Chapter Text
Tommy isn’t good.
It’s a simple fact he’s known since he was younger.
A simple fact that was proven based off the words of everyone around him, from his social worker, his peers and even his foster families.
Not that he cares, his foster families all sucked ass, they either didn’t know how to deal with a “problem child” or they were just pieces of shit.
His peers, aka the kids in any school he’s been at and the kids in the group home. They all hate him, granted he didn’t give them any reasons to like him, in fact he did the opposite.
But probably the worst out of all of them is his fucking social worker, Katie— no last name given.
Fucking Katie is a bitch in Tommy’s very, obviously correct opinion. In fact he’s almost positive that the woman puts him in bad homes on purpose, only to not take him out until she can’t refuse to take him out of the house anymore.
Aka waiting until he gets beat to a pulp or until the foster family he’s with has enough of him.
Which leads him to absolutely dreading his current situation.
And what’s that situation? Well, he’s in the car with Katie, driving to another foster house, because one of Tommy’s teachers had to have called the fucking cops when Tommy kept showing up with bruises.. the straw that broke the camel’s back was the now yellowed and blue bruise on the side of his head, nearing his eye but mostly focused on his temple and cheek bone.
Stupid fuckin teachers..
That was a good house too, they had at least let him eat dinner even if he fucked up something..
Tommy’s currently sat in the backseat of some sort of Honda, his backpack on the floor by his feet, in between his legs. While it’s a bit of a tight fit with how long Tommy’s legs are, he’d rather it over having his bag in a place where he’d be slow to grab it.
“You better not mess this up. This is an emergency placement, until we can find another family to take you in.” Katie states, and Tommy doesn’t respond, just keeps his head pressed against the cool window of the car.
Tommy watches as what was once was a very busy and bustling city starts turning into.. very nice neighborhoods..
Well shit
He’s definitely not going to fit in here.
Tommy watches as everything blurs together in lines of grays and yellows, a sinking ball of anxiety tightens in his stomach as they turn into a neighborhood.
They only drive a few more minutes before Katie turns into a driveway of a nice, upper middle class home.
The neighborhood itself isn’t too squished together, but enough to make it feel crowded.
“Come on. Remember best behavior Phil’s a good man. Don’t ruin this. Understand?” Katie declares and Tommy just bristles, moving to grab his bag and opening the door.
Though once he pulls on the handle the door notably doesn’t budge.
He looks in the rear view mirror finding his social worker staring back at him, her glare matching his own.
“Understand?”
Tommy grimaces at her, though despite the fire burning in his chest, he forces out the word “understood” with a scowl.
It takes a moment before Tommy hears the car unlocking along with a snicker from her as he gets out the car.
He immediately shivers as he steps out into the cold, wind blowing into his face as he throws his duffel bag over one shoulder, and shoves his hands into his pockets, snow sticking to his shoes as he steps into the driveway.
Tommy closes the car door behind him, watching as Katie gets out the car, tucking a few stray hairs behind her ears and dusting off her skirt before motioning for him to follow her, which he reluctantly does.
They step up onto the porch, where Katie rings the doorbell, and Tommy takes note that it’s a fucking ring camera.
It takes a little less than a minute before a man with sandy blonde hair opens the door.
The man is around 5’9 if Tommy had to guess, he’s short enough that Tommy has to look down at him to look him in the eyes..
The man’s a lot less scary than he’d thought he’d be in all honesty.
At least off looks.
“Hello! Come on in, it’s cold out.” The man states, opening the door further for the pair, which Katie responds with a smile and something else Tommy decides to tune out, before following Katie inside, watching the blonde haired man as he closes the door behind them.
Tommy grimaces when he’s instantly hit with warmth, a warmth that he’s sure will make him too hot in a few minutes, hot enough to make him sweat, hot enough to remind him of the fire—
Tommy blinks that away though, and instead he looks around as he walks in, he steps onto a back rug in front of the door, to his right is a living room, with three couches, two pressed up against the walls, the main one in front of the TV, the wall behind the TV is a red brick, housing a lit fireplace with fireplace accessories hung up next to the opening of the fireplace.
To his left is a dining room, a brown, circular table with four chairs around it. And in front of him is a hallway, down it Tommy can assume it leads to the kitchen.
The man walks back around to be in front of the pair before stopping to look at Tommy “my name is Philza, feel free to call me Phil.” The man — Phil, states
Tommy looks at him before looking down at his shoes, opening his mouth to speak, though not getting a chance to before Katie does for him.
“His name is Tom Innes, he’s happy to be here.” She states, and Tommy can’t help the side eye he gives her, before rolling his eyes and looking back at Phil
“Tommy. It’s Tommy.”
Phil looks between the two for the moment before smiling awkwardly “okay. Well hi Tommy, it’s nice to meet you.” Phil states, before Katie turns her attention to the living room.
“Tommy, go wait in the living room, I need to speak with Phil.” She orders, and Tommy feels his stomach churn at the idea of being so close to the fireplace.
He doesn’t argue against it though, instead he just walks towards the living room and sits himself down onto the couch with the back facing the entrance, setting down his duffel bag besides his feet, keeping his eyes down at his shoes, there a pair of red converses.
The shoes themselves are old, almost too small for him, but still comfortable enough. Maybe not warm enough for the winter, but enough for him.
Tommy looks over his shoulder and watches as Phil and his social worker walks down the hallway, stupidly leaving Tommy alone.
Tommy looks around the room again, in the right corner of the room is a Christmas tree, decorated with ornaments, just regular ones, like the red, green and white ones with glitter sprinkled on them. Though there’s a few that are definitely personal.
There’s one that’s a wooden yellow, electric guitar, with the word “WILBUR SOOT” burned into the wood in all caps, next to it an ornament with two swords crossing each other with red handles, on the left sword is the word “Techno” and the right “Blade” burned into it In cursive, the last one is a green and white, stripped, bucket hat with the words “Philza” in what Tommy would say is neat handwriting.
They look.. old.. and handcrafted? Definitely not made by a professional.
Tommy stands up from the couch, eyeing the fireplace as he walks over to the Christmas tree, before looking at the sword ornament again, he cups it in his hand as he does.
Yeah, definitely handcrafted.
Tommy drops the ornament watching it swing a bit as it hangs off the tree, before he looks around again, huffing when he doesn’t see anything of interest.
Though he does move to the windows behind the couch pressed against the right wall, he stands on his knees of the couch cushion as he pulls the curtain to the side, and looking at the windowsill, and moving to unlock the window.
Just in case..
Tommy perks up when he hears two pairs of shoes coming back from the kitchen, making him move back to the original couch he was sitting on quickly.
Tommy looks over as the pair comes back, walking over to the living room. He specifically watches Phil’s face, the man— for all that Tommy knows they went over, he looks.. okay?
They went over his file, Tommy knows that. And there’s a lot in his file, like the fact he tried to kill himself for one, or the fact that he survived a house fire!
Or the fact that he hasn’t stayed in a foster home for more than two months.
Fun, fun, stuff y’know
Despite that Phil looks.. fine.
Tommy’s sure that it’s all an act though, it’ll be gone by the end of the week.
“I’m gonna be leaving now. Phil’ll explain everything to you. You know the drill, call me if you need anything.” Katie states, a fake sweetness laced in her words as she smiles at him.
Tommy just stiffly nods, looking down at his hands as Katie says her goodbyes to Phil before walking away, and soon Tommy hears the front door open and close behind her.
There’s a fat fucking pause, before Tommy looks up at Phil, seeing the man looking back at him, and they just.. stare..
Eventually it’s broken though
“I can show you up to your room if you’d like.” Phil asks, and Tommy barely thinks before nodding, it can’t be worse than sleeping on the garage floor..
Tommy grabs his bag, and pulls it over his shoulder once again before following Phil out of the living room and up the stairs.
The stairs themselves are old, and they creek every few steps. Tommy takes note of which ones creek and which ones don’t for future reference.
Once they get to the top of the steps, Phil leads Tommy down a hallway with four doors, the two on the right have signs on them, one with “Wilbur” and the other with “Techno” carved into them, while on the left side there’s one door without any sign and one with an empty sign.
“These are my boy’s bedrooms, they’re out with their friends right now, but I’ll be picking them up in an hour.” Phil states, and Tommy has to try and hold back his surprise at the fact he has not only one but two kids.
“How old are they?” Tommy questions, as they walk to the end of the hall, stopping in front of the door with the blank sign on it.
“Wilbur’s eighteen, Techno’s seventeen.”
Well shit
The good part about that is that Tommy won’t have to deal with little kids crowding his space. The worst part is he’ll have to deal with older kids in his space.
Probably..
Hopefully they ignore him.
“Anyway, this is your bedroom.” Phil states before opening the door, and walking into the room with Tommy following in suit.
The room itself is.. nice..
There’s a bed in the top right corner of the room, with a desk on the wall in front of the bed, a dresser pressed to the left side of the room.
It’s too nice for Tommy.. hell they even folded up a baby blue blanket on top of the bed, the blanket isn’t one of those heavy ones, it’s a fluffy one, kinda like what Tommy imagines a baby blanket would be like..
“It’s not much, but you coming here was very short notice. So we did the best with what we had. The bathroom is right next to your room, there’s a white toothbrush in there for you, along with floss and a small thing of mouthwash.” Phil explains, and it takes a second for Tommy to process the whole situation.
He’s just being nice to be nice.. they’re always like this in the beginning, they’re overly nice, they think they can “fix” the broken kid, and then when he’s not all rainbows and sunshine in a week they either send him away or decide to take worse measures to make him listen.
“Thank you..” Tommy says, though there’s not much weight behind the words, more just being polite. There’s no reason to push anything just yet..
“It’s no problem mate. Just get yourself comfortable, I’ll be downstairs if you need anything.” Phil states, and Tommy only hums in response before watching Phil go away.
Tommy immediately closes the door behind the man and locks it, the sound of the lock comforting to him, but the comfort soon gives way to restlessness as he takes in his surroundings.
There’s a few moments before he walks over to the bed, dropping his bag next to it, kneeling down before unzipping it.
His bag itself isn’t filled with much, just a few change of clothes, a toothbrush and a nearly empty bottle of toothpaste he stole, but most importantly, his phone.
His social worker notably doesn’t actually know about his phone— or, at least not his I-Phone. She knows about his old I-Pod.
He only has the damn thing because his friend Tubbo bought it for him, his dad is rich as fuckk so they didn’t even notice that he bought anything apparently.
Besides that, considering he’s constantly moving around there’s only so many times they can actually talk, most times they got for months without talking only for Tommy to text Tubbo on some shitty WIFI just to let him know he’s alive.
Though based on the house he’s sure he can get his hands on the WIFI password somehow.
Tubbo is his best friend. He’s known the boy since he was in 5th grade, and the only reason they keep in touch is because Tubbo had gotten the phone for him.
Tubbo is probably the only person he trusts.. which is saying something because Tommy doesn’t trust. Tommy hates people just as much as they hate him, but Tubbo had broken down his walls in a way that made him soft around the boy..
Tubbo grew up in a stable home for the most part, single dad though, mom died giving birth. Other than that though he’s had it easy, grew up rich, though that also meant moving a lot.. still, it’s only a life Tommy could dream of..
Still, even if Tubbo is a rich fuck, he’s not snobby or anything like that. Tommy would go out on a whim and say Tubbo’s the smartest person he knows! God only knows what Tommy would’ve done if Tubbo wasn’t there for him..
Tommy looks around the room once more, standing up as he pockets his phone, thinking for a moment before looking down at the bed, specifically staring at the blanket like it was some sort of trick..
If Tommy uses it then he’ll owe Phil something, but if he doesn’t then Phil’ll get mad at him for not doing something with the gift given..
So in the end Tommy picks it up and shifts it to the corner of the bed against the wall, if Phil asks about it he’ll just say he was planning on using it later on.
Tommy sits down on the edge of the bed, frowning when he realizes how soft the damn thing is..
It’s almost sickening how soft everything here is. It feels like a faux.. something fake just for him to get his hopes up before burning them in a fire..
Tommy lets out a tsk, clenching his hands into the thick blanket underneath him, before grabbing his phone out of his pocket.
Innes: yo bee boy wyd??
…
Bee boy: HOLY SHIT UR ALIVE!!!!
Bee boy: WHERE ARE U?? U DOING OK??
Tommy giggles quietly at Tubbo’s response, finding a pleasant warmth spreads through his chest at the reply, it was quick too..
Innes: At a fancy fuckin house rn
Innes: and yea, im fine. Been worse
Bee boy: GOOD!!! GOD IM SO HAPPY TO HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN!!!
Innes: wyd??
Bee boy: OH! HOMEWORK, ITS SUCKIMG THE SOUL OUTTA ME MAN 😭
Bee boy: SUCKING***
Innes: HA! Imagine having to do homework
Innes: fuckin looser
Innes: looser shit right there
Bee boy: STFU AT LEAST IM EDUCATED!!!
Tommy laughs at the banter, untying his shoes before throwing them off, along with his socks, he falls back against the (ridiculously soft) bed, just talking with Tubbo.
That’s how it is for the next half hour if Tommy had to guess.
Until a knock rings out from the door, making Tommy jump, sitting up straight in bed and tucking his phone into his pocket
“Um.. yeah?” Tommy yells out, feeling only slightly startled
“Can I come in?” Phil calls out, and Tommy is immediately met with an anxiousness when he looks down at the locked knob.
It takes a moment before Tommy gets up to unlock the door, and open it up to a slightly surprised face.
The surprise is gone as quickly as it came though once Phil looks Tommy in his eyes
“I’m gonna be leaving to pick up the boys here in a few minutes. I was wondering if you’d like to come with.” Phil questions, now leaving Tommy surprised.
“You obviously don’t have to, we were just gonna get something for lunch.. so I thought you might wanna join was..” Phil states, again leaving Tommy baffled
“Uh… I mean, sure?” Tommy says with a shrug, and Phil smiles warmly at him, “okay, do you want a thicker jacket than that? It’s snowing outside.” Phil questions, and Tommy looks down at himself
He’s wearing a plain white teen with a red jacket overtop, and a pair of jeans.
His jacket is old, tattered with patches sewn onto it to keep it from having holes in it, it’s certainly not the warmest thing ever.. but it’s his.. so he doesn’t need anything else..
It’d be too hot for a thick jacket anyway.
“No.. no I’m okay..” Tommy states, fingers tapping on the doorknob as he speaks, shifting from side to side as he stands in the doorway.
“Okay.. Well, let me know if you change your mind. Get ready, we’re gonna leave soon.” Phil states simply, and Tommy just nods.
“Got it..”
It can’t be that bad right..?
—
It is that bad.
This is fucking horrible.
It’s so awkward and the car is too hot, it’s too hot and it’s too stuffy..
At least he’s up in the front seat.
It doesn’t help that Tommy’s attention is split on everything at once, one moment he’s focused on the heat, the next he’s focusing on the way Phil’s fingers tap on the steering wheel, not to mention it feels like his clothes are fucking choking him—
“So, what food do you like?” Phil questions, glancing at him as he drives
Tommy blinks for a moment before responding “um.. I guess.. I guess I really like peas..” Tommy states, immediately regretting his words when Phil shoots him an odd look
“That’s, uh.. not quite what I meant mate..” Phil states with a small awkward chuckle coming to a stop at a red light
“I mean, what’d you like to eat out at? Like a fast food place or restaurant.” Phil details, making Tommy flush with embarrassment, his hand clenching into the back of his hair, pressing his head further into the window as he speaks, finding comfort in the cold glass against his skin.
“Oh.. I guess I-Hop..” Tommy states, leg bouncing as he speaks
Phil hums “Techno likes I-Hop too.. though we haven’t gone in a while.”
The conversation ends there, and Tommy doesn’t know whether to be grateful or not for it.
He’s happy it ended because it was awkward but it also leaves him to focus on the heat of the car more than anything else..
It’s suffocating, and Tommy can’t stand it..
—
Eventually Phil pulls into a parking lot of a local library. The building itself is small, cute, and probably cozy for the people who hang out there.
They sit in silence for a good minute before Phil speaks up “my boys should be out soon. I’ll introduce you to each other when they get in the car.” Phil announces to no one but Tommy. Grabbing his phone out of his back pocket, presumably texting his sons to tell them he’s there to pick them up.
Tommy hums in response, his free hand picking at his nail bed as he bites the inside of his cheek, anxious about even meeting Phil’s kids.
Tommy’s since come to the conclusion that their names are “Wilbur” and “Techno”
Ignoring the fact that they’re god awful names that only losers should have, Tommy doesn’t know anything about them.. which he should be used to by now considering he’s a fucking orphan.
Well, technically he is used to it, he just really hates it.
“ah there they are!” Phil states, smiling as he speaks, making Tommy look up, seeing two guys walk through the entrance of the library.
One looks like a living pintrest board, while the other looks like the fucking hulk.
Great, Tommy’s double fucked
The pair walk up to the car, the guy looking like the hulk walking to the back seat while the other walks to the front seat.
Tommy can’t even react properly before he’s hit with chilly wind, his door being pulled opened before locking his blue eyes with hazel colored ones.
They stare at each other awkwardly for a good few moments before the pintrest board of a man opens up his mouth.
“Your in my spot man—”
“Wilbur! Don’t be rude!” Phil scolds
…
“Do I need to move..?”
“No"
“Yes”
Phil and the brunette have a staring contest, silently communicating with each other, leaving Tommy feeling confused and out of place.
…
Tommy stares at the walking pintrest board for a few more moments, apparently he’s Wilbur.
Seriously, that’s a god awful name, whoever named him must’ve really hated him.
Tommy stays sitting, fidgeting with the hem of his jacket as he keeps his eyes locked onto the man.
“Y’know what. Whatever — dad! Let me drive!” Wilbur blurts out, looking past Tommy and towards Phil again, who almost looks like he’s about to have a heart attack just from the very thought of Wilbur driving.
“Absolutely not, last time I let you drive we crashed into a lamp post Will.” Phil states, and Wilbur rolls his eyes, before holding out his hand, wordlessly asking for the keys.
“C’mon, that was like — a year ago!” Wilbur complains with a pout.
“Seven months ago actually” The other man, Techno Tommy assumes — pitches in from the backseat.
“Shut up Techno Blade!” Wilbur hisses, no actual fire behind his words though.
“Just get in the backseat Will, we’re getting I-HOP for lunch.” Phil states with a sigh, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.
Wilbur lets out a grumble before mockingly mimicking the man’s words as he closes the passenger door and walking to the backseat. Climbing into the back, and closing the door with an overdramatic slam that makes Techno let out a huff of amusement.
Phil puts the car in drive, before pulling out the parking spot. And it only takes a few minutes before Wilbur leans over the center console, making Tommy scoot further towards the window to avoid being close to the man.
Tommy watches the man as he grabs the auxiliary cord, and plugs his phone in before turning to Tommy.
“Okay child, what’s your deal?”
Tommy blinks, bristling a bit at the words, fingers twisting into the fabric of his jeans.
“I am not a child.” Tommy states with a curl of his upper lip, annoyanc rising up in his chest.
“Yeah, sure whatever you say.. child”
“I am not—”
“What music do you like? I personally like more indie, or indie rock I guess.” Wilbur states casually.
Tommy’s brain short circuits at that, because what the absolute fuck.
This is not how meeting teenagers usually goes for Tommy.. especially when it comes to siblings, they normally hate his guts.
Well it’s still a bit too early to actually say if they hate his guts or not, right now they might like him, later they’ll hate him probably.
That’s how it always goes…
Tommy doesn’t answer Wilbur’s question for a good moment, the man’s too casual, too easy going, and he’s way too fuckin close.
Tommy doesn’t even know what indie rock is, the only music he really even listens to is Tubbo’s, some sort of rock, other than that he’s only ever heard religious music..
So safe to say Tommy was extremely confused.
Tommy considers telling him that he likes rock music but immediately hesitating with his statement.
He wouldn’t technically be lying.. but what if Wilbur questions him on like what kinda bands he likes or the name of some songs..
Tommy really doesn’t wanna deal with that..
“I.. I don’t know?” Tommy replies, hesitant in his response.
Wilbur stares at him blankly, shutting up for the first time since he got to the car, blinking slowly as his eyebrows furrow.
“You.. don’t know?” Wilbur questions awkwardly, making Techno glance up at the man.
“Um.. no.. I’m not— uh, a music guy..” Tommy states, fidgeting with his hands in his lap, shifting a bit in his seat, uncomfortable with how the brunette is looking at him.
The pair sit in uncomfortably awkward silence for a good minute before the man speaks up.
“Oh.. then, I guess I can just play my music..? See if you like it yeah?” Wilbur states with a questioning tone to the end of his sentence.
Tommy’s fingers twist into his jeans, fidgeting with the fabric as he nods “yeah, sounds good..” Tommy states, before turning his head back around quickly, ending the conversation as he looks down at his worn-out sneakers.
The ride continues with Phil pulling out of the parking lot, Wilbur sitting back in the middle seat, and Techno reading a book from what Tommy can see through the review mirror.
The drive itself is short, but long enough for a few songs to play, Tommy can’t help but listen to them, he didn’t get the names of most of them, but apparently one of them is called “Cradles” the songs to Tommy were.. good..
Lunch itself went uneventful, Tommy got a club sandwich with fries, though he only ate half the sandwich.
The only interesting part of it was that Techno was allowed to get pancakes.
Other than that Tommy just sat in the corner of the booth, where he (luckily) got to cool down a bit. The building itself not too hot despite the fact it’s snowing outside.
—
While dinner itself wasn’t eventful, the same can’t be said for the drive back to the house.
Instead of sitting up in the front seat like before, he’s forced into the back after Wilbur had ran to the car to get into the front seat, with Phil and Techno claiming the same places again.
While the front seat was hot, Tommy just moved the air vents away from him, which helped.
In the backseat though, the vents couldn’t be closed, and with a jacket on it made Tommy feel like he was fucking burning.
Tommy shifts in his seat, leg bouncing up and down as he presses his head closer to the car window, shooting a glance at Techno as uncomfortably hot air washes over him, making his skin heat up quickly.
Tommy looks down at his feet, watching as the snow from outside melts into the cloth of his shoes and into his socks as he feels a bead of sweat run down the side of his face.
“Tom—”
Tommy presses his head further against the cold window of the car as he shifts more in his seat, as a buzzing sound grows pitched in his ears, muffling everything around him.
“Tomm—”
Tommy shifts once more, moving a hand to the collar of his shirt, pulling it away from his neck as his pulse beats in his throat, smoke filling his senses.
It’s too fucking hot, just like the fire, just like the house when it all happened—
And the fucking smoke—
Tommy jolts when a hand lands on his shoulder, snapping his head to look at the person who touched him, a pair of—
Red eyes? Stare into his own, and it takes Tommy a moment to realize it’s Techno who’s staring at him.
“Tommy? Are you okay?” Techno questions, and Tommy stays silent for a moment as he forces himself to suppress a shiver as the heat from Techno’s hand spreads further through him.
“Y—yeah, yeah I’m okay..” Tommy states nervously, wiping his hands on his jeans, not able to help the way his eyes shift from Techno’s face to his arm every few seconds.
Techno stares at Tommy for a moment before looking down at his own arm, only waiting a second before pulling it off Tommy’s shoulder.
“You seem hot, you can roll the window down for a moment if you’d like.” Techno murmurs, gesturing vaguely towards the window behind Tommy.
Before Tommy can even respond, there’s a whine from Wilbur in the front seat, and Tommy watches as the man turns to look at the pair, holding out his arm as he does.
“Just drink this.”
Tommy looks down at the mans hand, which is holding a baby blue colored water bottle, which Tommy snatches from the man, a little more quickly than he’d like to admit to.
Wilbur turns himself back around, not bothering to watch Tommy chug down three gulps of water.
Tommy feels the ice cold water fill his mouth, brushing past his teeth, causing a brief, and sharp pain, though the feeling of the water running down his throat makes him ignore the prickly sensation.
Though unlike Wilbur, Techno does watch him, and once Tommy realizes that he shoots the man a glare, before veering his head to the window.
Tommy’s still hot, but he doesn’t feel as smothered by the heat now, not like before, he doesn’t smell smoke anymore either..
The water bottle ends up empty only halfway through the drive.
—
Eventually they get back to the house, and the second they’re parked Tommy opens up the car door, letting out a sigh of relief when the freezing air hits his face.
He walks up to the front porch, reaching his hand (that isn’t holding the water bottle) out to the door knob, twisting it though quickly realizing the door is very locked.
Tommy frowns at the realization, forcing him to wait by the door as we watches the three get out of the car.
Watching as Phil walks up to the porch, followed by Techno and then Wilbur.
Phil unlocks the door, and Tommy lets the three walk in first before going in last, closing the door behind himself.
Tommy doesn’t waste any time before heading straight up to his room, locking the door behind him with a sigh.
He chucks the stupid water bottle that Wilbur gave him onto the bed, along with his hoodie, the fluff of the inside damp with sweat, his heart beating too quickly in his chest, as he swallows down his nerves.
He’s not as shaken as he was in the car, not in a panic at least. But he’s not anywhere near content..
Tommy runs a hand through his hair, grimacing when he feels it sticky with sweat still, making it more tangled than it already was.
Fuck he seriously needs a shower..
Tommy looks down at his arms, breathing heavily as he looks over the scars all along them, he doesn’t want anyone else to see them..
Tommy grabs his hoodie and shoves it back on despite how the feeling of dampness makes him cringe.
He then leans down to take off his shoes, along with his socks, stuffing his socking into his shoes. Leaving them by the edge of his bed as he walks to his bag, grabbing an extra pair of clothes out of it, followed by him shoving the duffel bag underneath his bed, and then finally walking to the door.
He opens it up, and closes it behind him once he’s in the carpeted hallway.
He swiftly walks down the hall and into the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him followed by setting his clothes down on the countertop before checking the cabinets for towels.
He finds four, a pink one and a dark blue one, and two very, white towels with pink stains on them.
Tommy sighs, assuming that his best bet is to use one of the stained towels, better to use them than the clean ones.
He grabs one of the stained towels, and puts it on the toilet lid. Then he opens the shower curtain, turning on the water. Making sure it’s just lukewarm, before he undresses and gets into the shower.
The water itself is almost cold, though warm enough that it doesn’t leave Tommy shivering.
Tommy looks between the stuff on the shelves in the corners of the shower, both shelves notably stocked up relatively full.
One has a bunch of curly hair products, along with leave in conditioner, body wash, a razor, some oils that Tommy has no idea about, and shaving cream.
The other has the same things just without the curly hair products and a lot more hair care stuff from what Tommy assumes.
Tommy grabs the normal shampoo and conditioner, looking the bottle over, before opening it, and smelling it.
It smells like.. strawberries if Tommy had to guess.. though after reading the bottle apparently it’s supposed to smell like raspberries.
Tommy’s never even had a raspberry, let alone knew what they smell like.
Tommy puts the bottle down before grabbing the curly hair shampoo or.. whatever it is..
This one smells like fucking chemicals to Tommy, though the bottle says it’s meant to smell like coconut.
Again, Tommy hasn’t ever even had a coconut, how the fuck would you even eat one?
Tommy decides not to think about it much, doesn’t matter now, he’s not gonna use the coconut one anyway, plus it’s almost empty.
Tommy doesn’t take that long of a shower really, just washes himself off before getting out of the shower.
He dries off, and puts on his clothes, pajamas specifically. A white tank top and a pair of sweatpants, plus an old hoodie of his.
Theres some parts of the hoodie That are discolored from bleach, specifically a big spot on his left sleeve, a few blotches on the back and hood, and a few smaller ones near the pocket.
The clothes are maybe three years old, having been forced to get new clothes when he hit a major growth spurt, though the hoodie is only a year old. It was apparently Tubbo’s dad’s that he stole.
Tubbo had mailed it to him after Tommy had told him about how little clothes he had. There wasn’t much he could get Tommy because he didn’t have money, specifically having used up his allowance for the month, so he just sent him the comfiest hoodie he could think of.
It was nice.. it’s still nice, something Tommy has a difficult time digesting sometimes..
Tommy shakes his head at his thoughts, instead focusing on picking up the towel, un-scrunching it up and throwing it over the shower rod to dry.
Tommy looks at the towel, focusing on the pink stains, it’s odd to Tommy.
He’s stayed in a lot of houses where if he even thought of using a white rag to clean up juice he’d get slapped silly.
But.. it’s probably stupid, Phil doesn’t seem like the kind of man who’d punish his kids for making mistakes, even common sense ones.
Yeah that’s probably it, Phil probably just is too soft and won’t actually deal with his kids like he should, made ‘em brats..
Yeah that’s what it is.
It’s as simple as that.
Phil doesn’t care enough about his kids..
He doesn’t care enough about his adopted kids.. who he had to foster at some point..
Tommy isn’t adopted though.
He’s just a stupid foster kid.
That’s it.
Tommy picks his dirty clothes up off the countertop, before opening the bathroom door open to an empty hallway.
Thank god
Tommy really isn’t in any mood to deal with Phil’s bratty ass fuckin kids.
So he just walks to his room, and locks the door behind him once he’s inside it.
Tommy shoves his dirty clothes back into his duffel bag again, before walking back over to his bed and flopping down onto the plush mattress, ignoring the throbbing in his bruise as he does.
It’s a really soft fuckin mattress..
It’s almost gross in all honesty.
Even if his body sinks into it like it’s fucking marshmallow..
It’s gross Tommy decides.
But better than nothing..
Gods he’s exhausted, he hasn’t even done anything yet except have lunch. It’s not even dinner time.
Tommy rolls onto his side, facing the door, blinking slowly as he thinks over what happened in the day.
He thinks about the people in this house.
The strangers in this house..
Phil.. Phil seems fine but he doesn’t seem like he has a backbone, which is probably better for Tommy.
Wilbur’s just fucking weird Tommy’s decided, just a weirdo who doesn’t know shit about shit.
And then Techno.. he’s also weird, but in more of the awkward nerd in the back of the class kinda weird.
Though Tommy hasn’t actually spoke to him really, he can’t stop thinking about the fact he at least looked like he had red eyes..
Maybe Tommy is finally loosing it, it could’ve been a trick of the light, but it was really fucking clear to Tommy that he had red eyes..
Maybe contacts? That seems most likely..
Fuck he needs sleep if he’s actually loosing it like this.
He probably just had brown eyes and the sun just hit his eyes at an odd angle.
So even with his thoughts going a thousand miles an hour, he turns himself onto his other side, facing the wall and closes his eyes.
Eventually he does fall asleep, even if it’s around an hour later.. he falls asleep.
He’ll deal with everything when he wakes up.