Chapter Text
“i should move to a brand new city and teach myself how to die”
Mitski, “Brand New City”
Tommy’s soaked.
He scratches at his neck. The rest of his body is covered, thankfully. The ground is filthy, of course, and it’s damp. The wet grass soaks into his sweater - his favorite sweater, the one with cows on it.
He tilts his head up towards the sky. The sun is hidden behind the clouds, and it’s dark out. He’d woken up five hours prior to begin the travel out to the countryside. He closes his eyes and relaxes against the wet earth.
The ground could swallow him whole, and he wouldn’t mind at all too much.
“Uh… Excuse me, sir?”
Tommy cranks an angry eye open. “I’m in the middle of something.”
The man cleared his throat. Angrily, he sits up in a flurry. “It’s just--”
“You better be dying,” he says, huffing. It’s just a man. A younger man, but, still, it’s just a man. One who is not dying. “There’s not even any blood.”
“Right,” he croaks, pulling at his collar. “I’m the seller? I was gonna show you around.”
“I can explore on my own, thank you very much. You think just because I’m young - I don’t know what I’m doing? You think I’m so irresponsible--”
“My dad said you were my age,” the man interrupts. “I know you must be okay, otherwise he wouldn’t have sold it to you. I’m just here to show you the animals.”
God, Tommy hadn’t even gotten to meet them yet. Oh, god, okay, okay, maybe he’ll have to save ‘being swallowed by the earth’ for a later date.
“Alright, Big Man, tour time. Let’s meet some hotties.”
Tommy climbs off the ground. He knocks some stray pieces of grass and flocks to the stranger’s side. “Right, then,” he says, clearing his throat. “Your name’s Tommy?”
“Tommy, he/him.” He pauses. “You don’t need to tell me your name. I don’t make friends with wrong-uns.”
He furrowed his eyebrows tightly. “Why am I a wrong-un? I’m here-- Tommy, I’m here to help you.”
“You’re rather bald, you know.”
He twitches. “...You got something against bald people?”
...Yes.
“No,” he says. He pauses. “If I say yes, will you still show me the animals?”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dad did warn me that you were a bit of an asshole.” Unprompted, he reaches his hand out. “My name’s Jack.”
“Glad to meet you, Jack. I’m looking forward to never seeing you again.”
Tommy grins, and Jack shakes his head. They walk past the manor and towards a stone path. There’s a stable in the distance, under a small clearing.
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news…” His snarky grin indicates otherwise. “It’s a small town. We see a lot of each other.”
“I’m living off the grid,” Tommy says, basking in the nature around them. It’s mirky outside, yet still beautiful. He picks his boot up from a mud splatter and grins. “Completely self-reliant, just me and nature. No one else.”
“Completely without people? But…”
“I was promised solidarity when your dad sold me this estate. He said as long as the animals are well taken care of, he won’t be visiting, and it’ll just be--”
“It’s okay.” Jack’s stops in his tracks and raises his hands. “Tommy, it’s alright, he didn’t lie. No need to panic.”
He whips his head around and points an accusatory finger towards him. “I’m not panicking. People like me.”
Jack bites his lip. “Didn’t say they didn’t, mate.”
They stare at each other for a long, awkward second before Jack gives in. They continue their path towards the manor.
As if not getting the hint, Jack prompts, “Not a fan of people?”
He hesitates. “Not a fan of…”
It’s not a hard question.
Tommy loves people. He loves talking to people. He loves holding hands with people, and sharing time with people.
People can love Tommy. Some people do. Some people did.
It’s dangerous.
He decided not too long ago that being alone would mean safety.
“I love animals.” It’s not a lie. He’s directly avoiding Jack’s question, but he has no intention of elaborating. “Your father promised he won’t come here.”
“He won’t,” he repeats. “Promise. It’s only you on this land. If I come up to visit, I’ll give you a heads up.”
“And there’s no one else nearby?”
Jack points towards the direction they came. “Across the street and through the fields, there’s a potato farmer. He’s reclusive, though, so you don’t have to worry about him coming to bother you. He’s got a scary dog, though, so tread lightly if you dare go up and bother him.”
Tommy listens. They reach a stable, and Jack leans over the small goat pen. There’s two total. The smaller one ignores Jack, and the bigger one trots up to the fence upon seeing him. “Got it. Anyone else?”
He thinks for a moment. “There’s a cottage not too far from here. Homeowner’s a weirdo, though. He won’t come out here.”
“I live next to a possible murderer?”
“I didn’t say that!” Jack scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t even know his name. He’s tall and pretty, but he’s… I dunno.”
“That’s so helpful,” Tommy chides sarcastically. “Am I gonna get murdered?”
It’s a joke, but he still scratches at his neck. It’s a phantom itch. The cut’s faded into a scar, but for a second, it burns.
“People out here are nice,” Jack says. “It’s… peaceful out here. It’ll just be you and the animals.”
Tommy carefully holds his hand out to the goat. The bigger one carefully approaches him, and as soon as the snout pushes against his hand, he’s able to let out a short chuckle. “That does sound nice.”
In fact, it’s all he ever wanted.
It’s what Tommy needs. More than anything, he needs a break from the world that’s hurt him so. He leans over the fence and presses his forehead against the goat’s. “Hello,” he coos. “I’m Tommy. It’s a pleasure to meet you, beautiful.”
He lingers for a moment. He pulls away from the goat to face Jack, who’s smiling up at him like an asshole. “What’s your problem?”
“Nothin’,” he says, grinning. “Come on. I’ll show you the chickens and the sheep next.”
It’s a relatively small farm. It’s just big enough to keep Tommy busy and small enough that he can handle it all himself.
The chickens dart away from Tommy. The sheep are more friendly, but the two of them are still laying on their sides. They’re soft to the touch, but both are in desperate need of a shearing.
“Dad said you’ve done this before.”
“I had a summer job on a farm before,” Tommy replies, running his hands over the sheep’s neck. “They’re in good hands.”
“I don’t doubt it.” They leave the stable, and Jack heads off towards the side. “Now heads up, he’s kind of an asshole.”
“There’s more?” He picks up his pace to trot next to Jack. Oh, god, he thought it would only be chickens, sheep, and the goats. “Do you guys have pigs?”
“We did have a potbelly pig, but I took him home as a pet,” Jack counters. “So, no. Don’t get too excited. This isn’t a best for last situation.”
His excitement does not simmer. It, in fact, grows as they near the fence. It’s a larger pin, so Tommy’s about to guess horses when he sees the animal. “Oh my god! ”
“He’s a bitch,” Jack warns.
Tommy steps up on the fence and leans over. Far off in the distance, there’s a beautiful brown cow. “Hello,” he coos softly, in awe. “Hello, what’s your name?”
“His name’s Henry,” Jack says, even though Tommy hadn’t even asked him.
“Henry,” he echoes. “He’s so pretty.”
“And a bitch, don’t forget it.” Tommy glares at him. “Do you have any questions about anything?”
“When do you leave?”
“Ha ha,” he grumbles. “You have my number in case you need anything.”
“I won’t need it. I’m responsible. It’s my middle name.”
Jack squints at him. “I know for a fact your middle name is Danger among some other ungodly ones I can’t remember. Your parents must’ve been interesting ones.”
“I named myself, thank you very much,” he retorts. “I can change my name again to responsible, if you’d like.”
Jack considers this for a moment. He stiffens, as if trying to dig something up from his words. “Even if you are responsible, it’s… it can get lonely out here.”
“I don’t need people,” Tommy sputters, resisting the urge to scratch at his neck. “I’ll be okay.”
“Sometimes… it’s nice to have a friend.” Jack looks away at the fields. The sky is darkening, and it’s getting harder to see.
“I don’t need friends, but thanks.”
Jack scoffs. “Okay, okay.” He peeks out to the spot where there’s a ‘Tommy’ indent in the grass. “It’ll rain soon.”
“Obviously, dickhead.”
Jack shrugs. “Well, your bags are still outside, so…”
Back at the house, his bags are laid about. The second he got here, he dropped his stuff down and sprawled out on the grass. He must’ve been there for a while before Jack arrived.
“Right.” The first water droplet hits his face. “Fuck.”
“I’ll leave you to it,” Jack chirps, waving his hand as he walks off towards his car. “My offer still stands.”
“To help me move my furniture?”
“For a friend!” he calls over his shoulder. “You’ll miss people soon enough, and when you do, call me.”
Tommy glares at him as he leaves. His back is turned to him, so it’s safe to stick his tongue out at him and gag.
“I won’t miss people, actually, and if I do, I sure as hell won’t be calling the likes of you, bastard!”
He doesn’t reply. He walks off, and Tommy fumes further.
The rain pours down harder.
“Fuck,” he grumbles, taking off in a panic towards his house.
He didn’t escape out here with much. He had a mere couple bags to his name. Soon, maybe, he’d have to go shopping. Not that he knows if the town even has many malls or any of the sort to help him get started.
For now, the bags and the bare home is enough for him. He kicks the bags and boxes further into his living room, and he basks in the space.
He locks his door and sprawls out on his couch. If he had a blanket, he would’ve buried himself in it. He curls up, exhausted from his travels, and closes his eyes.
-
The rain is still hitting the roof by the time he wakes up. His mouth is dry, and his eyes are still crusty. He yawns and rolls over the side of his couch.
The cupboards are bare, but he finds a cup and fills it with water. He almost chugs it down in one go before a crackle of lightning sounds.
He startles, and the cup slips out of his grasp. He reels, blinking. There’s a second where he stares down at his feet where the cup’s shattered. There’s a mess of water on the floor.
The rain pounds down heavily against his roof.
Tommy’s eighteen. He’s a homeowner now. He lives alone out in a country in a home he bought all himself. He’s responsible - he’s an adult.
He’s completely alone in an unknown world.
It’s what he wanted. No, genuinely, this is all he ever wanted. He wanted to get away from everything that hurt him. Memories and people he wanted so desperately to bury.
He did. He got on a train and traveled for five hours to a place nobody would know his name. He’s planned for this for years, ever since he got his first job. He worked two jobs to save up just so he could be here.
He sinks to his knees by his bags so he can yank out a blanket. Lightning strikes once again, and he crumbles within himself.
He falters, hands shaking in front of him. He struggles to get the zipper down, but his hands are shaking too much to move the zipper.
Tommyinnit, eighteen years of age and now proud homeowner, is terrified of lightning.
His skin is itchy from where he fell asleep in his wet clothes, but he doesn’t dare going upstairs and changing now. It’s not safe. In fact, he can barely move from his spot. All he wants is a blanket to crumble underneath.
If his house gets struck by lightning and caught on fire, he’d die alone. No one would be here to find the body, and it’d be like all those years ago. He’d be a child again, scared and alone as he suffers.
It’s an irrational thought. Tommy shakes anyways. The thought digs under his skin and makes a home in his chest. It aches, and he scratches at his neck.
Another flash of lightning sends him reeling.
The animals!
Tommy scrambles to dig his feet into his shoes. He barely has them on when he stumbles out the door into the rain. The sky is overcast. It must be around evening, but it’s so dark out it looks like night.
He runs at lightning speed (no pun intended) towards the stables. He leads the goats back safely under the stables. The chickens are free range, and they happily go back into their home. The sheep, likewise, are ducked under an overhead covering.
Once the goats are safely inside, he moves on to the sheep. They’re perfectly okay, but god, they must be so scared. He climbs into the pen with them and sits next to them. The sheep approaches him carefully, and he pets her in return. The lightning cracks again, and Tommy falls forward and buries his face into the side of the sheep.
“We’re okay,” he consoles. It’s directed to the sheep. “We’re gonna be okay.” Tommy isn’t scared, but the animals must be. “It’ll pass soon. It’ll all be over soon.”
The rain does not pass soon. In fact, the storm only seems to get worse. “It’ll pass,” he manages through gritted teeth.
He looks away from the threatening sky into the comforting wool until it hits him.
Henry.
Oh, shit, he forgot about the fucking cow. He ducks out from the pen in a hurry and out from the stables.
It’s fucking terrifying outside. Even someone who isn’t scared of storms (which Tommy totally isn’t, for the record) would be scared to step outside in this.
“Henry, papa’s coming!” he calls, taking off in a dead sprint. He can see the poor thing in the distance, and he pushes off the ground with more force. His foot gets caught in a hole, and he stumbles forward.
Poor baby’s gotta be so scared… Tommy pulls himself up, cringing as his ankle throbs. He staggers to his feet and stumbles as quickly as he can to the fence.
“Henry!” Tommy calls to the cow. “Come on, baby, let’s get you inside.”
He safely leads Henry back under the roof. “Are you scared?” He runs his hands over the cow’s neck and drops his face in front of him. “It’ll be okay, Henry. Papa’s here. We’ll be okay.”
He settles on the dry straw. Henry moves to lay down next to him, and he curls up naturally next to the cow’s stomach.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he mumbles once more before his eyes flutter shut. He turns away from the storming sky and takes refuge in the quiet stable.
When Tommy wakes again, it’s still raining. Henry is in the same spot, curled up around Tommy. “Hi,” he greets. “Hello, you.” Henry’s not ready to wake up, so Tommy leaves him be. He stands up out of the straw and raises his arms over his head.
There’s pieces of straw and leftover grass stuck to his sweater. His hair’s messy and clinging to his face. He’s a bit overdue for a shower, but right now, all he wants to do is curl back under something warm.
He leaves food out for Henry, even though he’s not awake yet. He climbs out over the fence and checks back in on the other animals. The chickens are fine, squawking at one another from the safety of the roof. The goats are snoozing away next to one another. He climbs into the sheep pen where one of them greets him.
And he realizes there’s one less than there’s supposed to be.
“What the fuck?” The sheep raises her head. “No, there were two of you.” The sheep presses her head against his knee. He stands up in a panic and lifts his nails to his mouth. “There were two of the cunts, wasn’t there?”
Agonizingly, the sheep bleats at him. “I’m a horrible father, aren’t I?” She bleats once more. “Oh, goddammit.”
He could’ve only had dozed off for a couple of minutes. Ever since he’s got here, he’s done nothing but sleep. It could’ve only been a couple of minutes, so hopefully the sheep hasn’t gotten far.
He jumps over the fence in a panic. His legs are sore (even though he’s done nothing outside of kicking some bags into his house), but an adrenaline rush has him running out from the stables. There’s no marks in the grass, but in the clearing, there’s no sign of life.
If Tommy was a runaway sheep, he’d probably go steal a car or something that sheep normally don’t do. But Tommy’s not your average sheep.
He’s actually a fucking idiot.
The clearing is muddy and empty, so Tommy heads into the forest instead. He’s drenched from head to toe, and his teeth are chattering against one another. “Sheep!” he calls out, stepping over mud puddles and stray branches. “Sheep, where are you?”
It’s dark out in the forest. He can barely make out the stones at his feet. He picks up his pace, but he has to hold his hands out in front of him in case he stumbles.
Again, the thought of dying alone out in the woods occurs to him. “Not the time for existential crises, Tom,” he scolds, slapping the side of his face. “Rescue mission time. Du-du-du.”
Tommy’s sneaker snags on a tree root, and he collides into the ground. He pushes his hands against the ground and cringes at the wet clumps clinging to his palms. “God fuckin’ dammit,” he curses, staggering to his feet. “Sheep! Sheep!”
There’s no response.
He sighs to himself and continues deeper into the forest. He whips his head around. No longer can he see the lights on the stable.
It’s only Tommy and the mildly terrifying dark forest.
…
“Sheep, where the fuck are you, baby?”
He’s getting the sheep and running for the hills. His heart’s beating against his rib cage much harder than it’s supposed to be.
In the distance, his solace, there’s a light. It’s faint, but god, he’d give anything to see his hands again. If he was a sheep, he’d probably head towards the light.
Unless… He died out in the woods, and he’s nearing a bad light, in which case he should turn back now.
Tommy pauses in his tracks.
Nah. It’s fine.
It’s most likely fine.
He steps over a mess of rocks into a small clearing. There’s a lantern by the pond. The soft amber light flickers across the pond. His sheep lay on her back legs to rest near the water under the light.
“Sheep!” he proclaims, bursting out from the trees. “Sheep, are you--”
It’s not just Tommy out here in the woods.
In the flickering lights, there’s a sheep. At her side, there’s also a tall man standing in the water. He’s ankles deep in the water with his hands palm-up to the sky.
“What the fuck are you doing stealing my sheep?”
The man turns, slowly, and Tommy flinches. “I didn’t steal her! She came right up to me.”
Tommy rolls his eyes. “Oh, yeah, bet she walked right up to the creepy man balls deep in the woods!”
“I’m not a creepy man,” the creepy man retorts.
“I beg to fucking differ.” He crouches down and beckons for the sheep to come to him. “Come here, sheep. Away from the weirdo.”
“If anything, Friend’s scared of you. You’re covered head to toe in grime, and I can smell you from here.”
“I don’t smell, you fuckin’-- did you call her Friend?”
The stranger steps out of the pond. “Friend,” he parrots. “It’s a fitting name.”
“Well, that’s my sheep, and I would never name her a weird ass name like that.”
Amusement flickers over his face. He picks up his lantern off the ground. “You’ve been calling her ‘sheep.’”
“I’ve only just met her, you prick.”
“You’re not the farmer’s son?” The man shrinks back.
“No,” he grumbles. “I don’t look bald to you, do I?”
He bites back a small smile. “No, I suppose you’re not. You lost then, kid? It’s not safe in these woods.”
“Clearly,” he scoffs. “Wait. You’re the axe murderer, aren’t you?”
His eyebrow twitches. “No…?”
“You are!” He points an accusatory finger. “Jack said you were the tall and pretty man that was a little off!”
He furrows his eyebrows together. “That’s what the farmer’s boy called me? Really?” He grabs his chin. “I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted.”
“Insulted,” he answers for him. “Definitely insulted.”
“Right. He told you I was an axe murderer?”
“I can infer things myself, thank you,” Tommy quips. “Step away from my sheep, creepy axe murderer man.”
“How do I know you’re not a thief? I mean, I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“We can keep it that way.” He steps towards the stranger and holds his hands out to the sheep. She ignores Tommy and rubs her snout against the axe murderer’s legs. “I just -- I promise I’m not a thief. Step back before I shoot you, creep.”
“You threaten to shoot me, yet I’m the murderer? Kid, are you lost? Is there someone I can call, or…?”
“I just moved here, you prick.”
“Farmer’s boy move back in from the city? It’s not a surprise, if you let out Friend in the middle of a hellstorm.”
He flinches, scratching at his skin. “It was an accident!” he yelps, stomping at the ground. “It’s not my fault! I’m good with the animals, I’d never hurt one, and--”
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” the stranger interrupts, raising his hands. Tommy’s breath catches in his throat. “I was kidding. I’m sorry.”
He sticks his nose up. “You’re not very funny.”
“Duly noted.”
He pats the sheep and guides her towards Tommy, but the animal doesn’t budge. “Give me my sheep back.”
“Think she’s scared…”
“Yeah, of you, probably,” Tommy grumbles. Any second now, it could start storming again. He doesn’t trust the darkened sky, nor does he trust the shady man in front of him. He’s half tempted to snag the sheep out from his hands and book it.
His throbbing ankle and the dark woods don’t let him.
“Ha ha,” he says, rolling his eyes. He returns to the sheep and bites his lip. “Friend must’ve got scared and ran off.”
“How do you know her, anyways? Do I need to keep an eye out for you breaking into my property?”
“May I remind you you’re standing on my property right now?”
“Are you stupid? We’re in my backyard!”
The man blinks. “You’re… kid, you’re in my yard.” He jabs a thumb behind him.
“You’re the axe murderer neighbor,” Tommy confirms, shivering.
“You seriously just moved in? I didn’t know the farmer had another kid.”
“He sold the estate to me. I just moved here - not that it’s any of your business.”
“Right… Well, a tip--”
“I don’t need any help from you--”
“It’s about Friend.”
Tommy fidgets.
“She has a tendency to run off when she’s scared.”
Tommy picks at his sweater. “I know, I know… I’ll keep a better eye on her during the storms.”
He purses his lips and stands up. He tries to guide Friend towards Tommy, but she doesn’t budge. “It’s weird, though. She doesn’t get scared of storms.”
“I bet you ‘napped her.”
“No,” he snarls, throwing his head back. “Listen, kid--”
“Quit with that,” he interrupts, scowling at him. “My name’s Tommy, and I’m not a fuckin’ kid.”
“Right, okay,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Well, Tommy, I’m Wilbur. I’m your new neighbor.”
A prick is what you are.
“And Friend tends to get spooked, and when she does, she heads towards my cottage.”
“Great, so we’re making a habit of you stealing my sheep?”
He pinches his nose. “You’re a shit listener. I didn’t-- okay. Point is… Friend only gets scared when someone else is scared. So…”
Oh.
Oh.
He stiffens up and digs his nails into his side. “I don’t even get scared! Why would you even -- What kind of bullshit? The hell you on about, saying - pfft! Scared. Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit isn’t scared of nobody! I don’t know nobody, and I keep it that way!”
“You, uh, go on tangents like this lots, Tommy Careful Danger Kraken Innit?”
“Don’t full name me, bitch,” he warns, wagging a finger. “I oughta clart you, slandering my name like that. Really…” He puffs out his chest. “Big men don’t get scared.”
“I’m just saying… Next time anyone gets scared,” Wilbur says, drawing attention to ‘anyone,’ “stay clear of Friend. She can pick up on people’s anxiety, and it’ll make her nervous.” That’s a bit of a problem. Tommy’s almost always anxious. He likes to think it doesn’t show through at all. If people don’t notice it, there’s no way the sheep’s going to.
Then again, animals are a lot smarter than humans.
Better, too.
“Did… something happen?”
Tommy looks up sharply.
“Pardon?”
“She’s… still a bit nervous. She, uh… I think that’s why she won’t go back with you.”
“The hell you tryin’ to insinuate, ya bastard?” He stomps over. His fear is replaced with anger, and he moves to tug at Friend, who bleats at him in response. He shrinks back, hands in the air. “I’m not even anxious!”
“...Right.”
“I’m not!”
“...I’m gonna head back to my house.” He turns to leave, and without thinking, Tommy steps forward.
“Wait, you’re not even gonna help me get her back? She won’t come near me!”
His back is turned to him. “Once you calm down, she’ll follow you home.”
“I am calm! She just -- come on, be a good neighbor, man… We just met! Don’t you want a good impression?”
He turns his head around slowly. “You got this, kid. You can calm down.”
“I am calm! I’m so calm, I don’t know why you think… Just, come on, help me get her back up. You stole her, anyways, so it’s the least you can do, asshole.”
He sighs, turning around fully. “Only ‘cause you asked so nicely, ” he chides sarcastically. “Are you sure it’s not me? ‘Cause I can leave.”
“No, it’s totally you. You stole my sheep.”
“I actually didn’t. Why would I drag your sheep down into the woods?”
“I dunno,” he shrugs. “You seem like a weird guy, Wilbur. Why are you out in the woods, anyways?”
He grins, which he’s sure is not the appropriate reaction to his question. Once again, he’s filled with the urge to jolt.
Tommy gets nervous around people. They’re unpredictable. Even with people he likes, he can’t relax. They can lash out at any second, or they can lie. Tommy’s given up on reading people and understanding them. As far as trusting one? That was out the window a long time ago.
Here, it’s only him, the trees, and the animals.
Or, at least, that’s what it’s supposed to be.
“Maybe I am a bit of a weird guy,” Wilbur replies, which is not the appropriate response to his question. “Not dangerous, though. Not an ‘axe murderer’ or a ‘thief.’ Feel free to think what you’d like, though.”
“I don’t care who you are,” Tommy bites back. “Help me get this sheep back up, and we never have to speak again.”
“I just… I won’t hurt you.”
“Obviously, dickhead!” Tommy spits. “Even if you tried, I wouldn’t let you. I have a gun, you know.”
“I don’t think you do,” he winces, beginning to walk towards Tommy. He holds his lantern in one hand and guides Friend with the other. “I don’t doubt you can take care of yourself, if you managed to get all the way out here in one piece.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Well, these woods? They’re not exactly safe. There’s spiders, snakes… Anything that’ll bite you, you name it. We probably have it.”
He ponders. “A tiger?”
“Not… Think forest animals? Not to scare you, but… I’d check for bites once you're home.”
“We get Friend home in one piece, then I can worry about some mosquito bites.”
Wilbur grins. He joins him by the trees Tommy burst through. He holds the lantern high in the air so Tommy can start walking the long trail back. Friend is a barrier between them as they struggle up the rocky path.
“What’re you grinning at?”
“You called her Friend.”
Tommy stops in his tracks. “No, I didn’t!”
“You totally did,” Wilbur laughs. “It’s alright. It’s her name.”
“Oh, piss off.”
Tommy grumbles more curses under his breath. Just his luck, his new neighbor’s an asshole.
Honestly, though, he’d take an axe murderer over his old roommates. Living in a house where Tommy was constantly in fear of his safety. He barely made it through highschool.
He worked two jobs until he was able to graduate. He didn’t mind it, though. He was exhausted all the time and slept through his classes, but he genuinely didn’t mind. If he was out at work after school, he didn’t have to be at home. He got an escape from it for as long as possible.
He picks at his itchy sweater sleeves. He’s free now. He never has to go back there, he doesn’t have to see either of those bastards ever again.
“I doubt your parents would’ve been mad.”
Ice cold shock runs through his veins. His -- “My what?” It’s darker out in the forest. There’s no moonlight here under the trees. There’s only the small amber light from Wilbur’s lantern.
“Don’t mean to overstep, but if you were worried they’d be upset, I’m sure they’d understand. It’s a big responsibility. It’s not your fault.”
His breath hitches. He understands at the bare level that Wilbur was probably trying to comfort him. Poor bastard probably thought he was scared of his parents.
His hands ghost over his neck.
Maybe he is.
Was.
Not any fucking more.
“Yeah, my mom’s gonna kick my ass,” Tommy laughs, even as anger seeps into his chest. “If you can hurry up, maybe she won’t notice.”
“I could not help you.”
“You have to! You bitch, there’s no backing out now!”
He looks behind him. “Nah, I could very easily march my happy ass back home.”
“No, it’s your own--Fuck!” Tommy steps forward as he turns to leave, and his foot slips on a wet rock. He tumbles forward instantly, and his already throbbing ankle twists once more. He crashes against the ground.
“Oh my god, are you alright?” Wilbur rushes to his side, and Tommy raises a hand up in the air. Wilbur gets the hint and keeps his distance from Tommy. He keeps the lantern raised so he can see as he picks himself back up.
“My sweater’s got a hole in it,” he says, holding it out to peer down at the fabric.
Wilbur sighs, holding a hand over his heart. “Scared the shit out of me. Watch your step, kid. I told you it’s not safe out here.”
“My middle name isn’t Careful Danger-- I’m bleeding.”
“What?” Wilbur raises the lantern closer to Tommy. He holds out his hands. There’s a deep cut across his palm. “Oh. Oh, shit. That’s bad.”
He lets Wilbur get close to him to shine the light against the crimson red pooling from the cut. Tommy blinks at it and watches it slowly pool up and start to trickle down his wrist.
“...my? Can you hear me?”
“Pardon?”
He blinks, and Wilbur’s in his face. “You’re not gonna pass out, are you?”
He wipes his hands on his jeans, and Wilbur lets out a strangled yelp. “What’s your deal, man?”
“God, you’re gonna get an infection, quit that. Stop looking at your hands.”
Even though he just wiped the blood off, more blood pools. “It’s bleeding.”
“Stop looking at it,” Wilbur repeats. “You got a blood thing?”
Groggily, he pulls himself back to his senses. “No.” It’s not really a lie. It’s not totally the truth, either. “Just remembered something.”
There’s a pause. Tommy shouldn’t have said that, he 100% sure should not have said that. He doesn’t think before he talks. It’s a bit too late for him to start now. Eighteen years, innit?
“Cut it out. I’m not dragging you and your sheep back up these woods.”
“I’m not a pussy, Wilbur.” He holds his bloody hands up in Wilbur’s face. “You gonna pass out at the blood?”
“That’s so insensitive,” he chimes, but he starts to laugh to himself. “You’re a bit of an asshole kid. Worse than the farmer’s boy, though, I am glad he’s gone.”
“I can at least agree with you there. Jack’s a bit weird.” He pauses. “Not that you can say anything, being an axe murderer and all.”
He sucks in a deep breath. “Would you quit it with that?”
“Hmm…” He considers it. “Nah.”
“At least you’re not gonna bring those kids around here. The three of them were a nightmare. Even through the trees, I could still hear them. I didn’t know a human could be so loud .”
He’d have to test out his walls.
Tommy talks to himself, and it’s not a habit he plans on breaking anytime soon.
“I’m quiet. Like a - like a mouse. That’s me.” Sweat beads at the back of his neck.
“I moved out here for the quiet,” Wilbur explains. “It’s peaceful, really. Beautiful. Watch your step here.” A hand shoots out, and Tommy steps to the side. He has to stay close enough to share the light of the lantern, but he keeps enough distance to rest easy.
Friend walks between them, but every so often, Wilbur has to pick her up to guide her through the rough patches.
“It is rather beautiful, isn’t it?”
Wilbur snorts. The lantern sways in his hands as he cackles. “You’ve seen nothing yet, Tommyinnit. It’s dark and murky out. I like the rain just fine, I do, but… God, when it’s sunny out here? It’s… It’s breathtaking.”
Tommy envisions it. It’s easy to dream when he can barely make out any sight in these woods. “I can’t wait to see it.” He can imagine, for now. He can dream.
“Yeah,” Wilbur agrees in a shaky exhale. “I think you’ll like it here.”
God, I can only hope I do.
A hand shoots out in front of Tommy. He brushes against the hand and stumbles back, but he’s quick to steady him. “Sorry,” Wilbur apologizes awkwardly. “Please, uh, don’t hurt yourself again. You don’t wanna scare your mom more than that nasty cut.”
At their feet, there’s some more sharp rocks. Wilbur hands over the lantern to Tommy, who accepts it with his shaky fingers. Wilbur scoops up Friend in his arms and gracefully steps across.
Tommy falters. “Don’t trip again.”
“Gee, thanks,” he grumbles. “Any other helpful tips, bastard?”
“You got it,” he quips. “Just don’t fall.”
“Said that one already,” he sings. He sucks in a deep breath before jumping across it. His foot slips for a second, but he’s already jumping off once more. He thinks he’s just about to miss the flat ground when Wilbur reaches out a hand. Tommy dives and barrels into the ground. He sticks the landing and rolls to the side.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I could ask you the same thing,” Tommy sputters, sitting up. “Were you gonna try and grab me?”
He tugs his fingers through his messy hair. “Yes!” he cries, panicked. “You almost ate shit!”
“I was fine! God, if anything, you made it worse ‘cause you tried to grab me.”
“I was gonna help yank you to the other side.”
“Whatever you say, weirdo,” he chimes. “Touch me again, and I’ll clart you.”
“Next time I guess I’ll let you fall.” He sighs. “I worry, though, that I’m gonna drop you off and your parents are gonna have a startle. Not to be rude, but you look like you’ve been to hell and back.”
“It’s just a tiny cut.” He raises his hands for emphasis, and he cringes in response.
“You’re soaking wet, covered in mud and whatever the hell those stains are, and your teeth are chattering. Anyone would have a heart attack if you stumbled into the house like that.”
His heart pangs with the lie. There’s no one waiting for him in that big empty house.
He shakes his head. His house. His home. Tommy’s home.
“Look, there’s the exit up here. Come on, Friend. Almost there…”
Wilbur’s talking to the sheep, but the sentiment spreads to Tommy. He quickened his pace and pushed past the bushes. The walk back was much longer than the run down thanks to his now hurt ankle and fatigued body.
Friend doesn’t give any resistance and follows Wilbur back to the stables. Tommy’s wary of having him around the other animals, but he lets it slide with how much Friend trusts him. “There you go, girl,” he praises, “In you go.”
Friend takes refuge from the downpour next to her penmate. Tommy lets out a loud, exaggerated sigh of relief. “And stay,” he adds.
Wilbur beams up at him. “There. All safe and sound. Make sure she doesn’t get out again.” Wilbur turns to leave, and his heart clenches.
“It’s a long walk back.”
“It’s not too bad. I know the way.”
Sheepishly, he hangs his head. “Since you did help get Friend back… you can come in, if you want.”
“That’s okay. I’m not bothered by the rain.”
“It’s dark, though. You said it yourself. The woods aren’t safe.”
“I’m a grown man.”
“Look, I’m not putting you at gunpoint or anything! I was just offering. It’s wet, and I don’t like owing people favors - even if it was your fault Friend got out.”
“It definitely was not my fault.”
“That’s debatable. Get in my house.”
“I’m sure your mother will be thrilled that her son brought home some strange man from the rain. It’s fine. I can take care of myself.”
Tommy crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, asshole, but we’re even. I don’t owe you shit.”
“You don’t owe me shit,” he agrees. “Get home safe, Tommy.”
“Yeah,” he says, watching the strange man turn his back to him. “You too, Wilbur.”
He heads back into the break in the trees, and he was gone.
“oh, lord, i wish things were the same, nowadays.
we’d go back to your place when we’re done.”
willis, “i think i like it when it rains”