Chapter Text
“At least try to act normal,” His social worker grunted, as the car rolled to a stop. “It was hell to find someone that would take you.”
Tommy remained silent, clutching his backpack closer to his chest. It was red, faded, and threadbare, but it had held together for almost six years.
He slid out of the car, not sweating in the heat despite the hoodie and sweatpants he was wearing. He resisted the urge to pull the hood up over his head; he wanted to make at least a half-decent first impression.
“Nod, smile, and don’t mess this up or you’ll end up in another halfway house.” The man-- Tommy had forgotten his name-- growled in Tommy’s ear. Tommy nodded, trying to smooth down his hair.
The man knocked on the door and stepped back. Tommy stood on the third stair from the top, watching the door apprehensively. The man was tapping his foot impatiently when the door burst open.
“Sorry!” A man stood in the doorway, he was tall, with not-quite shoulder-length blonde hair and blue eyes only a slightly different shade than Tommy’s. “I lost track of time!”
“It’s alright.” The man said dismissively. “You’re Phil, right? I’ll let you take it from here.”
“Oh yes of course,” Phil called, before turning his attention to Tommy, who self consciously tugged his hair down over his left eye. Phil smiled. “Tommy, right? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Phil.”
“Hullo.” Tommy said, avoiding Phil’s eyes.
“Uh, why don’t you come inside?” Phil said hurriedly, ushering Tommy inside. Tommy adjusted his grip on the backpack and stepped into the house.
It was ordinary in every way; they walked into a living room with a couch, some comfortable-looking armchairs, a tv. He could see a doorway, leading into what must be the kitchen. There was another door, but this one was closed.
“Where should I go?” Tommy asked.
“You’ve got a room,” Phil said quickly. “Upstairs-- here, follow me.”
Tommy nodded and followed Phil up the stairs. They made their way through the house.
Phil stopped abruptly and Tommy nearly slammed into his back.
“Here! Your room!” Phil smiled and Tommy nodded, slipping past Phil and into the room. Phil shut the door behind him, and Tommy let out the breath he’d been holding and allowed himself to push the hair away from his eye.
The room was pretty empty, with a nice-looking bed, a closet. Tommy caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and made a face. He wondered if Phil knew about his eye.
He shuffled over to the mirror and stared. He blinked, pulled at the skin under his eye, and let his face fall back into its usual scowl. His right eye was perfectly normal, a clear, ocean blue. But his left was milky and empty, had been for as long as he could remember.
He tore his eye away from the mirror, flopping onto the bed and opening his backpack. His change of clothes was still there, along with his cow.
It was a small, wooden toy, but he couldn’t bring himself to throw it away. Instead, he shoved it under his clothes and pulled out his notebook.
He rarely drew, the notebook was full of nonsensical scribbles that his hand drew almost of its own accord. He usually kept this hidden too, since he didn’t really know how to explain the creepy doodles to his new foster parents.
A knock sounded on the door and Tommy jumped out of his skin. He cursed the floorboard of the house for not creaking and shoved everything back in his backpack.
“It’s dinner time!” A voice Tommy didn’t recognize called through the door.
“Uhm,” Tommy said quietly, combing his hair over his eye. “Coming!” It wasn’t that late in the evening, was it? Tommy frowned and hurried over to the door. There wasn’t anyone waiting for him in the hall, thankfully, so he made his own way down the stairs.
Phil was already sitting at the table, along with a brown-haired boy wearing a beanie. Phil smiled when he saw Tommy, but the beanie boy didn’t turn around.
Tommy stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment, until Phil ushered him over to the table. Tommy shifted on his chair, his eyes darting to the brown-haired boy and then back to his plate.
Phil kept peering into the hallway as if waiting for someone else to arrive. Obviously, he was, since a boy with shoulder-length pink hair appeared, dragging his feet down the hallway.
Tommy frowned. Were the other kids foster kids too? This family looked nothing alike.
“Tommy, this is Wilbur,” Phil motioned to the boy in a beanie, who nodded at Tommy. “And Techno.”
“Hi,” Techno said lazily, piling pasta onto his plate.
“You’re going to be staying together for… ah, we should get along!” Phil smiled encouragingly.
“‘Kay,” Wilbur said, picking up a piece of pasta with his fingers and sticking up his middle finger when Techno made a face at him.
Phil chuckled nervously and cast a sidelong glance at Tommy. Tommy met his gaze and Phil quickly looked away.
It was an alright dinner, better than most of his first nights. From what Tommy could see, Phil wasn’t that bad of a guy. He never judged books by their covers, though, he’d made that mistake before.
Techno was alright, though the hair was a bit off-putting. Wilbur seemed a little annoying, but he wasn’t aggressive or anything. Tommy didn’t eat much, he never did. Techno and Wilbur both cleared their plates and left once they were done eating, so Tommy did the same and Phil made no move to stop him.
Back in his room, he grabbed his mp3 player. It was tiny-- and probably super outdated, he’d stolen it years ago, the songs had all been chosen by him when he was nine and he had listened to them all so many times he knew them all by heart.
Still, it was better than silence, so he tucked the earphones into his ears and wiggled underneath the covers.
“Okay.” He whispered. “Please, please don’t let anything weird happen.”
This house seemed good. Contrary to the belief of his social workers, he liked staying at real homes. They were better than halfway-houses, at least.
He didn’t try to make weird things happen, they just sort of… did. If he thought hard enough he could usually control them, so that’s what he did.
“Please, please, please,” He whispered under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t want to ruin this.”
Dreams were a strange thing for Tommy. He usually had the same one; it would probably be classified as a nightmare if he told anyone about it, but it didn’t scare him.
He was in a dark space, barefoot and wearing his blue and white striped pajamas. The floor was wet, but there was no splashing sound when he walked. There was no sound at all, he didn’t have to breathe, or blink.
He walked forward because that’s what he always did, ignoring the hands reaching out towards him. They were trying to pull him off his path, but he kept walking forward. He had to walk forward because that’s what he always did.
The hands didn’t scare him. If one were to grab him and yank him off, away, into the darkness, he would probably let it.
The hand couldn’t reach him though, and he didn’t bother testing what would happen if he let it.
Sometimes he thought about these dreams when he woke up, but for some reason, the dreams had a different sort of clarity when he was asleep. When he was awake, he considered exploring the black space. He wondered how he knew there was a path when it was nothing but blackness, and he wondered if it had something to do with his eye.
He let his dreams seep into his drawings. When he drew hands, they were messily scribbled in, and they were reaching.
He drew them reaching up, reaching down, he didn’t know where they were reaching in his dreams.
It didn’t really matter.
Eventually, he was done walking. He knew he was done walking. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew, but it was time to stop walking.
So he stopped, and his eyes snapped open.
The room was flooded with light, and Tommy squinted at the window. He hadn’t really paid them much mind, but there were two windows in his room. They did have curtains, but the curtains were the white, silky translucent kind that Tommy hated.
He pulled himself out of bed and changed into his second pair of clothes. He made a mental note to himself to look for a washing machine since he didn’t want to wear dirty clothes forever.
The room didn’t have a clock. He’d have to snatch one from a different room. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and froze.
“Shit,” he muttered.
The entire room was… hovering. About an inch above the floor. The bed, the carpet, the desk, the bedside table. It was as if all gravity had left the room.
He slid off the bed and stepped onto the carpet. The carpet felt sort of like it was underwater. He hurried around the room, pushing the furniture to the ground. Once he pushed the furniture down, it would stay. He stood in the middle of his room, making sure everything was back on the ground.
He sighed. It shouldn’t have been this bad, especially since he’d focused so much on stopping it.
He grabbed his pillow, yanked off the pillowcase, and pulled it down over his mirror.
He shouldered his door and almost ran into Phil, whose hand was raised to knock.
“Oh!” Phil said, blinking. “You’re awake. Why don’t you come down for breakfast?”
Tommy nodded and tugged his hair over his eye, trailing behind Phil.
Techno and Wilbur were already downstairs, and the silence from yesterday was replaced with bickering.
“You,” Wilbur said, pointing his spoon at Techno’s nose, “Are a bitch.”
“And you’re ridiculous!” Techno said, moving the spoon away from his face with his pointer finger.
“There is nothing ridiculous about stating a fact!” Wilbur seethed. Both he and Techno either hadn’t noticed Tommy and Phil or were choosing to ignore them.
“There’s nothing wrong with anteaters.”
“They’re the spawn of Satan!” Wilbur groaned.
“They’re furry mammals that eat ants!” Techno said exasperatedly.
“There’s something off about them.” Wilbur took a savage bite of cereal. “I’m telling you.”
Techno made a face and muttered something under his breath, and the table fell silent again. Tommy had a couple bites of cereal and then took to poking around the floating cheerios to the bottom of the bowl.
“I’ve got some news!” Phil said, clapping his hands together. “Tommy, you start school tomorrow!”
Tommy choked on his cereal. “W- tomorrow?”
“Yup,” Phil said happily. “Don’t worry, the school we go to is great. It’s really small, and the middle and high schoolers share a building so Techno and Wilbur can walk you to class.”
Wilbur nodded in agreement and Techno let out a noncommittal huff.
“Oh… ‘kay,” Tommy said, shoving a spoonful of soggy cereal into his mouth so he wouldn’t have to speak anymore.
“You don’t have school supplies, do you?” Phil asked, and the table fell into silence again as Tommy hurriedly finished chewing his food. He was nervous-- he’d been at houses that hated it when he talked with his mouth full and houses that hated it when he waited long to answer questions. Luckily, this house didn’t seem like the latter.
“I don’t,” Tommy mumbled. “I’ve got a backpack. And a pencil.”
“Okay,” Phil nodded. “You’re dressed, right? How about we go shopping right now?”
“Fine with me. I need new glasses.” Techno added.
“Ugh, no, you take forever to pick out new frames.” Wilbur stuck out his tongue.
“I do not!” Techno said incredulously.
“You do. You stare for hours and then get the same boring black frames.” Wilbur snatched Techno’s glasses off his face. “Geez, your eyesight is awful.”
Techno frowned and took back his glasses. “You have glasses too.”
“Yeah, but I don’t need to wear mine all the time. Plus, they’re fashionable.” Wilbur glanced at Tommy. “Hey, Tommy. Do you wear glasses?”
“Hu--? Oh, no…” Tommy resisted the urge to pull his hair further over his eye.
“Lucky,” Techno said longingly. “Phil, I’ve got to change.”
“Alright,” Phil said.
“Same!” Wilbur chorused.
Tommy stayed downstairs and followed Phil over to the door. Phil pulled on his shoes, and Tommy did the same. He caught Phil eyeing his ratty old sneakers, and frowned. At least his toe wasn’t poking out or something, they were just dirty.
Wilbur came down next, dressed in a brown sweater and a collared shirt, along with Khaki pants. Tommy still didn’t understand why those pants were in fashion nowadays, they reminded him of what his old math teacher had worn.
Techno came down last. He was also wearing a sweater, but it wasn't styled like Wilbur’s, just baggy.
Tommy felt slightly out of place in his plain old hoodie and sweatpants, no one had told him it was a sweater party.
Phil and Wilbur took the front seats, leaving Tommy with Techno in the back. Tommy wasn’t sure if he and Techno had spoken a single word directly to each other the whole two days Tommy had been at Phil’s.
The driveway was long and gravely. Tommy hadn’t really noticed on the way there, but the house was pretty far from the road. It was in a nice-looking neighborhood, though the sky was cloudy and the air was damp, and Wilbur pointed out the school as they passed.
They had not been exaggerating when they said it was small. It was about a third the size of Tommy’s old middle school, and according to Phil this was both the middle and highschool.
Tommy wasn’t sure if this was a good or a bad thing; on one hand, he had fewer potential bullies, on the other people would be more tight-knit and he would be more easily identifiable as an outcast.
The car made its way into the parking lot of what must have been the world’s smallest mall.
Okay, it wasn’t that small, but it wasn’t even half the size of the mall in Tommy’s old town. This was definitely a pro, less mall space meant fewer people in the mall which meant fewer people.
Fewer people was always good.
The shopping was surprisingly not terrible. Wilbur picked Tommy out most of his supplies, and Techno wandered behind them. Phil pushed the cart and offered occasional insight into Wilbur’s decisions, and Tommy got to drift along and nod his head when Wilbur offered him a pencil case.
Techno took about half an hour picking out a new glasses frame, which wouldn’t have been so unbearable if not for the fact that Wilbur was complaining the entire time.
They crowded back into the car, and Tommy was feeling just the tiniest better about this new foster family.
Maybe they weren’t all bad.
Though the thought assured him, he still tugged his hair down over his eye.
They had what Phil called a ‘dunch’, a.k.a a late lunch and early dinner.
“Night!” Wilbur said cheerfully.
“Night.” Techno sighed.
“Goodnight everybody!” Phil looked expectantly at Tommy.
“Good… night?” Tommy offered weakly, and Phil seemed satisfied.
So Tommy found himself alone in his room again. Hopefully, tonight, nothing crazy would happen.