Chapter Text
The day Tommy arrived it was raining.
Water was running down the roof of the house, dripping into the gutters and ending in the muddy patches by the driveway. The flower’s planted in the spring were long gone, and the sky loomed with the everlasting threat of snow but it never came. Not yet, the wind whispered.
The rain and wind were like soft knocks at the door, Phil ignored them as the drops of water crowded the window behind him. He was up early, working on a piece for his work. A cup of coffee was in his hand, the warmth sinking into his hand mindlessly. In the kitchen there was enough coffee left for another cup for Techno, for whenever he chose to wake up.
A Friday off was a miracle for Techno, across the house he was sleeping in his bed. Half the pillows were thrown onto the floor to join the mess, and as rain thundered on his window he still didn’t wake up. The alarm on his bedside was quiet, ticking down just for a few minutes longer.
In the kitchen was where Wilbur resided, watching the rain paint the wood deck outside a dark ebony. He hated the rain. He was waiting patiently for his water to boil so he could make his morning tea. The tea kettle sat soundlessly on the stove, his fingers bounced off one another as he waited. Wilbur had woken up angry due to the thundering clouds, after failing to be able to fall back asleep he came down to make tea. Hopefully it would make him feel better and hopefully he could go back upstairs and sit down before Phil made him do chores.
Wilbur’s eyes drifted to the time: 9:18, it read. That's when the doorbell rang, a disturbingly creaky thing. Wilbur tried to hold back a groan, he really didn’t want to deal with people right now.
Wilbur still hadn’t changed out of his pajamas, and his hair was not very appealing either. His plan for the day was to read and sleep.
Yet the doorbell rang again. Wilbur’s shoulders slumped as he complied, maneuvering through the house to get the door.
The house was still dark, the curtains drawn closed and the clouds outside eliminating any natural light. As he turned into the living room he stubbed his toe on the couch leg. He winced, cringing as a short pain traveled through his foot. The doorbell rang again.
“I'm coming!” Wilbur shouted bitterly.
Steps away from the door he nearly tripped on Techno’s sports bag, resisting the urge to curse loudly he kicked it away. By now, exasperation was whistling in his head like his tea kettle he could hear from the kitchen.
He sucked in a breath, trying to compose himself as he opened the door with a strong grip.
The door swung open to reveal a blonde, who was hugging a bag to his chest. His hair was flat with rainwater and rain dripped down his thin figure. The storm thundered behind him, thick gray clouds covered the sky, but also lingered in his unfriendly blue eyes.
But the ice in his eyes didn’t melt away once he saw Wilbur, they only sent icicles into his unexpecting heart. Wilbur’s anger was washed away, replaced with utter confusion. Wilbur braced the doorframe, shock hitting him with enough force to rip his breath away as he said, “Tommy?”
The kid–er young adult–standing in front of him didn’t bristle, didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. He simply just stared at him, waiting to come in, Wilbur presumed. Yet, Wilbur still couldn’t determine if the boy in front of him was a ghost or his mind reminding him of something he lost.
“What–?” Wilbur began, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.
“Wil!” Phil was now next to him, “Can you let him in?” He asked nicely; persuasively, like he was cautiously preventing a fight. Wilbur shook his head as he took a step back, still flabbergasted at his brother’s return.
Tommy shouldered his way through the door, promptly ignoring Wilbur’s presence. “What is he doing here?” Wilbur squawked, he didn’t mean to elude that Tommy’s arrival was improbable but it was certainly questionable.
Tommy shot him a glare. His first expression he gave since Wilbur last saw him. He then looked to Phil, “Thanks for the warm welcome,” He grinned, but it was anything but thankful, anything like the Tommy he knew. “Dad,” He tacked on, tone dripping with mockery.
Wilbur watched as Tommy walked into the kitchen and disappeared without a look back.
“What the fu-” Wilbur began, his voice irrevocably raising.
“Wilbur,” Phil inhaled, and if Wilbur wasn’t mistaken, there was a touch of guilt in his eyes. “Can we talk in my office please?”
Wilbur shrugged, his face twisting and he couldn’t help the frustration growing within him. He couldn’t differentiate between the ringing in his ears and the boiling water screaming from where he forgot it on the stove.
-
“And you didn’t think to tell me!?” Wilbur’s voice boomed across the house. Techno winced, knowing how much his father hates to fight with Wilbur. But Wilbur would fight about most anything and everything, meaning Techno didn’t have a clue of what it was about this time.
Techno decided against going to the living room, as he would have to walk past Phil’s office to get there. So he aimed for the kitchen, planning to get a snack and go back to his room and wait out the storm. The one inside his home and out.
Although, he halted in the doorway of the kitchen at the sight of his grown little brother leaning against the counter on his phone. He glanced up momentarily, his gaze carrying no discernible emotion, and looked back down.
Techno continued his approach, opening the fridge and searching for nothing special. The shouting was painfully audible in the kitchen, and Techno was beginning to get an inkling of why Wilbur was upset. Techno himself knew Tommy was arriving, he didn’t know much more than that, but he trusted Phil.
“Why’s Wilbur so fucking angry?” Tommy asked, his voice deeper than Techno remembered, but again, that was four years ago.
Techno picked an apple out of the fridge, closing the doors and turning to meet Tommy’s empty stare. “I don’t want to be here either but it’s not like i'm being a little pussy about it,” He spoke with no real care and that made Techno hesitate, because that didn’t sound like the brother that left all those years ago.
“He just didn’t know you were coming,” Techno said shortly and Tommy's eyes dropped back down to his phone the moment Techno gave him a response.
Techno continued to observe his brother, he was so much older. It made Techno a little sad. His hair was longer, sure it was still drying from the rain but it looked darker too. He only had one bag with him, which he was squeezing to his chest like he was afraid if he didn’t, it would disappear. There was a small tremble to his hands, the one on his phone and the one holding his bag, that wasn’t there before. But the most concerning thing was that Tommy’s clothes looked days old, not even that but he looked too small for them. Not that Techno was going to ask, because Tommy was already shooting daggers at him like he had gone too far with just looking at him.
“Whatever,” Techno sighed, “I’m going back upstairs,”
Tommy didn’t make any sign that he even heard Techno, and Techno didn’t really care. Yet if care could be confused with niceties, that’s what he was thinking when Techno added, “And welcome home Tommy,” before he headed up the stairs.
-
Home . Tommy would have laughed, but he was too tired. Too tired to do anything, but he wasn’t just going to go upstairs to try to find some spare bed to sleep in. He didn’t know how much had changed around here. He would wait for Phil to stop talking with Wilbur so Tommy could explain to him that he didn’t plan on staying.
He would actually prefer to leave as soon as fucking possible. If you told him that he would see his brothers again five weeks ago he would have laughed in your face. But as much as he didn’t expect that, he also didn’t expect his aunt to pass away in her sleep. His legal guardian protecting him from this train wreck Techno wanted to call his home.
Tommy didn’t do family, not his thing. He could practically take care of himself, I mean that’s what he’s been doing for the last 4 years anyway, not to mention the last 3 weeks.
Which reminded Tommy bitterly that he needed to shower. A shower and a good dinner.
A sudden door slam pulled Tommy from his thoughts, he looked down and his phone had finally died. Add a phone charger to that list.
Wilbur stormed into the kitchen, his eyes on fire but his body looked entirely calm. “You’re staying right?” Wilbur asked, but his voice was broken from all the screaming. The question seemed to be dripping with sympathy, with want. And quite frankly, Tommy had no idea what Wilbur wanted him to say, so he just answered honestly.
“No,” He provided, keeping his eyes level with Wilburs. Which he was nearly the same height as, finally, no more being taunted because he was smaller. Not that he would stay long enough for the brotherly bickering he once knew.
“Why not?” Wilbur demanded, and there his voice was.
Tommy opened his mouth but he was stricken with some sort of hesitation, something stopped him, and maybe it was just the lack of any answer in his mind. Or the lack of wanting to give an answer. Because he didn’t care. He doesn’t.
“You can’t just leave again,” Wilbur seethed now, “We’re your family!” Tommy had to take a breath to keep Wilbur’s frustration spreading to him, but he didn’t need to wait too long. He could hear Phil coming down the hallway. “I don’t understand,” He said breathlessly, painfully. Tommy just watched as he crumpled in front of him.
Tommy swallowed, Phil’s footsteps louder in his ears. “And I don’t expect you to,”
Wilbur’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth opened to bite back but Phil stopped him. “Wilbur,” He called, and his tranquility seemed to put out Wilbur’s fire like an ocean over a flame. “Can you let me talk to Tommy alone? I promise, later, all of your questions will be answered,”
Tommy watched as Wilbur rolled his eyes, but he relented, escaping up the stairs.
“Hey Tommy,” Phil smiled at him and if Tommy could move beyond hugging his bag he would have smiled back. He’s pretty sure he would explode into tears if he had to be here any longer, but at least he’s talking to the right person now. The right person who had the power to get him out of here.
“Hey,” Tommy greeted quietly.
“Do you want to sit down so we can talk? I know we talked briefly over the phone but I’d like to check in,” Phil explained, leading Tommy to the dining table. It was a little odd how this was like a business meeting of sorts, but Tommy was glad Phil wasn’t hugging him or pouring his everlasting care over him either. He just wants to get this over with.
He had forgotten about Phil’s little check in’s, the daily questions about your day, or just one on one conversations. He forgot about them. He didn’t miss them.
Tommy sat down, Phil nervously eyeing the bag in his hands. “Is that from your aunts?” He asked as he sat across from Tommy.
“Yeah,” Tommy nodded, his eyes fleeing to the cracks in the table. He just noticed that he sat down in the seat he always did at family dinners. “Just some things, everything else is still there,” Tommy finished.
“Okay, well we can schedule a time to go pick up a few more things if you want to,”
“No,” Tommy said quickly, “It’s fine,”
“Alright,” Phil consoled, his smile faltered for just a moment, “I wanted to offer my condolences, I know you and your aunt were very close,”
Tommy held tighter onto his bag.
“Know that I’m here for you, if you ever want to talk about that or anything else,” Phil explained easily, “Know that I love you,”
Tommy’s knuckles strained. He swallowed something thick in his throat. “I'm not staying,” Tommy announced, “I want–uh I want your help to assign me to a new guardian like you did last time,” Tommy spoke without looking at Phil, but he could feel the drop in the tension, the disappointment.
“Well,” Phil started but he paused, “Well you could always stay here, it’s no trouble–Actually we would be really happy if you stayed Tommy,”
“No,” Tommy tried to say as gently as he could, “I would like it if I didn’t…stay here,” Tommy had a difficult time getting his words out, his stomach was near crawling up his throat.
“Why not Toms?” Phil asked, the nickname was like nails on a chalkboard.
Tommy shook his head, ignoring the question. “What about uncle jack? He’s–” Tommy swallowed, he didn’t know why his heart was pounding so fucking loudly, “He’s nice, and he still lives around here right?” Tommy offered, he knew he wouldn’t come around here again if he went with Jack, and a part of him knew that was for the best.
The other part didn’t get to vote.
“I’m pretty sure he’s busy with school right now Tommy–”
What? “Okay, what about my cousin fundy? Or Hannah?”
“Tommy,”
Tommy only continued, panicking, “What about Eret? He’s out of school right? I think Eret is the best choice I mean–”
“Tommy, look at me,” Phil demanded, breaking Tommy’s stream of consciousness.
Tommy looked up, meeting the paternal gaze of his father. “You are my son,”
Tommy was going to puke. The only thing stopping him was his stupid hold on his stupid bag.
“I want you here, and If you don’t want to stay that's up to you but please just wait a few days. Take a shower and eat some actually substantial food, and maybe we can fix whatever keeps you from wanting to stay here,”
Phil didn’t understand, none of them understood. It couldn’t be fixed, he just wants out. Out, out out.
But it didn’t look like Phil was going to comply today. So he had to take the agreement, he could do it, survive a few days. The technical definition of few was three right? Three days. That's all.
“I’m going to go take a shower,” Tommy said flatly as he rose from the table.
Phil’s face lifted at that, “Good, your old room is still yours, no one touched it.” Tommy gave him a tight nod of thanks. Then he went up the stairs, just like his brother before him, and his other brother before him. Something about that alone left an overwrought feeling in his stomach.