Through Potions and Books it's still, you isn't it?

Chapter eleven

Tommy had quickly left Eret's, only briefly stopping outside of the shop to check for the car the hero had brought him over. He couldn't risk any of them seeing that he left since he was supposed to work his 'opening shift' (which he would've been about an hour too late anyways but that's beside the point). Luckily, neither the car nor any hero was in sight and so the young teen continued walking down the road.

He hadn't known where he was headed yet, his apartment would probably be the best option but there was nothing to do there apart from watching TV and, frankly, watching the news or whatever mindless shows they played at this time of day until it was time for him to leave for the cloudy café was not something he saw himself doing. Instead, Tommy found himself walking past his apartment complex and the bookstore he worked at, past many more small shops and the little bakery a lovely elderly woman-owned. His body was working on its own without his mind giving it any kind of order, walking past many more buildings he finally spotted where his body was dragging him: the park.

It wasn't an overly big park, hardly bigger than a football field but it was enough for the people around the area. Around a large fountain in the middle of the circular landscaped park were evergreen bushes and flowers (and, to his surprise, some were still blooming despite the season). Small sand paths were laid out in what seemed to be random patterns, always leading to the centre, circling around tall oak trees which were painted in orange and brown and yellow leaves. Occasionally there'd be small dark benches, some on which homeless people would rest on and some completely free for whoever decided to sit on.

The young teen walked down the path and sat down on a bench near the fountain, watching as the water sprinkled over the edges and left a thin mist of water droplets. For a moment he just sat there, eyes closed as he thought about the last twenty-four hours. A lot had happened, the attack, the patrol, the pro hero threatening him on behalf of his colleague (perhaps even more than that considering he was willing to break the hero code to protect him), the Blade and everyone else finding out about the potion incident, the power reveal to Tubbo and whatever happened to his mind this morning at HQ. He scrunched up his face, way too much for just a single long day.

He thought more about the hero's threat, or rather about what the winged hero had said in general. It made sense that Angel was worried about his health, apparently, he didn't mind his vigilante persona and if it was true what the heroes mentioned last night about the potions being lethal at a certain dosage, his concern was more than justified. What didn't make sense, though, was his mind changing within split seconds, threatening him in a low tone, Prime even bruising him, for the winged man to then go back to gentle words. Why make sure he wouldn't die from the after-effects of the potion only to then hurt and potentially kill him in the future?

Distantly, he could hear a small voice in his brain shouting at him to simply think, to go through the conversation again as the answer was literally right there, to make a connection of the very few details he knew but he was too tired to even think about it. He'd keep his distance from the heroes (if they let him that was) and would avoid them on patrol.

He felt conflicted, on the one hand, Angel was a pro hero and a person Tommy had looked up to. On the other hand, the man had threatened and hurt him so really he shouldn't feel anything but resentment towards him. But he didn't. He felt a reasonable amount of fear but also respect. The hero was protecting his colleagues, granted the measures were extreme but he could see where Angel was coming from. He'd probably do the same for Techno or Niki.

Tommy sighed, one arm reaching into the pocket of the hoodie he had put on earlier to find it empty. He opened his eyes and now patted on all pockets of his hoodie and trousers only to find them empty and for a split second he panicked, had he lost his phone? Then he remembered never bringing it with him in the first place and relaxed again, only to groan and let a gloved hand run over his face. Now he couldn't even play games on his phone to pass some time. He once again inspected the gloves which had still not been affected by his ability whatsoever and he found himself once again wondering what kind of material they had been made out of.