'i don't have anywhere else to go.' - a sleepy boys inc story

quatre

Tommy's flinch at the brothers' raising voices goes unnoticed as the brunette stands up, pushing his chair back with a loud creak against the floor. You're fine. You're safe. They're not going to hurt you.

"No." Tommy's murmur goes unnoticed as Techno and Wilbur exchange tense words, the former's voice defensive and angry, the latter's stressed and accusative. The polished brown floorboards underneath his feet beckon fragments of a flashback to begin to surface and his eyesight blurs, black coming in from the corners of his vision. They're cold.

So cold. The concrete is hard against his thighs, dark purple bruises littering the pale skin. It's cold, and dark. He doesn't know how long he's been down here. He last streamed, last talked to his friends...maybe 3 days ago? He hasn't eaten since. He's hungry, he's cold. He just wants to go home.

Home?

Where is home? Certainly not here. But they're my parents. They're supposed to be home.

I just want to go- away from here. If I was braver, I would run away. But I'm useless, I'm a fucking coward, why else would they say that? Why else would they treat me like this?

This isn't okay, is it? I don't think- this isn't normal. But- no. It's not normally like this. This is one of their bad phases. They're worse than normal right now. But it'll pass, right? It'll get better. Right?

"BOYS. QUIET."

He suddenly becomes aware of a warm hand on his shoulder and looks up through blurry vision and wet eyes - when did I start crying? - and sees two concerned faces staring at him, scanning his face anxiously. He sees Wilbur sitting down behind the pair of them, silent and shocked tears running down his face.

He feels his blood pressure dropping and speaks up. TV static overlays his vision, fading in to darken his eyesight. His voice comes out in a whisper, hoarse and faint.

"I-I'm, um. I don't think I'm feeling too great, Phil." His head rolls back and he squeezes his eyes shut tightly.

When he opens them, there's the feel of the wind on his face and long grass brushes his calves softly, left bare by his beige shorts.

The first thing that hits him is the absence of pain. His bruises, gone. The ache in his bones that is constantly there, gone. It's nice here. Maybe I should stay here. Where is here?

After a second of gazing around at his surroundings, he realises he's standing up- when did I do that? I was just sitting down- and the sun is bright, brighter than he's ever seen it before. In the distance, he can see a short figure, shadowed by the willow trees lining the overgrown plain of green he's standing on.

Flooded with curiosity, he squints as he slowly walks to the edge of the unkempt meadow, scrunching his face in an effort to make his vision clearer. He manages to make out that the person is male, or has short hair at least, and is young, at least under the age of 13.

"Hello?" He calls out to the young figure cautiously, his voice coming out high and squeaky, an old trait of his prepubescent, immature self. His voice causes them to turn around and give him a look at their face. He's taken aback at the sight of Tubbo. But this Tubbo is young. Really young, maybe...10? 12 at the most.

"Toby?" There it is again. That high-pitched voice that hasn't spoken in years, logic is calling out to him in confusion.

Tubbo's face lights up with a smile Tommy hasn't seen in years, a young, small-framed face from sweet, happy memories so many years ago. "Hi, Tommy! How are you?"

"I'm- I'm good, I think?"

He reaches an arm out to the boy in front of him, his fingertips slowly falling to rest on the soft flannel sleeve of the green shirt on this memory of his friend. It...it feels real, at least.

He feels two arms wrap around his middle and he lifts his arms to return the hug Tubbo has embraced him with. The familiarity of his best friend's arms around his torso brings a blanket of warmth and serenity over the boy.

After what seems like hours, they pull away, and Tommy has his hands resting calmly on his friend's shoulders, his blue eyes scanning the brunet's face carefully.

This feels real, this seems real, but how am I this young? How are we both this young? We're 16, we're teenagers, we're almost adults, how is this possible? "What?"

He realises he's been staring. "Nothing."

A giggle bubbles up from the bottom of Tubbo's throat as he insists, "No, what, you're looking at me weird."

The happy laughter paints a smile on both the young boys' faces as Tommy formulates a reply. "Oh, I dunno. I guess- I dunno. It's good to see you."

Intense calm is still lingering from the warm embrace of an old friend, happy memories surfacing of years of love, and comfort, and late nights, staying up to talk to each other in a tired Discord call, and joking quips about height and accents.

Raising his arms from his friend's shoulders, he lifts his hands to cup his face, closing his eyes as he presses his lips to Tubbo's forehead in a familiar tradition.

"I love you, y'know?"

The smile is audible in the brunette's reply. "Yeah. I love you too."

Pulling his friend back into a hug, he laughs softly as he jokes, "You're so clingy, Toby."

929 words