Welcome Home, Little Thief (Dark SBI)

Chapter One- Glass Stones

A/N

I had a random idea and decided to impulsively write this all in one sitting so if its not my best work or has some errors in it pretend you didn't see them

BEFORE READING: I do want to clarify that this is a DARK SBI story, so its not going to be the "oh look Tommy gets calmly adopted with no problematic issues" wholesome type fic. This story contains dark themes, unhealthy relationships, and emotional manipulation (all per usual in dark sbi stories). Please read with caution! (individual tws are available in each chapter, though this first one doesn't have any)

Enjoy! <3

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When Tommy first ran, it was on a night with no moon.

It was a strange detail to remember, out of the many ones he'd forgotten, but a disheartening one nonetheless.

He didn't remember the words that his sister shouted while screaming at him to leave. He didn't remember the final letter his best friend had given him. He didn't remember the last thing he'd yelled at them, fueled with energy that wasn't his own, and kicking shut the door behind him. But he remembered looking at the sky, tears running down his cheeks, and seeing the unlit sky from above.

That was what broke him that day, making him fall to his knees and scream at the top of his lungs, his heart shattering into pieces right along with the love of his family.

The sky was dark, with no moonlight to guide him through the disgusting alleyways and malfunctioning street lamps, any brightness the stars may have offered covered by thunderous clouds. All he had was his enhanced vision, stolen from the same sister that had once loved him.

Raindrops had peppered his hair and clothes until the chill seeped right into his skin. A harsh wind blew his soaking wet hair into his face, rain and tears mixing as they both stained his face with invisible scars.

He remembered the splash of the puddles. The distant hooting of an owl. The drunken cheers of a passing group of men as he staggered along the city streets.

He couldn't–wouldn't– remember the red eyes he glimpsed tracking after him in the dark of the alleyways.

He had bigger concerns than an imaginary monster.

Especially when he was the monster everyone should be afraid of.

***

But even monsters could try to live.

One month later, Tommy's attempt seemed to be going well.

He'd picked up a job in Las Nevadas, working under a young woman with curling ram horns and long, curly hair that fell to her waist who took pity on his thin form and offered him a position at her seaside shop.

He'd started staying in a place that wasn't any alleyway, this time taking refuge in an abandoned building only a few miles from his workplace. After doing his best to chase away the bugs and numerous rodents that had eaten away at the wooden supports, it was a liveable place. It was home.

He'd even started getting help from the shop owner. Puffy, as it turns out, used to be a therapist.

Whenever the world tightened around him, squeezing his lungs until they were forced to pop, Puffy was always there, dropping whatever sign she hung on the wall to guide him through his breathing and reminding him that he couldn't hurt anyone.

She even tried to find a solution to his abilities, as she had taken to calling him (she should just call him a monster, as he was), coaxing him into assisting some customers with magic that ran in their blood. They were easy to differentiate from normal people, whether it was by their inhuman appendages or the very feeling you got from being near them, like the air itself was alive and thrumming with untamed electricity. Or, in Tommy's case, as a side effect of his "abilities", the colorful aura that surrounded them like an inviting fog, a bubble to keep their powers contained.