In the Half-Light (He Almost Looks All Right)

by odymcbea

Summary:

Tommy's not sure how he landed this job as a personal assistant to the three founders of Sleepy Bois Inc., but for the first time in his life, he's making decent money and being treated with respect. Not to mention, he's made friends outside of his roommate, Dream. Wilbur, Technoblade, and Phil might technically be his bosses, but Tommy's never felt more comfortable with anyone than he does with them.

If only they didn't worry so much about the bruises that keep appearing on his skin. Tommy was fine.

Right?

Notes:

As always, this is about the characters! Not the CCs! Please don't show this to the CCs.

Warning: This fic will deal with difficult topics regarding abuse and manipulation. There will be mentions of possible underage rape/non-con. However, it NEVER occurs. It is only mentioned as a possibility, but suspicions are refuted.

Chapter 1

Tommy still had no idea how he’d managed to land this job. Sure, he’d lied on his application, but only about his age, and there was hardly anything else on there that made him stand out. And after his interview, during which he'd sworn at Wilbur and nearly made Phil cry with laughter, he’d been sure this job was a lost cause.

But the next day, he’d gotten the call. Now it had been nearly two months he’d been working there as a personal assistant to the three heads of Sleepy Bois Inc. and he wouldn’t trade it for the world. It certainly beat his old job at the diner, where he was harassed by patrons on the daily.

At SBI, he made good money, worked reasonable hours, and did relatively simple tasks. Not to mention, it was all done from the comfort of the penthouse Phil, Techno, and Wilbur shared as both home and offices.

Tommy was in a rush today, hurrying to swipe his key card and enter the elevator. He was already a few minutes late and though he’d never been scolded for it before, he didn’t want today to be the first time he was.

He was uncomfortably aware of the bruise that colored his cheek an ugly purple and he already was dreading the interactions he’d have to endure because of it. It was strange: everyone at this job worried so much more than they had at his last job, and while it was sweet, it made keeping secrets a lot more complicated.

Besides, it wasn’t like they had anything to worry about. Tommy wasn’t in danger. He was only getting what was coming to him.

His roommate had been more stressed lately, Tommy knew that, but still he’d pushed. It was no wonder, really, that Dream had lost his temper. Tommy couldn’t blame his bruised cheek on anyone but himself.

But that didn’t make it easier to explain, so Tommy kept his head down that morning as he scanned into the building. He managed to make it to the elevator without so much as a glance towards him and he got lucky when no one joined him in the elevator. But he knew his luck couldn’t last as he swiped his key and entered SBI’s floor.

“Jesus.” Wilbur stopped and stared at him from across the living room as Tommy entered the penthouse apartment.

Tommy grinned at him and tried not to let it falter as his smile pulled at his bruised cheek. “Not quite.”

Wilbur ignored his quip and moved closer to peer at the bruise coloring Tommy’s pale skin. “The fuck happened to you?”

“Doorknob,” he said as cheerfully as he could. His throat was hoarse at his first words of the day and he coughed to clear it.

“Right,” Wilbur said slowly. He lifted his mug. “Coffee?”

“Pretty sure I’m supposed to be asking you that,” Tommy said, moving further into the apartment. He checked the file box where unfinished paperwork was kept and pulled out a stack of it. “But it looks like you’ve got that covered, so I’ll just get started on the paperwork you refuse to learn how to do.”

“It’s bor-ing,” Wilbur whined, following him into the kitchen where Tommy sat himself at the table. “Besides, if I did it, we wouldn’t have any need for you, would we?”

Tommy snorted. “You’ve got me there. Keep up the shitty work then.”

Wilbur sat across from him, two hands cupping his mug. “So,” he said. “Doorknob, eh?”

Tommy didn’t look up from where he was halfway through a supply form. “Yup. Got up in the middle of the night to get me a glass of water. Tripped over my clothes in the dark.”

“You leave your clothes on the floor?” Wilbur asked incredulously.

“I’m a teenager,” Tommy said, squinting at him. “Of course I do.”

“You’re nineteen,” Wilbur said in amusement.

Right, that was one of the lies he needed to maintain in order to keep this job. Tommy needed to be more careful when it came to mentioning his age.

“Anyway—” Tommy pointed his pen at Wilbur shrewdly. “I’ve seen your room. It’s not exactly pristine.”

Wilbur snorted and shook his head. “You must have made quite the racket, falling last night. Do you live alone?”

“Nah, I got myself a roommate, don’t I?”

“Yeah?” Wilbur said, but he didn’t sound as happy about it as Tommy had. “And how old is your roommate?”

“Huh? Oh, he’s twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three,” Wilbur repeated slowly.

“Uh huh,” Tommy said, giving him a strange look.

“That’s kind of a large age gap. How do you two know each other?”

Tommy shrugged, not sure why he felt so defensive. “I’ve known him for a long time. He’s my friend. He takes care of me.” He tried to smile again, but it felt as fake as it was. He could still feel Dream’s fingers around his wrist, like he’d left more than just bruises under his sleeves. “He’s a little strict sometimes, but it’s for my own good.”

Wilbur’s voice was quiet. “Did he tell you that?”

Tommy ignored that, reaching instead for another document in need of ink. Finally, without looking at Wilbur, he said, “Why are you asking about him?”

Wilbur shrugged and the tension vanished from his frame. “Just making conversation. Can’t I make an effort to get to know our newest employee?”

“You can’t,” Tommy said sarcastically. “Not without being weird about it.”

His tone was sharp, but relief flooded his veins as Wilbur backed off. Sometimes Wilbur got like that— serious— and it made Tommy nervous. It made him wonder if he was guarding his secrets as well as he thought he was.

Another body entered the kitchen, startling Tommy out of his thoughts.

“Techno!” He said cheerfully, grinning as the man grabbed the coffee pot to top off his mug.

“Hello, Tommy.”

Techno was a strange one in Tommy’s book, and that was saying a lot when the people he had to compete against were Wilbur and Phil. But he was solid and steady and above all, honest, and Tommy appreciated that about him.

Right now though, Techno was staring at him.

“Your face,” Techno said flatly.

“Oh,” Tommy said, blinking. He’d half-forgotten about the purpling bruise on his cheek. “Doorknob.” He wasn't sure why the lie came out stiffer the second time, but he was just glad it was the same story he’d given Wilbur. Right now, as tired as he was, he didn’t exactly trust himself to create an airtight alibi.

Techno grunted and moved to the counter to fix himself some food.

“Tommy, you want a sandwich?”

Tommy lit up. “Yes, please!”

“What about me?” Wilbur whined.

Techno pointed his knife at him. “You can make yours yourself. It’s not like you’re doing any work.”

Tommy snickered and Wilbur scowled at him.

The final member of SBI entered the kitchen.

“Good morning, Tommy— Kiddo, what happened?” Had Tommy not been sitting down, the concern that flooded Phil’s voice then would have knocked him off his feet. The man moved closer, his brow crinkled as he peered at Tommy’s bruised cheek.

“Doorknob,” Techno drawled, from where he was making sandwiches at the counter. “Apparently.”

Tommy nodded quickly to corroborate.

“No biggie,” he said, grinning at Phil. “Just your classic Tommy Innit idiocy at work!”

“You’re not stupid,” Phil said, but he smiled back at him all the same. That was something Tommy liked about Phil: he always smiled when Tommy did.

Still, he let his gaze linger on Tommy’s cheek. “Did you ice it already?”

Tommy shook his head. Dream didn’t like it when he was reminded of the ways he’d hurt Tommy, so Tommy had made it a habit to deal with any injuries outside of Dream’s notice. Unfortunately, this led to some going untreated entirely.

“Well, I know we’ve got an ice pack around here somewhere,” Phil said, and he turned around to be met with one in Techno’s hand. “Ah, here we are.” He handed it to Tommy, who pressed it hesitantly against his cheek. “Keep that there for about twenty minutes, then give it a break. You’re going to want to ice it on and off for the next few hours. It’ll help with the swelling.”

“Thanks,” Tommy said gratefully.

“Of course.” Phil’s smile was warm, but there was a note of concern in it that Tommy did his best to ignore. “Anything you need.”

The ice contrasted strangely with the sudden heat of Tommy’s cheek. He swallowed hard and ducked back to his work.

Phil tossed around declarations like that far too often. Tommy couldn’t think too hard about what they meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, not if it meant this strange feeling crawling up his throat.

Chapter 2

Summary:

A Conversation...

It was nearly a week after his bruise incident and the color had faded into a pale yellow on his cheek. Tommy was hoping to put it behind him and leave it forgotten by his bosses, so for the past few days, he’d kept his head down and worked hard. It seemed to be paying off, as no one had brought it up since that first day.

“Tommy.”

Phil was leaning out of his office and as Tommy looked up, Phil beckoned him over.

“Come here— we need to talk to you.”

“We?” Tommy quipped nervously, sliding out of his chair. “Am I in trouble?”

Phil didn’t say anything and dread settled like a stone in Tommy’s stomach. He entered Phil’s office and was met with the sight of Techno, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, and Wilbur, sitting perched on Phil’s desk.

Tommy swallowed. “Hello, men,” he said, forcing a smile even as his voice wobbled. “This is awfully formal.”

“You’re not in trouble,” Phil reassured him. Tommy didn’t relax, even as he sat at Phil’s gesture. “I’m just having trouble verifying some of your documents.” Tommy went cold as he met Phil’s impassive eyes. “Specifically some of the ones that state your age.”

Tommy kept smiling, though his throat was tight. “I don’t understand.”

“You told us you were nineteen,” Techno said, and Tommy tore his gaze away from Phil to look at him. “You wouldn’t lie about something like that.” He arched his brow. “Right?”

Tommy laughed nervously. His heart was pounding in his chest. “Of course not, big man. ‘S a bad habit, lying to your boss.”

“I agree,” Wilbur said, and Tommy nearly shivered at his dangerous tone.

“Tommy, I did a little digging on your paperwork, just to verify that we’d hired you legally—” Phil held up a hand as Tommy opened his mouth. “What I found shows a different age than the one you first reported.”

Tommy shut his mouth. His entire body was tense, half-prepared to bolt should the need arise. But Techno had migrated to the other side of the office and now he was between Tommy and the door.

Fuck.

“Tommy, I’m going to ask you something and I need you to answer honestly.”

“I’m always honest,” Tommy said, and Wilbur scoffed.

Phil ignored that. “Are you sixteen?”

“No.” The lie slid easily off his tongue.

Phil didn’t blink. “Are you sure?”

Tommy’s throat seized and he resisted the urge to run. Instead, he steeled himself and met Phil’s gaze head on. The false smile had fallen from Tommy’s face, replaced with a look he was sure matched the pure desperation in his chest.

“Please don’t fire me.” His voice came out smaller than even he’d expected.

Phil sighed. “I’m not going to fire you."

“Please,” Wilbur scoffed, though his voice was tense. “You’re the best assistant we’ve ever had.”

“I’m the only assistant you’ve ever had,” Tommy quipped nervously.

“Exactly,” Techno said firmly. “The best. We’re not losing you.”

“But you are sixteen?” This came from Phil.

Tommy nodded reluctantly.

“Why aren’t you in school?”

“I graduated early.” He nodded at the documents on the desk. “That one’s not forged. Promise.”

“Your parents are going to kill me,” Phil groaned, putting his face in his hands. “I’ve been overworking you, especially for a minor.”

“No, you haven’t,” Tommy said fiercely. “This is way better than my old job! Besides, that whole parents thing— no need to worry about it.”

Wilbur stared at him. “What do you mean?”

Tommy grinned, but it was awkward under the three heavy gazes. “Got no parents, don’t I? No one to worry about long hours or late nights.” He forced out a laugh. “Hell, I could go missing and no one would notice for days.” At the identical, stricken looks that crossed their faces, he quickly amended: “Except my roommate, of course. He’d notice.”

“We’d notice,” Techno said. He wasn’t smiling.

Tommy laughed awkwardly. “Right. You too.”

“So you’re a minor,” Phil said, and Tommy was beyond relieved to have the conversation back on track, despite the topic. “And you have no parents.”

“Correct.”

“Are you emancipated?”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

“Right,” Phil said. “So you live with a guardian?”

Tommy winced. “Not exactly.”

“He has a roommate,” Wilbur cut in. “Who’s twenty-three.”

An alarmed look crossed Phil’s face at that. Tommy glared at him, unsure of why he’d felt the need to bring his roommate up.

“Explain your situation, please.” Phil’s tone left no room for argument.

Still, Tommy tried. “It’s complicated,” he said weakly.

“Then uncomplicate it.”

Tommy swallowed, glancing at Wilbur and Techno before looking back to Phil with pleading eyes.

“Techno, Wilbur—” Phil jerked his head at the door. “Give us a few minutes, will you?”

They both opened their mouths simultaneously to argue, but Phil cut them off with a look.

“Now,” he said firmly. “Tommy and I are going to talk. Just the two of us.”

Wilbur’s mouth tightened in annoyance, but Techno dragged him out of the room. The door shut firmly behind them.

“So,” Phil said, in the silence of the now-empty room. “You live with a friend?”

Tommy nodded mutely.

“Are you a runaway?”

Tommy tightened his jaw. “I guess.”

Phil nodded. He looked resigned and Tommy’s heart sank.

“From the system? Or from your biological family?”

“The system,” Tommy said shortly. How did Phil know all the right questions to ask?

“How long have you been avoiding CPS?”

“Three years.”

Phil raised his brow, looking marginally impressed. “Three years. That’s not an easy feat. But I guess you’d know that.” He held up Tommy’s file. “Your forgeries are impressive. If I wasn’t so familiar with forged documents, I never would have known to look closer.”

“Um—” Tommy shifted. “Thank you?”

Phil huffed out a little laugh.

Tommy had absolutely no idea what was going on, but he ventured another plea: “Please don’t fire me.”

Phil sighed. “I’m not going to fire you,” he repeated firmly. “But you’ve been working too much.”

Tommy’s heart seized. “Don’t cut my hours! I know I’m young, but I need the money. I can work.”

Phil held up a hand, cutting off his begging. “I won’t cut your hours. But you’re going to be taking more breaks. No arguments,” he said swiftly, as Tommy opened his mouth. “They’ll be paid, so you don’t have to worry about losing hours.”

“Thank you.” Tommy couldn’t describe the cool relief that flooded his body. “Thank you.”

He started to rise, hoping that this was the end of the interrogation.

“One more thing.”

Tommy sank back down into his seat, disappointed.

“You said you have a roommate, so I assume you have a place to stay, correct?”

Tommy nodded. “It’s good too,” he said, not quite sure why he was trying to convince his boss of this. “The best place I’ve lived in a while.”

“And your roommate.” Phil said the word strangely, like he was testing it on his tongue. “He’s good to you?”

Tommy gave him a strange look. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I asked. You’re a teenager, living— presumably illegally— with someone much older than you. I just want to make sure everything is as it should be.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “It’s good,” he repeated. “Best place I’ve lived in a while.

“Okay.” Still, Phil’s gaze lingered on him. Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to dislike it. It had been a long time since anyone looked at him like this, like they cared enough to let their eyes remain on him.

“If you need anything.” Phil sounded odd, like he didn’t quite know how to say this. Tommy just listened. “Anything at all. You can say so. We’ll help.”

Tommy nodded silently.

Phil jerked his head at the door. “Off you go then.”

Tommy scampered away. As he shut the door to Phil’s office behind him, he found he didn’t hate the warm feeling that had settled in his chest. Still, he couldn’t bear to let it stay. He pushed it away and went back to work.

Chapter 3

“You need a better coat, kiddo,” Phil said, eyeing Tommy as he shrugged into it. Tommy flushed, turning away slightly as he pulled his arms through the too-short sleeves. “It’s getting colder out.”

Tommy shrugged. “‘S expensive, innit?”

“You’ve got expendable income now,” Wilbur pointed out. “You can get one.”

Tommy squinted at him. “The fuck’s expandable income?”

“Expendable,” Phil corrected with a fond smile. “It means extra money.”

Tommy scowled at Wilbur. “Why didn’t you just say extra then?”

Wilbur ignored that. “So, are you gonna buy yourself one?”

“One what?”

“A coat.”

Tommy shrugged. “Gotta ask my roommate. He handles all of our… expendable income.” The phrase was strange in his mouth, but he smiled in satisfaction, confident that he had used it correctly. Unfortunately, he was so caught up in his newly-acquired vocabulary word, he missed the alarmed look his employers shared.

“You can’t just buy yourself a coat?” Wilbur asked incredulously. “It’s your money.”

Tommy flushed. “What are you, my financial advisor?”

“I’m just saying—”

“Wil.” Phil didn’t look up from where he was typing away at his laptop. “Lay off.”

Wilbur scowled, but obeyed.

Still, Tommy couldn’t shake the discomfort he’d felt at their observations. It was fine that Dream controlled his paycheck. He was the one who handled the bills and the food. It wouldn’t be fair for Tommy to take from that.

He slipped out of the penthouse, suddenly uncomfortably aware of the way his sleeves rode up on his wrists.

***

The next day, Tommy was assaulted with a thick piece of fabric the moment he exited the elevator. He spluttered, barely managing to catch it before it hit the floor.

“Wilbur!” He snapped, though it was colored by amusement. “What the fuck?”

“It’s a gift!” Wilbur said cheerfully. “You’re welcome!”

The amusement dropped from Tommy’s expression. He held up the coat, finally taking it in for what it was.

“It’s a hand-me-down,” Phil said quickly, from where he was watching on the couch. “In case you’re worried about us spending money on you— which you shouldn’t be. It’s Wil’s old one.”

Tommy recovered quickly and made a face at Wilbur. “Ew,” he said, holding the coat away from him. “It’s probably got cooties then.”

Wilbur spluttered. “Cooties? What are you, six?”

“Nope,” Techno said, entering the room with a cup of coffee. “Just sixteen.”

Tommy flipped him off.

Wilbur winced. “Still getting used to that.”

“It doesn’t make me any different,” Tommy said fiercely.

“It makes you even more little-brother-shaped,” Wilbur said giddily, and reached to ruffle Tommy’s hair.

Tommy ducked and cursed at him, slapping his hand away from his head. He left the coat on the hook next to his old one. He wouldn’t be taking it home.

***

“He left it.” Techno’s voice was flat as he held up the gifted coat.

“He probably just forgot,” Phil said, smiling tightly at his son.

“Or he was afraid of what his roommate would do,” Wilbur said darkly.

“Wilbur, I know you’re worried, but let’s not jump to conclusions.” Even so, Phil couldn’t help the anxiety that sat like a stone in his stomach. “Tommy’s forgetful. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“He’s not forgetful,” Wilbur spat. “He’s the smartest kid I’ve ever met.”

“Growing attached, are we?” Techno said, raising his brow.

Wilbur whirled on him. “Oh, don’t act like you’re not worried about the kid too. He’s tried to hide bruises on two separate days now.”

“Three.”

“Huh?” Wilbur paused, staring at Techno through dark eyes.

“Three,” Techno repeated flatly. “You didn’t see the bruises on his wrist the other day. I wasn’t meant to either, but I caught him coming out of the bathroom with his sleeves still rolled up.”

“And you didn’t think to tell us this, mate?” Phil said.

Techno shrugged. “I’ve been keeping count myself. Didn’t want to worry you if it was nothing.”

“Too late,” Wilbur snapped. “We’re already worried.”

“It could really be nothing,” Phil argued. It was fruitless and he knew it. Once his sons set their minds to something, they couldn’t be swayed. Not to mention his own worry that curled like a fire in his chest. “Tommy could be telling the truth about being clumsy.”

“Or he’s not,” Wilbur said. “And he could be in danger. I don’t like the things he’s said about his roommate, about him knowing what’s best for Tommy.”

Phil winced at that. “It doesn’t sound great, I’ll give you that.”

“Not to mention, he’s a sixteen year old living— apparently illegally— with a twenty-three year old.”

Techno tilted his head. “How do we know it’s illegal?”

“Tommy’s not emancipated,” Wilbur said, ignoring the look Phil shot him. “And he doesn’t have a legal guardian. There is no way his situation adds up legally.”

“That was a private conversation between Tommy and I,” Phil said, fixing Wilbur with a stern look.

“So he’s a runaway,” Techno said flatly. “Flying under the radar.” He glanced at Phil, his eyes crinkled. “How are we even paying him?”

Phil waved his hand. “A lot of forged documents. The only reason I caught him is because I’m familiar with the forging technique he used. He’s had no other issues with that so far, so his bank account is all set up.”

“I’m still more concerned with the fact that he keeps showing up injured,” Wilbur said sharply. “And why does his roommate control his money?”

“Well, to be fair, Tommy is sixteen,” Techno pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean he’s not entitled to the money he earns.”

“Of course not,” Techno said, raising his hands in defense. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Tommy makes plenty of money now, at least enough to support himself comfortably. So why shouldn’t he be able to spend some of it? Especially on something like a coat.” Wilbur ran a hand through his hair, letting out a frustrated breath.

“I don’t know, mate,” Phil said. He understood Wilbur’s frustration, but unfortunately, as of right now, there was nothing he could do. Tommy didn’t seem willing to talk and Phil wasn’t going to push him. “All we can do is make sure he knows we’re here for him.”

Chapter 4

Summary:

This chapter is where the real warnings begin. Abuse, manipulation, victim blaming (by Tommy to himself), etc. Nothing is graphic, but there are definitely elements of it. Please be careful!

“Leave me alone, Wilbur,” Tommy said, hunching further over the table. “I’m doing paperwork.”

“Come on,” Wilbur whined. “I’m your boss— I’m telling you it’s okay to stop.”

“I want to get this done,” Tommy said, batting Wilbur’s hands away. He really wasn’t in the mood for this. He was still reeling from the fight he’d had with Dream last night, though perhaps fight was too generous a word for it. It had been remarkably one-sided, him cowering and apologizing as Dream screamed at him. He’d gotten violent at one point, slamming Tommy into the wall with a hand against his chest, pressing him there until Tommy’s breath came out wheezy and stuttered and tears were streaming down his face. Tommy hadn’t slept much after that, even after Dream had stormed out.

Tommy tugged at the collar of his shirt, uncomfortably aware of the way it was pressing into his throat as he leaned over the table.

He was so caught up in the document in front of him he didn’t realize Wilbur had gone silent.

Until—

“Is that a handprint?” Wilbur snarled.

Techno’s head shot up and Phil let out a startled, “What?”

Wilbur reached for Tommy’s collar and Tommy flinched instinctively, nearly falling out of his chair to avoid Wilbur’s invasive hands.

“Tommy, let me see,” Wilbur said, and his voice was so hard, Tommy almost folded.

But he steeled his resolve and leaned away, a hand pressed to his shirt to keep Wilbur’s prying hands off of it. “No.”

“Now, Tommy.”

“This is sexual harrassment, I think,” he tried to quip. He scrambled from his chair and hurried to put space between him and Wilbur as the man moved closer. “Workplace sexual harrassment. Of a minor, no less. Phil, are you seeing this?”

“Tommy,” Wilbur snapped, and Tommy couldn’t help it: he flinched.

“Tommy?” Phil was on his feet, Techno too, and his voice was pitched with uncertainty. “What did Wilbur see?”

“Nothing,” Tommy said quickly. “He’s imagining things.”

“I saw a bruise,” Wilbur said furiously. “In the shape of a fucking handprint.”

“No, you didn’t!”

“Then why won’t you show us?”

Tommy flushed. “I think it’s reasonable to not want to strip in front of my bosses!”

“You don’t need to strip,” Wilbur said, his face scrunching up in disdain. “Just pull your collar down a bit.”

“No,” Tommy snapped. He was still backing up slowly, his hand pressed over his sternum to keep his shirt firmly in place. Then his back hit something solid and he realized very suddenly that he’d backed himself up against a wall.

In an instant, he was frozen, paralyzed by the series of facts that struck him like a brick to the chest.

Tommy was small and trapped. Wilbur was strong. He could hurt him if he wanted to and Tommy wouldn’t be able to stop him.

There was a hand on the collar of his shirt, yanking it aside. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, pressing up against the wall like there was any sort of distance he could get that would protect him.

“Wilbur, stop!” Phil’s voice was a reset button for the world.

Tommy didn’t realize he was crying until Wilbur lurched suddenly away from him.

Tommy’s whole body went limp, shuddering against the wall as Wilbur stepped back, his hands raised.

“Tommy, I’m— I’m sorry.” Tommy didn’t think he’d ever heard Wilbur sound this horrified. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy didn’t look at him. He couldn’t. His breath was still stuttering in his throat, his hand pressed tight to his chest where it rose and fell wildly. He couldn’t stop thinking about how Wilbur had done that. Wilbur had made him afraid.

“Tommy, come sit.”

He felt Phil’s hand on his shoulder and let him guide him to sit on the couch. His knees gave out and he collapsed onto the couch, still curled around his chest like he could protect it.

“You’re okay,” Phil murmured, his hand still resting on Tommy’s shoulder. His thumb rubbed soothing circles over his shirt and Tommy forced himself to focus on the sensation.

“I’m sorry,” Wilbur repeated, and to his credit, he really did seem upset at himself. He sounded halfway to tears and he held his hands up awkwardly, like he was afraid of frightening Tommy if he moved them too quickly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s fine,” Tommy said, and he tried to grin. It felt fake. “Big men don’t get scared.” There were still tears on his cheeks and he reached to wipe them off.

Phil smiled tightly. “I’m glad to hear that. Wil was decidedly out of line there and you can be certain it won’t happen again.”

Tommy nodded dully.

Then Phil spoke again, and Tommy went rigid once more.

“Your collarbone,” Phil said quietly. “We saw the bruise—” Tommy glared at Wilbur, who shrunk slightly under it— “What happened?”

Tommy gritted his teeth. “I got mugged,” he said, and hoped that his obvious reluctance to share could be chalked up to embarrassment.

“Mugged,” Phil repeated flatly.

“I live in a shit district,” Tommy said, defensive. “What did you expect?”

“What, are you just walking around at night?” Techno asked incredulously.

Tommy flushed. “I can’t drive, dickhead.”

“How do you get home?” Phil asked curiously. Wilbur was muttering behind him— something about irresponsibility— and Tommy ignored him in favor of answering Phil.

“The Underground. Then I walk a few blocks to my building.”

“Your roommate can’t pick you up?”

“He works later than me,” Tommy said shortly. “Besides, he ain’t got a car either.”

Techno considered him. Tommy had to resist the urge to shrink under his gaze. “If you were mugged, then why isn’t your face messed up? Or your hands?”

Tommy gritted his teeth. “They were very specific about where they wanted to hurt me.”

“Tommy,” Phil said, and Tommy watched warily as he ran a tired hand over his face. “You have to understand how this looks to us. Everyday, you come to work with new bruises that can’t be explained. You’re a minor living with an adult you’re not related to and he apparently has you helping out with the bills?”

“We each pay half,” Tommy said stiffly. “It’s fair.”

“It’s not,” Techno said firmly. “You’re sixteen. You shouldn’t have to worry about paying bills and putting food on the table.”

“Well, I do,” Tommy snapped. “It’s not Dream’s fault we’re dirt fucking poor!” Immediately, he regretted his words.

“Dream,” Wilbur said, after a tense moment of silence. “Is that his name?”

“None of your business,” Tommy muttered.

Phil’s voice was more serious than Tommy had ever heard it. “Tommy, did Dream hurt you?”

“No.” It was almost the truth, Tommy reasoned. He had done this to himself— he’d antagonized Dream, annoyed him, pushed him over the edge. Tommy was as much responsible for the bruises painting his skin now as Dream was. Maybe even more so.

Techno was staring at him, and Tommy wanted to shrink away from his gaze. Techno had always been the one that scared him the most, and though Tommy had grown more comfortable with him over the last few months— had even found safety in his quiet, steady presence— he knew that lying to Techno was not a smart move.

So instead, he said, abruptly, “Can I go now?”

Neither Wilbur or Techno seemed inclined to let him go, but Phil sighed and pulled back. “Yes.”

Wilbur stood and strode across the room to pluck his keys from the bowl by the door. “I’m driving you home.”

“You don’t have to,” Tommy argued automatically. “I can take the train—”

“I know I don’t have to,” Wilbur said. “That’s not why I’m doing it. We’ve been—” He grimaced. “Irresponsible. We should have made sure you had a safe way home a long time ago.”

“It’s nearly dark, mate, and you just told us about how you got mugged,” Phil said, and fuck, how was Tommy supposed to argue with him when he was looking at him like that? “Just let us do this, if only to make us feel better.”

Tommy swallowed. “Fine,” he said, and stood stiffly.

The drive was only about twenty minutes, but that was nineteen minutes too long in Tommy’s opinion.

Wilbur was quiet throughout, though he kept sending looks Tommy’s way. Tommy did his best to ignore them.

When they pulled up to Tommy’s building, Tommy couldn’t help the flush that crawled up his neck. He knew his building matched the rest of his district in shittiness, but for Wilbur to see it like this was just embarrassing. The man was rich. He had no idea how real people lived and the incredulous way he stared at the building made that clear.

“Can I come in?”

Tommy gave him a strange look. “What, to my apartment?”

Wilbur nodded.

“Why?”

Wilbur shrugged. “Just want to make sure you get up the stairs okay. You must be in some pain after… getting mugged.”

“Fine,” Tommy snapped. “But if your car gets broken into while we’re in there, that’s on you.”

Wilbur broke into a relieved grin.

They climbed the stairs up to the third story. Wilbur was eyeing the carpet with a thinly-veiled expression of disgust and he went pointedly around the years-old vomit stain between the second and third floors.

Tommy unlocked his door and led them inside.

“Jesus,” Wilbur said, staring around the apartment with a critical look.

Tommy scowled, his cheeks burning. “I’m poor,” he said flatly. “You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I just— I mean, is this it?”

“There’s a bathroom obviously,” Tommy said, gesturing to the doors off of the little kitchenette. “And a bedroom.”

“Just one?”

“Yeah.”

Wilbur strode forward and pulled open the door to the bedroom. Tommy gritted his teeth and followed.

Wilbur stopped in the doorway and stared at the small room. It took everything in Tommy not to flush. The room was messy, clothes lying in a small pile in the corner and blankets tossed haphazardly on the mattress on the floor.

“Is this where you sleep?”

Tommy could hear the disbelief in Wilbur’s voice.

“Yeah,” he said, glancing around the small, unkempt room as if it would somehow appear more presentable than the way he knew he’d left it.

“And your roommate?”

Tommy shrugged. “We share.” Tommy missed the way Wilbur’s eyes hardened at that.

“The bed?”

“Yep. It’s small, but it’s better than the floor.”

Wilbur’s voice was careful. “How long have you been living with Dream?”

Tommy shrugged. “Since I got out of the system. A little over two years, maybe?”

“How did you two meet?”

Tommy gave him a strange look, but answered. “We were in a foster home together when I was little. When he found me on the streets, he offered me a place.”

Wilbur’s expression was unreadable. “Right. When you were fourteen.”

Tommy’s expression soured. “I’m not a child,” he said sullenly. “I can take care of myself. I did long before you or Dream were around.”

“Is Dream really taking care of you?”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Wilbur’s voice was sharp. “You tell me.”

“Who the fuck are you to question my relationship with Dream?” Tommy hissed. “I’ve known you for two months! Dream saved me!”

“Right,” Wilbur said coldly. “You keep saying that. What exactly did Dream save you from?”

“He kept me out of the system for one. He could have reported me to CPS when he found me, but he didn’t.”

“Yeah,” Wilbur sneered. “A real saint.”

Tommy practically snarled at that. “You have no idea,” he said darkly, jamming a finger into Wilbur’s chest. “You have no idea what it’s like in the system. Dream was protecting me.”

“Or,” Wilbur said, and Tommy wanted to punch that look right off of his face. “He saw a vulnerable kid no one would miss and decided to take advantage.”

Tommy recoiled at that. “Fuck you.”

Something like regret flickered across Wilbur’s face and he backtracked immediately. “Tommy, that’s not what I meant—”

“I know what you meant.”

“Tommy?”

Tommy went still. He hadn’t heard the door open. Fuck, he hadn’t heard the door open.

Dream was standing in the living room, just inside the front door. Tommy turned to face him, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Who’s this?” Dream’s voice was unreadable. He didn’t look at Wilbur, instead staring Tommy down with his cold eyes.

“No one,” Tommy said, then corrected quickly as Dream gave him an unimpressed look. “One of my bosses. Wilbur,” he added reluctantly.

For a tense moment, Dream just regarded the two of them with his cool eyes. Then he blinked and a warm smile spread across his lips. “Wilbur,” he said, striding forward with his hand outstretched. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Wilbur met his handshake with an expression Tommy couldn’t read. “You must be Dream. I’m sorry I can’t say the same, but Tommy’s kept his mysterious roommate under wraps.”

Dream turned to Tommy then and fixed him with a smile that nearly sent a shiver down his spine. “Keeping me a secret, eh, Toms?”

Tommy swallowed. “No,” he said, fear jumping in his throat.

“I’m teasing, Tommy.” Dream threw an arm around his shoulder and shook him lightly. Tommy had to suppress a flinch. “I know it’s been a hard few weeks for you, Toms, so I thought we could do something special tonight.” Dream raised his brow. “Spaghetti?”

Tommy grinned, relief flooding his veins despite the tight grip around his shoulders. “Yes!” he cheered. “I love your spaghetti.”

He could still feel Wilbur’s eyes on him, but he elected to ignore him.

“Fantastic.” Dream’s smile was all teeth. He raised his brow at Wilbur. “It was a pleasure to meet the man Tommy’s been working for.”

“Right.” Wilbur smiled tightly at him. His gaze drifted over to Tommy, who avoided his eyes. “Well, I’d best be going.”

Dream let go of Tommy to walk Wilbur to the door. Tommy didn’t realize the tension he’d been holding in his shoulders until Dream let his arm fall and Tommy’s breath came flooding back.

The front door shut.

“Tommy.” Dream hadn’t turned around. “What have I said about bringing strangers to the apartment?”

“Wilbur’s not a stranger. He’s my friend.”

Dream turned around, pinching his brow. Exasperation was clear in his tense frame. “Jesus, Tommy, how stupid are you? He’s not your friend. He’s your boss. He doesn’t care about you, not the way I do.”

Tommy fell silent, studying the carpet. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

Dream let out a sigh. “I know.” His voice softened, turning sweet like honey in a way Tommy almost couldn’t bear. It always felt too good to be true. “I was just worried, love. You scared me, having someone else in the apartment.”

“I’m sorry,” Tommy repeated.

“I know you are.” Dream’s voice was perfectly even. “But I can’t have this happening again. No dinner tonight, okay?”

Tommy’s gaze shot up. “But what about spaghetti?” He knew he sounded like a little kid, but he couldn’t help it. Disappointment lived like an extra organ inside of him.

“Tommy,” Dream warned. “You need to learn your lesson. How can you do that if I reward you?”

Tommy swallowed and dropped his gaze. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“Go to bed,” Dream instructed softly. “You can eat in the morning.” That was a lie and they both knew it.

“But—”

“Now, Tommy.”

Tommy swallowed and obeyed, turning to head towards the bedroom. He could hear Dream behind him, pulling open cabinets to put together dinner for himself. His stomach ached familiarly, but he knew he couldn’t argue with Dream tonight. After all, he’d broken the rules. He deserved this.

Tommy fell asleep cold and hungry. He woke a few hours later as the mattress dipped behind him and a body shuffled too close to his own. But in the pull of darkness, he quickly lost himself to sleep again.

Chapter 5

The atmosphere of the penthouse was tense as Tommy stepped out of the elevator the next morning.

“How are you feeling, mate?” Phil asked. His tone was too careful. Tommy hated it.

“Fine,” Tommy muttered, drifting to the table where yesterday’s stack of paperwork still sat.

The others were silent and he could feel their eyes on him.

“Can we please just forget about yesterday?” He asked wearily. “I’m sorry for yelling, Wilbur’s sorry for being a dick— Can’t that just be it?”

Wilbur opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, but Phil cut him off.

“Of course, Tommy. If that’s what you want.”

The day passed by in a haze of paperwork and menial tasks. It was strange not to engage in meaningless bickering with Wilbur, or to quip at Techno as the older man tried to suppress a smile. It was like the beginning again, only worse because now, Tommy knew he was the reason none of them could relax.

Wilbur moved too close to him once, his hand raised in the corner of Tommy’s vision, and Tommy flinched. Wilbur froze, looking horrified, before he muttered an apology and hurried away.

Phil was nervous around him too, like he was afraid Tommy was going to break. Maybe he was— Tommy wasn’t sure himself.

Techno, thank God, treated him like normal. He didn’t touch him, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for Techno. Tommy still received the man’s dry comments, even without Tommy’s usual prodding.

Much to Tommy’s relief, he was largely left alone. He stood up to stretch, noting absently that he’d been parked in the same spot all morning. He should grab a glass of water, he thought, noting the dry taste in his mouth.

His vision wavered strangely as he stood and he blinked hard to clear away the white spots dotting his vision.

Phil was saying something from over the kitchen counter, but the words were muffled, as if Tommy was underwater. He took a careful step forward, swallowing hard as the ground wavered beneath him.

“You all right, mate?” Phil’s voice was amused, but there was a touch of concern to it that Tommy would have hated had he been aware enough to clock it.

“‘M fine,” he said, before his world tipped and the floor came up to greet him.

“Tommy!”

For a blissful few seconds, Tommy felt nothing. His vision was spotty and dark, and he couldn’t feel his hands or his feet beyond a faint tingling.

But then the floor began to harden beneath him and pain spread through his body like a slow-moving river.

“—fuck— he just dropped—”

“Tommy.” That was Techno, but his voice was strange. It was as monotone as ever, but there was an undercurrent of urgency to it that Tommy hardly recognized from him. Something warm pressed to his forehead, before sliding down to cup his cheek. He leaned into the touch. “Tommy, open your eyes.”

Well, that was a direct order. Tommy couldn’t disobey one of those. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it as the dizziness returned in full force.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head lolling as he tried to lift it. His tongue was thick and heavy in his mouth. Techno’s hand slid beneath his head and helped him lift it slightly until something soft was placed under it.

“—should take him to the hospital.”

He lurched at that. “No,” he forced out, closing his eyes as a wave of nausea washed over him. “No hospital.”

Wilbur’s voice was tense and Tommy realized suddenly that his head was pillowed on Wilbur’s lap. “Then you’re going to explain to us right now why you just passed out.”

Tommy gritted his teeth against the nausea. “I was hungry,” he mumbled, turning his head to press his cheek into Wilbur’s thigh. “‘S not a big deal.”

Thanks to his closed eyes, he missed it as the three of them exchanged terse looks over his head.

“It may not be a big deal to you,” Phil said, and Tommy could hear how he struggled to keep his voice even. “But it is to us. No sixteen year old should be passing out from hunger.”

“When was the last time you ate?” Techno asked.

Tommy said nothing. He could feel their eyes on him .

Phil sighed. “Can you stand?”

Tommy nodded and immediately regretted it as bile rose in his throat. He forced it back, squeezing his eyes shut as Wilbur helped him sit up.

“You all right?” Wilbur’s voice was soft in his ear as he let Tommy lean back against him.

“‘M sorry,” he said, and he hated how his voice broke.

“It’s okay.” Techno’s voice was low, closer to Tommy than it was before. “You gonna throw up on me?”

He was half-joking, Tommy knew, but he made a noise of dissent anyway and answered. “There’s nothing to throw up.”

Phil made a dissatisfied noise at that.

Without warning, large hands slid under Tommy’s body and hoisted him into the air. Tommy couldn’t help how he wrapped his arms around Techno’s neck and buried his face in his shoulder, dizzy at the sudden movement.

“Jesus, kid, you weigh nothing.”

Tommy flushed. “Fuck you too.”

Then he registered that they were moving.

“Wait.” He squirmed in Techno’s arms, but the older man held him tight. Still, Techno stopped, pausing halfway to the living room with Tommy in his arms.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Just to the couch, mate,” Phil said.

“No hospital?” He knew his voice was pitched with uncertainty and he didn’t miss the look the three of them exchanged over him, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“No hospital,” Phil said reluctantly. “On the condition that you get some food in you now, and—” He fixed Tommy with a hard look. “You tell us why you’re so dead set on avoiding medical care.”

“Fine.”

With that, Techno carried him the rest of the way into the living room and set him— more gently than Tommy had expected— onto the couch.

Wilbur sat next to him immediately and Phil perched on the coffee table in front of him. Techno disappeared into the kitchen, before returning a moment later with a plate of apple slices and peanut butter.

Tommy scowled at him automatically. “I’m not five,” he snapped, but he took the plate anyway.

Techno didn’t rise to the bait. “If you eat too much too fast, you’ll throw up. You need to start small.”

Tommy had half a mind to sulk at that, but the smell of fresh food distracted him. So he dug in, all too aware of the eyes on him as he had his first taste of food in over a day. Before he knew it, the plate was empty.

“Can I have more?” He asked, swallowing his last bite and washing it down with a gulp of water.

“Give it a few minutes,” Techno said. “We’ll see how your stomach feels in a bit.”

“It feels hungry,” Tommy said sullenly, but he just crossed his arms and sagged back into the couch as Techno removed the plate from his lap.

“So—” Phil leaned forward, raising his eyebrows. “Feeling any better?”

“Less dizzy,” Tommy admitted reluctantly.

“Good. Then you won’t mind explaining to us what the hell just happened?” Phil’s tone was deceptively light, but Tommy knew full well that this wasn’t something he was getting out of.

“I just… forgot to eat,” he muttered, staring at his restless hands.

“For how long?” Phil asked evenly.

Tommy shrugged. “Dunno. Since yesterday morning at least.”

Wilbur had a strange look on his face, like he was connecting the dots then and there. “Last night, Dream said you two were going to have spaghetti for dinner.” His voice was unreadable. “Something special because you’d been working so hard.”

Tommy shrugged weakly. “I was tired. I fell asleep before we even started cooking. We’re gonna do it this weekend instead.”

“But it’s nearly dinnertime today,” Wilbur said, and Tommy almost flinched at his sharp tone. “Why the hell haven’t you been eating?”

“I just forgot,” Tommy snapped defensively. “I’ve been… busy.”

It was a weak argument and he knew it, but fortunately, Phil moved on before he had to reinforce it.

“And the hospital issue?” Phil asked, his brow raised sharply.

Tommy looked away as he said, “Dream’ll kill me if I have to go the hospital.”

“Why?” Wilbur demanded. He’d stiffened the mention of Tommy’s roommate.

Tommy glared at him. “Why do you think, dipshit? Medical bills ain’t cheap.”

“You’re on our health insurance,” Phil pointed out.

“It won’t cover everything,” Tommy said. “That’s still at least a few hundred dollars out of our pockets.” He flashed a burning look at all of them. “Not everyone can just toss that kind of money around.”

“Tommy,” Phil said, and his voice was serious enough that Tommy half-wanted to shrink away from him. But he held his ground and met Phil’s gaze head on. “If you ever find yourself in a position where you need to choose between medical care and money, I want you to call me.”

“Why?” Tommy couldn’t help the way his body tensed with suspicion.

“Because,” Phil said. “I care about you. And I don’t ever want you to have to sacrifice your health if it can be avoided.”

“What, are you just gonna pay my medical bills?” Tommy sneered.

“Yes,” Phil said simply.

Tommy’s mouth snapped shut. For a moment, it was silent, then he let out a harsh breath of laughter. “Why?”

Phil didn’t say anything.

Tommy stared at him, before shifting his gaze between the other two. “What is this for you? What do you want?”

“We don’t want anything from you, Tommy,” Phil said. “We care about you. That’s all.”

Tommy swallowed, his gaze still darting among them.“I don’t understand.”

“I know,” Phil said softly, and he looked sad. “That’s okay. You will.”

“I— I already owe you too much.”

“You don’t owe us anything,” Phil said firmly. “Now why don’t you let us take you to the hospital, just to get you checked out?”

“It’s fine,” Tommy insisted. “Besides, what can they do? Didn’t need a hospital when I broke my arm, did I?”

Alarm flashed across Wilbur and Phil’s face. Techno’s was unreadable.

“You broke your arm?” Wilbur demanded. “When?”

“Like, last year,” Tommy said, shifting uncomfortably under their eyes. “It’s fine now.”

Techno held out his hand. “Can I see it?”

“No,” he snapped, and tucked his left arm against his side.

“Does it still hurt?”

Tommy gritted his teeth. “Sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

“It could be,” Techno said seriously, and Tommy had to look away from his intense gaze. “If it didn’t heal right.”

“I said, it’s fine.”

“How did you break it?” Wilbur asked softly.

“Stairs.”

Wilbur raised his brow. “You seem to have made quite the enemy out of stairs.”

“What can I say?” Tommy quipped stiffly. “The stairs at my apartment aren’t up to code.”

Wilbur scoffed. “Yeah, I noticed.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Tommy snarled. “Just ‘cause you’re fucking loaded doesn’t give you the right to judge me.”

Wilbur opened his mouth to argue, but Phil cut him off:

“Tommy, you’re done for the day.”

Tommy opened his mouth to argue, but Phil cut him off swiftly. “Don’t argue with me. You’re staying on that couch until I’m sure you won’t pass out again. You’ll eat dinner with us, then one of us can drive you home.”

Wilbur shot Phil an alarmed look. “Phil—”

Phil ignored him. “Tommy, whatever you decide you want to do after dinner is fine with us. We’d love to have you longer, but it’s up to you.”

“I want to go home after,” he said quietly, and though Phil looked disappointed, he nodded.

“Can—” Tommy hesitated, glancing at Wilbur before looking away quickly. “Can Techno drive me please?”

Tommy didn’t need to look at Wilbur to know the hurt look that had settled on his face.

Phil nodded, trying his best to smile at Tommy. “Of course.”

Dinner was awkward. Phil kept trying to start a conversation, but none of the rest of the table’s inhabitants were much inclined to talk. Wilbur was practically sulking on the other side of the table, staring unhappily at his plate and occasionally sending hurt glances towards Tommy. Tommy ignored him. Techno ate in silence as well, though that was typical for him.

Afterwards, Techno drove him home. They sat in silence, Tommy fiddling with the radio the whole way. Techno didn’t seem to mind.

As they pulled up, Techno turned to look at him.

“Tommy…” Techno trailed off, and Tommy looked at him. It was odd to hear Techno unsure. “You know if you need something—” He fixed Tommy with a hard look. “Anything— you can call us.”

Tommy tried to smile, but his breath was coming out shaky, like he was about to start crying. “I know, big man. I’m all good.”

Techno just looked at him then, and Tommy tried hard not to squirm under his gaze. Then Techno jerked his head at the door and Tommy scrambled to get out.

“See you tomorrow, kid,” Techno called as he watched Tommy key into his apartment building.

Tommy just nodded. He didn’t look back.

Chapter 6

Summary:

Warnings for this chapter: Abuse, manipulation, mild non-consensual drug use (sleeping pills), and semi-graphic descriptions of a burn injury. I don't think it's too bad-- I tend to be very sensitive of such things-- but I thought I should mention it in the warnings. Be careful!

“Come sit while I make dinner,” Dream said, motioning to the stool on the other side of the counter. “Keep me company.”

“All right.” Tommy slid onto the stool, planting his elbows on the counter. He hoped this meant he’d be able to eat dinner too.

Dream was stirring a saucepan on the stove.

“I don’t like that Wilbur guy,” Dream said. He didn’t turn around to look at Tommy, but Tommy was used to that. “I don’t like how he looks at you.”

“How does he look at me?” Tommy asked nervously. He wasn’t sure he wanted Dream’s opinion on Wilbur, but had Dream ever led him wrong before?

Yes, a voice screamed in the back of his head. Every time.

He ignored it.

“Like he owns you,” Dream spat and he finally turned to look at Tommy. Tommy couldn't read the look on his face and that frightened him. “But he doesn’t.” There was a dangerous glint in his eye and Tommy was suddenly glad there was a counter between them. “I do.”

Tommy smiled nervously, suddenly afraid to break eye contact with Dream.

“Here,” Dream said, before Tommy could say anything. He held up the spoon. “Come taste this.”

Tommy obeyed, sliding off of stool and hurrying to Dream’s side.

“It’s good,” he said, licking the residual sauce from his lips.

“Good.” Dream smiled at him and moved the pan off of the burner.

“I think you should quit.” Dream said it so casually, such a quick change in topic, Tommy almost agreed automatically. Then it registered.

“What?”

“I think you should quit,” Dream repeated, a little harder this time.

“I don’t want to quit,” Tommy said, and he hated how his voice wobbled. “It’s a good job. I make good money.”

“Tommy,” Dream snapped, and Tommy flinched. Dream was losing patience. “I’m telling you to quit. It’s for your own good.”

Still, Tommy held his ground. “I’m not quitting,” he said firmly. “I love it there.”

For a moment, there was silence, save for the hum of the electric burner.

“Fine,” Dream said finally, and Tommy went rigid at the blank look that overtook his face. An angry Dream was something to be feared, but this Dream— calm Dream— haunted Tommy’s nightmares. “If you won’t quit, then let’s see how well you work when you can’t even write your name.”

Before Tommy could so much as blink, Dream seized his wrist and pressed Tommy’s palm flat against the still-red burner.

Tommy couldn’t even hear himself screaming. Blood rushed through his head, drowning out everything but pain as Dream pressed his hand mercilessly into the red-hot burner.

His knees buckled and only then did Dream let him go. He crumpled, landing on his knees beside the stove.

He wasn’t screaming anymore, but he was gasping, horrible little whines escaping between pants.

Dream dropped to a crouch in front of him and caught Tommy’s chin between his fingers. His eyes were cold. “I think we’ve learned our lesson today, haven’t we?”

Tommy wheezed, but he still found it in himself to nod. He’d learned the hard way that not answering would only prompt a repeat of the so-called lesson.

Dream smiled. “Good.” He dropped Tommy’s chin. “Go to the bedroom. Call your boss and tell him you’re done.”

Tommy nodded again and Dream stood, leaving him on his knees in the kitchen.

Tommy was shaking, too hot and too cold all at once. He managed to stagger to his feet and moved numbly out of the kitchen, clutching his hand close to his chest. He was afraid to look at it, afraid to close it, afraid to even touch it.

Safe in the enclosure of the bedroom, he dropped to his knees next to the mattress and slowly pulled his hand away from his chest.

He stared mutely at it. It didn’t even look like his hand anymore. The skin of his palm was a sickening mixture of red, white, and pink, the layers of skin burned away to reveal raw flesh beneath. Tommy nearly threw up at the sight of it.

Dream’s words echoed in his mind: Call your boss and tell him you’re done.

Tommy didn’t think he could even speak, let alone to Phil. Besides, he had no intention of quitting at SBI, though he had no idea how he was going to pull that off. But right now, in this small, quiet way, he was determined to rebel.

So he stalled. It took a long time to type with only the use of his right hand, but he managed to shoot Phil a text:

Tommy: hey big man, i don’t think i’ll be able to come in tomorrow. not feeling great, think i caught some kinda bug

He waited anxiously for a few minutes before a response popped up.

Phil: Aw, I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll miss you, but I’m glad you're taking care of yourself!

Tommy wanted to cry.

Tommy: thanks. btw you text like a grown up

Phil: I am a grown up, Tommy :D

Tommy smiled a little at that, but it was undercut by another wave of pain that shot through his hand.

He took another hesitant look at it. Somehow, it seemed almost worse than before. The skin was almost bubbling at the deepest parts of the burn and Tommy was nearly sick. He had no idea how to treat this kind of injury. He wasn’t even brave enough to try to move it.

On his good hand, he crawled onto the mattress and collapsed, trembling. He fell asleep like that, slumped on his side with his hand laying, palm up, beside him.

When he woke next, it was to cool water being pressed to his lips and Dream’s gentle voice as he cupped the back of Tommy’s neck.

The next few days passed in a haze of pain and sleep. His hand was wrapped in clean bandages now and Dream kept him swallowing pills that made the haze even thicker. He only knew days had passed from the sunlight shining intermittently through the bedroom window.

When he woke up—truly woke up— for the first time in days, it was to darkness. His phone claimed it was Sunday night and he wondered where exactly the last two days had gone.

Dream was nowhere to be found. With his legs wobbling beneath him, Tommy set out and discovered not only was Dream not in the bedroom, he wasn’t in the apartment at all.

It was eerie, being alone. Fear still guided his every step, even without the monster leaning over his shoulder. He half-wanted to lay back down, to wait for Dream to return and to tell him what to do.

But the fear of Dream’s return only just outweighed the fear of his absence.

Tommy steeled himself. He knew what he had to do.

Though his balance wavered, he managed to shove his feet into his shoes. He took only his phone; there wasn’t time to grab anything else, not when Dream could return at any moment.

With his good hand braced against the railing, he stumbled down the stairs of their apartment building and burst out into the frigid night air.

His mind was both blank and frantic. But whether he could organize his thoughts or not, his body knew what to do. Without hesitation, he put distance between himself and the building, staggering on unsteady legs down the sidewalk.

As he half-ran into the darkness of the city, he shakily pulled up a contact on his phone. Ducking into an alley, he steeled himself and pressed Call.

Chapter 7

Summary:

Same warnings as last chapter. Please be careful!

Three days. It had been three days since they’d heard so much as a word from Tommy, and Wilbur was going out of his mind.

“He said he was sick, mate,” Phil tried to reassure him. But even he sounded unsure and Wilbur caught him rereading Tommy’s text more than once. Even Techno was on edge, even sharper than usual.

“He made it pretty clear he doesn’t want us involved in his personal life,” Phil said, however reluctantly, when Wilbur pressed him. “We need to leave him alone.”

So all Wilbur could do was wait until Monday and hope his pseudo-little brother showed up.

It was Sunday night when that changed. The three of them were lounging in the living room, Techno reading, Phil typing away at his laptop, and Wilbur flicking absently through channels.

Then Wilbur’s phone began to ring, Tommy’s contact flashing across the screen.

Instantly, Wilbur was on edge. He picked up the phone, waving his hand frantically at Techno and Phil to get their attention.

“Tommy?” He said, and their heads snapped towards him. He put the phone on speaker.

“Wilbur?”

Wilbur nearly broke at that. Tommy’s voice was small and wobbly, like he’d been crying. “Tommy, what’s wrong?”

“Wilbur, I—” He cut off sharply, his breath catching in his throat. “I need help.”

Wilbur shot to his feet, Phil and Techno on his heels. They were out the door in seconds, shoes untied and jackets shoved on haphazardly.

“Are you at your apartment?” Wilbur asked, watching as Techno frantically pressed the elevator button for the ground floor.

Tommy nearly sobbed at that. “No, I— I ran. I know I shouldn’t have, but I was so scared—”

“Okay, it’s okay,” Wilbur soothed. “Can you tell me where you are?”

“Um, I don’t— I don’t know. I can send you my location?”

“Good,” Wilbur said. “Do that.”

They were in the car now, Techno sliding behind the wheel and Phil in the passenger seat. Wilbur got in back, forgoing his seatbelt as he leaned forward to direct Techno towards the location Tommy had provided.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” Wilbur asked, trying not to sound as frightened as he felt.

“He’s gonna kill me, Wil, he’s gonna—” The words caught in Tommy’s throat.

“Who?” Wilbur demanded. “Dream?”

Tommy just sobbed.

Wilbur’s throat was dry with fear. “What did he do?”

“My hand,” Tommy gasped. “My hand— I can’t— Wilbur, I need— He’s gonna kill me, I need to go back—”

“No!” Wilbur said urgently. “Don’t go back, Tommy. We’re almost there.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” Wilbur’s breath was in his throat. “Just hang on, love. You’re going to be fine.”

Tommy’s voice had dropped to a whisper and even over the phone, Wilbur could hear how his breath trembled. “What if he finds me?”

“He won’t,” Wilbur said firmly. “We’re almost there. He’s never going to touch you again.”

Tommy just whimpered.

Even with Techno breaking every traffic law known to man, it took far too long for them to reach Tommy’s location.

Wilbur was out of the car before it had even stopped moving.

“Tommy!”

The kid looked up.

Tommy’s eyes were glazed and red with tears. He was shuddering, and he looked about two breaths away from collapsing entirely. His left hand was bandaged and cradled shakily to his chest.

Tommy practically collapsed when Wilbur reached him, and Wilbur staggered at the sudden weight.

“Oh, kiddo. What happened?”

“I ran,” Tommy gasped. His face was buried in Wilbur’s chest and Wilbur could feel the tears soaking into his shirt. “I was scared. I ran.”

“You did so well,” Wilbur soothed. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

“Wilbur!” Phil barked sharply, and Wilbur turned to see Phil beckoning him to the car. “Car. Now.”

“Right.” Wilbur swung his arm around Tommy’s shoulder— not missing the violent way the kid flinched— and herded him swiftly to the car.

“Tommy,” Phil said, and he tried to smile from where he’d twisted in the front seat. “It’s good to see you, mate.”

Tommy didn’t say anything as he slid into the backseat. He didn’t even look at Phil. He just stared dully ahead, his body stiff next to Wilbur’s. Wilbur had to do up Tommy’s seatbelt himself.

He hardly seemed to notice as they spoke to him. He was shaking, so Wilbur tucked his coat around his shoulders. Tommy flinched at the sudden intrusion, but relaxed quickly into its warmth.

Tommy remained unnervingly quiet even as they arrived at their building. He was pliant as they made their way up to the penthouse, stumbling along wherever Wilbur guided him.

He collapsed onto the couch the moment he was prodded, as if all of his strings had been cut at once.

Phil sat on the coffee table in front of him, reminiscent of their conversation just a few days ago.

“Mate, I need to see your hand. Is it all right if I take a look at it?”

Tommy didn’t say anything, but he held it out for Phil to take.

“What happened?” Phil asked, as he took Tommy’s wrist between gentle fingers and began to unwind the dirtied bandages.

Wilbur was sure Tommy would remain silent, as he had since he'd gotten in the car, so he was surprised when Tommy answered.

“Punishment,” he said dully, and Wilbur suddenly wished Phil hadn’t asked at all.

Phil’s jaw jumped minutely, but that was the only sign of his growing rage. His voice remained calm as he asked, “What kind of punishment?”

Tommy looked up then and Wilbur was taken aback by the dead-eyed look that greeted him.

“Burning.”

Oh, God. Oh, fuck.

The bandages fell away and Wilbur nearly staggered back at the sight.

Tommy’s palm was ruined. The skin was raw and half-melted, and the fingers looked like they’d been seared unevenly. Wilbur could practically see the tendons jumping in Tommy’s palm as his hand shook in Phil’s hold.

Tommy just stared at it with a look of quiet acceptance. “Punishment,” he repeated dully.

Nausea was rising in Wilbur’s throat and he looked away quickly.

“Dream did this?” Phil’s voice was calm. Wilbur wasn’t sure how he managed it.

Tommy nodded. “But he wrapped it after,” he added, like that would somehow make up for the horrific act of violence Dream had committed. “And he put, like, antibacterial stuff on it.”

Phil’s jaw was tight. “I see that.” He took a deep breath then and adjusted his gentle grip on Tommy’s wrist. “I’m going to take care of this, Tommy.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy said, so calmly Wilbur had to turn around so that he wouldn’t reveal the look of utter nausea that had settled across his face. “I deserved it.”

Wilbur met Techno’s eyes, watching as rage colored them red.

“You didn’t,” Phil said firmly, and Wilbur could hear the barely-contained fury beneath his words.

“I don’t know, I mean— I’m annoying, aren’t I?” Tommy gave a watery smile. “I know I’m hard to deal with sometimes. Dream just has to discipline me a bit.”

“God, I can’t— I can’t even begin to explain how wrong you are,” Wilbur said desperately. “What— what made him do this?”

“I didn’t listen,” Tommy said dully. His eyes were glassy, but Wilbur couldn’t tell if it was from tears or pure dissociation. “He wanted me to quit. And I wouldn’t.”

Phil’s brow crinkled. “What?”

“You can’t— you can’t have me, he said.” Tommy stared dully ahead. “He owns me.”

Wilbur had never heard Tommy sound so defeated.

“No, he doesn’t,” Phil said fiercely, and Tommy flinched minutely at his tone. “No one owns you.” He spat the word bitterly.

Tommy just smiled a little, small and tired and so defeated. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Wilbur said firmly. He was seething with rage, fury hot in his chest. He was going to strangle the man who had made Tommy so afraid.

But this wasn’t a battle they were going to win now.

“You seem a little out of it,” Techno said. It was the first time he’d spoken since Tommy’s hand had been revealed. He sat on the couch next to Tommy and peered into his eyes. He was careful not to touch him, though his hands lingered in the air like he wanted to take Tommy’s face in them. “Did you hit your head?”

Tommy shook his head. “It’s— Dream’s been—” He blinked, like he couldn’t quite remember.

Wilbur was nearly sick again. “What?” he demanded, doing his best to keep his voice even. He’d scared Tommy enough. “What has Dream been doing?”

“Pills,” Tommy said, and Wilbur’s heart sank. “He kept— feeding me pills.” He looked up, his eyes glassy and dazed. “They made me sleepy. I couldn’t— I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think.”

A dark look had crossed both Phil and Techno’s faces, and Wilbur was sure his own expression matched.

“He’s been drugging you?” Techno demanded lowly.

Tommy flinched at Techno's harsh voice, but recovered quickly as Techno’s expression softened.

“It’s okay,” Techno soothed, his tone easing into something more comforting. This was a side of Techno he rarely revealed; even Wilbur had only seen it a handful of times, when he’d gotten himself sick or hurt enough that Techno dropped his uncaring facade.

“You’re all right,” Techno said, and he lifted his hand to Tommy’s face. Tommy flinched minutely, but he allowed Techno to cup his cheek and peer into his eyes. “When was the last time you took anything?”

Tommy hesitated. “I— I’m not sure. It’s Sunday, right?”

Wilbur inhaled a quiet, sharp breath. He knew Tommy was disoriented, but this was worse than he’d originally imagined.

“Yeah,” Techno said, his tone unreadable. “It’s Sunday night.”

Tommy nodded, then seemed to regret it as he slammed his eyes shut. Techno held his face steady until the nausea receded from Tommy’s expression.

“The last time I remember taking anything was when it was sunny,” Tommy said hoarsely. “But I dunno what day it was.”

He leaned into Techno’s hand, his eyes fluttering lightly. Techno’s face was impassive, but Wilbur watched as his throat jumped.

“Okay,” Techno said. “That’s okay. Based on your disorientation, I’m going to assume it was today. Do you remember what it was he gave you? A bottle or a name or even the kind of pill?”

Tommy blinked, his eyes crinkling in thought. “It was an orange bottle.”

Fuck, Wilbur thought, and he knew it was a sentiment shared among the three adults. A prescription medication was likely to be a lot stronger than an over-the-counter drug, and Wilbur was willing to bet that whatever Tommy had been taking was closer to a sedative than a painkiller.

Apparently, Techno had concluded the same, if the tightening of his jaw was anything to go by.

But he kept his voice neutral and his hand soft as he let it slide from Tommy’s face. Tommy chased it, his head tilting after the hand, before he righted himself.

“All right,” Techno said. “Thank you for telling us.”

“What am I gonna do?” Tommy whispered.

“You’re going to stay here,” Phil said, and Tommy startled like he’d forgotten he was there.

“He’ll find me.” Tommy’s face was deathly pale. “He always finds me.”

And God, Wilbur didn’t want to think about the implications of that.

Suddenly, as if the universe was listening and cruel, a phone began to ring on the coffee table. Tommy’s phone began to ring.

Tommy jolted.

“It’s Dream, fuck, it’s Dream, I’m gonna— I’m gonna die—” Tommy was gasping for breath, clawing at his throat with his good hand.

Techno caught his wrist and pulled it away from his throat easily.

“Fuck,” Tommy gasped. “He’s gonna find me, he’s gonna kill me— Techno, I have to go back!”

“You’re not going back,” Techno said fiercely.

“I have to, he’ll kill me!”

“No, he won’t.” Techno sat beside Tommy on the couch and caught Tommy by the chin. “Look at me, Tommy.” Tommy did, his eyes wide and tearful. “You’re not going anywhere. He’s never going to come near you again.”

“You don’t know that,” Tommy said, and he was nearly begging now. Wilbur was going to be sick. “You don’t know him, you don’t know what he’ll do—”

“I don’t need to know him,” Techno said swiftly. “I know me. And I know that there is no force on Earth that could keep me from protecting you.”

Tommy burst into tears.

Before Wilbur could blink, Techno had Tommy pressed to his chest. His hand came up to cradle Tommy’s face and it practically dwarfed Tommy’s cheek.

“Please,” Tommy gasped, and he clawed at Techno’s shirt with his good hand. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Techno said, his voice low and soft in a way Wilbur rarely heard. “I know. But you’re safe here. I’m gonna protect you.”

“I’m scared,” Tommy repeated. It was nearly a whimper and Wilbur felt his heart break at the sound of it.

“He can’t get to you here,” Techno said firmly. “What are you scared of?”

“Me,” Tommy whispered, and Wilbur felt confusion twist in his chest.

Apparently, it was a shared sentiment because Techno pulled Tommy away from his chest just enough to look into his eyes. His large hand engulfed Tommy’s cheek, tilting his jaw up to look Techno in the eye. “What do you mean?”

Tommy hiccuped. “If Dream—” He shuddered. Techno rubbed a firm, soothing pattern down his back. Tommy seemed to steel himself, taking a deep breath and opening his mouth to try again. “If Dream tells me to do something, I have to do it.”

Darkness flickered across Techno’s expression. “What do you mean?” There wasn’t an ounce of inflection in his voice, and Wilbur knew him well enough to know that that was dangerous.

“He knows what’s best for me,” Tommy said, and it was like he was reading from a script. His eyes were blank, despite his shiny tears. “I have to do what he says.”

“What will happen if you don’t, mate?” Phil’s voice was gentle, but Wilbur could see the furious glint in his eyes.

“I don’t know.” It was a quiet, whispered confession. “Something bad.”

“Tommy, I need to ask you something.” Phil’s voice was serious. “If Dream came through those doors right now—”

Tommy stiffened automatically, a whine escaping his locked lips. Techno pressed him closer, a hand rubbing soothing circles into his back.

Phil continued. “If Dream came through those doors and told you to go with him, would you do it?”

“I don’t want to,” Tommy whimpered, and his fingers dug even harder into the fabric of Techno’s shirt.

“I know, mate,” Phil said softly. “But would you do it?”

Tommy’s face crumpled and he nodded. “I have to,” he gasped. “I have to be good.”

“Okay,” Techno murmured, cradling Tommy impossibly closer and stroking a broad thumb across his cheek. “You’re okay. We’ve got you.”

“All right,” Phil said, watching impassively as Techno comforted the trembling teenager. “Thank you for telling us, mate. We’re gonna keep him away from you.”

“I’m scared,” Tommy whispered. “Dream’s my friend, but… I’m scared.”

“He’s not your friend,” Techno said firmly. “Friends shouldn’t make you feel like that.”

Tommy looked up then, pulling away from Techno slightly, his eyes wide and watery. “But— but Wilbur did.”

It was like an arrow to the chest. Wilbur nearly staggered.

“I was— I was worried,” Wilbur said. His hands were trembling and Techno was shaking his head at him, but he had to explain this. “You wouldn’t let me help you—”

“That’s what Dream always says,” Tommy said bitterly. “I’m just worried about you, Tommy. You need to learn your lesson.” He looked up at Wilbur, his eyes dead with betrayal. “Was that what you wanted to do? You wanted to teach me a lesson like Dream?”

“No. Tommy, I—” Wilbur felt weak under the weight of Tommy’s distrustful gaze. “I’m sorry. I know I scared you. I never should have done that and I swear to you, I never will again.”

Tommy just stared up at him, his jaw clenched and his eyes wet.

The phone had stopped ringing long ago, but it began again now. Tommy jolted and his fingers dug harder into Techno.

“I should—” Tommy’s breath was shaky. “I should answer it.”

“Mate—” Phil said, a warning clear in his voice. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Maybe it’ll be better if I answer.” Tommy was trembling all over. “Maybe— maybe my punishment will be less if I don’t avoid it—”

“You’re not going to be punished,” Phil said, but it was clear Tommy wasn’t registering reality now.

“I need to—” Tommy was gasping, reaching for the phone. Phil held it away from him and Tommy sobbed, nearly falling off of the couch to lunge for it. Techno caught him, grunting as Tommy thrashed in his grip.

Tommy’s bandaged hand slammed into the edge of the coffee table and he let out a cry. Still, he didn’t stop struggling against Techno.

“Mate, you need to calm down. You’re hurting yourself.”

But Tommy wasn’t listening. He only struggled harder, screaming when it proved fruitless.

“Tommy!” Techno’s voice was firm, and Wilbur watched as Tommy faltered slightly. “You need to calm down, or I’m gonna have to make you.”

Tommy sobbed and jerked under Techno’s hold.

“All right.” With a grunt, Techno caught his flailing wrists and pinned them together in one hand. With his other, he pulled Tommy’s back against his chest, securing him around the waist. Tommy bucked and thrashed against his grip, but he was quickly losing momentum as Techno held him firm.

“Settle down,” Techno growled in his ear.

“Please,” Tommy begged and Wilbur nearly covered his ears at the sound of his breathless, terrified pleas. “Please, he’ll kill me.”

“You’re here, kid,” Techno gritted out. He wasn’t physically having trouble restraining Tommy, but Wilbur could see the emotional toll it was taking on him. “You’re safe.”

Tommy gave one more desperate lurch, but Techno’s grip held firm.

Phil stroked a gentle hand down Tommy’s cheek, clearing the tear tracks before more quickly took their place. “You’re all right, mate,” he said soothingly.

Tommy shuddered, turning his head into Phil’s palm. His breath was hitching.

“You’re safe,” Phil murmured. Tommy sobbed, his head sagging into Phil’s touch. His eyes fluttered. The emotional and physical turmoil was catching up to him and it was clear.

Wilbur just watched, muted and horrified, as Tommy lost his battle to sleep.

Chapter 8

Summary:

Finally, a little comfort~

Later, when Tommy was still unconscious on the couch, the other three gathered themselves in the kitchen.

“They sleep in the same bed,” Wilbur said bitterly. He wasn’t sure why he started with that, but that knowledge had been sitting at the forefront of his mind for far too long.

Techno’s eyes flashed up and Phil startled.

“What?” Phil hissed, his eyes sharp.

Wilbur nodded.

“Are you suggesting what I think you are?” Phil’s tone was careful. Wilbur could practically hear him curbing his anger.

“I just don’t think we can afford to rule it out,” Wilbur said. He hated even suggesting it, but after the horrific display of panic they’d just witnessed, he couldn’t help but see just how vulnerable Tommy was to Dream. “Come on,” he said. “If Dream tells me to do something, I have to do it?”

Techno’s eyes darkened at that.

“I don’t like how it looks,” Phil admitted. “But right now, he’s overwhelmed. When he’s in a more… safety-oriented mindset, I’ll talk to him about it.”

“You mean, when he’s not trying to hurt himself,” Wilbur said darkly.

“He was scared,” Phil said. He’d had to re-wrap Tommy’s hand while he slept, undoing the bandages to check that he hadn’t damaged the burned flesh further. “I doubt self-harm was the intention.”

Wilbur nodded reluctantly.

“Techno.”

At his name, Techno looked up.

Phil gave him a little smile. “You’ve been quiet. Are you all right?”

Techno shrugged. “I— I don’t know if I should have held him down like that. What if I just scared him more?”

Phil sighed. “I know what you mean, but… he was hurting himself. I think in the moment, you handled it the best you could.”

“What if he’s afraid of me?”

“Then you can join the club,” Wilbur said wryly, though he didn’t feel much like joking. “At this point, I’m pretty sure Phil’s the only one who hasn’t majorly screwed up with the kid.”

“Oh, give me some time,” Phil said with a quiet laugh. “I did a number on you two growing up, didn’t I?” At Wilbur and Techno’s smiles, he relaxed a bit. “We all make mistakes,” he reminded them. “We just have to make sure we do better in the future.”

Wilbur and Techno nodded.

“Good. Now, it’s late. Let’s get some sleep while we still can.”

***

“Wilbur?”

A quiet voice tugged Wilbur from sleep. He lifted his head, squinting through the darkness. Tommy was standing over his bed, his arms curled around himself, fingers digging into his oversized shirt.

Phil had changed Tommy’s shirt before going to bed to avoid Tommy possibly catching a chill from the damp fabric. They’d left him bundled up on the couch, hopeful that he’d sleep off the remaining effects of the drugs through the night. But apparently, Tommy was restless even in his dazed state.

Wilbur propped himself up on his elbows, rubbing at his eyes. “Tommy? What’s up?”

“I can’t sleep,” Tommy whispered. Wilbur hated hearing him like this— so small, so different from the Tommy he knew.

“Do you want me to sit with you?” Wilbur asked, suppressing a yawn.

Tommy hesitated. “Can I… stay here with you?”

Wilbur blinked.

“Tommy, I don’t know—”

“Please.” For the first time, Wilbur noticed that Tommy’s eyes were darting uncertainly, his good hand fiddling with the hem of his shirt. “I’m not used to… sleeping alone.”

Wilbur grimaced at the implications of that, but he felt himself beginning to relent.

“All right,” he said, shifting over and pulling back the covers.

Tommy didn’t hesitate in clambering in. As he did, Wilbur maneuvered himself to lay on top of the covers, grabbing a blanket from the end of his bed and pulling it up around him.

Tommy squinted at him in the darkness. “What’re you doing?”

“I don’t think I should sleep under the covers with you,” Wilbur explained, settling himself next to Tommy again, this time on top of the comforter.

“How come?” Tommy sounded confused.

Wilbur hesitated. “It’s hard to explain. I’m an adult. I just don’t think it would be appropriate.”

“But I’m saying it’s all right,” Tommy said, frustration coloring his tone.

“I know. But you’re tired and upset and you might feel differently when you wake up.”

“Wilbur—”

“Tommy.”

He quieted. Wilbur ran a soothing hand over his curls and Tommy practically preened at the touch.

“Adults in your life have been irresponsible in demonstrating the kind of affection that’s appropriate between you and them.” Wilbur looked Tommy in the eyes as he said this, his voice firm. “I’m not going to be one of them.”

Tommy didn’t look happy, but he nodded all the same.

“We can talk about it more tomorrow,” Wilbur said. “But for now, I think you should get some rest.”

“Okay,” Tommy whispered, though he sounded reluctant. “But… Can you still hold me?”

Wilbur let out a little sigh. His chest nearly ached at Tommy’s small voice. “Of course.” He curled onto his side and rested his arm over Tommy. Tommy huddled closer to him, tucking himself under Wilbur’s chin. The barrier of blankets remained between them, but Tommy did his best to press himself as close to Wilbur as possible.

“Wil?” Tommy’s voice was small, hardly a whisper in the darkness. It carried none of its usual bravado and Wilbur was struck suddenly by how young he sounded.

“Yeah?”

“What’s gonna happen to me?”

Wilbur didn’t have any answer he could give, but he could say this:

“You’re family now. You have been for a while.” His grip tightened around the boy in his arms. “That means we’re going to take care of you. Can you trust us?”

Tommy looked up at him. His eyes were wide, but still clever. Still Tommy. “Yeah,” he said. “But… Is it okay that I’m still scared?”

“Oh, buddy.” Wilbur pulled Tommy in, tucking his head under his chin and sliding his fingers through the kid’s hair. “Of course it’s okay.”

A question was twisting in him though, one that begged to be voiced.

“Can I ask… are you afraid of me or Techno?”

Tommy pulled back just enough to look up at him. “Why would I be afraid of you?”

“We—” Wilbur hesitated. “I scared you the other day. I didn’t mean to, but I made you feel unsafe. And Techno— he restrained you while you were panicking. He won’t bring it up with you, but he’s worried you’ll be afraid of him now, or angry with him.”

“Oh.” Tommy sounded surprised, like he hadn’t really thought about it. “No,” he said finally. “I don’t think so. I— I trust you. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me.”

“Even though I scared you like Dream did?”

“Dream hurt me,” Tommy said firmly. It pained Wilbur to hear him say it so blasély. “He left marks on me. You and Techno didn’t.”

“We would never,” Wilbur said fiercely. He was holding Tommy as tightly as he could, as if the boy would go slipping through his fingers if he loosened his grip.

“I know.” Tommy was quiet for a moment, just breathing into Wilbur’s shirt. “And… Dream’s never held me like this before.”

Wilbur forced himself not to stiffen. “Yeah?”

Tommy gave a little nod. “Yeah. Like… like he wanted to comfort me. Like I was important.”

Wilbur swallowed. He didn’t know what to say in the face of that heartbreaking confession. He chose this:

“You are important. And I’ll hold you like this every day until you know, and every day after that too.”

Tommy exhaled shakily and Wilbur felt it against his shirt.

“‘Kay,” he whispered, a little shaky.

“‘Kay,” Wilbur echoed. “You think you can get some sleep now?”

Tommy nodded, his face smushed against Wilbur’s chest. “G'night, Wilbur.”

“Goodnight, love.”

Wilbur fell asleep like that, with the warmth of his little brother pressed tight to him. They both slept soundly through the night.

Chapter 9

Summary:

A resolution!

Warning: Discussion of abuse, manipulation, and underage non-con (The non-con NEVER occurs. It is only a speculation/worry that must be addressed. It is refuted by Tommy, but it is discussed, so I thought I should add a warning.)

“Tommy, this is important.”

Tommy’s heart was pounding. No good conversation ever started out like that.

He was sitting in Phil’s office, a strange recreation of that first conversation they’d had that had begun to tug the threads of his lies loose.

When Tommy said nothing, Phil continued. “We’ve noticed a few things about your relationship with Dream that I think we need to discuss.”

Tommy let out a nervous laugh. “What, we haven’t talked about my hand enough?”

Phil didn’t smile. “Different things, Tommy.”

Tommy shut his mouth.

“Wilbur mentioned something about you sharing a bed with Dream?” It was spoken like a question, but Tommy knew it wasn’t one.

“What does that matter?” Tommy asked stiffly.

“It might not,” Phil said, holding up his hands in defense. “But I need to make sure.”

“We’re poor,” Tommy said staunchly. “There was no reason to spend money on another mattress when one suited us just fine.”

“I understand,” Phil said soothingly. “You’re not in trouble.”

That would have been easier to believe if Phil wasn’t speaking so somberly.

“You were fourteen when you came to live with Dream?”

Tommy nodded.

“And how old was Dream then?”

“Twenty-one,” Tommy said, shifting uncomfortably. “Does it matter?” He meant to sound demanding, but it came out small and unsure.

Phil gave him a reassuring smile, though it was strained. “Maybe. I don’t know yet. Did you share the bed then?”

Tommy’s jaw ached from how tight he was clenching it. He nodded.

“And did Dream ever give you another option?”

That caught Tommy off-guard. Was— was Dream supposed to?

He spluttered. “It’s not— was he supposed to?”

Phil’s expression was unreadable. “Yes. As an adult, he should have made it clear to you that you had a choice in where you slept, especially if the option he gave you was sleeping with him.”

Tommy flushed at the phrasing. “Well— the only other option was the floor or the couch.”

“And did you know you could take it?”

Tommy bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. He felt suddenly like he was losing this debate— conversation— whatever it was. “No,” he bit out.

Phil sighed. He didn’t look happy. “Tommy, has Dream ever… touched you in a way that made you uncomfortable?”

Tommy smiled, but it tasted sour. “I mean, burning the skin off my hand would make anyone a bit uncomfortable, wouldn’t it?”

“Tommy.”

His smile fell.

Phil’s voice was gentle but firm. “You know what I mean.”

“Not sure I do, Big Man.” He was clinging to the last ounce of humor he had, hoping beyond hope that if he just evaded the question enough times, Phil would let it go.

Unfortunately, Phil wasn’t that kind of man.

“I’m not asking to make you uncomfortable. I just need to know how to best take care of you,” Phil said patiently. “You don’t have to tell me everything, but I do need you to make some attempt to communicate.”

“Fuck you,” Tommy said helpfully. Internally, he winced. He didn’t know why he came out so sharp. Phil was just trying to help, but Tommy could never help baring his teeth.

Phil gave him a patient smile. “Tommy. Whatever you tell me, I will not be upset with you, not at all.” He took a deep breath. “What I’m having trouble with is your understanding of your relationship with Dream.”

Tommy was silent. His teeth dug into his bottom lip.

“You have to understand what this looks like to an outsider,” Phil said gently. “You don’t have to give me details. I just need confirmation or denial.”

“Will it—” Tommy bit his lip. “Will it change anything?”

“Your answer?” Phil prodded, and Tommy nodded. “A bit,” Phil conceded. “It won’t change how we think of you. It won’t change how much we care about you,” he said firmly. “But it will help us understand how to better take care of you.”

Tommy took a deep breath.

“He didn’t,” he said finally. “Whatever you’re thinking… he didn’t. But…” Tommy swallowed. “It’s hard to explain. He made me feel so small.” His teeth hurt from how hard they were clenched. “Like he could if he wanted to.”

Phil nodded slowly.

“Thank you for telling me that,” he said softly. “That must have been really hard for you to deal with.”

Tears pricked at the corners of Tommy’s eyes and he had to blink hard to get rid of them.

“What’s gonna happen to me?”

“Well, Dream’s going to jail, first of all.”

Tommy stiffened and his eyes shot up. “You can’t. If the police get involved, they’ll find out about me. I can’t go back to the system.” He hated how small he sounded, but he couldn’t help it.

“You won’t.” Phil’s voice was firm. “Don’t worry. I’ve looked into it. Dream’s committed plenty of other crimes beyond his treatment of you, starting with however he’s currently making money. I can get him locked up without involving you.”

“But… jail?” Tommy said. He hated how unsure he felt. “Did he really do anything that bad?”

Tommy was suddenly certain he’d said something wrong. A horrified expression crossed Phil’s face before he was able to school it into something more calm.

He took a deep breath. “Yes, Tommy. Everything he did to you was wrong.”

“But—” The words died on Tommy’s lips.

Phil’s voice was gentle but firm. “You did nothing wrong. You didn’t deserve anything Dream did to you.”

Tommy let out a shaky breath.

“I know it’s hard,” Phil continued. “But we’re going to help you.”

Tommy lifted his voice just enough to echo, “We?”

Phil hesitated visibly. “If you’d like. We— we want you to stay.”

“For how long?” Tommy wasn’t sure he wanted an answer. He always wore people too thin the longer he stuck around; no one really wanted to keep him for long.

But Phil surprised him. He kept doing that.

“For as long as you’d like. Forever, if you’re inclined.”

Tommy let out a bitter laugh before he could stop himself. “Don’t just say that. Not if you don’t mean it.”

Phil was unmoving. “I’m not. I don’t say things I don’t mean, Tommy. I’d hope you know that by now.”

Tommy was quiet. He did know that, as much as his brain was hard-wired to distrust it.

“Is there anything else you’d like to talk about right now?” Phil asked gently. “We can always re-visit topics, and as I continue my investigation into Dream, I may need to ask you some more questions. Would that be okay?”

Tommy nodded.

Phil smiled softly at him. “All right. Shall we join the others again?”

Wilbur and Techno were waiting for them in the hall outside of Phil’s office. When they exited, the two men shot up, their eyes searching between Phil and Tommy.

“Wilbur, Techno.” When Tommy glanced back, Phil was rolling his eyes. “I told you two to give us some privacy.”

“We weren’t listening,” Wilbur defended. “Promise.” His eyes settled on Tommy, and for some reason, he looked nervous. “So. Are you staying?”

Tommy glanced back at Phil, who gave him a nod of reassurance.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so shy. “If you’ll have me.”

“Have you?” Wilbur echoed. He was grinning. “I thought I was going to have to fight to keep you.”

Techno rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. His hand landed, heavy, on Tommy’s hair, and Tommy found himself leaning into the touch. “Happy to have you, kid. God knows you’ll be an improvement from Wilbur.”

Tommy couldn’t help his grin as Wilbur squawked and Phil cackled.

Techno’s hand settled as a grounding weight across Tommy’s shoulders as he led him to the kitchen. Tommy could hear Wilbur and Phil trailing behind, Wilbur still protesting Techno’s barb.

“We got you, kid,” Techno murmured into Tommy’s hair, steering him around the corner. “We’re not lettin’ you go.”

Tommy smiled and pressed himself closer to Techno’s side.

Notes:

Thank you for sticking with me through this! It's possible I'll add another installment (making this a series), with some scenes involving Tommy's recovering and settling in. However, nothing is currently written, so I make no promises.

Thank you again!

Notes:

The whole fic is already written. I'm just editing it and will be uploading the rest of it soon.

As always, thank you for reading!

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of In the Half-Light