Chapter Text
Tommy is having a perfectly normal life! Normal day, normal the-same-fucking-shit-every-single-day kind of life!!
He wakes up late, gets shouted at by his foster parent for waking up late, doesn't have time for breakfast, forgets half his school bags at home, steps in a puddle and gets his entire foot soaked, gets berated by the teacher for being late, barely managed through the day without having five breakdowns, then goes to his shitty little part time job at the gas station to get shouted at by the customers! Then goes home to get shouted at some more!
Now. Other people would call this "depressing" but Tommy however likes to refer to it as "just the way things are" because, well, that is just the way things are! They'll never be any different, they'll always be the way they are. (It's always been like this, always will be like this, and Tommy sees no way out of it.)
Tommy is not suicidal.
He doesn't want to die, he just... Constantly wishes things would be different.
Somebody called it dissociating, the one time he told someone about it. About how he spends most of his time in his head, thinking, imagining a different life, what it would be like to have a family that actually wants him and friends who don't talk shit behind his back.
He doesn't wish he was someone else, he just wishes his life was... Different.
Right now especially.
"YOU GAVE ME BACK THE WRONG AMOUNT OF CHANGE!!" The customer screams so loudly and spit flies out of his mouth. Gross.
"Sir, I don't count your change, the machine does that." Tommy tiredly repeats for what is probably a millionth time just today alone. (When does his shift end again? Tommy spares a glance at the clock. Hm. In three hours. Lovely.)
"IT DID IT WRONG! THIS IS NOT THE CORRECT CHANGE!" The customer continues to scream.
Tommy sighs with so much exhaustion he's sure a part of his soul escapes him. "Would you like me to get the manager?"
"YES!! GET SOMEONE COMPETENT IN HERE!"
"Okay."
Tommy walks to the back and stays there for several minutes. His manager isn't here right now, rarely is actually. Bastard fucking ditches him as soon as Tommy comes in for his shift yet the bitch still gets paid so much more than Tommy!! It's not fair, but it is the way things are.
He takes a couple of deep breaths to brace himself for getting shouted at once again and steps back out into the store. (He wants to stay in the damn back room.)
"Sorry my manager isn't in right... Now.." He trails off, seeing a completely different person now waiting by the counter.
"He left." The customer says with a bright smile. "Awfully loud, wasn't he? He probably got bored of waiting."
The customer shrugs light heartedly and immediately the back of Tommy's neck tingles with a sense of wrong wrong wrong. (He's never been good at detecting lies, never been good at knowing if someone is using him or anything. He's not very good at social cues and body language in general, he never understood it. But right now in this moment, this guy is giving him the creeps.)
"Okay." Tommy says in a flat tone. "Can I get you anything?"
"Yeah. A pack of camels."
Tommy nods slowly and doesn't quite want to turn his back to this guy. The cigarette rack is placed on the wall behind the counter, so he'd have to turn his back to the guy to get the damn cigarettes for him.
Tommy sighs and turns to the cigarette rack, standing sideways so that his back is not completely turned to the stranger. It works. It takes him a moment to get the damn cigarettes out from the stupid fucking holder, but he's not got his back turned and that feels fine.
"Anything else?" Tommy places the pack of cigarettes on the counter.
The guy looks at Tommy and stays silent for what Tommy thinks is a Not Socially Acceptable amount of time. (But who the hell is he to judge? He doesn't fucking know.)
"How old are you, kid?" Stranger says and becomes Stranger Danger.
"I'm an adult."
The guy raises an eyebrow. "No you're not."
"You ever seen an 18 year old these days? They look like this." Tommy says and gestures to himself.
"No way you're 18. Let me see your ID." The guy's tone is off, and Tommy thinks it's demanding.
"No."
"Yeah, come on. You're lying to me."
Tommy taps the cigarettes into the register. "That'll be 68 crowns."
"That cheap? Are you scamming me?" The guy picks the cigarettes up and checks them over.
"No I just want you to fucking leave." Tommy grumbles and fixes the price on the register. He doesn't care about the correct price, he just wants this guy to get out. "Okay. Now it's 107."
The guy is silent for a moment. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"Yeah."
The guy pays then goes outside, lingering by the door.
Tommy wants to bash his head into the counter and maybe knock himself out, but honestly that would be a horrible idea considering this creep is lingering around. Tommy knows what could happen when creeps are being creepy, and he'd rather not that happen to himself.
He sighs and rounds the counter, walking to the door.
"You can't smoke right by the door." Tommy says in annoyed tone.
"I can smoke wherever I want." Guy responds.
"I can call the cops on your for smoking in a public space like this."
"I can afford to pay off a fine." The guy smirks as if that's supposed to be impressive and not make him look like an asshole.
"Can't you just make my job easier and leave?"
"Well if it pleases you then I will."
Okay. Weird thing to say.
"Just leave."
Tommy walks back to stand behind the counter, stacking and unstacking and re-stacking cups to have something to do and to look moderately busy.
He looks at the clock. Two hours and thirty minutes left. Damn.
Maybe he could shut down the store early and just leave already, then make up some bullshit excuse for his manager who wouldn't believe him even if he showed up with a broken arm and a doctor's note stating it had been a real emergency.
Stacking cups, putting tissues in the tissue box, walking around the store to realign items and make the crisp bags look Not So Crinkled, anything to have just Something to do. Something to pass time. (He dives deeper into his head too, imagining something else. In his world he doesn't work at this shitty gas station to get money to pay for his own groceries because his foster parents won't. He lives in a big house with a family who treats him like he belongs, he's wanted and he lives a stress free life.)
(Imagination is so much nicer than reality.)
The doors open and the dumb machine above the door chimes. Tommy is pulled out of his imagination and walks back behind the counter.
Spotting the customer makes him want to scream. The creepy damn Stranger Danger guy is back. Why is he back? Does he fucking live in the store now?
"I'll call the cops on you if you keep lingering." Tommy threatens.
The guy looks up and fucking smiles, like it's a funny joke. "Okay."
"I'm serious."
"Okay!" The guy sounds stupidly cheerful.
"Please leave."
"I'm buying stuff."
"Go buy it somewhere else."
"I'm sure your manager wouldn't like it if you drove away customers."
Tommy wants to die in that moment, or just fucking combust and disappear. Anything so he doesn't have to deal with this shit.
He contemplates just running away, leaving the store open to get robbed or whatever the fuck. He just wants to get out of here. Fuck! Maybe he'll rob the damn store, get all the cash from the register and get on a bus to fuck-knows-where and start an entirely new life! Maybe he'll act really pathetic around some bloke with a soft heart and get adopted into their picture perfect family of rich people. (Wouldn't that be the dream.)
The stranger danger guy dumps a lot of snacks onto the counter.
"Just this!" He says in the stupid cheerful tone.
Tommy feels anything but cheerful. Dead, maybe.
He begins to ring it all up.
"So what's your name?" Stranger danger guy asks.
"Nunya."
"That's a weird name."
"Yeah it means nunya damn business."
The guy actually laughs. Which... (Nobody ever laughs at Tommy's jokes. Ever.)
(No! NO! He's not about to feel validation because a stranger laughed at his joke! Absolutely not! This is a Stranger Danger situation, he's not going to fucking feel comfortable or validated by a Stranger Danger creep!!)
"Okay. That'll all be 435 crowns." Tommy says in a flat tone, so sick of this guy sticking around.
The guy nods, pulls out his wallet, and places two 500 crown bills on the counter. Tommy stares blankly at the bills.
"Do you want your change back?" Tommy asks and takes the money.
"One of those are for you, the other is to pay for the stuff." The guy grins.
Tommy wants to explode and die.
"I'm not allowed to accept tips."
"Well I insist."
"And I insist on keeping my job, take it back." Tommy holds one of the bills out for the guy to grab, but he just doesn't.
"Keep it."
"I'll get fired."
"Surely your manager won't have to know."
Tommy sighs and just puts the money into the pocket of his jeans. Extra money is always nice, but not when it comes at the expense of possibly losing his damn fucking job.
"Okay. Here's your change." Tommy says and hands the change to the guy.
"Thaaank you for your great service, I'll be sure to leave a nice review."
Tommy wants to throw up. This guy is being weird, really weird. "Okay. Cool. Thanks for shopping at shitty gas station, you can leave now."
The guy steps out of the store but Tommy catches him lingering by the gas pumps. (He cannot wait for his shift to be over.)
Not many customers come in, he rings up the stuff of one lady who then proceeded to complain about her day at work as if Tommy would ever care. He's not a free therapist, damn it, he hates these customers.
The Stranger Danger guy is still lingering around when Tommy locks up the store.
He stops in the back and debates calling someone, maybe the nonemergency number but what are they going to do?
So, he gets his stuff and leaves around the back.
It's autumn so it's dark and it's cold, and he slips away in the dark. The guy probably didn't notice him leaving, or see which direction he went in, and that's really good. (Tommy doesn't really think that the guy would try to follow him home, but he was being really fucking creepy and Tommy isn't gonna risk it.)
(He feels bad for all the women in the world, having to deal with this shit on the regular must suck ass.)
Checking over his shoulder several times and jumping at the slightest noise behind him, he hurries and gets home quicker than before.
He fumbles with the keys with trembling hands and finally manages to unlock the door and slip inside, quietly shutting the door behind him. He sighs and locks it, then sighs again when he takes his shoes off.
"You're home late again." His foster father says.
"I just got back from work." Tommy mumbles.
"Your shift ends at 7, so you should be home by that time, not at 8."
"Yeah I get off work at 7, I can't just be back here by that time! It takes like nearly an hour to walk here." Tommy knows he shouldn't argue, but he's tired and this is the same shit as always.
His foster father folds his arms. "I expect you home at 7."
He says it like Tommy is stupid, like he's just too damn fucking dumb to get it.
"I get off work at 7." Tommy says. "And I walk here, which takes an hour."
"Don't give me attitude." The foster father scoffs. "Go to your room."
Tommy just does. There's no use continuing to try and argue his point when his foster father is too stupid to comprehend how time works. Does he just fucking expect Tommy to teleport back here? Goddamn.
Tommy closes the door to his room and sits down by his desk, bringing up the books from his backpack and putting them on the desk. He's got homework he has to do, and sleep isn't seen as a necessity by the school system so now he has to stay up all damn night getting through this load of work.
It's hard to stay focused.
He's tired, he keeps nodding off, his feet ache from walking and he keeps thinking about that weirdo.
If that guy turns out to be stalking him now, what the hell is he supposed to do about it? He doubts the authorities will treat it properly, they'll probably brush him off and call him paranoid and advice him to go to a psychiatrist about it.
He gets through most of the homework, and finally he can go to sleep a little after midnight.
Tommy brushes his teeth, does his business, considers taking a shower but doesn't because it's too late in the night and he'd get shouted at, then crawls into bed.
He sets his alarm, plugs his phone into the outlet to let it charge overnight, and goes to sleep.