Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Her footsteps pounded in her ears, or was it her heart? She couldn’t tell, not that it really mattered. She wasn’t very excited to start school. School meant people; Lots of them. She needed to go though, if she wanted to graduate and go to college. Get out of this stupid system, this country.  

She was excited for the classes she picked, some of them. Art and photography, she had wanted to study sign language too, but the school didn’t offer that, and she wasn’t smart enough for a second language. 

She was nearing the top of the last hill, once she’d climbed it, she’d be at the town’s elementary school and from there the buses would come and take them to their actual school. There were only around five hundred people in this town, she thought it was a lot, but her new high school had at least double the number of students. The buses wouldn’t come and pick her up from her ‘home’, so she had to walk across town to get to her stop. 

Which was a lot of walking for an asthmatic. She wasn’t even allowed to keep her inhaler on her.  

She paused to settle her breathing. She made sure her clothes were all good and her mask was up. Her hair felt frizzy and puffy, and she felt like everyone would notice. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail in an effort to reduce her anxiety. 

She walked the last little bit to the bus stop, there were already a dozen kids waiting. They looked at her as she walked up, and she looked down. She didn’t enjoy being seen. At the very least, she knew she was in the right spot.  

She sat down on the edge of the sidewalk and stared at the sky. She was facing the rising sun, explosions of color shot across the sky. Pink oranges and butter yellow. She liked the sky, it was always changing, different, new, but somehow the only constant in her confusing life. 

Oh, she was getting poetic now.    

Rather than just watch the sky---no matter how pretty, she decided to look around. To people watch, get a feeling for the kids she’d probably be spending who-knows-how-long she’d know them. More had shown up after she did, most had formed small groups of three or four, it made sense that everyone already had friends, they had lived with eachother for a long time after all.  

There was another kid sitting alone, but she didn’t want to approach him. He seemed like he didn’t want to be bothered, listening to headphones with his head looking down at his phone.  

The buses pulled up after a few minutes of sitting there. She got on the first one she saw, number 25.  

Her first day was mostly a blur, a whirlwind of people and noise. She had almost none of what she needed for classes; she’d have to ask her fosters about things. They probably wouldn’t anyways, nobody was too keen on spending money for a kid they hardly knew.  

She thought about it on the way back too, the placement wasn’t too bad. She didn’t have a phone or her headphones anymore, but it wasn’t horrid. They fed her and let her have some entertainment.  

Still, they were first time parents, and for someone as messed up as she is, it was stressful. Everything they did to help, or ‘bond’ with her kind of made it worse. She felt the weight of their expectations every second. It'd be better if there were more children, more noise, chaos, so she could blend into the background and be forgotten.  

She stared out her window at the crowd of kids flooding the area surrounding the buses, it was an organized sort of chaos. Everyone knew where they were going, what they were doing, and they didn’t pay any attention to the people around them.  

They all walked off, and the space out her window was mostly clear. Someone threw their backpack down on the seat beside her and sat down. She picked up her bag and set it on her lap before scooching over as far as she could, she didn’t want to be in their space.  

The person next to her didn’t say anything to her, they instead just kept talking to the guy in the seat beside them. She looked back out her window as the buses started rolling out of the loop, she watched the motion-blurred scene out her window for the entire ride back. Counting the corn fields as she passed. 

She didn’t want to cry, yet her eyes didn’t seem to notice. She wiped her face with her sleeve, but it didn’t make it better as fresh tears fell to replace them. It wasn’t the first time she’d cried in a transport car, but it didn’t make it any less embarrassing.  

Riding with a stranger was always awkward enough, but sniffling in the backseat while they pretended she didn’t exist wasn’t how she wanted to spend today.  

She had known today was coming, they were growing distant, disappointed. Less willing to spend money on her, always postponing things, it had gotten to the point where she barely spent any time out of the house. And that was only when she had to go, when both of them were gone, since they refused to leave her alone.  

It hurt, the fact she wasn’t even allowed inside again. All her stuff had been packed up, three measly trash bags and a cardboard box. Her camera case thrown haphazardly on top.  

She was nothing. It wasn’t hard to see that, all the past three months added up to was three trash bags and a camera without film.  

She didn’t get to say goodbye to their cat—her cat. She had been the one to take care of him and play with him and she’d been the one who’d picked him out of the three kittens. Still, she didn’t get to pet him one last time, and she knew she never would again.  

They didn’t even give her a complete answer as to why she was leaving, only a ‘I'm sorry, you were too much’. She didn’t know where she was headed, the driver told her she was going to JFS, her caseworker’s office, but she knew nothing past that. 

She tried imagining the worst place she could think of. If she went in expecting the worst, she’d either be prepared or pleasantly surprised.  

She watched the houses spread out as she passed them, getting bigger and bigger. The driveways growing longer, the grass greener. And then they just stopped, and she rode through the forest for a while before it too faded away and she was left with the familiar sight of cornfields.

“Stop it,” Tubbo started, startling Tommy from his thoughts. 

“Stop what?” he asked, sitting up on his unmade bed.  

“Stop thinking. It's dangerous.”  

“What, Toby, you think I'm planning world domination?” Tommy shook his head and clucked his tongue. “You and I both know you’ll be the mastermind behind my success.” 

Tubbo sighed, “No dumbass. You’re worrying about something; you have that look on your face. Like you’re constipated.” 

“Oh, come on Bo, how could you be so mean to me? We’re like brothers you know,” he cried dramatically, his performance worth an Oscar. Or a Grammy? And Emmie? He had no clue, not that it mattered.  

“What were you thinking about?” Tubbo asked.  

“Nothing, nothing, my friend, just women.”  

Tubbo made eye contact with Tommy for a moment before sighing. “Is this about the new kid?”  

Tommy said ‘no,’ a little too quickly; Tubbo stayed silent. “God dammit Toby, how do you always know what I'm thinking? What are you, some freak? You could make a lot of money with that.”  

“No, you’re just predictable.” He held up a hand to catch the pillow that Tommy hadn’t even thrown yet.  

“No, you’re just predictable,” Tommy mocked in a terrible high-pitched imitation of Tubbo’s voice. Tommy considered jumping out the window—onto the roof of course, he wasn’t gonna go that far—just to be unpredictable, but then he decided it took too much effort and he wanted potato chips.  

“What am I thinking right now?” Tommy asked, shifting his position so that he was now sitting cross-legged.  

“you’re probably trying to come up with something unpredictable, therefore making it predictable.”  

“Could you predict that I was going to predict that you would predict me trying to be unpredictable therefore predicting me jumping out a window, but I predicted you would predict it, so I didn’t therefore making me unpredictable.”  

“I'm gonna go get a drink,” Tubbo said, heading towards the door.  

“Mm, alcohol yum count me in.”  

“I doubt you’ve ever even touched a bottle before in your life.”  

“Oh, Bo, that’s where you're wrong, I have touched so many bottles, all the bottles. Every single one.” 

The two of them had just made it to the top of the steps when the doorbell rang, they looked at each other for a second. And then took off down the stairs, each racing to get their first, Tommy tried jumping the last few steps, and he did, only he lost his balance and fell face first into the door.  

He took a second to regain his balance, and with his hand over his nose he pulled open the door. The caseworker looked normal enough at first glance, but the girl, the second he looked at her, slammed the door shut. He had to look up to see her, and that was wrong. He couldn’t let Phil let this girl into his home.  

Unfortunately, Phil didn’t agree with his decision so shut the door, and before Tommy could warn him, he pushed past and opened the door. He didn’t seem in the least bit bothered by how tall she was, despite the fact that she was probably a foot taller than him. 

Tommy and Tubbo followed Phil, the caseworker, and the girl into the living room. He figured Wilbur would be somewhere listening, or he didn’t even know they knocked. 

Phil and the caseworker sat down but the three kids remained standing, Tubbo and Tommy were standing behind Phil on the couch, the way a bodyguard would during an important meeting, subconsciously trying to intimidate her. The girl, however, didn’t seem to know anything she was doing, she was waiting for instructions. 

“This is Emilia, she goes by Emma. My name is Marissa Baker and I'm her caseworker. I assume you’re Phil?”  

Phil nodded.  

She looked at Tommy and Tubbo. “Why don’t you send your boys off, I'm sure they’d much rather do something fun.”  

Tommy opened his mouth to say something, but Phil was faster. “They can stay if they want to. It's been a while since we got a new foster, I'm sure they’re curious. If they get bored, they can leave if they want to but I don’t see any harm in letting them stay.” 

Marissa nodded, but she seemed irritated, like they were an inconvenience to her.  

“You can sit down if you’d like,” Phil said, and Emma sat down cross-legged on the floor, clearly what none of them were expecting. She pulled at some threads on the sleeve of her hoodie, she seemed to be trying to block out the world.  

“She’s a little difficult at first, but I'm sure you’ll get the hang of it. Emma, why don’t you introduce yourself?” 

She went still for a second, before lifting her head and looking at everyone with wide eyes.  “I-” she tried, “I’m Emma. Hello.” She ducked her head, and Marissa didn’t seem pleased, but she didn’t press it. Emma was obviously relieved.  

“Tommy, Tubbo, why don’t you show her around?” Phil asked, turning around to look at them. 

They took her upstairs, but instead of showing her around, they sat down on the steps and listened to the conversation downstairs.  

“Thank you for taking her, she’s a little bit of a handful, and nobody else wanted her with all those issues—they went running once they saw her paperwork.” She finished off that sentence with a little laugh, like it was something funny. “I saw the files of the other kids you’d taken, they seemed troubled too. You were really our last hope before a group home or a residential.” 

“You’re welcome, and I'm glad we could take her before she was sent somewhere else, I've heard the horror stories.”  

“No, no, they’re not so bad. Most of them,” Marissa answered with a dismissive tone. “Now, Emma, I've only recently been handed her case—the hardest month of my career I tell you—and most of this happened before then, but this is what I've gathered from her file.”  

If any of what Marissa said bothered the girl, she didn’t show it, but it made Tommy really fucking angry. Who was this woman to come into his home and just be so fucking disrespectful towards a kid, a literal child. He glanced at Tubbo, who seemed to be discreetly staring at her, using his hair to hide it. Not that she’d notice though, she was too busy staring a hole through the step below her, her hair falling in tangled waves around her face.  

“She’s only been in the system for about a year now, and once her case was opened her mother immediately lost custody, an unfit parent if I've ever seen one. We haven’t gotten much out of her in regard to her case, but we can only assume it wasn’t good. She's got quite the list of diagnoses, hold on, let me find the page I don’t want to get this wrong—ah, here we go, Major Depressive Disorder with anxiety and psychosis, autism spectrum disorder—don’t worry, it isn’t so bad, she’s almost normal, and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. 

“Not the worst list I've ever seen, but the most difficult of the ones I've handled. She's a good kid—most of the time, and that makes it harder to find homes, especially since she’s a teenager. No one wants teens, they want children. At least if they're trouble, we have group homes and facilities for that. But we can’t put her there, it’d be like sticking a kitten in a cage of hungry tigers; they'll tear her apart.”  

He didn’t like the way she talked about her cases, she made it sound like she just made money off ‘easy’ cases, stuck them out of sight and just left them there to rot.  

Phil said something Tommy didn’t understand, and he didn’t care to really. He was too busy watching the girl listen to their conversation, the way she reacted by not reacting. Like she was used to it, people used to talk about her like that. Like she’s unwanted, inhuman, a ‘kitten’.  

She just sat there, picking strings out of the sleeve of her dark blue hoodie, her nails covered (or not covered) in chipped blue nail polish, Tommy couldn’t think of the name, not that it mattered.  

Tubbo tapped him on the shoulder a few minutes later, she’s leaving, he signed. Tommy got up into a crouch, and tapped the girl on the shoulder, she looked up with a jerk. He pointed up to the top of the stairs, where Tubbo was now, and started crawling up.  

Once they were safely out of sight, Tommy and Tubbo stood up, after a second of hesitation Emma did too.  

Tommy leaned around the corner of the stairway, peeking down to see if Marissa had left. She had, but Phil hadn’t. He was turning around when he caught Tommy snooping, he quickly whipped his head back and dashed into his room, Tubbo moved to follow and gestured for Emma to do the same.  

Tommy shut and locked the door behind them, and pressed an ear to the door to listen if Phil followed them. He didn’t. He relaxed with a sigh.  

Tubbo started laughing, and Tommy was too.  

“Why the fuck were we running?” Tubbo asked, laughing.  

“He saw me!” Tommy shrieked, “you should’ve seen the look in his eyes bigman, it was like he was gonna fucking sprint up those stairs so fast and grab me like shit.” In reality Phil had just smiled and shook his head, but there wasn’t any harm in adding some spice.  

Or maybe there was, the girl was obviously buying the story. Tommy forgot she didn’t know Phil; she didn’t know he was joking. 

“He wasn’t actually going to run after me,” Tommy said, trying to reassure her. “I was just joking, Phil'd never do that. I promise. He'd never hurt a fly, literally, I've watched him trap one with a cup and paper and let it outside." Tommy had, he wasn’t lying, it was something he frequently made fun of Phil for.  

About an hour later the brunette shouted up the stairs to let them know that dinner was ready. They were in the middle of a make-shift version of Spoons, playing with crayons and a normal card deck rather than the actual game.  

Emma kept losing, her reactions weren’t fast enough. Luckily for her, they just restarted the round every time she lost, rather than playing eliminations. She wasn’t very good at the game, she wanted to blame it on the fact it was her first time playing but even she could tell she was just slow.  

They played one last game—one she lost (again), before they all got up and followed Blondie out of the door and down the stairs. She waited for everyone to mostly be seated before picking a seat, making sure she wasn’t taking one somebody else wanted.  

She ended up sitting in the seat with her back against the wall, across from the bench where the two boys sat. According to the brunette (who was sitting at the head—foot? There were two on the ends—of the table. The furthest away from her), Phil was out and wouldn’t be back until eight, so they just went ahead and ate.  

He had made chicken fried rice, which was really good, except for the peas, carrots and corn he had added. For dessert they had leftover brownies, they were a little burnt but she wasn’t going to complain. Blondie and Half-blonde added chocolate frosting to the top of theirs, she was too anxious to ask for some.  

She remembered the way the brunette had looked at the vegetables still left on her plate; he didn’t say anything, so she assumed it was okay. He didn’t seem mad, just more curious, confused. He didn’t ask though, so she didn’t explain. It was probably obvious though, there wasn’t really any explanation except she didn’t like the texture.  

Blondie led them back upstairs, he and Half-blonde went into their room, but since they didn’t invite her, she didn’t follow.  

It was only then that she remembered they had never given her a tour or their names, and she wasn’t sure which room was hers. There were so many doors upstairs (four if you don’t count the boys’ room), and she didn’t want to go peeking into all of them.  

She decided to head back downstairs, unsure if she was going to ask the brunette which was hers, or if she was just going down to hide.  

Nobody was in the kitchen when she got down, but there were still dishes in the sink. She didn’t know where the brunette was, she couldn’t hear any noise from the first floor. She decided to just go ahead and wash the dishes in the sink, she hoped she wouldn’t get in trouble for helping.  

She was just rinsing off the last fork when she heard the back door shut. The brunette walked into the kitchen, and she froze like a deer in headlights, like he had just caught her in a crime, rather than washing the dishes.  

“Oh, thank god.” He smiled at her, “I wasn’t looking forward to those” 

She shut the water off and dried her hands on the towel near the sink.  

She didn’t know how to ask, it seemed stupid that she didn’t know where her own room was. She tangled her fingers together and looked down at the floor. “he-hey, uhm, which is-is my room? Sorry.”  

“Did they not give you a tour? Idiots. It's late, so I won’t give you the full thing, just the necessities.”  

She nodded.  

“This is the kitchen. Obviously,” he said, as he gestured for her to follow him.  

He paused on the top of the steps, and she could smell cigarette smoke floating around him, clinging to his clothes. “That at the end of the hall is the bathroom, then next to it is Phil’s room. The boys’, but I think you know that. The one next to that, down there is yours. And the room across is mine.”  

She nodded.  

He turned and made his way back down the stairs. She was left alone at the top for a second before she made her way down the hall. She stopped in front of her door, afraid to open it. But she knew she couldn’t stay standing there all night, she touched her hand to the knob softly, like she was afraid it’d burn her. It didn’t.  

She gripped the knob harder, and turned it, pushing open the door. The room was pitch black, she was afraid to even reach her hand in and turn the switch; she did anyway, deciding that whatever could be hiding in her room, being embarrassed by being caught just standing there.  

The light turned on; it was one of those semi-fancy four bulb ceiling fans. A pseudo chandelier. One of the light bulbs had blown out though, and she could tell it was really dusty. Like it had been a long time since anyone had slept in this room. It was sad looking at it, empty.  

Her bags were there, she couldn’t remember when they had gotten there. She shut the door behind her and sat down on her knees pulling one of the bags close. Clothes, she stacked them in a pile on the closet floor, too lazy to hang them up on the hangers.  

It made her sad that almost everything she had was just clothes. She had her camera, a sketch book, some mechanical pencils and a stuffed cat. 

It was a cute cat; she couldn’t remember where she got it from though. It was half black and half white, with a green eye and a brown eye. She had named it Enderchest, but she couldn’t remember why she picked that name either.  

She sat Enderchest on her bed and threw her small fuzzy blanket up there too. She didn’t have a pillow, but she didn’t really need one. Besides, if it got too uncomfortable, she could sneak downstairs and grab one off the couch.  

There wasn’t any furniture in her room besides the bed, and a shelf in her closet but she didn’t really count that.  

She couldn’t think of anything left to do before sleeping, besides brushing her teeth but she hadn’t found any hygiene stuff in her things. She hoped they would take her out tomorrow to get the things she needed. She pulled the string hanging from the light, not bothering to walk across the room to reach the light switch.  

He wasn’t quite sure what he thought of the new girl, she was quiet. She always seemed to be trying to make herself disappear, something probably difficult for someone that tall. Every time he looked at her, she was folding in on herself, and for some reason that reminded him of a picture he’d once seen. If a hotdog eats itself, will it get bigger or smaller?  

He didn’t know the answer, not that it mattered. A hot dog couldn’t eat itself; it can’t eat. “Hey,” he asked into the darkness, he knew Tommy was still awake because of the faint glow against the wall behind his bed.  

 Tommy replied with an “Mm?” sound.  

“If a hot dog eats itself, will it get bigger or smaller?” 

“It’ll stay the same dumbass. You should know this, matter cannot be created nor destroyed. Idiot.” 

“Thanks asshole,” Tubbo said, glad Tommy didn’t question the weird question. He was probably used to them by now, Tubbo asked a lot of them. “What time is it?” he wondered.  

“11:03.” 

“Great. Let me know when it’s eleven-eleven, so I can wish for your downfall in cock.” 

“You know I'll never lose; I love the clash and the clash loves me.”  

“Yeah sure. Just wait until I make an account.” 

“you’ve made like seven. And you’ve never gotten past townhall three.”  

“Okay. Well. The upgrades take too long.” 

“Not if you got the shiny green stuff.” 

“You only like it because it's pay-to-win.” 

“Sucks for the poor, I guess. Big T’s got an old man’s credit card. Losers.” 

“What time is it?” Tubbo asked again. 

“Time to grow some balls.” 

“I've already got balls. And they're better than yours.”  

“Stop talking about your face balls dickhead, I mean actual dick balls not eyeballs.”  

“You're just jealous.” 

“Never. Shit eyes.” 

“They’re not even brown.” 

“Yeah, you’re jealous of my luscious luscious blue eyes.” 

“Yeah? And we both know you're jealous of my lashes. You've been reading too many novels with pretty boy long eyelashes, strong bad boy with soft heart love interests.” 

“You’ve been reading too many history books.” 

“Did you know that the president with the best handwriting was the only unmarried one. Proves asexual people are just better in general.”  

“One, he could’ve just been a loser virgin. Two, your handwriting sucks ass.” 

“Did you know President William Taft got stuck in a bathtub because he was so fucking large?” 

“No but now I do. Sounds like a thing a William would do,” he said the name with a mocking tone. Tubbo could guess who he was referring to and didn’t think it seemed like anything Wilbur would do.  

“Do you ever look at somebody and wonder ‘what's going on in their mind’?” Tubbo asked.  

“Yeah. You. How the fuck do you know all that shit. Do you have little pieces of paper with facts on them stuck in your hair? If I shook you, would they all fall out like dandruff??” 

“I dunno, I guess you’ll have to see.” 

“You know, it’s amazing in my head. So many women and smarts. It's great.”  

“The only women you’ll get are imaginary Tommy. Nobody wants to touch your ass.” 

“Everyone wants to touch my ass.” 

“What ass.” 

“You know Toe, you suck.” 

“At least I don’t suck ass.” 

“Ew. Be appropriate, you're a child.” 

“I'm literally older than you.” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“You're illegal, you’ve got a fake ID. You're actually just like twelve but I'm nice and pretend you aren't. Explains why you're so short.” 

“I'm literally slightly below average. You’re just a giant.” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

They were both silent for a minute, Tubbo realized that Tommy had turned up his phone, he was now forced to listen as he absolutely destroyed some poor village in clash of clans. Despite what Tubbo might say, Tommy was actually really good, Tubbo just didn’t want to admit it. Pay to win was definitely a factor though, Tommy had no patience, waiting for anything killed him.  

He wondered how much money Tommy had spent on the game, if Phil even noticed the money was gone. 

Tubbo was cramped. Somehow, he’d let Tommy convince him to crawl under Wil’s bed and prank him as he tried to get up. 

Tommy had gotten up even earlier than Tubbo, which was a miracle since Tommy refused to wake up before nine. He was getting impatient, and he’d forgotten to grab his phone. Tommy had his of course, the thing was practically glued to his hand, though at least he wasn’t playing his game.  

He instead sat scrolling through his 99+ YouTube notifications. It always bothered Tubbo that Tommy refused to clear his notifications, his recently used apps, his safari tabs. It felt so messy, so clumsy. All those notifications, each saying a different thing, each marking something to do, the possibilities were endless and that was scary to him.  

Even so, he reached over and yanked the phone from Tommy, determined to call and wake up Wilbur. Because once Wilbur was awake, he couldn’t just stay in bed. Tubbo had heard him complain about how bad he needed to go every single morning since he had gotten here.  

Tubbo found his way to his contact and pressed call, jumping slightly when the ringtone went off. He was used to the dead silence, so the music coming from above him was jarring. Wilbur made a noise, and then the music shut off. He had hung up.  

Tubbo called again. And again, until finally Wilbur answered. Tubbo hung up before he could finish his “hello-”. Wilbur cursed above them, and the two under the bed were shaking with silent laughter. The bed creaked above them as Wilbur shifted and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His bare feet swinging inches from Tubbo’s face, at least they didn’t stink like Tommy’s probably did. Wilbur spent about an hour and a half in the shower regularly, Tubbo always wondered what he did in there.  

When Wilbur stood up, both Tommy and Tubbo reached for his ankles as he started to take a step, and then they yanked them. Causing Wilbur to fall flat on his face, a pretty impressive belly flop for someone not at a pool.  

Tommy shimmied out pretty quickly and crawled on top of Wilbur. Tubbo had a little bit more of a struggle, he had to crawl sideways first to avoid shoving his face into Wil’s ass.  

“Get the fuck off me you little gremlin bitch,” Wilbur was saying, “I need to pi-,” he didn’t manage to finish before Tommy clamped a hand over his mouth.  

He quickly yanked it away shouting, “did you just fucking lick me?!” he wiped his hand over and over again into Wilbur's shirt. “Maybe I should spit on you bitch. See how you like saliva.” 

Tubbo shuddered, he hated that word.  

“Come on Wilbitch, let's go make some breakfast.” 

“May I piss first y0ur majesty?” 

“No.” 

“Asshole.” 

“I'd rather be an asshole than a whole ass.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Ew, no, gross we’re like brothers.” 

“Don’t say that I will cry.” 

“Sob bitch.” 

Tommy let Wilbur get up, and they both walked out of the room, Tommy shoving Wil to be the first through the doorway. Tubbo turned around and grabbed Wilbur's phone off the charger and shoved it down his sports bra, before following them downstairs.  

Emma watched through her slightly open door as Blondie and the brunette walked out of the brunette’s room, shoving each other playfully. She saw half-blonde stick a phone down his shirt like some girls do when they put them in their bras, but he shouldn’t have had anything to keep it there.  

She waited until she heard the half-blonde's door shut to fully open hers, she really needed to know what time it was. It was making her anxious, it felt like she lost control.  

She knew there was a clock on the microwave, so that’s where she was headed. The kitchen.  

She was about to step out then she heard the bathroom door open, and the brunette muttered something to himself. Her heart pounded. She watched from the doorframe as he turned and went down the stairs.

She took a tentative step out into the hallway, right as half-blonde's doorknob turned. Terrified, and not thinking properly she dashed forward into the nearest hiding spot—through the brunette’s open door. Once she realized what she had done, she almost went into a panic attack. What if they found her here?  

She heard the bathroom door shut from down the hallway, and after a second of hesitation she peeked out into the hall. No sign of anyone, she immediately dashed straight across the hall and back into her own room. She forgot to shut the door, but that was alright, she hid herself in the closet under her clothes. Hoping they wouldn’t look for her there, and she was too scared to reveal herself for even a second. Getting back up to close the bedroom door would be impossible.  

She sat there trying to make her breathing as shallow as possible, so the clothes above her didn’t move too much but with each heartbeat her breathing was getting faster and faster. And soon she couldn’t contain her panicked gasps.  

She sobbed as wave after wave of fear and anxiety crashed down on her, drowning her. She gasped for air but couldn’t keep her head above the water. She wished she could just turn it off.  

Slowly, ever so slowly she managed to calm herself down. She imagined she was bagging up the feelings and throwing them into a dark room. She shut the door and she locked it, throwing away the key. She didn’t want to feel like that. Never again.  

She sat there under the comforting weight of her clothes, her breathing normal, her eyes shut. She inhaled the smell and was comforted by it, it was familiar, it was her. She was peaceful, she wasn’t even anxious about the time anymore. She just existed. 

Safe and sound, small and hidden. She decided to stay like that for a while. 

Chapter Text

They hated taking showers, they hated being naked in general.  

They reached for the knob to turn the water off, feeling the last few drops land on their head. Now that the warm water was no longer running, they felt the cold air raise goosebumps on their skin.  

They stepped out from around the curtain, not even bothering to grab a towel. They stared at their foggy silhouette in the mirror as the water dripped from them and puddled on the floor. They'd clean it up later.  

Normally they avoided taking showers for as long as possible and still not be gross. But they had taken one today because they wanted to feel clean, especially while they were living with someone new.  

They took a deep breath before sliding their binder over their head, their last free breath for another eight hours. They hated the rules for binding, but they wanted to get top surgery when they were older, and they knew that if they broke the rules now, they’d be stuck with their chest for the rest of their life.  

When they opened the door to the bathroom all the steam rushed out, and cool air rushed in. They took a breath, enjoying the lack of water in the air. They stepped out, carrying their dirty clothes back to their room and they tossed them in their basket.  

They shoved Wilbur's phone back in their binder and put their own in their pocket. Walking out into the hallway, they could hear Wilbur and Tommy arguing downstairs. Rather than dealing with that, they decided to go check on the girl.  

It was almost eleven, and Tubbo would be a little surprised if she were still asleep by now. Though, they've known Tommy to sleep longer.  

Her door was open. They peeked in but they didn’t see anyone in there, they assumed she must be downstairs. They sighed before heading down, they felt bad for her, having to listen to Tommy first thing in the morning.  

They walked into the kitchen with no sign of her, just the smell of burnt pancakes and the sound of Tommy's cursing.  

Wilbur laughed. “I told you you couldn’t make pancakes.”  

“Shut the fuck up asshole bitch-ass motherfucker,” Tommy replied, coughing on the smoke now rising from the black mess in the middle of the pan. Wilbur lifted the pan off the stove before the fire alarm could go off and threw the mess into the trash.  

Tubbo turned around and left the kitchen, clearly there wasn’t one brain cell in the room, and they felt the girl certainly had some. Maybe too many, she seemed to think too much.  

They did a loop around the first floor, finding no sign of her. They peeked out onto the back porch, nothing. They cursed, remembering stories some foster sibling had told them of kids running away. They made their way back to the kitchen.  

“Hey, so, uh, the girl, right? I can’t find her.” 

Tommy and Wilbur stopped their bickering to stare at them.  

“Well shit,” Wilbur said, “I guess that means we need to go look harder?”  

“Should I call Phil?”  

“Later, he’s busy and I don’t want to bother him. She could just be hiding under her bed or something.”  

Tubbo nodded.  

“Let's start with her room?” Wilbur said, it was supposed to be a statement, but it sounded more like a question. “If she ran, maybe she left a note.” 

“Doubt it,” Tommy said, “think about it, most people only leave notes if they have a reason to run or if they care about who they're running from. She just got here; she wouldn’t bother. At least, I wouldn’t.” 

“Good point,” Tubbo replied, “but let's check anyways.” 

He nodded and they made their way upstairs.  

Tubbo hesitated for a moment as they stood in front of her door, before knocking on the doorframe. “Hey,” they called out, “we’re gonna come in, okay?”  

No answer, not that they expected one. 

The three of them walked through, the room was almost completely empty except for her bed and a few bags scattered on the floor. Tubbo ducked slightly to see under the bed, nothing.  

“There aren’t very many hiding spots in here,” Tommy remarked as he opened the closet door. Tubbo couldn’t see much from behind Tommy, but that looked mostly empty too, except for a very large pile of clothes on the floor.  

“That's a lot of clothes,” they said, “you think someone could fit under there?” 

“Probably.”  

“Well let’s see then,” Wil said. 

“You want me to like,” Tommy paused, “just jump on it?” 

“No, absolutely not,” Tubbo said, making their way around Tommy, “what if she really is under there?” 

“Well, it’d be her fault I guess; she’s probably listening to us right now. Hey!” he shouted, cupping his hands over his mouth and looking down at the pile. “Girl! Come out in three... Two...”  

Tubbo clamped their hand over his mouth. “he’s not really gonna jump on you I swear,” they said, feeling dumb for talking to a pile of clothes.  

“What if she isn’t even under there and we're just standing here looking crazy talking to clothing?” Tommy asked.  

“That would suck I guess,” Tubbo replied as they carefully started pulling the top layer of clothes off, they reached again and brushed what felt like hair. They immediately jerked their hand back and rubbed it off on their shirt.  “Think I found a head,” they said, “I felt hair.” 

“Well, that solves it,” Tommy said, “let's go eat.” 

“Is she okay?” Wil asked from behind Tommy.  

“I dunno, she didn’t react to me touching her.”  

“Here, let me through.” 

Tommy stepped back out the doorway and Tubbo pressed themself against the closet wall, Wilbur crouched down and carefully picked the rest of the clothes surrounding her head away. 

“Hello? Emma, can you hear me?” he asked.  

Her head was leaning back, her eyes were shut, and her breathing was peaceful. She looked almost like she was sleeping.  

“Can I touch you?”  

No answer.  

“I'm going to shake your shoulder, okay? Can you let me know you're okay?”  

Her head lulled to the side when Wilbur shook her shoulder, her neck twisted at an uncomfortable angle. Still, other than that she showed no reaction.  

He sighed, “Tommy, can you run and grab your deodorant? The one that stinks?” 

“Are you fucking crazy? What do you need my deodorant for?” he asked.  

“Just do it.”  

Tommy shook his head and disappeared. Tubbo thought they might know what Wilbur was thinking, the deodorant was strong, so strong that it could burn your nose at times.  

When Tommy came back Wilbur took the can from him and sprayed it on his finger, long enough that beads of moisture formed. He made a face from the smell, Tubbo could already feel a cough forming in their throat.  

He held his finger under her nose for a moment before her face scrunched up. She coughed and blinked her eyes open. She stared at them for a second, Wilbur on his knees before her, Tubbo pressed in the corner and Tommy staring down at her, before she said simply, “my feet are numb.” 

Tubbo heard Tommy mutter a “what the fuck?”  

She looked down at the clothes pile surrounding her and sighed. She tried stretching her legs out, but they were too long and the closet too small.  

She looked back up at the three of them, and asked “what?”  

It sounded like Wilbur tried to say something, but it came out only in a squeak. He stood up and asked, “Do you need help?”  

She nodded her head, and Wilbur offered her a hand. When she stood, she wobbled like a newborn fawn, unable to stand on her own. Tubbo supposed her feet were still numb.  

Wilbur walked them out of the closet and led her to her bed. Tubbo followed behind, unwilling to just stay in the closet. Wilbur shifted on his feet awkwardly, something Tubbo’s rarely seen him do.  

“Well, I, uhm, I'm making pancakes for breakfast if you want any.”  

She looked like she considered it for a moment before shaking her head, “I'm not hungry.”  

Wilbur nodded, “I guess that’s that, we’ll leave you alone now. Uh, glad you're, okay?”  

She nodded and the three of them left the room.  Tubbo shut the door on their way out, because they hated it when someone left the door open.

“That was so fucking weird,” Wilbur said, a slight hint of disbelief to his tone. “What the fuck happened? Who the fuck is this kid?”  

“No idea bigman, but I do know one thing. I’m hungry," Tommy said, redirecting the conversation.  

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah,” he stopped at the top of the steps. “Did we remember to turn the stove off?” he asked. 

Tommy looked at him. They just stared at each other for a moment before taking off running down the steps. Tubbo sighed, they could already tell it was going to be a long day.  

Tommy stared at the mess he and Wilbur had made in the kitchen, the smell of burnt pancakes filled the house. He was a little embarrassed, stinking up the whole house when there's someone new? He didn’t know the word to describe it, pathetic? Rude? 

You can never have a second first impression. He heard that somewhere, what if she was up there sitting in her room judging him? What if from now on she always thinks about burnt pancakes when she looks at him?

That would suck, wouldn't it. If her mind was filled with burnt pancakes she would never realize how awesome he is. Then he would be stuck living with someone who thought he was less than mediocre, and that wouldn't work. 

He shook his head, he was thinking too much, Tubbo would laugh, him spiraling over pancakes? Laughable. 

He didn’t know where Wilbur was, maybe to get some Febreze, because the house desperately needed some. And some opened windows. Wil could do that, Tommy was going to head over to Techno’s, he didn’t know what else to do. Tubbo was nowhere to be found (mostly because Tommy hadn’t looked for him), and he didn’t really feel comfortable with a stranger in the home, probably judging him. 

He opened the door to the back porch and climbed down, he undid the combination for his bike and he walked it along the side of the house to the street. 

The route to Techno’s wasn’t busy, so he felt comfortable riding down the center of the street swerving like a maniac until he found his balance. 

He always preferred riding in the road, much more space, much more forgiving. No bumps in the sidewalk, or tree branches right at head height. Just cars, cars that he was good at avoiding, never once in his entire career of riding in the road has he so much as scratched (someone else’s) vehicle.

He stood up as he rode down the steep hill, his favorite bit of riding to Techno’s (and his least favorite bit on the way back). 

He slowed down at the end, careful not to go shooting down the street. He had to check there were no cars first, the last thing he wanted to do was get hit, that’d be unfortunate, exhausting, and expensive. 

After making sure it was safe to cross, he pushed off and sped down the street.

He could feel the sweat making his hair stick to his neck, one of the most uncomfortable feelings in his opinion. 

He was very excited to hang out on Techno’s couch, aircon on full blast, eating those stupid popsicles that kinda suck and give the corners of your mouth paper cuts (plastic cuts?). 

 He pulled into the driveway and locked his bike to the railing, before climbing the creaky wooden (and suspicious) staircase up to Techno’s floor. 

Wil didn’t approve of Tech’s choice of housing, he said it was sketchy, and sketchy it was but sketchiness added character. 

It was on the poorer side of town, but the rent was cheap and Techno said his downstairs neighbors were nice (which Tommy thought meant they minded their business because there is no way Techno would talk to anyone he didn’t have to). 

He turned the small hallway and stopped short, he opened his mouth to say something, but just shut it again. 

There was a GIRL on Techno’s couch, in his spot. At least she didn’t have one of his popsicles. 

Techno walked into view saying something to the girl, something Tommy didnt hear because he was too busy shouting “what the fuck Techno!?”

Both the girl and Techno turned to look at him, Techno’s face immediately betraying his annoyance (it's okay, annoying Techno was a part of his little brother charm, he knew Techno would cry at his funeral (if he ever died)). 

Techno looked like he was about to say something, but Tommy cut him off. “You have a girlfriend? What? Why? When? How? Why didn’t you tell me I could've given you so much advice?” 

The girl–still staring at him–opened her mouth to say something, but Techno started speaking first. 

“One, what are you doing here? Two, she’s not my girlfriend, and three, I would never trust any kind of advice from you, especially dating advice.” 

“I wanted a popsicle. You wish she was then okay, more reasons you need my absolutely amazing and correct advice.”

“You have popsicles at your house, I personally bought them three days ago.” Techno said, ignoring the rest of what he had said, that's okay, Tommy would just have to get him back on topic.

“I ate ‘em all. If she’s not your girlfriend then who is she?” he asked.

“You ate all of them? I-, okay.” he said, sighing. It really is true, Tommy had eaten all the popsicles Tech had brought (with a little help from Tubbo), so he could have an excuse to go back to Techno’s. 

“She lives down stairs,” Techno finally answered. 

“Ohhhhh, I see. So when you said your neighbors were nice you meant nice nice, not minding-their-own-business-not-banging-a-shoe-on-the-ceiling-whenever-you-walk-around nice. I see.”

Techno just stared at him, speechless (like always). 

He walked over to the couch she was sitting on and stuck his hand out, “hello I’m Tommy, your sometimes upstairs neighbor. Sorry about Techno, I know he’s awkward but he’s cool once you get to know him, you’ll see.”

She slowly shook his hand, confused in her movements. “Niki,” she said. 

“Nice to meet you niki, so what brings you upstairs?”

“English tutoring.” 

“Tutoring?” Tommy repeated, looking at the door. “I didn’t know tutors took two clients at once, what time are they getting here?” 

He obviously knew there was no tutor coming, Techno was an english major so of course he was the tutor, he just wanted to tease him a little. 

“They’re already here,” Techno said from across the room. 

“Oh, sorry,” Tommy said sarcastically, “I always forget you chose to major in the absolute worst subject ever to major in. you’re PAYING for extra english homework, what the fuck?”

Techno didn’t answer, instead turning to niki. “Sorry about Tommy, I didn't know he was coming over. He’s probably not leaving anytime soon so if you want to continue this another time?” 

“Fine. Fine, I'll leave. Since I'm clearly not wanted here. See how he treats me, Niki?”

“You don't have to answer him, he’ll shut up eventually, he always does.”

Tommy raised his middle finger. “It's impossible to shut me up, you should know that by now.”

“I think asphyxiation will.”

“I don’t know what the fuck ass-fixation is but i doubt it.”

“This is why you should major in english.” 

Tommy didn't answer, instead he walked to the fridge and stuffed as many popsicles as he could in his hoodie, the more comedically the better, before walking back out into the living room and saying “You need more of these, we’re almost out.” 

Techno looked back at him, but didn’t answer as he saw the amount he had shoved into his pocket. He just pointed to the door. Tommy raised his hands in surrender and left the apartment. He didn’t feel like biking home yet, so he just sat there for a second before opening a popsicle and checking his messages. He could swear he felt his phone buzz on the way there, and sure enough there was a message from Wil.

The Bitch: were did u go u ass

Sent at 11:23

Technos

hasd  to get out of the house craving popsicle ykwim

I owe you one

He pressed the home button and scrolled across the screen looking for something, anything to do. He opened his Clash of Clans for a second, but he only collected his resources before closing it again. His phone buzzed from another message from  Wil, but he closed the notification without even looking at it. 

There was literally nothing to do. He couldn’t annoy techno because he was a bitch and decided to have guests without even telling Tommy, he came all this way for nothing. He opened another popsicle, it was getting a little melted, the condensation making the inside of his pocket wet. 

He couldn't bike home with all of these in his pocket, and there was no way they’d survive the journey in the august heat. His only choice was to drop them back off in tech’s freezer. But that meant he’d have to go inside. 

He finished his popsicle and stood, his hand on the door handle. He pulled it open before he was fully standing and stepped inside. 

When techno shot a glance at him, he shrugged and said “they were starting to melt, I had to put them back.”

Techno didn’t say anything this time either, he just went back to reading whatever paper he was reading, Niki shuffling her hands anxiously. 

Tommy strode back out the door, and this time he climbed down the steps to his bike. He unlocked it and climbed on, deciding to take the long way home so he could avoid the hill, though it’d probably take more effort to go around it than to climb it, Tommy really didn’t want to pull his bike up the steep hill. 

He peddled off down the driveway towards the street. 

He pulled his window open and stepped out, the screen already removed, presumably Tommy's fault. 

“Why are we out here?” he asked the two of them seated with their backs against the building's walls. 

Tommy patted the space next to him, and tubbo carefully made his way over, cautious of the fall just a few feet over. “You know we literally already have a balcony,” he said, probably for the millionth time. 

Tommy never liked the other balcony, said it was too safe, too tame. Exactly what a balcony should be in Tubbo's opinion.

It was Tommy's favorite thinking spot, though Tommy had said once that he thought more about thinking than he did thinking anything profound. Tubbo couldn’t understand him at all. 

Tubbo risked a glance towards the edge, and immediately he regretted it, he was filled with the overwhelming urge to just jump.

Come on, it’ll be fun.

 Have you ever free fallen before?

 Jump. 

Come on, come on.

It’s not that far. 

Shut up, he tried thinking. But it wasn’t a battle he could win, he could never win. How can you win against yourself, your own thoughts?

Jump. 

Don’t be a pussy. 

Tommy would do it.

Jump. 

Just jump you fucking dumbass. 

Tubbo could feel Tommy's eyes on him, and he knew Tommy knew what he was thinking. He hardly ever invited him here because of it. 

“Just for the record, i dont think it's cool to jump off roofs, zero-out-of-ten do not recommend.”

He’s lying just to make me feel better, we’ve had this conversation before, he knows how insane i am. Can’t even control my own thoughts, I'm nothing. 

Tubbo glanced at Emma, just to see if he could tell what he thought of Tommy's out of nowhere comment. Her hazel eyes glowed bright green in the setting sun, she wasn’t even looking at him, instead it seemed she was staring straight at the sun, her gaze focused, unblinking, as if she were in a staring contest. 

Suddenly she blinked, and looked straight at him, brushing her unruly dirty blonde hair out of her face. 

“You’re staring.” It wasn't an accusation, she was only stating a fact. 

“The sun makes your eyes glow.” 

“The sun makes my eyes burn,” she said, pulling her curly hair back into a ponytail at the base of her neck. She couldn’t quite get all of it, the shorter strands in front just slipped back into her face, her face crumpled in annoyance. 

Tubbo understood the feeling, it got annoying t0 constantly have hair in your face, but it was a part of his look, and he wouldn’t abandon it now. 

Tommy hadn’t said anything in a while, which was slightly worrying to Tubbo, Tommy never held silence for very long, he said it made his thoughts too loud. 

“What are you thinking?” 

Tommy didn’t answer for a second, “do you ever just think, and think? But the second someone asks you what you were thinking it disappears? I could’ve been thinking the most profound things, what if I discovered the meaning of life? But then it’s gone, and we’ll never know.” 

“What if someone’s discovered the cure for cancer, but forgot it? I think it’d be sad, getting that close and watching it disappear.” 

“How do you think earth would change if we all just had perfect memory, you’d never be able to gaslight, and lying would be so much harder.”

“If the cops ask you what you were doing the night of September 8, 2020, you wouldn’t be able to lie and say “I forgot”. That wouldn’t be believable.”

“Leave it to you to twist everything into crime, fucking criminal.” 

“You literally talk about drugs all day.”

“Some drugs are legal.”

“Not for you, a child.”

“Fuck you.”

The conversation drifted off, and they all sat in silence for a moment before Emma stood up and started walking towards the edge. 

“What are you doing?” Tubbo asked, he could hear the panic seep into his voice. 

“About how far is the drop?” she asked, leaning dangerously over the edge. 

“Far enough,” Tommy said, “sprained my ankle jumping off.”

“Because you didn’t know how to land right.”

“Oh, because there's any other way to land.”

She didn’t answer, instead she jumped. Both Tommy and Tubbo rushed over to the edge, Tommy closer than Tubbo. 

Emma stood perfectly fine at the base of the porch. She grinned up at Tommy, “You try.”

See how easy it would be? She’s perfectly fine, untouched. Nobody dies falling from the second floor, unless you're an idiot. 

“Not until you tell me how to do it, I'm not that crazy.”

“Crouch, bend your knees just as you land, it’ll absorb the impact.” 

Tommy looked scared, but he didn’t look like he’d chicken out. 

Look, he’s going to do it, he thinks she’s cool. He lied to me earlier, about how he felt, he just didn’t want me to feel bad. 

Don't I want to make him happy? I do.

Tommy looked over at him, “you don’t have to do it.”

He doesn’t mean that, of course I do. Do I really want him to like her better? Her? He only met her yesterday, he’s known me for years. Am I really that pathetic? 

“Will you?” Tubbo asked. 

Tommy shook his head, and then nodded. “I don't know, I think so.”

He will, I know he will. He wants to impress her, he already likes her better. 

Tubbo didn’t know how to start the fall, did he just walk off the edge? Jump? Turn around and hang off the gutter? He tried to think of the coolest way, walking, definitely. Would he be able to react fast enough to crouch? If he messed this up he’d look idiotic. 

He knew he couldn’t think about it any longer, if he did he’d chicken out, and then Tommy wouldn’t like him as much. He did it. He could feel the wind whipping his hair, and he remembered what she said. He crouched down as soon as he landed, just barely managing to stay upright. 

He did it. He actually did it, and it didn’t hurt. Maybe Tommy wouldn’t think he was such a pussy anymore.  

He heard Tommy land beside him, and turned just in time to see him fall flat on his ass. Tommy burst out laughing and a second later Tubbo joined him. He could hear Emma wheezing a few feet away, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if they were all friends.