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

vingt-six

hey so this chapter... is a lot, it goes into a fair bit of detail about tommy's parents and the things they did - this is just a fair warning

also a tw for death im sorry

A warm, encompassing massage of water drums down on Wilbur's back. He sighs. Turning the knob, the water shudders off with a squeak. He misses Tommy.

The fucking police, with their fucking paperwork. They'd basically said, "Hey, sorry, we can't even try to look for your friend who's missing and probably kidnapped before we finish all this paperwork because that's more important than saving this kid's life." Most of the paperwork was because Tommy's a minor, and neither Phil, Wilbur, Techno nor Dream are his guardians. He's technically with his parents, so we have to work that out with our lawyers before we can actually do anything, he remembers the high-pitched, nasal, thick Geordie accent of the lady over the phone saying. In retrospect, it's fair, they can't do anything if the law prevents them, they are the police. At the time, he'd almost punched another clock. He probably would've, if there had been one in punching proximity. He'd thanked her through gritted teeth then gone upstairs to have a shower, at Phil's suggestion.

He grabs a towel and wraps it around himself momentarily before raising it to his head and drying his hair, fluffing it up as much as possible. When he looks up from under his damp hair, he sees a pained man. He really misses Tommy.

---

He doesn't know how long he's been in the dark. The pain goes away when he's asleep, so he sleeps a lot now. Time melds into itself. At first, he cried. He had cried a lot. He had sobbed, begging to be let out.

He didn't know what he expected. They'd soundproofed the basement years ago, and had stopped coming when he called even earlier than that.

He hopes his friends will help him.

---

Once getting to Tommy's parent's house, the group had decided to split up. The Americans were trusted to deal with the boy's parents while the Brits' task was to actually find him.

Phil warily turns the cold metal knob, finding the door's path blocked by... he doesn't know what exactly. Shuffling the door open, even though it's dim, he can still make out the empty bottles of alcohol that litter the floor, and the dark red stains which are so frequent it's almost impossible to tell what the original colour of the carpet is.

He flicks the light switch to no avail. He steps forward and hears a crunch of glass beneath his shoes - different glass, thinner. Light bulb glass. Phil wonders how long ago the glass shattered - days, weeks, months - for some reason, neither of Tommy's parents seem like the vacuuming type.

---

They- there was this... basement.

Who's betting he's there?

Wilbur feels around blindly for a light switch until he hears a click, and after a delay, the small lightbulb flickers on, dimly illuminating the silver metal door to the stairs leading down to the basement in a yellow glow. He attempts to turn the lock and finds it not budging. His eyes dart around and spot a glimmer of silver on a shelf nearby. The ring of keys jangles, followed by a methodical, mechanical thumping coming from inside the door.

The yellow light dies out right near the end of the staircase, where Wilbur can see another light switch.

Ominous, Wilbur thought.