𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 ༄

fifteen

Tommy's heart stopped. What. Tartarus couldn't be here. This was the highway. And across from the highway was the dumb 7/11 he used to steal from. And down the street was one of his old foster homes. This couldn't be Tartarus.

Phil didn't notice Tommy's change in demeanor, and pushed through the underbrush to reach the side of the road.

Tommy was still frozen, knees locked in place, air collecting in his lungs like smoke.

The empousa, siren, and stymphalian stood shoulder to shoulder on the stretch of grass just touching the asphalt. Tubbo was at Wilbur's heel, but Tommy was still a ways behind, his brain slowly working to catch up. They were going back. Back to the place where Tommy originated, the place that made him learn to hide and steal and quiet his voice and be anything but the real Tommy. The streets that always had trails of his blood from other kids and the same brick buildings he ran past every day. Fuck no.

His feet stayed glued to the ground. He saw Tubbo glance back with concern in his face, but Tommy couldn't make eye contact. His heart was racing. He didn't understand why they were going this way; why Phil was ignoring him; why no one was telling him what was going on.

"Tommy?" The brunette boy asked tentatively, his body half-turned towards the group.

Tommy did a full-body shake out, wings and all, to clear his head. This was fine... this would be fine. He just wouldn't tell Phil or anyone. It didn't really matter anyways.

It mattered a great deal.

Tommy and Tubbo joined the group to hear them conversing.

"-the 7/11 should be down a bit to the right, if we follow this highway," finished Techno, oblivious to Tommy's uncomfortable expression as he fidgeted in place. Tubbo was more observant, but kept his mouth shut while sending concerned glances towards his friend.

"Let's go then!" Tommy said a little too loud, with forced excitement.

They were off. The Avian, steel wings glinting with equal brightness to the black concrete road. The Warrior, leading the group, steadfast and strong, no air of hesitance or fear. The Performer, clicking his heels together and humming a jaunty tune, almost oblivious to the tension in the air. The Friend, the satyr who stuck by The Golden Boy's side, murmuring reassurances. And The Golden Boy, whose wings gave away his fear as they fluffed up, feathers askew.

Tommy was terrified.

The sun beat down on the pavement as they walked further and further. Tommy pretended he had know idea where they were going as Techno and Phil fumbled for directions. They passed by no one- not a human in sight. This surprised Tommy, for when he used to live here the streets were bustling with smokers and lost children; angry fathers and people high on gods knows what. Tubbo talked to him to pass the time. Tommy knew their special empathy link gave away his anxiety, as well as his bright feathers, but he resigned, knowing there was nothing he could do. He appreciated that Tubbo didn't pressure him to talk, however, because he didn't think he would have the words anyways. Tommy kept his eyes trained on Phil's burlap sack, and honed his hearing to the adult conversation ahead.

"I'm worried about him." Phil.

"Why, because he is lugging around that stupid guitar?" Tech.

"Not Wilbur, Tommy. And don't make fun of your brother, he's very talented."

Tommy could feel Techno roll his eyes from ten feet away.

"Tommy will be fine, Phil. I've said this a thousand times. Please don't make me say it again."

Phil didn't respond. Tommy imagined he was pursing his lips, partly in annoyance, but partly in denial.