Chapter Text
The silence in the house felt wrong that morning, stretched thin across the walls like something waiting to snap. Tommy sensed it immediately when he opened his eyes. His breath fogged faintly in the cold air, and for a long moment he watched it drift upward in slow, uneven curls. He expected the usual noises that grounded him in the present. The low hum of Techno making breakfast downstairs. Phil’s quiet whistling as he checked the perimeter. Wilbur pacing while muttering ideas only he understood. All of it was missing. The world felt paused, like someone had taken the needle off the record and forgotten to set it back down. Tommy pushed himself upright, muscles aching with the kind of exhaustion that never went away completely. It lived in him now, buried deep like a bruise that never healed. He rubbed sleep from his eyes and tried to shake off the feeling that something was wrong. Usually he could ignore it. Today he could not.
He dragged himself out of bed and stepped into the hall. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath him in a familiar pattern. His fingers brushed along the wall as he walked, letting the texture keep him grounded, but his pulse still climbed with every step. He hated how easily this house could shift from safe to threatening with only a little silence. His mind always seemed ready to supply the worst possibilities. Maybe Dream had found them. Maybe the facility had tracked him. Maybe the house would not protect him this time. He reached the stairs and tried to steady his breathing. Halfway down he paused, gripping the railing as another memory surged up without warning, sharp and unwelcome.
It was the same hallway. Not this one, but close enough that the resemblance twisted inside him. White walls. Bright lights. The steady footsteps of guards walking just behind him. He remembered the cold tug on the back of his shirt when he slowed down. He remembered the sting in his scalp when Dream used his hair to pull him forward. He forced himself to blink and focus on the home he stood in now. The house smelled faintly of coffee and woodsmoke. Not disinfectant. Not metal. He repeated the details in his mind until the memory faded enough for him to move again.
In the kitchen, the others were gathered around the table in an uncomfortable silence that made the air feel dense. Phil looked up first, worry immediately sharpening into something gentler when he saw Tommy. Wilbur avoided eye contact. Techno kept his gaze fixed on the mug in his hands. They all looked like they had been up for hours. Tommy felt suddenly exposed in his wrinkled shirt and rumpled hair, like he had walked into the wrong scene. Phil pulled out a chair for him without a word. Tommy sat slowly, eyes flicking between the three men. Something heavy hung in the space between them, and they were all trying too hard not to touch it.
Tommy opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but the words stuck halfway up his throat. His heart beat faster, the same guilty rhythm it always fell into when he felt unprepared. He hated that feeling. He hated that parts of him reacted before he even understood why. The tension in the room reminded him too much of waiting rooms in the facility, when scientists whispered things he was not supposed to hear right outside the door. They always paused when they noticed him listening. They always looked at him like a problem they were still trying to solve. He felt that same pressure now.
Phil was the one to break the quiet. His voice was soft, but lined with something that sounded like regret. He told Tommy there had been movement in the nearby forest during the night. Tracks that were too clean. Shadows that did not match the usual wildlife. No confirmed danger yet, but enough to worry that someone was looking for them. Tommy went very still at that. The words landed like falling stones in his stomach. He felt the cold bloom through him before he even processed the details. He nodded once, trying to seem calm, but every part of him felt wired tight.
Wilbur finally lifted his gaze to meet Tommy’s. There was something complicated in his expression. Guilt, fear, protectiveness, all tangled together. He started talking too quickly, assuring Tommy that they were not in immediate danger and that the group would handle whatever came next. Tommy knew Wilbur meant well. He also knew these kinds of reassurances rarely reached him. His mind filled in the gaps with memories he wished he could tear out piece by piece.
He remembered standing alone in the experimentation room long before he had a name that mattered. He remembered the hum of machines and the steady drip of water from a cracked pipe in the ceiling. The door had a small glass window that only allowed shadows to pass across it. Whenever someone walked by, the light changed in a way that made his pulse leap. He never knew who was coming. He never knew what they wanted. Sometimes they wanted blood samples. Sometimes they wanted reactions to pain. Sometimes they wanted obedience training. Dream always wanted obedience. Dream smiled when Tommy failed to provide it.
Tommy blinked hard and looked at the kitchen table again. His hands trembled slightly in his lap. He tucked them under the table, hoping no one noticed. Techno, of course, noticed immediately. His eyes flicked toward Tommy with that unsettling accuracy he always had, but he said nothing. He shifted his mug closer to Tommy in a quiet offer of comfort. Tommy did not drink it, but the gesture helped more than he expected.
Phil leaned forward, elbows on the table, voice steady in a way that made it clear he had been preparing for this moment. He said they needed to talk about possible evacuation routes. Tommy felt his throat tighten at the word evacuation. He hated running. He hated planning to run even more. The facility had taught him that running only postponed the inevitable. They always found him in the end. Dream always found him in the end.
Another memory rose up slowly, almost gently, but still sharp enough to sting. Tommy remembered the first time Dream dragged him out of the containment room by his hair. It was quiet that day. No alarms. No shouting. Just Dream’s hand twisting in his hair and pulling until Tommy had to scramble to his feet to keep from falling. Dream did not shout. He did not look angry. He looked bored. That was worse. Pain inflicted out of boredom hit differently. Tommy remembered the feeling of each step jarring through his body as Dream tugged him down the hallway. He remembered the humiliation of stumbling. He remembered trying not to make noise. Dream hated when he made noise.
The kitchen around him blurred slightly as the memory pulled harder. Tommy forced himself to inhale slowly and focus on the warmth of the room. The faint sound of the fire in the living room. Phil’s steady breathing. The clink of Wilbur’s spoon against his mug. These things were real. The facility was not. He repeated that thought until the pressure behind his eyes eased.
Phil stood and walked around the table, placing a gentle hand on Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy flinched before he could stop himself. Phil did not comment. He adjusted his touch to be lighter, giving Tommy space to lean away if he needed to. Tommy hated how grateful he felt for that patience. He wished he did not need it.
The meeting shifted into planning, but Tommy barely heard any of it. His mind drifted in and out, pulled by memories he did not invite and emotions he could not untangle. Every mention of tracking patterns or unknown threats made his pulse climb. Every pause in conversation sent his thoughts spiraling to old fears. He knew the others were watching him, but they did not push. They let him sit in silence, lost somewhere between the kitchen and a locked room he could not leave behind.
And still, the morning stretched forward, heavy with the promise that something was coming.
Something Tommy was not sure he could face.
The chill in Tommy’s chest settled deeper as the planning dragged on. The others talked about strategy, routes, possible blind spots in the forest, and who would take which watch shift. Tommy stared at the table, eyes unfocused, listening without absorbing. Every sentence felt like it had a shadow behind it. Every hypothetical danger sounded too familiar. His mind kept drifting to cold metal floors and the sound of measured footsteps approaching his door. He tried to ground himself with the movement of his fingers against his knee, small rhythmic patterns he hoped would anchor him, but even that felt thin and fragile.
At some point, Wilbur came around the table and crouched next to his chair. Tommy did not notice until Wilbur spoke his name in a quiet voice. Tommy blinked and realized he had been staring at the same spot on the wood grain for several minutes. Wilbur did not touch him, which Tommy appreciated more than he could explain. Wilbur just stayed close, not crowding, not insistent. It was a silent gesture that he was still there. That Tommy was not slipping away unnoticed. Tommy swallowed hard and nodded before Wilbur even spoke again. He wanted to signal that he was listening, even if his mind felt like it was pulling apart layer by layer.
Wilbur told him softly that they could take a break from the planning if he needed it. Tommy shook his head quickly. He did not want to step away. Being alone right now felt worse than staying at the table. The idea of walking into another room where the silence might swallow him whole made his stomach twist. He said he was fine. The words came out too fast and too tight. Wilbur’s eyes softened but he did not argue. Instead he returned to his seat, giving Tommy back the space he had been trying to hold onto.
Phil continued outlining their possible exit points. Techno added details with the calm tone he always used when things were serious. Tommy knew they were trying to make him feel included. He knew they wanted him to understand the plan. But every time he tried to follow the discussion, another memory rose up and twisted his focus away.
He remembered a different kind of meeting room in the facility. A room with a single metal table and two chairs. Dream never sat in the second chair. He preferred to stand behind Tommy. Tommy remembered sitting stiffly in the cold seat while Dream read through his reports. If Tommy shifted too much, Dream would yank his head back by his hair with a silent warning. Not enough to injure him. Just enough to remind him who held control. The humiliation always hit harder than the pain. Tommy remembered the heat in his face. The tears he refused to let fall. He remembered Dream leaning down to speak close to his ear, voice low and steady. You will do better. You do not have a choice. Tommy swallowed against the phantom echo of that voice even now.
Phil’s tone changed slightly, signaling the end of the meeting. Tommy blinked again and found that the room had shifted. Chairs scraped lightly against the floor as everyone stood. Wilbur murmured something about checking the windows. Techno moved toward the back door with purposeful steps. Phil stayed near Tommy, watching him with quiet concern. Tommy forced himself to stand. His legs wobbled at first, and he braced a hand on the table until he steadied. Phil pretended not to notice.
Tommy walked into the living room slowly, unsure what to do with himself now that the planning was over. The fire crackled in the hearth, warmth spilling into the room. Tommy lowered himself onto the couch and pulled his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms loosely around them. He stared into the flames, letting the heat touch his face. The flickering light made the room feel alive, but Tommy still felt apart from it. Like he was watching the world from behind glass.
He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping the warmth would settle him. Instead, the darkness behind his eyelids brought another memory.
He was small again, curled on the thin mat in his containment room. Dream stood outside the door, speaking quietly with one of the researchers. Tommy remembered trying to stay perfectly still, hoping they would not come inside. But the door opened anyway, bathing the room in harsh white light. Dream stepped in first. He looked at Tommy with that slight, unreadable smile. He asked Tommy why he had not completed the task assigned to him. Tommy opened his mouth to explain, but the moment he hesitated, Dream grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him forward. Tommy stumbled to his knees, hands hitting the cold floor. Dream tilted his head and told him to try again. His voice was calm. Too calm. That was how Tommy learned that quiet anger was the worst kind.
The memory broke when a blanket draped over his shoulders. Tommy flinched and looked up. Phil stood behind the couch with a small, apologetic smile. He said nothing. He did not need to. Tommy pulled the blanket tighter and nodded once. It helped, even if only a little.
Wilbur returned from the windows, reporting that nothing seemed off. Techno returned a moment later. The house settled into a tense quiet, the kind that felt like everyone was waiting for something to happen. Tommy watched them move through the room, doing their best to appear calm. He knew they were pretending for his sake. He appreciated it, even if he wished he did not need the reassurance.
He leaned his head back against the couch. The blanket felt heavy around his shoulders, grounding him in a way his own thoughts refused to. He watched the firelight dance across the ceiling, unfocused but steady. The warmth seeped slowly into his skin, easing the icy pressure that had clung to him all morning.
But even as the house tried to steady itself, Tommy could not shake the sense that things were shifting again.
Something had changed. Something he could not name yet.
And deep down, Tommy knew the past was not done with him.
Not even close.
Tommy did not sleep again after that first hour of rest. Every time he closed his eyes he felt something cold brush along the inside of his skull like fingertips searching for a crack. His pulse kept jumping. His breathing kept skipping. The room was too quiet and too loud all at the same time. He lay stiff under the blanket, staring at the wall across from him while the faint glow of morning filtered through the curtains. His body felt wrong. His skin felt wired and restless. Nothing hurt exactly but everything felt off, like he had been tuned just slightly out of key. He kept rubbing at his wrist where the cuffs used to be. He kept digging his nails into his palm like he was trying to find the invisible restraints again.
The safehouse carried the normal morning sounds. The kettle clicked on. Phil’s steps moved across the kitchen. Wilbur’s voice hummed a melody under his breath. Techno shifted his chair in the living room. Everything was normal. Everything was calm. It only made Tommy feel more disconnected. He sat up slowly and the blanket slipped to the floor. His hair stuck to his forehead. His hands trembled when he ran them through it. He rubbed his face. He whispered for his heart to stop racing but it only beat harder.
Phil knocked lightly on the doorframe and stepped in with a mug of tea. He smiled like he always did but it wavered when he saw Tommy’s face. He set the mug on the table. He crouched so he could look Tommy in the eyes. He asked if he slept. Tommy said he did. The words came out too fast and too sharp. Phil nodded but he did not look convinced. His hand hovered like he wanted to rest it on Tommy’s shoulder but he hesitated. Tommy hated that hesitation. It reminded him of the facility. It reminded him of trainers who were kind until they were not. It reminded him of how wrong it felt to be touched and how worse it felt not to be.
Wilbur poked his head in. His smile was brighter and softer. He asked if Tommy wanted breakfast. Tommy nodded. He followed them into the kitchen because staying behind felt worse. Every step felt like he was walking through fog. His vision blurred at the edges. He blinked hard to clear it. It did not clear. He leaned against the counter while Wilbur cooked. The smell of eggs and toast should have been comforting but instead it made his stomach twist. Phil watched him from the table. Techno read the newspaper but his eyes kept flicking toward Tommy like he was tracking him without looking like he was tracking him.
Tommy tried to act normal. He sat at the table. He picked at the food. He laughed when Wilbur teased him about the way he cut toast. He noticed the way Techno’s shoulders stayed tense. He noticed the way Phil kept glancing at his hands. He noticed everything because Dream trained him to notice everything. He felt the world tighten around him. He felt the room shrink even though no one was doing anything wrong. He felt trapped inside the life he wanted but did not trust.
He excused himself after two bites. Wilbur started to protest but Phil stopped him. Tommy walked to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. He gripped the sink and stared at his reflection. His eyes looked wrong. Too bright. Too distant. Like something behind them was pressed forward trying to look out. He splashed water on his face. It dripped down his neck and soaked the collar of his shirt. He breathed in. He breathed out. Nothing helped. A faint whisper curved along the inside of his mind. It was not a voice exactly. More like a pressure that formed meaning without words. He clenched his jaw until it hurt.
He whispered for it to stop. It did not.
He stepped back from the sink. His legs felt weak. He felt sweat prickle along his back. He gripped the edge of the counter again as the pressure in his head pulsed once slow and heavy like a hand knocking on a locked door. He bit the inside of his cheek. He tasted blood. It grounded him for half a second. Then it slipped away and the world tilted again.
Someone knocked softly on the door. It was Techno. His voice was steady. He asked if Tommy was alright. Tommy tried to answer but the words tangled in his throat. He swallowed and forced out a yes. Techno waited for a moment. Tommy could almost feel him analyzing the answer without pressing further. Techno said he would be in the living room if Tommy needed him. His footsteps faded.
Tommy slid down the wall until he sat on the tile floor. He pulled his knees to his chest. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. The pressure in his head kept building. It felt familiar and wrong. It felt like the facility. It felt like the trained part of him that Dream carved and sharpened. His breath shook. He whispered that he did not want this. He whispered that he did not want to feel controlled again. He whispered that he had left that place behind. The pressure only pushed harder.
He lost track of time. When he finally stood again, his legs still shook. He fixed his hair. He washed his face again. He looked in the mirror and practiced a smile. It looked fine. It looked like the mask that fooled entire hero teams. He forced his breathing even. He opened the door and walked out.
Wilbur sat on the couch tuning his guitar. He smiled when Tommy entered the room. Phil stood near the bookshelf sorting papers. Techno looked up from his spot on the floor where he was cleaning his gauntlets. Tommy stepped into the room. The pressure in his head pulsed again. His vision flickered. For a split second the room warped at the edges, like someone was pulling reality tight. Tommy stumbled. His hand shot out to the wall to steady himself.
Three sets of eyes snapped toward him.
Phil stepped forward first. His voice stayed gentle but edged with concern. He asked if Tommy felt sick. Tommy shook his head. He forced a laugh. He said he just stood up too fast. Wilbur frowned. Techno’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly. Tommy could feel their attention like heat against his skin. He hated it. He hated how suffocating it felt to be watched. He took another step. The pressure pulsed again. His knees buckled and he hit the couch arm before he could catch himself.
Wilbur dropped the guitar. Phil moved to steady him. Techno rose from the floor so fast the tools clattered.
Tommy laughed again and said he was fine. His voice cracked. It sounded fake. All three of them heard it. Wilbur crouched beside him. He asked if Tommy felt dizzy. Tommy nodded because lying would only make it worse. Phil knelt in front of him and gently pushed Tommy’s bangs up to check his forehead. Tommy flinched before he could stop it. Phil froze. Tommy whispered sorry. Phil said it was alright with a soft patience that made Tommy’s chest ache.
Techno folded his arms. His voice was low and calm. He asked when the symptoms started. Tommy tried to shrug it off. Techno did not look away. His stare was sharp but not unkind. Tommy looked down and said he woke up feeling strange. He did not mention the whisper in his head. He did not mention the pressure that felt like something reaching for him. He did not mention Dream.
Phil suggested letting him rest on the couch. Tommy nodded. Wilbur brought a blanket. Phil fetched water. Techno sat on the armchair across from him with the same unblinking focus as before. Tommy pulled the blanket over his legs. He tucked his hands beneath it so no one would see them tremble.
The pressure pulsed again. Tommy winced. Techno saw. He asked if it was a headache. Tommy said yes. It felt safer than the truth. Phil returned with the water and a small bottle of painkillers. Tommy took them even though he knew they would do nothing.
The room quieted. Wilbur strummed a soft rhythm again. Phil organized paperwork. Techno cleaned the last of his gauntlet. Everything looked calm. Everything sounded normal. Tommy tried to slow his breathing. He tried to ignore the pressure in his skull. He tried to pretend he belonged here.
Another pulse hit his mind. Harder. Sharper. His vision blurred. He inhaled sharply through his teeth. Wilbur looked up. Phil’s head turned. Techno set his gauntlet down and sat forward slightly.
Tommy curled tighter under the blanket. He whispered that he was fine. No one believed him.
The soft rhythm of Wilbur’s guitar faded. The kettle whistled in the kitchen. Something outside creaked in the wind. The pressure pulsed again. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. For a moment it felt like he was back in the facility. Cold tile. Harsh lights. Hands pulling him by the arm when he stumbled. Instructions repeated with no emotion. A voice behind glass giving commands.
He gasped and his hand shot up to his head. Phil was at his side instantly. Wilbur moved to steady him. Techno stood. Tommy felt trapped between all of them. His breath came in short bursts. The pressure thickened until it felt like something was dragging across the inside of his mind.
Techno stepped closer. His voice was steady but low. He asked if this felt familiar. Tommy froze. The question hit too close. Phil frowned. Wilbur looked between them both with growing worry.
Tommy shook his head too quickly. He said no. He said he just needed air. He pushed the blanket aside and stood. The room tilted. Techno reached out instinctively but Tommy stepped away from his hand. His heart hammered. He said he needed air again. He moved toward the door. Phil called for him to wait but Tommy kept going. He stepped outside into the cold air.
He leaned against the porch railing and forced deep breaths. The sky was gray. The wind was sharp. The world felt clearer but the pressure in his head did not fade. It pressed forward again and Tommy whispered a plea for it to stop.
It did not stop.
Inside the house, muffled voices rose. They were talking about him. They were worried. They were trying to understand. Tommy felt sick. He did not want them involved. He did not want them close. He did not want them to see what was happening.
He closed his eyes.
The pressure in his mind finally shifted. Not softer. Not weaker. More focused. Like someone had found the right channel. Tommy’s breath hitched. The world thinned around him. A faint sensation slid across his mind like a cold hand brushing his thoughts aside.
Someone was reaching through the bond.
Someone who should not be able to find him.
Someone who trained him.
Someone who wanted him back.
The whisper formed more clearly now. It curved around his thoughts and pressed against the places that still obeyed old commands. It made his pulse spike. It made his breath shake. It made his knees weaken.
Tommy whispered one word.
Dream.
The words hung between them long after Phil left the stairwell. Tommy leaned his head back against the cool stone and let his eyes fall shut, but it did nothing to stop the burn behind them. It felt like everything was pulling at him from different directions. Every lie he had ever told sat on his shoulders like a weight he could not shift. The truth about Techno pressed against his ribs like it wanted out, the secret of Phoenix sat behind his tongue like a spark he could not let slip, and the fear of what happened the night he was taken by Dream curled itself tight around his spine. None of it fit together. He felt stretched thin, as if someone had threaded him through a needle and tugged until he barely existed at all.
He stayed there for a long moment, breathing slow, trying to ground himself in the dark. It should have helped. The manor was quiet at night. The hallways usually felt safe. Tonight every shadow looked like something waiting to drag him back. His hands shook before he even noticed it. He curled them into fists and squeezed until the tremble eased. The pressure hurt. Good. Pain meant he was here. It meant he had a body. It meant he was not trapped in the obsidian room with Dream leaning over him whispering that fighting back was pointless.
Tommy pushed away from the wall and stepped out into the corridor. His feet felt heavy against the floor. He did not know where he was going. He only knew he could not stay. The air felt too thin. His chest pulled tight with each breath. He kept walking until the corridor opened into the living area where Phil had left a lamp burning. The soft light cast long shadows across the furniture. They twisted across the walls in shapes that made his stomach turn. He swallowed hard and blinked, reminding himself that nothing could touch him here. Nothing could reach him here. He repeated that thought until the words lost meaning.
He sat on the couch because he needed to sit or he was going to fall. The cushions dipped under his weight. The quiet made his ears ring. He tried to focus on the fireplace, on the faint heat that still clung to the air from earlier when Techno had lit it. Techno always kept the place warm. Techno had been trying. That thought hit Tommy harder than he expected. He lowered his head into his hands.
He had wanted to trust Techno. He had wanted to believe that they could be a family again. But every time he let himself get close, something inside him recoiled like a struck animal. He hated it. He hated how his body reacted before his mind could catch up. Techno had not hurt him. Techno had not even raised his voice since Tommy had come home. But the fear lived in Tommy like a second heartbeat. It made everything sharp. It made kindness feel like a threat disguised as a gift.
The crack of a floorboard made him jerk upright. His pulse jumped without permission. When Techno stepped around the corner holding a mug, Tommy flinched before he could stop it. Techno froze mid step. The mug clinked softly as he set it on the table.
You alright
The words were simple. Too simple. Tommy wanted to answer but his throat closed around it. He nodded even though it was a lie. Techno watched him in silence for a moment. His eyes tracked every small movement Tommy made. That should have been comforting. Instead it made Tommy want to fold into himself. He hated that. He hated that the person trying the hardest was the one he pulled away from the most.
Techno sat down in the armchair across from him. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, giving Tommy space but staying close enough that Tommy could feel him there. That strange warm presence that used to mean safety. Now it only reminded him of how far he had fallen from the boy he used to be.
Phil talked to me he said quietly.
Tommy stiffened. His pulse climbed again.
Not everything Techno added before Tommy could panic further. Just enough that I know you are struggling.
Tommy pressed his nails into his palms. He did not want this conversation. He did not want Techno seeing him like this. Weak. Fractured. Afraid of nothing. Afraid of everything. His voice came out too small when he tried to speak.
I am fine.
You do not have to lie to me.
I am not lying.
Techno raised a brow and Tommy immediately looked away. Heat crawled up the back of his neck. He hated how transparent he felt. He hated how Techno could read him even now.
I keep thinking if I give you space I might make it worse Techno continued. And if I sit close I might make it worse. And if I say nothing I might make it worse. You gotta tell me what helps.
Tommy shook his head. He hated the burn in his eyes. There was no answer he could give. Nothing helped. Space felt like abandonment. Closeness felt like danger. Silence felt like the moments before Dream grabbed him by the hair. Noise felt like the crackle of static before pain.
I do not know Tommy whispered.
Techno leaned back in the chair and let out a slow breath. That somehow made everything worse. Tommy could handle anger. He could handle yelling. He could handle being told he was a disappointment. He had survived all of that. But quiet patience felt impossible to hold.
Alright Techno said. Then can I try something
Tommy tensed. He hated that his mind immediately supplied images of Dream leaning close, saying the same words before something terrible followed. He forced himself to nod. Techno moved slowly. He reached down to the floor and lifted something from beside the chair. A folded blanket. He set it on the arm of the couch.
You do not have to touch it if you dont want to he said. But sometimes grounding helps.
Tommy stared at the blanket like it was a foreign object. His chest rose and fell too quickly. He reached out without thinking and then pulled his hand back sharply. The spike of fear came so fast it made his vision blur for a second. His breath hitched. Techno noticed. His posture straightened.
Tommy. Look at me.
Tommy dragged his gaze upward. Techno did not move any closer. He only held his attention.
Nothing is going to hurt you here Techno said quietly. Not the blanket. Not me. Not anything in this house.
Tommy swallowed hard.
I know.
But he did not feel it. His body did not believe it.
Techno’s eyes softened. You look like you are freezing.
Tommy blinked. His hands were shaking. He had not noticed the cold creeping into his skin. He hated that too. He hated how little control he had. He reached for the blanket again. His fingers brushed the fabric. Soft. Warm. Safe. He exhaled shakily and pulled it around himself.
Good Techno murmured.
That single word nearly undid him. Tommy sank deeper into the couch and pulled the blanket tight. The warmth clung to him like something steady. Something real. Slowly, his breath evened out. His shoulders sagged.
Techno watched him for a long moment. Not judging. Not pushing. The lamp flickered softly. The house settled around them. For the first time since the nightmare Tommy felt like he could breathe without something clawing at his throat.
After a while Techno spoke again, quieter than before.
I know you do not trust me right now. And I know I cannot rush that. But I am not going anywhere. You do not have to pretend around me.
Tommy’s throat closed. His next breath came out unsteady.
I am trying.
I know.
Tommy wiped at his eyes before the tears could fall. He hated crying. He hated how easily it happened now. Techno kept talking, voice steady.
You survived something horrible. That does not make you weak.
Tommy shook his head quickly. His heart thudded painfully. That was not how it worked. If he had been stronger none of it would have happened. If he had been smarter he would have fought harder. If he had been better he would not still be shaking over shadows and loud footsteps and someone brushing too close.
Techno watched the denial on his face and seemed to understand without Tommy needing to say it.
You know what I was like before he said. I was terrified of hurting anyone. I have spent my whole life trying to make sure I would never lose control. But you are the one who taught me that being strong does not mean being unbreakable.
Tommy lowered his gaze again. His throat felt tight.
You do not owe me anything Techno added. You do not even owe me trust. But you deserve safety. And I am going to make sure you have it.
The words hit Tommy in the chest hard enough that he had to curl forward slightly. He pressed the heel of his hand to his sternum. It felt like something lodged there might shatter if he breathed wrong. The room blurred. He did not want to cry. Not in front of Techno. Not again.
Techno stood from the chair. Tommy flinched automatically but Techno kept his distance. He picked up the mug he had brought earlier and set it on the table next to Tommy.
Hot chocolate. Phil said it helps.
Tommy stared at the mug. Steam curled from the surface. He wrapped his hands around it carefully. The warmth seeped into his fingers. His chest tightened again but this time it was different. Softer. Almost painful in a way that made him want to let it in even though it scared him.
Techno stepped back a little.
Im gonna grab some blankets for the guest room he said. If you want company the door will be open. If you want space that is fine too.
Tommy nodded. Techno hesitated for half a second then turned and walked down the hall. Tommy watched him go. Every step Techno took was slow and controlled like he was trying not to startle a skittish animal. Tommy hated that he was that animal. He hated that Techno had to treat him like something fragile.
But he also knew he could not have handled anything else.
Tommy sat alone with the hot chocolate warming his hands and the blanket wrapped tight around him. He finally let his eyes close. The house creaked as it settled for the night. For once it did not pull at his nerves.
He breathed in.
He breathed out.
There was still fear. There would always be fear for a while. But there was something else too. Something small and tentative. Something like the beginning of safety.
He held on to that feeling as tightly as he could.
Because for the first time since he had come home Tommy felt like maybe he could learn how to exist again.
Tommy did not remember drifting off on the couch, but when he jerked awake he was curled halfway sideways beneath the blanket. His neck ached and his heart hammered as if he had been dropped into his body mid fall. The mug was still on the table beside him. Cold now. The lamp was dimmer than before. The quiet pressed in heavy around him. For a moment he could not tell what had woken him.
Then he heard it. A soft clatter from down the hallway. His body reacted before his mind could catch up. His breath punched out of him sharp and thin. He pushed himself upright and gripped the edge of the couch to steady the tremble in his hands.
It is nothing he told himself. It is nothing.
But that whispering fear had already dug in. He could feel it in the center of his chest, spreading like ice. The house was too quiet. The creak too sharp. His thoughts jumped in the wrong direction instantly.
Dream is here.
He pressed his knuckles against his teeth to keep from making a sound. He knew it was irrational. He knew Dream could not be here. But knowing did nothing. The fear lived by its own rules.
Tommy forced himself to breathe. One. Two. The air felt like syrup in his lungs. He pushed the blanket off and stood up slowly. His legs wobbled. He hated that too. He hated how quickly his body folded.
Another sound. A door clicking closed. Soft but definite.
His throat tightened. His vision flickered for a second.
He backed toward the kitchen where the lightswitch sat by the doorway. He fumbled for it, his fingers brushing the wall once, twice, before he found the switch and flipped it. The overhead lights buzzed on. Too bright. He squinted against the sting.
Nothing leapt from the shadows. Nothing moved. The hall remained still.
Tommy let out a shaking breath.
Then Techno stepped around the corner with a blanket in his arms.
Tommy flinched so violently the world tipped sideways. His hands shot up defensively before his brain caught up. He froze with his elbows tucked tight, shoulders hunched. Techno stopped immediately, both hands still raised slightly from carrying the blanket.
Sorry he said softly. I did not mean to scare you.
Tommy forced his arms down. Embarrassment flooded him so fast it made him warm and nauseous all at once. His breathing stuttered as he tried to force it back under control.
I did not know where you went Tommy mumbled. His voice scraped like sandpaper.
I said I would be in the guest room Techno reminded gently. You were asleep when Phil checked on you so we left the light on.
His tone had no judgment in it. That somehow made the shame even worse.
Tommy sank onto one of the kitchen stools and rubbed the heel of his hand against his eye. He hated that his relief had been just as sharp as his fear. He hated that Techno’s presence calmed him even when it scared him. He hated that the two feelings coexisted until he could not tell which one he was reacting to.
Techno set the blanket down on the counter and leaned against the opposite side, keeping a careful distance Tommy knew he was calculating.
Bad dream Techno asked quietly.
I was not asleep long Tommy muttered.
That was not an answer.
Tommy stared down at the countertop. His reflection warped in the steel trim. His chest felt too tight again.
I heard something he said. And I thought
He stopped there. The rest lodged in his throat.
Techno nodded slowly. I get it.
No you do not Tommy snapped before he could stop himself. Then immediately regretted it when Techno’s expression shifted, not hurt but something like concern tightening around the edges.
Tommy ran both hands through his hair, gripping it at the roots until the sting grounded him. I mean you do not understand the way I mean it. It is not normal. It is stupid.
It is not stupid.
It feels stupid.
Techno shook his head. Fear is not logical. It is not supposed to be. It just exists.
Tommy stared at him for a long moment. Words bubbled up before he could tamp them down.
When I was there I learned to listen for sounds. Dream liked doing things quietly. So if something fell or something clicked I had to pay attention or
He swallowed hard. His pulse thudded in a sick rhythm.
Or I would not prepare in time.
Techno’s posture shifted, the way it always did when he heard something that hit him too deeply. He looked like he wanted to step forward but held himself back for Tommy’s sake.
You do not have to prepare here he said. Not for anything.
Tommy let out a bitter laugh. His hands shook again. I know. I keep telling myself that but my body does not listen.
It will. It takes time.
Tommy hated that answer. Time was the one thing he did not know how to endure.
Before he could spiral further, Techno reached for something on the counter. Tommy tensed but forced himself to stay still. Techno slid a glass of water toward him. The glass clinked gently. Something about the sound hit Tommy like a memory that was not painful but tender. He pulled the glass close and held it between both palms until the cold steadied him.
You never wake up calm Techno said softly. Even before everything happened. You always came out of sleep like you were expecting to fight someone.
Tommy looked up sharply. That memory caught him off guard. He had forgotten that Techno used to see stuff like that. Back when they were younger. Back when everything felt simpler.
You used to grab for a weapon Techno continued. Not a real one. Usually a pillow. Or a stick. Or my arm.
Tommy cracked the faintest grimace of a smile. I do not remember that.
I do. I always thought it was funny.
Tommy huffed a quiet breath. Not a laugh. But close.
The small shift in mood settled the air between them. Tommy could feel his heartbeat slowing at last. It still beat too fast, but it no longer felt like it was crashing against his ribs.
Techno glanced toward the hall. If you want to stay out here, I can keep the lamp on. If you want to sleep in your room, I can sit in the hall so you know someone is there.
Tommy looked up quickly. The idea hit him strangely. Not bad. Not embarrassing. Just unfamiliar.
You would just sit there he asked.
Yeah.
Why
Because you would sleep better.
Tommy’s throat closed around the sudden swell of emotion. He looked away again before it could show too clearly.
I do not want you to babysit me.
It is not babysitting. It is helping someone I care about.
Tommy’s breath stuttered. The room felt warm suddenly. Too warm. His vision shimmered for a second.
Techno waited. Patient. Steady.
Tommy dragged a hand down his face. Fine. Maybe. If it is not weird for you.
It is not.
Tommy nodded once. Then again, slower. He pushed away from the counter and stood up, the blanket slipping off his shoulders. The cold hit him instantly. Techno noticed and picked the blanket back up, handing it to him without stepping too close.
Here.
Tommy took it reluctantly and wrapped it around himself again. It eased the cold at once.
He walked toward the hall with small, careful steps. Techno followed a few paces behind him, giving him room but still there. Tommy glanced back once. Techno gave a small nod. That single gesture unlocked something in Tommy’s chest that he had not realized was clenched.
Tommy stepped into his room. The dim light spilled in from the hall. It felt safer with Techno standing just outside the doorway. Not watching him. Just existing there. A silent barrier against anything that tried to creep in.
Tommy crawled onto the bed slowly. He pulled the blanket tighter around himself and lay down facing the doorway.
Techno sat on the floor in the hall, leaning back against the wall. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a book. Something thick. Something old. He flipped it open and settled in without a sound.
The quiet returned. But it was different now. Less sharp. Less threatening. Tommy could feel his breathing slow. His eyelids grew heavy.
He kept his eyes on Techno until the shapes blurred.
For the first time in a long time he fell asleep without feeling like he might wake up to pain.
And for the first time in a long time he slept more than ten minutes before the fear tried to drag him back.
Because when the nightmares reached for him, there was someone sitting just outside the door who made the darkness pause.
Someone who stayed.
Tommy woke slowly. Not peacefully. His body surfaced through sleep as if rising through cold water, each breath thick and heavy. For a few seconds he did not know where he was. He felt the familiar pull in his chest. The dull ache behind his ribs. His muscles were tight, anticipating something. He waited for the sound of a door opening. He waited for footsteps. He waited for that voice that always followed. The one that lived in the back of his skull even here.
But none of it came.
The hall was quiet. The room was dim. And when he blinked the blur away, he saw Techno exactly where he had been before. Still sitting on the floor. Still leaning against the wall. And still awake.
Tommy’s breath caught for a moment. It was small. Barely noticeable. But it was real. Some part of him had not believed Techno would stay. Some part of him had expected to wake up alone.
Techno looked up from his book. His expression softened just a fraction. Morning he said quietly.
Tommy swallowed. His throat felt raw. Did you sleep at all
Techno shrugged one shoulder. I rested. You were fine for a while.
Tommy frowned. A while. That meant Techno had been watching long enough to see the difference. The twitch in Tommy’s fingers. The shift in his breathing. The way he sometimes curled in on himself like he expected impact.
Tommy sat up slowly. The blanket draped around him slid into his lap. His hands stayed inside the folds so Techno would not see the slight tremble that had returned as the memories caught up with him.
Did I do anything he asked.
Techno shook his head. Not really. You muttered a little. You grabbed your wrist like someone had taken it from you. Not much more.
Tommy looked down at his hands. He could still feel the way Dream used to grip him. Not rough. Not gentle. Calculated. Pressure in all the right places. Enough to make Tommy want to flinch without actually allowing him to.
He hated how clearly the sensation still lived in him.
Techno closed his book and set it beside him. His attention settled fully on Tommy in that slow, patient way that always made Tommy feel exposed. But not cornered. Just seen.
If you want to talk about it we can Techno said. If not that is fine too. Just do not sit there and pretend it did not happen.
I am not pretending.
Yes you are. You get quiet when you think too hard.
Tommy pressed his lips together. The silence stretched, uncomfortable but familiar. He curled the blanket tighter around himself. His voice came out soft and rough. I saw him.
Techno kept his expression even. In the dream
Not just in the dream Tommy said. I saw him the way he used to look at me. The way he used to stand over me. Like he was choosing what version of me he wanted to make next.
Techno exhaled slowly. Tommy could not tell if it was anger or sadness or something in between.
You are not there anymore Techno said. You are not his.
Tommy’s jaw clenched. It was instinct. A final piece of conditioning he had never quite shaken. The phrase you are not his felt like something forbidden to say.
Tommy looked away. I know. My brain knows. My body does not.
Techno stood up at last. His joints cracked quietly. He stretched once and stepped into the doorway of Tommy’s room. The light from the hall framed him for a moment.
Do you want breakfast he asked.
Tommy blinked. He had not expected that. The question cut through the heaviness in a strange way. It felt grounding. Ordinary. Human.
Tommy nodded once.
Techno gave a small nod back and turned toward the kitchen.
Tommy waited until he heard the footsteps fade. Only then did he let out the breath he had been holding. He pushed the blanket aside and stood up. His legs were unsteady, but less than before. He rubbed his hands together to force some warmth back into them.
He walked toward the doorway. As he stepped into the hall, he looked down and noticed something he had missed earlier.
Techno had not just been sitting. He had left a cushion under himself. A second one was pushed slightly closer to Tommy’s door. Close enough that he could have reached it in the night if he needed someone near him. Far enough that he would not feel crowded.
Tommy felt something shift inside his chest at the sight.
He moved into the kitchen where Techno was already pulling things from the pantry. Phil was at the stove, humming quietly to himself while cooking something that made the entire room smell safe.
Safe. Tommy hated the word. It felt fragile. Temporary. But he could not deny the truth of it. Not right now. Not with the warmth of the room settling against his skin.
Phil looked over his shoulder. Morning Tommy. Did you sleep alright
Tommy swallowed. The instinct to lie was immediate. Automatic. It rose like a reflex. But when he caught Techno’s eyes across the kitchen something in him stalled.
He hesitated. Then nodded. Sort of.
Phil smiled gently. Better than usual is still better.
Tommy let out a small breath. He sat down at the table. The chair creaked under him. A normal sound. Not a threat. But his body still tightened for a moment before relaxing.
Techno set a plate in front of him. Eggs. Toast. Simple. Warm. Tommy stared at it. His stomach twisted between hunger and apprehension.
Eat Techno said quietly. You will feel better.
Tommy picked up the fork. His hand shook only slightly.
As he took the first bite, something flickered at the edge of his vision.
A flash of white.
A hand gripping his hair.
A cold stone floor.
Tommy gasped before he could stop it. His fist closed around the fork so tight his knuckles turned white. The room warped for a second. His ears rang. He felt the sharp yank at his scalp again. He felt his neck snap back from the force.
He felt Dream’s breath near his ear.
Focus.
He flinched hard enough that the chair scraped against the floor.
Phil turned immediately. Techno stepped closer without making sudden moves.
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and forced air into his lungs. He curled forward, elbows on his knees, head down. His hair fell over his face and he grabbed the strands on instinct, holding them tight as if protecting them from a pull that was no longer there.
Tommy Techno said quietly. Look at me.
Tommy shook his head.
Phil’s voice softened. You are safe. No one is touching you.
Tommy’s breath trembled. He loosened his grip slowly. Not fully. Just enough to move his hands away from his scalp.
Techno crouched beside him. He kept his voice calm and level. Tell me what you saw.
Tommy’s throat worked. His voice cracked when he finally got it out.
He pulled my hair again.
Techno’s expression darkened. Not anger at Tommy. Something colder. Directed somewhere else entirely.
Phil stepped closer and placed a hand on the table near Tommy, not touching him, but close enough that Tommy could feel the presence.
You do not have to handle it alone Phil said softly.
Tommy looked up, eyes still wide and unfocused. His breathing was uneven. His pulse felt like thunder in his ears.
I know Tommy whispered. And I hate that too.
Phil gave a gentle nod. Healing does not mean liking the process.
Tommy let out a shaky laugh. It sounded broken. But it was still a laugh.
Techno stood and placed his hand on the back of Tommy’s chair. Solid. Steady. A quiet anchor.
Finish your food when you can he said. We will be here the whole time.
Tommy nodded slowly. His chest felt tight, but not suffocating anymore. He picked up the fork again. His grip steadied. The shaking eased.
The flashbacks still hovered at the edges of his mind. But they were quieter now. Less sharp with the weight of two people near him. Two people grounding him without pressure. Without demands.
Tommy took another bite.
It stayed down.
And for the first time that morning, the world did not tilt.
Not much. But enough.
Tommy finished the food slowly. Every bite felt like it took effort, not because he did not want to eat, but because his body kept bracing for something that never came. Each clink of the fork against the plate made him jump a little. He kept waiting for the hand that would appear beside him. The correction. The voice in his ear saying he was doing it wrong. He knew logically that none of that would happen here, but his muscles still behaved like they remembered a script he had performed a thousand times.
Phil stayed nearby, busying himself with dishes to give Tommy space. Techno leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching the room instead of staring directly at him. They gave him privacy without distance. Tommy did not know how they did that. He did not understand it. But he was relieved for it.
When he finally set the fork down, the plate was empty except for a few crumbs. Phil smiled softly. Good. That will keep you steady.
Tommy nodded. His hands were still curled into the blanket he had pulled around his shoulders earlier. He liked the weight of it. The warmth. He liked that it was his.
Techno straightened. I need to check the perimeter. Phil, you good watching him
Phil waved a hand. Go on. I am right here.
Techno’s eyes flicked to Tommy, and Tommy felt something twist in his chest at the look. Not pity. Not worry. Calculation. Techno was reading him the same way Tommy used to read targets. Except Techno did it to keep him safe.
Tommy looked away quickly. The thought made him uncomfortable.
Techno stepped out onto the back porch. The door closed quietly behind him. Phil began humming again, a calm tune that filled the kitchen but did not crowd it. Tommy sat still for a long moment, hands tightening on the blanket as memories nipped at the edges of his mind.
A metal door slamming. A boot on the floor. The echo of someone approaching. Tension climbing up his spine. He shook his head sharply to push the fragments away. When he opened his eyes, Phil was watching him.
You are somewhere else Phil said gently. Come back.
Tommy blinked. He forced his breathing to slow. It took longer than he wanted. I am fine.
Phil’s eyebrows lifted. That is what you say when you are absolutely not fine.
Tommy huffed a quiet laugh. Maybe.
Phil dried his hands and came to sit across from him. His voice softened. Do you want to talk about it
Tommy stared at the table. No.
That is alright Phil said. You do not have to. Just do not pretend you are alone in it.
Tommy’s throat tightened. He hated how easy Phil made it sound. He hated how he wanted to believe it.
Before he could respond, the back door opened again. Techno stepped inside, dripping slightly from the cold morning air. His expression was calm, but his voice was serious.
We need to move. Now.
Phil stood. What happened
Techno looked directly at Tommy. There were footprints in the mud behind the shed. Not ours. Not old.
Tommy’s blood ran cold.
Phil straightened. Dream’s people
Possibly.
Tommy’s heart lurched. He could feel the old instinct rising in him again. The one that told him to run. To disappear. To return to the mission. To obey. He curled his fingers tighter around the blanket to keep that instinct from showing on his face.
Techno crossed the room and crouched near him again. Someone was watching the house last night. They left before sunrise. They did not try to get close. But they know where this place is now.
Tommy swallowed hard. His voice came out small. Are we compromised
Phil shook his head. Not fully. We can still relocate before anything happens. We have backup spots.
Techno studied Tommy’s expression. You are not going outside alone today. Or any day until we know what this is.
Tommy nodded quickly. He did not want to go outside. Not right now. Not with the thought of Dream lingering in the shadows. Waiting. Watching.
But then another thought crawled up his spine. A darker one. One that came from the old training.
If Dream’s people were watching, then they had seen something. They had seen him. They had seen how he behaved. They might know he had slipped. They might know he was losing his grip on the assignment.
The dread coiled in his stomach.
Phil grabbed a duffel bag from the closet and started packing essentials. Food. First aid. Tools. Techno moved to secure the windows. Every step was practiced. Efficient. They had done this before.
Tommy remained at the table for a moment. Frozen. Caught between two worlds he no longer understood how to navigate.
Phil noticed his stillness and placed a hand on his shoulder. Tommy jumped at the touch. Phil withdrew immediately. Sorry. I should have warned you.
Tommy shook his head quickly. No. It is fine. I’m just I am thinking.
Phil nodded. Then his voice softened again. Whatever you are thinking, you do not have to face it alone.
Tommy stared at him. Something inside him crumpled at the words. He hated how much they affected him.
Techno returned to the table. We need you sharp Tommy. If something happens, listen to me and Phil. Stay close. Do not bolt. Do not try to handle anything alone.
Tommy’s breath hitched. He nodded again. Faster this time. I wont.
Techno watched him for another second to make sure the answer was real. Then he moved away.
Phil zipped the duffel bag shut. We move in five minutes.
Tommy stood from the table. His legs were weak again. His mind was buzzing with fear. But beneath the panic there was another feeling too.
Shame.
Because part of him was terrified they would be angry at him. That they would see his fear as failure. That they would decide he was useless.
A leftover thought from the training rooms. From the facility.
He grabbed the back of the chair to steady himself. Phil stepped closer but stopped at a respectful distance.
Tommy whispered, What if they come after you because of me
Phil’s expression softened into something sad and warm all at once. Then we deal with it together.
Tommy’s eyes burned. He blinked hard until the feeling passed.
Techno opened the front door a crack to check outside one more time. The forest was quiet. Too quiet.
He shut the door again. We leave now.
Tommy tightened the blanket around his shoulders and followed them into the hall. Every step felt heavy. Every shadow felt dangerous. Every breath felt tight. But he kept moving.
They reached the mudroom where shoes and coats were kept. Phil handed Tommy a jacket. Tommy slipped it on with trembling hands.
Techno opened the door.
Cold air rushed in.
Tommy’s breath caught.
For a moment he swore he smelled something in the air. Smoke. Leather. Mint. A scent tied so deeply to Dream that his stomach twisted hard enough to hurt.
Phil touched the back of his arm lightly, careful not to startle him. We are right here.
Tommy nodded. The wind stung his eyes. He stepped outside.
Somewhere in the trees a branch snapped.
Phil and Techno reacted instantly.
Tommy froze.
His pulse thundered.
His body braced for the familiar hand grabbing his hair from behind.
But no one touched him.
Not yet.
The night felt thick around Tommy, like the world itself had decided to press in on him. He sat on the edge of the cot that Phil insisted was comfortable, hands braced on his knees, staring at the dark smear of trees just past the window. He could feel the steady hum of the house, the faint creak of floorboards, the distant sound of Techno sharpening something in the attic. None of it settled him. Every sound only reminded him that he was not supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back in the room with the concrete walls and flickering lights and the smell of disinfectant that always clung to the air. He was supposed to be silent. He was supposed to be a tool.
His hands shook. He curled them into fists and forced them to stop. He could not let them see this. He could not let Phil or Wilbur look at him and see the cracks. He had spent too long learning how to smooth every edge of himself into something useful. He knew exactly how to sit without drawing attention, how to breathe without sounding afraid, how to move without looking like he had something to hide. But it was getting harder. Every hour in this house scraped something raw inside him. Every gentle voice made his skin crawl with the memory of someone else speaking softly before hurting him. Every act of kindness twisted into confusion in his mind until he felt sick.
He lay back on the cot and stared at the ceiling. The patterns in the plaster were uneven and faint. He counted the lines, tracing shapes that were not there, trying to distract his thoughts. It worked for a few moments. Then he blinked, and the ceiling seemed to blur. The shadows shifted just slightly, and he felt the room tilt. His chest tightened as the memory surged up without warning. The soft scrape of a chair moving across a dirty tiled floor. A calm voice telling him to sit up straight. A hand settling on his shoulder with almost comforting pressure. Then pain. Always pain.
He bolted upright, breathing hard, but the room was tame and familiar again. No harsh lights. No chemical bite in the air. No footsteps. Just the distant rumble.
Tommy swallowed hard, trying to steady his breathing as he curled his fingers into the blanket. The rumble from somewhere deeper in the house was ordinary and harmless, probably Techno shifting something heavy or Wilbur pacing again while trying to compose songs he never intended anyone to hear. But Tommy’s body did not understand the difference. His pulse raced, his muscles tensed, and the cold climbed up his spine like a warning he could never turn off. His mind kept insisting that the sound meant someone was coming, someone who would drag him back to the floor, someone who would tell him to stop flinching before grabbing him by the hair to force eye contact.
He stood quickly, needing to move, needing to prove to himself that he was not trapped. The wooden floor under his feet was warm. The air was real and soft instead of sharp and sterile. He crossed the room in slow, measured steps, each one a reminder of where he was. It did not calm him as much as he hoped. His fingers hovered near the window frame, touching it lightly as if expecting it to shock him. Nothing happened. He exhaled, a long, shaky breath that did very little to settle him.
Outside, the trees swayed in the wind, their branches scraping against each other in rhythmic patterns. The sound was harmless. His body still reacted to it like it was an alarm. He pressed his forehead against the glass and tried to focus on the cool surface. There was a time when he used to imagine windows as gateways, something to look through and dream beyond. In the facility they were impossible luxuries. He had been given walls and a single vent that whined endlessly. The idea of looking at a forest, of seeing something alive and uncontained, felt unreal even now.
Footsteps creaked softly from the hallway. Tommy’s breath snagged in his throat. He turned too fast, shoulders rigid, ready for something terrible. But it was only Wilbur, moving slowly so the floorboards would not make too much noise. He appeared in the doorway, hair messy and eyes tired. His voice was quiet.
Tommy stepped back automatically, more instinct than decision. Wilbur paused like he could feel the tension in the air. He lifted his hands slowly in a gesture that said he meant no harm. Tommy hated that relief washed through him, hated that he could not stop reacting like this even though he wanted to trust them, even though part of him did trust them. It was everything else inside him that refused to adjust.
Wilbur stayed in the doorway and did not move closer. His voice held a softness that made Tommy’s stomach twist with something warm and uncomfortable. Tommy did not answer. He could not. His throat felt tight and small, every word tangled up with fear and confusion. He looked away, staring at the floor, at the patterns in the wood that he knew by heart now. His breathing slowly evened out, but the tension in his shoulders stayed.
The house settled again, quiet except for the ticking of a clock somewhere down the hall. Tommy wrapped his arms around himself and tried to remember what calm was supposed to feel like. He could not summon the memory. All he could feel was the pull of the past and the strange safety of the present fighting each other until he felt hollow and dizzy.
He knew sleep would not come for him tonight. He knew the shadows in the corners would pull him backward into memories the moment he closed his eyes. So he stayed standing, watching Wilbur watch him, both of them waiting for the other to move first, both caught in the fragile stillness of a night that felt heavier than it should.
The night stretched on with a kind of slow, heavy weight that made the house feel too large and too quiet all at once. Tommy shifted on his feet and glanced toward the hallway again. Wilbur was still there, leaning his shoulder carefully against the frame, choosing not to cross the room. That choice mattered more than Wilbur probably understood. It let Tommy breathe even if the breaths were still shallow.
Tommy rubbed his forehead with the heel of his palm. His skin felt clammy and his thoughts kept skidding into the same corners. He hated how fast the panic rose now. Back in the facility, panic had been a punishable inconvenience. Panic meant you were reacting. Reacting meant they could take something from you to correct the behavior. Out here, he had nothing to lose but the feeling still crawled up his spine like electricity.
Wilbur finally spoke again. His voice was quiet in the way someone speaks when they’re trying not to spook a wounded animal. Tommy hated the comparison even as he knew it fit.
Tommy swallowed and tried to answer, but the words felt thick. His throat felt like it was closing which made him angry at himself more than anything else. He clenched his jaw until the pressure steadied him a little. He didn’t want Wilbur to see him like this. Pathetic and cornered. Like he was still in the room he could not name without feeling his chest tighten.
Instead of speaking, Tommy nodded once, a small gesture that barely counted. Wilbur nodded back like that was enough.
He shifted again, pushing his hair out of his face. His hands were shaking more than he wanted to admit. He tucked them into the sleeves of his hoodie before Wilbur could notice. It wasn’t cold. His body just never stopped reacting.
Wilbur finally stepped back from the doorway, giving Tommy more space. Tommy tracked the movement with tense eyes, expecting something sudden even when nothing happened. When Wilbur turned slightly, Tommy let out a breath he had been holding without realizing.
Wilbur didn’t leave completely. He lingered, waiting, giving Tommy the option to speak or follow or do nothing at all. Tommy stared down at the floor again. He wasn’t sure which option felt least overwhelming.
Eventually Wilbur asked if he wanted to sit in the living room instead of staying alone in the dark. The question was gentle. It didn’t demand anything. It only offered. Tommy hesitated. The idea of moving into a different room felt weirdly huge. But the idea of staying here with the shadows pressing in felt worse.
He finally lifted his head and shrugged. The motion was stiff but clear enough.
Wilbur accepted the answer without comment. He stepped back fully into the hallway, waiting for Tommy to walk on his own. That helped. It made Tommy feel like he was choosing something instead of being directed.
Tommy forced his feet forward. Each step was careful, like testing the floor for hidden traps he knew weren’t there. The hallway wasn’t dark enough to hide anything but it still made his heartbeat quicken. He kept his eyes trained on the light at the far end. Wilbur walked a few steps ahead, not looking back constantly, not hovering. Just close enough to make Tommy feel less like he was walking alone.
When they reached the living room, Wilbur switched on the small lamp beside the couch. The warm light lit the room softly, chasing away the corners that made Tommy tense. He exhaled, shoulders dropping a fraction.
Wilbur sat down at one end of the couch. Tommy stayed standing for a long moment, debating. Then he sank into the opposite end, keeping as much space as possible between them. He pulled his knees up, wrapping his arms around them, a position that made him feel small but grounded.
For a minute, neither of them spoke. The silence wasn’t as sharp as before. It settled around them in a way Tommy could actually tolerate.
Wilbur reached for a blanket draped over the back of the couch and held it out. He didn’t move closer. He didn’t insist. He just waited.
Tommy stared at it. His chest ached with something he couldn’t name. He reached out and took the blanket carefully. The fabric was soft against his hands, too soft, but it didn’t send him spiraling. He draped it over his legs and stared at the pattern stitched into it.
Wilbur leaned back, watching him with quiet eyes.
Tommy didn’t speak, but he didn’t leave either.
For the first time that night, the shadows stayed where they belonged.