Chapter Text
"A new house? Again?"
Tommy sighed as he endured the tortures of Bad, lecturing him about his last house. It's nothing new, he's heard this tune before. "You really need to try to at least give the houses a chance before you decide to drive them mad. Most of these houses are being taken care of by good people, you just won't give them a chance, and I don't see why."
The last house wasn't a good one, but it's not like I'm not used to it. Just another bad run. Tommy shifted in his seat, already tired of sitting in the social worker's office. Nothing good comes from conversations like these. Always in the same order: New house, stay at least a month, have something happen, get sent back, get lectured, then shipped off to another house again. You'd think they'd just kick him out of the system by now, he's already 16, it's not like he can't take care of himself.
These past few years, he's been shipped off to quite a few bad houses. Houses that are in it for the money, leaving the children to fend for themselves while they do whatever they want. Or they would use the children for their own entertainment; make the children do everything, abuse, chores, personal servants, etc. These are the houses he'd like to forget the most, but the scars from a few of these bad houses are constant reminders, and Tommy doesn't like reminders.
He tunes back into the conversation and out of his thoughts when he hears Bad let out and exhausted sigh, "Look, Tommy, we've been doing this for 9 years. And frankly, we don't have anymore homes willing to take you in." This made Tommy look up, hopeful. Were they finally going to give up on him? Let him go? This made him a little happy.
A knock sounded on the door, "Mr. Halo? I'm sorry for interrupting, but we have a Mr. Philza Watson on the phone for you." Bad looked away from Tommy towards the lady standing at the door. "Excellent, what line is he on?" he asked, picking up his desk phone. "Line 4, sir." "Alright, thank you. You can go now." he responded. Bad pressed the button for line 4, waiting a few moments before the call went through, "Mr. Watson, thank you for calling me back! Have you thought about what we discussed?...Uh-huh....yes, the other houses refused....Really?! When would you like me to drop him off?....Alrighty then, I'll be seeing you soon. Thank you Mr. Watson. Have a good day, let me know if there are any other questions. Good-bye!"
Bad hung up the phone, then looked at Tommy with a smile. Right then, Tommy felt his hopes and happiness be crushed, tossed in a blender, fried, then set on fire. When his social worker opened his mouth the speak again, the words Tommy dreaded were spoken, "Actually, all hope is not lost! We just word back from our last resort, which is an emergency house, and Mr. Watson and his wife have decided to let you stay with them until we can find a more permanent living arrangement!"
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If there was one thing Tommy hates about foster care, it's how most of the houses he was shipped to looked the same.
As he looked out of the passenger seat of Bad's car, he heard the social worker speak. "I know that the last house ended...badly, but I want you to at least promise me to give this one a chance. Actually try to get along with them?" he pleaded, desperate for the boy to at least have one good house he liked.
For the sake of the gray hairs that he knows he probably puts on the poor guy's head from dealing with his case, Tommy glances towards Bad before looking back out the window. He briefly sees a dog, and decided that he's getting one someday. "I'll try, but don't expect me to get all buddy-buddy with them and all that shit." he responded, vaguely hearing Bad's "Language.". This one's probably no better than the rest of them. So there's no point in trying.
He was broken out of his thoughts when Bad pulled into a driveway, "We're here!" he cheered. Tommy looked to the house, It's, decent. Doesn't mean anything though. He observed the way the house looked to have 2 stories to it, with a balcony at the front of the top half of the building. The porch, he noted, looked relatively simple. A small coffee table on one side of the porch, with a couple of chairs near it. On the other side of the porch was a bench, big enough to fit about 2 or 3 people. He also noticed the potted plants lining the porch and the ones hanging from various places.
At least it was a little different. Was he going to admit that? Hell no. So, he opted for the second choice.
"It's so fucking generic that it hurts to look at." he announces, putting on a show of placing a disappointed look on his face. Bad sighs, used to his comments, "1. Language, and 2. you and I both know that this house looks different and you're just too stubborn to admit that."
"It's the truth." Tommy scoffs, upset to be called out so quickly. He stays next to the car while Bad goes to ring the doorbell, waiting for someone to answer the door. A woman ends up answering the door. She looks old enough to be a mother, So this is Mr. WaTsOnS' wife? She looks...okay, but looks can be deceiving.
"Oh, you must be Mr. Halo, the social worker, yes?" she asks, looking between Bad and Tommy. "Yes, that would be me, would you mind if come inside?" Bad replies, "No, not all, come in please." she opens the door fully and steps aside to let them in. Bad turns around and gestures towards Tommy, "Come one, Tommy. At least give it a chance?"
Reluctantly, Tommy lifts himself off the car and follows Bad inside. Though while walking through the door, he casts a wary glance towards the woman, to which she responds with a small but genuine smile.
Once they get inside, the woman gestures off to the right towards the living room. After they sit down, she turns towards to blonde boy "You must be Tommy, right? Mr. Halo told us about you.". Tommy decides to respond with a glance at Bad then a slow nod of his head. This makes Bad smile, although he isn't sure why, he's done this way too many times to count.
Mrs. Watson smiled, "Well, my name's Kristin, but you're welcome to call me anything." he gives a singular nod. He doesn't like these situations, where he's forced to have a decent interaction with someone. He'd rather be in whatever room they so graciously have decided to let him use until Bad pulls a miracle out of his ass and finds another house to stay at for a while.
Someone pulls into the driveway, Tommy counts the sound of 3 car doors closing. "Kristin! We're home!" a man says, walking through the door. Soon enough, 3 people walk into the living room. "Oh, he's here already?" the man Tommy assumed was Mr. Watson, asked. "I'm sorry about not being here earlier, but traffics a bi- sucks. The traffic sucked." he explained, cutting himself off before using the curse word. Tommy figured that he probably knew that Bad had a thing about cursing, or Mr. Watson didn't know how the blonde would react to hearing cursing.
"Oh, it's no problem, really. Plus, I don't think he would've handled it very well if we showed up and there were too many people." Bad assured. But he's not wrong, Tommy wasn't sure how he'd react if there were more people other than Kristin waiting for him.
The other two must be his sons, Tommy concluded. The taller of the two had short but fluffy brown hair, small wire glasses, looks like a twig, and probably enjoyed some boring shit like playing guitar and reading. He also thought that this guy must be the one open to talking to just about anyone, unlike the other guy.
The other guy had was a bit shorter with pale pink hair that reached his mid back, though Tommy would guess that it's a bit longer, judging by the fact that it's currently braided. He seemed like the type to keep to himself, probably not a fan of social interaction, and this guy definitely read the really boring books. And no, it's not just because Tommy spotted the book called The Art of War by Sun Tzu in his hands, he just looked like the type.
Tommy figured it would be best to keep his distance away from the family, not making any bonds with the members. He could just feel that these were people that other people got attached to easily. So he schooled a blank but bored expression on his face, much like the pink haired guy had. Answer as little as possible, keep away from attachments, you're not gonna be here long, he repeated this in his head. His mantra, per say, because this is his thought anytime he's in a new house.
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Now, Techno wouldn't admit that he completely forgot about the child coming into the house today, but he forgot.
Yesterday, Phil mentioned to the family that there was supposed to be a kid coming to live with them, seeing as they are an emergency house for foster kids who had nowhere to go. He also made sure to drill the fact into their heads that this particular kid's most likely not gonna be as open as the other temporary stays were, seeing as he's been in many houses before this one.
Techno can already feel the headache coming on as he looks at the child currently on their couch. He observed how the younger blonde looked at each of them individually, probably making observations, before schooling a blank and bored expression as if he didn't want to be here at all. Which, he probably didn't.
The pink haired male could sympathize, no, relate to the blonde in a way. Techno himself was a foster kid until about seven years ago, when Phil decided to adopt him. But the way the kid held himself, closed off without giving any hint as to what he was feeling or thinking made Techno conclude that this kid's been into what they call the Bad Ones. The bad ones referring to the bad houses, of course. He could also tell that this was a naturally developed and practiced skill.
He also noticed how that when Phil started asking about different things like his hobbies, the kid became almost protective of what he did in his free-time. He noticed the kid harden his features a bit and answered with the most bland answer of all: "Whatever I feel like doing.". This is also when he noticed the social worker sending desperate worried looks to the teen, and the teen sending 'Don't expect anything else from me, I don't want to be here' looks towards the other.
Honestly, Techno doesn't want to be here either, but hey, here he is. He's also a bit curious as to what must be so important about his hobbies that he gives out the blandest answer ever. As he walks up to his room after the introductions and passive interrogation, he can't help but feel like the kid is hiding something, but who's he to judge? Everyone has secrets, and if said child doesn't want to share, he could care less.
When he reached his room, he changed, fell face forward onto his bed, and promptly fell asleep.
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If he cared enough too, he would've complemented the comfortableness of the bed. But he doesn't, so he isn't.
Tommy now lays sprawled out of the bed of the room he was given, thinking. The room a bit bare, with the bed being on the wall you see when you first walk in, next to the window. There's a dresser on the right side of the room, furthest from the door, and a desk on the wall with the door, a little off to the left of the door, the room also having a grey-scale theme.
As he lay there, he takes a moment to think about the discussion they had earlier. He supposed they weren't entirely horrible, but Kristin and Phil seem too patient for their own good. He also thought abut the one question about hobbies, and his extremely vague answer of "Whatever I feel like doing.". It's not like he can go "Oh, my hobbies include illegal street racing, but don't tell anyone or else I will fucking haunt your dreams." no, that wouldn't work.
After their little 'chat', Bad left so he can finish some paperwork and go home, promptly leaving Tommy alone with people he didn't know. Let's just say that the atmosphere got real awkward real quick. So they decided to show Tommy his room, letting him get comfortable in it before trying to progress in anything.
But now, Tommy's tired, has to go to a new school tomorrow, again, his brain helpfully added, and doesn't care for much else right now. So then and there, not bothering to unpack or anything, he conks out, letting the comforting darkness of sleep consume him.