Welcome Home, Little Thief (Dark SBI)

Chapter 9- Copeing

A/N

Yipee!! New chapter!! This one is a little on the shorter side, but we have Techno. So you must forgive me /lhj

also there are some important endnotes at the end of his chapter so i would recommend reading them!

enjoy <3 (no new tws)

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Tommy's first instinct was to run. To slam open the door he'd just come through and barrel through the hallways, all the way back to Wilbur, where he would be safe- until he reached the front door, breaking through the thin layer of glass separating him from his freedom.

But he wasn't an idiot. That would only be going straight from one threat to another, falling straight into the awaiting arms of Wilbur, no doubt ready to lock him away for another month in punishment. Or worse. He didn't even want to think of the possibilities.

But staying...

He would be dooming himself to be trapped with this second witch. The one that he somehow recognized within the blurred haze of his mind, hidden behind blocks to protect him from the pain. The one that seemed entirely too relaxed, almost as though he expected Tommy to stumble inside.

The one that could be all the more dangerous.

Oh, shit. He knew. Tommy had snapped at Wilbur, and this man had only been waiting for him to stumble inside. Waiting, planning, to seize the opportunity to punish him for such rash behavior, to use his painfully obvious weaknesses against him. Just like his father had done.

It didn't matter that this witch looked harmless. It didn't matter that he simply raised his eyebrow at Tommy's entrance, not even moving for any...weapon of any kind. No flicker or tug of his blue aura, tinged with swirls of pale orange, as he leaned back in his seat, head resting lazily on his fist. There were no signs of aggression in his apathetic boredom, only a faint curiosity. As though he truly didn't intend to harm Tommy.

But the witchling knew better by now. Trusting any of these lunatics, no matter how normal they appeared, was the same as dooming himself to be manipulated for their own enjoyment.

Even if the witch in question wore reading glasses.

Tommy took in a sharp breath, hand instinctively rising to clutch the doorknob. Half of him expected for Wilbur to abruptly slam into the door, forcing it open and sealing his dark fate. The other half was bracing for the man in front of him to attack, to force Tommy to surrender and face the consequences of his weak rebellion head-on. Either option seemed fucked, and personally, Tommy wasn't particularly his mind's problem-solving abilities.

Unless he attacked first.

His grip tightened around the doorknob as the witch silently scrutinized him, no doubt taking in the fact that he was wearing Wilbur's clothes, the panic whirling in his eyes, the stutter of his breaths as he forced down a panic attack. The way his gaze flickered back and forth, taking in the books lining the walls and searching for anything he could use to his advantage or, if things got dire, places to hide.

He stumbled a step forward, pushing shut the lock on the door behind him. His other hand fumbled around before it landed on a particularly heavy book, spine worn and fragile, but large enough to cause damage. Tommy didn't hesitate to grab it from the display stand and clutch it tightly against his chest.

Wilbur was someone he wouldn't–couldn't– face right now.

But here he had an advantage.

He had a fighting chance.