Chapter Text
There wasn’t much Toby remembered from his childhood, but the overwhelming smell of alcohol was the majority of what he did.
That’s probably why he found comfort in how the cabin reeked of cigarettes and weed.
Tim kept his ashtrays everywhere. There was one on the coffee table. Two on the kitchen table. One on the kitchen counter. Another in what they deemed the “mud room.” Three out on the front porch. And who knows how many in his room. By each, there were at least a few loose and/or half smoked cigarettes and the occasional half full pack. Even though Brian tried to get Tim to smoke mainly outside of the house, all he managed to do was get him to open a window or two when he did, which was a win in his books.
Vape cartridges and pens were scattered around just as much as the cigarette mess. Brian at least had the decency to smoke or vape out a window, or preferably outside. The majority of the pods were straight cannabis with nothing fancy added, but there were a few flavored ones thrown in there. Blue raspberry was Brian’s favorite of them, followed closely by peach and spearmint. Toby tended to swipe the cherry ones when he could.
Needless to say, the cabin always smelled like a mix of smoke, dope, and chemically produced artificial sweetener. It was headache inducing for most, but for Toby it was his only tether to normalcy. There was no other “normal” in this life, so he found solace in what was the closest to that feeling.
Screaming, clawing at the forest floor, dirt under his nails and leaves in his hair, he craved that sickening, comforting, overpowering smell of Safe. He always did when his head got too loud.
As he sat in one of his many hiding spots in the woods, all he wanted was Safe. The thick branches above him barely shielded him from the rain pelting down, even though he was as close as he could be to the trunk of the tree without hugging it. The little alcove created by the branches sagging at the ends was one of his favorite spots, since it was usually decently waterproof. Apparently it wasn’t hurricane resistant, though.
He should be shivering. His jacket was soaked through, dampening the hoodie and shirt he wore beneath. Water kept dripping into his eyes, tracking dirt and dried blood with it. It was gross, to say the least.
Toby had no idea how long he was out there for. One second he was under the Static, the next he’s under his tree, soaked to the bone and scared. He rarely got scared anymore, but it seemed like this was yet another exception to that rule. Usually the Static didn’t freak him out, he was used to coming to consciousness at odd hours of the night on the doorstep. But his body didn’t take him there this time. It took him to one of his hiding spots. So, either the cabin was unsafe at the moment, or something happened when he was under the Static that made him freak.
He didn’t like either option.
The rain came down in sheets, tearing through the leaves like knives. There was no sound other than the pelting of water against everything the eye could see. What little light he had was dwindling by the second as the sun set for the night, and darkness overcame Toby’s vision. It was wet, loud, and dark; all things he hated.
Toby tucked his nose into the collar of his jacket, trying to find comfort. It no longer smelled like acrid smoke and sickly sweet flavorings, instead replaced by earthy, natural tones. Wet dirt, decomposing leaves, wet tree bark, grass. He pulled up the shirt he wore under his hoodie, bringing it to his nose. It smelled more strongly of sweat than anything, but he caught a small wind of Safe before it was washed away by the water dripping from the tip of his nose.
He was alone, in the dark, in the pouring rain, with nothing left to keep him sane.