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“Run, fucker! See if I care!”
Tommy was shaking so badly he almost couldn’t open his door. All he could hear was shouting, and that was all it took to send him into overdrive.
He flung his door open and locked it behind him, staggering back as he stared. He bit on his fingers, tears falling down his cheek and wetting his hand.
He wasn’t a baby, he was a big man, but sometimes he felt like a baby. When his dad yelled at him, when he pushed him to the ground, when he’d slap him across the face for his insolence, Tommy felt small.
He felt like a baby, tiny and whining and so powerless it made him cry like a baby too.
He just wanted someone to help him when he couldn’t help himself.
When Tommy heard footsteps down the hall and a bedroom door slam, he finally took a real breath in.
Then his lungs betrayed him by letting out a wheezing sob.
Tommy slumped to the floor, arms around his legs and head on his knees. He let out ugly cries, soaking his jeans and pushing himself up against the wall, under the window.
He rocked himself slowly, pulling himself into a more gentle hug.
He couldn’t be alone right now.
He couldn’t do this.
The thought came easily.
Wilbur.
A switch in Tommy flipped- he stood, eyes searching for his phone. He spotted it on his bed, reaching up and snagging it from atop the covers.
He wiped his tears and easily found Wilbur’s contact, his picture one they’d taken on Tommy’s 12th birthday. Wilbur’s face was covered in frosting with Tommy in the background, trying to steal his phone back. He remembered it fondly, even if it was the first birthday since Tommy’s mother left.
Tommy’s father hadn’t taken her absence well. Neither of them did. That year, Tommy had baked his own cake and wrapped his own presents, the same routine he still did 3 years later.
But Wilbur was there. He baked and laughed and he shared it with Tommy, just like how he was always there.
He’d be there now, too.
The thought comforted Tommy.
Me
Can u come pick me up?
I’m at home
Tommy had met Wilbur in the after school program a whole 8 something years ago. Wilbur was one of the tutors in the program, but since Wilbur didn’t know how to do Tommy’s math homework either (forget that Tommy was in first grade and Wilbur in ninth), they just played board games the whole time.
Tommy cherished those memories more than anything.
Wilbur was the first and only person who listened to him, who payed him attention and acted like he actually wanted to be around Tommy.
Needless to say, all that overwhelming attention for little first grade Tommy was enough to make him see Wilbur as an older brother within a few months of knowing him. Wilbur accepted the title, and for the rest of that year, they’d been two peas in a pod.
Tommy met his family, his cat, he even called Phil (Wilbur’s dad) ‘dad’ a few times and Phil let him. It was nice.
They stayed in close contact since, even coincidentally living close by.
They were brothers, in all senses of the word. They could live in different houses, live separate lives, but they were brothers until the end. Tommy practically grew up with Wilbur, the older always being with him when he needed it the most. He stayed by Tommy’s side, and Tommy didn’t know what he’d do without him.
Tommy loved him.
Tommy watched the dots indicating that Wilbur was typing bounce on the bottom of the screen.
Wil
I’ll be there soon.
Tommy sighed in relief, tipping his head back to rest on the side of his bed. He closed his eyes, setting down his phone and rubbing his face.
He had no clue why he asked Wilbur to pick him up- and he had no clue how it was going to work.
Going out through his window would be the sneakiest option, but Wilbur would know Tommy was being sneaky. Then he’d ask questions, and Tommy didn’t want questions- he just wanted to get away.
He could go through the front door. He’d have to avoid the creaky floorboards and try his best to quietly use the door, but it could work. Well, it would have to, since the window had thorny bushes below it that he’d really rather not tangle with.
Tommy then went onto his next mission- packing an overnight bag. It really wasn’t all that hard, since he always had a ‘just in case’ bag in his closet. He didn’t really know what the ‘just in case’ situation would look like, but he thought he’d know it when it happened.
Escaping and running felt different. Now, Tommy was escaping. The bag's true purpose was for running.
(Maybe one day, he’ll have the guts to.)
Tommy zipped up all the pockets and slung it over his shoulder, pocketing a few things around his room, too.
He needed to stop stalling.
No use delaying the inevitable.
As quietly as he could, Tommy opened his door and closed it behind him, slowly turning the knob to hush the shifting gears. He tiptoed down the hallway, jumping around to avoid the creaky boards and the furniture in the living room.
When he got to the front door, he hesitated.
He could either do it as quickly as possible and sort of quiet, or as slow as possible but risk the loud screeching of hinges.
Fuck it. (It’d work either way, Wilbur was outside by now.)
Tommy slowly cracked the door an inch, quickly opened it enough to slip through, then closed it back up just as quietly. It was an unusually silent process- his front door never acted like it wasn’t its own alarm system. Not that he wasn’t complaining, that is.
Luck just happened to be on his side, it seemed.
After a moment of waiting, there was no indication that his father heard anything.
Tommy swiveled around and raced down the driveway without even looking for a car.
But of course, Wilbur’s blue Toyota Corolla (with more than a few repairs needed) was sitting just beyond the house’s property.
Tommy breathed a sigh in relief, running up to the car and entering, swinging his backpack around to hold it in his lap. Once he got himself situated in the passenger seat, he finally looked up to the driver.
It was hard to make out Wilbur in the low lighting of the car, only illuminated by random buttons and knobs on the dash. Even so, he could see Wilbur offering a comforting smile, his posture relaxed and overall emitting safety. His hair was a little longer, his frame much taller and more pronounced eyebags than all those years ago. That was how Tommy remembered Wilbur, and that was how he’d always stay.
There was naturally a hint of concern, though, but it was dismissed as Wilbur pulled out of the neighborhood and down the street.
Tommy didn’t think much about the roads or landmarks, he just knew where they were going, not how they were getting there. He trusted Wilbur.
The car was unusually silent. Wilbur cleared his throat, trying to prompt Tommy or possibly himself to say something.
(What did Tommy even want to hear right now?)
“So… how are you feeling?” Wilbur asked, sparing a glance to the boy beside him.
Wilbur always asked the right questions, even if they were hard to answer.
“Uh, y’know…” Tommy trailed off with a nervous chuckle.
Wilbur lightheartedly scoffed. “No, I don’t know.”
Tommy sighed, leaning forward to lay his face in his hands. “I don’t know. A lot, I guess. Everything feels like a lot.”
“Like too much?”
“Yeah. Like that.”
Wilbur hummed. Tommy bristled as a hand rested on his head. Affectionate touch had grown so alien to him that the simple affections Wilbur showed him made him shiver.
Touch was historically dangerous, never given with the intent of comfort or affection. But, when Wilbur carded his hands through Tommy’s hair, hugged him tight or rubbed a hand on his shoulder almost mindlessly, it was still hard to remember it was safe.
Tommy tried not to let it scare him, even if that meant the mantra of ‘it’s okay,’ was endlessly repeated. Sometimes Wilbur even had to tell him that.
Tommy sat up, breaking out of the contact. Wilbur’s hand slipped away.
“Do you think it’ll ever get better?” Wilbur asked, turning down a road Tommy didn’t recognize. It was too dark to make out anything anyway.
Tommy didn’t really feel like going to Wilbur’s house- he didn’t want to be encased within any four walls. He wanted to be somewhere open, somewhere he could breathe.
“I don’t know.” Tommy mumbled, answering Wilbur.
“Be honest.” Wilbur softly reminded.
Tommy sighed, “No, probably not. But what can you do? Everything just gets worse, and you just have to watch it spiral downwards.”
They had driven far past the city lines, going down a stretch of road lacking any visibility besides what was shown by Wilbur’s headlights. Sporadically breaking up the starry sky were dead trees. The winter chill had long killed off their leaves.
“I have to live through something I don’t like and have no control over.” Tommy gazed out the window, thinking too hard and feeling too much. “I just don’t have the words to say how I feel about that.”
The car turned down a bumpy road, the gravel loudly crunching.
“I think you said it well enough before,” Wilbur idly said, eyes watching the road. “It’s too much for one person to feel.”
“Yeah,” Tommy mumbled.
It was too much to feel. He thought one day he’d burst from it all. It was pain and agony and helplessness and loss… and above it all, loneliness. It was being alone at boisterous parties, surrounded by happiness and not feeling a single lick of it. It was sitting alone in his room, crying his eyes out with only his imagination for comfort.
The car screeched to a stop somewhere open, only a few sparse trees around, nothing significant that Tommy could identify.
Wilbur moved the gear shift as the car jerked into park. “I’ll always be here to help carry it all.” Wilbur put his hands back on the wheel, holding it loosely. “I know it’s hard, but I think considering circumstances, you’re doing the best you can.”
Tommy didn’t reply. Wilbur got out of the car, moving around to Tommy’s side. He opened the passenger door, leaning down with open arms.
Tommy’s nose scrunched up at the offer. “I’m not a baby, I can walk.” He said, only his partial reasoning to avoid the touch.
“I know.”
Wilbur’s arms didn’t drop, only giving Tommy a nod to encourage him.
Tommy sighed and rolled his eyes.
Tommy reached up, pulling himself up with his arms around Wilbur’s neck. The contact made the hairs on the back of Tommy’s neck prick up, but similarly it thawed the ice in his chest.
The side of Wilbur’s face was leaned against his, perfect forehead kissing distance for Wilbur- something Tommy was all too cautious of, hiding his face and turning away.
Wilbur knew he loved it.
With Tommy in his arms, Wilbur closed the door and walked away.
Tommy would deny it all the way, but he could have fallen asleep in Wilbur’s arms, swaying back and forth as the man walked. It was times like these when Tommy felt the most safe in the world. In his brother’s arms, doing nothing of significance at all. Just walking, but to Tommy, it was comfort. It was safety. It was Wilbur.
Since all good things must come to an end, Wilbur stopped, rubbing Tommy’s back and pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. Tommy grumbled, still face down on Wilbur’s shoulder.
Wilbur chuckled, “I thought you fell asleep on me there.”
Tommy shook his head, still hiding his face.
“Since you’re awake,” Wilbur whispered, “Why don’t you look up?”
At the strange request, Tommy complied to Wilbur’s delight.
Wilbur had led them up a grassy hill free of any thistles or trees. Everything was oddly light for being so late at night.
Then, Tommy’s chin tilted as far back as it could go. His mouth parted in awe as he tried to see all of the stars at once.
He didn’t think he could fit another star in the sky for fear it would overflow.
“Woah.” Tommy breathed.
Wilbur admired the stars above before softly smiling at the one in his arms. “Do you like them?”
Tommy beamed, not tearing his eyes away from the vast night sky. “Yes.”
Wilbur grinned at his enthusiasm, then struggled to sit on the grassy plot he’d walked to.
Once Wilbur had successfully brought them down without falling, he turned Tommy around so the boy’s back was to his chest. Then he curled around Tommy, encasing him in a warm hug despite the cold winter night.
Tommy was a tall kid. Freakishly tall, in fact, but if Tommy was tall, then he didn’t know how to describe Wilbur’s height. The man was conveniently just taller than Tommy, enough to hug Tommy like that, wrapping around him like he was only a kid. Wilbur had to lean down to hug Tommy- he had to lean down to do most things.
Tommy didn’t like to feel small. Being small and helpless were synonymous, but when he was with Wilbur, being small felt like being protected.
(And Tommy always wanted to be hugged by someone taller than him, someone who meant something to him.)
Tommy let Wilbur rest his chin on Tommy’s head, and out of Tommy’s peripheral, he could see Wilbur’s fringe hanging above him. Tommy smiled up at Wilbur despite the older not being able to see it.
“I love this,” Wilbur said, reflecting Tommy’s own thoughts. “I love you, sunshine.”
“Sap.” Tommy couldn’t have strangled the fondness out of his voice if he tried.
“Still.” Wilbur pushed Tommy’s hair out of the way, leaning down to give him a featherlight kiss on his forehead. “You’ll always be my favorite little brother.”
“I’m your only little brother.”
“And you’re my favorite.” Wilbur said like it changed anything.
Tommy didn’t question his logic.
He went back to looking up at the stars, getting lost as they looked right back at him.
“I think this is proof it gets better.” Wilbur murmured, his chin on Tommy’s head. “One day, at least.”
Tommy felt tears form in his eyes. He tried to ignore them.
“It’s not. It’s all just wishful thinking.” Tommy said, his voice flat.
Wilbur thread a hand through his hair. “Wishful thinking? Why not hopeful?”
Tears slid down his cheek, distracting him, pulling him away from Wilbur. “Because wishes aren’t real, and the only good things left aren’t real anymore.”
“I think they can be as real as you want them to be. As you need them to be.” Wilbur’s words were heavier than he knew.
Tommy’s face broke, his heart breaking and trying so desperately to repair itself. “I need them to be real, Wilby. I can’t do this without them.”
Wilbur didn’t reply at first, only offering the comfort of physically being there, of holding Tommy. That would be enough for now.
And what can someone say to that? To absolute finality, to giving up? To an overwhelming sense of impossibility?
Tommy squeezed his eyes shut, his thoughts wailing, his mouth whispering.
“I can’t do this without you.”
No, no, no- Tommy wouldn’t- couldn’t say that-
Wilbur’s hands stopped feeling like his and started feeling like Tommy’s.
Tommy gasped in a wet breath, tears spilling down his cheek, his neck.
Tommy’s hands started to shake from where they lay in his hair and around his waist.
“Why can’t I have this?”
There was no reply, as Tommy was alone in his room like he always had been.
His arms were wrapped around himself, face contorted in all the pain he didn’t have the words to express.
The warmth he’d created in his own chest had frozen over again, returned to a block of ice cold enough to burn.
A facade of warmth, of safety, of love and family. Was it so shameful to need that?
Tommy needed Wilbur to be here. He hugged himself tighter, how Wilbur used to, because then he didn’t move away before Tommy’s 2nd grade year.
If he closed his eyes tight enough, if he focused hard enough, he was with Wilbur. They were far from here, and they were safe and happy and Wilbur loved him.
He couldn’t do this without Wilbur.
He wanted him back.