𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇

𝟎𝟑. 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐭

𝐉𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝟏𝟐𝐭𝐡, 𝟏𝟗𝟕𝟖

This wasn't how you pictured your afternoon going—bent over the mess hall floor with a sponge in one hand and a bucket of freezing sudsy water in the other. You knew for a fact that Alice and Arnie were supposed to have started the job that you were doing now, but they obviously decided to take their breaks early.

You considered asking Cindy for help when you saw her arguing with Ziggy on your way in, but they seemed pretty occupied. You knew better than to get in the middle of a Berman sister fight so you offered her your stolen medical supplies and got out of their hair.

That left just you and the empty space beside you where Tommy was supposed to be.

It wasn't like him to be late unless Kurt had given him another demeaning job to do instead. You liked giving Tommy the benefit of the doubt just because you knew that he deserved it. He was sweet. Really sweet. Like, 'help old ladies across the street' sweet. The kids loved him because he didn't talk down to them like Joan and Cindy did. Whatever he had to say, he gave it to them straight.

With a heavy sigh, you got on your hands and knees and started to scrub the permanently stained wooden floor. It wasn't like you were mad about having to work alone. You'd just been looking forward to seeing him after being paired with Arnie at the archery center all day.

Tommy was from Shadyside like you were, only he stayed long after you left. It seemed like forever now, but he still wouldn't let you forget all that time you spent as next-door neighbors in the very back of the very worst neighborhood in town. He thought it made you soulmates. And in some sick and twisted way, it did.

Growing up, Tommy was always there to chase away the older kids who lurked in the alleyways between your houses. When your parents were out late, he was always the one who stepped in with a takeout pizza and refused to leave your house until they eventually came home in the early hours of the morning. He knew you didn't like being alone, so even though you felt too bad to ask, he always stayed.

Right before you moved to Sunnyvale, when everything that happened...happened...he was the first person you went to. Not the police, not the sheriff, not your grandparents. Tommy. It was always Tommy.

"Boo!"

A pair of strong hands reached out of the dark and latched around your waist. You cried out, twisting around to fight the hold of your attacker and knocking over the bucket of water in the process. "Jeez!" you laughed, immediately relaxing when you saw Tommy standing over you with his hands planted triumphantly on his hips.

"Hey—look, I'm sorry," he chuckled, only looking slightly regretful as he offered you a hand up. You didn't hesitate before accepting. Water sloshed over the grimy hardwood floors, rippling as you rose to your feet.

"You're still an asshole," you hissed, biting back a smile as you swatted him on the chest.

He was still laughing when you turned around to assess the damage, picking up the half-empty bucket and dropping your sponge inside. Hopefully, it was enough to finish the job. You didn't feel like walking all the way back to the water pump on the sports field.

Tommy snorted, whisking his shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair out of his face with a quick nod. "Language, Sunny. I don't want to have to report you to Kurt."

You shot him a glare over your shoulder and he held up his hands in mock defense. He was the only one who was allowed to call you Sunnyside-up, or anything similar. When Kurt and the others said it, they only ever meant one thing; you didn't belong. Neither in Sunnyvale nor Shadyside. But when Tommy said it, you knew exactly what he meant.