Chapter Text
The plan is simple. Or at least it was, in theory. Tommy had it all mapped out, what path to take through the winding city streets, where to stop for his last meal, even what building will be the lucky one to grace the final moments of Tommy Danger-Kraken Innit. Not his actual name, but then again, his parents never did get around to naming him anything proper, neither did any of his previous so-called “families” deign to give him any sort of normal name. He picked his own name, and it was a damn good one, thank you very much. It will be a fun one for some random grave digger to etch into a slab of concrete. If he even gets a grave.
Tommy takes a long, tired look at the room he was given in the group home one last time. It was filled with so many memories. He could see his former social worker, Puffy, bringing him back to this room for the first time after his parents’ death. Overdose is a nasty thing, especially bearing witness to it in the moment, and even more so as a six-year-old. The cold, musty house that had been his sanctuary for the beginning of his life never truly felt like home, and he supposes this didn’t really count as one either, though it is sadly close. If he squints, he can see the phantom image of his past self, all doe-eyed and scared of all the noise and newness of what was basically an apartment complex filled with children of varying ages. God only knows how the organization is still going strong. But what was once scary, over time became familiar in the disappointing way getting an F on a pop quiz is familiar. It’s surprising, each time a family deems him worthy enough to be let into their abode, yet each time without fail he is sent back to the crowded jungle of disappointed adult faces and knowing looks of the other foster kids stuck in the same boat as him.
Tommy wrinkles his nose at his perfectly made bed and clean floor (well, as clean as a floor can be in a place this shitty), almost regretting how the cleanup of his existence will be so much easier for the workers here. Step one: leave as little a trace as possible. With a quiet scoff, he turns and crawls out the window of the fifth story, tiptoeing his way down the rickety iron stairwell on the side of the building. He winces with every creak and sway, certain his plan will go awry somehow (leave it to Tommy to mess everything up) till, finally, he’s back on solid and much more quiet ground. Well, he’s quiet at least. The hustle and bustle of a city this large tends to never stay quiet, no matter how much you wish it would. A grin stretches across Tommy’s face as he makes his way towards his final destination: BigInnit Hotel.
Tommy can feel the beat of the city thrum in his veins as he casually strolls along the pavement like it was laid in the ground just for him to step on. A part of him is sad to be leaving this place after fourteen years of a miserable existence, but if he is being honest, he’s more so relieved to be leaving all that pain behind him before going into the next life. Or perhaps there is just nothing, a black void of calm with open space to be what he was always destined to be: alone. Soft neon lights beam down from various shop windows he passes, bouncing off his golden hair. Cars speed past him well over the limit, the wind of it lifting his slightly worn down red and white jumper he got from a foster brother three houses ago. It’s cotton and polyester soft in a bittersweet, comforting manner. It is the best bit of cloth he's got, and Tommy thinks he wouldn’t trade the comfort of it in his final hour for anything in the world. It’s all too much, too fast, too loud, too soft. It’s perfect.
Through the smog and the smoke of the manhole covers, Tommy can pick up the sweet scent of chocolate and brown sugar drifting from a small shop just a few steps ahead of him. Right, step two, he thinks passively, get something good for your last meal. Preferably something sweet. And by God, did Niki’s baked goods sound like they would hit the spot. Off the side of Prime Avenue, just a few buildings down from the group home, he spots it; the quaint and tidy shop run by the sweetest woman Tommy has ever met still glowing with soft light from inside. Whenever he felt the craving for sweets, he would scrounge up enough cash (some of it may have been from Puffy’s wallet, and if Puffy knew, she never mentioned it) and buy a bag of fresh cookies from her. Now, Tommy isn’t stupid; hopping house to house will usually guarantee you never make a mistake. So, he is smart enough to know that whenever his back is turned, Niki bumps the price down for him. It isn’t something he asked for, and they won’t ever talk about it either. And if he conveniently turns to the rest of the store to make a scathing remark about the last customer’s haircut until he hears the beep! of the cash register behind him, neither of them notices.
Tinkling bells chime his arrival to the vacant store as Niki looks up at him, smiling that soft smile she reserves for people close to her. He’s seen that smile before given to some of her regulars, and a tiny, traitorous part of him is begging him to give her a hug and march right back down to the group home just to spare her feelings. Tommy shakes his head, ridding himself of the thought immediately. Niki leans on the broom she’s holding, sweeping currently put on pause.
“Ayup, Niki,” Tommy says, shooting her his best I’m-a-little-shit-but-you-love-me smile.
“Hello, Tommy,” she sighs in her yeah-I’m-not-falling-for-it voice, “you know we closed five minutes ago.”
He sighs with a fake forlornness. “Yes, I know, but I simply wanted a cookie. You wouldn’t deny a cookie from a poor little orphan boy, would you?” He pouts his bottom lip and widens his eyes in the saddest expression he can muster. “I’m doing the puppy eyes at you, Niki. You cannot resist them.”
Niki’s face scrunches up and she lets out a snort of laughter. Setting the broom against the counter, she moves behind the register, adjusting cookies and brownies in their stands as she goes. “Well,” she says with laughter still in her voice, “as enchanting as the puppy eyes are, I’m afraid the registers are already counted down.”
Tommy blinks owlishly at her. “Niki, the best and most poggest woman ever, I don’t know what the fuck that means.”
“It means that I can’t accept money for the cookies, Tommy. I had a slow night, so the money is already put up in the safe.”
A dejected noise slips from his mouth before he can stop himself. He was really betting on those cookies! It’s not like he can calmly explain himself to her: “Oh, but Niki, you don’t understand! These cookies are meant to be the last good thing I have in this world as I plan on killing myself tonight.” The cops being called would completely throw his whole plan out of whack. During his inward spiral, Niki’s smile falters at the noise and she really takes a closer look at the boy.
His clothes are sparse for how cold it is at this time of night, especially in the big city where the wind whips cruelly through the alleyways. All he has is a threadbare jumper and some ripped-up khakis. His shoes have seen better days, a hole in the right shoe held together by duct tape just barely saving his toes. There are bags under his eyes, which admittedly is not too out of the ordinary for a teenager, but Niki has a gut feeling that he hasn’t had a good night’s rest in a long time. Three years of seeing this boy enter her shop, three years of getting to know him better, yet she feels like she barely knows him at all.
“Perhaps,” she says calmly, “I can make an exception for my most loyal customer, just this once.”
Tommy is jolted out of his thoughts and glances back up at her. There’s pity radiating from her gaze (it’s not concern, he tells himself it’s not), which burns his ego more than a lit cigarette to the back of his hand. Pity is something that Tommy has been given his whole life, yet never once has he asked for it. It’s something adults do when they finally understand his fucked-up circumstances, how much of a screw-up he is, how things could have ended up differently for him if the universe wasn’t such a cruel thing. His expression sours slightly, but he tries not to let it show too much. After all, if Niki is still offering the cookies, he’d be a dumbass if he didn’t take her up on that.
“Thanks, Niki. Means a lot to me tonight, y’know?”
He exits the little shop a bit more determined and clutching a paper bag of still hot, chocolate chunk cookies. The streets are still full of life around him as he firmly places one tattered shoe in front of the other. People shuffle past him, all wearing similar expressions of annoyance and mild panic as they rush to get to their destination. Fortunately for Tommy, his final destination isn’t very far, both in this world and the next. A few streets down, make a turn at the third streetlamp, hop over the ever-present puddle next to the drainage area of the pavement and suddenly, the big, shiny double doors are directly in front of him. The hotel glows with a bright light, highlighting Tommy’s pale skin with sick shades of red and white. BigInnit Hotel is truly a mastery of craftsmanship, a sight to behold with its towering height, red and black sleek color scheme, and glowing red sign on top. If Tommy were a rich man, he would remove the sign that so wrongly says “MANIFOLD” in bright red neon at the building’s apex and replace it with the name it so rightly deserved. No matter, better things to do, he thinks as he pushes on the revolving doors and is blasted with the warmth of the interior heaters. For all intents and purposes, this is my building for the next thirty minutes.
The front desk is managed by a tall man with green hair and dark bags under his eyes. Tommy can spot the cup of espresso the man is nursing gingerly, as if his life depends on it. The man’s eyes lock onto him the second the doors close, eyeing him curiously and smiling way too warmly this late into the night.
“Welcome to The Manifold Hotel! Are you looking for a room, or are your parents here and you need the room key?”
It takes all of Tommy’s self-restraint to not outwardly flinch at the man’s statement. Of course, it’s only logical that he would look at Tommy, not yet old enough to be on his own, and assume he had parents here. But man, did that sting in a place he thought couldn’t get hurt anymore. He walks a bit closer to the desk, now glancing at the floor and noticing the wastebasket filled to the brim with old coffee cups. Well, that explains why he’s so fucking chipper. The man, who Tommy can now label as ”Mr. Nook” with the shiny metal nameplate facing him, follows his gaze and chortles at the mess next to him.
“Ahhh, I meant to clean that up earlier! My apologies, but it takes quite a bit to keep me going this late! Been here all day, you see, and with all the stray cats hanging around, my work has been downright exhausting! Now, about your room?”
“O-oh, no,” Tommy stammers and places a hand on the back of his neck, acting sheepishly and closer to his age than he has in a while, “I’m here for my big brother, y’see he works the janitorial staff here! Yeah, I just brought him a treat and I need to get up to the top floor. He likes to eat up on the roof this time of night, like a weirdo. Mum says it’ll kill him one of these days, hahaah…”
The words feel bitter and thick as he pushes them past his lips. Talking about how he has a brother and a mother like he’s some sickeningly sweet little boy; it makes his heart beat faster and his stomach clench at the thought of his real mother’s gaunt face and lifeless eyes staring into the night sky. He never had the mother who made him breakfast in the mornings and kissed him on the cheek, nor the father who helped him with bullies in school or congratulated him on his first high marks. But this man didn’t need to know that; all he needed to do was smile and nod in agreement and let Tommy go on his merry way to hell.
“Oh, Nathaniel never mentioned having a kid brother to me! Maybe he told Ponk, he is the more sociable one.”
Tommy looks at him skeptically, sweating just the tiniest bit. “Then why isn’t he managing the front desk?”
The man chortles at his statement with a bit of a smug look on his face. “Well, if Ponk could make sure riff-raff stays out of the hotel as well as I can, then I’d like to see him manage the desk from time to time! Unfortunately, not just anyone can man the Manifold Hotel. Gotta have a lot of stamina.”
“And coffee, apparently.”
“Well, yes, that… that too…,” he looks at Tommy warmly, only making the boy feel more and more anxious with every minute he isn’t making his way up to the roof. He spins in his chair and points to the grand elevator behind him. “You’re going to want to make your way up to the very top and then take the flight of stairs leading to the rooftop. Nathaniel should open the doors for you, just be sure to let him know that I will be lecturing him about hotel safety eating up on the roof this late at night.”
“Y-yes sir, I’ll be sure to let him know,” Tommy says as he sags a bit in relief. His plan is still going through, just a couple of hitches here and there, but he was getting closer to being free. The elevator announces its arrival to the lobby and a rowdy couple push past him, ignoring the child they almost trampled over and laughing their way to the revolving doors. He hears the Nook guy tsk behind him, and he catches the man shaking his head and glaring at the settling doors.
“Some people these days…sorry about that, kiddo.”
“People are assholes,” Tommy finds himself saying truthfully, “not my problem. But thanks again for your help Mr. Nook. I’ll be on my way.”
“You can call me Sam,” the man responds as Tommy steps into the biggest elevator he has ever been in.
“Tommy,” he says quietly as the doors close, not sure if Sam heard him or not. The ride up is surprisingly short. There is not a lot of time for retrospection. Fine by him, honestly. Manifold hotel Big Innit hotel was a rather tall building, a very impressive one, but by God, they could have some better elevator music. The floors pass one by one till the doors open at the peak of its line. There’s barely any noise up there, all the sound muffled in the stairway to the top. As he gets closer to the top, a feeling deep in his gut surfaces, making him pause at how wrong this all feels. Like he shouldn’t be up here, like he shouldn’t be doing this. Tommy grits his teeth and swallows the mild panic rising in his chest. This feeling has followed him ever since his parents died, as if there was somewhere he was supposed to be that was just out of reach. It showed up at the weirdest of times, and now was the worst possible time to show up, in his opinion. Gut feelings be damned, this was happening tonight, no buts about it!
The door that opens to the roof is locked, because of course it is. Whoever this Nathaniel guy is made sure he did his job, and he did it well. Luckily for Tommy, delinquent extraordinaire, lockpicking was a practiced strong soot of his after years of running and escaping from shitty homes. He reaches into his pocket and fishes out his trusty toolset and gets to work. More luck for Tommy Innit as the lock clicks with just three taps of his lockpick! The gods must be smiling on him tonight. Perhaps they are eager to welcome him into the afterlife. Would be the first people to want him, after all.
He pushes the door and leaves it slightly open. Why leave it open when he won’t be going back through it, he doesn’t really know. All Tommy knows right now is that the air is clearer up here than the smoggy streets below. He takes a deep breath through the nose and exhales out the mouth with a sense of purpose. This is what it’s come to, all this planning down to the letter, all this time thinking about ending everything and his time is finally up. Time to put on a show for an empty theatre; no one will be watching his grand exit, no one knows he’s here tonight. Tommy has been alone for the majority of his life, and he will be alone when it comes to an end. If he were someone who liked to read fancy books and poetry, he would say this is a bit poetic. But he isn’t. I’m not much of anything to be honest.
A churning of his stomach makes his legs lock up and he clenches his shirt, hand trembling. The feeling is back with a vengeance, and it will not let up like it usually does. Tommy growls in anger and kicks the side of the bulkhead, leaving a small dent in the side. The door creaks with the force of the impact, almost closing but not quite, almost as if it was taunting him. The idea of turning tail and slinking back to the group home makes him want to stab something. How dare his brain and gut do this to him now, he shouldn’t even be thinking about this! He wipes a hand over his mouth and huffs at his nerves going haywire. I just need to eat the cookies and then I can jump. That’s all I need to do. No more thinking, no more second-guessing myself.
Tommy leans against the right side of the bulkhead and slides down it until he sits fully on the cold concrete of the roof. He opens the bag of cookies and takes one into his hands. It’s still warm to the touch. What kind of magic does that woman infuse in her baked goods to stay warm long after they leave the shop? No use dwelling on that right now, he has a plan to put back on track. He lifts the cookie to his mouth, about to take a well-earned bite when he hears a steady pattern of footsteps running up the stairwell. He tosses the cookie back into the bag and scoots closer to the wall, hoping the shadows and the night hide him well enough. Fuck, what if that Sam Nook guy figured out Nathaniel the janitor wasn’t working tonight? He was thinking on the fly and that quick thinking fucked up his plans!
The door bursts open and a tall, lanky figure rushes through. Tommy can hear rough panting and choked gasps coming from the tall bitch, but from his hiding spot, he can barely make out the man. It is a man, he thinks, with curly hair barely tucked into a burgundy beanie and round glasses reflecting the red light of the Manifold sign. His clothes are rushed and baggy, and even Tommy can tell from the shadows that he has some sort of large case strapped to his back. What is he doing up here? This is Tommy’s grand exit! His plan was foolproof, who does this bastard think he is? The man barely catches his breath before a sob wrenches from his throat, startling Tommy from his anger. It doesn’t sound pleasant, the noises he makes, it sounds terribly manic and despaired. The noises don’t seem to bother the man, however, as he shifts the case on his back and turns to look at the edge of the rooftop. What is he thinking about doing? He’s not seriously thinking-
The man takes a few strides forward and steps onto the ledge, gripping the strap of what Tommy can now see is a guitar case tightly, wringing it with his hands. He adjusts his glasses and takes a deep breath in, not bothering to think things through, with no gut feeling to snap him out of it. Tommy grits his teeth as he hastily comes to a decision. Fuck, why me?! Why right now?! Without thinking of a plan, with no warning at all, Tommy steps out into the red light of the Manifold hotel sign and holds his hands out in a placating gesture.
“Hey, you bitch! Don’t fucking do that!”
The man whirls around, and Tommy’s stomach drops at how fast he moves, looking at him with wide eyes. There are tear streaks highlighting his cheekbones and bags under his eyes. It’s likely he hasn’t slept in a few days. Tommy takes a small step forward and keeps his arms open in a non-threatening manner. He’s had to do this with a couple of foster parents over the years, make himself seem like a smaller version of himself, less of a threat to them and their own kids. Not that it ever helped any. The man before him sways with the breeze flowing over the rooftops, an inch away from plummeting downwards. He blinks a few times, squinting his eyes down at Tommy.
“What the fuck,” he hears the man croak confusedly.
This was not how tonight was supposed to go.