Receeding Tides (mcyt)

Chapter 18

Tommy was stuck inside his head. He didn't know where in his head but he was comfortable. In a dark void where he couldn't even stand? Somehow, he wasn't panicked or terrified. He felt himself falling and awoke laying on a cot that looked and felt like it was from a long-since abandoned, 19th century asylum.

Shit, was he in an asylum? Tommy could've sworn he was sane or at least good at faking it. By now, everyone was a little crazy. It was better than sitting in piles of untouched memories. Tommy hoped he wasn't being held captive to be friends with a psychotic toddler. He had pretty egregious injuries from that girl, so maybe the man and woman from before brought him here for a surgery? His eyes bounced around the room slowly adjusting to being upright. Hoping no one had touched him, Tommy looked under the thin sheet on top of him.

Instead of skin, he saw the majority of his torso wrapped in gauze. Fresh and unstained. His bloodied bandanna laid beside him leaving a slight stain on the sheet, and his torn shirt had been washed and left neatly folded next to the cot. Tommy shivered throwing off the blanket and reached for the clothes.

He slung his legs over the bed and winced. Even just breathing made his ribs hurt. Tommy clutched his bandaged torso as if it would help the pain. He pulled his iconic t-shirt over his head accidentally poking a few fingers through the holes. Counting the tears in his shirt, Tommy made his way to the door. Opening it, he entered a large room filled with dozens of people of all ethnicity, ages, and genders. Too many people. No one cared about the door opening, but Tommy immediately wanted to shut the door.

Families sat huddled together in corners. Shivering yet laughing. They had nothing but each other for warmth. Despite several language barriers, a circle of children played princess tea party with their tiny hands for cups. A little boy flicked water at his sister who snapped at him as he laughed. At the sound of the door clicking shut though, the voices shut off, and all eyes turned to him. Tommy fell back on an out-of-use TommyInnit.

"What is up, chat?"

The confused silence only empowered the sound of a chair scraping across the concrete ground, and people shouted angry protests as someone shoved them aside. Before Tommy could even think of what was happening, he found himself on the ground kneeling and surrounded by the warmest, most unforgettable, somehow frigid arms he'd ever encountered.

"Holy shit..." the arms murmured, "You're..."

Tommy couldn't find the right words, and tufts of mangled, dirt-coated hair and the stench of British must nearly suffocated him. He felt tears drip through the holes in his shirt seeping onto the bandages. Years of distanced brotherhood, hundreds of sleepless nights, and countless hours of contagious laughter flooded Tommy's memory giving strength to sobs of his own. The one man Tommy spent years missing knelt right in front of him. Hell, he was holding Tommy right now. In real life. After almost three long-ass years, he couldn't fathom letting go.

Every terror and anxious thought and fear disappeared from his thoughts, and Tommy felt every weighted worry lift from his shoulders. Tommy sighed laughing and welcomed this unfamiliar euphoria with open arms. Smiling, he gripped Wilbur's cotton shirt tight enough to turn his knuckles white and leave little crescents in the palms of his hands. Tommy buried his face into the fabric murmuring almost incoherently.

"Wilby..."

Wilbur held the back of the boy's head pressed into his shoulder rocking back and forth in disbelief. There were dozens of people he'd never see again. Many of whom were closer to him than Tommy. Still, the sense of light relief that flowed through him was exhilarating.

"Oh my God, Tommy..."

Tommy quickly snapped out of his own euphoric relief pushing a still-stunned Wilbur away.