep that night staring at the photo of Wilbur on his nightstand.

It seems like Dream had been holding back, because after that first hit, Tommy doesn't go long without being hurt.

Sometimes its not too bad, sometimes Dream just slaps his hand away from something with a little too much force, or nudges him out of the way with a little too much force. Other times, Dream had called him out of school for a week claiming Tommy had the flu because he'd hit Tommy in the face and there were bruises across his jaw that he couldn't hide.

He's had more bloody noses since moving in with Dream than he has in his entire life.

For the first year, Tommy honestly tries his hardest to please Dream, tries to remember all the unspoken trivial rules that he was just expected to know. Dream starts doing this weird thing where he'll give Tommy something, and then take it away, and then give it back, and it's a complete mindfuck. He doesn't understand Dream, can't predict what he's going to do, so he tries to be kind and quiet and reserved, speaking only when spoken to. He tries so hard that he's basically rewritten himself as a person. Wilbur would've been so disappointed.

But Dream doesn't stop hurting him.

Tommy doesn't understand what he's doing wrong anymore. It's not fair.

Tommy comes back in July from his last day of school with his school report, which really is just okay. He's marked as good for his behaviour and homework in his lessons, and the small written sections from his teachers all say that he's a pleasure to have in class, he's hardworking, friendly, kind, and they're glad to see him settle in so well. But the grades are scribbled out. The entire column is scribbled over in thick black marker.

He tries to remind Dream that he wasn't even being graded this year, that his form room teacher had crossed out the grade section herself, that it wasn't him. He's telling the truth.

Dream's pissed, though. He reprimands Tommy for trying to hide his grades from him, teaches him a lesson not to do it again.

Tommy starts his summer holidays with a broken nose.

That first summer with Dream is fucking awful.

Phil's weekly calls have dropped down to once every two weeks, and Tommy notices that they're getting shorter and shorter. He still hasn't spoken to him. Tommy tries to spend as much time alone in his room as he can, on the phone to Tubbo and Ranboo. They want to hang out sometime soon, and when he asks Dream, he raises his eyebrows in genuine shock and asks, "you have friends?"

Tommy still recalls the feeling of his stomach dropping.

He feels like a little kid. He'd told Dream about Tubbo and Ranboo, it was one of the only topics he learnt didn't make Dream angry. He doesn't meet Dreams eyes, staring intently at a spot in the rug as he quietly speaks, "Yeah. Two boys in my class. Can I go out today to meet them please? I won't be out for long, I promise." 

The Tommy from before the crash never would've acted the way he is, terrified, quiet, beaten down. Past him would be so embarrassed. But Tommy doesn't want to get hurt anymore, he doesn't want to upset Dream, doesn't want to give him a reason to hurt him.

Dream hums, waving a hand "Alright, as long as you don't mind intruding on their time, I won't stop you," he agrees backhandedly.

Tommy reels, blinking rapidly at him in question.

He laughs, "Oh, come on, Tommy. Surely you know that the only reason you're invited is because they feel bad that you're the sad new kid with the dead brother."

Tommy should've shouted back, should've defended Tubbo and Ranboo's honour, should've defended Wilbur's honour, but the words die in his throat. He hasn't told Tubbo and Ranboo about his family yet. He hasn't really told them anything other than something happened that meant Tommy had to be adopted, and he moved in with Dream. They don't know about Phil, or Technoblade, or Wilbur. 

That's all they know.

Instead of arguing back, he just swallows, and forces out quietly, "Thank you for letting me go. I'll be back before curfew," he promises, and rushes to leave.

Tommy learns that he prefers speeding time with Ranboo and Tubbo than he does at home, so he ends up spending most days out.

Even when they're busy, he tells Dream that he's hanging out with them so he can get out of the house for a while. He usually wanders around alone, sits in the park, just anything to not be around Dream for a few hours. He doesn't have a phone still, the one from his birthday was taken straight off him after he had his outburst about Phil's present, and Dream wont buy him one, so he's left alone with his thoughts for far too long, but even that's better than being trapped with Dream.

Midway through August, Tommy asks Dream if he can sleep over at Ranboo's house.

Dream agrees, as long as he has the number of Ranboo's parents in case of emergency. Tommy passes on the number of Ranboo's cousin, who had adopted him, and doesn't think twice about it.

Tommy walks to Ranboo's house, and the sleepover is amazing, he has more fun then in that one night than he has that whole summer holiday.

Tommy meets Ranboo's cousin, Aimsey, who seems genuinely nice, and they tell him that if the three of them need anything, they'll be upstairs, but otherwise, they'll stay out of the boys' way. He meets Ranboo's younger cousin, Michael, who's somehow more shy than Ranboo, and he sees for no more than five seconds.

The three of them stay up late, sitting in the garden on the swing set and eat so many sweets that Tubbo ends up laying flat on the grass, groaning and complaining that his stomach hurt. They end up going back to the living room where the floor was covered in blankets and pillows to watch a horror movie. They get twenty minutes in before Tommy jumps and screams at Ranboo bumping his arm accidentally, so they switch it to the Lego movie. Aimsey orders them a pizza so big that each of them gets to take a box of leftovers home after the sleepover is over.

When he goes back to Dream, the house feels cold and empty in comparison.

He thinks that, now he's seen what he could've had, being back with Dream feels like he's being punished for something.

It's only a week after that when Tommy decides he can't deal with Dream shouting at him. He's been off on a rampage all day, yelling over nothing, and as soon as he starts to settle down, Tommy asks if he can sleep over at Ranboo's house again. Dream agrees, if not just to get him out of the house, so Tommy snatches his backpack and leaves. 

He ends up sitting in a park all night, not sleeping, just sitting on the swings with his eyes closed, pretending he was back at Ranboo's, with his friends sat on either side of him.  He digs out the stash of library books from his bag, along with the flashlight he stole from the junk drawer in the kitchen, and sits there reading. He's never particularly liked reading, but it's better than sitting there doing nothing until sunrise.

When he comes home, Dream is angrier than he's ever been.

He says he'd called Ranboo's cousin to ask if Tommy needed his pyjamas because he'd forgotten them at home, and instead, Aimsey had told Dream that Tommy wasn't even there. This was the first time Dream evolves beyond slaps, or a punch or two. Sure, he'd broken Tommy's nose before, and bruised up his face, but those had been accidents, he hadn't meant to hit him that hard. He got him an ice pack after and apologised, promising that he'd only meant to teach him a lesson, not to hurt him that badly.

Tommy has lived with Dream for six months, and this is Tommy's first time being really, really hurt.

He ends up not sleeping for two days because of the shooting, agonising pain in his ribs. He manages to drag himself to his computer to tell Tubbo and Ranboo that he got sick, so he can't video call or voice call because he looks awful and he's lost his voice. It's a good thing he did, because he pissed Dream off again only days later when he said he couldn't finish his lunch because of the ache in his ribs.

Dream had gone upstairs, unplugged his computer and taken it away.

He spends the rest of summer break, staring at the ceiling and re-reading the library books he'd taken home over the summer. He misses Wilbur. He thinks he's turning into Wilbur.

When he goes back to school, starts his first full year at this new horrible place, Tubbo and Ranboo bombard him with questions.

They ask if he's okay, what happened, ask how ill he had to be if he completely stopped replying. Tommy tells them he's fine, he was just an bit sick. He's snappy and stand offish, and they're trying to be kind, so he softens and apologises. He admits that he's not been let outside for weeks now, and he's going a little stir crazy. Tubbo tells him that it was fucked up to be locked in his room for so long.

Ranboo gives Tommy a guilty look, he knows that his cousin had gotten Tommy into trouble, but he didn't think it would be that bad. Tommy promises him that he doesn't blame him, lies and says that the reason he wasn't let outside wasn't because of his lie about the second sleepover, but actually because he got sick, and Dream thought that if he went outside, he might catch something else. It's complete bullshit, but Ranboo believes it, and the topic isn't brought up again.

It's a lie, but Tommy doesn't want to blame him, so he can pretend.

Tommy's grades are just kind of fine.

He's only failing one class, Maths, and he tells Dream it's because he's struggling to focus. Dream tells him to stop using the dead brother excuse and just try harder.

He has his first 'parents evening' with Dream in November.

Honestly, he's terrified. He doesn't want his teachers to tell Dream how much his grades have suffered. Sure, when he joined, his grades weren't counted from the remaining months of that school year, but they were keeping track now. His grades when Wilbur died were awful, to the point that he nearly was held back, but he'd redeemed it when he moved to Essempi, and, while they weren't officially grading him, it was clear he was smart, so they passed him for the year. Now, though, his grades are going back down again, not as low as before, but they're not great either.

Tommy's shaking, recalling what happened at his last official parents evening. Wilbur. The shouting. The crash. Sitting in a hospital waiting room. He's scared, but at least it can't be worse than last time.

Dream drives up to the school and waits for Tommy to meet him by the gates, because he'd insisted on walking again. He's completely given up on trying to talk Tommy into getting into the car anymore, they're both too stubborn to cave. 

His teachers say they're glad he's settling in, but that he needs to try a little harder. Tommy tries to explain that he is trying, just that sometimes he can't force himself to focus, even though he really doesn't want to fail. It's hard to explain, and he gets frustrated quickly because he's not saying it right and he sounds stupid. His face turns red and he clenches his fists as he fumbles over his explanation.

His teachers sympathise, and tell him they understand his struggles. His History teacher comments about Tommy's friends, says she had to seat them separately to get them to stop talking.

After that, Tommy is given his computer back for school work, but Dream tells him he's going to start monitoring his messages with his friends to make sure he's not distracting himself. He's also not allowed out of the house to meet his friends anymore. He has to have a good reason.

Dream says he's not really grounded, and he gets very irritated when Tommy half-jokes that he's under house arrest. 

Christmas break is shit.

It's his first Christmas without Wilbur, not that they ever really did anything crazy to celebrate, but still, knowing that he wasn't going to go downstairs and see a Christmas tree, poorly strung with uneven lights, with messily wrapped presents beneath it, and Wilbur sat there, beaming at him, made him not even want to leave his bedroom.

In the end, Dream gifts him Wilbur's iPod and headphones, which Tommy treasures, and doesn't comment on the fact that this was another thing that Dream carelessly took away and then gave back for no real reason other than cruelty. Dream tells him that he's glad that Tommy is taking on his advice and letting him help him because he's fixed his behaviour so much that Dream finally thinks he deserves Wilbur's old things. Tommy never thought he needed to be 'fixed' up until now, and even then, he's not sure. 

Everything is confusing.

Tommy ends up thanking Dream, for some reason that he's not even certain about. He eats Christmas dinner in his bedroom, alone, and listens to the familiar music on Wilbur's iPod and cries. He can't visit his friends and exchange presents, not that Dream would let him buy anything for them in the first place, he can only message them a quick 'Merry Christmas' and even then, they can't speak much beyond that. He's overly conscious of everything they say to him over messages, cautious of how Dream would interpret them, and he can't even delete anything because Dream had assured him that he would be checking if the timestamps had any weird gaps. He lays in bed and stares at the ceiling, listening to music that isn't even really his sort of thing, but it reminds him of Wilbur, so he listens anyway.

He drags himself out of bed and decides to distract himself by watching something on his computer, which he's still technically allowed to do.

He only gets as far as logging on and clicking onto Netflix when the tell-tale email chime appears again.

"Technoblade Watson has sent you 1 new email!"

Tommy hates that the first feeling in his chest is hope.

He doesn't know why, but the second he spots the email, he envisions having Christmas back at home, not even at his and Wilbur's flat, but back at home, with Phil's shitty cooking and him and Wilbur ripping open crackers across the table, fighting over the paper crowns, Techno visiting mid-way through the day because he doesn't really have a family to celebrate with. 

When he blinks, he remembers where he is, at his real home, with Dream. Wilbur was six feet under. Phil was back in L'Manberg. Technoblade wasn't even real family.

He clicks onto the email with baited breath, torn between being furious that Techno hadn't listened to being told to fuck off, and thankful that there's finally someone he can speak to. His messages with Tubbo and Ranboo were limited, but that was because Dream knew to check them. He would never think to check his emails. It's nice to hear from someone who isn't Dream. 

'Tommy,

It's me again.

Sorry, I know you don't want to hear from me, but I just wanted to wish you a merry Christmas. I'm sure your first Christmas without Wilbur couldn't have been easy for you. I would've bought you a present or something but I think you might've actually tried to kill me.

That was a joke, if you couldn't tell.

Is it obvious that I'm trying to cheer you up?

I hope you're doing okay. No one's actually spoken to you since you moved out, not directly at least, but Phil tells me that he hears you're doing really well. I'm happy for you, really. 

Wilbur would be happy for you too.

Merry Christmas,

Techno.  '

Tommy glares at the screen.

Dream would be fucking furious if he knew he was still keeping in contact with Technoblade. If he hadn't wanted Tommy to distract himself by talking to Tubbo and Ranboo, he would absolutely not be happy with Tommy emailing Techno back.

But Tommy really, really wants to speak to him.

In all honesty, as much as he despises Techno for not trying hard enough, for not saving Wilbur, he's always looked up to Technoblade, and he misses him more than he misses Phil. 

So he settles on a short reply.

'bitchnoblade.

i told you not to ever message me again. merry christmas, dickhead. im fine. seriously. stick to your word this time and dont talk to me ever again.

fuck off !!!!!

(PLEASE!!!!!!!!!)'

He doesn't even bother to sign it, just presses send and then clicks back over to Netflix to try and forget about it.

Seasons pass far too quickly, and before he even knows it, they're back in January, it's the anniversary of Wilbur's death. 

Tommy doesn't go to school that day. 

He doesn't realise what day it is, he's just aware that he feels shitty. Still, he manages to drag himself out of bed, brush his teeth, and when he goes back to his room to change his clothes, he spots the calendar, next to one of his many framed photos of Wilbur, and it hits him.

In an instant, images of the crash flash behind his eyes. Him pleading with Wilbur not to do this. Throwing himself out of the car. The one short horrible moment of laying on the grass in the rain where he stares up at the sky, heart racing. Hearing the awful noises of the car wrapping around the tree. Running over, despite his newfound limp. Calling an ambulance and uselessly staring at Wilbur in the front seat of the car, blood running down his face, wheezing as he stared right back at Tommy.

He vomits.

Dream throws his door open, and stares at him, hysterical on his floor, sobbing.

He's expecting to be slapped again, but Dream just sits with him, calms him down, and tells him that he's going to call him off sick to school. He tells him to have a shower, and get back in bed. He hears Dream on the phone to Phil, giving his condolences for the anniversary, and telling him that no, Tommy didnt want to speak to him. Tommy has a shower while Dream cleans his room, and when he comes out, in new pyjamas with wet hair, Dream brings up a cup of tea and a plate of toast made exactly the way Tommy likes it.

He even brings up Wilbur's old blue hoodie that Phil had sent so long ago, says that he doesn't think Tommy deserves it, but that he's going to be nice.

Tommy knows he's so lucky to have Dream.

That's the best he could've asked for after losing Wilbur. Dream is so kind to him, he only hurts him when he has to, to teach him a lesson, and he always apologises after.

Tommy spends the entire day in his room, looking at photos of Wilbur, listening to Wilbur's old iPod, wearing his old hoodie even though its on top of his pyjamas and he's in bed. He ends up on his computer, scrolling aimlessly underneath his google search of Wilbur's name, staring at old grainy photos of him, when he finds the YouTube clips from the news that night. They talk about Wilbur's crash in between a news story about a new restaurant opening, and new government legislature on weed. Wilbur would've found it hilarious.

He gets twenty seconds of screen time.

The news anchor talks emotionlessly as an ancient photo of Wilbur from his school ID is flashed on the screen. Tommy laughs through his tears because Wil always hated that photo.

He hears the chime of an email while he's sat at his desk, looking at articles about Wilbur. there are far too many news stories about him, about how a tragic accident had taken a man far too young, about how the rain had caused it all, pitying Wilbur for being taken too soon. Tommy knows it isn't healthy to sit and read all this, especially not when he knows the truth, remembers having to throw himself out of a moving car and fucking up his knee just to stop his brother killing him. 

" Technoblade Watson  has sent you 1 new email!"

Tommy clicks onto it in an instant.

The messages are getting shorter and shorter, he realises as he manages to skim his eyes over this one in no more than a few seconds. He can't explain why that makes his chest tighten. Even though he directly told Techno to stop messaging him, the idea of never getting another email from him makes his eyes burn.

'Tom,

I'm sure I don't need to remind you what day it is. I'm sorry. I can't believe he's been gone for a year. If you ever need anything, literally anything at all, I'm always here. You know where to find me. Wilbur would be so proud of you, I hope you know that.

I'm so sorry,

Techno.' 

He frowns, and deletes the message this time. He doesn't want to reply, and doesn't want Dream to see it. He deletes the other emails from Techno too, wipes his computer of the evidence. The only proof now is the screenshots Tommy took so he could go back and read it again,  pretend everything is still fine.

He falls asleep at his desk watching a clip of a news broadcaster talking about the tragedy that was Wilbur Soot's death. They're standing in front of the tree, taped off with bright caution tape. They say his tires spun out of control because of the storm. Tommy wants to believe so badly that their version of events was what really happened.

He goes back to school the next day, and still hasn't told Tubbo and Ranboo about Wilbur, so they don't pry. They just tell him they hope he's feeling better now, and move on.

Tommy is more argumentative now than he's ever been. 

He doesn't mean to be, doesn't want to be, but he is. He's angrier, bitter, because it's not fair that he gets stuck living with Dream, the sad kid with the dead brother, while his friends seem so happy. He's glad they're not the ones being hit to teach them to stop acting out, but that doesn't mean he's happy that he is. 

He has his first real argument with Ranboo and Tubbo, doesn't even remember what it's about, but he spends lunch eating alone for the first time since joining the school, glaring across the cafeteria at the two of them sitting together, just thinking about how fucking unfair everything is. 

Tommy apologises after a week, there's a lot of tears and they all hug and it's all very dramatic, but they're kids, and they move past it quickly, but he will never forget the feeling of being beaten by Dream and limping to school, hollow and numb, to zone out in class, to speak to no one and sit alone, and then go back home to Dream again. The loneliness was terrifying. It's worse than anything else, that feeling of isolation over those seven days, and he's never been so glad to have friends.

March comes quick, and Tommy and Dream celebrate the one year anniversary of the adoption. Dream takes him out for a meal, and Tommy forgets why he ever disliked him. Phil's bi-weekly calls drop down to once a month now. 

Dream sits him down one day after getting off the phone, and explains to him that some people are going to visit, and that Tommy has to say certain things if he doesn't want to be taken away and put into foster care. He tells Tommy all about the horrors of foster care, about evil parents and abused children, and when he asks if that's something Tommy would prefer, he obviously says no. Dream looks pleased.

He spends the remainder of the day coaching Tommy on what to say.

A nice lady visits. She says that, because Tommy is adopted, they're supposed to do one home visit a year to make sure Dream is still a suitable guardian. She asks if he's happy with Dream. He says yes. She asks if Dream has ever hit him. He says no.

Tommy doesn't realise until a couple of days later that the lady had been with CPS, and that he'd missed his chance of telling them the truth and escaping. 

He thinks that this was when things started to get really bad.

April comes around even quicker, and suddenly Tommy's thirteen. Phil doesn't call. He gets one present from Dream because they'd argued the day before, but it's a new phone, so Tommy can't complain, even if it's been over a year without one now since his broke in the rain so long ago. He doesn't seem grateful enough, though, because Dream sends him to his room and locks him in. He never gets to try his birthday cake that year.

He gets another email from Technoblade.

It's shorter again, as if he's aware of Tommy's short fuse and knows not to push it too much.

'Tommy,

Happy birthday. It's kind of insane to think that the little baby I used to babysit who used to tug on my hair and cry whenever I tried to put you down is a teenager. I can't believe you're practically ancient now.

Technoblade.'

He deletes the email and moves on.

Tommy's tried so hard, for over a year now, to make Dream happy.

Dream's only trying to help him. When he hurts him, it's punishment, teaching him a lesson, and Tommy knows for certain that he learnt those fucking lessons quickly. But he's getting angrier and angrier, pissed off at how unfair it is that Tommy seems to be the only person whose lessons get taught with pain.

He actually storms off at lunch once when Ranboo talks about how Michael had broken something, and Aimsey had just laughed and replaced it. Tommy had told Dream that the TV remote had run out of batteries, and Dream had gone off the rails, screaming about how Tommy broke it, about how he's so ungrateful to be there, and ended up hitting him around the head with the remote until it snapped in half, so it actually was broken after that.

Things don't seem fair anymore, and yeah, it's childish, but Tommy's thirteen and pissed off.

Dream sucks, Phil sucks, Techno sucks.

He's fucking sick of it. Wilbur would be so ashamed of how weak Tommy had become, at how he just let Dream do what he wanted, at how he didnt ever fight back. He didn't argue. He just let himself get hit. It's his own fault, it's embarrassing.

It's after he turns thirteen that Tommy decides 'fuck it'.

When Dream hurts him, it makes him angry.

He thinks back to a younger him, the one with braces and outgrown hair, one who Wil nicknamed a spitfire, who had thought Wilbur was the worst person in the world for being grumpy sometimes.

He looks at the injuries across his body, things he didn't even know what he'd done to deserve this time. He hates that he took Wilbur for granted so much. He'd take another twenty years of dealing with snappy Wilbur's quiet sadness over one more day with Dream. Anger burns in Tommy's chest and he grows bitter and pissed. 

It's easy, when Dream hurts him, because then he can make sense of his thoughts.

It's simple, to piece together that Dream hurt him, so he can be angry at Dream. It's logical. It's distracting him from overthinking and being angry at himself, at Wilbur, at Phil, at everyone. It's easier to be angry at Dream because it makes sense.

So he starts acting out. 

He intentionally fails his Geography class (Wilbur would've been so upset) and Dream refuses him food over the weekend, so when he goes back to class on Monday, he passes out in gym. He tells them he got dizzy, takes a sip of water, and keeps going. He feels like he has more of a valid reason to hate Dream now, he feels less ungrateful.

When Dream asks him to do the dishes, Tommy says no, because he's doing his homework. Dream puts his fist through Tommy's computer screen. 

At the end of the spring term, tommy skips the last day. It's Tubbo's birthday over the break, and Tommy doubts Dream will let him go out, so the three of them skip school and celebrate a couple days early. Tommy is bedbound for the majority of the spring break. When he goes back to school, there's a distinct awful yellow, bruised, hand-shaped mark across his upper arm, blood crusted over his knee, and he's still limping a little. 

When Dream asks him those trick, rhetorical questions with the hidden right answer, Tommy argues back.

That's their new thing, arguing.

They're shouting loud enough that a neighbour knocks on the door and yells for them to shut up. Dream backhands Tommy and tells him that the noise complaint is his fault. Tommy tells Dream to go fuck himself, and he ends up sobbing on the bathroom floor, holding tissues to his bleeding nose. Their arguments become a pretty regular occurrence, and it always ends with Tommy being hurt. 

Tommy wants Wilbur back. 

None of this is fucking fair. It sucks. Dream is an asshole, and still, he doesn't know how to feel about him.

Dream's the one who looks after him, keeps him safe, pays for his food, helps him with school, laughs with him over dinner and keeps him company. But Dream's also the one who hits him, beats him, yells at him and then acts as if nothing happened, locks him in his room without food, takes his things away and then gives them back only to take them away again in a weird, confusing pattern. 

But Dream's helping him, teaching him to stop acting out. Or, at least, he says he is, but Tommy doesn't think he's ever acted out as much as he did now. Tommy doesn't know what to think.

His year of being thirteen passes in a haze. 

Tommy starts blocking things out to cope.

He remembers it working when he was at the hospital after Wilbur's crash.

Dissociating, the nurse had called it as she stitched up his face. He starts forcing himself to stare at the wall and zone out when Dream yells at him, starts staring off into the distance and remembering the easier times with Wilbur. It's easy to block him out and he gets good at pretending he's listening, even though really, he's completely mentally checked out.

Tommy doesn't stay angry for long, now, he's just tired.

Tommy vaguely remembers that at one point in the summer holidays, he'd been on his side, curled up as Dream had been kicking him and after one well-aimed kick at his legs, it had irritated his old knee injury, which hadn't slowly faded away this time. It's subtle, but he has a limp now when even he just walks, and it's much more pronounced when he runs. No one questions it though, because he's always walked a bit funny, and he's so unathletic that it becomes a joke, and not a glaring warning sign.

Dream starts a new punishment, one beyond just hurting, because clearly that isn't working.

He starts taking things away from him, but this time, he doesn't give them back at all. He takes away Tommy's favourite shirt, a red and white one that Dream had bought him, takes away an old framed photo of him and Phil from his childhood, confiscates Tommy's phone a couple of times, but he usually gets that one back, at least. Dream tells him that he doesn't need all this trash, that he doesn't deserve it.

Most of the decorations Dream had bought for his room when he first moved in slowly get taken away as punishment, and it's mostly barren now. He sleeps with his framed photo of Wilbur underneath his pillow, because he doesn't want Dream taking that away too. 

It's not so bad when school starts up again, because he can see his friends, they help him with his school work and don't make him feel stupid for it. Dream still hurts him, but because he's out most of the day at school, there's only really a couple of hours in the evening that Tommy has to sit through, zoning out and letting Dream shout over dinner and hit him if he wanted, because it didn't matter, he was mentally completely somewhere else.

Over Christmas break, they argue, to the point that Dream ups his hours at work just to get away from Tommy. They get several noise complaints over Christmas, but Tommy's sick of putting up with senselessly being hurt.

On Wilbur's second deathiversary, as he'd taken to calling it, mostly to piss off Dream and because Wilbur would've loved it, it falls on a Wednesday. He gets locked in his bedroom or being too snappy that morning. He assumes Dream called him out of school for the day, but he can't be sure.  

Before he knows it, he's been living with Dream for two years.

Dream helps him. Dream hurts him.

He doesn't know anymore.

CPS comes.

Tommy doesn't bother trying to get out now.

He gives identical answers to last time, tries to put on a smile, but it's weak, even to him. He wants them to notice, wants them to take him out of there, but he doesn't want it to be his fault. Dream would be furious if he found out Tommy told them he hit him, but he couldn't be angry if CPS suspected something because they were worried about the bruises peeking out from under his sleeve, or his tired eyes, or his slipping grades.

The CPS lady doesn't say anything though, and when she leaves, she tells Tommy that he should be grateful he was adopted by Dream, because a lot of the kids she visits have it much worse.

He still has Tubbo and Ranboo, thankfully. They're really his only solace, even with his still broken computer and his limited texts he can send. His house arrest still hasn't been lifted, Dream wont let him go out and see them, but they take to calling him, because Dream can't check what they're saying over a call. Tommy starts spending hours on the phone with his friends, sometimes separately, sometimes together, if they're hanging out and he can't be there, and he starts deleting his call logs.

It's been two years with Dream.

Tommy turns fourteen.

Phil doesn't call, but he sends a card. Tommy bins it without opening it. There's no email from Technoblade this time. He tries not to think about it. 

His gift from Dream is maybe the worst he's ever received.

It's a bottle of concealer, one that perfectly matches his pale, sickly skin. He's confused, and when he asks, Dream just gestures to his black eye he'd received that morning when he'd shouted at Dream for not letting him see his friends.

Tommy realises, with a terrified thought, that these two years with Dream have been him holding back. 

Now Tommy has a way to cover his bruises, Dream has no reason to be gentle, if you could even call the last two years 'being gentle'.

He manages to shakily force out a "thank you, Dream,", and he silently wonders how long it's going to be until Dream hurts him bad enough that he lands up in hospital, if the doctors would suspect abuse or if they'd treat him send him right back home, or, worse, how long it'll be until Dream goes too far, and he ends up in the ground next to his brother.

Tommy starts sneaking out to visit his friends, and dealing with the consequences later.

He needs to see them, he can't spend all day with Dream. They don't treat him any differently, they don't know about Wilbur. They don't suspect anything with Dream. They treat him like he's a normal kid, like them.

They laugh and joke about getting grounded when he gets his report card back and realises his grades are shit, as if he won't get beat for that later. They don't realise, and Tommy likes it that way. He can pretend he's normal, when he's with them.

Ranboo gets into cooking, writes his own recipes, and starts bringing in his new creations for them to try. Tommy tries not to eat it too quickly, tries to pretend his hunger is only from being a fourteen year old boy and not from being starved. 

Tubbo starts learning to skateboard, so after school, instead of being picked up by his dad, when Tommy walks home, he skates next to him. It's nice, to have company, even though he has to say goodbye to Tubbo at the end of his street so Dream won't see him from out the window. Tubbo lives in an entirely different direction, but he says he needs to practice skateboarding after school anyway, so he doesn't mind.

His grades slip further. He's trying, he's not even intentionally doing it to irritate Dream this time, he just cant focus. He's miserable, and he's angry all the time, and nothing is fucking fair.

He argues with Dream more, and the same neighbour leaves noise complaint after noise complaint.

The neighbour ends up moving out in July.

He doesn't remember the summer holidays this time. He vaguely recalls at one of his first days off, he'd been busy messaging his friends and honestly hadn't heard Dream call for him to help do the washing up. Dream came upstairs, trashed his room, and broke his phone. Tommy had nasty black and blue bruises across his back for weeks from being thrown against the wall, and boot shaped bruises across his stomach. It hurt even to lay in bed.

Tommy can't remember much from that time, he chalks it down to hitting his head when Dream threw him into the wall. He's glad he doesn't remember it in detail.

School begins again, and he's dreading it.

Tommy notices the 'for sale!' sign next door in September, walks past it on his walk to school, over several days, walks past the cars parked outside as people view it. He sees several families come to visit the house, and prays that one of them move in and they'll notice his limp, pick up on his flinching and see the odd, terrified way he behaves in comparison to their happy kids. He hopes his new neighbour is a nice family, so they can help him. 

His teachers try and help him, but there's only so much they can do.

His English teacher, Mr Nook, or Sam, as he insists, asks if he wants to be tutored, asks if he's okay. He asks, once, if there's anything going on at home that he should be concerned about, anything at all, or if Tommy's struggling mentally. He says he's concerned, not about the grades, but about Tommy himself. His words are so similar to Wilbur's, so genuine and caring that Tommy nearly tears up, but that would've been a warning sign, and he needs to stay with Dream because he's learning, so he bites it back quickly.

Tommy puts on the performance of a lifetime, grins and laughs and tells him that he's perfectly fine, he loves living with Dream, and he's the happiest he's ever been.

Mr Nook drops it after that.

October is somehow worse than September.

Tubbo and Ranboo are worried about him. He's bitter and angry now in a way that he never used to be. He tries his hardest to be nice to them, they're his best friends, the nicest people he's ever met, and they've put up with him for two and a half years, they don't deserve to be lashed out at, but they end up arguing again, much worse, this time.

It's in October that Tommy is a bit too snappy for no reason, and Tubbo explodes, telling him to stop taking out his shit on other people, that it's unnecessary and mean, which Tommy totally understands, and he knows, and tries to explain that he didnt mean to be snappy, that it just happened, but it's hard to explain without telling them about Wilbur, about Dream, about seeing his half-dead brother in that car behind his eyelids whenever he sleeps and about being beaten when he goes home, so he fumbles over his words until he falls quiet because he can't find the right thing to say. They don't take his vague explanation well, and Ranboo calls him selfish.

He's right, of course, but it still hurts nonetheless.

They tell him that they both have their own problems that he doesn't ask about, and they don't take it out on him. They tell him to fix his shit, and then come back to them, because they can't deal with it, and it's not fair that he keeps lashing out at them. They say that they love him, he's their best friend, but he needs to sort himself out because they won't be snapped at for no reason, because it's not fair. 

Tommy doesn't think that what's not fair is the fact that his big brother is six feet under, and his skin is mottled with dark, violent bruises under his sleeves, courtesy of his very own guardian, but he bites his tongue.

He loses Tubbo and Ranboo in October.

Tommy goes to school with bruises most days, hides it under layers of concealer and oversized clothes, eats lunch in the bathroom, goes home to Dream, and thinks about how much he hates his stupid fucking family. Phil never wanted him, both Wilbur and Dream had told him as much, and if Wilbur hadn't been so reckless that night, he would still have his brother. He thinks he might hate Wilbur now too, for taking his brother away from him.

Tubbo and Ranboo give him worried looks in classes, but he just glares back until he pisses them off again, and they leave him alone.

November passes, and he breaks two fingers. Dream had stood on his hand while teaching him a lesson. Tommy doesn't know if it was intentional or not, but that doesn't make his bones any less broken. He bandages it himself and makes a makeshift splint. When he goes back to school two days later, he tells his teacher that he slammed it in a car door. Tubbo and Ranboo look up when they hear it, both sitting near the teachers desk.

But no one pushes further.

Tommy hasn't been in a car in nearly three years. They know that. He wants them to call him out on the lie, to interrogate him, to find out about Dream, but they're not even friends anymore, so neither of them say anything, and he goes back to his seat in silence. 

In December, Dream tells him they're not celebrating Christmas this year. Tommy's grades are too low, he doesn't deserve it. Tommy doesn't argue.

He has no fight left in him, he's exhausted.

In January, Dream sends Tommy to school on the third anniversary of Wilbur's death. Tommy cries in the bathroom at lunch.

He hears Ranboo knock on the door, tell him that he watched Tommy walk in there forty minutes ago and he's worried. Maybe they had a point about him being a bad friend, because Tommy shouts at him to fuck off and stop being such a stalker, they weren't even friends. He only cries harder when he hears the following silence as Ranboo leaves. He doesn't know why he's like this.

Tommy goes to class with red rimmed eyes, and desperately wants his teachers to notice. They know what day it is, though he doubts they remember. They have more important things than his bullshit. They don't say anything. Tubbo gives him a second glance, but that's all. One kid in his class that he doesn't know the name of jokes that he looks high. Tommy can't even bring himself to politely fake-laugh.

It's at the start of February that he sees the for sale sign next door is gone.

Tommy doesn't think twice about it, just hopes that whoever moves in can help him.

He wants someone else to say he needs help, he doesn't want to be the one that asks for it, because Dream couldn't be angry if someone else called CPS. It doesn't make sense, even to him, because he loves Dream, that's his guardian, but Dream hits him, and he doesn't know how to feel. He wants to run away, to be taken out of Dream's house and to never see him again, but at the same time, he's thankful for Dream for teaching him to stop being so harsh and abrasive, and he wants to stay, so he can learn more, so he can stop being annoying.

Dream is his friend.

Dream is also his abuser.

Tommy's not sure which one is true, or if either of them are true.

February is when things all start to kick off.

He's sat in his bedroom doing homework when it happens. His room overlooks the street, faces out onto the road, giving him a great view of the perfect, suburban, classic houses and the street lamps, but there's nothing interesting to see. In all honesty, he's staring out the window, and he's completely zoned out, the page of maths equations staying blank for five minutes now. He hasn't even picked up his pencil.

It's been nearly three years with Dream. He's fourteen, and he's spent nearly three years with Dream.

Dream's locked him in his room again, and he has no phone, (that had been smashed under Dream's boot when Tommy had been using it while Dream was talking), no computer, (Dream put his fist through the screen a while ago), so all he has to keep him entertained are library books and Wilbur's iPod. He hasn't added any new songs, he's just kept the same music on there that Wil liked, and he sits listening to it while he does his work, but he doesn't know the answers, and his brain feels like mush.

He's so hungry. It's a Saturday night, and Dream hasn't let him eat since Friday morning. It's not the longest he's gone without food by a long shot, but two days of going hungry is really getting to him. His stomach rumbles again, which makes him blink and snap out of it.

He refocuses his attention on the maths sheet, goes to reach for the pencil, and then immediately gets distracted by the deep sound of dogs barking.

Tommy knows this neighbourhood better than anyone, probably, with the amount of time he spends staring out of his window. The house across the road has a dog, but it's only a small, yappy thing, a Chihuahua, he thinks. One of the houses a few doors down used to have a German Shephard, but it passed away a couple of months ago.

This barking sounds new, unfamiliar, and it's clearly deeper, rough. Tommy isn't a dog expert, but he's almost certain that it belongs to a dog much larger than what the house across the street has. 

He glances out of the window again to confirm his suspicions, and sees nothing.

The dogs bark again, he can tell there's two of them now, and Tommy follows the sound to the half-open window over his bed, the one that looks out onto the side of his neighbours house, and he promptly freezes.

The sold house next door has a bulky SUV parked outside of it, and two dogs running circles around the front yard.

They're big dogs, fluffy ones, Tommy isn't the most educated on dog breeds, but they're fucking massive things, one white, the other a deep brown. They seem well trained, in all fairness, because they're off-lead and just circling each other excitedly on the grass.

Since his window is cracked open enough to let in some fresh air, he can clearly hear the sound of the car door opening, and a man's deep laugh. Immediately, chills run down his spine because he recognises that laugh, and he can't quite place it. He sees the driver of the cars legs swing over the side of the seat as he gets out, the two dogs running and jumping up at him.

"Carl, Steve, calm down," a familiar voice says softly, almost a whisper, despite the gruffness of his voice.

Tommy frowns, furrowing his brow as he tries to place it. The voice sounds much more familiar than the laugh, but he doesn't speak to many people anymore, so he doesn't actually know a lot of voices. (He's forgetting Wilbur's voice, a sick memory reminds him.)

He sees his new neighbour actually get out of the car, shutting the door behind them and turning to pet the dogs, and the realisation about just why they sounded so familiar hits him.

Technoblade looks different now.

It's been a couple of years, so Tommy thinks that Techno would be maybe thirty now, maybe a little younger, but it's undeniably him. His pink hair is longer now, where it used to be choppy at his shoulders, it's now hanging low down his back, but it's still just as choppy and messy as it used to be. He's wearing rectangular glasses low on his nose, glasses that he didn't used to have, and the faint dark brown scruff that used to only reside on his chin has now spread to his entire jaw, faint facial hair finally visible. Tommy always remembers Technoblade being massive, in both width and height, muscular and looming over him, but Techno isn't as tall as he remembers, but he supposes that's because he's tall now too.

Sure, Technoblade is well over six feet, and still has his broad shoulders and thick arms and that scowl permanently etched into his pale face, but he's not as intimidating as he recalls.

Though maybe that's because Tommy's been with Dream for nearly three years, and Dream's abuse is nothing compared to the once-scary Technoblade, with his stupid glasses and his stupid, dry humour, kneeling on the grass and petting his two dogs.

Tommy stares with a dropped jaw as he watches Techno through the window. He watches as he reaches into his pocket, pulls out his keys and disappears from vision, but Tommy can hear him click his tongue loudly, and both of the dogs run to him. He hears the jingle of metal, hears the front door swing open and then promptly shut once again.

He's still kind of frozen in disbelief even as he watches Technoblade re-emerge from the house, making his first trip to the car and heading back to the house with an armful of boxes. 

He never thought he'd see Techno again. 

He thought that, when he had to move seven hours away to live with Dream, he would never see any of his old life again. And, in all honesty, he was okay with that. Or, at least, he sincerely thought he was okay with it.

Now, though, it was apparent that his new neighbour was none other than Technoblade himself, and he doesn't know how to feel.

Tommy can't stop staring, eyes wide as he sees Techno make several trips to the car, carrying box after box, all clearly labelled and meticulously organized, occasionally accompanied by one of the dogs. Silently, he wonders what happened to the motorbike that he always thought was so cool.

It's only once he hears a car in the driveway and realises that Dream is home that he blinks and snaps out of it.

His new neighbour is Technoblade.

What the fuck?

Chapter Text

Tommy is still locked in his room by Sunday morning. He's actually going a little crazy all alone in his room for the entire weekend. He doesn't even like reading, but it's the only thing he can do other than lay in bed and listen to Wilbur's iPod. He's always tired, and he doesn't have much energy for anything anymore, but even this is extreme. He just wants to do something.

Honestly, at this point, he's considering pissing off Dream just for something to happen because he's never been so fucking bored. 

He thinks that if he lays in bed any longer, listening to the same songs on repeat, reading the same books he's already read, he might actually go insane, especially now that all he's going to be thinking about is his new neighbour Technoblade, literally a door away. 

He's bored.

Tommy has never snuck out before, but he knows hypothetically how he could, so he decides to risk it.

He lifts the latch to the window over his bed, the one on the side of the house, where he won't immediately be seen on the street climbing out. There's a trellis of ivy on the wall on one side, and a water pipe on the other. Tommy takes a deep breath, and stabilises himself between them as he carefully scales the wall. His hands shake, and he loses his grip on the water pipe a couple of times, but he doesn't fall to his death, so the mission is a success overall.

It's his first time sneaking out, so he lets out a relieved breath as his shoes finally touch the ground, until he turns and looks up and realises he has to somehow get back in after.

Oh, shit, well, that's going to be a problem for later Tommy.

Right now, though, he has to go and interrogate bitch boy Technoblade, and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing, moving in right next to him when he knew that all Tommy wanted was to get away.

Tommy scuffs his converse against the path up to Technoblade's front door. It's only been a day since he moved in, and he already has white flowers planted across his front yard, lining the foundation of the house, and a large potted plant next to the front door. His neighbours old welcome mat was gone, replaced by a simple blank rug.

He hated that his first thought was to laugh at how antisocial Techno was, before he remembered what he was here for and raised his fist to knock louder than necessary, just to be annoying.

His heart races as he waits with crossed arms. 

He doesn't know if he wants to see Techno again, and the uncertainty of it terrifies him. He's not sure how he feels about Technoblade, or about Phil, for that matter. Tommy isn't really sure of anything anymore, which is somehow worse than when he was younger and he knew he hated them. 

Before he can overthink it too much, the door swings open.

Technoblade looks more familiar up close. His hair is tied back into a braid, pink strands falling into his face. His pyjamas are actually kind of funny, which really makes it hard for Tommy to be angry at him, the crown patterned sweatpants and the baggy white shirt, printed with a pig design. The rectangular glasses are perched on the bridge of his nose, but he's still squinting, and for a second, Tommy feels bad for waking him up.

It takes him a second before his brown eyes widen and his jaw drops, scanning Tommy up and down, disbelief written across his face.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing here, Technoblade?" Tommy asks immediately, overenunciating his name the same way he used to as a kid, and yeah, it's a little harsh to start out with, but he's finally figured out that he's pissed with Technoblade, and he's been so bored that he's been driving himself stir-crazy for nearly three days, and it's not like he can take it out on Dream, so the next best option is Techno.

Oh, he actually kind of understands Tubbo and Ranboo's point now.

Technoblade blinks in shock back at him, and Tommy quickly remembers that he's had a whole night to wrap his mind around the fact that Techno had moved in next door. 

For Techno, this would've been the first time he's seen Tommy since he was adopted by Dream. Since then, he's had just under three years of abuse, and a considerable growth spurt, a little over six foot now, but somehow thinner than he was before. 

"...Tommy?" Technoblade asks cautiously, still looking back and forth across Tommy's face as if he was being pranked. 

If he weren't so angry, he'd find the shock funny. He'd also probably laugh at Techno's stupid patterned pyjamas and the wonky glasses sat on his nose, he'd probably mock him relentlessly for it, but now is not the time. He's pissed.

"Yeah, it's me, dickhead," he grumbles, openly scowling at him, which probably isn't making a great first impression after a little under three years. "Don't look so surprised, you're the one who moved in next to me," he says sharply, arms crossed over his chest. His attention is quickly caught as the white dog he saw yesterday nudges past Techno, trying to catch a glimpse of who's at the door. It pushes past and paws at his leg, and Tommy's anger softens a little. 

Techno's jaw drops impossibly further, and he sticks his head out the door a little, just enough to look at the houses on either side, "You live-?"

"Right there," Tommy gestures towards Dream's house, and then promptly gets angrier again as he catches sight of his bedroom window, and remembers being locked in for the entire weekend. He swallows thickly, "listen, if you're going to stare at me in silence, can we do that inside? Because I'm kind of not supposed to be out of the house right now, and I don't want any of the other neighbours to snitch. Plus, it's fucking freezing."

Still visibly in shock, Techno takes an unsteady step back, then another, just enough to move out of the way and let Tommy in. 

"Come in, I guess," Technoblade says unsurely, clearly reeling.

Tommy immediately thinks he prefers Techno's house over Dream's. It's much more homey, with the brown wooden support beams accenting the cream walls. The hall is clean, with two shut doors, and then two more large arches on either side, one leading to the living room, the other to the kitchen. Despite him moving in only a day prior, there's still a lot of furniture that he assumes was left over from the last guy, a vintage rug running down the hallway. 

There's boxes everywhere still, but it's tidy, illuminated in yellow by the warm lights across the ceilings. All of the curtains in both the living room and the kitchen are pulled back, so there's sunlight streaming in. It feels much more cosy than the one Tommy lives in, even if the layout is almost identical.   

He can see the brown dog curled up asleep on the couch, but the white dog is still circling Tommy's legs.

Technoblade stands there, in his pyjamas, hair messy and clothes rumpled, not looking dissimilar to a fish with his mouth agape and his eyes wide, just watching Tommy in shock. Honestly, it's a little offensive, it's not like he's a ghost, it's only been like three years, he can't be that different, surely.

"When I told you to fuck off over email, I didn't think I had to specify that meant do not fucking move in next to me! Not cool, Technoblade," Tommy scowls, crosses his arms again and keeps up his furious exterior, even though he really wants to sit down and pet the white fluffy dog that keeps nudging at his legs. He's breathing heavily, and digging his nails into his sleeves, recalling the years of built up rage he had towards Techno for not doing more to help Wilbur. 

It's all rapidly coming back to him now, all of the anger he had pent up, and it's not a good combination with the surprise of unexpectedly seeing Techno again after so long.

"Tommy, calm down," Techno starts, and as good as it is to hear a familiar voice that isn't Dream's, his words aren't what Tommy wants to hear right now, so it only ignites his resentment even more. 

"Do not tell me to calm down, Technoblade," he spits out, throwing his hands down at his side, fists clenched, "I thought I finally fucking got out of there! Phil stops calling, stops sending letters, you stop emailing, I thought I was out! I thought I could move on, now that all of you clingy fuckers have finally left me alone, and then you show up, and move in next to me-!"

"-Tommy," Techno cuts in, not sharply, but sternly enough that Tommy's words die in his throat and he makes a wounded noise as he subtly flinches back. "You need to calm down," he says again in that low monotone of his that makes his voice impossible to read. 

He opens his mouth to keep arguing, and the white dog paws at his leg again, whining.

"I'm not saying that to be cruel," Technoblade continues before Tommy can get a word out, "That's Steve, he's a service dog for anxiety. He's alertin' you right now. Calm down and take a breath. You can keep yellin' at me after, I don't mind, but right now, you need to calm down before you give yourself a panic attack. Seriously. He's alerted you, like, five times."

Tommy pauses.

He scoffs and forces himself to take a deep, overly exaggerated breath, half to spite Techno to show that this bullshit is stupid, and half because it really would explain a lot if this was what the build up to a panic attack felt like. Then, as if just to annoy him, Tommy's spinning head and thundering heart actually seems to calm, and the sick feeling in his throat lessens. 

Fuck Technoblade and fuck his stupid deep breaths.

The white dog, Steve, stops pawing at his legs, and instead turns and heads into the living room, jumping up on the couch to curl up next to the other dog. 

Tommy doesn't speak, doesn't say anything at all, because, for a start, he's finally figured out what those weird moments were when he couldn't breathe and got all flustered, and apparently he's been having panic attacks this whole time, so thank fuck for Steve alerting quick enough that he could calm down before it even started, and also because it's kind of embarrassing that he'd been arguing when Techno was right.

"I'm sorry," Technoblade finally says, the first to speak, and his tone is difficult to read, but Tommy thinks he sounds genuine. 

He looks away, and waits for him to speak again.

"I didn't know you lived nearby. Honestly. I knew you lived near the edge of Essempi, but I thought it was completely the other side. I didn't move in next to you on purpose," Techno admits.

Oh.

Tommy hadn't even considered that Techno probably didn't know his actual address other than simply that he lived in Essempi. He'd caught himself up in elaborate scenarios where Techno would intentionally move in just to piss him off and just to spite him for telling him to fuck off over the emails. He kind of forgot that coincidences happen too, not just big evil villain plans to upset him.

"Oops," Tommy says dumbly.

Truth be told, he's a little humiliated now. He snuck out, basically stormed his way into Techno's house, shouted at him to the point that his service dog had to alert him to a panic attack coming on, only to find out that it was all for nothing. 

He can feel his face burn in embarrassment, and he intently stares at a photo frame on the wall instead of meeting Techno's eyes. 

Technoblade is silent for a moment longer before he speaks, "It's good to see you, though. Really." His lips twitch in subtle amusement before he continues, "you're a lot taller than I remember," he half-teases, and it's so familiar speaking to him that Tommy's not even really pissed off anymore.

He missed this.

"Yeah, well, I was eleven. That kind of happens over three years," he shoots back, still not quite meeting his eyes.

Techno snorts a soft laugh, "Considering you just kinda invited yourself in, you might as well go and make yourself comfortable. Do you want a drink?" 

Tommy hesitates. He's missed Techno a lot more than he realised, but still, he glances at the front door, and all he can think about is how angry Dream's going to be if he comes home and finds Tommy's empty bedroom with the window wide open. Techno follows his gaze, and finds that he's staring conflictedly at the door.

"You're welcome to leave if you want. I can understand you not wantin' to see me," Techno says, stupidly kindly, and Tommy doesn't deserve it after yelling at him over a misunderstanding.

He swallows, and considers it for a long moment. He comes to the conclusion that he's already snuck out, so fuck it, he's already here. Why not?

"Can I have tea, please?" he asks, voice softening. 

Techno nods, and gestures towards the living room. "I'll be back in a moment," he says, but Tommy's already heading into the room he gestured to, taking advantage of his opportunity to look around. He decides to sit on the arm chair instead of the sofa, because the dogs look too comfortable to move.

There's a fireplace, not on, but the mantle is completely lined with photos. Most are of scenery, sunsets and stars, but there's one on the far end near the armchair that Tommy can spot himself in.

He stares at it for a long moment. He's with Wilbur and Techno, Phil's not there, so he assumes this was one of the many times that Technoblade babysat them. They're in an arcade, and Tommy can't be more than five, grinning and sitting behind a pile of tickets, barely visible above them. Wilbur is mid laugh, looking at Tommy instead of at the camera with bright, shining eyes, alive. Techno looks awkward, begrudgingly smiling at the camera, holding Wilbur's blue zip up jacket. 

Tommy remembers that day, where Techno had tried taking a photo of just him and Wil, but he'd insisted that Techno should be in it too, so he had to ask some poor arcade worker to take it. They got it printed off his phone that same day, and it was the only thing they brought home from the arcade because they didn't actually have enough tickets for anything fun. Tommy can recall that he didn't even mind, because he'd just been happy to spend time with them.

He feels a little sick, seeing the photo. He doesn't have many photos of Wilbur left, most Dream has confiscated, and it always throws him off when he sees a photo of Wil that he hasn't seen before.

He forces himself to look away, leaning back into the armchair and picking at his nails.

Techno returns with two mugs in his hands, crossing the rug to hand one to Tommy silently before making his way over to the couch. He clicks his tongue at the dogs, "You two have beds. Come on, get up," he says, half disapproving, half amused, and both of them look up at him with identical big eyes. Tommy can't help but smile, even if it hurts a little that Techno speaks nicer to his dogs than Dream speaks to him. "Nope, the eyes don't work on me. Get up, go to your beds."

Both of the dogs jump down from the sofa, making space for Techno to finally sit down, placing his mug on the coffee table and brushing the dog hair off of the couch.

Tommy takes a sip of his tea, and his chest warms. He hasn't seen Techno in just under three years, which is a pretty considerable amount of time for a fourteen year old, and still, without asking, Technoblade has made his tea exactly the way he used to have it. Three sugars, and a disgusting amount of milk. Dream still asks him how he drinks his tea every time, if he even bothers to offer to make it. 

It's such a tiny detail, but it makes him want to cry.

"It took me a second to recognise you," Techno starts, sounding more awake now. "You look different," Tommy sends him a sarcastic smile, "Seriously. You're like a whole foot taller than I remember, and you look tired."

Tommy snorts a dry laugh. "Thanks, dickhead."

"Seriously, Tommy, are you okay?"

He pauses for just a little too long to consider it. "I'm tired, but I'm okay," he finally answers. "I like living with Dream, but I just wanted to move on from everything, which was kind of hard with Phil calling every week asking to talk to me. I think he's given up now, he hasn't rung in a couple of months. I thought I was done with all of that, but then you show up."

Techno frowns and averts his eyes as he drinks from his mug, a latte, probably, if Tommy remembers correctly. "Yeah, sorry about that. It really wasn't on purpose. I finally got that contract to write my own books, so I thought I'd move out of my old place, 'specially cause I only lived there to be close to the office. Thought I'd take the dogs somewhere that they have more space, and Essempi was the cheapest place to get a house with a garden. I knew you lived here too," he pauses, "but I really didn't mean to move in literally next door."

There's a beat of silence.

"When did you get the dogs?" Tommy asks, instead of pushing the whole 'following him to Essempi' conversation. "I don't remember you having them before I moved away," he leaves the question about them being service dogs left unsaid, but Techno hears it anyway.

"Two years ago. I got Carl first, he's a rescue. I found him at the side of the road on my way back from work, and it turns out he's an ex K-9, and they dumped him once he stopped doin' his tasks properly. I couldn't leave him in a shelter, so I took him home," he hesitates, takes another sip, and looks away. "I got Steve a couple months after that. My anxiety got pretty bad, I wasn't leavin' my house, and I'd been talkin' about gettin' another dog so Carl wasn't so lonely. Phil was the one who surprised me with Steve, actually," Techno admits, looking cautious as he mentions Phil's name.

Tommy doesn't react. "I didn't know you had anxiety," he says instead, "You know, when I was younger, I always thought you were, like, the coolest guy ever. You were so intimidating."

"My anxiety makes me uncool?" Techno teases sardonically.

It's not even that funny, but Tommy splutters with a surprised laugh, and it's honestly maybe the first time he's laughed in months, since falling out with Tubbo and Ranboo. "That's not what I'm saying, bitch, I mean I used to look up to you so much, then Wilbur... well," Tommy swallows over the sound of screeching tires ringing in his ears. "I thought I hated you, for a long time. Up until five minutes ago, actually. But I'm actually kind of glad you're here. I missed you. I think."

"That's actually the saddest thing you've ever said," Techno taunts, but Tommy can see the fond smile on his face. He can read Techno well enough to catch the subtle twitch of his lips. 

He knows Technoblade doesn't exactly do emotion, so he's not offended at all. Still, he rolls his eyes and scowls, "Fuck off, man. I was being nice."

"It's the weekend. Do you not have anythin' better to do than sit here bein' all sappy?" Techno questions, clearly only half-joking, "Where are your friends?"

"Well, Technoblade, I'm actually not supposed to be out of the house right now. I'm sort of permanently grounded, and I don't currently have any friends," Tommy pauses, and scrunches up his nose. He cackles a surprised laugh and looks away, "Oh, wow, yeah, I hear what you mean about me sounding sad now."

"You're okay though, right? 'Cause Steve doesn't ever alert for other people unless it's real bad," Techno asks.

In response, Tommy makes a vague noise that's not quite a yes or a no.

Technoblade raises an eyebrow, and Tommy sighs, continuing. "I'm fine. I just don't really know what to think about you and Phil so it just gives me a headache whenever I try and make sense of what's going on up here," he taps his forehead. "I'm just tired, really, I'm okay. It's just not exactly a great time of year for me. "

At that, his eyes subconsciously glance back over to the photo on the fireplace mantle, looks back at Wilbur's gentle smile and his bright eyes. His heart hurts. It's still hard to believe it's been just over three years now since Wilbur's been gone, nearly three years that Tommy's spent with Dream instead of where his big brother should've been. 

Techno scrutinizes him under his gaze.

Tommy's aware of how he looks, now that he's seen the old photo of himself. His overgrown blond curls are messy from him running his hands through them, grey eyes sunken in with dark eyebags, nails bitten down and picked at. He's over six feet now, and he's much, much skinnier than the normal 'lanky' he used to be as a kid. His hands are bony and his collarbones stick out so much that he hates it. Subtly, he glances down at his sleeves to make sure they're pulled all the way down, because he still has a distinctly hand shaped bruise wrapping around his forearm from last week that still won't go away. His knee bounces restlessly, and the skin on his lips is bitten and chewed.

Still, whatever Techno was looking for, he doesn't find it, because he settles.

"Okay, if you're sure," he relaxes, placating. "But you actually do like living with Dream, right? I still haven't met the guy properly, and I'm gonna be honest, when Phil told me you were bein' adopted by a man he'd only known for a month, I was a little worried.

"Dream's great!" Tommy says, in the same rehearsed voice he uses for when CPS does their yearly visits. It's cheerier than his usual brass crudeness, "He's a massive step up from Phil, so I can't complain," he doesn't know how much he actually believes that. Wilbur always told him that their dad was the worst person in the world, basically. Tommy never had a problem with him, but Wilbur wouldn't lie to him, so he blindly followed him.

Now, though, he was stuck with Dream, who helped him, who abused him, who was his friend, and also the man who beat him so badly once that he had to be called off sick from school with the flu because his bruises were too visible. 

"Plus, Dream's, like, rich, so that's definitely a bonus," Tommy adds, voice light despite the conflict raging in his mind. Thinking about Dream gives him a worse headache than thinking about Phil. This shit sucks.

Techno smiles at him, "I'm glad you're okay. Phil told me you had settled in well, but it's much better actually hearin' it straight from you."

"I settled in great, big man, took me no time at all. It's so much better living here than the month I spent back at L'Manberg with Phil. Seriously, it's nicer here, even if I can't go out much because I'm kind of permanently grounded," Tommy laughs, taking another sip from his mug as he quickly realises that he might've said too much.

Raising an eyebrow, Techno asks, "Do I even want to know what you did?"

Tommy scratches the back of his neck in embarrassment, staring intently at the wall instead of meeting Technoblade's eyes. "I was hanging out with my friends too much and my grades got really bad, so Dream said I can't go out until I fix my grades. That was a while ago, though."

"I thought you said you didn't have friends," Techno asks with a confused frown.

"Oh, I've been grounded literally since August. I did have friends then, but I don't anymore," Tommy shrugs half-heartedly, pretending that talking about Tubbo and Ranboo didn't hurt. "It is what it is, I guess."

Techno's dark eyes widen a little, and considering that he's not a very expressive man, Tommy knows he must've really caught him off guard. "You've been grounded for six months? Jesus, maybe you're more like Wilbur than I remember," he half-jokes, and Tommy barely manages to smile in response. "You look like him now too, actually. Phil used to joke that Wilbur was swapped at birth because of how different he looked, but you can really see the relation now. You're almost as tall as he was."

Was.

The reminder makes Tommy's stomach turn. Dream doesn't like when he talks about Wilbur, and his teachers have all forgotten, and none of his classmates even know, so he tries to avoid it, keeping everything about his brother locked away in his mind.

Sometimes it was easy to forget that Techno wasn't much older than Wilbur was, only six years, and he'd watched both Tommy and Wilbur grow up. Tommy remembers hearing that Techno and Phil had met not long before Tommy was born, at Phil's old retail job where Technoblade was 16, shy and terrified, and Phil took him under his wing. Sure, Techno only lasted a year at that job before he quit, but him and Phil remained close. Even when Techno went off to University to study English, he still visited consistently and babysat whenever he could. After he moved out with Wilbur, Techno would still visit as often as Wil would let him, for birthdays and celebrations mainly.

Up until Wilbur's crash.

Tommy knows he's nearly 15, but he doesn't feel like that. He still feels like a little kid, who just wants his big brother back. 

Tommy swallows and looks out the window, catching sight of Techno's car in the driveway, a bulky SUV, "What happened to the bike? Don't tell me you gave it up because you got old," he asks instead, choosing to not respond to the remark about Wilbur.

As a kid, Tommy always knew when Techno was visiting because he would hear the roar of the motorbike engine approaching. The SUV looks sad in comparison.

Dream doesn't like hearing about Wilbur, but he has all those trick questions where Tommy is supposed to always just know what answer he wants, and sometimes he'll try and bait Tommy into talking about his brother, and then punish him when he does.

He wonders if Techno is doing the same thing, testing him, seeing if he'll slip and talk about Wilbur when he's not really supposed to. Or, worse, he'll go running to Dream and tell him the moment Tommy starts speaking about his brother. 

Technoblade blinks, and catches onto the conversation change with a furrowed brow. "If you don't want to talk about him, I get that, 'specially if you don't want to talk about him with me, but this is the second time you've ignored me mentionin' him. It's been three years, Tommy, you can't just pretend he doesn't exist. That's not healthy."

Techno's voice isn't gentle, it's too low and monotonous for that, but it is noticeably softer.  

Tommy can't force himself to quite meet Techno's eyes, bouncing his leg and picking his nails, the picture of nerves. "I know," he says quietly, taking another sip of his tea just to delay speaking a little longer. He can't work out if this is a test or not. "I don't like thinking about it."

"I'm sorry," Techno says sincerely, "Do you still go to therapy?"

At that, Tommy actually does look up, meeting his gaze with questioning eyes, "Therapy?"

"Yes, therapy. Your brother died, Tommy. Phil asked Dream to find you a therapist when you were adopted. Do you not go anymore?" Techno asks with a slight twitch in his frown. 

"I never went in the first place, big man," Tommy says instead, and then immediately feels the dread creep into his veins again, a cold chill running down his spine. He wonders if this was something Dream didn't want him telling people, if this was one of those unspoken rules that he just had to figure out himself and then lie on Dream's behalf.

Technoblade looks crestfallen.

It's funny, how devastated he looks, Tommy thinks, because not sending him to therapy is by far not the worst thing Dream has done to him. 

Tommy takes another sip of his tea, staring at the dogs curled up in their beds in the corner of the living room as he speaks in a hushed, embarrassed voice. "You know, it's been three years, and I still haven't visited his grave?" he says as if it's funny, laughs quietly to himself, but Techno just keeps staring at him with those gentle, saddened brown eyes.

He knows he hasn't entirely sidestepped the question.

"Really?" Techno asks, sounding apprehensive, "Will Dream not drive you up there to visit?" he sounds more accusatory than curious, and Tommy gets the feeling that Techno doesn't really seem to like Dream. 

"It's not like I'm exactly the biggest fan of cars, Technoblade," Tommy smiles sadly at him, "A seven hour car ride is literally my worst nightmare. I'm sure I have the best lungs this side of Essempi with the amount of walking I do."

Tommy thinks it's kind of funny.

Techno's lips don't falter from their frown.

"Still?" Techno asks, and his voice actually softens considerably, something Tommy didn't know he could even do. It's so unlike him that it's jarring, and Tommy has to close his eyes for a second because his chest actually hurts. He's not used to people caring about him, not anymore.

"Yes, 'still', dickhead. That sort of thing tends to stick with you," Tommy grumbles half-heartedly, finishing the last of his tea.

He sits for a long moment, waiting for Technoblade to speak, because he doesn't have much more to say and the longer he stays here, the longer he's risking Dream catching him having snuck out of the house. Still, he lets the silence sit as he gives Techno the chance to say something.

When he does, Tommy wishes he hadn't.

"I'm sorry," Technoblade says quietly, and he sounds genuine.

The comfort and familiarity of being sat in a living room with Technoblade and having a quiet conversation makes Tommy's head spin. It's like he's three years back in the past, and it's a little hard to wrap his head around. But everything's all wrong, because Wilbur's dead, Technoblade's apologising, and Tommy doesn't deserve it.

He kind of feels like a dick for barging in and shouting at him at eight in the morning now.

"Well, sorry for bursting in here and accusing you of moving up here to stalk me. That was kind of embarrassing. Thank you for the tea, too, but I should probably be going back soon because I'm not exactly supposed to be out in the first place," Tommy says abruptly.

Dream was right.

Dream had been completely accurate, he's an awful, horrible, impulsive kid, and he needs to be taught to stop acting out. This whole thing should never have happened.

He didn't like Tommy having anything to do with his old life, the framed photos of Wilbur were the only exception. He didn't like when Phil called, didn't like when Tommy tried talking about memories in his childhood. Dream told him that he had to leave his old life behind when he moved in, that he was seven hours away and the only real member of his family was dead, so it was time to get over it and start a new life. 

Technoblade could not be part of his new life, or Dream would be so, so angry.

Suddenly, Tommy gets to his feet, a little unsteady, dizzy at the thought of the lesson he was going to be taught he was going to get when Dream finds out about this. "I really should be- I need to-"

Dazedly, he walks out of the living room and back into the hallway, thankful that it's not far, because he's moving on autopilot, and all he can think about is that Dream had been right, Tubbo and Ranboo had been right.

Wilbur was right.

As he reaches for the door handle, he hesitates for a second too long, and Technoblade catches up to him.

"Tommy, wait," He hears Techno put his mug down and follow him into the hall.

He turns the door knob, swinging the door open and taking a step out onto the porch before he turns around to see Techno waiting behind him. He tilts his head in silent question.

"If you ever need anythin', I'm not far. Literally. Okay?" Technoblade asks hesitantly, as if he's getting used to the familiarity again. Tommy nods quickly. He glances out the door, towards the house Tommy had pointed to earlier, and sees the open window clearly leading into a room with books and messy laundry and posters.

It's very clearly Tommy's bedroom. 

"And be careful climbin' back through your window," Techno's monotone is lifted with amusement, lips twitching into a smile.

Tommy grins back at him, "I'll be fine, Technoblade, I always am," he teases, walking backwards off of Techno's porch and waving as he goes. As soon as he's back onto the stone path, he sees the front door shut as Techno goes back inside, so he lets the forced smile drop.

He rounds the side of Dream's house and cracks his knuckles.

He threw himself out of a moving car, he can climb up one story and get back in through his window. He mutters quietly to himself that he can do this, he's a big man. Plus, he got out, so clearly, it can't be that hard. 

It takes him a, frankly, humiliating amount of effort, but he blames that on the bruises on his thin arms and his fucked up knee. His shoes lose their grip on the panelling of the house and he almost falls four times, but his white-knuckled grip on the water pipe and the trellis help him to throw himself through the window, tumbling over and crashing onto his bedroom floor.

When he finally manages to get through the window and get back to his bedroom, he's heaving for breath and his arms are still shaking with effort. 

He's never been more relieved to throw himself down onto his bed with a heavy sigh. 

That had gone much better than he thought it was going to.

He hated Technoblade for a long time after Wilbur's death; he'd been so angry at anyone and everyone, to be fair, but in all honesty, he'd aimed a lot of it at Techno. Despite that, Technoblade's emails had been one of the main things keeping him going. He would never admit it, not at all, because the emails really had upset him at the time, but now it hits him how much he'd silently appreciated someone reaching out to him, a break from Phil, a break from Dream, just a reminder that someone else remembered he existed, someone else cared.

Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, he wonders if Techno will tell Phil about seeing him.

He assumes they're still in contact, so he doesn't see any reason for Technoblade not to mention it. Realistically, he's not going to hide it for no reason, but the idea still makes his skin crawl. 

Thinking about Phil makes his mind spin and his head ache in the same way that thinking about Wilbur does, or Dream.

At least he can think a little clearer about Technoblade now.

It's another few hours of listening to the same, repetitive music and sleeping just to pass the time before he hears the tell-tale sound of Dream's car pulling up into the driveway, and then the front door swinging open.

Tommy waits with baited breath as he listens to the thumping footsteps climb the stairs. He can tell when Dream's had a bad day at work, though, so he bites his tongue as Dream finally unlocks his door and lets him out of his bedroom. He manages to force out a quiet, "thank you," but he doesn't get a response.

Dream cooks, and doesn't say anything about Tommy sneaking out, so he lets out a final breath of relief that he's gotten away with it.

When Dream calls him to sit down at the dinner table, he's so hungry that he doesn't even have time to stress about upsetting Dream further when he's clearly already angry at something, he just races to take his usual seat and waits with his leg bouncing.

Tommy eats his food so quickly that Dream has to snap at him to slow down. His leg moves restlessly beneath the table, nerves running wild. 

He hates that Dream can just take his food away whenever he feels like it, and he really does try to slow down while he's eating and to stop his leg bouncing, but it doesn't work, even with how many times he's told to stop.

"Stop that," Dream commands.

Tommy tries, he really does, because he can see the way Dream's hands are white-knuckled gripping the cutlery, and the way his teeth are gritted, and he doesn't want to piss of Dream any further. He even eats his dinner one handed and uses the other to press down on his leg harshly to try and stop its movement, but it doesn't work. The image of Dream, hand white-knuckled around a dinner knife, isn't even enough for his restless leg to stop.

He accidentally bounces his leg a little too high, bumping it against the underside of the table. 

He hears the silverware jolt and sees the water in Dream's glass slosh and spill a couple of drops against the table, and Tommy freezes. Dream sets down his cutlery and looks at him with a piercing scowl.

"Go to your room," Dream says coldly.

Tommy looks sadly down at the rest of his dinner, over half of his food still there, stomach rumbling, "but-"

"God, you really do like sticking around where you're not wanted," Dream scoffs loudly, slamming his hands against the table and making the plates jump. 

He flinches back, even though he's sat on the opposite side of the table. He knows how this goes by now. If he walks away now, while Dream is flying off the handle and taking it out on him as usual, he's going to only make it much worse for himself. Last time he'd tried walking away while Dream was shouting, he'd been grabbed by the back of his hair and had his head slammed against a wall.

It's better if he sits there and lets him go on, even if it stings being scolded.

"I mean, the only way your poor brother could get away from you was literally by dying. I bet he wasn't even upset about dying, probably just glad to get away from you. Then, you know, that whole thing with your 'friends' where you kept intruding on them, and they felt too bad to tell you to leave them alone because you're just the kid with the dead brother. Clearly they never liked you, if they left you alone at the first argument. Why can't you get it, Tommy? No one wants to be around you."

He knows what a good friend would do, he knows he's supposed to argue back and defend them, shout and protect his friends' honour, even if they're not friends anymore.

Instead, Tommy clenches his fists and feels his eyes burn, focusing on a stained spot on the tablecloth and trying not to agree with everything Dream's saying.

"Have you never realised that, Tommy? That no one likes being around you?" Dream asks rhetorically, cruel, "There's a reason for that, and I'm trying to help you when I teach you a lesson. Maybe people would actually like you if you listened to the things I'm trying to teach you. But no, you're too stubborn and hot-headed and you won't listen to anyone who isn't yourself. That is why people hate being around you."

"Then why'd you adopt me?" Tommy blurts out.

The moment the words leave his mouth, he swears he feels the temperature in the room drop. A shiver runs down his spine as he watches the switch in Dream's eyes, sees the clench of his fists. 

"What did you just say?" 

"I said, why did you adopt me?" Tommy repeats, because he's in too deep now to get out, and he kind of wants to validate the fact that Dream's wrong, he's just being cruel, and he can prove that by provoking him into hitting him. "If I'm such an awful person that no one can stand to be around, then why did you adopt me? I didn't choose that, Dream, you did, so stop complaining about how you hate being around me! That was your fucking mistake! Not mine!"

Dream stares back at him for one long, long moment before he slumps in on himself, suddenly looking miserable, and Tommy feels his mouth run dry.

This is new.

As unpredictable as Dream is, he's never exactly been shocking. When he's angry, it's possible that either Tommy's going to get beaten or locked in his bedroom and ignored. There's only ever really been two options. The difference is that Tommy never knows what option it's going to be, he can't work it out until it's happening. But this? This is new. 

He's seen Dream upset before, he's seen him furious and pissed, but never seen him hurt like this.

"I tried to help you," Dream whispers brokenly, eyes watering. He looks devastated as he stares back at Tommy. "And you think being adopted by me was a mistake?"

Tommy opens his mouth to reply, but the guilt coiling in his stomach holds back his words.

"I've spent nearly three years raising you, Tommy, and you think so lowly of me?" Dream looks up at him with tears in his eyes, running a hand through his hair. "I've never hurt you, you live here, under my roof, I feed and clothe you, and you still can't appreciate all that I do for you. I think of you like my own son, and you still hate me that much?"

He, honestly, looks pitiful, with his wide, red-rimmed eyes, and the innocent, heartbroken expression across his face. Dream genuinely looks hurt.

Tommy wanted to provoke him into hitting him, just to prove himself right, but instead, his mouth moved faster than his brain, and now he feels sick at the idea that maybe Dream was the one who was right. Clearly, Tommy was selfish and ungrateful, and now he's hurt Dream to the point that he's literally fucking crying.

"Dream, I'm sorry-" he tries to move closer, to take back what he's done, guilt and shame burning heavy in his chest. 

"Don't. You're only going to make it worse," Dream mutters sombrely, a tear running down the side of his face. "Why won't you let me help you, Tommy? Why do you hate me so much?"

Tommy suddenly forgets all the summers he's spent locked in his room, beaten black and blue. He forgets the broken noses and his broken fingers and his broken ribs. 

All he can think about is fuck, Dream was right, because clearly he's being selfish and cruel and unbearable to be around, just as Dream had tried to tell him. And instead of listening, he'd lashed out at the man who was kind enough to adopt him. He feels nauseous, and he swears the room itself is spinning around him because everything seems to tilt on its axis. Tommy's never felt so guilty before, not to the point that his stomach hurt and he suddenly grows dizzy.

"I don't- I can't- Dream," Tommy fumbles with his words, hands clammy and heart beat racing in his ears. 

Dream sighs heavily, dropping his head into his hands and letting out a shaky breath. "Just go to your room. I can't be around you right now, Tommy, I'm sorry. I'm leaving for work early tomorrow morning."

He bites his tongue, lingers in the doorway for a long moment watching Dream's shoulders shake with sobs until the regret sitting in his chest, burning his face red, gets too much, and he turns on his heel and retreats back into the same bedroom he's been locked in all weekend.

Tommy doesn't sleep that night.

He lays in bed, tossing and turning, but every time his eyelids fall shut, he can only see the image of Dream crying because of him, and the guilt makes him nauseous.

This had been what Tubbo and Ranboo were trying to warn him about, he realises with a cold sweat. He's selfish, and he speaks before he thinks, and he takes his problems out on everyone else with no care for the hurt he causes. 

When he leaves for school that morning, he has his head hung in shame.

Tommy doesn't ever know how to feel about school, in all honesty. It's a chance to be away from Dream, at least he doesn't get hit at school, (but Dream was helping him, a small voice whispers in the back of his mind) but he thinks he would actually rather be beaten until he was bleeding or have Dream slam his head into a wall again because somehow, the cold stares and side-eyes he gets from Tubbo and Ranboo are worse.

School sucks, it exhausts him, he can't focus, he has no friends, he never gets any lunch money, so he hides in the bathrooms during lunch time, eating whatever he's managed to find in the cupboards that day, which is usually no more than an apple or a protein bar if he's lucky.

Monday is awful, because he has maths with Tubbo, where he sits right behind him, so he can't focus at all since he's too busy glaring daggers into the back of Tubbo's head. Straight from that, he has to drag himself to geography with Ranboo, where all he can think about is how much Wilbur would've been disappointed by Tommy failing geography, of all things.

Then he has English with Tubbo and Ranboo together, which is maybe the worst part of his week.

His English teacher is nice, he's always liked Mr Nook, but Tubbo and Ranboo are sat together near the back of the class, so they spend the whole lesson giggling and laughing and chatting. Tommy's sat a couple of seats away, but he's still close enough to overhear it, and he feels cold. He misses his friends. 

Maybe if he finally listened to Dream, let him help him instead of pushing back all the time, he would still have them.

Tommy drags his feet walking home.

When he passes Technoblade's house, he considers knocking, going to visit again, asking Techno if he really was such a bad person, but he quickly remembers Dream's words, the claim that people feel too bad telling him to go away because he's just the kid with the dead brother, so he turns away, and walks past to Dream's house.

He goes straight up to his room, waiting to be called down for dinner. The call never comes, and he finally falls into a restless sleep where he's tormented by the memories of everyone he's ever hurt.

Tuesday is marginally better.

In between his Science lesson and his History lesson, he swaps out the library books he'd brought home, picks up a couple more new ones, just in case he gets in trouble and gets locked in his room again. 

After lunch, he has English again.

It's both a curse and a blessing that Mr Nook gives the class a writing assignment, because on one hand, that means Tommy won't have to listen to Tubbo and Ranboo chatting all class, but on the other hand, that means he actually has to try and focus and write. 

Mr Nook puts a photo up on the board, and tells them to write a short story based on the image. 

The photo is of a graveyard.

Tommy can't focus, no matter how hard he tries, and he really does try, because he likes Mr Nook and doesn't want to disappoint him. Instead, though, every time he looks at the graves on screen, all he can imagine is Wilbur's grave, the one that he still hasn't visited, and his mind wanders. 

He wishes he didn't live seven hours away from L'Manberg, because he wants to visit Wilbur's grave.

He wants to leave blue flowers near the headstone and sit cross-legged in the dirt and update him on all that's happened in the last three years. He knows that, if Wilbur was alive, he'd kill Dream for ever hurting Tommy. Aside from his final few months, Wilbur would've never let anyone hurt Tommy. 

But then Wilbur was always the first one to tell Tommy how loud and annoying he was, and sure, he said it more like a positive, a joke that both of them laughed off, but it has a new weight to it now.

He wonders what Wilbur would've thought of Tubbo and Ranboo, if he would've been like Dream and told Tommy that they're bad influences, or if he would've pushed Tommy to hang out with them, to fix things, because he was always going on about how Tommy needed to make friends.

He hears the timer that Mr Nook set ring, and he looks down at the paper.

Aside from his name and todays date scribbled in the corner, it's completely blank. He's written virtually nothing.

When Mr Nook comes around to collect the papers, he hesitates when he comes next to Tommy's desk. Stubbornly, Tommy doesn't look up to meet his gaze, continues staring straight forward blankly, face burning in embarrassment. He pretends he can't see Mr Nook send him a worried look before collecting his blank paper and moving on.

After school ends, Tommy finds that he still can't stop thinking about the photo of that graveyard.

He's never visited Wilbur's grave, doesn't even know what his headstone looks like or what it says. He knows Phil was in charge of that, so he doubts he'd even like what it says, but he wants to see it anyway. 

Tommy decides he's going to do the next best thing.

On his usual walk home, he takes the extra extra long route that loops through the outskirts of town. He passes two farms before he reaches the church he comes up to the steps of. Attached to the church is a graveyard, stretching across the entire field and fenced in with a crumbling stone barrier. 

He's not an idiot, he knows Wilbur isn't buried here, his brothers grave is seven hours away in his hometown, but this is the best he can do.

Tommy walks past the gravestones, weaving in between the rows of headstones, careful not to trip over the flowers or the cards left behind. He listens to Wilbur's iPod play its familiar music, and tries to imagine what he'd even say to Wilbur after so long. 

He completely zones out, eyes watery, walking aimlessly around the field, a scenario building in his mind. He imagines Wilbur's headstone is black, with scrawly, loopy writing etched into it. He imagines himself leaving a bouquet of blue flowers in front of it, before taking off the blue zip-up hoodie and folding it, returning it to his brother. 

He wonders what he'd even be able to bring himself to say.

Would he tell Wilbur about Dream? Would he dare to be honest and tell the truth about how he doesn't know if Dream's abusing him or if he really is teaching him a lesson? Would he tell Wil about how whenever he thinks of Dream, he's so conflicted and confused that his head spins? 

Or would he tell Wilbur about Ranboo and Tubbo? Would he talk about the time they first met, and they'd both selflessly offered half their lunches to him? Would he recount their final argument where they called Tommy selfish and cruel and told him to stop taking out his own problems on others, and the worst part had been that they were right?

Maybe he'd tell Wil about Technoblade, about the emails, about him moving in next door, about his service dog alerting Tommy to a panic attack that he didn't even know he had.

Tommy quickly loses track of time.

Eventually, though, he manages to drag himself back home, eyes red-rimmed and hands trembling at his sides. He hopes Dream had stayed late at work again, because he doesn't actually know how late he's going to be, and he doesn't want to upset Dream again.

Turns out, Dream had actually come home early from work that day to try and fix the argument they'd had on Sunday night, and he was not happy.

"Where the fuck were you?" Dream shouts with wide, furious eyes, hand wrapped tightly around Tommy's upper arm, grip bruising. He ignores Tommy's cry of pain, and continues dragging him down the hall. "Who were you with, Tommy, answer me!"

Tommy opens his mouth, but all he does is make a pained noise and helplessly try and wrench his arm out of Dream's grasp.

It's easy to zone out and block out everything Dream's saying, because everything hurts, and it's much easier to focus on that and not the distant, angry yelling.

His arm is already aching, something that he's sure he made worse by himself because of the way he was struggling against Dream's grip. There's blood dripping from his nose and dribbling down his chin, a result of being slapped as soon as he got through the door. His eyes sting with unshed tears, and his teeth hurt from gritting them.

"Where did you go?" Dream yells, finally letting go of Tommy's arm to throw him down on his bedroom floor.

Tommy makes a wounded sound as he crashes against the floorboards, curling in on himself, pulling his knees to his chest and hurriedly backing away, pushing himself back across the floor until he felt the bed behind his back. 

"I can't believe you, Tommy," he says with a sneer, "I sacrificed so much for you. You know, most people wouldn't even consider adopting a child, especially not one like you. And I still brought you into my home, I raised you, and you sneak out and break curfew?! I've told you before, after school, you come straight home! So where did you go?!"

He cries out, "nowhere!", hunched in on himself and looking up at Dream with fearful eyes.

"You were thirty minutes late home. Thirty minutes. Clearly, you were somewhere," Dream says pointedly, chest heaving as he takes in angry breaths.

"I wasn't-" he starts.

"Don't lie to me, Tommy," Dream cuts in, arms folded over his chest, raising an eyebrow and waiting for a real answer. "Go on, then, tell me the truth. Where were you?"

Tommy takes a long moment to think, mind racing as he runs through all the possibilities. He could tell Dream he had detention, but then if he called the school to verify that, he'd be very quickly proven wrong, and if there was one thing Dream hated, it was lying. He could say he was with Tubbo and Ranboo, but Dream had never liked that and he certainly wouldn't take that well. 

He could be honest, tell Dream about the graveyard and how much he missed Wilbur, but he knows Dream would never believe that, even if it was the truth.

There's only really one person that Tommy can use as an excuse that he might get away with.

Dream scoffs, "Seriously? You can't even come up with a reply? I raised you better than this, Tommy, I can't believe you. You clearly went somewhere after school, and you can't even tell me where you were-?"

"I was visiting our new neighbour! I know him!" Tommy blurts.

There's a long moment where Tommy's bedroom is filled with nothing but silence.

"What?"

"The- the guy who moved in, Technoblade, he's an old family friend," Tommy continues, voice trembling, trying to make up a convincing lie on the spot. "I saw him the other day when he moved in, but I couldn't go out because I was still grounded. I thought I'd stop by after school and that it wouldn't be a problem because he's literally only next door, but I lost track of time," Tommy fumbles over his words, but he thinks the story sounds believable enough.

"You were next door, and you lost track of time," Dream repeats, voice unreadable.

Tommy nods quickly, eyes glassy and wet, "I'm sorry, Dream."

Dream stares back at him with a furrowed brow, and Tommy's ready to bring his arms up to protect his face, because it really looks like he's about to hit him, but instead, he turns around and walks right back out.

That had been the last thing Tommy expected, for Dream to actually leave.

He sits on his bedroom floor, waiting with baited breath. Dream is unpredictable, it's equally possible for him to storm back in than it is possible that he's going to go out.

He drags the back of his hand against the underside of his nose, looking down at the blood smeared on his skin. It's not that bad, considering Dream actually had broken his nose before, this just feels like a bloody nose, thank fuck. He rolls up the sleeve of his t-shirt to see the reddening handprint against his pale skin. This is why he needs to listen to Dream, to learn from him, because if he wasn't so irritating, Dream wouldn't have to hurt him.

Tommy jumps as he hears the front door slam shut, the walls reverberating.

He scrambles to get to his feet, unsteady, his left knee aching again with familiar pain, limping over towards the window to overlook the street. He sees Dream walking out of the house, still visibly angry. 

Tommy watches as he walks down the path, and his heart sinks further as he realises where he's going.

Clambering to climb onto his bed, he goes to the other window, the one on the side of the house, kneeling against his pillows as he reaches out to open it. The fresh February air is freezing cold, but he can see out of it clearer now.

Dream crosses over the path towards Technoblade's house.

He can still see Dream as he raises a fist and knocks on Techno's door. Within an instant, he can hear the familiar barking, and he can't tell which one it is, but it's only another second before Tommy hears the door swing open.

From the way his window is positioned, he can still see Dream clearly, but not Techno.

"Steve, it's okay, stop barking," he hears Technoblade say faintly, and then presumably he turns to Dream, "Can I help you?"

Tommy's heart is thundering against his ribcage, palms sweaty and hands shaking as he leans out the window. He silently begs Techno to cover for him, surely a man who's known him his whole life will tell a little white lie for him. He lost all faith in Techno after Wilbur's death, after he didn't do anything to help Wil in those final few months, but Tommy tries to summon that faith back, crossing his fingers.

"I'm Dream, your new neighbour. I believe you used to know my adoptive son, Tommy?" He sounds polite, calm, and it's strange to hear after being thrown against the floor by him only minutes prior. Usually, Dream doesn't call Tommy his son, only the kid he adopted, the stray, but never his son.

He can tell Dream's putting on a façade for Techno, pretending to play the part of the concerned adoptive father, and he prays Technoblade can see right through it.

Techno takes a moment before he replies, "I still know Tommy. I was a family friend, but we met again recently."

It's hard to read Technoblade from only the tone of his words alone, because his monotone and low voice make it almost impossible. Tommy can't even see him to gauge his body language or facial expressions, so he really can't tell what Techno thinks of Dream, but either way, he's being vague enough that it's helping Tommy's case.

"That's actually what this is about," Dream says remorsefully, and he sounds so friendly that it makes Tommy's head spin.

He can hear the confusion in Techno's voice. "Excuse me?"

"Tommy was actually thirty minutes late home after school today, and he told me he was here, visiting you, and he lost track of time. I hate for this to be our first impression, because clearly you're important to Tommy, but is he telling me the truth?" Dream asks with a frown. There's quiet for a moment, and then he says, softer, soft enough that Tommy has to lean out of the window and strain to hear, "He's a good kid. It's not his fault, but he's become a bit of a compulsive liar in recent years, beyond the normal teenage rebellion amount, so you understand why I have to check his story."

Technoblade sounds polite when he replies, "What do you mean?"

He can see Dream's exhausted expression on his face when he speaks, running a hand through his hair. "I really am sorry for the interrogation, but Tommy's a compulsive liar, and he's not really the most mentally stable at the moment, he has some real bad habits, so I just have to check his story, I'm sure you understand."

Tommy furrows his brow, trying to figure out what habits Dream could even be talking about, because he quite literally does nothing.

He goes straight to school and back, with today's detour being the only exception. He lays in bed, listens to music, does his homework and reads library books. He doesn't even go on the internet. Is Dream talking about his grades?

There's another short beat of silence where Tommy thinks that this is it, Dream's found out he's lying and he's about to storm right back in and beat the shit out of him.

Then Technoblade finally replies, "Yeah, sorry, he was with me. He only came 'round to say hi, but then he was talkin' about his English homework and I offered to help, 'cause I'm an English major. Sorry, I didn't even think to ask if he had permission to stay a little longer."

Holy shit, thank fuck for Technoblade.

Tommy breathes out a heavy sigh of relief as he watches the anger in Dream's body dissipate. He can tell he's believed Techno's story.

"I'm glad you're helping him with his grades, because God knows he could use the help, but just for the future, I'd like to know if he's round here just so I know when to expect him home, if that's okay?" Dream asks kindly, the persona he's putting on far politer than he actually would've been. 

"Yeah, of course, sorry again," Techno apologises.

"If you'd like, actually, I always cook a big meal every Friday, so you're welcome to come over for dinner next week if you're free. It'd give you a chance to talk to Tommy again. And, clearly, you're important to Tommy, so I'd love to get to know you better, I've heard a lot, all good things, I promise," Dream offers with a smile.

Tommy has to bite back a laugh.

That's complete bullshit. Dream rarely even cooks for Tommy unless he's been good, because a majority of days, he either eats what he finds in the cupboards or the fridge, or he's punished so he goes without food at all. 

He knows what Dream really meant by 'give you a chance to talk to Tommy'. He wasn't offering out of the goodness of his heart or a sense of sincerity, letting Tommy connect with his old life, no, what he actually meant in the undertone of his words was 'give me a chance to listen to what you and Tommy talk about'.

Lying prick.

Technoblade sounds awkward and gruff as he responds, "That would be nice," he accepts. Tommy frowns as he realises that Techno's being friendly, he doesn't see anything wrong with Dream's new nice-guy persona. "Um, you're not allergic to dogs, are you? Because Steve, my service dog here, comes with me everywhere, so I'd probably bring him over if that's not gonna be an issue."

"No, no, that's fine, Tommy loves dogs, I'm sure he'd be happy to see Steve," Dream grins back at him, "Well, I should probably go back and apologise for not believing him. I'll see you next Friday at six, yeah?"

"See you then. Goodbye, Dream," Techno says politely.

Tommy hears the door close, and he breathes out a breath he didn't even know he was holding.

He's still at the window as he sees Dream turn and start walking back to the house, hands in his pockets, calmer now. He's watching Dream walk when he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he looks, he realises he can see Technoblade in his kitchen.

Tommy smiles widely at him, giving him a thumbs up. He can never tell Techno how grateful he is that he covered for him, but this is the next best thing.

Techno rolls his eyes and smiles fondly before turning away and disappearing somewhere that Tommy's window couldn't see into. 

Relieved that Dream's believed his lie, Tommy shuts his window once again, pulls the curtains back to their usual position, and sits, cross-legged on his bed, for Dream to come back. It's not long before he hears the front door swing open again.

He knows that Dream told Techno that he was going to go and apologise to him, but he hadn't really been expecting that. At best, he thought that Dream would leave him alone for the night, and they'd talk about it tomorrow before school. 

Instead, though, Dream returns to his room, and somehow, he looks angrier.

"Why didn't you tell me that he moved in next door?" He asks in that calm, furious voice of his. It's one of those fucking trick questions again, and Tommy's breath catches in his throat. "Why have you been going round there? What have you been telling him?"

Tommy doesn't know what to say to that, so he says nothing.

That only seems to set Dream off more, "You told me you wanted nothing to do with your old life! I was kind enough to take you in, Tommy, even with all of your baggage. You lied to me, Tommy. You lied."

"I didn't-" he stutters out.

"Oh, you didn't?" Dream scoffs in disbelief, slamming Tommy's bedroom door shut and walking towards him with clenched fists. "Then why did you say nothing? Why didn't you mention it? And why did you tell me you hadn't gone anywhere? That's still a lie, Tommy. How long has he been here? How long has he been living next door and you said nothing."

"I'm sorry," Tommy tries again. 

He knows he's really fucked up, because out of everything he can do that could piss off Dream, lying is maybe the worst. His heart thunders against his ribcage, thumping rapidly, and he swallows thickly, getting ready to raise his arms and shield himself.

"You lied to me, Tommy."

As Dream raises his fist, Tommy is suddenly really, really fucking glad that he's become an expert in blocking things out.

Chapter Text

When Tommy wakes up on Wednesday morning, it hurts to breathe.

There's an awful, blinding pain in his ribs, and when he first tries to sit up, agony shoots through his chest and he falls right back down against his pillows with a pained noise. His tolerance for dealing with injuries has gotten pretty good over recent years, he'd taped up his own broken finger and set his own broken nose twice, but this familiar ache in his ribs is something that he's sure will always hurt, no matter what. 

As shit as it is, he still has to go to school if he doesn't want to raise any alarm bells.

He takes a deep breath, swings his legs over the side of the bed, socked feet hovering over the floorboards and trembling arms bracing himself against the mattress, and stands.

His knee cries out in its usual protest, but it's only a dull, subtle ache in comparison to the suffering in his ribcage, aching and almost unbearable. Tommy's hands fly up to grab at his chest, but it doesn't really help at all. He shuts his eyes tightly and forces himself to take several breaths. It doesn't stop the pain, but it slows his thundering heart, and he knows he's just going to have to shut his mouth and deal with it. 

Logically, he knows he should go to the school nurse, or ask Dream to take him to the doctors, but he doesn't want to. How would he explain it to them?

Dream had warned him that people wouldn't understand, that he should never tell anyone about his injuries from his lessons, and how he would have to lie to CPS when they do their yearly visits because they would take Tommy away and put him somewhere far, far worse. Tommy doesn't want to go to the doctors, because they'd ask questions he wasn't allowed to answer.

Instead, he starts getting dressed for school.

In the mirror, he spots the damage. Across his chest are an array of mottled hues of green and yellow and purple, bruises stretching across his visible rib cage and staining his pale skin. By now, he's much less affected by the sight of them, but these are nasty enough that he winces when he catches sight of them. The only relief is that nothing appears to be broken. It's nasty and deep, wrapping nearly entirely around his torso, spanning from his stomach up to just below his collarbones, darkening the most just below his ribs, because Tommy had been laying on his side, curled over, and it was the easiest place for Dream to aim his kicks at.

Dream always hurts him in places where it won't be visible, or, on the occasion that he deserves to be hurt somewhere more open, he can cover it with the concealer he was gifted for his birthday.

He's sure he's going to have to use it again, because there are red marks across his face. It's not quite finger-print shaped, and they're a lot, lot lighter than the disgusting display on his chest, but it's probably for the best if he just covers it. It's easier to avoid questions if people don't even realise they're supposed to be asking them. 

Tommy takes longer than usual getting changed, struggling to lift his arms any higher than parallel with his shoulders without pulling on the bruised skin by his ribs, and he has to sit down to tie his shoes because hopping on one foot and bending over was just asking to fall over.

School has never been 'fun', not by any means, but this?

This might actually be worse than any punishment Dream could ever give him.

Walking is the first challenge, considering his knee is aching more than usual, but he's gotten so used to making his way to school while injured that he just bites his tongue and keeps going. He's only a minute or two late, and his form room teacher lets him off for once. 

He has to move slowly through the busy halls, wincing as he gets jostled around and bumped into. Someone accidentally shoulder-checks him as they rush past, and an audible, wounded noise slips from between his lips, but it's loud and crowded enough that no one pays any attention to him and it stays unheard. In History, he's distracted and his pen slips from his hand. He has to chew his lip and squeeze his eyes shut as he leans over to pick it up, flaring up a new round of pain in his chest.

Tommy's just grateful that none of his teachers have noticed, or asked, because literally everything fucking hurts, and he's so hungry that his head is spinning, and if anyone starts questioning him right now, it's fifty-fifty on if he tells them the truth or if he just starts crying.

It's even harder to pay attention in English class than usual when hunger pangs ache deep in his stomach, and every movement leaves him in agony. 

He can hear Tubbo and Ranboo laughing with one another a few tables away, overhearing the happy chatter of other students actually doing the work, and the task of analysing Shakespeare's 'Much Ado About Nothing' play seems like actual torture, so he just drops his head on his desk. 

He doesn't mean to sleep, but he's tired already, and now that Dream's not here, a constant, threatening presence, his exhaustion quickly catches up to him.

There's ages left of class anyway, so it's not like he's going to be caught.

"Tommy?"

He jumps and looks up, blinking rapidly to fend away the sleep to see Mr Nook standing over his desk, staring down at him with big, concerned eyes and a frown.

It takes him a long, long second for his brain to catch up.

"Shit, sorry, I know, analysing Shakespeare-!" Tommy fumbles to find his copy of the play he was supposed to have been reading, knowing that it's somewhere in the pile of stuff he'd been using as a pillow.  His hands are trembling as he digs for the book, and it's not subtle at all. 

When Dream hurts him, it's because he disobeyed and he deserved it, he needed to be taught a lesson. He wonders if Mr Nook will do the same thing to him for not doing his schoolwork.

"Sorry, Mr Nook, I just-"

"Class is over, Tommy," Mr Nook's voice is soft, still patiently standing in front of his desk, hands at his sides, no indication that he's going to hit him, "Everyone's already gone."

Tommy's eyes widen.

Hurriedly, he starts looking around the classroom just to verify, and sure enough, there's not a single person left in the class other than himself. He can hear the bustling noise in the hallway through the door, so at least it seems like class has just ended, and it's the final lesson of the day, so there's no class waiting to come in. Still, knowing that he'd slept through everyone leaving was kind of embarrassing.

"Oh," he blinks, "Oh! Fuck, sorry, I need to go, I'll get out of your way now, sorry-" he apologises frantically, scrambling to grab his bag and immediately wincing.

Tubbo and Ranboo would've had to walk past him to leave the classroom. They would've seen him, school books propped up like a pillow, sleeping on his desk, clearly not bothering to do his work. He knows they were probably laughing about him, mocking how lazy he is, because they're both so smart. Tubbo's probably the smartest Science student that the school has ever had, even if he's a little dangerous with it, and Ranboo's top of the class, and then there was Tommy, sleeping at his desk because he couldn't think clearly and didn't bother to try doing the work. 

Just as he moves to stand, swinging his backpack into his lap and piling his books into it, Mr Nook speaks again, "Actually, could you just stay here for a moment please? I'd like to speak to you."

Tommy freezes.

"I'm really sorry for falling asleep in your class, Mr Nook," he starts, putting on his most sincere voice possible, because, while Mr Nook doesn't really ground people, on the off-chance he does, and Dream finds out, Tommy is fucked. Or, worse, he's disappointed one of the only nice teachers, and he's about to get hit. "I promise I was paying attention, I was! I just- I accidentally fell asleep, it won't happen again!"

Mr Nook frowns. His hands move from his sides, and Tommy violently flinches back.

There's a quiet moment between them when neither of them move, and Mr Nook just stares at him with saddened eyes.

Instead of hitting him like he'd expected, he reaches to take Tommy's English book, flipping it open and flicking through it to find today's work. There's no more than a couple of weak, half-hearted sentences, and the date. 

When he speaks again, his warm voice is gentle. "Tommy, is everything okay?"

He tilts his head, hands twitching at his sides in nervousness. Just because he didn't get hit that time doesn't mean that Mr Nook might change his mind and hurt him. He swallows thickly, forcing his voice to come out stable, "What do you mean?"

"When students fail one or two classes, especially if they're all similar subjects, that usually indicates that they struggle in that particular area. It's not uncommon to see students struggle with Science and Math, but excel in Drama and Art. No one's going to be great at everything, but everyone has their thing, something they're good at," Mr Nook starts cautiously, speaking slowly like he's explaining it to a child. "But, Tommy, there isn't a single class you have anything above a D in."

Tommy looks away as his face reddens, he knows he's stupid, he doesn't need it rubbed in.

"That isn't a sign of a student's intelligence. If someone is struggling in every subject, that's typically a warning sign that there's something much deeper going on, outside of schoolwork," Mr Nook says, even softer, and Tommy looks up, meeting his scrutinising gaze. "Is everything okay, Tommy?"

"I'm fine," he says, but his voice cracks embarrassingly, entirely defeating his point.

"Are you sure?" Mr Nook asks again, pointedly, eyebrows raised. "Even if you don't think it's that serious, or unimportant, I'd like to know anyway. I've noticed you don't spend time with your friends anymore. Is that it? I'm here to help, so please tell me."

Tommy looks away, fidgeting and picking at his nail beds. "No offense, Mr Nook, but I'm not about to drag you into my friendship drama. I don't speak to Tubbo or Ranboo anymore, it's not a big deal."

"Would you like me to speak to them?" He offers kindly.

He blanches, opening and closing his mouth stupidly. "No. No, please do not do that."

"If that's not it, then what is it? Are there problems at home, Tommy? Is there an issue going on at home that's distracting you during school?" Mr Nook is nothing if not determined, apparently, because clearly he's not going to drop it. 

"Everything's fine at home," Tommy says flatly, in that same, rehearsed voice he'd learnt nearly three years ago. "CPS visits once a year, so if you're concerned about my home life, ask them. They'll tell you. It's fine at home."

He's aware that his voice takes on a sharper tone near the end, almost defensive. 

Mr Nook says nothing. 

Tommy sighs. "I appreciate you trying to help, but I think my grades literally just are a sign of my intelligence. I don't understand the work, it can't get more simple than that, big man."

"I looked at your past grades, Tommy," Mr Nook declares stubbornly, "You used to be top of your class for years. It was only right before you transferred here that grades became an issue. I understand you had extenuating circumstances for that school year, so those grades were never counted, but since then, grades have become a problem. You went from straight A's, to not achieving a single A in almost three years. Clearly, you're incredibly smart, and there's something deeper going on, but you need to tell me, Tommy."

"Really, Mr Nook, I'm okay," Tommy insists, not quite meeting his eyes and continually glancing at the clock behind him. He can't be home late, because Dream's already upset with him. 

"Tommy. You're a good kid. But…" he trails off, looking pained. "You're falling asleep in class and not doing your work. If there's nothing going on that's causing you problems, then it's just a matter of you not being bothered to do the work. And I really don't believe that's true, so, please, if there's something going on, you need to tell me," he pleads. 

He stays quiet.

Mr Nook levels him with a miserable expression, not entirely convinced, but reassured enough to back off. "Okay," he sighs.

"I really am sorry about falling asleep in class today though," Tommy apologises, mostly because he's still half-expecting to be hit, overly cautious and prepared to raise his arms and shield himself at any second.

"Well," Mr Nook clears his throat, "I'd like you to bring home your English book, and to do today's work. I'll be checking it over in tomorrow's lesson. Tommy, your past grades make it obvious that you're much more intelligent than you show, but you need to try. You won't get good grades without putting in the effort."

Tommy gathers his books and dumps them unceremoniously in his backpack, not quite meeting his teacher's eyes. "I will."

He can feel Mr Nook's disappointed gaze following him as he leaves the classroom.

The halls are emptier now that he's stayed a few minutes behind, which is partly a relief because he can walk around without being bumped into and his bruised ribs causing too much of an issue, but on the other hand, if the hallways are nearly empty, that means it's been long enough that he's going to be back home late if he doesn't rush.

His walk home is worse than his walk to school.

He spends the entire time clutching at his side, turning Wilbur's music up louder than usual to try and distract himself, but even that stops working quickly and just gives him a headache. His backpack bounces with every step, hitting against his bruised back and making his breath stutter in his throat.

As he gets closer to home, he's breathing heavier and his knee is stinging, his usually subtle limp getting worse the nearer he gets to the street he lives on.

Thankfully, it's not long until he gets home, though he can see Dream's car in the driveway, and all the lights are on, so he takes a moment standing on the porch to collect himself and prepare to get in more trouble, because he's almost certain that he's late.

"Dream?" Tommy calls out as he opens the front door, heavily favouring his right leg and immediately dumping his backpack on the floor. 

The house is silent.

He breathes out a sigh of relief. If Dream was mad, he'd know as soon as he walked through the door. Tommy kicks off his shoes, nudging them to the side and making his way through the hall. He knows Dream's home, the lights are on and his car's here, but the house is quiet.

"Tommy?"

He almost jumps out of his skin as he whirls around, finding Dream standing in the doorway to the kitchen with his brow furrowed.

"Oh my god, I was getting worried, I saw the clock and realised you were late coming home," Dream rushes towards him, not even reacting to the way Tommy flinches back. He reaches his hands out, cradling Tommy's face in his hands momentarily before pulling him into a hug, tight, wrapping his arms around him with enough strength that there's pressure against his bruises, "I was just about to go out looking for you."

"I was that late?" Tommy asks quietly, not quite hugging back but not pulling away either.

Dream doesn't reply, just pulls back and looks down sadly at him, "I was so worried, Tommy" he says, and he sounds sincere. 

This strange concern is almost worse than when he's being hurt, because at least then, he could make sense of everything. He did something wrong, so Dream needed to teach him a lesson, and to teach him that lesson, he needed to be hurt.

"Sorry," he whispers, looking away, "I had to stay behind to speak to Mr Nook, he gave me some extra English work to try and help my grades."

Dream gives him a strange, knowing glance, "And why did he do that?"

Tommy feels like he's been caught, and he knows how Dream hates lying, but he really, really doesn't want to be hurt any more than he already is, so he bites his lip and answers softly, "He said he doesn't want to see me repeat the year, so he's giving me some work now to help me start improving now."

There's no response to that, Dream just keeps staring.

It's unnerving, and Tommy scratches the back of his neck as he pulls out of the hug. "Actually, can I go to Techno's to do it? He can help me."

At that, he actually gets a reaction. Dream rolls his eyes, looking unamused and speaking flatly, "Your grades are basically beyond saving, Tommy. I'm sure Technoblade has better things to do than to help some random, annoying kid he barely knows with his English homework. If you go over there now, you'll only be in his way."

"Techno won't mind, he told me," Tommy insists with clenched fists. 

As the words leave his mouth, a small part of his mind that almost sounds like Wilbur whispers that Techno was probably just lying to be nice. If he goes over there now, he's only going to irritate him.

"Please?" Tommy tries again.

"Fine, fine, whatever," Dream waves him off, brow furrowed and lips tugged into a frown. "I was going to cook us a family dinner tonight, but it's fine. I'll leave your leftovers in the fridge if you don't want to spend time with me. Be home before it's dark, please, or I'll have to come and pick you up, and you know how busy I am."

Tommy isn't even phased by the sad tone in his voice, just beams and says, "Thanks, Dream!"

He swings his backpack back over his shoulders, and rushes back out the door, unbothered by the way his bruised ribs ache with the movement of running down the porch steps.

It's maybe only ten seconds after Dream said he could go that he arrives at Techno's door, a little out of breath, and raises his fist to knock.

There's no reply for a long moment, but there are lights on in the house. Tommy wonders if Dream was right, if Techno glanced out of a window and saw him there and now isn't coming to answer the door because he doesn't want to deal with Tommy annoying him. 

Just as his smile falters and he starts thinking that maybe he should just go home, the door swings open.

Technoblade is in his pyjamas again, a graphic hoodie and patterned pyjama pants, and he looks tired, hair messy and glasses perched on his nose, but when he sees Tommy, his face visibly softens.

"Hello, Technoblade. You know how you're my favourite English Major?" Tommy starts with a nervous smile.

His voice is monotonous when he replies, arms folded over his chest, "I'm the only English Major you know, Tommy. What do you want?" 

"Fine, fine! I was trying to be nice about it, but I need help with my English homework, and you're, like, super smart with English stuff." He realises, standing on Techno's porch with his backpack, that in his hurry to leave the house, he hadn't even put his shoes back on. The February air suddenly feels much colder, even as his face warms in embarrassment. "Please?"

"Tommy, I have things to do," Techno replies, and sure, he sounds gruff, but there's enough fondness in the way his eyes crinkle in amusement that Tommy can see straight through it. "I'm an adult. With work to do. A lot of work to do."

"Please, Technoblade?"

It's almost funny, the way he immediately caves. 

Techno sighs, stepping back and swinging the front door open fully. "Yeah, whatever, fine, come in," he relents. Tommy doesn't hesitate to enter his house, feeling the warmth immediately, considering it's February, and he'd been so excited to see him again he hadn't put on shoes or a jacket. "Go sit at the dining table and I'll come and help you in a minute. I was orderin' pizza anyway, do you want some?"

He smiles knowingly back at him, pulling out a dining chair and sitting down, knees drawn to his chest, and bag chucked onto the table. "Can you get me a Hawiian pizza? With the garlic dip, please."

"That was Wilbur's favourite too. You're both gross," Techno teases fondly, shaking his head, and for some reason, it doesn't piss Tommy off when he talks about Wil like that, not like it does when Dream does it. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe, typing away on his phone.

Tommy huffs. "Stop bullying me and help me with my homework."

"Yeah, yeah, give me a minute," Techno continues typing for a moment before tucking his phone away in his pocket and moving to sit next to him at the table. His laptop is open and sitting abandoned, in the middle of writing something, but he just pushes it away and turns to Tommy. "Okay, pizza won't take long. What did you say you needed my help with?"

"So, basically, I fell asleep in class - accidentally, obviously," he adds, noticing Techno's look , "And Mr Nook, my English teacher, said I won't get in any trouble as long as I do the work at home after school. So, I was kind of lying when I said I needed your help with English homework, because, um, it's technically not homework since I was actually supposed to have it finished by, like, a couple hours ago, but…" Tommy blinks, remembering the point he was trying to make and meeting Techno's eyes, "Please?"

Technoblade exhales, though he doesn't look annoyed, "I already said I'd help, didn't I?"

It's not the most enthusiastic response, but it's better than he'd hoped for, so he digs out the copy of 'Much Ado About Nothing' from the bottom of his bag, "This is the shit he has us reading, Techno. Shakespeare. I don't even know what's going on half of the time, the words are so confusing but it's like I'm the only one who doesn't get it."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, everyone else in my class can follow it pretty easily, no one else is failing like I am. It's alright when Mr Nook reads it out loud, I can understand it a bit more then because he's like a proper theatre kid, so he does all the voices and stuff. But when we have to read the book by ourselves, I can't tell what they're saying, it's really confusing."

Techno is quiet and contemplative for one long moment before he asks, "Have you seen the movie?" 

He blinks. "What?"

"The 'Much Ado About Nothing' movie. It's pretty accurate to the actual play, and it'd probably help you understand what they're sayin' when you can hear the tone of their voices and see their body language," Techno explains. "And whatever words you still don't understand, just ask me, and you can write the definition in the back of the book."

"But we're analysing the book, not the movie," Tommy says with a frown.

Technoblade holds his hands up in surrender, "I'm not holdin' you at gunpoint and forcin' you to watch the movie, I'm just sayin'. It might help you understand the plot better, and then the words might make more sense when you have to go back to readin' the book, 'cause you'll remember what happened in the movie."

He pauses. "It's worth a shot, I guess."

Techno stands from the dining chair, offering a hand to help Tommy up. "Come on then. We'll go sit on the couch instead, and I'll try and find the movie. I think I have the DVD somewhere if we can't."

Immediately, Tommy finds his way into the left corner of the sofa next to Carl, curling up with his knees to his chest again, a subtle way of protecting his aching ribs. Techno sits somewhere in the middle, and whistles to call Steve over from his dog bed.

As Technoblade starts clicking away on the TV remote, he speaks. "Does Dream know you're here?"

"Yes, actually, dickhead. I asked him if it was alright to come over," he grumbles, sharper now at the reminder of Dream, shifting back into the couch and wincing as the zipper of one of the pillows behind him tabs into one of his bruises. He quickly bites his tongue and adjusts how he's sitting.

Of course, though, Techno notices. "Y'alright?" he asks with a frown, watching as Tommy subtly rubs a hand at his irritated side.

"Fine, I think I just pulled something in PE today," Tommy lies.

It's quiet for one long moment as Technoblade tries to find the movie, speaking again, "Did Dream give you a time to get back?"

Not exactly, Tommy thinks bitterly. He was vague as fuck and gave Tommy a half-answer that was probably another trick, and he was almost certainly going to be pissed about him misunderstanding it later.

Instead, he says, "Before dark, big man, so we've got ages."

Techno manages to find the movie, but they need to rent it before they can watch it. Tommy quickly interjects, "If you have to buy it, then don't worry about it. I'm fine just reading the book, I don't have to watch the movie, I'll be fine-"

"Tommy, it's fine, it's, like, $3," Techno laughs warmly and clicks onto 'rent' without a second thought.

He suddenly forgets about the pain blossoming in his chest, because now he just feels warm. It's a weird feeling, one he's not used to, but he feels more loved on his second time seeing Techno than he does nearly three years into living with Dream.

"Thank you," he breathes softly.

Techno looks at him strangely, but whatever he'd picked up on, he doesn't mention, simply shrugs and kicks his feet up as the movie starts. "Here, I'll leave the captions on, so when you're readin' the book, you might recognise readin' the weird Shakespearean shit they're sayin'."

"You have a lot of faith in me, man, I doubt that'll happen," Tommy says, overly conscious of how helpful Technoblade is and how much he must be annoying him with his uselessness, just like Dream said he would be.

"You're a smart kid, of course I have faith in you," Techno says simply.

It's such a little thing, such a tiny sentence, an off-hand comment that he's sure Techno didn't even think about, but it sends a wave of warmth through him, and for a split second, his ribs don't hurt, a smile tugs at his lips, and he feels okay.

Then, of course, it's ruined just as quickly as it starts.

"But, you know I have to ask, where were you yesterday?"

The shame coils in his stomach as he looks away, intently watching the opening credits scene just as an excuse to not meet his eyes. "Out," he says flatly.

"Yeah, I got that part," Technoblade drawls with a raised eyebrow, unamused. "Tommy, I covered for you when Dream turned up at my place. I lied for you. If I find out you were up to something, and-"

"-I wasn't!" Tommy quickly defends himself, before realising that he kind of has to admit what he was doing now. He swallows thickly, "I went for a walk after school, and I forgot to tell Dream where I was going that morning. I have a pretty strict curfew, I have to be home like twenty minutes after school finishes, and my phone's confiscated so I couldn't text him to let him know. I didn't think it'd be a problem."

It's quiet in Techno's living room, aside from the music from the TV and the gentle snoring of the dogs on the couch.

"How do I know you aren't lying to me? Dream said you've been having some… problems with lying," Techno says, and Tommy's immediately irritated again. Of course Dream comes up with the perfect lie that makes him seem untrustworthy, even if Tommy told Techno about being hit, there's no chance of being believed now.

"How do you know he isn't lying to you?" Tommy asks instead.

Technoblade is silent for a moment, considering his words carefully before his calm expression falters. "Wait, you walk to school without a phone?" he asks with a frown, but he only gets a half-hearted shrug in response. "Tommy, it's winter. It gets dark at, like, three."

"I know my way home, I have lived here for nearly three years," Tommy just laughs awkwardly, not used to the visible concern on Techno's face. 

"That's not what I'm worried about," Techno insists.

He smiles, "You're just being dramatic, big man. I lived in the rough part of Pogtopia for, like, a year and I walked to school most days. Plus, Dream said fourteen year olds don't need phones anyway. I was only using it to message my friends and distract myself from schoolwork, so it's not important."

On the screen, the people in the movie start talking, so his attention quickly snaps over to the film, falling silent, but Techno gives him a strange look anyway.

They get forty minutes into the movie before the doorbell rings.

Dread washes over him immediately, heart racing, hands growing clammy. He thinks that Dream's going to come over, pissed, demanding he goes home, and he's probably going to be punished for it later. Tommy doesn't move.

While he's freaking out, Techno simply pauses the movie and goes to answer the door.

When he returns, he's precariously balancing two boxes of absurdly large pizzas, and two cans of drinks. In an instant, Tommy's eyes widened.

"What?" 

"That pizza looks like it'd feed an army, Techno! Look at the size of it! It's bigger than my head!" Tommy says loudly, literally holding up the pizza box to demonstrate it's size. It really isn't that big, only a medium pizza, but to Tommy, who's had his food intake restricted as punishment for years now, the idea of that much food makes his stomach hurt.

Techno rolls his eyes fondly, "Shut up and eat your pizza. It's not even that big. Don't worry if there's leftovers, you can take them home."

It's nice, surprisingly, spending time with Technoblade again after so many years.

Tommy had thought that it was going to be awkward and tense, Techno was still best friends with Phil, who he adamantly hated, and it had been at least three years since they were close, but things slot into their natural place easily. It's different, sure, but still familiar.

He manages to focus a lot more on the movie than he can on the book, and Techno patiently explains all the confusing phrases.

Tommy nearly empties his pizza box, to the point that there's only one slice left and his stomach actually aches, but he doesn't know the next time Dream will allow him to eat. In his punishments, he's rarely allowed dinner, doesn't eat lunch, and breakfast makes him nauseous, so he only survives on whatever he can scrap together in the kitchen, which usually isn't much. Dream doesn't seem worried, though, so Tommy isn't either.

That doesn't make a difference when he's so hungry that his head is spinning, though, so he makes a point to eat as much as he can now, because him and Dream have been really arguing lately, and he doesn't really want to wait for the next chance to eat.

Techno side-eyes him as he leaves the nearly-empty pizza box on the table, but says nothing.

As soon as the movie finishes, they return to the dinner table, to how they were before, with Techno sitting at the chair beside him, his English book and copy of 'Much Ado About Nothing' on the table in front of them.

It's slowly starting to make sense to him now, especially now that he's not so hungry that he's dizzy. Even when they speak in stupid fucking Shakesperean riddles, he can remember the movie, remember how they said it, and, along with Techno's help, he manages to follow along with what's happening.

Technoblade is as patient as ever, making Tommy read the chapter out loud, and then double-checking at the end of each page that he's understanding what's going on. They make notes in his copy of the book, circling words that confuse him and jotting down the definitions at the back. 

On the rare occasions that Tommy asks Dream for help with his homework, he's never as calm as Techno.

Last time Tommy had asked Dream for help with his Maths homework, he'd ended up having a nasty bruise on his cheek because he'd been hit round the face with the calculator as punishment for not understanding the work.

Techno, however, is actually helpful , and Tommy's finally starting to understand the work.

Just as they're nearly done, there's a knock at the door.

Tommy deflates in an instant, shoulders slumping, the pen in his hand stilling. "That's probably Dream," he says miserably. "He said he'd come and get me when I need to go home."

"S'alright, you just finish that, I'll go answer it," Techno offers, pushing back his chair and standing.

"Techno!" Tommy says quickly. Technoblade, having only taken a step or two towards the front door, jumps and turns to face him, a questioning look in his face. "Don't tell him about the pizza, please."

It's a weird request, he knows that, and Techno clearly thinks it too based on the frown that spreads across his face, but he just shrugs and gruffly says, "Alright."

Technically, Dream's punishments were based on him saying that Tommy didn't deserve food at home, but Tommy was at Techno's house, and Techno ordered the food, so surely, that didn't count as him breaking Dream's punishment, though he doubted Dream would see it that way.

Tommy cranes his neck to watch as Techno approaches the front door, tensing up as he unlocks it.

When it swings open, Dream's standing there patiently, and he genuinely doesn't look mad for once. He smiles politely as the door opens.

"Don't worry, it's not another interrogation," Dream jokes with his hands held up in surrender, a light laugh in his voice. The sound drifts down the hallway and makes Tommy's skin crawl. "Just coming to bring Tommy home."

"He's almost done with his work, if you don't mind just waiting a minute? You can come in," Techno offers, taking a step back.

Tommy looks back down at his work, determined not to watch as he hears familiar footsteps approach, scribbling hastily to finish his last sentence.

"Thank you," he hears Dream say, followed by a short pause. "Nice place you've got here, Technoblade, very home-y." It doesn't sound like a compliment when Dream says it. 

He hears the sound of Dream's shoes cross over onto the kitchen tiles, and he rushes to speak first, because if he hears the way that he'd been loudly joking around with Techno only moments before, he wouldn't like it. "Hi, Dream." 

Tommy's speaking softer now, and he really hopes that Techno will notice and it'll raise alarm bells.

"Tommy," Dream greets with a smile, stepping closer and squeezing his shoulder in greeting, but all it does is send a jolt of pain shooting down his chest as the tight grip just prods the bruises. He's sure that it was intentional, and his mood instantly sours further. "How's your homework going?"

"Fine, I'm nearly done," Tommy answers shortly, almost snappily, writing quicker now because the tension is unbearable and he just wants to retreat back to his bedroom.

Dream ignores him, standing behind his chair and talking over his head to Techno, "Sorry about this whole thing," he apologises, but Technoblade only shrugs. "He insisted on coming over here to get you to help him with his homework. I usually would do it, and I even offered, but he got it in his mind that he just had to do it here. He wasn't too much trouble, was he?"

"No, no, Tommy's a good kid," Techno smiles, speaking much more sincerely than Dream. "I wouldn't worry too much. Shakespeare's hard for all kids his age; I know I failed every assignment I had on Shakespeare, and now I'm an English major and an writin' my own books, so y'know, it's really no trouble to help him. Sometimes it just takes that little bit of extra help."

"Or a lot of help, in Tommy's case," Dream jokes with a painfully fake laugh.

Tommy slams his English book shut, clenching his teeth. "I'm finished," he announces, avoiding eye contact as he furiously shoves his belongings back into his bag. 

When he looks back up, he sees Techno watching him from across the table, and he softens.

"Thanks for all your help, Technoblade," Tommy says, specifically because he knows that Techno knows that he only ever gets called his full first name if it's serious, so hopefully he'll pick up on Tommy's sudden change in demeanour and tell him to just stay, shield him from Dream.

Instead, Techno just looks at him strangely, "you're welcome."

"Well, we should be going," Dream says politely, clapping Tommy on the shoulder and making him wince. "Thank you for helping him. I'll see you at dinner on Friday at 6 still, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll see you both then," Techno says, still looking at Tommy and not at Dream. 

When they leave, Dream's hand stays on Tommy's shoulder, equal parts possessive and intentionally trying to irritate his bruises. He steers Tommy, and when they walk out of the house, they're completely silent.

It's only once they're outside that he dares to speak.

The mid-February air is cold and biting, and he visibly shivers, messy hair being blown into his eyes. Dream's hand on his shoulder is burning.

"I didn't cause him any trouble," Tommy promises softly.

"I know you didn't, Tommy, you would never do that on purpose," Dream speaks kindly, gentle, like how he used to be. "You're a good kid, you don't mean to cause problems, but that doesn't mean you don't cause problems. I've already made dinner tonight, so there's nothing for you to have. You don't mind, do you? I can cook you something if you insist, but-"

"No, that's okay, I'm not hungry," Tommy says, because he knows it's the answer Dream wants, and for once, he's not lying.

Thank fuck for Technoblade and his stupidly large pizza.

"Okay, well, I have a massive project at work, and we have to sell to this huge company, like make-or-break-my-career huge, so I have a lot of really important work to do in my office," Dream tells him as they walk up the steps of their porch, and finally, finally, he lets go of Tommy's shoulder to unlock the door. "So?" he prompts as he looks back at Tommy.

"I won't bother you," Tommy speaks, unusually gentle, stepping through the threshold and finally home, back in the warmth.

Dream smiles at him and reaches over to ruffle his hair in the way that Wil used to do. "I know you don't mean to cause trouble, and I'm sure you don't realise it, but you really do. Your grades really are lacking, you need to try harder. Why don't you use this time to catch up on some extra work for class? You can use your computer."

"You broke my computer," Tommy blurts.

It's quiet for a moment as Dream has his back turned, locking the front door again, but when he turns, he's smiling. "Right. Well, try using books then, yeah? The good old fashioned way," he jokes.

"Sure," Tommy agrees half-heartedly.

He still stands there in the hallway, backpack slung over his shoulders, watching as Dream disappears into his office.

Tommy lets out a heavy breath he didn't even know he was holding.

Tommy decides that he's not going to go back to his bedroom if he doesn't have to. Instead, he lays on the couch with his copy of 'Much Ado About Nothing' and reads through the chapters he hadn't paid attention to in class, trying to remember how Techno explained things.

It shouldn't be anything ground-breaking, but Tommy's last three-ish years have been spent in a haze of brain fog, where basically everything was confusing and his head always hurts. He thinks it might have some link to Dream practically starving him, because he used to be really smart, top of his class in most things, but now in class all he can think is three things. His stomach hurts, the work makes no sense, and he would kill someone for a bowl of pasta.

Now, though, with Techno's patience, (and a shit load of pizza), he actually did the work, and he understood it.

On Thursday morning, Tommy is actually excited to go to school.

He manages to grit his teeth and ignore the pain in his ribs as he gets dressed, and even though there's still a dull ache in his stomach, for once, it's because he ate too much too fast and not because he was starving.

Even his walk in the morning isn't filled with as much dread at the thought of going to school as it used to be.

He thinks that maybe, just maybe, if Techno was able to help him with English and if Mr Nook said his work was good, there was some hope for him in his other lessons. Maybe he wasn't as stupid as Dream insisted he was.

His first lesson of the day is History, where he actually manages to get half of the work done, and when his teacher is walking around the classroom observing, she actually fully comes to a stop next to his desk. Her eyes are wide as she leans over his shoulder, looking down at his paper, where he's answered eleven out of the twenty questions on the quiz.

He'd stopped after that, because one day of having actual real food doesn't undo years of being starved, so the brain fog caught up to him quickly, but still, it's a lot more than he usually does.

She asks him to stay back after class.

Tommy is restless for the next fifty minutes left of class, and when he walks up to her desk at the end, his eyes are questioning but his hands are shaking.

She just smiles warmly at him.

"I'm really glad to see you applying yourself, Tommy. It's nice to see you trying," she says sincerely.

The relief on his face is visible as he grins, "Thank you."

"Nine of those answers were correct," she tells him. "I'm very proud of you. Now, go to your next class before you're late," she waves him off with a light laugh and a hand gesture.

Tommy walks out of there feeling lighter.

He thinks that maybe, this is all because Techno believed in him, because he knows that someone cared enough and had the patience to sit down with him and teach him in a different way that he hadn't tried before, and explain Shakespeare, word by word, for nearly three hours.

Or maybe it's because he had his first real meal in months, and he can think a little clearer now he's not surviving on scraps.

Either way, when he gets to English class right after, he beams at Mr Nook the moment he walks in.

When Mr Nook asks them to take out their copies of 'Much Ado About Nothing' and read the next two chapters, he keeps flicking back and forth to the messy definitions that Techno had written in the back of the book for him to help him understand the bullshit they're saying. For once, Tommy's actually able to follow along now, and when he's confused, he thinks back to the movie, tries to recall what happened there, and it helps him understand the plot better. 

He makes a mental reminder to thank Technoblade again once he gets home.

They're asked to write a short essay on the conflict in the last chapter, and Tommy actually manages to write something.

It's not amazing by any means, hardly even anything special, but it's good-ish and it's a hell of a lot better than literally anything else he's done so far in English in nearly three years.

When the bell rings at the end, all of his classmates run out to go and enjoy their break before their next class. Instead of following them to twenty minutes of freedom, Tommy stays behind because he actually has work to show Mr Nook.

Tommy walks over to Mr Nook's desk, English book in hand, and holds it out proudly. "I did it."

He blinks in surprise as he looks up, as if he genuinely hadn't expected Tommy to do the work, and cautiously takes the book, unsure. "You did yesterday's work?" He asks as he flips through dozens of half-blank, half-assed pages of work, and then he arrives at the last two pages, written neatly, and completely full of text. "You did this?"

"I had help, but that's all my work, I promise," Tommy can't stop smiling.

"What happened? It's not that I don't believe you, Tommy, but what- this is good work. What was different this time I asked you?" Mr Nook asks in disbelief, re-reading the pages again and again.

"I asked a friend to help me with it, and he explained it in a way that actually works for me," Tommy says, making another mental reminder to give Techno a hug.

Mr Nook is quiet for a long moment as he reads through the work, and then when he flips to the next page, he finds today's work, which is considerably shorter and not nearly as good, but it's still far better than his usual work. "Tommy this is- this is really good."

Tommy swallows and looks away, face flushing. "Thanks."

"No, seriously. This shows that you do understand the content. You're a smart kid, Tommy, look at what happens when you do the work," Mr Nook says with a beaming smile. "Leave this with me, and I'll grade it before our next lesson, okay?"

"Okay," he nods, still smiling, and then heads out to break.

The rest of his day isn't quite as good, though he does manage to answer one question correctly in Science when his teacher calls on him for the answer, which saves him the embarrassment of being wrong, but the later in the day it gets, the more his newfound clear thinking wears off, especially after lunch, when he watches all the kids in the school sit with their friends and enjoy their food.

He thinks that he prefers when Dream hits him to when Dream takes away his food, because now that he's had a proper meal for the first time in a while, it just reminds him of how hard it is to think when he's hungry.

The last few months have been especially rough between Dream and him, they've never quite argued this much, which is why Dream's punishments have been getting worse and worse recently. Usually, when he restricts breakfast and dinner, he'll still send Tommy to school with lunch, or he'll only restrict food for a couple of days, maybe a few weeks, but never this long. Never months. Tommy's always been lanky, but even he can see that he's far beyond being the healthy level of scrawny.

When he goes home on Thursday, he's much less happy than he was in the morning.

He considers going to Techno's and just telling Dream that he has more work to do, but he's exhausted. There's dinner on Friday night anyway, so he'll see Techno tomorrow, and, as much as he loves Techno, he really can't be bothered to talk to anyone right now.

Tommy decides to just go home.

Dream isn't home until late, he leaves a note saying he'd gone out for a meal with his friends after work, and Tommy isn't allowed to cook in the kitchen unsupervised, especially not if he's having food restricted as punishment.

He ends up rummaging in the cupboards and the fridge until he finds a nearly empty box of cereal. They're out of milk, though, and he knows that Dream won't even think to go grocery shopping if he's gone out for a meal someplace else, so he just decides to have the rest of the cereal, dry, and then go to bed.

There are weird rules when it comes to Dream's lessons. Dream isn't stupid enough to starve him to the point it'll kill him, he says it's a way to teach him to be more grateful for the things Dream provides him, namely, food. Tommy thinks he learnt that the first three days, but it's been months now, and they've been constantly arguing, and he's eating less than a fucking toddler would, so he makes up his mind. 

He wants things to go back to how they used to be, where he would appease Dream with whatever he wanted, act how he wanted, at least, only at home, just because he doesn't know how much longer he can do this for. 

When he wakes up on Friday morning, the only thing he feels is dread.

At school, his performance in class isn't nearly as good. It isn't as bad as it was before, not now that he has the voices of two of his teachers and Techno ringing in his mind, reminding him that he can do it if he just tries, but it's just getting harder to focus again, so by lunch time, he gives up.

He sits in the cafeteria for once, with a library book, at one of the tables at the back.

Tommy finally looks up from the pages he was only half-paying attention to when Tubbo and Ranboo walk in together, both beaming widely and talking animatedly about something, so close that their shoulders were bumping into one another. They're laughing loud enough that his attention is immediately caught, even from tables away.

He thinks that maybe they genuinely didn't see him when they walked in, because he'd had his head down and they weren't looking in his direction.

Now though, if he wants to leave, he has to risk walking right past them.

For once, he's glad when the lunch bell rings.

His lessons after lunch only get worse and worse. He writes nothing in Geography, his final lesson of the day, because all he can think of is the dinner tonight, Techno over at his house, and he's terrified of what Dream's going to say.

The moment that final bell rings, Tommy rushes out of there.

He walks home quicker than he did the day before, despite the dull ache in his ribs still present.

Tommy doesn't know why he's so scared, the other two interactions were fine, but Dream can be insensitive at the best of times, and downright cruel on occasion (but he deserved it, Techno didn't) and he knows that Techno is much more stubborn and much less forgiving than Tommy is. Just the idea of that mixture trying to have a civil dinner is enough to scare him.

Dream gets home from work not long after Tommy gets home, and immediately busies himself in making dinner.

He hovers awkwardly around the kitchen, unsure of what to do, and occasionally helps with little tasks like putting the food scraps in the bin and dumping the dirty dishware in the sink that make Dream smile at him, settling his nerves a little.

Dream isn't giving him a clear task to do, but if he just goes to sit at the table and wait, he's going to get in trouble for being useless and not helping out, but if he continues to linger around the kitchen, he's going to be shouted at for getting in the way. In the end, he decides to try and help by laying out the cutlery at the table.

The moment he hears a knock at the door, he breathes out a sigh of relief.

Techno's here.

"That's probably him, Tommy, can you get the door?" Dream asks in the middle of helping to set the table.

Tommy jumps at the opportunity, thankful that he has the chance to speak to Techno before Dream can twist things. He knows how Dream works, and this will be a chance to warn him.

Clearly, though, his excitement showed on his face too much because Dream quickly changed his mind. "Never mind, I'll do it. Just… lay out the table and sit down. I don't want you ruining this."

With that, he leaves Tommy standing alone in the dining room.

He immediately deflates, setting down the last knife and fork and slumping down in his usual chair.

He can hear the front door open. The dining room is too far to hear anything specific, but he can vaguely hear Dream's voice as he welcomes Techno in, voice polite and light. He scoffs.

"-Just in here, Tommy's already waiting," Dream gets louder as they get closer, and it's only a second before he sees the two of them walk into the dining room. Steve is at Techno's heel, and his tail wags when he sees Tommy.

"Hey, Techno," Tommy says, voice unconsciously going softer now that Dream's in the room simply on instinct. His hands are twitchy under the table, picking at his nails and bouncing his leg, nerves running wild. He kind of hopes that Techno notices, because he doesn't act like this when Dream isn't near.

Steve pads towards him, nudging his leg, not alerting, just greeting. He smiles faintly, leaning over to pet him.

Technoblade stares at him for a moment too long, and Tommy hopes that he's picking up on how different he's acting. He's probably thankful that he's finally being quiet.

"Hi, Tommy," Techno says, equally softly.

"I'll just go and get dinner, I'll only be a moment. Tommy, where are your manners? Could you show our guest where his seat is?" Dream scolds, disappearing through the door to the kitchen before Tommy even has the chance to defend himself.

Tommy swallows thickly, biting his tongue. 

It's pretty obvious where Techno's seat is. There are only three places set out, two opposite one another, and Tommy sat next to Dream's on his side. 

"It's alright, I got it," Technoblade assures him just as Tommy opens his mouth. He takes the seat across from him, Steve laying on the floor by his feet patiently. "Are you okay? You look nervous."

He is nervous. In all honesty, he's fucking terrified.

He doesn't know what game Dream's playing, he can't quite work it out, and he has no clue what Dream's going to say. He's unpredictable, and he hates when Tommy talks about his life before moving to Essempi, so inviting Technoblade for dinner makes no sense to him. Tommy can't figure out the motivation behind it, and it's really, really unnerving.

"Me? No, big man, I'm fine. I just had a test at school today, so my adrenaline's still going a little crazy," Tommy says, and it sounds like a weak excuse even to him.

"How'd you do on your test, Tommy?" Dream asks kindly as he re-enters the room, overhearing the end of the conversation to no one's surprise. He sets down two plates of food, one in front of Techno, the other in front of his own empty spot. "History, wasn't it?" he asks as he retreats back to the kitchen before re-emerging with another plate, for Tommy, this time.

"Fine, I guess," he says half-heartedly, surprised that Dream paid attention enough to know he had a History test, even if it was actually yesterday. "It was better than normal, I was only a few marks off passing."

Tommy looks down at the food, chewing on the inside of his lip. He hates casserole, Dream knows that. The textures are disgusting, and the taste is worse, but he knows he's going to look rude, so he picks up a fork and at least nudges it around a little. He can hear Dream's message, plain and clear. He's still being taught not to be ungrateful, so his food is still being restricted. This is just another way of making sure he doesn't eat dinner, but in a way that makes it look to Techno like he's been fed.

"But you didn't pass?" Dream asks, although he already knows the answer.

He looks visibly embarrassed as he shakes his head.

"Well, that's a disappointment, but not exactly a surprise. Anyway, Technoblade, what brought you out to Essempi? L'Manberg is a long way away, isn't it?" Dream quickly moves on, even as Tommy shrinks down in his chair.

"Oh, uh, I'm an author," Techno answers, looking between them with a strange look in his eyes, "I got signed for my own contact thing with this publishin' agency, and 'cause it's all online, I didn't have to live near the office anymore, and I'd been thinkin' of movin' out of L'Manberg for a while," he answers, though his eyes flick over to Tommy as he speaks, "Thought it'd be better for the dogs to have more space, and it was cheaper to move out here than to get a house in L'Manberg. My old place was real cramped."

"Yeah, you couldn't open the fridge if the kitchen door was open, because the kitchen was so tiny that the doors would hit each other," Tommy adds with a smile, "and-"

"Don't interrupt people while they're speaking, Tommy," Dream scolds gently, like he's telling off a child, before turning back to Techno with a polite smile, as if nothing happened. "Sorry about him, he's a little… overeager."

"No, it's…fine," Techno says cautiously, glancing back at Tommy, whose smile had quickly faded. "But, um, yeah. That's what I do. Writing. I have a series that kind of blew up enough that I can pretty safely stay full-time with it now. What do you do for work, Dream?"

"I'm an architect," Dream replies politely, "Stressful work, but rewarding. Anyway, dealing with this one is a full time job," he nods sideways towards Tommy, laughing as he speaks. It hurts, but what hurts more is Techno laughing along, even as Tommy shrinks down further. Dream does a double-take and looks back at Tommy, "Are you not going to eat your dinner?"

Tommy pushes his food around with his fork before forcing himself to take one small bite, wincing at the texture, feeling as if he was chewing sand. "I'm not that hungry, sorry, Dream."

Technoblade watches as Tommy struggles with chewing and speaks, drawing the attention back to himself. "So, how's Tommy been doin'? I didn't really get the chance to speak to you properly the other day, did I?" Techno asks with another glance towards him. He shakes his head. "I mean, I've heard things from Phil, all good things, but nothing directly from Tommy."

"Well, he's in his teenage rebellion phase," Dream tells him with a tired smile, "Not to be a mood killer, but he's definitely got his issues, don't you, Tommy?" he asks, without waiting for a reply. "School's a big one. His teachers do what they can, but, y'know, it's difficult if you're not… academically smart."

Tommy has to hold his tongue to stop himself responding to that.

"Can't be worse than me when I was a teenager," Techno says, "I was a menace when I was his age, so I can only imagine what Tommy's like." It's clear he doesn't mean it unkindly, but it still stings nonetheless. "I only really calmed down when I was 16, so hopefully he'll be the same."

"He's definitely a handful," Dream says honestly, voice thick with faux kindness, "but that's okay. That's what I signed up for when I adopted him. How long have you known Tommy? I've definitely heard your name a couple of times, but I don't think I ever got the full story."

At that, Techno seems to actually relax, "I was one of Phil's co-workers when I was 16, and he basically became my mentor. I was a super nervous, shy kid, and I didn't have Steve back then, so Phil was helpin' me out all the time. When I quit that job, we stayed friends, and I kept babysittin' for Wil first, then Tommy when he was born. I was visitin' the house nearly every day, really. I'm emancipated and don't stay in contact with my biological family, so those three kind of became my new family. I've known Tommy all his life, we just lost touch when he moved out here."

Tommy tenses at the brief mention of Wilbur's name, but he thinks that Dream didn't pay too much attention to it since Techno brushed over it quickly. 

"I'm sorry to hear that," Dream says, perfectly playing the role of someone polite and normal, as if Tommy's entire chest isn't stained with bruises from only days before. "I did tell him that he was free to call his old friends, but I was under the impression he wanted a new start, so I apologise for not reaching out sooner."

"No, it's okay. After Wilbur's death, Tommy wasn't exactly my biggest fan for a while, so I doubted he would've wanted to hear from me anyway," Techno speaks casually.

He's half-way through taking a sip of water when he hears Techno mention Wilbur, and he immediately chokes, coughing slightly and thumping his chest. Dream hates Tommy talking about his old life, and he especially hates hearing Wilbur's name.

"You okay?" Techno asks him with a frown.

"He's fine," Dream sighs heavily, acting exhausted, "In his little teenage rebellion, he's decided to try and be just like his big brother and he's picked up smoking. I don't even know where he's buying the packs of cigarettes from, but he's always coughing now. Honestly, he's fine."

"I don't smoke?!" Tommy objects with a confused look, slightly raising his voice.

He swore, at ten years old, that he would never touch a cigarette in his life, not after seeing Wilbur's hands tremble when he went too long without one, not after he watched Wilbur choose packets of cigarettes over buying them dinner.

Dream glares back at him, sharp, but he doesn't falter. "Tommy. I've caught you too many times now to pretend you don't smoke," he says flatly before turning to Techno. "He gets in trouble with his school all the time for it, you know? He was suspended once because they found his lighter, and I had to go down there and tell them he wasn't burning things, he was just smoking."

"I didn't even know Wilbur smoked," Techno says with a frown, looking strangely at Tommy.

Tommy clenches his fists, gritting his teeth, "Wil only smoked when he was really stressed. And I don't smoke. At all. "

"Sure, Tommy, whatever you say. Please, just eat your dinner," Dream tells him tiredly, and he honestly sounds exhausted and pitiful. "Sorry, I did try and warn you, he's a compulsive liar. He's gotten a lot worse recently, though."

Techno looks nervously at Tommy, who simply scowls down at his dinner. "You don't need to apologise. I do have one question about that actually. Tommy told me that he hadn't gone to therapy after Wil died and he moved over here? Sorry, bit of a downer, I get it, but I had to ask, especially with the whole 'compulsive liar' thing."

"He- what?" Dream frowns, and sounds sincerely confused. "No, no, he did nearly a year with Doctor Halo, but then he became too much for Doctor Halo to handle, so he got referred to another. He went through three different therapists in only a couple of months, but none of them could deal with him, so he stopped going. I couldn't exactly force him," he sighs heavily, running a hand down his face. "Tommy, why did you lie?"

"I'm not lying, Techno, I didn't go to therapy," Tommy insists sharply, voice raising higher.

He wonders if he's going crazy, because he genuinely feels like he's driving himself insane. He can hear Steve whining from his place on the floor. 

!His last doctor was the one to diagnose him as a Pathological Liar," Dream tells Technoblade without sparing a glance at Tommy. "Poor Doctor Ponk, he was so confused by all of it. Tommy actually got him to believe some of his lies before he realised what was going on. He said he was in the car during the crash, can you believe that? And he had all these crazy conspiracies that Phil wasn't his biological dad, and that he was swapped at birth. He even tried to convince me that the government were tracking him through his phone, but when I didn't believe him, he threw his phone in a lake," Dream shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair, visibly stressed.

"Really?" Techno frowns, looking towards Tommy who only rolls his eyes.

"No!" 

"They said it's normal for him to act out after such a big life change," Dream is really playing the part of a tired, beaten-down parent well, voice sounding heavy, "But now he's smoking and skipping class and I just don't know what else to do."

"I'm right here, you know," Tommy interrupts. He knows Dream's going to be pissed that Tommy's not going along with it, but he's not even teaching Tommy a lesson now, he's just lying to Techno's face. "And none of that is true. At all. I don't smoke, I'm fourteen, that's insane. And I've only ever skipped class once, for my friends birthday, one time, like two years ago."

"Oh, don't even get me started on his friends," Dream says with a bitter laugh, "Terrible influences, both of them."

As much as Tommy doesn't like Tubbo and Ranboo currently, he doesn't think either of them could be bad influences if they tried.

"I was under the impression that he didn't have any friends?" Techno says with a raised eyebrow. He looks towards Tommy with an unreadable expression, it's not quite accusatory, but it's definitely questioning.

Tommy folds his arms and slides down in his seat. "No, I don't. I had an argument with Tubbo and Ranboo. Last year. In October. We haven't spoken since."

"They were around here last week, the three of them hang out all the time," Dream corrects sharply. "They seemed perfectly fine hanging out all weekend," he glances over again at Tommy's untouched plate." Tommy, eat your dinner. Anyway, Technoblade, what was Tommy like before this whole… y'know. What was he like before he turned into a trouble maker?" he asks with a shaky smile.

Tommy hates that Dream's a good liar, because Techno is clearly falling for it.

"He was the clingiest kid ever," Techno starts, sounding fond, "Wouldn't leave me alone whenever I visited. Not that I minded," he adds as Tommy's shoulders slump. "Smart kid, though. Top of all of his classes, basically," he smiles endearingly towards Tommy. "You used to follow me around everywhere. When I'd come visit on my bike, I'd see your little face pressed against the window every time. You used to make me carry you around on my shoulders. Even when you lived with Wil, I'd come and visit, and if I was there when you did your Friday ice cream days, and you'd beg me to come with you two every time."

"Yeah, you were cool back then," Tommy teases familiarly, in the same way they have for years, "That was before I knew better."

Technoblade's lips twitch into a smile, but Dream looks horrified.

"Tommy, apologise, now," he says sternly, cold, before turning to Techno, "God, I'm so sorry about him, he's really not been in a good mood today, don't take it personally."

"It's…fine," Techno sounds more confused than anything.

"Dream, he's not even offended. I've literally known him for fourteen fucking years. You're getting mad over nothing," Tommy complains loudly, throwing his hands up, "This is stupid!"

"You were being rude," Dream tells him simply.

Tommy scoffs, "Oh, fuck off, Dream. He doesn't even care! Look! Techno, did I offend you?"

Techno blinks, "Not really?"

"See! You're being a prick over nothing, Dream. And you've spent this whole fucking time lying while calling me a liar? I don't smoke, I never have, I don't skip class, that was a one time thing, and I'm not even friends with Tubbo and Ranboo anymore! Stop being such a bitch!"

"Tommy, can we not do this right now?" Dream asks tiredly.

Techno looks between the two of them, visibly concerned, but he doesn't say anything.

"Oh, why not? Why, Dream? Do you not want our 'new guest' to know what a dickhead you are? Should we tell him about our old neighbour? The one who lived there before him and moved out because we argued so loudly that they literally fucking moved away?" Tommy shouts, folding his arms. "What is wrong with you, man? Why are you trying to make me look bad?"

"I haven't said anything that wasn't true," Dream speaks softly, gentle, but it only sets him off again.

"Fuck you! I should've stayed with Phil, even that prick would've been better than living in this shithole. You're just lying and trying to make me look crazy! I'm not crazy, Techno, I swear, he's lying! He's fucking lying!"

Steve whines again under the table, and he must be alerting Tommy, but he's paying no attention.

"You just can't be wrong, can you, Tommy? God, you're so much like Wilbur sometimes."

That's what does it.

Tommy doesn't even realise what he's doing until he's suddenly standing, head spinning, blood rushing in his ears, and he's flipping his chair over. It thuds loudly against the floor, crashing against the wooden floorboards, and it's nowhere near Techno, Dream, or Steve, it simply falls backwards. 

He glowers down at Dream, eyes burning in frustration, "Fuck you, don't you dare fucking talk about Wil like that."

Technoblade's eyes are wide as he watches the two of them, but Dream just stares back at him, miserable. 

"Go to your room, please, Tommy," Dream's voice is kind and whispered, and he reaches to put a reassuring hand on Tommy's shoulder. He quickly shrugs it off.

"I wish it had been you in that car instead," he hisses towards Dream.

He clenches his fists and storms out of the room, dinner still barely touched on the table, making a point to stomp up the staircase as loudly as he possibly could.

Tommy can hear their conversation as he walks away, faint and only growing fainter which he's glad for, because Dream's lying through his teeth and it's painful to listen to. 

The moment he reaches his bedroom door, he slams it with unnecessary force.

He's not crazy.

Dream was lying.

He wonders if Techno believed him, or if he simply brushed Tommy off as a compulsive liar, just as Dream had planned.

He knows he's gotten himself in trouble, badly, too, he's definitely going to be taught a lesson after this. He contemplates going back down the stairs and telling Techno the truth directly, recounting the times Dream beat him, the broken nose, his broken finger, the bruises currently on his fucking ribs, and yeah, he deserves it, but it still sucks. Just because he deserves it doesn't mean he has to like it.

Tommy exhales heavily.

His bedroom is dark, the lights are all off, the only light is the remains of sunlight filtering through his windows. There's not much left in his room, to be honest. Most of it gets taken away and then returned with no reason. His walls are mostly bare, aside from his photos of Wilbur, and his desk looks empty without his computer on it. 

He decides he's going to do it, he's going to go and tell Techno everything.

Just as he turns around and opens his door, he hears their voices downstairs and freezes.

He can't see them, he can only hear them speaking, but they sound close-ish, closer than the dining room, so he assumes they're at the bottom of the stairs, near the front door.

"-Tommy's a good kid, he just… struggles," Dream tells Techno softly, hushed, "It's been better since you got there, though."

"If you don't mind me askin', what issues has he been havin'?" Techno asks. "I swear I'm not tryin' to be intrusive, it's just- I've known the kid his whole life, and I know Wilbur had depression, and it's just sad to see Tommy like this too."

"What problems doesn't he have?" Dream shoots back with a humourless laugh, dry. "He started smoking a couple of months ago. He said if Wilbur did it, he could too. He's always hanging out with his friends, and they're such bad influences, they really can't be helping him, and he…" he trails off, and even from upstairs, Tommy can hear him swallow.

It's quiet for a moment, but Techno simply waits.

"He's had problems with eating for a while now. It's kind of been an ongoing thing since he got here, but it's gotten worse recently. He just won't eat, I've tried everything, so did his therapists. I just don't know how else to help him with any of this. I'm hoping it's just a teenage rebellion thing, and he'll grow out of it."

"Please let me know if there's ever anythin' I can do to help him," Techno offers, completely genuine, and completely falling for Dream's bullshit.

Tommy scoffs loudly and slams the door shut again.

Fuck this. 

He has to take a second to breathe before he can think, because he doesn't think he's ever been this frustrated by anything, ever. It's not fair, and Techno's believing it blindly.

He's never touched a cigarette in his life, he swore off it when Wil first started and he was coughing all the time. He hasn't even spoken to Tubbo and Ranboo in months. He doesn't skip class, he doesn't even leave his fucking bedroom, so he can't stay out past curfew in the first place if he doesn't go out at all. 

And the food thing isn't his choice. Dream restricts it to teach him to be more grateful. Wilbur used to always joke that Tommy ate enough to fuel an army, and he would always grin back and say 'I'm growing!'. He went to Technoblade's and had eaten that pizza so quickly that his stomach hurt, purely because Dream had been starving him for so long.

Surely Technoblade will see through it.

He has to.

Tommy decides he'll go to Techno's tomorrow and clear it up, because he refuses to let Techno believe Dream's bullshit. He doesn't care what he has to do, doesn't care how long he stays there trying to convince him, he won't let Dream get away with it.

Chapter Text

The weekend is mostly uneventful.

Tommy can't face Technoblade just yet, still flushing red in both frustration and humiliation as he thinks of all of Dream's bullshit lies, because, however untrue it was, he knew Techno believed it. He had to go and visit him to try and disprove it all, he knew that, but the wound is still a little too fresh to deal with just yet.

What is surprising, though, is that he spends the entire weekend with Dream.

That had been something that didn't really happen anymore, not since a few months after Tommy first moved in. Dream claimed he was always too busy, either with work, or his friends, and Tommy didn't really mind. 

Friday night, not long after the argument, he'd come upstairs, apologetic and gentle.

"I'm really sorry that tonight's dinner didn't go how you expected it to, Tommy," he'd said softly, sitting on the edge of Tommy's bed, words sincere and warm.

Tommy glares at him coldly, arms folded over his chest. His eyes are sharp as he speaks. "That's because you spent the entire fucking time lying to him. I've never been to therapy, Dream. I don't smoke, I don't skip class, I don't hang out with Tubbo and Ranboo- nothing you said was true. All you do is lie!"

Dream stares back at him.

"What are you talking about?" he asks gently, reaching over to rest a hand on the blankets that Tommy was half hidden under.

Tommy blinks, his scowl falters. 

"What?"

"I never said any of that, Toms, are you okay?" Dream's voice is soft and concerned, almost parental in a way it hadn't been in so long. He shifts closer, lifting his hand from the blankets to brush the hair from his face and then press the back of it against Tommy's forehead, feeling for a fever.

"No, you- that's why you're apologising for dinner, because you ruined it by lying," Tommy insists, but doesn't move away from Dream's hand.

"Tommy," Dream says quietly, caring, moving his hands back into his lap. "I came upstairs to apologise because clearly talking about Wilbur had been upsetting you, which is why you had that outburst and stormed upstairs. It's okay, though. Technoblade understands, I spoke to him after you went back to your room."

"No, ' Dream' ," Tommy mocks the softness of his voice, furrowing his brow, heart thundering in his chest. "I came upstairs because you were telling Techno that I smoked and skipped class!"

Dream is quiet for a moment.

"Tommy, that didn't happen."

Tommy feels the coldness wash over him, the shiver down his spine, the ice in his veins. A breath stutters out of him as he clenches his fists so tightly that his palms burn.

It takes thirty minutes of back and forth arguing.

Eventually, Tommy starts doubting himself. There's only so many times he can shout that Dream's lying before he starts thinking that maybe he was being dramatic. Maybe he got so angry that when he got to his room and started thinking about the events of the evening, he was exaggerating it. Maybe he was just misremembering it.

Either way, he decides, he's still going to visit Techno.

Dream sounds genuinely apologetic, squeezing Tommy's hand and promising him that he'll prove that he doesn't think those things about him by taking the weekend to make it up to him.

First, Tommy thinks that, if he was telling the truth, what did he have to 'make up for'? 

Then he tells Dream to go fuck himself.

On Saturday morning, though, Dream wakes him up and tells him he's lifting Tommy's 'house arrest' and he's going to take him out for ice cream.

"I know it's not a Friday, but it's just like how you and Wilbur used to," Dream says with a smile.

That quickly sours the excitement building in Tommy's chest, but he decides that he doesn't have any right to be ungrateful and say he wants to stay home. He thinks that Dream had been so generous, adopting him even though all he's done for his whole life is cause problems for everyone else. Sure, Dream might exaggerate those problems he causes, but Tommy knows he's trouble nonetheless.

Spending the day with Dream is, shockingly, nice.

Dream walks to the ice cream parlour with him, which is entirely new. He's never done that before.

He usually drives and tells Tommy that he'll meet him there, wherever they're going, but now they walk there together , and it's nice. As they walk down their street, they spot Techno walking his dogs, and Dream makes a point of telling Tommy to wave at him. 

At the ice cream parlour, he orders Tommy two scoops, and tells him that because he's been good, he's being more grateful for food now, so he's allowed. Tommy damn near cries when he's handed a cone of two heaping scoops of strawberry ice cream. Dream hasn't been this nice to him in years.

They find one of the tables outside, sitting in the sun and eating ice cream. It's still cold, mid-way through February, but it's still bright. They talk , without arguing, in a way they haven't done in a long time.

Dream asks about Techno, a lot , and Tommy tells him everything he wants to know. 

It's nice to finally be allowed to talk about his life before Essempi, even if Dream looks at him strangely the entire time he speaks about how Techno is practically family, listening intently in a way he never usually does.

After, Dream takes him to the movies.

It's a shitty horror film, and Tommy's never liked horror. Still, he doesn't want to seem ungrateful, so he grits his teeth and deals with it, because it's nice to just spend time with Dream when he's not being hurt.

It's rare for them to do this anymore, they haven't done it in months, but most of Saturday is spent walking in between places because Tommy refuses to get in a car, but Dream doesn't complain once. Tommy can't deal with buses either, he's okay with trains, but everything in Essempi is so close together that it's easier to just walk.

It's on their walk home that Dream notices Tommy's constant wincing.

"Are you alright? You keep holding your side, are you hurt?" Dream asks with a frown, stumbling to a stop to check on him.

Tommy looks at him deadpan and says flatly, "Yes, I'm hurt. My ribs are still bruised from where you beat me."

Dream's face flashes with several emotions in rapid succession before settling on a frown, "I didn't 'beat' you, Tommy, I was teaching you a lesson. Clearly, you've learnt it if you know you deserved it. I'll take a look at it once we get home, alright? I didn't mean to hurt you that badly."

He can't think of a response to that, so he just nods, and keeps walking.

When they get home, Dream leads him into the downstairs bathroom and asks him to sit on the edge of the bathtub and take off his shirt so he can see the damage.

When he does, Dream reacts more than he does.

It looks somehow worse now, only four days later. The purple and black of the bruises have melted down to a disgusting yellow and green combination, splotching his skin. It's spotted with dark red and purples from burst blood vessels. His ribs protrude violently from his stomach, he looks sunken in and on the wrong side of the sickly thin line instead of being scrawny like he used to be. The bruises wrap around his entire chest, from his collarbones down to his hips.

Dream winces and says softly, "That looks like it hurts."

"It does," Tommy tells him honestly. He likes when Dream is like this, caring and apologetic. It's rare. He missed it.

"I'm really sorry Tommy, I didn't mean to hurt you this badly. I just wanted to teach you not to lie to me. You understand, right?" Dream asks, looking up at him with big, sorry eyes, pleading.

"It's fine, Dream, I get it," Tommy reassures him, but he doesn't know how he feels. 

He knows that Tubbo's dad had never hit him, and Ranboo's cousin had never hit him either, that they never got hurt to teach them a lesson. Wilbur never did it, neither did Phil, but clearly with Dream, it works. Maybe it's okay that it only seems to happen to him, because he deserves it. 

Dream's just helping.

His face smooths out at that, "I'm just going to check nothing's broken, okay?" He asks as his warm hands start gently pressing against the worst of the bruising, not enough to actually hurt, and for a moment, Tommy thinks it's nice to be cared for.

Then for the next five minutes, he pokes and prods at each bruise, pushing harshly against his ribs, even as Tommy winces and squeezes his eyes shut. 

"It doesn't seem like you broke anything, it's just a little bruised," Dream tells him, picking up Tommy's shirt from the floor and passing it back to him. "I really am sorry, I didn't want to hurt you, but I didn't have a choice. I wouldn't have done it if you didn't lie to me."

Tommy nods in understanding as he pulls his shirt on, looking down and fidgeting with the hem.

"You won't lie to me anymore, will you?"

"No, Dream," he says quietly, still lying. "I'm sorry too. I just wanted to visit Techno, I didn't think I'd be there so long," he says, despite the fact that his story was completely fabricated. He'd been at the graveyard because he missed Wilbur. Techno just happened to cover for him.

Dream smiles back at him, "Alright, well, how about this? I'll adjust your curfew. As long as you're home thirty minutes after school ends, that's fine. That gives you long enough to visit Techno for a couple of minutes if you want. And, now that I've met him, if you want to go and stay 'round there for a couple of hours, I don't mind. Just ask, I'll probably say yes."

"Thank you, Dream," Tommy grins. 

He ruffles Tommy's hair fondly, "You're welcome, Toms. Hey, why don't you go and get changed into your pyjamas, and we can go and cook dinner together, okay?

It's weird, how abruptly Dream has changed, but Tommy doesn't want to overthink it, he just wants to appreciate it before Dream goes back to hitting him over the littlest things. 

They cook together quietly, leaving the radio on in the kitchen, faintly playing music as Tommy is set to chopping duty. It's nothing exciting, just a way to get him to stand in the corner and not get in Dream's way, but he doesn't care. He doesn't usually get included like this.

They only make pasta.

It's nothing special, but Tommy still beams when Dream tells him to go and sit at the dinner table and wait, that he'll sort everything out as an apology for the bruises on his ribs.

Tommy's smile quickly falters when Dream places a plate in front of him, and it's tiny.

"Is there a problem?" Dream asks, and he sounds sincere, genuinely concerned about the frown flickering on Tommy's face, but he knows better now than to not be grateful.

He bites his tongue and forces the smile back onto his face. "No. Thank you for the dinner, Dream."

It's a complete twist from yesterday's dinner, where Tommy had flipped a chair and stormed out, but now he's sitting smiling, eating peacefully across from Dream.

"Thank you for today. I've had a really nice time," Tommy says quietly, and it's so childish and simple but it's innocent and true. He doesn't want to lose this, not just yet, because he knows eventually he'll go back to arguing with Dream, he always does, but not yet.

"You deserved it, Tommy," Dream says with a smile. "Mr Nook emailed me and said he's very proud of your progress in the last few days."

"Really? He did?" Tommy's eyes light up.

"He did," Dream confirms, "he said you're showing real improvement now that you're seated away from your friends and you're putting in the effort. I think you've earned your phone back."

Tommy sits up a little straighter, "Are you serious?"

"Of course. I'll go and get it after dinner, and you can have it back. If you keep it up, I'll think about buying you a new computer too," Dream smiles back at him. "But that's only if your grades improve in all your classes, not just English."

"Thank you so much, Dream."

Dream waves him off. "I'm in a good mood. Hey, why don't you message those friends of yours and ask if they want to hang out at the weekend? You can get out of the house for a little bit."

Tommy falters. "What, Tubbo and Ranboo? They aren't friends with me anymore, Dream."

"Oh," he says, but he doesn't sound surprised in the slightest, "Why?"

"I was a bit of a dick to them," Tommy admits. "They're both just so smart and so nice, and then next to them I just look like a stupid prick. They couldn't deal with it anymore. I haven't been friends with them since October. We had a big fight. I thought I already told you this?"

Dream is quiet for a moment before saying, "Well, they were bad influences anyway. You don't need them, Tommy. You have me, right? Remember when you used to always say I was your best friend?" He laughs.

Tommy smiles half-heartedly.

He still misses Tubbo and Ranboo, even if it was his own fault that their friendship fell apart. He misses going to school and immediately being pulled into one of Tubbo's side-hugs, or sitting quietly and having a conversation with Ranboo in the back of Geography. School feels much colder now.

"Yeah, you're right I guess," he mutters, unable to summon any enthusiasm into his voice.

"I always am," Dream jokes back.

Tommy's plate is quickly emptied, but he's still hungry. He knows better than to ask for more, though, so he asks to excuse himself instead. He just wants to sleep, because trying to work out an opinion on Dream is giving him a headache.

He had been certain that, during dinner with Technoblade, Dream had been lying about him the entire time. Only to be told that he'd misremembered the entire thing, which he genuinely couldn't figure out if that was true or not. 

Then Dream, who had beaten him to the point that his chest was black and blue, had also taken him out for ice cream, and cooked dinner for him. 

It's all so confusing that it makes his head spin.

Dream gives him a hug before he goes off to bed, and then he lays there for hours without sleeping, staring at the ceiling, trying to wrap his mind around how he could have two completely different opinions on him at the same time.

Sunday is worse.

He's still hungry. His ribs still hurt.

Dream says he's going out with his friends for the day, but when Tommy asks to go to Technoblade's, Dream just laughs. 

"Tommy, he's a grown adult that you barely even know. He's only lived here for like a week, and you've been over there like a million times already. I'm sure he has better things to do on weekends. He's probably going out with his friends too, just leave him alone, okay? Don't get too clingy."

Tommy has to fight to keep a straight face, because the idea of Techno going out with a big group is laughable.

Instead, he nods, and watches Dream drive away.

Maybe Dream was right, he had been over there a lot, Techno was probably bored of him already. He was probably glad to not be bothered by Tommy barging into his house again and eating his food. 

He spends the rest of the day bored out of his mind. 

He's not allowed to cook, but he manages to find enough snacks in the cupboard to last him a few hours, though his stomach still aches. He watches movies on the sofa, and it's lazy, sure, but there's nothing else to do. He's read all his library books, and the only other books are in Dream's office, and he's not allowed in there. Ever.

He can't even go to Techno's, as much as he wants to, because when Dream goes 'out' with his friends, it can range from only an hour or two, to literally all day, so he can't risk sneaking out and getting caught, not when Dream is in a good mood. 

Saturday had things looking up.

Sunday was when reality came crashing back down again.

At the very least, Dream actually had remembered to give him his phone back before leaving that morning, so he spends all day scrolling. 

He looks through his photos first, scrolling through hundreds of ones of him and his friends, lips twitching into a smile when he finds photos of the sleepover when Tubbo ate so many sweets he made himself sick, then outright grinning when he finds the photos of Ranboo, who had fallen off the swing and got his leg tangled in the chains holding up the swing, stuck upside-down.

Then he looks at one's he'd saved from online articles and his friends' Instagram's of Wilbur, because he didn't have any he'd taken himself on this phone. He then, embarrassingly, stalks Phil's Facebook, just looking through the photos he'd posted, to see how he was doing without Tommy there dragging him down. 

Tommy goes to bed early, and falls asleep almost instantly because he's so fucking bored.

He's becoming painfully aware that he doesn't really have many hobbies. He only really reads, sometimes, and that's because he doesn't have a choice of anything else to do. 

Monday is painful.

He's always been conflicted on Mondays, because, for one, it's his first day back at school after spending a weekend alone with Dream, which is a bonus, but then it's also the first day back where he has to struggle through classes and dodge the worried stares of his ex friends.

All he can hear ringing in his ears all day is "Mr Nook emailed me and said he's very proud of your progress in the last few days " nonstop, and the pressure it leaves in his chest is painful. He doesn't feel any smarter, he doesn't feel like he's making progress.

He manages to grit his teeth and deal with school for nearly the entire day.

Tommy changes out his library books for five new ones at break, and then hides in the bathroom cubicles at lunch, scrolling through his phone.

He feels like crying when he hears the bell at the end of science. Not only has he just sat and listened to the teacher praise Tubbo for nearly an hour straight, because of course, Tubbo's top of his class, but now he has to go to his last lesson of the day.

English, with Mr Nook.

Honestly, Tommy's not sure he can face Mr Nook. He should be appreciative of the email he sent to Dream, he clearly meant well, and it left Dream in a good mood, but now he's so terrified and paranoid of going back to failing that he doesn't even want to go to English. 

He reasons that it's better to fail because he didn't turn up to class than it is to fail because he's stupid.

Tommy swings his backpack over his shoulder and bites his tongue as he leaves Science class, getting bumped around in the swarm of students all lingering in the hallway. He really, really can't face Mr Nook right now. 

He walks against the direction of all the students pushing to get to their next classes, and heads for the exit.

He's only skipped classes once before, for Tubbo's birthday years ago, but it's still just as easy now as it was then. 

Since it's only an hour before school ends, the gates are already unlocked, so with his head ducked down and his hands clenching his backpack straps, he walks out of the school building, and then rushes to walk through the open gate leading onto the street.

Tommy knows it's stupid to skip class right after the teacher of that class had praised him for his performance, but he doesn't care. He's not used to his teachers believing in him, or anyone, for that matter, and he doesn't want to disappoint them.

He still has an hour left of school, but instead, he starts walking home.

There's so many things that are upsetting him, lingering in his mind and souring his mood, that he loses track of them all.

He misses Techno, he thinks he might be going crazy because he completely misremembered the dinner on Friday, his knee hurts so bad, and he really can't face Mr Nook right now, so he goes home even though he knows the school has a duty to call home and report his absence to Dream, but at least now he has his phone back, Dream can't worry too much because Tommy has his phone on him, and all he has to do is call.

Still, if he's skipping school, Dream's going to be so angry, but he doesn't care right now.

Before he even realises it, he's back on his street, though his legs have stopped walking almost instinctively. For a second, he thinks that maybe he'd paused because his knee was hurting. Then, he realises he's not in front of his house.

When he looks to the left, he realises he's stopped in front of Technoblade's house.

He doesn't know how he's going to react to seeing Techno again after the disaster that was dinner, where Tommy humiliated himself and then stormed off, but he knows for a fact that he misses him.

So he climbs the steps, knee aching, and lifts his hand to knock rapidly against the door. He's shifting from foot to foot, half in pain, half simply uneasy, because if Dream was to come home early and spot him waiting on Techno's doorstep when he's still supposed to be in school, it'll probably ruin his good mood and he'll go back to being cruel.

There's a long moment of silence.

Tommy thinks that maybe Techno's out, or maybe he looked through the peephole and decided not to answer and ignore him.

Instead, after another lingering moment, the door swings open.

His first thought is that, for once, Technoblade is in real clothes and not in pyjamas. It makes his lips twitch into a smile as he adjusts his backpack on his shoulders, the pounding of his nervous heart immediately slowing when he looks at Techno.

Techno looks back at him with confusion more than anything, "Tommy, what are you-"

But Tommy's already walking past him, ducking under the arm holding the door open and simply letting himself into the house. 

"I'm going to drop out of school," Tommy says happily as he wanders down the hallway.

It takes Technoblade a second to register what just happened, still standing in the doorway, blinking, and then turning around to face him. "Come in," he says sarcastically under his breath, shutting the front door again and trailing after Tommy.

He's found his way into the kitchen, already rummaging through the fridge by the time that Techno walks through the doorway. Fuck Dream's rules about teaching him to be grateful, he's hungry. "I worked it out. If I drop out of school soon, I can spend two months volunteering somewhere to get work experience, and then as soon as I'm 15, I can get a job and start saving up to move out."

It's quiet for a moment.

Techno lingers in the doorway and just watches him, equal parts amused and baffled by Tommy just inviting himself into his house and then raiding his fridge.

Then Tommy reappears around the fridge door, leaning back, face scrunched up. "Techno, your chocolate selection sucks. Who actually eats fruit and nut chocolate? You're so old."

Miraculously, Techno doesn't bristle at that, simply staring at him. 

"Sorry my food isn't to your liking," he drawls, crossing his arms and just watching silently as Tommy digs through his fridge without complaint. "Why do you even want to drop out of school? You're 14, you're not even doin' the real exams yet."

"All the smart genes went to Wil," Tommy comments as he emerges with a plastic box full of cold pasta leftovers. "Hey, can I have this?"

" Now you're askin'?" Techno questions with a raised eyebrow. He scans over Tommy quickly, no doubt looking at how thin he is, before he immediately caves, sighing. "Sure, whatever. Cutlery's in that drawer to your right," he pauses, faltering. "Wait, I thought you used to do well in school? You had straight A's before movin' here. I know you and Dream both said your grades had gotten lower and you were strugglin', but just how low are they?"

Tommy quickly finds a fork and shovels a heaping pile of pasta into his mouth. "Why are you asking me questions while I'm eating? I thought I wasn't supposed to speak with my mouth full."

"You're not," Techno remarks dryly, looking up at him over his glasses, unamused. "You can't dodge the question that easy. Tommy, how low are your grades?"

"Like, mostly D's," he admits quietly in between mouthfuls of pasta. "A couple of E's and an F in Geography. It's not my fault I'm stupid though. I really do try, It's just hard to focus. The only reason I haven't been held back is because I cheat off everyone in exams, so I technically don't fail any classes at the end of the year."

In all honesty, he was failing Geography intentionally to spite Wilbur. He tried to kill him, and Tommy had kept it quiet for years, so fuck him. He'll fail Geography just to piss off his ghost.

Tommy sets down the plastic tub on the counter, still chewing, returning to the fridge and then closing the door again, a can of Dr Pepper in his hands. "Why do you drink this shit? Coke is much better," he grumbles, but cracks it open and starts drinking it anyway.

Technoblade is only half in shock. He knows Tommy well enough now to know that this isn't a surprise, even before he moved in with Dream, he'd been comfortable enough around Techno to help himself to the food in his house, he even slept over at Techno's before, so it's really not all that surprising.

Still, back then he'd been eating Techno's food because he was growing, now, he's doing it because he's starving, and he knows that it must be obvious based on the way he's scoffing down his food.

"What do you mean it's hard to focus?" He asks, deliberately filtering out half of Tommy's blabber.

"Well, that can't be any more explanatory, can it?" Tommy asks rhetorically, then bites into another mouthful of pasta. "This is really good, Techno," he says, at least having the decency to cover his mouth with his hand as he speaks.

Techno can't even be mad that he barged in and started eating his leftovers. He softens immediately, "Glad you're enjoyin' it," he remarks, and it's not even sarcastic this time. "How long has it been hard to focus in school?"

"For a long time, big man. Wil just helped me with my work enough that it didn't get really bad until like, the December before Wilbur died," Tommy shrugs, but clearly he's said something wrong because Techno just stares at him with a furrowed brow. "What? Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have sauce 'round my mouth?"

"No reason," Techno settles on, and his eyes drop to the half empty box of leftovers. "The food isn't goin' anywhere, slow down," he comments jokingly.

Tommy startles, face flushing a little in embarrassment, "Fuck off Tech-no-blade," he enunciates dramatically, "I'm growing, I'm hungry, let me eat in peace, don't be a bitch."

Technoblade looks like he's going to say something to that, but he doesn't. Instead, there's a brief moment before he asks, "Does Dream know you're here?"

Tommy looks at him funny, "Yes?" Though, as hard as he tries, it still comes out sounding more like a question.

Techno sighs, "Do you want to try that again? And sound like you believe it this time?" he asks rhetorically, but Tommy only bites his tongue and looks away. " Tommy ."

"What?"

"You can't keep sneakin' out," Techno stresses, folding his arms tighter over his chest.

He looks at the clock in the kitchen, and wonders if Techno even realises what time it is, that he's still supposed to be in class and technically, he didn't sneak out of his house to see him for once.

"But I'm so bored," Tommy says honestly, whining. "I only just got my phone back, I have no computer, and all I have are the same books I've already read and Wilbur's stupid music, that's it! I can't even leave my room to see my friends, Techno, not that I have any anymore! I have a growing mind, I need to speak to people!"

Half of it's exaggerated, because Tommy did just get new library books to read, and he can leave his room, but he's frustrated and clearly, he makes his point well enough.

Techno stares at him for a long few seconds, "Okay," he relents. "But if you're coming over, Dream needs to know. I'm not havin' him turn up at my door again askin' where you are. I don't care what you tell him, but tell him somethin' at least. Don't just sneak out."

"Even if I tell him you're helping me with my homework again?" Tommy suggests.

Techno sighs, "Sure, tell him that. Do you actually have any work you need help with?" He asks.

Tommy glances up at the clock, and Techno follows his gaze. "Not yet."

"Not yet?" Techno asks, then does a double take at the clock. His face falls. "Tommy. tell me you aren't supposed to be in class right now."

"I'm not supposed to be in class right now?" Tommy tries, but his lips tug into a smile against his will.

"Tommy! This is what Dream was talkin' about, isn't it? School is important, Tommy, it doesn't matter if you're good at it, but you still need to try. You can't just skip class because you don't feel like goin'," Techno sounds genuinely disappointed, moving out of the doorway and walking to stand across from Tommy, leaning against the wall and levelling him with a flat stare.

Tommy's smile falters and his stomach burns with guilt. He places the empty plastic tub onto the counter and takes a long sip from the can, looking down, suddenly feeling sick. 

"I know," he says quietly, half expecting Techno to raise a hand and hit him. "But I couldn't do it today, Techno. And Dream was lying about nearly all of that stuff. This is only the second time I've skipped class since I moved here."

Techno looks at him oddly, eyebrow furrowed, peering at him over his glasses. "What do you mean 'Dream was lying'?"

"I mean I don't smoke, never have, never will. I don't skip class, aside from, well, now. But Tubbo and Ranboo? They're not bad influences, and they're not my friends anymore," Tommy sighs. " And I never got therapy. He was lying about all of it. I swear, I'm telling you the truth, Techno."

"You know why I have to be careful believing you though, right?" Techno explains softly, voice gentle now.

Tommy blinks back at him, leaning his back against the door of the fridge.

"I've been told you're a pathological liar by someone who has no reason to lie to me. I'm not sayin' I don't believe you," Techno adds quickly as he sees Tommy's face fall, "I'm just sayin' I need to be careful with what I believe."

"How about you don't believe me, but you don't believe Dream either?" Tommy suggests. "You just…make up your own mind, because I get why you don't believe me, it sucks, but I get it. I'm a problem kid, I'm failing class, I seem like I could be a pathological liar, and Dream seems perfect, but you shouldn't believe him either," he insists.

Techno pauses for a long moment.

His eyes visibly drop to the plastic tub that once contained leftovers, now sitting empty on the counter top, no doubt thinking about Dream's comment about Tommy not eating, a comment that had been disproved in front of him several times now.

"Sure," he breathes, "But you really should work on gettin' some friends though. It's a bit sad that you're skippin' class to come sit in my kitchen and steal my food."

"Hey, I only came here because Steve clearly missed me," Tommy comments, looking around for the dogs and spotting them out the window, both of them running and playing across the lawn. "And Carl. I'm here for the dogs, not you," he remarks, moving to watch them in the garden.

"You can let them in, if you wanna see them," Techno says with a smile.

The moment Tommy unlocks the door, Techno whistles to grab the attention of both of the dogs, and the second they spot Tommy, they come running.

Steve is first, being younger and faster, excitedly jumping up at Tommy and pawing at him in greeting. Carl isn't far behind, sitting by his feet and panting, tongue hanging out of his mouth as he waits to be pet.

Tommy laughs loudly, louder than he has in a while, shutting the door and quickly sitting down, cross legged on the cold tiles, back against the counter. The dogs fawn over him almost immediately, Carl licking his face, and Steve trying to sit on his lap, despite him being a pretty big dog.

"See? They missed me, Techno, how could I deprive them of my presence?" Tommy asks with a grin, both of the dogs now laying over his lap the best they can. He runs his hands through their fur as he speaks. "Who needs friends when you have dogs?"

Techno's deadpan face fractures as his lips twitch. "Yeah, they sure did miss you," he says cryptically. "But really. Get some friends, man, this is just sad. They're not even your dogs."

"Oh, fuck you, Techno! It's not my fault my friends don't like me anymore," Tommy grumbles with a pout, though his voice doesn't have any malice in it, and he's still sat, half buried beneath the dogs, so he loses any sense of intimidation he may have had.

"Are you serious? Tommy, you're fourteen. Friends argue. They also make up. You're teenagers, you always argue. I can't tell you how many times me and Phil have fought. You just need to try and fix it, it's really not that hard," Techno huffs. "What did you even argue about?"

"I was being a bad friend, it actually was my fault, I was lying about that," Tommy admits, "But they just don't get it!"

Techno tilts his head at him, looking down at him sitting on the floor, "Why don't they get it?"

Tommy thinks it over for a moment, wondering just how much he can say without outing Dream's lessons, or revealing the truth about Wilbur's crash. "I haven't been telling them the truth."

"And you expect me to think you're not a liar? Tommy, I'm not a mind reader, either tell me, or change the topic," Techno tries at a joke, but it falls flat. Tommy's still staring blankly down at the dogs, avoiding eye contact. He changes tactics, softening and moving to sit down on the floor of his kitchen across from him. "Tommy. What's goin' on?"

"When I moved here, I didn't tell them about Wilbur," he blurts. "I didn't want to be known as the kid with the dead brother, so Dream told my teachers, 'cause they had to know, but none of the kids in my school new. My friends didn't either," he trails off, voice sounding much heavier now.

Techno's gaze hardens. "They weren't nasty to you when you told them, were they? Because I'm not above fightin' two fourteen year olds for you."

Tommy smiles sadly, swallowing, "No, um, actually, I just kind of… didn't tell them?"

The kitchen falls silent.

"What?" Techno breathes.

"I didn't want them to treat me any differently. I don't want to be looked at with pity, Techno, I got enough of that from my fucking teachers. I just wanted to be normal, and with them, I could be. They didn't treat me like the kid with the dead brother, because they didn't know. Then it just kind of became easier to pretend Wil never happened," he admits with a noise that sounds like it had been punched out of him.

The shame burns his stomach as he speaks, but if he trusts anyone to know, he trusts Techno.

"I know, it's horrible to Wilbur, he was my brother, but sometimes I think it would be easier if all of that just… didn't happen."

"Tommy," Technoblade says sadly.

"Shut up, stop looking at me like that," Tommy mutters sharply. "It was in October. I was being miserable, feeling sorry for myself, all that bullshit. They were talking about their families, and I was being too snappy because I was jealous that they still had families and all I had was Dream. They told me to stop taking out my shit on them," he laughs emptily. "They had a point, Techno. It wasn't fair on them, but I was in too deep to tell them the truth.

Techno doesn't speak, but with the way he has his legs stretched out on the floor, he moves one to knock his leg against Tommy's encouragingly, silently.

"I asked if they wanted me to leave them alone, and they said yes. We haven't spoken since," Tommy looks down at the dogs, running his hands through their fur.

"You know it's not too late to tell them, right?" Techno asks gently.

Tommy looks up at him, meeting his eyes with a glossed over gaze.

"I didn't tell Phil about my family until I'd known him for nearly a year. Not quite as long as you, granted, but still. I get it. It was easier to pretend I had a happy family and nothing was wrong," Techno starts. 

Tommy doesn't hear him talk about his family much, so he stays quiet. 

"I only told him I was emancipated when he asked if I wanted to bring my parents along to a celebratory dinner. It took another six months before I told him why I was emancipated."

Tommy feels his chest tighten. "Really?"

Techno smiles sadly at him, pushing a strand of pink hair from his face. "Yeah. It was nothin' too bad, they were just neglectful and shitty. But I got emancipated when I was a little older than you, got my own place funded by the government, but I was committed to gettin' a job and earnin' it all myself. I didn't want Phil to pity me either. so I thought it was easier to just not tell him."

"Was it?"

"Honestly? For a while, yeah. He didn't ask, so I didn't have to lie. But then when I started babysittin' for Wil, he kept askin' if my parents were alright with it. He asked to speak to them once. I, uh, actually paid one of my school friends to pretend to be my mom on the phone," Techno laughs. "It just ended up with me havin' to lie all the time, or to avoid questions, so I realized I had to tell him."

Tommy thinks to Tubbo and Ranboo, if they would understand Tommy's lies about his family. A few months ago, he would've said yes with certainty. Now, though, he's not so sure.

"What did he say?"

"He laughed," Techno says with a smile. "He told me I was bein' stupid, I had no reason to lie, because he wouldn't have looked at me any differently. He's not in contact with his parents either, or, your grandparents, I guess. He said I had no reason to lie, but he understood why I did anyway," Techno trails off, looking at Tommy seriously. "Do you understand what I'm sayin?"

"I think so," Tommy whispers.

"You can tell them, Tommy. It's not too late. They won't look at you any differently," Techno promises, "And if they do? Well… I have enough money to bail you out of jail," he jokes, which makes Tommy's blank face twitch in amusement.

"I'll speak to them tomorrow, I think. I really miss them," Tommy admits quietly. "Thank you, Techno."

Techno tilts his head at him curiously. "S'alright, Tommy. You know I'm always here for you, yeah?"

"I know," Tommy smiles at him as he thinks of the bruises on his ribs. He debates telling him the truth for a second, the whole truth, Dream included, but then he thinks twice. Dream's ruined any chance of Techno believing him now that he's convinced Tommy's a pathological liar.

Before he leaves Techno's that day, Techno finally gives him his number, and promises that he can call him if it goes badly, or even if he just wants to talk to someone. Tommy wants to throw himself forward and hug him.

Instead, he grins widely and thanks him, though his voice wavers enough that he knows Techno can see straight through him.

He keeps a careful eye on the time, calculates what time he'd usually be home by, and then heads back then.

He's expecting Dream to be furious, to have gotten a call from the school, and for Tommy to probably be beaten again. He'd deserve it too, he shouldn't have skipped class, he knows that.

What actually happens is that, when he gets home, Dream's only just got through the door, and he smiles at him and just asks what he wants for dinner.

For a moment, Tommy can't stop thinking about why Mr Nook didn't call Dream and tell him about skipping class. 

He decides he doesn't want to think about it.

Dream tells him about work, about how they have a new client talking about plans for building a huge home, and how it's a pretty big job so he's doing more hours. Tommy tries not to smile at that. 

He asks about school.

Tommy doesn't know what to say. He talks about the book he's reading instead, but Dream quickly cuts him off and tells him he doesn't care.

He's allowed dinner tonight, but it's only a tiny plate again. Dream says he's still learning to be grateful, and until he proves that he isn't being ungrateful, he won't be allowed proper meals. He says it'll teach him. 

Tommy's too tired to argue.

By the time dinner's over, Dream tells him he's been snappy and grumpy tonight, and his phone is being confiscated again.

It makes no sense to him, he doesn't think he's acting that differently, and he literally only just got his phone back, but he sighs and just hands it over. Dream promises he'll get it back once he stops being so irritable. All Tommy can do is apologise quietly.

He lays in bed that night wondering how tomorrow will go with Tubbo and Ranboo. He doesn't know how much he should say. Does he tell them about Wilbur and leave it at that? Or will he finally admit to someone that he was in the car too?

Or, does he go as far as to tell them about Dream, to show them the bruises still staining his skin?

He quickly crosses that one out in his mind. Dream is teaching him, he's being nice, he took Tommy out for ice cream, he doesn't want to leave .

When he wakes up on Tuesday morning, he feels nauseous.

He misses Tubbo and Ranboo desperately, he's not stupid, he knows that, but he's still terrified. 

Tubbo used to hug him all the time, he was so affectionate, he would walk along, holding Tommy and Ranboo's hands, he would pull him down into side hugs all the time, he would walk home with him practically pressed against his side. Ranboo used to speak to him so softly, in a way he only ever seemed to do with his friends. It was something he didn't realise how much he missed until it was gone.

He knows logically all he has to do is apologise, and he can have that back, but the idea still petrifies him.

Tommy can't focus all morning, he sits out in PE, as usual, but he spends the entire time zoned out and thinking. Then he breaks a pencil accidentally in History because he'd started worrying so much that his hands clenched into fists, and his pencil was caught in the crossfire.

He decides at lunchtime, he'll do it.

He sits at the lunch table not far from them, wringing his hands and chewing his lip and trying to work up the courage. He's been watching the clock the entire lunch hour, trying to psych himself up for it.

There's only a minute or two left now, so he has to do it. He has to, or he'll never do it, he knows that.

He manages to drag himself to his feet, a pit in his stomach, head spinning, but Techno's voice in his head, the memory of the encouraging smile he got yesterday. 

He needs to do it, he misses them so badly. 

When he approaches their table, he's visibly nervous. He walks over on wobbly legs, stumbling to a stop in front of them and opening and closing his mouth uselessly. His breath stutters in his chest and his shaking hands are clenched into fists.

Ranboo looks up at him questioningly, eyes gentle. Tubbo is sat against his side, but he's dedicated to staring a hole into the table, refusing to even look at Tommy.

"Hi," Tommy starts, voice raspy and wavering. "I just wanted to say I'm sorry. About everything. Can we... Can we talk, please?" 

He sounds desperate and sad, and it's completely unintentional.

Ranboo nudges Tubbo, and they share a look. 

He can't read them anymore, and it stings to see them clearly communicating something silently while he just stands there, excluded, but clearly, whatever it was, it worked. Tubbo's shoulders slump, and he sighs heavily. 

He nods sharply.

"Are you free after school today?" Ranboo asks.

Tommy isn't.

Tommy is never free after school any day, because Dream extended his curfew by ten minutes, but that won't be enough to explain all of it. He can't say no, though, because he can see the hopeful smile on Ranboo's face, the softening anger in Tubbo's eyes, and he doesn't want to let them down.

He needs to prove himself, needs to prove to them he can be a good friend, so he nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm free today."

Tubbo finally looks up and meets his eyes, "Meet us by the front, okay? We can talk then," he looks Tommy up and down.

Yeah, Tommy knows he looks pitiful, bony hands shaking with nerves, hair falling into his face, eyebags dark, face sunken in, but Tubbo doesn't have to make his reaction so visible .

The lunch bell rings then, and Ranboo gives Tommy a half encouraging smile before they head off for class in separate directions.

If it was hard to focus in the morning, it's so much worse in the afternoon.

His leg bounces under the desk, and he writes absolutely nothing in his last two classes. He's just glad he doesn't have English, because the only thing that could make this worse now is mr nook. 

When the final bell rings, he doesn't think he's ever walked so fast.

Tommy waits at the entrance for five minutes and wonders if he's being pranked. 

He thinks they've probably tricked him, they're standing at a distance laughing at him looking like an idiot, just waiting there as the other kids leave. 

His phone is confiscated again, so he can't even message Dream and say he'll be a little late, and it's just as he starts wondering if it's even worth getting in trouble with Dream for this, they show up.

"What did you want to talk about?" Tubbo asks immediately, hands shoved in his pockets and eyes hard. His anger is clearly still there, but it's subsiding now. He doesn't look as pissed off anymore, he more so just looks sad when he looks at him.

Tommy swallows, tightening his grip on his backpack like a lifeline. "I wanted to tell you guys the truth. You… you both deserve to know why I've been such a bad friend. It's not really something I can say here, though," he looks nervously around at the sea of students, all leaving, while the three of them stand there.

Ranboo and Tubbo share another look.

"We can go to the park across the street if you want. Neither of us have to be home any time soon, so you can take your time," Ranboo says gently. Tommy knew Ranboo didn't hold grudges for long, but Jesus, he hasn't even apologised properly yet.

Tommy nods shakily, and they start manoeuvring through the sea of kids trying to get home.

The park is literally no more than a minute's walk away, but it's the most painfully silent minute of Tommy's life. He's just glad that the other students around are chatting loud enough to cover up the tense silence.

The park is fairly empty, considering school just ended, but it's a Tuesday, so not many kids are hanging about. 

They find a spot on the grass that isn't far from the entrance, but is enough distance away from the swing set that no one can overhear.

Tommy sits with his legs folded, backpack in his lap, looking down and fidgeting with the zip to avoid meeting their eyes.  "I haven't been telling you guys the truth," he starts, then immediately winces. "No, that sounds bad. Shit. I mean- I haven't been telling you guys the whole truth," he clarifies, but it doesn't sound much better.

Tubbo sits across from him, closer to Ranboo than he is to him. He raises an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"

"You know how you guys used to joke all the time that I was in witness protection with the way that I would avoid speaking about my family all the time?" 

"You actually are in witness protection?" Ranboo asks sincerely, eyes wide.

Tommy actually smiles, but he can't quite manage a laugh. "No big man, it's- uh, okay. Um. I promise I'm not being a dick when I say this, but I just kind of need to say it before I back out, so please no interruptions?"

He honestly isn't trying to be rude, and clearly they both understand, because neither of them look annoyed and they stay quiet.

"Okay, well, when I said the reason I was adopted is just because I was put up for adoption, that wasn't the whole story. I mean, obviously it's part of it, but like, it's kind of heavy, and I'm not just saying this to make you guys feel bad for me or whatever, I swear, that's not why I'm saying it now, I just think you deserve to know why I've been such a dick.."

They don't reply, just look at him curiously.

He takes in a shaky breath, but when he tries to speak, the words don't come out, he just makes a breathy noise.

Ranboo catches his gaze and smiles softly, nodding encouragingly.

Tommy swallows again, looking away, trying again. "My mum died when I was born, which left my dad, Phil , as a single father. It was alright for a few years, but when I was seven, I moved in with my older brother, Wilbur," he forces out, voice shaking already.

He can see the unsaid questions in their eyes. He's never mentioned a brother before, so he understands their confusion.

Still, it just reminds him how much he's been hiding from them this whole time.

"Phil was kind of neglectful. He was never home, always working, all of that, so when Wil turned 18, he took me and moved out. It wasn't anything official, but we got our names changed, we picked our own surname. He really struggled, because it was just him and me, we cut contact with our dad. We had our own flat in L'Manberg. I loved living with him."

Tommy takes another breath, trying to speak again, but he chokes. Tubbo reaches over and puts a hand on his knee encouragingly. 

He looks up to meet his eyes, and Tubbo nods. 

"Wil was diagnosed with depression not that long after we moved out. He lost both his jobs because he wouldn't leave his bed, and I tried to help, but he kept threatening to give me back to our dad if I told anyone. He was too proud to ask for help, but he went to the doctors and got it sorted eventually. When I was eleven, though, it got really bad."

He pauses for a second, looking down at his lap. Tubbo's hand squeezes his knee again. 

"He got really bad then, like, I was actually scared of him levels of bad. He stopped taking his meds, and kept making all these jokes about killing himself, and I told him he needed help again. I told him I was going to call our dad to come and help, and he told me," his voice breaks, but he clenches his fists and pushes on. "He told me if I did, he'd kill himself before our dad even answered the phone. If he even answered."

At that, Ranboo reaches over too, gently lifting one of Tommy's hands and interlacing their fingers together, holding his hand tightly.

"I didn't know what to do. I was eleven, and he was still my big brother. I didn't want to upset him," he inhales, and closes his eyes for this. "We went to one of my parents' evenings in January. My grades were better than they are now, but they were pretty shit. One of my teachers suggested that I should see a counsellor, and Wilbur flipped his shit. He dragged me out of the meeting by my arm. He was still angry when he got in the car to drive us home."

Tommy can't breathe. His chest hurts. 

But he can feel the warm hands of his friends, Ranboo's hand in his, Tubbo's hand on his leg, and he knows they deserve the truth.

"He was angry. Really angry. I'd never seen him like that before then. It was raining, and I was scared of him. He kept rambling, he sounded crazy. He was speeding, and it was dark, so I told him to pull over and let me out of the car. He said he was- he said sorry," Tommy's voice breaks into a whisper, hoarse. "I thought it was done. But he put his foot on the gas and started to speed towards a tree. I tried to stop him, I really, really tried."

He can't finish speaking.

It's quiet for a moment, aside from the faint sounds of kids in the park playing and birds chirping above them. 

"What happened?" Tubbo asks softly.

"I had to jump out of the car. He crashed. I called the ambulance," he blinks, and realises there's a tear falling down his cheek. "He didn't make it. The doctors said there was no chance. They called out dad, and I went back with him for a little while. At his funeral, one of Wil's old co-workers offered to adopt me. My dad wasn't really in the place to argue. Wilbur died at the end of January. I moved here in March."

He doesn't think he remembers the last time he called Phil 'dad' out loud.

"Dream… isn't a very good guardian," he admits with a frown. "That sounds worse than it is. He doesn't-  he doesn't abuse me or anything, but I'm not exactly easy to be around, if you couldn't tell from my dad giving me up, and my brother trying to kill me," he laughs dryly. "So I'm always on edge, trying not to upset him, which is kind of why I'm like this. He doesn't like me talking about Wilbur. And, I- no one-"

His voice won't work , his hand is clutching the bag with such a tight grip that it's white knuckled and shaking.

He can feel Ranboo shift a little closer, and gently take the bag out of his lap, putting it on the grass next to him. Instead, he squeezes Tommy's hand in silent encouragement. Tommy squeezes back.

"No one?" Ranboo prompts.

"No one else knows I was in the car before the crash," his voice comes out in a whisper. 

He can't look at them.

"I told them all I walked home. Wilbur crashed, and I found him after. I couldn't tell them the truth, because they all loved him so much and I just piss everyone off, so I don't think they'd believe me in the first place."

He swallows, aware he's rambling, but entirely unable to stop himself now.

"They don't even know he killed himself. They think he lost control of the car in the rain. I got this from the crash," Tommy brushes his hair from his face, revealing the scarred skin on his forehead, along with the faint dots from old stitches around it. 

He'd always said it was from an accident as a kid, he just never specified that it was a car accident.

"And my knee. That's what fucked up my knee. I can't tell Dream about it, and it's just kind of a lot to keep to myself for so long. It's messing with my grades and it's messing with my head and it's just getting to me a bit. I promise I don't mean to be so rude sometimes, I really am trying. I want to be a good friend, I don't want to keep taking this out on other people, I swear I'm trying ."

Tommy finally breaks at that last word, wrenching his hand from Ranboo's grip and pulling his leg away from Tubbo's hand. He draws his knees to his chest and drops his head on his kneecaps, unable to stop the tears. It's quiet, all he makes is hiccupping noises and desperate breaths, but his shoulders still shake with sobs.

There's a long moment where his ears are burning in humiliation, and he can't believe he's acting like this in front of two people he hasn't properly spoken to in like five months.

He's waiting for them to walk away, to tell him that a sob story won't excuse him being a dick to them, or to tell him to stop embarrassing himself and crying in the middle of the park.

Then, he feels a pair of arms wrap around his shoulders, and a body kneeling at his side, pulling him close into a hug. From the curls brushing at his neck, he knows its Tubbo.

There's not even a second between when another pair of long arms wrap around both of them. Ranboo.

"I'm sorry, Tommy," Tubbo is the first to speak, voice soft but raspy, clearly choked up. "I'm sorry for calling you selfish. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. I get why you were taking it out on us now, it's not your fault, it's okay."

"We're always gonna be here for you, Tommy," Ranboo promises, voice also wavering, "Thank you for telling us. We're not mad at you anymore, you know that, right?"

Tommy can only hiccup. 

"I'm sorry," he says weakly.

There's a hand at the back of his neck, combing softly through the messy hair at the back of his head, and there's another, different, hand running up and down his back, and he can't tell who is who, but it's helping nonetheless.

"You don't need to apologise," Tubbo promises kindly, "Yeah, you might've been a bad friend, but we get it. We understand why. You don't have to apologise for anything, we forgive you, big T."

"You could've told us, we would've believed you, even back then," Ranboo says softly.

Tommy pulls back from them, looking between them with red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. "Thank you," he looks a mess, hair ruffled, tear tracks down his face, but there's a soft smile now. "Thank you," he says again, "Both of you."

"You've got nothing to thank us for, Tommy, you know you're our best friend," Ranboo says again, "You know we forgive you."

Tubbo and Tommy share a look, and then in sync, Tommy groans and Tubbo laughs so hard that he almost tips over. Tommy can't tell if he's laughing or crying anymore, but he thinks it might be both.

"That was so corny, boss man, you ruined the moment," Tubbo says through laugher, his eyes are still red, but he's clutching his stomach and grinning now.

Tommy's smiling widely, so wide it hurts, he doesn't think he's ever been happier. 

He feels so much lighter now, a fluttering feeling of relief sitting in his chest. He knows Techno's going to be so proud of him when he tells him. "Come on, boob boy, this is my sob story, don't ruin it."

Ranboo looks between them with a teasing, mock-offended expression, exasperated but still amused, "I was trying to be helpful, man!"

They sit there for another twenty minutes.

Tommy asks them repeatedly if they're sure they can forgive him, and promises that they don't have to, and he wasn't just telling them that to make them feel sorry for him, but because he thought they deserved to know why he was so brash and taking it out on them.

Tubbo calls him stupid, and says that they would have forgiven him even if his only reason for being rude to them was that he was tired and grumpy.

Ranboo tells him that it was never that serious, that all he had to do was apologise, and they would have forgiven him on the spot.

They promise him that he's their best friend, nothing has to change, no , they won't treat him any differently, no , they won't say anything to anyone else, and no , they don't pity him. 

They say he's allowed to make mistakes sometimes.

"Oh my god, is that why you never accept a lift back when my dad offers?" Tubbo asks, eyes wide.

Tommy only laughs.

It's so relieving to have people who know , they understand why he is the way he is now, and they still love him. Techno was right. They still want him around. 

"You're a bit late to the memo, Tubso," Tommy chuckles. "But yeah. Nothing against Schlatt. It's just the last car I was in was like nearly three years ago, right after I moved here, because Dream thought it was stupid that I wouldn't get in the car and forced me to get in. It's not his fault though he doesn't know I was in the crash either. No one does. You guys should feel honoured," he jokes.

In the middle of laughing, Ranboo's phone buzzes and his smile falters. "I know I said there's no rush for me to get home, but my cousin's texting me and apparently we're supposed to go see a movie in thirty minutes and I completely forgot. Sorry, guys, I do actually have to go, they're waiting outside the gates"

"Say hi to Aimsey for me," Tommy says.

Before he stands, Ranboo leans over to give Tommy a hug again, beaming at him, "I'm glad we're friends again," he says, and then gives Tubbo a similar hug, before clambering to his feet, and turning to the gates.

From the distance, Tommy can see a figure waiting at the gates for him, where Ranboo rushes over, and even from there, he turns and waves at them. 

"Yeah, in all honesty, Tommy, I was only saying you didn't have to rush because I didn't want to rush you, but I do actually have to go home soon. I can't stay out for too long, dad wants me to help him make dinner tonight," Tubbo says smiling, apologetic.

Tommy laughs at his friends stupid kindness, both of them . "Don't worry, I get it," he waves him off. "I was supposed to be home ages ago, Dream's going to kill me," he jokes.

Clearly, though it doesn't sound enough like a joke, because Tubbo's smile falters.

"Text me when you get home and let me know you're okay, yeah?" Tubbo asks, voice softer now.

"Oh I can't," Tommy says, already feeling guilty for worrying him. "I don't have a phone, it's confiscated because of my grades. And Dream brok- took away my computer. I'll be fine, though, big man. I do this walk twice a day, five days a week," he knows that isn't what Tubbo means, but it's nice to pretend.

"I'll see you tomorrow at school, okay?" Tubbo says before pulling him into one of his usual side hugs as his lips twitch into a smile. "I suppose there's no use asking if you want a lift home."

Tommy's so caught off guard that he bursts into laughter so loud that he startles birds out of the tree next to him.

It's as he's walking home, smiling widely, that he realises Dream really will be pissed. He's only just adjusted the curfew, and Tommy's breaking it already. 

His smile falters. 

He'd been so relieved by the apology to his friends that he'd honestly completely forgotten about his bruises, at least for a little while.

"Tommy. You know I'm always here for you, yeah?" rings in his head.

Dream had said he's okay with Tommy seeing Techno now. It's a weak plan, sure, but it's a plan nonetheless.

Tommy speedwalks home, doing his usual twenty-something minute walk in barely fifteen, and he's out of breath, the bruises on his ribs ache, and his knee protests, but he knows now how he can get out of trouble, he just needs to be quick.

He stops at Techno's house, knocking rapidly on the door and looking uneasily over his shoulder at his house. 

When Techno opens the door only seconds later, he looks confused for a second, before remembering. He sees the grin on Tommy's face and looks hopeful.

"Techno! Hi, I spoke to them, and it went really well, but I kind of broke curfew, by a lot , so can you walk me home and tell Dream I was with you? Please? He won't mind if it's you," Tommy says all in one breath.

Techno pauses for a moment before his smile widens and he laughs deeply. 

He turns to put on whatever shoes are closest to the door.  "Sure, just don't make it a habit, alright? Come on, you can tell me all about it tomorrow, okay?"

"You're my favourite person ever," Tommy says with a grin as Techno steps out the house, locking the door behind him and walking him over to Dreams' house.

"So it went alright then?" Techno asks as they step off the porch.

"They told me I was being stupid, gave me a hug, and said that they forgive me," Tommy's practically bouncing with energy in a way he hasn't done in a long time, "Thank you for pushing me to speak to them, because I probably wouldn't have otherwise."

Techno looks pleased and squeezes Tommy's shoulder in silent comfort as they climb the steps to Tommy's house. It's so gentle that it doesn't irritate his bruises, not like when Dream does it. 

Techno knocks, and almost immediately, Dream swings the door open.

His face is furious for a split second when he sees Tommy, shyly standing there, but he quickly smooths it out when he sees Techno.

"It's my fault he's late home," Techno says quickly, before anyone else has the chance to speak. "The clock in my kitchen must've run outta batteries, we didn't realise it was this late until I checked my phone."

Dream smiles politely, holding out a hand to Tommy, who takes it, bringing him through the doorway. "No worries, Technoblade. It's an honest mistake, he's not too late anyway."

Tommy's incredibly thankful for the extended curfew, because he's given thirty minutes to get home after school now, and when he last saw the clock over Dream's shoulder, he's only about fifty minutes after school ended. It's nothing too bad.

"Sorry about it again, though," Techno apologises again.

Tommy looks across at Techno with as much thankfulness in his eyes as he can manage.

"Don't worry about it," Dream waves him off, tightly gripping Tommy's shoulder.. "Tommy, do you have something to say?"

"Bye, Techno," Tommy says, and he can't even wipe the smile from his face, as terrified as he is that Dream might still be pissed off.

"Bye Tommy. Bye Dream," Techno nods politely before turning and leaving.

Dream shuts the front door and turns to him.

Instinctively, Tommy flinches and braces to be hit, but after a second or two of nothing, he glances up from behind his hands to see Dream still standing there, not looking angry in the slightest.

Instead, he just laughs and ruffles Tommy's hair, gentle, kind.

How he used to be.

"You really need to get better with time management, Toms. Come on, I need some help setting up your new laptop."

Tommy's eyes light up, "Did you really-?!"

"You can't have it just yet," Dream warns. "This is just to motivate you to get those grades up. If your next report card has nothing below a d on iit, the laptop is yours, okay?"

"Okay!"

On Tuesday afternoon, Tubbo lays in bed.

He's not stupid, there was clearly something up. 

Tommy used to complain about Dream a lot, but never to this extent. And never once did he immediately jump into defending him before either of them had the chance to speak.

He knows Tommy, knows how miserable he's clearly been, but that isn't something he would ever do.

He'd known something was up for a while, but he couldn't tell what it was. 

The first time he noticed was two years ago, when Tubbo had pulled Tommy into a hug without thinking, and Tommy had flinched back so violently that he nearly fell backwards. But then he saved it by grinning and laughing and then it was all forgotten.

The second time was when Tommy came into class, head down, with a broken finger. It was clearly taped up to keep it straight, and when their teacher asked, Tommy said he broke it in a car door.

Tubbo had looked up to meet Ranboo's eyes, who was looking back at him with an equal stare of concern.

They hadn't known about the crash back then, but they did know that they had never seen Tommy in a car before.

There have been times over the years that flash before his eyes, all bruises that Tommy had laughed off and explained away with stories of tripping over his shoelaces or falling down the stairs or, once, telling Ranboo that he'd hit his arm on the edge of his desk to explain away a ring of bruises across his wrist.

Honestly, his excuses were good enough every time that they both moved past it, it was rare enough that they saw a bruise, and they actually had seen firsthand Tommy trip over his own shoes, or run straight into a wall.

Now, though, Tubbo isn't so sure.

He doesn't know what the other possibility could be. 

He knows about Ranboo's parents, about the reason he lives with his cousin, and he reasons that maybe he's being dramatic about Tommy. 

Really, as awful as it sounds, he doesn't forgive people quickly. He's willing to give Tommy another shot, certainly, because he loves Tommy, that's his best friend, and he'd gone through a lot of shit with his brother and was taking it out on them, but Tubbo isn't one to immediately forgive. 

If it had been him alone, he probably wouldn't have accepted Tommy's apology, but Ranboo had spoken to him while they walked to the gate, right before they met tommy again.

"There's something going on with Tommy," Ranboo had said in a hushed voice while their classmates bustled past loudly. "I think we should forgive him, whatever his excuse is. I'm worried, I want to figure out what's going on."

Tubbo understands. He thinks of flinches away from his hugs, of bruises laughed off, and swallows thickly. "Yeah. I'm still pissed at him, but I'm more concerned than anything else, I guess. Whatever he's going through, I don't want him going through it alone."

They'd met Tommy only minutes later, distracted by their own conversation about him, and then Ranboo had immediately forgiven him without a second thought. Tubbo knew it would take a bit longer for himself, but he could feel as the anger burning in his chest melted away to concern.

Then, of course, on cue, his phone buzzes with a call.

He has a separate ringtone for ranboo, so he answers without even looking, holding it up to his ear. 

"Ran?"

"Something was definitely up with him today, right?" Ranboo starts, already sounding panicked.

Tubbo has an arm thrown over his eyes to shield from the sunlight bleeding into his room, but still, he scrunches his eyes shut tighter, "Oh, yeah, 100%. Did you see the way he talked about Dream"?

"I don't know if I'm reading too much into it, because of, well. You know. But I don't want to, like, project onto him when we don't actually know what's going on. But- yeah," Ranboo says with a defeated sigh. "I'm worried. I think I wouldn't be so worried if he didn't defend Dream so much."

"I don't think you're reading into it too much, bossman, I agree," Tubbo says, voice dropped into a whisper. "Do you think he'll tell us? If that's what's really going on?"

"Tommy's… stubborn," Ranboo starts, and Tubbo's lips twitch into a smile. "I think if we try and tell him we're concerned, he might not want to hear it. I think maybe it's better to let him come to us, but- I don't know, Tubbo, what if we're wrong? Or what if we're waiting for so long for Tommy to come to us that we're too late?" his voice goes high with worry.

Tubbo speaks softer now, "Ran. I think it's better to let him come to us. We can't help him if he won't tell us the truth, and we don't even know for sure what's really going on."

Ranboo exhales heavily. "I know. It's just- I missed him, and now I know he was going through all of that alone, what else is he hiding from us?"

That hurts to think about.

Tubbo swallows harshly, "I don't know, but I think the only thing we can do now is be his friends and wait for him to come to us."

Chapter Text

Tommy knows he's in trouble when he walks into Mr Nook's English Class the next morning among the crowd of his classmates, and Mr Nook doesn't even look at him. 

Guiltily, he sits down at his desk and slumps over, looking straight down at the floor and wringing his hands. 

Instantly, his mood sours, even though he'd been pretty okay that morning, for once. He'd stopped by Techno's before school to update him on the situation with Tubbo and Ranboo, and then when he got to school, he'd moved seats in his form class to sit with them again, but even that isn't enough to stop the heavy pit in his chest. 

Ranboo must've spotted him fidgeting because he catches his eye from a couple of desks away and smiles widely, waving at him. Tubbo's too engrossed in the book to even look up.

Tommy can only manage a half-hearted nod back at them.

Even the reminder that he has friends again doesn't relieve the sinking feeling in his stomach, the remains of guilt from going against the one teacher who believed in him.

They spend nearly all of the lesson reading more Shakespeare passages, so thankfully, Mr Nook stays at his desk, and Tommy can avoid him just a little longer by keeping his head down and staring blankly at the pages, pretending to pay attention. 

He thinks, for a moment, when the bell rings, that he's gotten away with it.

Either Mr Nook didn't notice his absence when he'd skipped class, or he was grateful for it, because Tommy was loud and irritating. 

He was probably relieved when he saw Tommy's seat empty.

Then, right as everyone starts packing their things away and leaving to go to break, Mr Nook gets up from his desk, and walks right over to Tommy, coming to a stop right in front of him.

Tommy swallows thickly, staying sat down and staring intently at the door to the classroom over his shoulder.

He sees Ranboo and Tubbo hovering unsurely by the door, waiting for him to leave together like how they used to. He shakes his head at them silently, and then, still looking equally concerned, they leave with the rest of the students filtering out of the class.

Tommy watches as the last few people leave, and then he turns back to where Mr Nook was waiting.

"I'm sorry," he blurts as soon as the classroom is empty.

He can hear Mr Nook sigh, and then there's the scraping sound of a chair being dragged against the floor. When he looks up, Mr Nook has pulled a seat over to sit across the desk from him, at the same level.

"Tommy, I've really tried to be understanding, but I can't allow you to skip class like that ever again," Mr Nook says sternly. His voice was always gentle and warm, but it's much firmer now, not quite scolding, but sharper than it usually is. It stings to hear, and it hurts worse to know that it was him that caused it.

"I know, I'm sorry," Tommy's voice shakes as he speaks, almost unnoticeably, but Mr Nook clearly catches it, judging by his frown.

"You're lucky I didn't call your guardian and report you missing. The only reason I didn't, is because Ranboo told me he watched you walk out the front gates. If he hadn't told me that, I would've had to send teachers out looking for you. I know this is the first time you've done it, but do not let this become a habit," Mr Nook tells him flatly, leaving no room for argument. "Am I clear?"

Tommy swallows thickly, suddenly feeling sick. "Yes, Mr Nook."

Mr Nook exhales heavily, softening, looking more sad than angry at this point. "Look, Tommy, I believe in you. You're a smart kid, and there's clearly a deeper problem going on, because you've never skipped class before. I think you have real potential if you just try. So, because I believe in you, I'm going to ask one more time, is there something going on that I should know about?"

Tommy can't find his voice.

Mr Nook looks miserably at him, "I'm here to help. Just because I'm a mandated reporter doesn't mean you can't talk to me, alright? Is there anything you want to tell me?"

He can't speak.

His heart is racing in his chest to the point that he seriously thinks there's a very real possibility that it's going to burst through his ribcage, there's an awful acidic taste in his throat, and he's picking at his nails to the point that the skin around them is turning red and raw.

He refuses to look up, he can't meet Mr Nook's soft eyes, he can't face the concern he knows he's going to see in them.

"Is there something going on at home?" 

Mr Nook's voice is gentle, knowing, and he waves a hand over to catch Tommy's attention from where he'd been staring a hole through the desk.

Finally, Tommy looks up at him, meeting his worried gaze.

This is his chance.

He feels sick, and there's a mixture of burning guilt and bright hope in his chest, an ice chill running through his veins, and he knows this is his only opportunity to tell the truth and be believed. 

Maybe Mr Nook will understand him if he tells the truth, if he just rolls up his sleeves to show the bruises wrapping around his pale arms, or recounts how he would go days without food if it weren't for Technoblade next door. Maybe Mr Nook will help him escape, bring him somewhere safe to stay, somewhere far, far away from Dream.

He opens his mouth, and no sound comes out other than a shaky breath.

"Tommy?" Mr Nook asks again, sounding much softer.

He can do this, he has to. If he just tells the truth now, that's it, he can get away from Dream, he never has to see Dream again, this is it. 

This is his chance.

The words 'mandated reporter' ring around in his head, and he remembers the yearly CPS visits, the people asking if he's happy living there, if he's ever been hurt, anything. He thinks of his years of lying, protecting Dream, and he's suddenly struck with the awful idea that maybe, because he'd pretended to like living there, maybe they wouldn't believe him at all. 

He tries to picture what Dream's reaction would be if he ever found out that Tommy told Mr Nook about how he's really treated at home. 

Tommy frowns and looks away.

"No."

His voice comes out croaked and unsure, and he knows the long pause he left is concerning, at the very least, but he knows CPS won't understand. He deserved how Dream treated him, because he was a problem child and he was loud and irritating, he had to be taught to stop behaving that way. They wouldn't understand.

Mr Nook doesn't look convinced in the slightest, "Tommy. Please, if there's something going on at home, tell me."

Tommy answers quicker this time, meeting his eyes and shaking his head rapidly. "There's nothing going on at home, Mr Nook. I swear."

He still doesn't appear to be swayed, but he sighs and speaks again. "Okay, if you say so. But I'm always here if you ever need to tell me anything. I'm still worried about you, and I'm not the only one. I've heard the same from several of your other teachers, so I'd like for you to go to the counsellor's office, please."

"What? But I'm fine!" Tommy insists. 

"This is not debatable, Tommy," Mr Nook says, unyielding. "From your grades alone, I can tell you're struggling, and now you're falling asleep in class, or just skipping it completely? You need to go and speak to the school counsellor."

Tommy furrows his brow and looks back down at the desk, biting back a remark.

"She's honestly really nice," Mr Nook's voice is gentler now, but still persistent. He's suddenly much less grateful for Mr Nook's dedication to helping him. "She's helped a lot of kids like you. Just give it a try, okay? Talk to her about what's going on."

"I don't want to," he mutters, annoyed.

The classroom is quiet for a moment, and Tommy starts bracing to be hit, breath hitching in his throat, because whenever Dream's angry and he goes quiet, that nearly always means he's about to get hurt.

Instead, Mr Nook starts talking again, "Tommy, I'm not going to argue about this. I've already emailed her and let her know in advance that you'll be going there in a minute. She can excuse you from your next lesson if you're still there after break's over. I really think she can help you, you just need to let her," he hesitates, "You're a good kid, Tommy, I just want you to get the help you need."

"Fine, whatever," Tommy grumbles, standing and swinging his backpack over his shoulder, white-knuckle gripping the strap, gritting his teeth.

He knows Mr Nook is trying to be nice, but he doesn't care, he doesn't want to go to the fucking school counsellor. Nothing is wrong with him, he doesn't need to be there, but it seems like his choices are limited.

Fists clenched, he storms towards the door, but as soon as his hand meets the handle and swings it open, Mr Nook speaks again.

"Tommy?"

He turns around, glaring sharply, scowling darkly at him, " What ?" he snaps.

Mr Nook doesn't look phased in the slightest, smiling kindly at him, "Good luck," he wishes sincerely.

Tommy doesn't reply, scoffing and walking out into the mostly empty hallway, slamming the door behind him. 

The moment he's out in the hall, he stops to take a deep breath, relieved that everyone else is out at break, either outside or in the cafeteria, so at least there's no one to bother him while he catches his breath.

Just because he knows that Mr Nook is only trying to help doesn't make it any easier to accept.

He can only vaguely remember where the counsellors office, having only been once, nearly three years ago. It was shortly after he'd moved, and before he started school, he had to meet with the school counsellor to see if he needed any sessions with him to cope with losing Wilbur and moving to a new place, but Tommy remembered the counselor was harsh and rude so he just said what he wanted to hear, and never went back.

He's glad that there's no one around to see him walk into the counsellors office.

The room has entirely changed from when he was last there, the walls now painted a pale beige, lined with several desks and plush chairs, all separated by dividers. There are soft lamps scattered across the room instead of any bright lights, and in the back corner of the room is a couple of bean bags and a bookshelf. 

It's already much nicer than it had been the last time he was in there.

At the very front is clearly the counsellor's desk, decorated with clutter, the radio playing quiet music, and the woman sitting there clearly hasn't noticed him come in, still typing away at her computer.

"Mr Nook sent me here," Tommy blurts as soon as he realises she hasn't realised he's walked in.

The woman sitting at the desk jumps when she hears him speak, turning to face him. She has white curls streaked with dark brown, and kind eyes, and she smiles widely when she sees him.

"Oh my God, you nearly gave me a heart attack," she jokes with a hand over her chest, the sleeve of her cardigan falling over her knuckles.

"Sorry," he mutters, adjusting the grip on his backpack and staring down at the floor.

"No, no, it's okay, I just didn't hear you. Tommy, right? Sam told me he was sending someone over. I'm Miss Puffy, though I just go by Puffy, the 'Miss' part makes me sound old," she says with a grin, gesturing to the chair opposite her, "Come on, take a seat, I don't bite."

Tommy's lips twitch and he sinks into the chair, dropping his bag onto the floor and immediately going back to fidgeting with his hands, picking at the reddened skin and bouncing his leg nervously. "I don't need to be here," he says firmly.

Puffy's eyebrows raise and she leans back in her chair, twirling a pen around in her fingers, "Well, that's not what I've heard."

"Oh yeah? You don't even know me," he challenges, arms crossed over his chest fiercely, glowering at her despite the fact that she seems nice enough, and he's only known her for maybe thirty seconds at most.

"Tommy, I've had multiple teachers, and some of your classmates tell me that they're worried about you," she states plainly.

He blanches. "What?"

Puffy looks back at him flatly, unamused, "I've been doing this for a long time, I'm not gonna be easily tricked. I can tell when something's wrong, and, no offence, kid, but from what I've heard, you have, like, every warning sign ever. So clearly there's something up. Are you going to tell me what it is?"

"There's nothing wrong, I'm fine," Tommy insists.

"That's a no then," she remarks, leaning back further and raising her eyebrows. "Come on. Seriously? Do you expect me to believe that?" At that, he says nothing, so she softens a little, "Alright, why don't we start somewhere easier, we can circle back to this later. Why'd you move to this school?"

"Really? It's all in my file," Tommy gestures to the computer. 

"I know," she says, still looking at him expectantly. "This is your fourth school. Why don't you tell me about that?"

"Fine, whatever," he tightens his arms over his chest, still scowling, "My stupid brother crashed his car and died, so I got adopted by one of his co-workers, and Dream- that's the guy who adopted me, by the way, lived seven hours away from where I used to live in L'Manberg, so I had to move out here and change schools again."

Puffy looks contemplative, nodding along even though he's sure she already knows all of this. "So your brother was your guardian for how long?"

"Four years," Tommy mutters. "I moved in with him when I was seven. We moved again a couple years later 'cause he was broke, so we ended up in Pogtopia. He died when I was eleven."

"And why did you live with him instead of your parents?"

"My mum's dead and my dad's a dick," he blurts before flushing and ducking his head down, "Sorry, can I swear here?"

Puffy stares back at him with a slight smile, "Tommy, it's a counsellor's office. Teenagers swearing around me is not my biggest concern. Say what you want, I don't care."

"Okay, well, Phil, my dad, is a dickhead. He was never home, so Wilbur- that's my brother, by the way, basically took unofficial custody of me as soon as he turned eighteen, and then when he died, I told Phil I didn't want to live with him."

"So you got adopted by Dream?" Puffy asks, to which he nods. "How did you find that?"

"Fine," Tommy says hollowly, words void of emotion. "He's nice. I like living with him," he repeats, rehearsed from years of practice. "The only part that sucks is the yearly CPS visits, 'cause I'm adopted and they need to check up on me. They always come into my room to speak to me. I hate it."

Puffy tilts her head to the side. "So you're protective of your stuff," she muses.

Tommy glares at her, "When did I say that?"

She doesn't look phased by his sharp stare at all. "I've been a school counsellor for years, Tommy, I know what I'm looking for, even if you don't say it outright. How'd you find making friends when you moved here?"

"Honestly? Really easy. I didn't really have any friends at any of my old schools, out of the two in L'Manberg and Pogtopia. I was really loud and irritating, Wilbur said so all the time, and I didn't really need anyone other than Wil, but when I moved here, Dream taught me to not be so annoying, and then I made friends with Tubbo and Ranboo," he rambles, finally easing up a little now, frown disappearing almost immediately. 

"I know Ranboo, he's a good kid. That's good to hear," Puffy smiles, though it looks like she's considering something he's said. He wonders if he's said something wrong, but before he can think too much about it, she's moved on already. "So it was easier for you to make friends after the move?"

Tommy nods along. "Yeah. They found me on my first day here at lunch, and we kind of stayed friends after that. Except for- Well, we had this huge argument for a couple of months, and we only actually sorted shit out, like, yesterday, 'cause Technoblade told me to stop being dramatic and just apologise to them. So I did, and we're fine now. And I'm spending my break in here instead of being with them, so thanks for that," he bites, sarcastic and jabbing.

Puffy tilts her head, unbothered, "Who's Technoblade? I don't think you've mentioned him before."

Immediately, Tommy lights up.

His whole demeanour changes in an instant, the furrow of his brows smooths out, and he sits up a little straighter. 

"I've known Techno for my whole life, literally . He's Phil's best friend, so he used to babysit me all the time, and then he'd come and visit me and Wil when we moved out. He'd always come over on his really cool motorbike, but he never let me ride it, even though I asked, like, a hundred times. I stopped talking to him for a long time after Wilbur died, though. He kept trying to email me to talk, but I kept telling him to fuck off-"

"-Why was that?" Puffy asks.

"Wilbur kind of went a bit crazy before he died. He blocked Techno and Phil, and when he died, I blamed them for not helping him more when he was alive. I emailed him back a couple of times, then, like, two weeks ago, he moved next door completely accidentally, so I started visiting him again, and I realised that I'm not actually mad at him, at all. So I've been going 'round there a lot. He's really good at cooking, he has these two huge dogs, and he helps me with my homework," Tommy smiles, finishing his rant out of breath. 

Puffy looks at him strangely, quiet for a moment. "I think this is the first time I've seen you smile since you got here. Technoblade sounds like a good influence."

"He is, I go and see him a lot 'cause I prefer it at his house," Tommy says, far too honestly, before realising that it sounds like he doesn't like being with Dream. He doesn't make any move to take his words back, though.

"Mr Nook said your work really improved when you said a friend helped you with it. Was that Technoblade who helped you?" Puffy asks.

Tommy nods, "He's super smart. He's an English Major and an author, so I went to him for my Shakespeare homework, and he explained the whole thing to me, and showed me the movie 'cause it was easier to understand than the book."

"I've heard from several of your teachers that your grades are really struggling at the moment, but Mr Nook says you've shown improvement. Do you think there's any reason for that?" Puffy asks, and it feels all too much like one of Dream's trick questions, where there's clearly a correct answer, he just doesn't know what it is.

He hesitates to respond.

Puffy seems nice, she doesn't seem like she'd hit him, even if he deserved it, so he takes a deep breath and decides to try and answer, praying he doesn't say the wrong thing.

"Not really. I'm stupid, I don't understand the work, and I can't focus, so in class, I don't really do much. I know I should, but I just can't focus. When I took the work to Techno's, though, I was okay doing it, because he was explaining it to me, and I had, like, three hours to do it."

Tommy intentionally leaves out the part where he'd eaten a real meal for the first time in weeks, and how he'd immediately felt so much better, because Dream had told him years ago not to talk about his lessons, because other people wouldn't understand.

Puffy leans forward in her chair, curious, "What do you mean 'hard to focus?'"

"Techno asked the same thing, I don't know how else to explain it," Tommy sighs, "I dunno, I just get distracted really easily, and I can't focus on one thing for a long time like we're supposed to do in class. Does that make sense?"

"Perfectly," Puffy nods in confirmation, though she's clearly thinking about something. "Have you spoken to Dream about your struggles in school yet?"

Tommy knows it's rude, but he laughs out loud just at the thought. "Why would I do that?"

She frowns, looking at him curiously, squinting as if trying to decipher something. "Because he's your guardian, Tommy. You're supposed to feel comfortable talking about these things, especially because this struggle with focus and concentration sounds like it may possibly be medical. And it sounds like you've spoken to Technoblade about it already."

" Medical ?" Tommy repeats in disbelief.

"I'm not a doctor, so I can't say anymore than that, I'm afraid, what you're describing sounds almost exactly what neurodivergent students describe their experiences as. But I really would encourage you to speak to Dream about this, because this sounds more like there might be some underlying reasons for your issues in school, and I really would suggest seeing a doctor," Puffy insists, gentle, but firm.

Tommy sits in silence for a long moment.

The only person he knows that's neurodivergent is Tubbo, with his dyslexia, and Tommy's not like that, he's fine with spelling. It doesn't make sense to him, what Puffy's saying, and he knows he's not going to talk to Dream about it at all.  

He does make a silent mental note to mention it to Techno later, though.

"Doctor?" Tommy echoes again, voice soft and confused. "But I'm fine."

"Tommy," Puffy says sadly. "No one 'fine' gets referred to me by multiple teachers and classmates."

Tommy rolls his eyes. She does raise a good point though, and he doesn't have anything to counter it, so he just sits and waits for her to speak again, bouncing his leg restlessly.

"Now that we've got that out of the way, I have a couple of questions to ask you, is that okay?" Puffy asks, gentler now.

Tommy nods.

Puffy looks back at the computer, quiet for a moment, typing away furiously, before turning back to him with a kind expression, "I know these are difficult questions, but please answer me honestly. Do your issues in school cause you any stress or anxiety? Either in school or at home?"

"I guess," he mutters reluctantly, fidgeting with his hands again, picking at the skin around his nails. "But I'm failing nearly every class, and I might have to repeat a year. It's normal to feel stressed about that, I'm fine. I mean, Techno has a service dog for anxiety, Steve, who's alerted me a couple of times when I got too stressed, but I don't think I stress about it that much."

Puffy nods, typing again, turning back to him with a saddened expression. "Have you ever struggled with feelings of depression? Or is there any family history of it?"

"I don't think I have," Tommy answers unsurely. Sometimes, he thinks he's acting like Wilbur, but he's never considered being depressed before. "Wilbur had it pretty bad. He got medicated for it."

He doesn't mention that Wilbur stopped taking his meds after they ran out, never bothering to get a refill.

"Okay," Puffy's eyes flick back to her computer. She looks unhappy over something, and Tommy thinks he might've slipped up and said something that she didn't like. He swallows down the acidic feeling rising in his throat, head spinning. "Have you ever struggled with bullying here or at any other school?"

"No," Tommy answers honestly.

"That's good," Puffy smiles, a little relieved now. 

The only sound in the office briefly is the sound of her typing. It puts him on edge, waiting for her to speak, unsure of what she's going to ask next.

"I have a couple of more heavy questions to ask you, so please be warned, but I have to ask these whenever I start seeing a new student. I'm bound to confidentiality, so please answer honestly," Puffy pleads, voice friendly and quiet. 

Tommy nods.

"Have you ever had thoughts of hurting yourself or others?"

"No," he says quickly, maybe too quickly, given the way she looks at him. Really, he hasn't , Dream hurts him more than enough, to the point that Tommy hates being hurt now, even if it's just a papercut. 

Sometimes, though, he just thinks it would be easier if he'd stayed in the car with Wilbur. It's not even about him wanting that, he's glad he's alive, but sometimes, he wonders if things would be simpler. His brother wouldn't have died alone, and Tommy wouldn't be stuck with Dream. 

Tommy doesn't want to die, though, in fact, he's worried sometimes that Dream will go too far one day and kill him, and that idea scares the shit out of him. 

"Okay, and how is your sleeping pattern?" Puffy asks, looking at him unsurely. 

"Fine?" 

"And what about your eating patterns?"

At that, Tommy hesitates.

It's not his choice to be hungry all the time, to stand up and have the room spin, or to feel the pain in the pit of his stomach whenever he sees people around him eating while he has nothing. Dream does that to him, he would never choose that himself. 

But if he tells her that, Dream will be in trouble. He knows that. So he drops his hands into his lap, clenching his fists, and grits out, "Fine."

Puffy glances back at him with a frown, but moves on. "Alright, and have you ever had issues with self esteem?"

"No."

"Okay, great! Well, those are all the questions that I'm required to ask," Puffy smiles at him. "I know you think you don't need to be here, but I'm really glad Mr Nook referred you to me, because I think I can definitely help you."

"I don't need help, I'm fine," Tommy blurts, sharper than he intends to be.

Puffy tilts her head in curiosity, "Really? Well, you'd hate to see the notes I've been making during this meeting then," she laughs softly, gesturing to the computer screen. 

As grumpy as he knows he's being, his lips still twitch.

"Seriously, Tommy, it's okay to need help, you know that, right?"

"Help didn't work for Wilbur," he spits, words sounding harsh and unintentionally cruel. It doesn't sound like him at all, really, it sounds more like Wilbur. It makes him feel a little nauseous.

Puffy is quiet for a moment before leaning closer, elbows on the desk, levelling him with a sincere look. "I can't speak about that, because I didn't know Wilbur, but I can tell you this for certain, Tommy. Help will only work if you let it. I know it sounds harsh, but you need to put effort into getting better for it to work. You need to want it," Puffy says, as soft as she can, letting her words sink in. "I really think I can help you, if you let me."

Tommy stares back for a long moment, cold eyes eventually giving way to exhaustion.

He hates living like this. He hates coming home to flinch at every sudden movement, to walk on eggshells with everything he says, to hide in his room and stare at the ceiling because at least the loneliness isn't as painful as the beatings.

"Okay," he whispers.

"It sounds like you have a really good support system around you, with your friends, and Technoblade and Dream," Puffy tells him with a glance back at her computer. "Would you say so?"

"Yeah, I guess," he shrugs. 

Puffy nods along, looking at the clock on the wall. "Great, well, I think the first thing you should do is speak with Dream about your struggles in class, because I don't think it has anything to do with you being 'stupid', as you put it. I took a look at your history of grades as Sam requested, and I'm suspecting possible neurodivergence, but, again, I'm not able to diagnose anything. I think it's also worth mentioning your issues with anxiety at your doctors appointment too."

He hesitates, but eventually nods, even though he knows he's not going to breathe a word of this to Dream. 

"I've already emailed your science teacher to let her know why you're late to her lesson today, so don't worry about that. I'd like to start actual sessions with you sometime next week, so between now and then, please speak to your guardian about getting a doctor's appointment set up, alright?"

"Okay," he says, then blinks. "Wait, I thought this was my first session?"

"No, no, this was just an evaluation, to see if I think you would benefit from sessions, mainly because Sam told me about you skipping class on Monday," she says, with a teasing tone in her voice as he flushes dark in embarrassment. "We can talk about that in your next session. I'll see you next week, okay?"

Tommy stands, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and then sliding the chair back up to the desk politely.

Just as he turns away and starts walking towards the door, he recalls what he'd wanted to ask, and he whirls back around. "Wait, before I go, can you tell me who told you they were worried?"

Puffy looks over to him, standing by the door, "What do you mean?"

"Y'know," he says awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot, grasping his backpack tightly. "You said some classmates told you to speak to me. Who were they?" 

He's pretty sure he knows the answer to that, there's only two people who pay close enough attention to him to care enough to try and refer him to a school counsellor, but it's the only two people who would probably never admit it.

She smiles sadly back at him, "I can't tell you that. Confidentiality, remember?"

Tommy sighs, turning back around and reaching for the door handle, half irritated because he knows the answer, and half pissed off because he knows Puffy can't confirm or deny it. "Yeah, whatever. See you next week, I guess."

"See you next week, Tommy."

When he walks out, he closes the door behind him much gentler than he did back in Mr Nook's class.

As much as he despises the idea of him needing therapy sessions with the school counselor, he supposes that it does kind of make sense. Phil abandoned him twice, Wilbur died, and he's fucked up. 

Dream can never know, though. 

When he first moved to Essempi, and he'd gone to that school meeting where they were discussing how they could make the transition back into school easier, one of the teachers had mentioned maybe seeing the school counsellor, and Dream had kept his composure in there, but the moment they were out, he was livid. 

"You know, they only suggested that 'cause they think something's wrong with you," Dream told him at home, later that day. 

It's all hauntingly familiar. 

"But you know I would tell you if I thought that. I know you better than they do, and you're fine, Tommy. You don't need help, you have me. I take care of you, don't I? Or would you rather live with Phil?" He asks, and it's another trick question again, but at least Tommy knows the answer this time. 

He feels slightly nauseous on his walk to Science class.

At least the hallways are empty because he's already late, so there's no one to bump into him as he fights his way through the hall. Now, he can just walk as slowly as he likes, because his knee is really fucking annoying, and yeah, the bruises on his ribs have been gradually fading for a while now, they're not so much of an issue anymore, they're still a bit of a problem. 

Tommy likes Puffy, she seems genuine, and she doesn't talk to him like he's stupid like half of his teachers do. 

The only issue is, if Dream somehow finds out about his sessions, he'll kill Tommy. Last time, he'd thought that somehow the idea of Tommy going to therapy meant that he was ungrateful for the help Dream gave him. Now, though, nearly three years later, Dream would be so angry.

It terrifies him to think about.

When he walks into Science, the entire class falls silent.

Everyone's staring at him, which he knows has nothing to do with him, simply due to the fact that he walked in half-way through the class, but it still makes his heart beat a little faster.

The teacher catches his eye and nods reassuringly quickly, gesturing silently to his seat before immediately returning to teaching, finally capturing everyone's attention and getting all the eyes off him. It's not perfect, a couple of people still glance over, but it's enough for him to duck his head down and hurry to his seat near the back of the class.

He's restless already, bouncing his leg nervously as he tries to focus on the lesson that he'd half missed, as if it isn't hard enough for him to understand the work normally.

Thankfully, she spends most of the lesson talking to the class, so he doesn't have to write anything, just listen, but it also means that his attention is immediately captured when he hears the loudest fake cough ring out from across the classroom.

Instantaneously, his head snaps up and he looks over to see Tubbo, with his hand covering his mouth, staring right at Tommy, very clearly fake coughing again to disguise how loud it'd been last time.

Tommy makes a subtle expression of confusion.

Tubbo glances around to see if anyone's looking, which no one is, and mouths exaggeratedly, ' you okay?' . It takes him a second to try and register what he's trying to say before it clicks.

He nods once, trying to play it off as if he was looking for something under his book so he doesn't look weird, but clearly it works, because Tubbo smiles at him, and then looks away.

The rest of the school day is kind of exhausting after spilling his guts to the school counsellor in the morning, as nice as Puffy is, he hates having to dredge up his past, especially Wilbur, and now he's had to do it twice in the span of a few days. 

At least lunch is back to how it used to be, with Tommy sitting at his usual table with Tubbo and Ranboo for the first time in months.

He thought it'd be difficult to fix things instantly, but it's like nothing had ever happened, nothing changed drastically like he'd been worrying about. They didn't treat him any differently, they still smiled at him just the same.

Both of them ask where his lunch is, but he just tells them he's not hungry.

One of Dream's rules to teach him to be more grateful is that he's not allowed to eat anything Dream hasn't provided for him, and, conveniently, he never gives Tommy lunch. Sure, he ignores that rule when he goes to Techno's, but it's harder when it comes to lunch, Dream always notices when things go disappearing from the cupboards.

They share a glance when they think he's not looking, but he catches it anyway.

"Really, guys, I'm fine, I went to Techno's and had a huge breakfast today," he lies through his teeth, feeling guilty for not being truthful with his friends, even though he just got them back. He knows he's risking a lot by lying to them still, even with all the problems it caused last time.

Tubbo speaks first, "Are you sure? You can have some of mine," he offers kindly, but Tommy just shakes his head.

He doesn't mind stealing Techno's food, because no one's there to witness it. Now, they're in the lunch hall with hundreds of people. He can't risk one of his teachers seeing, and saying something about it to Dream at parents evening. The chance is slim, but not impossible.

"You can tell us anything, you know that, right?" Ranboo says softly, voice so hushed that it kind of gets drowned out in the noise of the hall.

Tommy swallows thickly.

He can't look them in the eyes when he replies, "I know."

Every morning, at exactly eight, Technoblade knows what to expect.

Ever since he'd repaired things with his friends, he'd been so excited the next morning that he said he couldn't wait until after school, he just had to go and tell Techno the next morning. Dream had left for work early that morning apparently, so he was gone in time for Tommy to come over and visit for a short while.

From the moment he knocked on the door, he'd been smiling far more than Techno had seen since Wilbur's death. He'd sat on the kitchen counter, waving his hands around and excitedly updating Techno on all that had happened.

Apparently, their reactions had been nearly identical to what Technoblade had tried telling him they'd be. Tommy was beaming as he told him about how, after he told them everything, they'd just hugged him and told him that he was stupid for hiding it, because it didn't change anything, he was still their best friend. 

It's strange, for Techno, listening to him talk, because he'd watched Tommy grow up, had known him his entire life, and yeah, he's not that much older, only sixteen years between them, but he's so proud, hearing him recount what had happened based on Techno's advice.

He's never thought too much about family, he'd distanced himself from his biological family so early on that he tries not to think about it. 

Sure, for the past fourteen years, he'd started really thinking of Phil, Wilbur and Tommy as his family, but he knows that's just wishful thinking. He'd been sixteen, and Phil had been there, and naturally, he'd kind of clung onto him as a mentor. Wilbur had only been a few years younger, and he'd been unpopular in his classes, so he quickly became close friends with Techno. Then Tommy had been born, and both Techno and Wilbur were fiercely protective of him. 

But Tommy and Wilbur were the actual brothers, Technoblade was just Phil's co-worker who visited sometimes.

Not only is Wilbur dead, but the three of them are the real family, they're actually related, there's a bond there. Techno's just the outsider. He has no right to think of them as family, to involve himself in their business when he has no place with them.

Still, his heart doesn't seem to get the memo, because he's never felt this much pride burst through his chest as he listens to Tommy speak, knowing that all this had happened because Tommy had listened to his advice.

Tommy only stays for twenty minutes before he has to get to school, and he's still beaming when he leaves, waving goodbye before heading out the door.

It had really touched his heart to know that Tommy cared enough about what Techno said to listen to his advice, and that it had gone so well. 

Techno had been so proud of him. 

It was that same day, late in the evening, that things had changed. 

Techno had been sitting at his desk, furiously typing away to try and finalise the first draft of his book to send to his publishers by the deadline they'd given him, a coffee next to him, headphones softly playing music, quiet enough that he could hear Carl whining. 

He's had the dogs for long enough now to know what that means, so, with a heavy sigh, he hangs his headphones over the side of his computer and gets up, going down the stairs with Carl at his side, navigating through the hallway and into the kitchen.

He unlocks the back door to let him out to do his business, and immediately, his first thought is that it's fucking freezing outside, so he moves to let Carl past him, intending on waiting inside where it's warm until he needs to come back in, but just as he moves to swing the door shut, he hears voices

Curious, he doesn't shut the door immediately, standing and waiting to try and figure out where the noise is coming from.

Techno turns his head side to side, and narrows it down to the loud voices are coming from the direction of Tommy's house. He can't figure out what's going on beyond just two voices shouting, so, bracing himself for the cold, he steps outside to hear it clearer.

It doesn't make it much easier, but at least now he can tell from the tones that it's very clearly arguing, loud and harsh.

He frowns, concern immediately settling in his stomach, making him feel a little ill as he listens to the argument, but he's a little more relieved when he listens closer and deciphers that there's two voices, Tommy and Dream, and, honestly, it sounds like Tommy's doing most of the shouting, so it's very clearly two-sided, and it seems like Tommy's got the upper hand.

He can hear Tommy clearer now that he's focused on it, and even though it's still muffled enough that he can't identify any exact words, it's noisy and furious enough to sound blazing. 

Techno quickly realises that he's shivering with the cold, biting February air, but the worry in his chest is burning hot, so he stays for another ten minutes.

Even after he lets Carl back into the house, he stands, listening to the argument, but eventually, he decides that it sounds like Tommy's furious, and Dream sounds calm in comparison, just loud, so he heads back inside.

He makes a mental note to ask Tommy about it next time he sees him, but he knows that if anything was actually wrong, Tommy would come straight to him. He would tell Techno in a heartbeat.

The next morning, Tommy had knocked, at exactly eight again, and told Techno that he missed the dogs and he wanted to come and visit them before he had to go to school.

Technoblade isn't stupid, this is the second time Tommy's used that same excuse, but he doesn't mind at all. For Tommy's benefit, he pretends to fall for it, smiling and stepping back to let him in, telling him that the dogs are running around in the garden again.

Tommy had been in a nasty mood, grumpy and scowling, forgetting entirely about his excuse to see the dogs, but he quickly cheers up when Techno makes him a cup of his usual tea. Techno finds the easiest way to calm him down is to let him talk, so, preparing himself for a ramble, he asks Tommy why he's so angry, without directly mentioning the argument he'd overheard the night before.

That seems to do it, because Tommy immediately launches into complaining about Dream, telling Techno about his detention from Geography, and how, when Dream found out about it, he'd been so angry.

Techno pauses at that, frowning, and asking just how angry had Dream gotten.

His worry is quickly relieved though when Tommy clarifies that it was him that started the shouting match, that he'd been yelling and slamming doors, and Dream had been the calm one, scolding him for his detention but not going any further than that, not even really shouting back at him. 

Technoblade knows Tommy, and he knows, for sure, that if there was anything further than that, anything worrying, Tommy would've told him in an instant. 

He knows Tommy doesn't really like Dream, if Dream had actually done anything bad to him, he'd run and tell Techno immediately, without even thinking. So that subsides a lot of the concern that had bubbled up in his chest.

Then, once he runs out of things to complain about in relation to Dream, he tells Techno about the school counsellor that he's started seeing, not by his own choice, but he says he likes her anyway. Her name is Puffy, and apparently, she's really helpful, even though he's only seen her once. 

He says that Puffy told him to speak to Dream about going to see a doctor, because his struggles with school might be related to neurodivergence and not just him being stupid and lazy, but he says it like a joke, laughing as he repeats it, like the idea was absurd. He says, honestly, that he's not going to say anything to Dream, because he doesn't need to see a doctor for stupidity. 

As soon as Techno tells him that it sounds like a good idea, Tommy falls quiet, contemplative. 

When Tommy leaves for school this time, he's in a much better mood, and even smiles at Techno as he leaves.

That third day in a row, Techno had picked up on the pattern and had already started brewing Tommy's tea before there was even a knock on the door. 

It becomes a routine, something that both of them can rely on. 

Techno's always free in the mornings, he hates getting up late, but he always does most of his work by the afternoon, so honestly, it's easier if Tommy visits earlier anyway. 

Even on the weekend, when Techno wasn't sure if the routine would continue, Tommy showed up at eight on the dot, and now that he didn't have to rush off to school twenty minutes later, he stayed for a lot longer. 

The weekends don't change much.

He shows up at eight, and he stays for a few hours, either until Dream comes around to tell him to come back home, or until he goes back by himself. Usually, he's gone by lunchtime, but when Techno offers to make two portions of lunch, he starts staying a little longer. 

It's nice to have something he can expect regularly, because he'd moved seven hours away from everyone he knows- not that he actually knows many people- but Tommy's still there, a constant.

Technoblade knows what comes when he watches the clock strike eight.

He already has Tommy's tea ready and a slice of toast freshly made on the counter by the time that Tommy lets himself in, because now he unlocks the front door five minutes early in advance. 

This continues for two weeks, and then February bleeds into March, and it's nearly been a month since he moved in when things changed.

Techno had been on the phone when he heard the rattle of the door, and with a quick glance up, he realised it's eight. He can hear Tommy's footsteps as he wanders through the house, looking for him.

"Yeah, that sounds great, Phil," Techno says pointedly, glancing over to Tommy standing in the doorway of the living room and then patting the sofa next to him.

Tommy moves to sit with him, throwing his backpack onto the floor, but makes a motion very clearly indicating that he has no interest in joining in on the phone call.

" I'll see you then, mate," Phil's voice comes through the phone, and Tommy's face shifts minutely. It's almost unnoticeable, but his lips tug into a slight frown. Techno had almost forgotten that Tommy hadn't actually spoken to Phil since moving. " I can probably get there at about twelve, is that alright? That's not too early, is it?"

"No, no, that's great, I'll make lunch," Techno looks back to Tommy, who is clearly listening in, but doesn't move to shift the phone further from him. "Sorry, Phil, I can hear Steve barkin'. I'll call you back later, yeah?"

" Alright, bye Techno," Phil replies with a laugh.

When he hangs up the phone, Tommy just stares at him silently, expectantly.

Techno raises his eyebrows. "What? You know I'm still friends with him, we do stay in contact," he says uncomfortably.

"No, just… ' I'll see you then', 'I'll make lunch'? " Tommy echoes with a look of disdain, nose scrunched up and arms folded over his chest. "Phil's not coming here , is he?"

His lack of response is enough of an answer.

Tommy looks pissed off, "Techno! Why didn't you warn me, what the fuck? You know I hate him. When is he coming over? Is he staying for long? Does this mean I can't come over in the morning?" He rambles, scowling and eyes sharp.

Techno waits for him to finish before replying, calm as ever, "Tommy," he grumbles in amusement. "No ones forcin' you to see him again. He's comin' over here on Saturday. I haven't told you yet, 'cause he only just got his leave approved by his boss, we didn't know if he was even gonna be able to make it over here until literally thirty seconds ago. You're still welcome to visit, you always are, you know that, but I'm not goin' to tell Phil he has to avoid you."

Tommy glowers at him.

"Look," he sighs, softening the gruffness of his voice a little. "He's not gonna be here 'til twelve. If you want to come over in the mornin' still, and leave before he gets here, that's fine by me. But I'd like it if you stayed."

The living room falls silent.

The anger in Tommy's gaze melts away to confusion, grey eyes wide and glassy. "What?" he whispers.

"You can hate Phil all you want, I'm not goin' try and stop you, but he's still my best friend. A lot can change in three years, Tommy. Even if you just stay to say hi to him, I'd really appreciate it. I don't really speak to many people outside of work, only really you and Phil," he hesitates, but it looks like Tommy's listening, so he pushes on. "I'd like you to stay for lunch."

"I don't want to go back to Phil."

Techno frowns, "No ones makin' you do that, Tommy. All I'm askin' you to do is give him a shot. If he pisses you off, you can walk right out, I won't make you stay. It's just lunch."

"Did Phil set you up to this?"

"What? No, I haven't even told him yet. I wanted to ask you first," Techno admits.

Tommy stares back at him, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

"And… if I do this, it's only lunch?" he clarifies, voice dropped to a whisper, weak and sounding far more scared than Techno had expected.

"You don't have to if you don't want to," he emphasises again. "Phil's comin' down for the day, he's leavin' the next mornin'. That's it. I'd just like if you stayed for lunch. You don't even have to be super nice to him, but I think it would be good for you."

He's quiet for a moment, dropping his gaze down to his hands, fidgeting again. "I don't know."

"That's okay. It's fine if you say no. It's up to you. Just please think about it, alright?" Techno tries to sound as non-pressuring as he can. "You've still got a few days."

"I have my session with Puffy today. I'll speak to her about it, see what she thinks," Tommy muses out loud. He swallows thickly, "I think I'd like to try it. I hate Phil, but if it really matters to you, I guess I'd be alright trying it."

Chapter Text

Thankfully, the day Phil comes to visit is over the weekend, so as usual, Dream's going out with his friends, so Tommy doesn't even have to use the homework excuse for once. 

He still does, though, by leaving a little note on the kitchen counter so Dream will at least know where he is if he comes home early, which never usually happens, not when he's out with his friends, but Tommy's not about to risk it happening now.

He goes over at eight as usual, even though Phil won't be there for another four hours. The idea of seeing Phil is terrifying, to the point that he seriously considers telling Techno he's ill and can't make it, but he doesn't want to let him down. He knows he needs to prepare himself, though, because just the idea of it leaves his palms sweaty and his heart racing. He still can't quite wrap his mind around the fact that he's going to be face to face with his biological father in no more than a few hours.

Tommy had talked it out with Puffy in depth, telling her every worry that sat heavy in his chest, aside from the fact that he was terrified that he would blurt out the truth about Wilbur's death. Other than that, he told her practically everything, and she'd encouraged him to at least try and meet with Phil. 

Puffy had explicitly told him, though, to stick by Techno if he was worried, because clearly Techno's presence was grounding, and he would help.

Tommy couldn't argue with that.

When he got there that morning, Techno had already made him breakfast to apologise for springing the idea of lunch with Phil onto him so suddenly. While Tommy hadn't even really been that annoyed in the first place, he certainly couldn't be mad after that.

The house is always cold, he knows Techno never has the heating on, but while he's lying on the sofa, he realises the sleeves of the long-sleeve shirt he wore kept slipping up, almost revealing the hand-shaped bruises across his arms. Subtly, he kept complaining about how cold it was until Techno gave in and went upstairs to retrieve a sweater he could borrow.

It's an old one, knitted and clearly worn in, a deep red colour, but Tommy doesn't hesitate to put it on. 

He'd insisted on helping Technoblade make lunch, because he said he was going to drive himself insane just laying on the sofa watching TV or continuing with his homework while waiting for the clock to hit twelve. The worst part was the waiting, he said, so at least helping to cook would be enough of a distraction.

Techno took no convincing at all.

He'd smiled, stood up, tied his hair back, and said, "Alright, well, I'm makin' potato stew. I've left all the stuff out on the counter, so you can just come to the kitchen with me and I'll tell you what to do."

Tommy groaned loudly, slumping down on the sofa. "You and your fuckin' potatoes, man. Isn't potato stew like, really chunky?"

Techno frowns, blinking down at him. "I… yeah? I guess?"

"That's disgusting," he said flatly, arms folded over his chest. 

In a second, he regrets it, and he suddenly understands why Dream's been teaching him to be less blunt and rude. He's half expecting Techno to raise his hand and slap him for the remark, because as soon as the words left his mouth, his heart sinks, and he braces himself for the hit.

Instead, Techno just laughs, putting his hands in his pockets. "I have a blender, y'know? This isn't the dark ages. You can try it, and if you don't like the texture, I'll just blend it."

"Wait, really?" Tommy had asked, jaw dropped, shocked that it was just that simple.

Dream had told him for years to be grateful for what he got, even if he didn't like it, he should eat it anyway and just get over it. That was why he currently was still limited to how much he could eat at home- he wasn't thankful enough for the food that he got, so Dream decided he should barely get any at all.

Techno just shrugs. "Sure, why not? It'll only take, like, five seconds."4

After that, they leave the living room to go into the kitchen, but immediately, the dogs trail after them, excitedly running in circles around their legs, so Techno unlocks the backyard door and lets them go out into the garden to get them out of the way. He leaves the door open so they can see them running around, playing with the toys scattered across the grass.

Technoblade has his hair tied up properly for once, in a way Tommy hasn't seen since he used to wear it up underneath his motorcycle helmet. He looks strange, with his contacts in instead of his usual rectangular glasses, and his long pink hair tied back into a bun aside from the loose strands hanging around his face. Still, it's the most familiar thing about this whole weird, almost-family lunch.

It's a weird situation, he knows that, having lunch with his family friend, and his estranged biological dad he hasn't spoken to in years. It's even weirder without Wilbur there, like there's a missing piece somewhere that threw off their whole dynamic.

He's just glad that he's stopped being stubborn and he's fixed things with Techno, because at least he has someone to rely on now.

Tommy decides he prefers spending time over at Techno's, but he's still always on edge. He thinks it's worse that he hasn't been hit at all yet, because now he's just waiting for it to happen, wondering if the next annoying remark he makes will be enough to make Technoblade snap. 

Dream always says he deserves it, and Tommy wholeheartedly believes him, he knows how awful he can be to deal with, but if that's true, if he's being hit to teach him to be better, then why hasn't Techno hit him yet?

It hurts his head to think about it, and he's never been good at hiding his emotions completely, so he furrows his brow and frowns as he thinks about it, but he looks a little stupid because he's chopping celery, and now he just looks deeply upset about it. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Techno glance over briefly, catching the look on his face, and beginning to speak.

"You know, when I met Phil, he still didn't know what he was going to name you," Techno starts, back turned to Tommy now, still peeling the potatoes carefully as he talks, and it's so clearly a distraction, but he doesn't care. 

Tommy looks over, wide-eyed. His hands are still moving, half-heartedly cutting celery with the tiny knife he'd been allowed to use, which is maybe a bad idea now he's looking away, but he does it anyway, and all the chunks of celery get sliced into different, wonky sizes. "Really? Didn't you meet Phil, like, not long before I was born?"

"Literally a couple of months before," Techno tells him, still turned away and oblivious to Tommy's awful kitchen skills. "He had no clue. He was askin' everyone at work what they thought. You should be really glad he didn't listen to anyone there."

"Oh yeah?" Tommy asks, abandoning his chopping duties and letting the knife clatter against the chopping board as he leans against the counter with a grin, "What were they going to call me?"

"Well, our old boss told Phil to call you Johnathan, 'cause his name was Johnathan, and his fathers name was Johnathan, and- Well. You get the idea," he says with a smile, looking over his shoulder towards him, noticing him listening intently instead of doing his job, but he says nothing about it. "One of the chefs wanted to call you either Cody or Kyle- he was very American, by the way."

"I think if he named me Kyle, I would've left sooner," Tommy jokes, wiping his hands on one of the kitchen rags before standing with his arms folded, tilting his head as he listens.

Techno snorts and turns away, looking back down as he continues to peel the potatoes carefully with a knife, "S'alright, the name I wanted him to call you is far, far worse. I was in my Greek Mythology phase, and I was 16. I kinda forgot you would've had to live with that name forever. Thankfully, he didn't listen to me."

"Oh, now you have to tell me what it is," Tommy begs, clasping his hands together in a pleading motion and shifting closer so Techno can see him. "Please, Techno! Please?" he begs, grey eyes wide.

"You don't even know Greek Mythology, you wouldn't get how stupid it is," Techno sighs, still turned away, but he does glance over again and the furrow of his brow softens at Tommy's expression.

Tommy spots his opportunity and nudges him, getting his attention and then immediately pulling out the shiny, wide, big-eyed stare he hasn't used since he was a little kid, pouting overdramatically and trying his best attempt at the puppy eyes. "Please? You have time to explain it to me, he's not here yet."

It takes almost no effort to make Techno cave.

"Alright, fine, but you're a bit old for storytime," Techno grumbles, though his lips twitch in amusement as Tommy pumps a fist into the air in celebration. "You know the minotaur, right? Weird half-man, half-bull thing?" he asks.

Tommy nods, then blinks. "Wait, holy shit, you weren't asking him to name me after that, were you?"

"What? No. Even I wasn't that stupid," Techno mumbles, looking back down at the potatoes as he speaks, avoiding eye contact. "No, uh, I actually told him to name you after the guy that killed the minotaur. Theseus. Stupid name, I know, but again, I was 16, I wasn't thinkin' too much about it," he grimaces at the thought.

Tommy tips his head to the side, humming contemplatively.

Techno glances over at him nervously, hands stilling, visibly embarrassed.

"I don't hate it," he admits.

"Really?" Technoblade looks back at him, eyebrows raised in genuine surprise. "I thought it was too pretentious for you, so did Phil. 'S why he didn't use it in the end."

"Lucky for you, I don't know what that word means," Tommy brags with a wide grin, the remains of nerves in his chest softening when Techno snorts a laugh. "Plus, it's not as bad as some of the nicknames I've had. Seriously. Dream calls me 'Toms' sometimes, it's awful," he complains.

He feels ungrateful saying it out loud. He should be thankful he has a guardian who cares enough about him to give him a sweet nickname, but that used to be Wilburs nickname for him too, so it's practically cursed now. 

Techno doesn't mention it.

"You'd rather be called Theseus than Toms?" Techno asks, rhetorically, mostly, but Tommy completely misses the sarcasm.

"Obviously, Techno, were you even listening to our conversation?" Tommy bites back with a loud laugh that echoes around the kitchen.

The whole thing is horribly domestic, with Techno's hair tied back and his sleeves rolled up, Tommy dressed in Techno's sweater, cooking together in the kitchen with ease, surprisingly not getting in each other's way at all.

It's weird, to remember that Techno has no obligation to do this. Wilbur was always nice to him, but that was because he had to be, he was his brother. Dream had to humour him sometimes, even when he was being annoying, because he was his guardian.

But Techno?

Techno was a family friend, and sure, Tommy considered him family, but there was no relation. Techno didn't have to be so welcoming and kind, he could very easily tell Tommy to stop bothering him, there was nothing stopping him. He had nothing forcing him to be nice, but he still was anyway. 

"Theseus would've been a bad name anyway. It's kind of a bad omen, his story didn't end well," Techno adds with a sideways look, half-meeting his eyes. "Dude became king, then got thrown off a cliff by his best friend."

Tommy makes a grossed out noise. "And you wanted to name me after that guy? Were you trying to curse me?"

Techno shakes his head in both answer and amusement, "Phil didn't even end up goin' with the name, so shut up and keep chopping," he jokes, words light enough that Tommy doesn't even flinch at the 'order', however not-serious it was.

"I'm not even getting paid, dickhead. You can't tell me what to do," Tommy complains, but shuffles back over to the chopping board and continues cutting up celery. "So who came up with 'Tommy' then?"

"Well, technically, Wilbur did," Techno answers easily, like the breath wasn't just punched out of Tommy's chest. "Your mom really liked 'Thomas', but Wilbur kept sayin' it was too much of an old-man name. So he picked Tommy."

Tommy's quiet for a moment, trying to pretend as if his ragged breathing and shaking hands were non-existent before he answers softly. "He was right. Thomas is an old man's name."

To no one's surprise, Tommy talks a lot when he's nervous, even more so than usual, so the closer it gets to twelve, the more he rambles about literally anything and everything he can think of. It helps distract him from the fact that his biological father, the man he hasn't even considered a dad in nearly seven years, was going to show up in probably ten minutes.

The idea made him feel queasy, but not in an entirely negative way.

He doesn't really know how to feel. He kind of wants someone to tell him. He knew Wilbur hated Phil, and he always told Tommy he should too, so it was easy to know what to think. Now, Tommy doesn't really think he has much of an opinion on his father at all. He doesn't think he hates him, but he's not sure of anything anymore, really.

Techno won't let him participate in the cooking any further beyond simple chopping, but when Tommy complains that his job is done and he doesn't want to sit alone in the living room, just waiting, Techno suddenly decides that they need a salad bowl to go with their lunch, so he sends Tommy back onto chopping duty, this time with whatever salad-ish vegetables he could find in the fridge.

Tommy knows that he's only saying that to give him something to do as a distraction, but he doesn't care. It's something to do, at least.

Technoblade stands over the stovetop, repeatedly stirring the pot while Tommy chops at one of the counters, still blabbing away.

He brushes a stray strand of blond hair from his face for the fifth time in the middle of a rant about Tubbo's latest experiment, something involving his father's lighter, a can of hairspray that he 'borrowed' from the drama department at school, and a now very burnt patch of grass in his backyard.

Techno glances over from his place hovering by the oven, monitoring the stew, "Do you want a hair tie?" He asks, interrupting Tommy entirely.

He blinks, completely forgetting what he'd been talking about in the first place. "Is my hair even long enough for that?" He raises a hand to self-consciously brush through the blond curls, which have now grown just below his ears, starting to brush against the back of his neck.

"Course it is," Techno digs through one of the kitchen drawers to find a new pack of hair ties in a range of colours. He slides out one of the pale blue ones and holds it out to Tommy.

Tommy fumbles twice to tie it, the first time, sending it flinging across the kitchen and bouncing off the wall and having to go retrieve it, and the second time, leaving half of his hair hanging out of the weird almost-ponytail at the back of his head. Strands stick up all over the place, and he looks a little bit like he got electrocuted.

"Is this the longest your hair's ever been?" Techno asks with a raised eyebrow, watching him struggle with amusement, lazily stirring the spoon around in the pot.

Tommy scowls at him, trying for a third time, only for the hair tie to end up uselessly rolling out of his hair and onto the floor as soon as he takes his hands away. "Fuck off, I know I need a haircut."

"No, no, it's just…" Technoblade trails off, smiling faintly. "I've never seen anyone struggle with anythin' so simple before. Please, keep goin'," he gestures teasingly, grinning.

"You're such a prick," he grumbles, though his lips tug upwards in amusement against his will. His hair really isn't that long, it looks a little like how Wilbur's used to in his final months, outgrown, but not long enough to reach his shoulders. It's not intentional at all, but the parallel makes his heart suddenly hurt. 

Techno hesitates, before holding out a hand to take the hair tie back. "C'mere. I'll do it for you."

Tommy's half expecting this to be a trick, wondering if Techno will do what Dream does, throw him around by his hair, drag him by it, or like how once, over the winter break, he'd pissed Dream off to the extent that he'd wrapped his hands around Tommy's throat the moment he turned away and his neck was exposed.

Carefully, almost cautiously, Tommy hands it over and turns around, tilting his head down.

He's putting a lot of faith in Techno right now, but so far, Techno's proven himself to be entirely different from Dream in every way. He'd like to believe Techno would never hurt him, and sure, some part of him believes that, but another part, deep down, wonders just how long it'll be before it inevitably happens. 

His heart races and he swears he can feel his heartbeat in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut and braces for the inevitable trick.

When Techno's hands first touch his hair, he flinches slightly, but since he'd braced himself for it, he manages to play it off pretty easily by grumbling, "Jesus, warn a man first."

"You alright?" Techno asks instead, not entirely fooled by his master acting, gently combing Tommy's mess of outgrown blond curls back into a slightly neater ponytail, twisting the hair tie tighter to cling onto the short amount of hair there, but careful not to have it too tight.

"Fine. Just nerves 'cause I'm seeing Phil again," Tommy answers half-truthfully.

In reality, he lets out a huge breath of relief when he hears Techno take a step back, further away from him. He trusted Techno, more than he probably should, with his experiences, but somehow, it worked out this time. 

Techno quickly cleans his hands before he returns to standing over the pot, stirring it again and sending a concerned look towards him. "You know you don't have to do this," he says gruffly, but Tommy knows that's his way of being kind.

Tommy glares back at him. "Yeah, well, I'm doing it anyway," he mutters, washing his hands before he returns to chopping cucumbers to toss into the salad bowl that he'd found at the back of the cupboard.

"So what was that thing you were sayin' about your friend? He burnt the grass in his backyard?" Techno asks, clearly trying to divert the conversation in a way to make Tommy more comfortable.

In all honesty, he's just surprised that Techno was even listening to the shit he was saying. Dream always tells him to shut up while he's rambling, or he doesn't listen at all. He'd just assumed Techno was being polite by letting him talk, but he was ignoring him. The anger festering in his chest softens a little.

"I'm fine, really, Techno," Tommy says instead, not falling for the diversion. "You know, you worry a lot."

Techno tilts his head, watching him. "Yeah, well, 's not like I can help it. You're a very worriyin' person," he jokes, and that's the thing that finally cracks Tommy's grumpy expression, a trace of a smile slipping onto his face.

"When are you gonna get your motorbike back? I still haven't seen it, and you've been here, like, forever," Tommy complains, throwing the last of the cucumbers into the bowl and moving on to chopping tomatoes.

"I've only been here a month. I'm still unpacking," Techno huffs. "My bike's still back in my storage unit in L'Manberg. I haven't really gotten around to bringin' it back, 'cause then I have to get the train there and then ride it back, and it's a whole thing…" he trails off as Tommy tries again to do the big, wide puppy eyed stare. 

It doesn't work this time. 

"You know, that's not gonna work on me every time."

"Worth a shot," Tommy mutters dramatically. "Come on . I keep bragging to my friends about how cool you are, with no proof to back me up! I swear they think I'm lying."

"You tell your friends that I'm cool?" Techno asks with a raised eyebrow.

Tommy immediately fumbles to correct himself, stumbling over his words for a second before he manages to get out real words. "You're hearing things in your old age. I said your motorbike is cool. But don't let Tubbo near it, he'll try taking it apart. And don't let your ego inflate anymore. I don't think you're cool. You're like thirty, you have pink hair, and you're an English Major. How cool can you really be?"

"Ouch," Techno mutters dryly with a smile, aware that Tommy's just overcompensating because of embarrassment at his slip of words. "Good thing I don't believe you. Glad to see I'm still 'cool' to you, even though you're a moody teenager now."

"Fuck you, take that back!" Tommy scowls, then immediately falters as the realisation hits him. " Oh . Wait-"

"Yeah, exactly," Techno says smugly as he nods towards him in success. He's focused on stirring the pot and not letting the stew burn, so when there's a knock at the door, faint, almost inaudible, he absent-mindedly says, "That's probably Phil, do you mind gettin' it?"

Tommy freezes.

It's only for a second, for a brief, fleeting moment where his breath stops and his hand falters and the knife falls onto the chopping board before he manages to recover.

Clearly, his reaction wasn't as subtle as he thought it was, because Techno immediately reaches for a rag, wiping his hands clean and gesturing towards the pot. "Actually, nevermind, I can do it, you stay here, just watch that, make sure it doesn't boil over-"

"It's fine, I'll do it. It's only Phil," Tommy says flatly, mostly to remind himself that there's nothing to be scared of. 

Techno looks apprehensive, but before he has the chance to argue, Tommy's already off. He carries himself on trembling legs towards the front door, slightly remorseful that the dogs are out playing in the garden and they aren't with him now, because he has nothing to hide behind.

He wants to look through the peephole first, but he knows that if he does, he'll only freak himself out more, so he takes a deep breath and swings the door open.

For the first time in nearly three years, he's standing face to face with Phil.

The worst part is that Phil himself hasn't changed.

He still looks exactly the same as Tommy remembered. He had the same unassuming height, the same straight posture, the same messy blond hair that Tommy has, only his is longer and straighter, hanging at his shoulders. His eyes are the same shade of blue that Tommy's used to be before they were dulled, warm, and glistening under the sun as they make eye contact. 

For a split second, it's like Phil doesn't recognise him.

Tommy can spot the tiny shift in his expression the moment Phil realises just who he's staring at, and he almost forgets just how much he's changed, because Phil is still so painfully similar. 

Tommy's a good foot taller now, at least, standing up at the top of the porch steps, with choppy, outgrown blond curls tied back with Techno's hair tie, sunken in silver eyes, and he's so thin compared to Techno's oversized red sweater that he looks like a gust of wind could blow him over with ease.

Shockingly, he doesn't feel any anger looking at his biological father, not like he thought he would. In fact, he feels nothing at all, Phil feels like a stranger entirely.

"Hi, Phil," Tommy speaks first, voice softer than it had been earlier when he was hanging out with Techno. It's deeper than it used to be, still squeaky at times, but undeniably lower now.

He steps back before Phil has the chance to speak, swinging open the door further and letting him in. "Techno's just in the kitchen finishing up lunch now."

"Right, sorry," Phil blinks, stepping past him to look around the hallway, scanning over the framed photos and decorations hung up. When he hears Tommy shut the front door behind them, he turns around, and they're face to face on the same level now. 

Tommy's towering over Phil now, and that in itself is so strange.  

"Techno did tell me that you'd be here, it's just-" Phil breathes out, "Sorry, mate, I just haven't seen you in so long," he admits, completely truthful, still scanning across Tommy's face as if searching for something.

Tommy fights to keep his expression blank, as neutral as he possibly can.

"I know," Tommy says bluntly, harsher than he'd intended. Phil is nothing more than a stranger to him now, not that he's ever really been more than that, and the kindness in his eyes is making Tommy's skin crawl. He looks over Phil's shoulder, past him, to the entrance of the kitchen, and he drops his voice softer. It's not quite a whisper, just hushed. "I'm staying for Techno, because he asked me to. Not for you, but I'll be nice anyway. I guess. Follow me, he's in the kitchen."

He steps around Phil and heads straight back into the kitchen, all of the tension building in his shoulders smoothing over the second he spots Techno again.

Techno turns around and smiles widely when he sees Phil, turning his head towards the backdoor and whistling loudly.

Both of the dogs come barrelling in immediately, almost skidding into the wall with the sheer speed they run at, excitedly jumping up at Phil and panting happily, their tongues hanging out of their mouths. 

"Hey, Phil," Techno greets kindly, familiarly, before his eyes flicker up towards Tommy, spotting the nervous wringing of the kids hands. "Tommy, can you go rinse off the lettuce before you chop it please? How was the drive?" He asks, leaning against the counter and smiling at the two of them.

Tommy follows without argument, almost relieved to be able to turn his back on the situation and follow a task, because it gives him something to focus on other than the fact that Phil is right there.

"Longer than I thought it'd be, but traffic wasn't too bad, so I can't complain. I feel like I've been driving for forever though, it's good to be out of the car finally. Sorry It took me so long to visit mate, but it's hard to find time around work, you know how it is," Phil says, a smile audible in his voice, and Tommy can feel a prickle on the back of his neck as Phil looks over at him. 

From the corner of his eye, Tommy can see Techno wave him off, and he stifles a flinch at the sudden movement of his hand. "Don't worry about it, Phil, I've had my hands full with this one," he nods towards Tommy, "so I haven't had much free time anyways."

Tommy turns to look at him over his shoulder, the knife in his hand still absent-mindedly chopping lettuce as he speaks, "Don't be such a bitch, you love my company," he teases with a toothy grin. He feels like he's performing in front of Phil, trying to act like nothing's wrong in a way he's never felt in front of Techno. 

"Be careful with that knife before you cut yourself," Techno scolds lightly, "Besides, all you do is let yourself in, steal my food and pet my dogs," he complains, though he's smiling as he says it.

"Yeah, and you love it," Tommy insists, and then when he looks down at the floor behind him, both of the dogs are sitting behind him as if they're guarding him, Steve rubbing his head against Tommy's leg. "See? They love me too! How could I leave them here with you when clearly they love my company ? "

"See what I mean?" Techno says teasingly as he turns back to Phil, "He's supposed to be doin' homework right now."

"Exactly! I told Dream I'd be doing my homework over here because Mr English Major said he'd help me out, and instead this prick has got me doing child labor!" Tommy complains loudly, though he still continues chopping the lettuce. "That's illegal, you know? I'm fourteen. If you pay me, it's illegal, and if you don't, it's even more illegal. This is very, very immoral of you, Technoblade."

He swears he can feel Phil watching him, and he actively tries not to look, instead, turning back to the chopping board.

"Well, you know you're not bein' held here against your will," Techno says with a knowing grin. "You're free to go home. Door's unlocked."

Tommy stares back with hard eyes, pouting.

He knows Techno would never make that joke if he knew the truth, if he knew that Dream was out with his friends for the day and Tommy was supposed to be locked in the house all alone as he did every weekend, or if he knew about the bruises under his sleeves, or about his 'lessons'.

He thinks he likes that Techno doesn't know, because he treats him normally. Dream always tells him that no one will understand his lessons, they don't get that he needs to be taught them, he deserves it, so he needs to stay quiet about it, or he'll get taken away and put with someone far worse.

Tommy swallows thickly and tries to recover. "Yeah, but if I go home, then you'd be all lonely. I'm doing you a favour, really, my presence is a gift."

Techno laughs softly at that, turning away from him and back to Phil, rolling his eyes. "Whatever, just keep makin' the salad and try not to chop your fingers off please."

Tommy silently notes that he doesn't disagree.

"How's it been since moving here?" Phil asks kindly, leaning against the doorway as he watches the two of them move around the kitchen in sync. "I haven't really had the chance to ask you how you're liking living in Essempi"

"Honestly, I haven't really gone out much, publishers are askin' for the first draft of my next book sooner than I thought, so I'm either workin' on that or I'm just running around after this one," He nods to Tommy again. "From what I've seen so far, 's nice, I think. I dunno, once I've got this draft submitted, I'll actually go out. It's a busier city than I thought, though."

"You don't 'run around' after me," Tommy grumbles, "You just tell me stupid Greek myths, or talk about Shakespeare."

"I've told you one Greek myth, because you specifically asked me to. Also, the Shakespeare was literally for your homework, just to remind you," Techno says with a raised eyebrow. 

Tommy quickly falls quiet.

"Yeah, I mean, so far, I've only really been to the store and back, but the draft's due in two weeks, and I'm nearly done with it, so I'll be able to actually leave the house soon," Techno tells him, shifting the attention away from Tommy once he notices the nervous shaking of his hands again.

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a tour guide," Phil jokes, and from the corner of his eye, he sees Phil nod towards him.

Tommy lights up at the idea, smile widening and becoming more sincere now. "Oh my god, Techno, there's this super nice ice cream place like twenty minutes away that you need to go to! They even have old people flavours like pistachio and Cherry Bakewell, you'd love it!"

Techno sighs, "I'm gonna ignore you callin' me old, but only 'cause you called me cool earlier. Also, you just want me to buy you ice cream," he speaks flatly, and it's not a question, moreso a statement. A very accurate statement, at that, because Tommy doesn't disagree, he just keeps staring at him with wide eyes, hopeful. "Fine, sure, we'll go after I submit the first draft," he relents.

Tommy beams.

"How's work been?" Techno asks, diverting his attention back to Phil.

"Shit," Phil answers bluntly, and Tommy tenses, expecting to hear a frustrated rant, like Dream's, but instead, Phil just laughs. "They tried taking back my day off and tried calling me in this morning, but I was already like four hours into my drive and I was not about to cancel lunch, not when I finally get to test how serious you were when you said you'd taken up cooking."

"He's a great cook," Tommy defends, "I love stealing his food."

Techno laughs gruffly, "He's not jokin' either. I never seem to have leftovers anymore, they all keep mysteriously disappearing," he teases. 

"It's not my fault I'm growing! I'm going to be taller than you one day, watch out," Tommy threatens with his finger pointed towards Techno. "And I'll be much scarier than you, because I won't have pink hair or glasses. Or a beard."

"You are the least intimidatin' person I've ever met," Techno deadpans. He looks back at the pot of stew. "Phil, why don't you go and sit at the table? Lunch is basically ready, we'll be there in a second."

The dining table is in the kitchen anyway, so Phil doesn't have to go far to sit down, but still, he watches them move around the kitchen with amusement.

"Why can't I go and sit at the table too?" Tommy whines.

"Cause you said you wanted to help," Techno reaches for the three bowls he had prepared on the side, beginning to ladle the stew into the bowls as he speaks. "There's a handheld blender in that drawer over there, can you grab it for me quickly? No, that other one, there."

Tommy rummages past an impressive amount of junk for someone who'd only lived there for a month until he finds it, handing it over.

Without asking, Techno blends one of the bowls, sending a concerned sideways glance to Tommy when he flinches at the sudden noise. "Here's yours, don't get it mixed up. Are you alright carryin' the salad too?"

"Course I am, I'm a big man, aren't I?" Tommy brags, and then immediately nearly spills the stew all over himself when he tries to balance the salad bowl in his hands too. He stabilises it and then looks back at Techno, who stares back smugly. "You didn't see that."

"No, I saw nothin'," Techno placates, carrying two more bowls over to the dining table.

Tommy sits down first, leaving the huge salad bowl in the middle and taking the chair across from Phil, close enough not to look rude, but far enough that his heart isn't pounding. Techno had him set the table earlier, leaving a water jug in the centre and little glasses piled next to it, along with little salad bowls. 

Immediately, he reaches over for one of the salad bowls and begins shovelling salad onto it, so high that it nearly tumbles over and he drops a couple bits onto the table.

Techno passes one of the bowls of stew over to Phil before he sets his down next to Tommy, sitting by his side.

For a moment, Tommy tenses, before having to remind himself to breathe, to stop nervously bouncing his leg under the table and to stop picking at his fingernails, because now Techno could see him doing it, and he knows what Techno's like, he knows all he'll do is worry.

"You know, Tommy, I don't think I've ever seen anyone pile that much food onto one plate before," Phil says jokingly, taking a sip of his drink as he smiles. It's clearly an attempt to talk to him, to start the conversation, to try and break down the wall of tension Tommy had built up between them, but all it does is make Tommy bristle.

"It's impressive. You could probably feed a small village with that amount of salad, y'know?" Techno remarks dryly, watching as Tommy practically dislocates his jaw to fit more salad into his mouth. "You know you'll get leftovers, right? You always do, and there's still a ton of stew left for you to take home."

Tommy at least has the decency to cover his mouth with one hand as he speaks, still half-chewing his food, "Fuck off and let a man eat. I know how much food I can handle."

"That's a lie," Techno says knowingly, leaning back in his chair. "You're gonna eat it all super quickly and then complain for twenty minutes about your stomach hurtin'. I know you too well for you to lie to me."

He scowls at Techno, eyebrows furrowed. "I'm not that predictable," he insists sharply, though he does noticeably slow down with how quickly he's eating.

"To be fair, mate, it's a good thing that you have an appetite. You are still growing, after all," Phil says with a smile, "All it means is that you're going to get taller."

"Any taller and his head will break through my ceilings," Techno grumbles.

Tommy ignores him, "Exactly, Techno! Are you really going to starve a growing teenager?" He pouts, pretending like it isn't scarily close to the truth, like it's an idea so far off that it's funny. 

Techno stares blankly back at him, his glass of water in his hands as he raises an eyebrow. "You know you have an actual house next door, where you also get fed three meals a day, on top of whatever you steal from my fridge?" He teases.

"But the food you make is much nicer," Tommy complains. Technically, it's the truth, because Dream doesn't really feed him properly, if he feeds him at all, and he hasn't for weeks. In comparison, Techno's like a Michelin star chef. "Plus, Dream's a shit cook. You're much better."

"Thank you, I think?" Techno responds in confusion. 

"You know, this is actually really good," Phil compliments with a genuine grin. "Techno, I'm still really surprised that you can cook. I was kind of still expecting to order take out, or to be served a stale slice of bread."

Techno deadpans back, "I've been turned into a chef by the annoyin' child that keeps breaking in and insisting I cook for him."

"No chef would ever be this obsessed with potatoes," Tommy says with mock seriousness. "Seriously, man, you have a problem."

"Oh yeah?" Techno asks in disbelief, pursing his lips. He watches as Tommy practically inhales the stew, so quick that the only noise is the spoon's constant scraping against the bowl. "Clearly you don't have an issue with it though."

"So, Phil," Tommy turns away, proven wrong. He knows their jokes are getting a little too close to the truth now, something he can't risk exposing if he doesn't want to upset Dream, so with careful notice, he diverts the conversation again. "What brings you all the way out here? I didn't think us lowly peasants were due for a noble visit," he jokes sarcastically, though his words have more of a bite to them.

He's careful not to be too rude, because he doesn't want to ruin Techno's lunch, not after he was invited specifically because Techno wanted him there.

Phil exhales sharply through his nose before he replies, masterfully calm, still smiling politely "Techno asked me to come over, and I haven't had a chance to see his new place yet. It's really nice, mate."

"Yeah, well, they wanted me to buy it, but I managed to talk them down into just renting it," Techno says with a shrug.

For a second, Tommy's plagued by visions of Techno moving away and leaving him there all alone, stuck with Dream without anyone's house to flee to. The idea makes his blood run cold, and his grip on the spoon tightens to the point his knuckles turn white.

"Honestly, I'm still not sure about it," Techno admits. "I kind of wanted to buy a farm somewhere in the countryside. Stupid, I know, 's why I didn't do it, but I dunno if this whole suburban thing is for me."

"Don't you fucking dare move away," Tommy interrupts, face completely genuine. "I'll hunt you down and follow you. I'm serious. I'll hide in the trunk of your car if I have to."

"Seems like you're stuck here, mate," Phil quips.

Techno deadpans blankly, "Oh no. What a shame. I guess I'll live here forever now. I'll call my landlord back and buy the house on the spot."

"Damn right," Tommy responds smugly, before eating another spoonful of stew and nearly emptying the bowl. "Techno, this is really good. I can't believe you're ruining it and eating it with the chunks in it, though, you're so gross."

"I'm not sure if I should be complimented or offended," Techno says flatly. "This is already much more successful than the last meal we had, though," he jokes quietly to Tommy. 

Tommy immediately flushes red, ducking his head down and letting the outgrown blond curls fall into his face, obscuring his embarrassment. "Shut up. Stop talking."

"Why? What happened last time?" Phil questions, leaning his head on his hand, elbow resting on the table as he listens intently.

"I flipped a chair and stormed out," Tommy admits quietly, face reddened with humiliation as Techno laughs again. He knows Techno won't hold it against him, but he has no way of knowing if Phil will, because he barely knows Phil in the first place. "It was so stupid, it wasn't even worth being angry over. But after I flipped the chair, I kind of had to commit to it. It wasn't like I could just sit back down and pretend nothing happened."

Techno shakes his head in amusement, still laughing softly, and it's that gesture that makes Tommy's racing heart slow down a little, enough that he can kind of see the humour in it now. He's still kind of in awe of the way Techno manages to make him feel better about literally everything.

"I mean, it wasn't exactly the nicest thing to say," Techno says noncommittally. "If you hadn't said somethin', I probably would've, but I dunno if it was chair-flip worthy."

Phil glances between them. "Come on, are you going to leave me hanging?"

"Dream invited Techno over for dinner a few weeks ago, and I was being annoying, so Dream said something stupid about Wil to get me to shut up, but I took it the wrong way," Tommy mutters in embarrassment. 

"And flipped a chair," Techno adds with a slight smirk.

He nudges Tommy lightly and makes him breathe out a laugh, the red flush of his cheeks finally subsiding.

Phil's jaw visibly tightens, but he's wary to keep his face still. "So, other than that, how's it been, moving to Essempi and living with Dream?" he asks Tommy, returning to eating his lunch. 

"Fine," he answers shortly, stabbing into the lettuce with his fork with a little too much force. He doesn't want to be rude, but it's like the words are just coming out against his will. He swallows thickly before continuing. "But he's told you that already, though."

He really doesn't want to ruin Techno's lunch, and he really is trying hard to be polite. Tommy's always been good at hiding things, about Wilbur, about Dream, but he's never been able to control his facial expressions or his voice, and the words are leaving his mouth sounding far harsher than he intends. It's not intentional, but Phil is practically a stranger who's acting like nothing's wrong, and it's kind of driving him a little crazy.

"But I haven't heard it from you yet," Phil says kindly, unbothered by the sharpness of Tommy's voice. 

Tommy has to brace himself before he replies.

"Really, it's fine," he says, selecting his words vigilantly, a casualness in his voice that's far too forced and his posture too straight and measured. "He's great. I love it here. He's the best guardian I could ask for. Plus, I have friends now, which is still kind of crazy," he's specific to end by talking about Tubbo and Ranboo because he can sound sincere when he's talking about them, and he knows it shakes off some of the concern.

Techno snorts in dry amusement, glancing sideways at Tommy, "Your friends burn down their backyards for fun."

"You leave Tubbo out of this," Tommy scowls and waves his fork vaguely in Techno's direction. It probably would've been more intimidating if he wasn't so scrawny, because Techno's deadpan expression doesn't falter.

"So, how's school been? You still doing alright? Still the best in your class?" Phil asks with a wide smile, blissfully unaware as he eats his lunch. "I bet you're still giving the teachers hell. You were always so smart, they never knew what to do with you."

Tommy freezes.

He looks to Techno for a moment his breath stuttering in his throat, a firm, pleading look in his eyes. "Yeah, school's going great. Same as always. The usual. Y'know? Still the top of the class. Still boring."

"That's detailed," Techno mutters under his breath, but doesn't correct Tommy. 

"Boring's good, though," Phil remarks kindly, completely oblivious to the lies he's being fed.

Tommy looks up questioningly. "Oh, yeah? How is being bored out of my mind for eight hours a day, five days a week 'good'? The only reason I haven't dropped out yet is 'cause my friends are there."

"Boring means you're not gettin' arrested," Techno jokes quietly, soft enough that only Tommy can hear.

"What have you been up to, Phil? Anything exciting?" Tommy carefully redirects the conversation away from his school life, and he can tell Techno notices it. 

He's too good at this, too practiced. His face is schooled into a polite smile, nodding along and acting like he's listening, when in reality his knee is bouncing restlessly under the table, and his hands in his lap are picking at his fingernails until they're red and sore.

He's had years of practice with Dream, where he'll have to divert the topic of conversation away from something that he knows will either lead into an argument, or just upset Dream. It's not a skill most people know, he's uncomfortably aware of that, especially now with Techno staring at him. He knows Techno is observant, he always notices when something's off with him, but he'd almost hoped that Techno would let this one slide.

Clearly, judging by the way Techno is watching him with a slight frown, he won't.

"Just trying to keep busy, mate," Phil answers easily, paying no attention to the barely noticeable furrow of Techno's brow, or the way he keeps glancing at Tommy. "I've been thinking of getting a pet or something. The house is too quiet now without someone turning up unannounced all of the time," he says pointedly towards Techno.

"Shouldn't have given me a key if you didn't want me to use it," Techno shrugs in response.

"Oh, but when I show up unannounced, it's a problem?" Tommy complains loudly, throwing his hands up into the air. The sleeves of Techno's stupidly oversized sweater fall past his hands and he nearly whacks himself in the face. 

Techno grins, turning back to his lunch and finally looking away. "Yeah, 'cause you usually just invite yourself in. There's a reason I haven't given you a key to my place yet. You'd clear out my fridge in minutes."

Yet.

Tommy blocks out the rest of the sentence, and the phrase ' I haven't given you a key to my place yet' echoes in his mind, ringing in his head over and over again. The smile on his face turns from forced to more genuine now.

"You know, I still can't believe how much you've grown up," Phil says conversationally towards Tommy.

He clenches his fists under the table as irritation creeps through his chest. "Yeah, that usually happens over three years ," he grumbles, voice stiff and clipped. "I'm gonna go get a drink," he stands, pushing his chair away from the table.

Before he can take more than a few steps towards the fridge, Techno calls out for him. "I bought you some cans of coke. They're not in the fridge, though, I had no space for them. You know that storage closet in the living room with all the unpacked boxes? They're in there, in front of my Motorbike helmet. You can go and get one, if you want."

Tommy's scowl softens, and he changes direction to walk out into the hallway, shouting as he leaves, "Thank you Techno! I knew I was your favourite."

The kitchen falls silent.

Phil watches as he leaves, the smile on his face shifting into a slight frown, eyebrows pinched together. "He's gotten quieter," he notes out loud, words hushed enough that Tommy wouldn't be able to hear.

Techno hums noncommittally, dragging his spoon around in his bowl, looking down. "Yeah," he agrees half-heartedly. He doesn't want to say too much, because clearly, Tommy's still not a fan of Phil, and he doubts he'd like if Techno told him all of his struggles lately.

Dragging a hand down his tired face, Phil speaks again, "I know he's probably still mad at me. I can't blame him."

Techno doesn't speak, waiting.

When Phil exhales, the noise comes out heavy and downhearted, still looking at the empty doorway sadly. "I just thought- I thought maybe, after all this time, all these years, things would be better for him. I thought he'd be happier, y'know, away from L'Manberg. I thought I was giving him a chance to move on."

"Honestly, he's not doin' great," Techno says guardedly, aware that he shouldn't say too much behind Tommy's back. "But I'm keepin' an eye on him."

"Does he seem off to you? Or is he just like that now?" 

"He's… quieter, I guess," Techno says, which is technically the truth. 

The loud little toddler with the shiny golden curls and bright blue eyes and that toothy smile who used to follow him around the house and would talk until he lost his voice was long gone now. 

In his place, stood Tommy, with his sunken face and his hollow eyes, every movement careful and reserved, planned out. 

"He's kind of always like that now though," Techno continues, hushed, "He's definitely strugglin', but I think it's just a teenager thing. He sees a counsellor at school, Puffy, I think he said, and he's gettin' better," he's stuck in the middle of trying to tell Phil enough to calm him without lying, but also not wanting to betray Tommy's trust. It's a very fine line, but Techno chooses his words specifically.

Phil's jaw tightens. "You think something's going on? He's not getting bullied at school, is he?"

"He'd tell me if he was," Techno says certainly in an instant, like it's not even feasible that Tommy wouldn't go running to him for help the moment he needed it. "Honestly, I think he's doin' alright. He's not doin' great, but he'd come to me if he needed help."

"I should've checked in more. I used to call once a week, but now.. It's been a few months, I think," Phil admits miserably.

"It's not your fault, Phil," Techno replies, but it doesn't sound like he believes it even as he says it.

Just as Phil opens his mouth again, there's clear footsteps and within seconds, Tommy appears in the doorway, a Coke can in his thin hands. 

He glances between them for a second as if picking up on the heavy atmosphere of the room, but he doesn't say anything, he just moves to sit back down next to Techno.

"Work's not been too bad though?" Phil quickly changes topics, abrupt enough that even Tommy furrows his brow at it, despite not being in the room to witness the sudden change. "I know you said deadlines are getting close, but it's not too bad, is it?"

"Eh, it's been a little stressful, but nothin' I can't handle, especially not with Steve," Techno responds with an air of casualness in his voice that wasn't there before. "It's just part of the job, right? The writin' and editing's goin' well, and the publisher's are happy with the last draft I sent them, so that's a win, I guess."

"It's nice to see you settled, Techno, you've earned it," Phil says kindly as he sets his spoon down, finishing the last of his stew. "This was really nice, I'm still a little shocked that you're actually a good cook. I'm really glad you invited me over."

Techno waves him off. "It's no problem, I'm glad you made the trip out here. I don't get to see you enough."

As lunch gets finished, Techno and Tommy both start clearing away the plates in sync, bringing the water jug and the glasses over to the kitchen counter, and gathering up cutlery to dump in the sink.

Techno insists that, because Phil's the guest, and because he's driven seven hours just to visit, there's no way they'll let him help them clear up. It becomes increasingly obvious that Tommy's deep in thought about something, because he doesn't even argue about how it's unfair that he's helping and Phil isn't like he usually would. He's eerily quiet.

"Hey, have you taken the dogs for a walk yet today?" Phil asks as he leaves his empty bowl next to the sink. 

"No, not yet, why?" Techno asks as he stacks the rest of the salad bowls at the table to make them easier to carry. He glances over his shoulder to see Phil looking contemplative.

"I was going to offer to take them out for you while you clear up. It'll give me a chance to look around Essempi for a bit, and it'll get me out of your way if you're not going to let me help you tidy up," Phil offers kindly, leaning against the counter.

Techno glances over to Tommy, who has stacked and unstacked the same little pile of remaining cutlery at the table to look busy. Clearly, something's bothering him, and there's no way he'd ever admit it in front of Phil, so he nods, smiling at Phil. "Yeah, actually, that'd be really helpful, thanks. There's a hook near the front door where their leads and harnesses are."

"Great, well, I'll be back in fifteen minutes, and you can show me around Essempi, yeah?"

"Yeah, thanks again, Phil," Techno nods, silent on the fact that usually the dogs would have a much longer walk, because they're pretty big dogs with a lot of energy, he typically takes them out for at least forty minutes. 

He's just glad Phil's going to be out of the way long enough for him to talk to Tommy.

The kitchen falls silent as Phil leaves, and he listens to the audible jingle of the harnesses and leads attaching to their collars, followed by their excited barking as Phil leads them out of the house.

The moment he hears the front door click shut, he turns back to Tommy.

Tommy's standing by the sink, looking out the window and out at Dream's house, shaking hands on either side of the sink, bracing himself against the counter. His breath comes out uneven, and his shoulders are clearly tense. All he can think about is how angry Dream would be if he knew he was at Techno's eating lunch. He knew he was awful to try and raise, always breaking rules, going against what he's told, and he's only doing it again now. 

He swallows thickly, ducking his head down and forcing himself to take a deep breath as he feels the tell-tale prickle at the back of his neck of someone's eyes on him. 

"Tommy? Y'alright?" Techno asks from somewhere behind him.

He doesn't turn around, or even look up. His eyes fall shut and he inhales deeply through his nose before he replies. "Yeah, I'm fine," he says, but his words sound distant and forced, even to him.

There's a beat of silence before Techno replies.

"Oh yeah? Really? Then do you want to tell me what that was?" Techno asks firmly. It's not like he's in trouble, not like when Dream talks to him in that stern voice, but it's more so that he knows Techno doesn't believe him, and he's not going to let it go easily.

Tommy gives in and turns around to face him, arms wrapped around himself, still cold like he always is. "What?" he asks, genuinely confused.

Techno raises his eyebrows in scepticism, "I saw you during lunch. You're never that quiet. Ever," he remarks, doubt evident in his low, monotonous voice.

"I'm good. It was just really weird seeing Phil again today," Tommy admits just enough of the truth to get Techno to back off.

It seems to work, because the frown on Techno's face smooths out into something like sincerity, and he tilts his head as he looks at Tommy, scanning over his body language again before he speaks. "I really appreciate you stayin' and givin' him another chance," he speaks gruffly, but his voice dips a little softer.

Tommy looks up, meeting his eyes with an air of vulnerability he would never normally show. "I didn't do it for him," he says.

Techno's eyes crinkle as he smiles, picking up on the silent meaning behind Tommy's words. "Thank you, Tommy, really."

"S'alright," Tommy mumbles awkwardly as his gaze drops to the floor, uncomfortable, tightening his arms around his midsection as he shivers again, still freezing as he leans against the counter. The bruises around his ribs have gone now, though there are still some new ones staining the skin of his arms, so at least it doesn't hurt to wrap his arms around himself anymore.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"I thought I'd be fine seeing Phil," Tommy admits quietly, unable to make eye contact. "And I was fine, really. But- It was weird, seeing him. I barely know him. I kept looking to my left expecting Wilbur to be there too. He should still be there. It was weird, being around both of you at the same time, because I kept forgetting that Wil was-" 

Techno moves slightly closer, making Tommy look up at him. "Tommy. Breathe."

Tommy takes a second to compose himself again before speaking, looking down at the sleeves of his sweater. "I kept expecting to see Wilbur sitting with us. And then it would just remind me all over again, and it would make me all weird when I thought about it. And Phil just didn't talk about him at all. It's like he wants to pretend like nothing's wrong. Sorry, it's stupid, I know, I really tried not to ruin lunch-"

"-It's not stupid," Techno interrupts before he can spiral too far. "I know what you mean. It's okay."

The words hurt to say, a pang shooting through his chest when he remembers that Wilbur, the same Wilbur that raised him, the same Wilbur that would take him out for Friday ice creams and would tell him that no one would ever love him as much as he did, was dead. He wasn't ever coming back. 

It's still hard to wrap his head around, even years later. 

"I miss him, Techno," Tommy admits in a weak whisper, fidgeting with the sleeves of his borrowed sweater.

"I get it," Techno speaks gently, like he's placating a wild animal. "I mean, obviously I wasn't as close to him as you were. He was your brother, but-"

"What?" Tommy blinks in genuine confusion. "No, not Wilbur. Phil."

"Oh," Techno breathes quietly, and something far too close to pity for Tommy's liking passes across his face for a brief moment. There's a deep sorrow in his expression as he speaks again, "Oh, Tommy," he says softly.

Tommy shifts against the counter, tightening his arms around himself, "Fuck off, man, stop looking at me like that," he snaps, face flushing red in humiliation that he let himself say that out loud. "It's just- seeing Phil made me think about what would've happened if I never left with Wilbur. If we stayed at home. Wilbur never would've died. I never would've moved out here."

"Wilbur's death wasn't your fault," Techno reminds him, and it's the same words he's heard for years on loop. He doesn't ever believe them, because they don't know the truth. "You know that, right? Wilbur had a car accident. It had nothing to do with you."

"I know," Tommy says, just to get him to stop talking.

He knows he can never tell anyone the truth. He'll take Wilbur's secret to the grave, because no one can ever know that Wilbur tried to kill him. He told Tubbo and Ranboo in a moment of weakness, and honestly, he kind of wishes he hadn't. He knows they look at him differently now, even if they're good at hiding it. 

Techno looks at him, contemplating, head tilted, frowning. "Tommy, are you okay?"

"You've already asked me that like four times today, big man. Is your memory okay?" Tommy bites back, and it's clearly a deflection, because it doesn't change the worried expression on Techno's face at all.

"That's not an answer," Techno says flatly. He's always been stubborn, but now Tommy kind of wishes he'd just let it go. "I mean, every time I hear you talk about living here, you sound miserable. Dream said you've been havin' problems adjusting. This isn't about Wilbur, is it? Or Phil. This is about somethin' else."

"I'm fine, Techno, drop it," Tommy insists, voice turning sharp.

"Really? If there's nothin' wrong, then why don't you want me to push it? What do you think I'm gonna find?" Techno questions, relentlessly concerned, not letting up in the slightest.

"Wow, man, you really need a hobby. Maybe a girlfriend. Or another dog. Something, " Tommy grumbles.

Sure, it's an attempt to start an argument, but it's always worked for him before. When Dream's mad at him, now, he doesn't even try to get out of it. He'll argue back, and take the punishment, because at least then he's sure he deserved it, and he doesn't have to think about why Dream hurts him so much. Techno hasn't hit him so far, but Tommy knows it's always going to be a possibility.

Techno ignores the clear diversion, and he doesn't look offended in the slightest. "If somethin's wrong, you can tell me."

Tommy's too quick with his reply, too casual, too practiced. He thought he was better at hiding it than this, he didn't think Techno would catch on so quickly. Dream had assured him though that no one would understand Tommy's lessons, they wouldn't understand that he deserves to be hit, so he needs to keep hiding it.

"Nothing's wrong. I don't need the lecture, Techno, seriously."

He watches his movements still, scanning over him again, and Tommy tenses because he doesn't know what Techno's looking for. "...Okay," he says, clearly still doubting him. "You know I'm here for you though, right?"

Tommy's scowl softens and his folded arms fall down to hang at his sides limply. "Yeah. I know. I really am okay, though, I promise. Why wouldn't I be?"

"I dunno. Maybe 'cause every time I ask you that, you say the exact same thing, and somehow, I never believe it," Techno's gruff voice has softened in a way that's incredibly rare, words caring and sincere and far too nice for what Tommy deserves.

Tommy stiffens, and then immediately realises that it was the wrong thing to do, and he tries to save it by laughing awkwardly. 

"Maybe I'm just a really convincing liar," he tries for a joke, but it seems to fall flat, because Techno's furrowed brow doesn't shift at all.

"That's not exactly a good thing, Tommy," he mutters.

The kitchen sinks into silence for a long moment.

Tommy sniffs and shoves his hands in his pockets, looking down at the kitchen tiles as he speaks, "I think I'm going to go back to Dream's house. I know I said I'd stay and hang out with you and Phil all day, but lunch was- I don't think I can-"

"You don't owe me an explanation," Techno cuts him off, not unkindly. "I'm just glad you gave it a try. Thank you, Tommy."

He's quiet for a second.

He's suddenly aware of just how cold he is, and when he looks up and sees the soft concern in Techno's warm eyes, he feels his heart twist. He swallows thickly, and forces himself to move before he overthinks and regrets it.

In an instant, he quite literally throws himself at Techno with enough force that he almost knocks him off balance, wrapping his arms around him and tucking his head into the crook of Techno's neck. 

It's the first hug he thinks he's had in years, other than from his friends, and immediately he forgets about Dream, about bruises and flinching, because Techno's here, and he's hugging him back, and things really aren't that bad. He's still wearing the same cologne that he used to, that pomegranate and sandalwood scent that he'd always worn for as long as Tommy had known him. He feels like a kid again, seeing Techno walk in through the door and immediately running to hug him.

There's a split second where Techno freezes, before, gently, one arm wraps around Tommy's shoulders, the other resting on the back of Tommy's head, on top of his curls, holding him close.

Tommy doesn't realise just how much he's missed hugs until he's in Techno's arms, and he feels so much safer than he has in years. He feels cared for, in a way he hasn't felt in a while, not since that first time Dream hit him on his twelfth birthday. 

For a moment, he contemplates telling Techno the truth, telling him about Dream hitting him, maybe just rolling up his sleeves and showing off the bruises and seeing how he reacts. He knows he deserves it, but some selfish part of him, deep down, wants to ask Techno if he can stay, if he doesn't have to go back to Dream.

Techno starts pulling back, but Tommy has his fists clenched in the back of Techno's t-shirt, and as soon as he moves, he only tightens them, not letting him move.

He can feel when Techno chuckles, feels the deep rumble in his chest and the soft breath on the top of his head. 

"If you wanted a hug, you know you could'a just asked," Techno remarks, though he also doesn't move to pull back again, simply holding Tommy as long as he needs.

Tommy tucks his head in closer, cold nose pressed into Techno's shoulder, "Shut up, stop ruining it," he grumbles. 

He doesn't want to move, he feels safer here. Techno cares about him. Techno has never once made him feel stupid, or hurt him, or told him to stop rambling before he gave him a headache. He wants to stay, but he knows, logically, he can't. 

He knows he doesn't deserve it.

Techno rubs one hand against Tommy's back soothingly, clearly noticing the shift in his demeanour and intending to calm him down, but instead, when he speaks, Tommy can hear the frown in his voice. 

"Jesus, Tommy, I can feel your spine through the sweater. Let me go and pack you up some leftovers to take with you before you go," he offers, voice still low and soft, and not moving to pull back again before Tommy does first.

Tommy doesn't respond to the remark about how skinny he is. He knows it already, so instead, he moves to take a step back, praying Techno doesn't make a comment about how his eyes are glassy and red-rimmed. He smiles up at him, and says, "You know I'm never going to argue with getting more of your cooking, right?"

It's officially been three years since Tommy's been living with Dream.

He wakes up that morning, rolling out of bed still in his pyjamas, excited to celebrate like they always do. The anniversary of his adoption is the one day that Dream is always nice to him. Even on his birthdays, he isn't treated this nicely.

It's been their routine for the last two anniversaries that Dream will take him out for a meal, usually buy him a cake with candles to blow out, and he won't hurt him for the day.

Tommy races out of his room on socked feet, nearly skidding into the wall and rushing down the stairs like a little kid again.

He can't wipe the smile off of his face as he reaches the bottom step, waiting to see what surprise he'll get this year. Maybe Dream will buy him a present like he did on their first celebration, or maybe he'll cook breakfast for them both. 

The house is still eerily quiet, so carefully, Tommy heads down the hallway, poking his head into the kitchen briefly to see if maybe Dream was already in there, working away to surprise him.

The kitchen is entirely empty.

Tommy doesn't let it get to him, because maybe Dream's waiting for him to tell him that they're going out to an actual restaurant for once to celebrate his adoption. He sticks his head into every room he passes just to be sure, and when he gets to the end of the hallway, the only one left is the living room, and he's so excited that he's practically shaking.

When he pushes the door open, his smile falters.

There, still passed out on the couch, is Dream.

He's still dressed in the clothes he wore the night before when he left to go and see his friends again, in jeans and a t-shirt. His shoes are kicked off onto the floor next to him, and his arm is hanging off the end of the couch. His head is tipped back against the pillow, and his snores echo around the room.

Tommy freezes.

It doesn't completely discourage him, he's sure Dream will still celebrate, they always do. He's been adopted for three years, that's definitely something worth being excited over. 

Maybe Dream was just tired. They'd celebrate later.

Tommy stands in the doorway, hovering, unsure of what to do. He can't wake up Dream, he knows that'll piss him off on the one good day they can both celebrate. 

Thankfully, while he's stood there contemplating, Dream jumps awake with a loud sound somewhere between a snore and a gasp. He sits upright, looking around the living room until his eyes fall on Tommy, waiting, hands twitching at his sides.

"Tommy? Jesus, you scared me," he places a hand on his chest, dropping back down onto the sofa, head hitting the pillow again. "You look creepy standing in the doorway like that. What do you want?"

"Sorry," Tommy whispers, voice automatically coming out hushed instinctively. He swallows thickly, and tries to hype himself up to speak again, fighting back his nerves and his fear of being too clingy. Dream always hates when he's being clingy. "I just wanted to ask if we were going to do anything today?"

Dream looks up at him dryly, unamused. "Why? Do you want to go out with your friends? The answer's no, Tommy."

"No, that's not-" he blurts, before snapping his mouth shut.

Dream stares at him with raised eyebrows, a little shocked that Tommy had dared to cut in while he was still speaking. "Well? Go on, you've already interrupted. You might as well finish what you were saying."

"It's been three years," Tommy says softly, fidgeting with his hands and looking down at the floor.

It takes Dream a long moment to think of what he's talking about.

When he remembers, Dream laughs loudly, startled. "Oh. Oh! No, we're not doing anything today, Tommy. I have a headache, I was out with my friends until late last night," he answers casually, like Tommy doesn't visibly deflate in front of him.

Tommy shrinks in on himself, blinking back the stinging in his eyes. "Okay," he says quietly, and his voice shakes as he speaks.

"Cheer up," Dream tells him sharply. "CPS will be coming soon for their yearly visit. Might be today, might be in a few days, I don't know, they never tell me. So put a smile on your face, alright? Or you'll be taken away. You don't want to be taken away, do you, Tommy?" he asks.

At least this time, Tommy knows what answer he wants to hear.

"No, Dream."