SBI - His Curse of Binding

21

It turned out that crying himself to sleep at the ripe time of midnight had severe consequences on Tommy's appearance.

As he peered into the bathroom mirror, an exhausted boy with bloodshot eyes and a red nose stared back. There were multiple other things wrong with him; whenever he attempted to smile, it never reached his eyes, which housed a dull blue. To put it simply, he looked as pathetic as he felt.

He tightened the green bandana around his neck and secured the latch on the Ranboo locket, preparing himself for breakfast before school started.

It was going to be awkward. He had pissed off and snapped at two of the three other members of this household. He one-hundred percent deserved to be beaten to shit by Phil—even though the man would never raise a hand to a child, especially his own.

"I love you like you're my own son—"

He tugged at his hair. He had yearned for that adoration, that expression of unconditional love, for years, centuries even. In every single life, he had attempted and failed to fill his desire for a father, for someone to show him how a dad should act, as his first life instead displayed the opposite. He wanted to know what it meant to have a father figure that didn't neglect and kill the only person that stepped up to make sure he didn't die of hypothermia in the cold, winter nights and kissed him on the forehead before sleep took him.

And he finally found that person. He found Phil.

Yet now that he had him, he didn't know what to do. The tattoo on his wrist did nothing but serve as a cruel reminder that in a matter of days, he would lose the same person he had searched centuries for.

It hurt. Stung more than it should.

As he packed his bag, he put Henry inside as well. He needed a comfort item with him today. He walked down the stairs slowly, dreading every step. He turned the corner and all three of them sat already at the table. Techno was the only one who seemed happy to see him.

"And the dramatic prick has woken up," Wilbur greeted, his tone wasn't as light-hearted as it normally was when the two made fun of each other. It was harsher, too real. "Are you done with your temper tantrum or can I finish my bacon?"

"So you're the only one allowed to be an immature little bitch and cry over your problems?" Tommy snapped, mimicking Wilbur's tone, though with more edge.

"I wouldn't call you unnecessarily shouting at Dad 'crying over your problems'," Wilbur hissed.

"Have you suddenly forgotten that time you yelled at him in the garden after he was worried for your mental health? Because I sure haven't," Tommy quipped back.

Wilbur glared at him. But didn't say anything back. He shrugged, his shoulders tense, and stabbed his bacon with his knife.

Tommy's fists clenched under the table, his heart pounded. As much as he was prepared to turn a new leaf during this breakfast, if this was how Wilbur was acting, then the fucker deserved to be shouted at a bit more.

Cutlery scratching against the plates echoed the living room.

Techno cleared his throat, interrupting the tense silence. "How was London?"

"I stole a shopping cart and got banned for life from a tourist attraction," Tommy replied, his eyes still glued on Wilbur, who was practically seething as he stuffed his English breakdown into his mouth.

"I didn't expect anything less," Techno said. He sounded too casual after witnessing the little bitch-fest between him and Wilbur, but Techno always prided himself on being unbothered by everything. Surprisingly, the man's nonchalance made Tommy calmer. "Did you get any more tattoos then?"