Chapter Text
March 12th, 2018
Friend Request Received from Wilbur Soot.
You are now friends with Wilbur Soot.
March 13th, 2018
(11:23 am) Wilbur: Hey Tommy, I don’t know if you remember me, but it’s Wilbur, Phil’s kid. We haven’t seen each other in a few years, but I just saw you got a Facebook and wanted to say hi and see how you’re doing
(4:07 pm) Tommy: i was 10 the last time we saw each other wil, not a toddler
(4:07 pm) Tommy: ofc I remember you
(4:15 pm) Wilbur: Lol ok that’s good to know
(4:16 pm) Wilbur: How old are you now? 12?
(4:17 pm) Tommy: im 13
(4:17 pm) Tommy: but i’m turning 14 next month
(4:19 pm) Wilbur: Oh shit! Happy early birthday, man!
(4:19 pm) Wilbur: You gonna do anything fun for it?
(4:20 pm) Tommy: idk probbly not
(4:20 pm) Tommy: mum will probably just get me a cake or smth
(4:21 pm) Wilbur: Oh
(4:21 pm) Wilbur: How’s your mum doing btw?? It’s been so long since I’ve seen either of you guys
(4:23 pm) Tommy: she’s fine
(4:24 pm) Wilbur: That’s good
(4:28 pm) Wilbur: Look you can totally say no to this but
(4:28 pm) Wilbur: Would you wanna have a call and catch up sometime??? I wanna know how you’re doing with school and all that
(4:31 pm) Tommy: sure id be down
(4:33 pm) Wilbur: When are you usually available?
(4:34 pm) Tommy: school lets out at 3:30 so anytime after that i guess
(4:36 pm) Wilbur: Hm okay
(4:36 pm) Wilbur: I just got a new job so my schedule is a little bit of a mess rn
(4:37 pm) Wilbur: I can lyk soon when I’d be good to call though if that works???
(4:38 pm) Tommy: yeah that’s fine just lmk
(4:41 pm) Wilbur: Cool
(4:41 pm) Wilbur: Shit a customer just came in so i gtg
(4:41 pm) Wilbur: I’ll text you soon
(4:43 pm) Tommy: k
March 20th, 2018
(7:01 pm) Tommy: hey wil
(7:01 pm) Tommy: you still wanna call sometime??
April 2nd, 2018
(9:24 pm) Tommy: wil?
May 24th, 2020
(12:01 am) Wilbur: Hey Tommy I know I kinda dropped the ball the last time we talked, I just got super busy with work stuff and stuff slipped my mind, totally nothing against you. I heard the news though and I wanted to reach out and see if you’re doing alright. Again, we haven’t really talked properly in a long time, but I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, so just letting you know I’m here for you if you ever wanna talk or anything. I hope you’re taking care of yourself.
April 9th, 2022
(10:32 am) Wilbur: Hey man, I wanted to say happy birthday! You’re 18 now which is insane, feels like just yesterday you were this hyper ten year old running around my legs lol. You don’t have to respond to this if you don’t want to, but I wanted to reach out and let you know that even though it’s been over 8 years since we saw each other, if you ever need anything you can always reach out. I kind of hate that just because your mum and my dad didn’t really work out we lost contact with each other, but there’s not much we can do about it now. Either way though, I’m still here if you ever wanna reconnect. If there’s anything you ever need, like if you’re in a tight spot or you need a place to stay or something, don’t feel bad about hitting me up.
April 11th, 2022
(12:23 am) Tommy: do you mean that?
(1:06 am) Wilbur: Yeah I do
(1:09 am) Tommy: even the part about having a place to stay?
(1:14 am) Wilbur: Yes
↻
June 21st, 2022
The train station was small.
That was Tommy’s first thought as the train pulled to a stop, a harsh screech echoing through the air that made him wince even inside the train car itself. Outside the window, a concrete platform was littered with a small crowd of people waiting either to get on the train or to pick up someone getting off.
The car he was in was practically empty, most of the other passengers having disembarked several stops earlier at one of the bigger cities they passed through. Tommy watched an older woman get to her feet, her cane squeaking against the dingy carpet as she made her way over to the exit doors.
On the platform outside, Tommy tried to see if he could spot him. He searched for a head of curly brown hair, but the crowd was moving now as people loaded onto the train, and Tommy knew he had to hurry and get off before he got stuck going back the way he came.
Giving up on his search, Tommy pushed to his feet and grabbed his suitcase from the overhead compartment. He grunted at the weight, glad that no one was around to witness him struggle to lift his own suitcase above his head.
He followed the old woman to stand in front of the train doors. With a soft whoosh, they slid open, and Tommy carefully picked his way off the train and onto the platform itself.
Hot summer air blasted him in the face the same way opening an oven door blasted you with heat. It was a stark contrast to the air-conditioned interior of the train, and sweat immediately pricked up on the back of his neck as he tugged on the collar of his sweatshirt. His suitcase rattled under his hand as he rolled the wheels over the divider from the train to the platform, sending vibrations up his arms and making his teeth rattle.
People pushed past him, trying to get on the train before it departed again. Tommy was taller than the majority of the patrons on the platform, but he still found himself lifting onto his tiptoes to try and see where his ride was.
From his pocket, Tommy pulled out a crumpled up picture. Two boys stood under a flower trellis archway, with the older of the two holding the younger one on his hip even though he was far too old to be held like that. Tommy had been ten in the picture, his arms wrapped around Wilbur’s neck in a half hug, sending a wide, toothy grin to the camera with his eyes half-hidden by the beanie Wilbur had shoved on his head. On his right, Wilbur was smiling as well, although it was much more tight-lipped than Tommy’s smile was.
Unlike Tommy, Wilbur had known full well what the picture had meant at the time. His smile was forced, and there was a hint of guilt in his dark eyes. Because when that picture had been taken, only one of them had known it was the last picture they’d take together, and it certainly hadn’t been Tommy.
Tommy stared at the frizzy brown curls that fell over Wilbur’s forehead and the slant of his upturned nose. Even though Wilbur had a few more updated pictures on Facebook, none of them were very clear, so all Tommy could hope was that Wilbur’s face hadn’t changed much since he was seventeen.
He folded the picture again and shoved it back in his pocket. The crowd had lessened now, and right as the train let out a billowing screech to tell the people on the platform that it was leaving soon, Tommy finally spotted him.
Near the back of the platform, Wilbur was hunched over, staring at his phone. His hair was a bit shorter than it was in the old picture of the two of them, and his cheeks seemed to have thinned out some, but otherwise he really didn’t seem all that different. He was wearing a brown sweater with a white collared shirt underneath despite the heat, and Tommy noticed he had gold-rimmed glasses perched on the edge of his nose.
Huh. The glasses were new.
Tommy’s footsteps were drowned out by his heart pounding in his ears. This was it. He hadn’t seen Wilbur in eight years, yet here he was, coming to live with him for the foreseeable future.
All he could do was hope that he wasn’t making some horrible mistake.
When Tommy was only a few feet away from Wilbur, he spoke up.
“Wilbur?”
Head snapping up from his phone, Wilbur’s dark eyes found his own, and there was a brief moment where Tommy could tell Wilbur had no clue who the hell he was.
And then another second passed, and recognition washed over his face.
“Tommy?” he asked, uncertainty betraying his tone.
Tommy nodded, and Wilbur beamed.
“Holy shit, man! It’s you!” He pocketed his phone, and before Tommy could register what he was doing, Wilbur was pulling him into a hug. Tommy awkwardly hugged him back, noticing that despite his growth spurt, Wilbur was still several inches taller than he was.
The hug only lasted a few seconds, with Wilbur pulling away and taking a step back to get a better look at him. “You got taller,” he said after a few moments, still smiling at him.
Tommy resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “That’s what happens when you go through puberty, dipshit.”
Thankfully, Wilbur didn’t seem offended by his insult, and just laughed it off. “Fair enough. But in my defense, I haven’t actually seen you since you were a little kid.”
“And I haven’t seen you since you were my age, but you still look the same,” Tommy teased.
At this, Wilbur groaned. “Don’t remind me, I get enough shit at bars for my baby face already.”
“How old are you now anyway?”
“Twenty-five, but I’m turning twenty-six in a few months,” Wilbur said, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Tommy scrunched up his nose. “Damn, mid-twenties already? How’s it feel to be that ancient?”
“Terrible. Every day I wake up with some new ache in my body I’ve never felt before,” Wilbur deadpanned, turning on his heel towards the stairs. “Let’s get going so we don’t get stuck in a traffic jam on the way out of the parking lot.”
Picking up his suitcase again, Tommy hurried to follow Wilbur down the steps. The crowd had already dispersed for the most part, meaning they definitely weren’t going to beat out the bottleneck when it came to leaving the parking lot, but the place wasn’t that busy anyway so it didn’t seem like the end of the world.
Wilbur led Tommy to his car—a rather plain-looking silver sedan parked surprisingly close to the stairs. After popping the trunk, Wilbur helped Tommy shove his suitcase inside, and soon Tommy found himself sitting in the passenger’s seat as they pulled out onto the road.
“So,” Wilbur began as they made a left at an intersection, “how was the train ride down here?”
Tommy shrugged, eyeing the empty water bottles Wilbur had scattered around the passenger seat floor. The air conditioner had been turned up high, and the sweat on the back of his neck was already dissipating as the cool air was blasted into his face. “It was fine. Nothing special or anything.”
“Have you taken the train before?”
“Uh, once. But it was going up north instead of down south, so it was a bit different,” Tommy explained, tapping his fingers along the center console.
Wilbur hummed, slowing the car to a stop at a red light. “You just graduated, right?”
“Yeah, had my last day of school about a week ago.”
“Glad to be done?”
Snorting, Tommy nodded. “You bet I am.”
“I get that. I hated high school. Felt like it was a complete waste of my time,” Wilbur said, pressing on the gas when the light changed. “By the way, you said you’ve been living with your uncle, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know about…” Wilbur trailed off, gesturing vaguely to himself.
“He knows I’m coming to live with you, yeah,” Tommy answered, slumping back in his seat. “He’s a bit worried that I’m leaving so soon after graduating, but the fact that I know you and you’re not just some random stranger I found on the internet to room with makes him feel a bit better.”
“I’m still surprised he’s letting you just leave like that. If I’d told Phil I wanted to move out at eighteen- well, actually, Phil’s fucking weird so he probably would’ve encouraged me to take some wild adventure like living on my own at that age, but most parents wouldn’t think the same.”
“Well, Sam’s not my parent,” Tommy corrected, turning to look out the window.
Outside the car, squat brown hills lined the horizon. In the pale blue sky, Tommy could make out the faint outline of the moon, even though there were still a few hours before sunset.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Wilbur wince. “Of course he’s not. Sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“You’re fine,” Tommy said, cutting him off. “I’m just saying he’s my uncle, not my dad, so it’s different.”
Wilbur didn’t seem to know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent. The car rumbled along, faint music echoing out from the stereo that had been turned down low. On the touchscreen for the carplay, Tommy could see some Dayglow song playing, and debated if he should turn it up or wait for Wilbur to do it first.
If he turned up the music, that was a signal that the conversation was over. Already, the stiffness of talking to someone you hadn’t seen in eight years was weighing on both of them, and Tommy knew that admitting defeat so early was a horrible sign for things to come. But at the same time, the silence stretching out between them was like a rubber band being pulled taut. The tension was growing, and sooner or later, the rubber band was going to break.
Then, with miraculous timing, Wilbur spoke up again.
“Do you want some food?” He asked, pointing to a McDonald’s down the road. “I really need to go grocery shopping, so there’s basically nothing to eat at my place right now.”
Tommy nodded, having been ignoring the gnawing in his stomach over the course of the entire train ride to avoid buying the overpriced snacks on it. “Yes please.”
Flicking on his turn signal, Wilbur pulled into the McDonald’s drive-thru. Tommy gave Wilbur his order, and Wilbur ordered for both of them at the speaker. When the cashier gave their total, Tommy immediately took out his phone to write it down.
As soon as Wilbur handed Tommy his bag of food, he asked, “What’s your venmo so I can pay you for this?”
Taking his burger out of his own bag as they drove away from the drive-thru, Wilbur shook his head. “Nah, I got this.”
Tommy frowned. “I have money.”
“So do I. And I can afford to buy you some McDonald’s after not seeing you for nearly a decade,” Wilbur huffed, shoving a fry in his mouth.
Although Tommy wanted to argue, he had a feeling he wouldn’t win this one. So he slumped further down in his seat, taking a petulant bite of his chicken nugget as they pulled back onto the main road.
Soon, they were driving into a small housing complex. One-story homes that all looked relatively identical to one another lined the road, and Tommy raised an eyebrow the further into the neighborhood they drove. Of all the places he had expected Wilbur to live, it wasn’t somewhere like this.
Eventually, Wilbur slowed the car down as they neared another plain, indistinguishable one-story house. He pulled into the driveway, but didn’t open the garage, instead choosing to leave the car outside.
“We’re here,” Wilbur said, already climbing out of the car.
Tommy unbuckled his seatbelt before getting out as well. He grabbed his McDonald’s bag, having only gotten halfway through his food, and was careful not to slam the car door shut behind him as he watched Wilbur pop open the trunk.
Handing Wilbur the McDonald’s bag, Tommy grunted as he hoisted his suitcase out of the trunk. Then, Wilbur locked the car doors with a click, and led Tommy to the front door.
There was a small porch shading the front of the house. Like the rest of the exterior, the porch was completely plain, save for a single rocking chair that looked like it was ready to fall apart at the slightest touch.
A loud rattling made Tommy turn back to Wilbur as he struggled to find his key. He unlocked the door, muttering a curse under his breath, and held the door open for Tommy to bring his suitcase inside.
Once inside, Tommy realized that the house was more reminiscent of a condo than a full house. The wood floors looked brand new and almost plastic-like, the walls were undecorated and painted a dull shade of grey, and as the foyer opened up into the attached kitchen and living room, Tommy felt like he was looking at a magazine page trying to give an example of ‘modern minimalism’.
In the living room, Tommy noticed a stack of cardboard boxes shoved against the wall. They had the name of a moving company on them, and Tommy realized the reason the house was so drab was because it seemed like Wilbur had just moved in.
“How long ago did you move here?” Tommy asked as Wilbur led him through the kitchen and down a narrow hallway.
“About a year ago.”
Tommy frowned. “And you haven’t unpacked those boxes in the living room?”
Snorting, Wilbur stopped in front of a plain white door, and gave Tommy a look that said well, duh. “I’m pretty bad about unpacking my shit. You’ll see right now.”
Then, before Tommy could ask what he meant by that, Wilbur pushed open the door he was standing in front of revealing what Tommy guessed was supposed to be his room.
The room itself wasn’t bad. Beige carpet and a decent-sized double bed dominated the space, with a large window on the wall letting sunlight spill onto the white sheets. In one corner, there was a small dresser with an old CD stereo sitting on top. The rest of the corners were taken up by more cardboard boxes.
“Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’. I meant to unpack this shit before you got here but… well, I just didn’t get around to it,” Wilbur shrugged, giving Tommy a sheepish look. “I’ll take care of it soon enough, but just try to work around them for the time being. If you don’t have enough room to put your stuff, let me know and I can move some of them into the living room.”
Tommy nodded, lifting his suitcase to drop it on the bed. “Are there any, uh, house rules or whatever I should know about?”
Wilbur paused, blinking a few times before furrowing his brows. “The fuck? No, there aren’t any ‘house rules’,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “I mean, I guess don’t play super loud music when I’m trying to sleep. I rent this place so don’t put thumbtacks in the wall or anything. And try to keep the kitchen clean—like if you see dishes in the sink don’t let them sit for more than a day, but I don’t think we need to have a strict chore schedule or anything like that.”
“Alright. Any, uh, curfew rules or something like that?”
There was a pause as Wilbur raised an eyebrow at him. “You’re an adult, Tommy, so no, you don’t have a curfew. I’m not your guardian either. I’m just…” he trailed off, face falling as he struggled to figure out how to describe what he was to Tommy.
Tommy understood. They weren’t stepbrothers—they hadn’t been for nearly a decade. They weren’t any kind of family at this point either. Would they count as friends? It felt too simple for what they were. Because Wilbur had been his family at one point in time, but wasn’t anymore. At the same time though, you couldn’t really downgrade from family to friends like that. Or at least Tommy didn’t feel like you could.
“There isn’t really a good way to call someone your ex-stepbrother, huh?” Tommy said after a few moments.
Giving Tommy a weak smile, Wilbur folded his arms over his chest. “Not really.”
The words fell to the floor between them, blanketing the room in silence. For a brief moment, Tommy felt like he could read all the minute expressions flashing over Wilbur’s face. Something sad, something guilty, something regretful—but as soon as it appeared, it all disappeared just as fast. His face smoothed out, and he straightened up as he headed back to the door.
“I’ll give you some time to unpack. I’ll be in the living room so let me know if you need anything,” Wilbur said.
And then, he was heading out the door, letting it shut behind him with a soft click!
Now alone for the first time since he called an Uber from Sam’s house early this morning, Tommy dropped his arms to his side, and let out a deep breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He listened as Wilbur’s footsteps faded down the hall, counting the seconds in his head before he dropped face first onto the bed.
The comforter was soft, and Tommy melted into the mattress as the fluttering behind his ribs finally began to slow. Everything itched, but not in a physical way. Ever since he’d gotten on that train, it was like he didn’t fit in his own skin. Uncertainty rushed through his veins like blood, and for the millionth time, Tommy found himself questioning what the fuck he was doing.
While Sam had been worried when Tommy told him he was moving out after graduation, he didn’t try to stop him. He only asked if Tommy was sure, and when Tommy said he was, Sam nodded and told him what he’d need to bring with him.
Tommy had made this decision on a whim. Two days after his eighteenth birthday, he kept staring at the Facebook message Wilbur had sent him, unable to get it out of his head. While he wanted to ignore it like Wilbur had ignored his messages all those years ago after suggesting they catch up, he also knew it wasn’t fair to punish Wilbur for something he’d done four years earlier. Along with that, Wilbur had seemed genuine with his offer. His desire to reconnect.
Memories floated through Tommy’s mind as he stared at the plain white ceiling of Wilbur’s guest room. He remembered being eight years old, sitting on the beanbag behind Wilbur’s computer chair and watching him play Terraria. He’d shout out unhelpful suggestions, and Wilbur would do what Tommy said even though it always made him lose the game because he knew Tommy liked to try and help.
He remembered staying up way past his bedtime, sitting on Wilbur’s bed and arguing about whether he got the guitar or drums when they played Rock Band together. Wilbur always gave into Tommy’s demands to let him play the drums, though in retrospect Tommy was pretty sure he liked playing the guitar better anyway, so it wasn’t that big of a sacrifice for Wilbur to make in the end.
He remembered when Wilbur’s friends would come over to the house, and how Tommy would follow them all like a lost duckling. Sometimes Wilbur would get annoyed and tell Tommy to leave them alone, but no one else was allowed to say that. His friends had learned that when one day, one of them had told Tommy to fuck off, and Wilbur had rounded on the boy, hissing a, “Don’t talk to my little brother like that,” between his teeth.
Tommy’s chest ached at that memory, but it wasn’t a sharp ache. It was dull, smoothed down over the years like a pebble in a river as Tommy accepted the loss of the relationship he’d had with his former stepbrother.
Now he was in his ex-stepbrother’s house. The relationship was still lost, the string having been cut long ago and far too frayed to stitch back together. But maybe a new string could be tied onto both of them. Just… maybe.
It was a stupid hope, but Tommy was only eighteen. This was the time for him to have stupid hopes, right?
After staring at the ceiling for a few minutes longer, Tommy forced himself to sit upright. Just because Wilbur never unpacked his shit didn’t mean Tommy had to do the same.
He unzipped his suitcase, scrunching up his face at the pile of wrinkled clothes he’d shoved in there the night before. Dumping the contents of the suitcase onto the bed, Tommy shook out his shirts and jeans as best he could, and folded them into neat piles. Once all his clothes were folded, he opened up the dresser drawers and began to stack them inside.
The top right drawer he planned to put his shirts in, but when he pulled it open, he found a smaller cardboard box sitting inside. Sighing, he took the box out and placed it on top of the dresser, putting the shirts in the drawer instead. Then, he found himself face to face with another one of Wilbur’s unpacked boxes.
Unlike most of the boxes, this one had already been cut open. It wasn’t terribly heavy, and was smaller than the others in the room. Through the small gaps in the cardboard flaps, Tommy could see what looked like printed pictures, and found himself with an internal dilemma.
He should put the box in another drawer. Ignore the contents inside and just shove it away like he’d never even touched it.
But… technically speaking, Wilbur didn’t say he couldn’t look in any of the boxes.
With careful fingers, Tommy tugged open the lid of the box, and saw that the entire thing was filled with old photographs and photo albums. After glancing to the door to make sure he didn’t hear any footsteps in the hall, he moved the box onto the edge of the bed and sat down beside it.
He took out a stack of pictures. A lot of them seemed to be pictures of Wilbur when he was young—younger than he’d been when Tommy first met him. Some were baby pictures, showing a toddler-aged Wilbur feeding ducks in a pond with a dark-haired woman Tommy didn’t recognize holding onto him so he didn’t fall in. Another picture had Wilbur when he couldn’t have been more than five, sitting on a picnic blanket in what looked like a park, his face screwed up in disgust as he stared at two dogs nearby that were, as an exasperated parent might say, ’play fighting.’
Tommy paused when he came across another old photo. This one was an old Christmas card, with a cheery, Merry Christmas from the Soot family! emblazoned across the top in red font. Beneath the words, Tommy could see three people sitting in front of a Christmas tree. One was Wilbur, looking maybe somewhere around five or six years old, sitting on the dark-haired woman’s lap with a bright smile on his face. Phil had his arm wrapped around the woman, absolutely beaming at the camera in a way Tommy couldn’t remember ever seeing when Phil had still been with his mum.
Unlike Wilbur, Phil had never made any attempts to reach out to Tommy. He didn’t seem to have any social media, given that Wilbur never tagged him in the rare photos he posted on Facebook, so Tommy supposed that made sense. But at the very least, Tommy had expected to get some kind of text or hell, even an email from the man when his mum died two years before. Wilbur had messaged him about it, and while Tommy had been too out of it to even think about responding at the time, he appreciated the sentiment. Meanwhile, all he’d gotten was radio silence from the man who had once been the only father he’d ever known.
Tommy wasn’t bitter about it. He just… thought it was kind of shitty.
(If Tommy were being honest with himself, he knew there were a lot of things he resented Phil for. But he had moved on. He was eighteen now, and didn’t need to hold onto stupid grudges, so he wasn’t bitter. And he would keep telling himself that until he believed it.)
Curiosity more than sated, Tommy put the stack of pictures back and picked up another pile from the box. These pictures were different, because unlike the standard printed photos of the mid-2000s, these ones were all polaroids. Not old polaroids, but ones from those cameras you could get from Target that came in colors like pink and mint.
These pictures must’ve been taken after Phil had split from Tommy’s mum. Most of them were of Wilbur in what Tommy guessed was his last year of high school, showing him laughing with friends, smoking cigarettes on playgrounds in the dead of night, filling out what looked like a college application at some dining table—things like that. One of the polaroids showed Wilbur at his high school graduation, wearing the cap and gown and smiling with obvious relief. Phil was standing next to him in the picture, wearing a suit and tie and looking every inch a proud parent.
Tommy frowned at the pictures. He ran his finger lightly over Wilbur and Phil’s smiling faces, and found himself focusing on the empty space beside them. Just enough room for a third person. Maybe a scrawny kid who would’ve been smiling ear to ear, tugging on his older brother’s gown and asking if he could try the stupid hat on.
Pulling out his phone, Tommy brought up his photo app. There was a picture of him and Sam at his graduation from the week before that Ponk had taken, but while Phil had his arm slung around Wilbur’s shoulders in their picture, Sam just stood awkwardly beside Tommy who were both grinning in that forced way you did when you’d been waiting for someone to take the photo for too long. There was empty space on Tommy’s left—more than enough room for a stepbrother and a stepfather to fit into the photo.
Tapping on the ‘edit’ button, Tommy cropped the picture so the empty space to his left wasn’t visible. He clicked save, and tossed his phone to the side. Then, he put the polaroids back into the box, making sure everything was exactly as he’d left it. Opening up an empty dresser drawer, he put the box back inside, and didn’t let himself breathe until it was completely out of sight.
After that, his movements were automatic. He unpacked the rest of his suitcase, putting his old laptop on the nightstand and plugging his extension cord into the outlet under the bed. There was a bathroom attached to the guest room, and he left the ziploc bag that had his toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, etc. in it on the counter next to the sink. Then, he zipped his empty suitcase back up, before shoving it under the bed to keep it out of the way.
And just like that, he was unpacked. The room still didn’t feel any less like a stranger’s than it had thirty minutes before.
His eyes flitted over to the stereo on top of the dresser that he had ignored before. He hadn’t seen a CD stereo in a few years, and was surprised to find a stack of dust-covered CD’s sitting next to it. He picked up one of the plastic cases, his fingers turning brown with dust as he eyed the titles written in sharpie along the front of the discs.
For when you’re sad.
For when you’re happy.
For when it’s midnight and you can’t decide what snack you want to get.
These were custom CD’s that looked as though they hadn’t been touched in at least a decade. He had a feeling Wilbur wasn’t the one to make these, and debated putting the midnight snack one in the stereo just to see what kind of music was on it.
Before he could decide though, there was a knock at the door. Heart skipping a beat, Tommy almost dropped the CD case in his hand as he hastily put it back, brushing his hands off even though he knew there was nothing wrong with him looking at the CD’s since they’d already been out in the open.
“Uh, yeah?” He called out after a moment, heart pounding in his chest.
“Hey, I don’t wanna bother you if you’re still unpacking, but I’m meeting up with some friends for dinner soon if you wanna come with?” Wilbur’s muffled voice came through the door.
Tommy blinked. He almost opened his mouth to respond, but then realized it was stupid to talk with a door in between them, and walked over to pull it open.
Wilbur had taken off the sweater he’d been wearing before, leaving him in just a wrinkled white button-down with the sleeves still rolled up. He jumped when Tommy opened the door, but quickly regained his composure.
“I don’t wanna intrude on hanging out with you and your friends,” Tommy said carefully, watching Wilbur’s face to see if he could tell whether the invite was genuine or just given out of obligation.
“You’re not intruding,” Wilbur immediately replied, with no hint of a lie in his face. “I’ve told my friends you’re moving here, and they all definitely wanna meet you.”
“You… told them about me?”
Wilbur nodded, brows furrowing. “Is that a problem?”
“Oh, not at all,” Tommy told him, shaking his head. “I just- I dunno, I didn’t expect you to tell people about me.”
Something in Wilbur’s face softened at this. “Of course I have. But if you don’t wanna come, that’s totally fine. You’re probably tired from the train ride and-”
“I’ll come,” Tommy said, cutting him off.
At this, Wilbur grinned. “Great. We’re gonna leave in roughly an hour-ish.”
Tommy nodded. “Okay.”
There was an awkward pause as Wilbur stared at him, clearly not sure how to exit the conversation. After a few tense beats, Wilbur shook himself off and nodded, before turning to walk back down the hallway.
Closing his door again, Tommy settled on the edge of the bed and twisted his fingers together in his lap. He was going to meet Wilbur’s friends now. Friends who apparently knew who he was. A part of him wondered what Wilbur had said about him to them. How he’d described Tommy. Was their only impression of him so far the hyper, loud-mouthed ten year old he’d been the last time he’d seen Wilbur? Had he called Tommy his ex-stepbrother, like how Tommy tended to describe Wilbur? Or had he just said he was an old family friend?
Tommy wasn’t sure.
Over the next hour, Tommy decided to change out of the stained hoodie and shorts he’d been wearing on the train, and tugged on a pair of jeans instead since it was going to be dark soon, and it wouldn’t be too hot for jeans anymore. Then, he just… waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Until,
“Tommy? You ready?” Wilbur asked, knocking on his door.
Blinking himself out of the half-nap he’d been having on the bed, he hurried to the door and almost tripped over his own feet swinging it open. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
On the other side of the door, Wilbur had seemingly taken a shower, with his hair still a bit wet as it stuck to his forehead. Tommy was relieved to see he was just wearing a plain sweater and jeans, so the place they were eating at probably wasn’t anywhere high-end.
“Cool. Let’s go,” Wilbur said, gesturing for Tommy to follow him out.
They left the house, stepping out the front door into the cool evening air. It was a blessed relief from the summer heat of the afternoon, and Tommy tugged his sweatshirt sleeves down as he walked around to the passenger seat of the car.
“What kind of music do you like?” Wilbur asked as he reversed out of his driveway.
“I dunno, it varies,” Tommy said when he was unable to think of a specific genre.
Wilbur huffed as he put the car back into drive. “What’s your favorite song?”
Tommy had a favorite song, but he couldn’t tell it to Wilbur. Because if he told Wilbur, he would immediately know why it was Tommy’s favorite, and Tommy really didn’t want to deal with that embarrassment right now.
So instead of telling the truth, he just shrugged. “Dunno. My music taste is kind of all over the place.”
“Oh c’mon, you don’t even have a favorite song?” Wilbur asked, glancing at Tommy when they stopped at a red light. Tommy shook his head, and Wilbur sighed. “Alright, fine. Then I’m playing my music and you don’t get to complain.”
The bluetooth carplay was already hooked up to Wilbur’s phone, and he tapped a few buttons on the touchscreen before an alt-j song popped up. He turned up the volume so it was loud, but not loud enough to be uncomfortable, and Tommy found himself bopping along to the beat as they drove.
They didn’t speak for the rest of the ride. Tommy nodded his head in time with the beats of the different songs Wilbur played, while Wilbur sang along under his breath. By the time they were pulling into a parking lot, Tommy had come to the conclusion that Wilbur actually had pretty damn good music taste. At least Tommy liked all the songs he played, so it was good to him.
After swerving into a parking spot, Wilbur held a hand up to stop Tommy from climbing out as the end of the song played out. He mouthed along to the lyrics, and Tommy couldn’t help but smile at how into it Wilbur seemed to be. Then, right as the music faded into silence, Wilbur cut the engine.
He climbed out of the car, Tommy following suit. Then, Tommy turned to see where they were eating, and frowned.
“A pub? I thought we were getting dinner,” Tommy said, frowning at the sign that read, Duck’s Head Pub.
“You can get food at a pub,” Wilbur explained, locking the car behind them as they walked up to the door. “Besides, I’m friends with the owners.”
And that was all the explanation Tommy got before Wilbur was pushing open the doors, and Tommy found himself stepping inside the pub.
The inside was surprisingly cozy compared to what Tommy expected from a pub. The bar dominated the space, made of a smooth, dark wood that looked as though it had been freshly polished. Lining the walls were several booths with plush leather seats, along with a few more tables scattered around the middle of the room. One corner had a pool table that was currently not being used, and the smell of burgers and fries hung heavily in the air.
As they walked inside, the bartender waved at them from behind the bar. He was a shorter man with black hair and a blue beanie shoved on top. His button-up shirt was already suffering what Tommy guessed was a beer stain, but the most noticeable feature about him was the long scar running down his eye and onto his cheek.
“Quackity!” Wilbur greeted in a high-pitched voice as he walked up to the bar.
“Wilbur Soot!” The bartender yelled back in an equally squeaky voice. “What’s up, man?”
“Well, I brought someone here with me I want you to meet,” Wilbur said, grabbing Tommy’s shoulder and tugging him closer so they were standing side by side. “Quackity, this is Tommy. Tommy, this is my friend, Quackity.”
Immediately, Quackity grinned. “Goddamn, so you’re the Tommy Wilbur keeps telling us all about,” he chuckled, reaching out a hand over the bar. “Nice to finally meet you, man.”
Tommy took the offered hand, shaking it briefly before shoving his hands back in his pockets. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Did you just get in today?” Quackity asked, raising an eyebrow. Tommy nodded. “Well, first off, I’m extending an invitation in advance for you to come hideout at the bar when you inevitably get sick of listening to Wilbur rant about eighteenth century poetry, because you’re gonna want to bash your head in within the first week.”
Wilbur scoffed, although he didn’t actually seem offended by Quackity’s teasing. “Fuck off, Quackity. You know you like my rants.”
Quackity narrowed his eyes. “Only in a debate, Soot.”
“I think you just like arguing with me,” Wilbur crooned, flashing Quackity a knowing smirk.
Rolling his eyes, Quackity flipped Wilbur off as he started rinsing a glass out behind the bar. “I think you get way more satisfaction out of it than I do.”
“I dunno, you seemed pretty satisfied with our debate at Niki’s birthday-”
“Wilbur!”
Tommy thanked every force in the universe when another voice called out Wilbur’s name, cutting the strange flirtatious argument going on in front of him short.
Both Wilbur and Tommy turned around to the source of the voice, which came from the far corner of the bar. There, Tommy could see a group of people stuffed into a booth, with one girl aggressively waving them both over.
“You want your usual beer?” Quackity asked behind them.
Wilbur nodded. “Yeah. Tommy, what do you want to drink?”
“A coke is fine.”
Nodding, Quackity waved them away from the bar. “Alright, I’ll bring those over in a minute. Go introduce the kid to the others.”
With that, Wilbur dragged Tommy away from the bar and towards the corner booth. As they walked over, Tommy could feel the occupants eyes skimming over him, eyes narrowing and brows scrunching up as they all presumably tried to figure out who he was.
There were four people in the booth. The girl who waved them over had faded pink hair that was tied into two small buns on the sides of her head, and was wearing a pair of blue overalls stained with dirt. Next to her was a guy with a thin face and a shaved head, with his mismatched blue and brown eyes watching Tommy with careful excitement. On the other side of the booth, there was a guy that was possibly even taller than Wilbur, who had black shoulder length hair streaked through with grey and white strands despite the fact that he couldn’t have been over twenty. And lastly, on the tall guy’s left, there was a much smaller person who had long brown hair and a red beanie shoved over their head.
“Hello everyone, first I would like to- wait, where the fuck is Tubbo?” Wilbur asked, cutting himself off mid sentence as he frowned at the booth.
“Oh, he had to stay late at the garage fixing a rush order for someone. I’m gonna go pick him up when he’s done, but it might not be for a while,” the guy with black and white hair answered.
Wilbur frowned. “Dammit. I was especially excited to introduce you to Tubbo because I have a feeling you two would really get along,” he said to Tommy.
“So what, are the rest of us just chopped liver then?” The shaved head guy jumped in.
“Niki’s not. The rest of you suck though so-”
The table broke out into loud groans, and Wilbur grinned.
“Alright, I’ll stop the bullshit,” he relented, tugging Tommy closer by the arm. “Everyone, this is Tommy, my… well, I’ve told you about him before,” Wilbur introduced, laughing awkwardly at his near faux pas. “Tommy, this is Niki,” he pointed at the pink-haired girl, “Jack Manifold,” then shaved head guy, “Ranboo and Aimsey,” he said, finishing it off pointing at the black and white haired boy and the person with the red beanie.
“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Tommy!” Aimsey immediately said, waving at him.
“God, yeah, fucking finally. Feel like Wil’s been going on for months about trying to get his shit ready for Tommy to move in-”
Jack was cut off by Niki elbowing him in the side, before she turned to give him a sweet smile. “What Jack means to say is that Wil told us about how you asked about moving here a few months ago, so it just feels like we’ve been waiting to meet you for a while.”
Folding his arms over his chest, Tommy fought the urge to look at the ground. “I dunno what he’s told you about me, but if it’s anything embarrassing then it’s definitely not true.”
The group all laughed at this, and Tommy was relieved that his joke seemed to land.
“Here, let’s sit down,” Wilbur suddenly said, as if he’d forgotten they were still standing in front of the table till then.
Both sides of the booth scooted closer to make room, and Tommy ended up sitting next to Aimsey, while Wilbur was across from him beside Niki. Right as they settled in, Quackity came over with a beer in one hand, and a coke in the other. The others at the table already had their drinks (Ranboo and Aimsey also had soda, while Niki and Jack both had fizzy-looking cocktails), so Tommy was expecting him to leave as soon as he set down his and Wilbur’s drinks.
Instead though, he placed down two identical menus. “Just wave me over when you’re ready to order,” he told them, before turning to head back to the bar.
This was a food menu, not a drinks menu. Wilbur picked one up, tilting it so Niki and Jack could see it over his shoulder. Tommy ended up sliding the other menu to Aimsey, who held it up for Tommy and Ranboo both to see.
The food was pretty much what you would expect from a small pub. Greasy things like burgers, fries, mac and cheese, etc. After only one skim of the menu itself, Tommy decided on a burger, since he’d gotten chicken nuggets from McDonald’s earlier that day and figured a burger sounded pretty good right now.
“You know what you’re gonna get, Tommy?” Aimsey asked as they tilted the menu more towards him. Tommy nodded, and they hummed as they set the menu back down, sliding it to the middle.
“This place has great fries by the way,” Wilbur suddenly said, having handed off his menu entirely to Niki. “Like, if you’re gonna get anything, you wanna get those.”
“Oh yeah, you definitely want to get the fries if you can,” Ranboo jumped in, nodding eagerly. “They’re Techno’s specialty.”
Before Tommy could ask who Techno was, Quackity was already walking back over, with someone apparently having waved him down without Tommy noticing. They all gave him their orders, and with a thumb’s up, he took the menus and hurried back to the bar.
As soon as he was gone, all eyes at the table turned to Tommy.
“So Tommy, how are you liking the town so far?” Niki asked first, folding her fingers together underneath her chin.
“It’s fine, I guess,” Tommy shrugged, tapping his fingers along the edge of the table.
“Just fine?” Aimsey questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“I mean, it’s not like I’ve had much of a chance to explore the fuckin’ place. I only got here a few hours ago, and Wilbur took me straight to his place,” Tommy muttered.
“Of course Wil’s been a terrible tour guide,” Jack scoffed. “If he could, he’d probably move into the library archives and we’d see him once a year at most.”
Wilbur frowned. “Not true! I just wanted to let him unpack and get settled in!”
“You’re not denying the part about living in the library archives,” Ranboo pointed out.
“Because he knows Jack’s right,” Niki jumped in, flashing Wilbur a teasing smile. “Tommy, was Wilbur obsessed with history when he was a kid?”
Tommy thought back to when they were younger, and Wilbur would come home from high school with a bulging backpack and deep bags under his eyes. He’d spend ages struggling on things like maths and science homework, but there was always a smile on his face when he was pouring over a history textbook.
“He tried to explain the Protestant Reformation to me when I was nine,” Tommy told the group after a moment.
“It’s one of the most interesting shifts in Western European history!” Wilbur exclaimed. “I thought you’d find the fact that Martin Luther bitched out the Church funny!”
“Wil, I didn’t even know what the fuck Catholicism was when I was nine,” Tommy pointed out.
“Okay, but you still got the gist of what I was telling you, right?” Tommy shook his head, and Wilbur gasped. “I asked you if you understood and you said you did!”
“Again, I was nine. I didn’t have a goddamn clue what was going on most of the time,” Tommy huffed, leaning back in his seat.
“Then why did you sit and listen to me ramble for so long?” Wilbur asked, a crease forming between his brows.
“I liked hanging out with you,” was the only thing Tommy could think to say in response. As soon as he said it though, he regretted the words, because Wilbur’s face immediately softened as the others at the table let out a loud awwwwww.
“Okay, that was really sweet,” Jack said, grinning at Tommy.
Tommy scowled. “Shut the fuck up! I was a kid! I liked hanging out with Wil because I thought he was cool!”
“And of course now you’ve realized he’s not cool at all,” Ranboo cut in, smirking at Wilbur across the table.
Wilbur’s eyes widened. “Hey!”
“Oh, yeah, I figured that out when he wore a fuckin’ sweater in eighty-five degree heat to pick me up today,” Tommy teased.
“Wil, I keep telling you you’re gonna get heat stroke one of these days,” Aimsey chastised.
“I was outside for, like, fifteen minutes. It was fine,” Wilbur pouted, slumping down in his seat.
“Y’know, I’ve never met someone as committed to the aesthetic of their job as you are,” Ranboo said thoughtfully, resting his elbows on the table. “Every time I see you I’m just like, yeah, Wilbur looks like a librarian.”
“Archival librarian, excuse you,” Wilbur corrected him.
And somehow, Tommy realized in that moment that he had no clue what Wilbur did for work until then.
“You’re an archivist?” Tommy asked.
Wilbur blinked. “Oh, did I not mention that?” Tommy shook his head. “Yeah, I work as an archivist at the local library. Keeping track of historical documents and all that shit.”
“Oh.” For some reason, if Tommy had been forced to take a guess as to what Wilbur did, an archivist would not be anywhere on his list of possibilities. “That’s cool.”
“You can say it sounds dead boring, It’s okay,” Wilbur huffed, smiling at him. “I like history, so seeing all these historical records is pretty damn cool to me. But I also know literally no one else besides me cares that much about population statistics from 1892.”
“Speaking of work,” Niki jumped in, “Tommy, you just graduated high school, right? What are you thinking of doing?”
Ah, yes. The classic post-graduation, “what are you going to do with your life now?” Tommy hated this fucking question.
“At the moment? Not entirely sure. Just thinking of getting a part-time job or something for a bit while I figure out if I wanna go to uni or not.”
Instead of the disappointment or silent judgment he’d been expecting to receive for that admission, everyone at the table just nodded in understanding.
“Oh! Ranboo’s doing that too!” Aimsey said, pointing to Ranboo on their right.
Leaning over so he could see Ranboo on Aimsey’s other side, Tommy raised an eyebrow. “You are?”
Ranboo, who had shrunk back into his seat like he was trying to hide, sheepishly nodded. “Um, yeah. I graduated last year and I’ve kinda just been, y’know, working a bit on my own to try and figure out what I wanna do career-wise.”
“What do you do right now?” Tommy asked.
“I work at a daycare center,” Ranboo admitted, a fond smile quickly replacing the sheepishness. “I like working with kids, so I figured helping to take care of them wouldn’t be that bad of a job. It’s definitely, um, exhausting at times. And toddlers can be really frustrating when they want to be. But the sweet moments help overshadow the bad moments.”
“By sweet moments, we all know you mean every time you get to see Michael,” Aimsey teased, a soft smile on their face.
As if a switch had flipped, warmth bloomed on Ranboo’s face at the name ‘Michael’. “Okay that’s- yeah, okay, that’s fair.”
“Michael is a little boy who comes to the daycare nearly every day,” Aimsey quickly explained to Tommy. “He’s Ranboo’s favorite.”
“I don’t have favorites,” Ranboo protested.
“You absolutely do,” Aimsey shot back. “You talk about Michael like he’s your own kid sometimes.”
“He’s- He’s just a sweet kid!” Ranboo sputtered in his own defense. “Anyway, why are we only talking about me? You work with kids too, Aimsey.”
“I work with high schoolers, which is a bit different to working with toddlers,” Aimsey pointed out. “I’m in school right now to become a teacher, so I’m doing teacher’s aide work right now at the local high school.”
Tommy raised an eyebrow as he gave Aimsey another once-over. “You’re, like, not that much older than me, right? Do people ever think you’re a student?”
Aimsey gave Tommy a flat look. “Every single day,” they deadpanned.
“I dunno how you can stand working at a high school. I fucking hated that place,” Jack cut in. “If I had to go back, I think I’d have war flashbacks every time a teacher mentioned a pop quiz, even if I knew I wasn’t gonna have to take it.”
“Trust me, I still get anxiety spikes every time the teacher asks people to hand in their homework,” Aimsey snorted, leaning into Ranboo’s side.
“What about you, Jack?” Tommy asked, turning his attention to the man across the table. “What do you do for work?”
At this, both Jack and Niki grinned. “Niki’s my boss,” Jack said proudly, nudging her side with his elbow. “She’s got a flower shop that I work at.”
“I got it passed down to me from my aunt,” Niki explained. “I didn’t plan on taking it over for her originally, but after I graduated uni I was struggling to find a job and it was just… there. Plus, I’ve always liked gardening and flowers, so it’s honestly been a lot more enjoyable than I expected it to be.”
“Fuckin’ stressful though,” Jack added. “I swear to god, flowers will jump at the opportunity to wilt.”
Niki giggled. “I think that’s only the case for you, Jack.”
“It’s very kind of you to keep Jack Manifold employed when he’s literally the opposite of a green thumb,” Wilbur then said. “I’ve literally seen you kill a cactus before, Jack.”
“To be fair, it is rather impressive to be able to kill a cactus,” Niki pointed out, looking as though she was struggling to hide a smile. “There’s gotta be some merit for that.”
“Exactly, at least Niki recognizes my- hey, wait a minute!”
Before Jack could dive into a flurry of curses, there was movement from the corner of Tommy’s eye, and he jumped in his seat when he noticed someone bringing over their food.
The man bringing them their food wasn’t Quackity. If anything, he was almost the polar opposite of the bartender. This guy was built like a tank. He had broad shoulders and pink hair dyed much brighter than Niki’s faded pastel, and it was pulled into a loose braid that hung down his back. Gold hoops decorated his ears, there was a stained chef’s apron over his white button-down shirt, and Tommy noticed he was holding what looked like a very heavy tray of food with one hand.
“Techno!” Wilbur cried out in greeting, his face splitting into a wide grin. “Our savior has arrived!”
The cook, Techno—at least Tommy presumed that’s who he was based off the apron—huffed out a half-smile as he set the tray down on the table. “You’re only callin’ me that because I’m bringing you food.”
“Aw, Techno, we’d be happy you’re here even if you weren’t bringing us food,” Niki said, smiling sweetly at him.
“No, he’s right. I’m only smiling for the fries,” Jack said, already reaching across the table to try and grab a basket of fries off the tray.
Niki smacked his hand away. “Don’t be rude!”
Techno huffed as he began to hand out the orders to everyone at the table. He seemed to know exactly what dish belonged to who without needing to ask, and Tommy wondered how often they all came here to eat dinner together.
When the only thing left on the tray was Tommy’s burger, Techno paused, his dark brown eyes flickering up to meet Tommy’s. “I don’t know you,” he said flatly.
Tommy blinked. “No, you don’t.”
“Techno, that’s Tommy. I told you about him already,” Wilbur cut in.
“Oh, you’re… yeah, okay, that makes sense,” Techno muttered, blinking once before setting the burger plate in front of Tommy. “Not gonna lie, for a second I thought you were gonna say Phil’s your long lost dad and you’ve come here to try and find him. You look just like him.”
At the mention of Phil, Tommy’s shoulders tensed. He didn’t look like Phil. Sure, they were both blonde and had blue eyes, but it didn’t mean Phil looked like his biological father or anything.
“Um, no. I’m not related to Phil,” Tommy muttered, sliding down in his seat.
“Yeah, I can see that now,” Techno huffed, lifting the empty tray back up. “Why isn’t he here anyway?”
“He couldn’t make it tonight. Said he was too ‘in the zone’ with his latest painting,” Wilbur explained, taking a bite of a fry.
Wait.
Phil was supposed to be at this dinner?
“Uh, Phil lives in this town?” Tommy asked, wincing at the way his voice cracked when he said Phil’s name.
There was a beat of silence as everyone’s eyes widened. Then, all heads turned to Wilbur, who looked like he was trying to melt into his own seat.
“I- I thought you knew that Phil lived here,” Wilbur stammered, frowning at Tommy.
Tommy shook his head. “No.”
“Well,” Wilbur bit the inside of his cheek, eyes flickering to the table, “that’s not a problem, right?”
It wasn’t a problem. Why would it be a problem? Tommy had already known he was going to be dredging up his past living with Wilbur again, so what difference did it make if he ended up running into Phil as well? It’s not like he expected to never see the man. It was just… strange to think that he might accidentally run into Phil on the street.
Ignoring the tightness in his chest, Tommy shook his head. “Of course not. Just surprised me is all.”
Breathing out a sigh of relief, Wilbur’s shoulders slumped as he grabbed another french fry from the basket. “Okay. That’s good.”
Another silence engulfed the table. Ranboo took an obnoxiously loud sip of his drink, immediately shrinking back when everyone’s eyes flickered to him. One tense second passed, and then another.
Then,
“Uh, alright. I’m gonna get back to the kitchen before Quackity short-circuits,” Techno said, glancing back at the bar where Quackity was very obviously glaring at him. “I swear, that guy tries to act like he’s my boss when I own half this bar. My french fries are the reason for, like, half our customer base!”
The momentary tension began to dissolve as Niki giggled. “Just threaten to stop making them, that’ll get him to be nicer to you.”
“It’s not that he’s rude to Techno,” Wilbur corrected, “it’s like when a small bird perceives a threat. It tries to puff up its feathers to seem bigger. That’s Quackity.”
“I don’t think it’s possible for me to feel threatened by Quackity, but if it makes him feel better…” Techno shrugged, waving at the table as he turned on his heel. “See you guys later.”
“Bye Techno!” The table chorused, while Tommy stayed silent.
After that, the conversation resumed, albeit with a bit less participation from Tommy. Though after a few minutes, he found himself getting dragged back in by Wilbur asking him to name the top three best fruits, followed by the top three worst fruits.
Soon enough, the uncomfortable itching under Tommy’s skin was gone. He found himself laughing along to Jack’s wild stories, and listened intently as Wilbur and Ranboo debated about the existence of ghosts.
Although he still wasn’t sure if he’d made the right choice or not, Tommy found himself hoping he would like it here. And judging by the nervous smiles Wilbur kept flashing him, he had a feeling Wilbur felt the same.