They Rely On Hope. What Do I Rely On? - Tommyinnit Adoption AU

Chapter 3

TW: Mention of blood, abuse, su!cide, death

As Dream had demanded, Tommy cooked dinner, and had it ready by 6. Despite only being 13, Tommy was a good cook. Many houses had forced him to cook for them, and many had also given him a time limit. He knew how to do everything he could to minimise the beatings, and housework was a big part of that. Make people happy, you deal with less beatings, it was that easy. Well- not easy, but it was better than nothing.

Dream had spent the entire time they were eating complaining about the food, but he didn't hurt Tommy, and that was all that mattered. After they were done, Tommy silently cleaned the kitchen and returned to his room where he curled up to sleep. He didn't have study yet and he was still recovering from the last house's sleep deprivation. At least this time he let himself sleep. Often if a house stopped him doing something, he couldn't force himself to do that thing for months afterwards, even years sometimes. He still didn't ask questions and that was something that had been drilled into him in one of the first houses, from when he and Tubbo had been 5. He still rarely screamed, hating himself when he did. That was from when he was 8.

Tonight, however, Tommy wasn't as lucky as he had been in Puffy's car. He supposed it had something to do with not having Puffy's protectiveness to keep him safe. Tonight his sleep was plagued with nightmares.

Tommy let himself inside, coming home from school. Tubbo wasn't with him, he hadn't been feeling well that morning so he had stayed home. Tommy hadn't wanted to leave his brother, but his foster parents had forced him to. These ones hit him when he didn't obey, and Tommy knew they were only letting Tubbo stay home because the 8 year old was vomiting everywhere.

The house was quiet, but that wasn't unusual. His older foster siblings were still at school doing some after school club, and his foster parents were probably working in their offices. So, Tommy stepped through the house, heading up to find his brother, hoping to disperse the silence by talking to Tubbo.

Tubbo wasn't in his room. He wasn't in Tommy's room either. Tommy headed into the bathroom and found Tubbo asleep next to the toilet.

"Tubbo, you can't sleep there, you'll get a sore neck," Tommy grumbled, attempting to wake his brother. Tubbo would sleep in weird places, and he always got a sore neck from the weird positions. Tubbo didn't stir, so Tommy moved over to him, shaking him to try to wake him up.

That's when Tommy screamed.

His brother was as cold as the tiles beneath Tommy's feet.

He frantically rolled his brother over, attempting to shake him awake, but the boy remained unmoving.

That was when Tommy saw his brother's sky blue eyes. They were open, but Tommy knew his brother wasn't seeing anything.

Tommy's screams increased and he gripped his brother's hand. That was when he found the small piece of paper that looked to have been ripped off a larger one. It had words scrawled out in his brother's messy hand writing.

"Don't follow me. Live for me. I love you."

Tommy's screams just got louder and louder, and soon the bathroom door was flying open, his foster parents screaming at him to shut up.

That was when they saw Tubbo.

Tommy's foster father pulled him away, punching him in the face for screaming, still yelling for him to shut up, and finally Tommy obeyed. Terrified tears were falling down Tommy's face as he heard his foster mother call the hospital, but his father pulled him out of it. He yelled at Tommy for being so weak as to cry, and then he had beaten Tommy. It had been heartache over the top of physical pain. It had hurt like hell. Tommy had forced himself not to scream or cry, simply taking it.

The beating had gone on for- Tommy didn't know how long, but the relief came witha knock at the door. The paramedics were here, and Tommy's parents had to keep up appearances. Of course, Tommy now had a broken nose and the beginnings of many bruises from the beatings, but they'd claim he got in a fight on the way home from school.

Tommy's foster father pretended to be looking after Tommy's wounds, while the paramedics rushed upstairs and into the bathroom Tubbo was in.

Not too much later, one of the paramedics noticed Tommy's injuries and they brought him outside to take him to the hospital. Tommy saw Tubbo's body on a stretcher, but his brother's face was covered with a sheet, and Tommy knew what that meant. That was what his parents had been like when they had died.

That was when the screaming started again.

Tommy screamed, his eyes opening onto a roof that was not the ambulance. A roof he did not know, and the screaming got louder for a second, before he realised where he was. He slammed his hands over his mouth, rolling over to face his head into the pillow, trying to stop his uncontrollable screaming. Tears streaked his face as he fought for quiet. The screams kept coming until there was a hand on his throat, dragging him out of the bed and slamming him against the wall.

"SHUT UP!" Dream yelled over the noise Tommy was making. He squeezed Tommy's throat until the boy couldn't breathe and the screams could no longer come. Then he spoke once more, deadly venom filling his voice, "I will kill you if you scream like this ever again. You will never scream again. You here me?"

Tommy nodded his head as much as he could through Dreams death grip on his neck.

"ANSWER ME WHEN I SPEAK TO YOU!"

"Yes sir," Tommy chocked out through the tears and pain.

"Don't cry. Stop fucking crying. You're not a fucking 2 year old!"

Tommy squeezed his eyes closed, trying to stop the tears, but all he could think of was Tubbo. Tubbo and the scribbled note telling Tommy not to die. Tubbo, his brother. Tubbo, the only reason Tommy was still alive, even all these tears after his death. Tubbo, the boy who was once so happy and carefree. Tubbo, his brother who had killed himself when the pain had gotten to much, a luxury Tommy could never let himself have.

"If you don't stop crying, I'll give you something to cry about," Dream warned. Tommy tried to stop, but it was too much, and so Dream did as he said.

Tommy had been beaten to within an inch of his life many times before, and Dream hadn't gone that far. He had left after an hour of treating Tommy like a punching bag, leaving him sprawled on the floor, blood spilling down his face.

While Dream had hit him, Tommy had listened to the clock, tick, tick, ticking away. He had dragged his mind away from his body and the pain and the memories, and he had focused on the clock. He had let it ground him as agony filled every fibre of him.

So now Tommy lay on the floor, the last words Dream had said still ringing in his ears. "You have an hour until you have to get up." Tommy would make sure he met that time, so he lay, leaning against the bed, listening to the clock ticking away. At least he had slept early, he had gotten an ok amount of sleep. It was much more then what he was used to from the last house at least.

Half an hour passed and Tommy pulled himself up. He moved to the bathroom and stood numbly in the shower as he washed the blood away. After it was all gone, he got out and got changed into his new clothes. Looking in the mirror, he was grateful to see there was no broken nose. He found the box of bandaids in the first aid kit Puffy had given him and covered the still bleeding injuries. Then he silently walked downstairs, ignoring the absolute agony he felt with every step.

He found the list of chores and began working. Two hours later he was finally finished. He then headed back up to his room, organising the school stuff Dream had left on his desk, notebooks for each class, stationary, and such. Once that was all in his backpack, he walked back downstairs and grabbed the apple Dream had marked as his. He wondered if the school would give him lunch or if he would go hungry. He could survive on one meal a day if that's what it came down to.

Once he was ready, he left, silently finding his way to the school. Dream had told him last night that everything was organised with the school and he just had to go to his classes.

Words: 1500