A Beat for Cherry Bomb

Ch.6 One More Home to add to the List

Why was he going to eat a crusty granola bar that has been sitting there for probably a year when he could just go to a gas station?

So that's just what he did. He made his way out of his own house and set on to the direction of Tubbo's, right down the street. It didn't look like anyone was home right now, so he just took the liberty of letting himself into the garage (What? Tubbo gave him the code so-).

His eyes traveled around the garage he's now seen so many times. The garage littered with scrap metal, screws, tools, and so many other things that Tommy couldn't even name. Was that a bomb?

He didn't care though. The garage was home to his beloved bike. The bike that he always had set to red. The bike that had been with him during his first wipeout. The bike that had ridden around the entirety of the city at 2 in the morning.

His bike.

He walked over, grabbing the helmet that sat atop the seat. He grabbed fingerless gloves out of the helmet (yes he bought them to look cool) and put them on. They fit snug over his calloused knuckles and palms.

He slid his helmet over the mess of blonde hair. He clasped the strap and flipped a switch, causing the lights to start and a voice that said 'power on' rattle through his head.

He flipped up the visor, taking out his phone to start playing music (this was one of the cool helmets that connected to your phone and shit). After placing his phone back into his jacket pocket, he zipped it up to make sure it wouldn't fall out.

He started up his bike, the sudden smell filling his nose as the rumble filled his ears. He looked behind himself as he started to walk the bike out of its resting place.

Once he was out, he made sure to close the garage up and lock the door. He stepped onto his bike once again, getting ready for another ride.

Driving one of these had become second nature to Tommy. His hands flowed around the handles, knowing where every little thing was without looking. Once he was onto the road and looking in the direction he wanted to go, he was off.

He was off, the only trace he had been there was the echoing sound of his bike, the faint smell of motors, and a slight tire mark he had just left behind.

He was off and on his way home.

—

He arrived at the chain link fence that bordered the old track. It was open just enough where he was able to get through just fine.

As he slowly drove up to where he saw everyone, his eyes wandered around the entire place from under his visor. His eyes landed on everything from benches, to concessions, to a booth that had the word 'BETS' pasted in bright red letters. All of the things around were new, contrasting to how you would think an illegal racing track would look (it was probably because Esempi Racing wanted to make it an enjoyable experience).

Looking forwards, he saw Tubbo aggressively waving at him. He lifted up his hand in a small salute before speeding up once again. He did a skid stop (it's become his thing) right next to Tubbo, spraying the dry dirt up against the concrete wall behind them.

He quickly pulled out his phone to pause his music just in time to hear, "Tommy! TommyTommy Tommy !" coming from the brunette's mouth. The blonde gave a light chuckle in response, his helmet softly bouncing up and down.

He shut off his bike, making sure the kickstand was out, before stepping off onto the hard ground. He turned towards his bike to take off his helmet, his mess of hair flopping against his forehead (it had grown out quite a bit; it was starting to look like one of those cool mullets).