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2021-06-29
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2021-12-30
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13/13
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hold onto the stars

Summary:

"We have to leave," Wilbur pulled at Tommy's hand. "We have to leave now." Tommy didn't budge.

"What's going to happen to us?" He whispered, staring at at the pale light on the pavement.

Wilbur couldn't answer. They couldn't go back to the group home, they would give them new placements, separate them, and then Wilbur would never see Tommy again. They couldn't go back home, Wilbur still heard the screaming from the open window.

"We'll figure something out, I promise."

Or: Wilbur and Tommy run away from another foster home. Techno and Phil are roommates who just so happen to catch them stealing from their trash.

Notes:

woooo hoooo here we go again

this idea came to me when i was severely sleep deprived and i wrote the first bit then, which is why it's kinda bland, but i havent had the energy to fix it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

i had to redo the tags so many times because they either deleted themselves or rearranged themselves and honestly i just left it as it was

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Chapter 1: even the sky weeps

Notes:

this chapter was made when i was running on a few hours of sleep, so take it with a grain of salt i guess :)

tw// child abuse, running away, injury

in other words, read the tags /lh

enjoy!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Wilbur, I’m scared.”

His brother was crying, silent tears trailing down his cheeks and he was shaking, clutching the sleeve of Wilbur’s sweater. His brother shouldn’t have been crying.

“I know Tommy, I’m sorry.”

Wilbur used his free hand to stuff Tommy’s toothbrush into his brother’s bag. Tommy pressed closer to him, still holding onto his sleeve.

“What’s going to happen to us?” Tommy whispered, and Wilbur was reminded that Tommy’s only twelve, still a child.

“We’re going to get you somewhere safe,” Wilbur explained. He helped Tommy put on his backpack. Tommy made a soft noise when he dropped Wilbur’s sleeve.

Tommy’s voice was shaky, forced nonchalantness seeping in, “What about you, big man?” 

Wilbur hated the way Tommy’s trying to cheer him up, like he was the one suffering.

“I’m coming with you, don’t worry.”

There was a slam downstairs. Tommy jumped. 

“Toms, look at me.” Wilbur took Tommy’s hand, and the younger’s breathing started to slow and even out. “We’re going to be okay, you know that right?”

“I know, you don’t need to be all sappy and shit,” Tommy huffed, but his grip on Wilbur’s hand tightened. It spoke volumes when Tommy only sniffled and didn't even try to wipe the tear trails away.

Wilbur couldn’t bring himself to force a grin, so he pulled Tommy in for a hug. Tommy was tall enough for Wilbur to rest his chin on his head, and Wilbur buried his nose in his brother’s hair. He tried not to cry.

The hug didn’t feel good, it burned and carved out something in his chest, but Wilbur knew Tommy needed touch, so he let his brother wrap his arms around him. Tommy was shaking. Wilbur probably was too. They should probably pack, Wilbur reminded himself. Instead, he stuttered out a breath.

Someone screamed his name downstairs. The two sprung away from each other. Wilbur’s heart felt heavier. Wilbur pointed to the window, and Tommy silently opened it, climbing onto the roof. Wilbur turned to the closet. 

They needed the money, it’s as simple as that. But the doors squealed each time they opened. Wilbur waited until Tommy vanished over the windowsill before edging the doors open.

Like expected, the doors let out an ear piercing screech.

Wilbur scurried to shove the broken floorboard aside and store the cash in his backpack, he could already hear the footsteps coming upstairs. There was less money than Wilbur remembered. Maybe he was imagining there was more.

His hands shook as he closed the zipper, throwing the bag on his shoulder. There was pounding on the door. Wilbur was suddenly grateful he shoved the chair under the door knob.

“Open the fucking door!” There was a roar from outside the door. Wilbur recoiled before regaining control of his body. “Open the goddamn bloody door, or I swear, when I get my hands on you, I’ll kill you!”

Wilbur didn’t wait to hear the rest. He was out the window before any more threats were thrown his way, and long before the door burst open.

He hurried off of the roof, glad to see Tommy wringing his hands, unharmed. 

When he saw him, Tommy sagged with relief. “Wilbur, my God, I thought-”

“Yeah, me too,” Wilbur admitted. He grabbed Tommy’s hand. “We have to leave. Now .”

They left the house behind, and Wilbur distantly remembered that he didn’t close the window, something he used to do before.

He shook the thought from his head. He had Tommy now. He needed to protect Tommy. Above all else, he needed to protect Tommy. He repeated it a million times in his head to ignore the way his ribs throbbed with each step.

Battered converse slapped against the pavement as Wilbur tugged Tommy to follow him. He hoped Tommy couldn't feel his hand shaking. The dried blood in his hair itched.

It was dark, and the artificial lights cast gloomy, sickly yellow shadows onto the ground. Tommy tripped beside him, and Wilbur simply pulled him forward, earning a cry from the boy.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Wilbur muttered, looking side to side. There had to be a bus stop somewhere. But it was dark, and Wilbur’s head was spinning. He couldn’t seem to keep track of where he had already looked before, he just kept pulling Tommy alongside him as he struggled to set his mind right.

“Wilbur, Wilbur.” Wilbur looked back. Tommy was gripping his backpack strap in a white-knuckled grip, blinking back tears. “Stop, just for a second, please.”

“We can’t!” Wilbur turned his head forward again. “They’ll find us, they’ll make us go back. Tommy, please- We just have to get on a bus.”

“Wilbur, my ankle hurts.”

Wilbur did stop at that. Tommy never admitted he was hurt. Ever. And if he did, it was with a grain of salt. He crossed his arms, pursed his lips, looked down, shuffled from side to side. It was never a blunt statement. Not if it was serious.

Wilbur paled. He stopped abruptly, and Tommy crashed into his back. “What? How bad?” Tommy did look away at that. “Tommy, how bad?”

“Oh my God,” The boy pouted. “I knew you’d freak out. Will, I was fucking joking! I was just tired, Jeez.”

“Tommy.”

“Fine! It hurts a little bit! You happy, bitch?” Tommy was standing on one leg, now that Wilbur looked at him. Tommy saw him staring and huffed. “Fuck you. It’s not bad.”

Wilbur sighed, dragging a hand over his face, “Why didn’t you tell me?” It sounded more like a plea than a reprimanding.

Tommy shrugged. “I don’t know.” His voice was quiet. “You’ve got it worse.”

“No, no,” Wilbur backpedaled immediately. “I’m good, I don’t feel a thing actually.” Tommy leveled him with a dubious look.

“You’re breathing funny.” 

“Breathing funny? What, what do you mean, breathing funny?” Wilbur scoffed, ignoring the burst of pain in his chest. Tommy only scowled. “Fine! Fine! Maybe I am, but I can’t feel anything! See?” He knocked on his chest and winced.

“I’m not an idiot, bitch.”

“Does it hurt a lot?” Tommy didn’t answer him, instead looking away and tightening his grip on the strap. “Tommy, please.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Wilbur squeezed Tommy’s hand. “We’re going to get on a bus, and then we can take a look at your ankle, that sound alright?” Tommy nodded, squeezing back.

Wilbur began walking down the street, and Tommy fell into step beside him, limping. Wilbur could hear Tommy’s barely concealed panicked breathing, and probably his own, their steps, the whir of the night, and the occasional car in the distance. Everything was too loud, it was making his ears ring.

He spotted a bus stop across the road and ran to it. Tommy trudged behind him and Wilbur had half a mind to apologize before seating his brother on the bench. Tommy opened his mouth to protest but Wilbur shushed him.

“Let me do this,” He pleaded. It’s my fault you got hurt, anyway.

Tommy must have seen his desperation, because he relaxed minutely, scooching back on the bench to lean against the wall behind it. Wilbur knelt at his foot and took out the first-aid kit from his bag.

Tommy was silent as Wilbur poked and prodded his ankle, gritting his teeth if Wilbur touched a sore spot. He was silent as he wrapped his arms around himself and clenched the sleeves of his tattered coat. He was silent as Wilbur took a seat next to him.

“The bus should be here soon,” Wilbur whispered. Tommy nodded, his whole frame shivering. Wilbur pulled his brother closer, who gladly leaned into the warmth. “The bus should be here soon,” Wilbur repeated quietly.

 


 

Wilbur had to shake Tommy awake when the bus pulled close. “Tommy, wake up. The bus is here.”

“‘M up,” Tommy rubbed his eyes, but before he could wake up properly, Wilbur tugged him to the open bus doors.

The bus driver eyed them both as they staggered on board. Tommy was nodding off into Wilbur’s arm, barely holding on to his brother’s coat. Wilbur shoved the prepared money into the bus into the farebox and pushed Tommy to sit in one of the seats.

“Hey, kid.” The bus driver held the money in one hand, using the other to count. “This isn’t enough for both of you.”

“Yes, yes, sorry.” Wilbur struggled to open his backpack. “Sorry, let me get it.” He thought he had the right amount?

“If you don’t have it, you’re going to have to leave,” The bus driver continued when Wilbur took too long. 

“I have it, I have it, give me a second.” It took a minute too long to get Wilbur’s fingers to cooperate and hand the cash to the driver, who thanked him distantly, already turning to the wheel.

Wilbur plopped into the seat next to Tommy, chest heaving. Tommy nudged him, and Wilbur lifted his arm to let the other rest against his side. 

“-Wilby?” Tommy said something else, but Wilbur couldn’t understand anything past the slurred speech.

“Sleep, Toms,” Wilbur ran a hand through his hair. “We’ll be okay.”

 


 

Right now, Phil did not feel like being patient.

“Techno, please. Bad won’t hurt you. I just need you to help me bring in a few packages, then you can go back home,” Phil tried.

Techno shook his head, closing the book on his lap. “That man knows too much to be considered normal.”

“What? Normal-” Phil spluttered. He stopped, took a deep breath and regained his composure. “Techno, please. I need you to help me bring these packages in.”

“Why? You can do it yourself.”

“It’ll be twice as long. Techno, please.” Techno opened his book again, settling into a more comfortable position on the couch. 

“Fine.” Phil was about to start thanking Techno but the man cut him off. “Only if Bad isn’t nearby.”

“What the fuck- You know what, okay.” Phil sat down next to Techno. “You confuse me sometimes.”

“That’s the plan, Philza.”

They settled into a comforting silence and Techno turned a page. Curiosity got the best of Phil.

“Really? You’re scared of BadBoyHalo?” Phil spoke up suddenly, choosing not to mention how his friend’s face paled slightly.

“Something about him, I can’t explain it to you,” Techno lamented. He pushed his glasses up and turned to his book.

Phil laughed. “Of course.” He took out his phone and scrolled through it mindlessly.

There was a crackle of thunder in the distance, a flash of lightning behind the curtains.

“That’s really close,” Phil noted. Techno nodded. It was in no time at all that the rain started to drum against the windows. Phil found himself turning off his phone and closing his eyes, listening to nature’s lullaby.

Techno hummed as he shifted in his seat, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. “Getting tired already?”

“Shut it, would you?” It was said with no malice, and Phil could hear Techno snicker. 

Phil would swear the man never slept. He took the evening shift at a local bar and woke up early to head to the library, doing God knows what.

Another flash of lighting, then thunder right after it. Phil opened his eyes to make eye contact with his roommate.

“You heard that, right?”

“Yeah.”

Phil swallowed. He’s only been this close to a thunderstorm once, when he was a child, maybe eight years old? He can distantly remember sitting at the window, eagerly awaiting the next strike. The neighbor’s tree got struck with lightning, the sparks flying off the branches. The old couple that lived there fussed over it, but it got some sort of disease and died shortly after.

It was a pretty tree, Phil remembered, with big leaves that fell in the autumn and branches that held surprisingly a lot of snow. He was young, completely enamored at the thought of a tree getting struck by lightning, a one in one hundred chance, as his mother pulled him away from the window.

He was older now to know it was dangerous.

Techno had torn his attention from his book too, sitting upright and peering out the window, or more accurately at the curtains. His fingers were tapping a restless rhythm on the book’s spine.

“We should put on a movie,” Phil suggested.

“I’m not watching another cheesy sit-com with you,” Techno rolled his eyes and Phil laughed.

“You secretly like them, you know you do.”

Techno didn’t say anything, just set his book aside along with his glasses. He pulled the throw blanket around his legs and tossed the other half of it to Phil, who took it gratefully.

It was a good ten minutes before the next strike hit. The curtain glowed for a second as the outside sky was lit aglow with lighting. A few seconds passed before the roll of thunder did. Phil exhaled.

They continued watching the movie, which was not a sit-com, mind you, in peace, listening to the rain pitter patter outside. The lightning hit again, but this time neither were concerned about how close it was, instead opting to focus on the movie.

There was a huge clang outside, and Phil would have dismissed it as racoons digging through the trash, if not for the panicked shriek that came after it. He and Techno exchanged a look.

“I’m getting the bat,” Techno said with zero hesitation, standing up.

“My God, it’s probably the neighbor’s kids.” Techno ignored him, tugging his shoes on. “Techno, can we not do this? I don’t want to hear the neighbor complaining to us because you ‘threatened to kill her kid’.

“It’s my fault that kid is a bitch,” Techno huffed. 

“That’s true.” Phil edged the door open, hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruders before they saw him coming. As soon as he did, the beating of the rain became louder, heavier. Phil would be surprised if any of his flowers would be found alive tomorrow.

Techno leaned over his head, “Why would someone try to break in right now of all times? Seems highly inefficient.” 

Phil couldn’t hear anymore of the whispers, or any sort of clattering, only the persistent rainfall. “Do you think they left?”

Phil stepped out into the rain, and two figures dashed into the night. Techno didn’t waste any time to push past him to pursue them. The metal bat gleamed in the porch light as it passed Phil.

“Techno, wait!” Phil really didn’t want another complaint from the neighbors.

When they caught up to the two, the taller figure was pushing the smaller one over the fence. The gate jiggled behind them.

Phil wasn’t surprised they didn’t open the gate, the lock on that thing had rusted to the point of no repair. You could only open it with a lot of force, but Phil never used it, so the lock remained in place.

The taller one pushed the other over the fence, looked back only to meet Techno’s eyes and even in the dim porch light, Phil could see them pale.

It was also then Phil realized he was a kid .

Techno must have also come to the same conclusion because he stopped. Phil used this chance to stand in front of his friend.

The kid gasped and scrambled away, hands shaking as they came up to press himself into the corner where fence met fence, and Phil was finally able to get a good look at him. 

Soaking wet, his brown bangs were plastered to his forehead, hanging over his eyes like a curtain. His jacket was old, there were multiple holes in the sleeves where the elbows should have been. The kid’s breathing was irregular, his chest heaving every other breath, his fists were clenched with such force that his whole body shook.

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Phil started, crouching slightly to appear smaller.

“Fuck you,” The kid spat.

“Let him go, you fucking massive pricks!” The voice carried over the fence and the kid’s eyes widened minutely.

“Tommy, run! I’ll catch up with you soon!” His voice shook as he reassured his friend, but when he turned to look up at Phil, his expression hardened and his voice evened out. “Fuck you.”

“You said that the first time, you have anything else you’d like to say?” Techno drawled. It was meant to be a joke, Phil knew, but the kid took it seriously.

“You should get on with it, you’re getting wet,” He remarked. There was a choked cry on the other side of the fence, which Phil assumed to be the other kid, Tommy.

“We’re not going to hurt you, I promise,” Phil tried again. The kid’s eyes flickered over to Techno’s bat, and the man dropped it. It hit the ground with a thud, water splashing around it. The kid flinched. “See? We’re not going to cause you any harm.”

“You’re lying.”

Phil shook his head softly, “I’m not. How about this, you and your friend can come in and wait out the storm?” The kid eyed him. “You could get sick if you stay out in the cold for too long.”

The kid paused at that, jaw clenched and eyes flickering up and down, surveying Techno and Phil. There was a cough on the other side of the fence.

“Okay.” His voice was soft. “But only if my brother can come too.”

“Of course he can come! Let’s get you both inside, it’s getting really cold outside, isn’t it?”

The kid glared at him, but nodded.

 


 

Wilbur hated it. He hated the thunder storm, he hated the house, he hated the people living in the house. The only reason he agreed to come inside in the first place was to prevent Tommy from getting sick, getting sick didn’t do them any favors last time.

He kept a tight grip of his brother’s hand, and Tommy returned with a grip of his own. Phil, as Wilbur had learned, was making himself busy in the kitchen and the other man, Techno, was helping him, but Wilbur couldn’t hear his footsteps move around as much as Phil’s.

They stood next to the couch, and Wilbur could see Tommy’s legs shake from exertion in the corner of his eye. They couldn’t sit on it, they couldn’t get the plush covers wet. Instead, Wilbur squeezed Tommy’s hand harder. They could get out of here soon.

The rain had drenched both of them to the bone, thankfully washing away the dried blood from Wilbur’s hair, but the water was freezing, it was a wonder neither of them were hacking up their lungs right now.

“I have tea,” Phil announced, and Wilbur unconsciously flinched and moved to stand slightly in front of Tommy. “It should warm you both right up.”

Wilbur kept his face even as Phil set the tray down on the coffee table. Not only was there tea, but there were berries lying neatly in separate bowls. 

Wilbur hadn’t eaten since yesterday- afternoon? No, it had to be longer than that, - and it took everything in him to stop himself from opening his mouth and drooling onto the floor. Tommy was about to take a step forward, but Wilbur squeezed his hand to stop him.

“You two can sit on the couch, you know.”

Wilbur blinked. “We’re alright, thank you.”

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” Techno noted. Wilbur hated these tests.

“I’m okay,” Wilbur repeated. Tommy tugged at his hand, and Wilbur bit his tongue. 

Techno raised his eyebrows. “You sure?” Did Wilbur have to spell out everything for them?

“We’ll get it wet.”

“Oh,” Phil waved his hand, “We wouldn’t mind. It will dry off soon anyway.” Tommy pulled at his hand again.

Wilbur looked at the couch, then at the two men, then finally at Tommy. “Okay.”

Tommy, not letting go of his brother’s hand, scrambled onto the couch, letting out a sigh of relief when he took pressure off of his foot. Wilbur sat next to him, sitting up straight, unlike Tommy, who had slouched completely in his seat.

“Can I get you anything else?” Phil asked as Techno took the armchair. “Something else to eat, or maybe something warm?”

Wilbur swallowed. God, he hated this house.

Tommy nudged him, eyes flickering to the bowls of berries. “Wil, can I?” He whispered. Wilbur leaned in closer.

“I don’t know if they put something in there.” Wilbur glanced up. The adults showed no sign of hearing their conversation, Phil smiled at him. “We have to be careful. Remember, they could be kidnappers.” Tommy nodded.

Wilbur sat up straight again, “This is more than enough, thank you sir.”

Phil laughed, “It’s not that much. And you don’t have to call me sir, just Phil is fine.” He began pouring tea into the cups, setting two close to Wilbur and Tommy, then handing one to Techno, who didn’t hesitate to take a sip .

Wilbur tilted his chin down slightly, then lifted it back up, and Tommy grabbed the teacup in front of him.

“So-” Phil cleared his throat, “-What are your names?” Wilbur clenched his jaw. “You don’t have to tell us, but-”

“You know ours, so it’s only fair,” Techno interrupted, prompting the other man to glare at him.

“Um… I- It’s Wilbur.” His mouth felt dry. “Wilbur and Tommy.” His throat closed up when he realized what he did. 

Why did he give their names? It could have been a trap, some sort of elaborate kidnapping plot. Why’d he have to be so stupid? Why, why, why, why-

Phil’s eyes crinkled at the edges, “It’s nice to meet you both. How would you like to stay the night?”

Wilbur’s head snapped up to stare at the man. He found himself speaking before he realized it. “What?”

“The storm’s not going to stop anytime soon,” The man explained. “You two can stay if you want.” Wilbur’s gaze flickered over to Techno, who was nodding behind his cup, face still set in the impassive mask. “I know you don’t trust us, but it’s better than spending a night out in the rain.”’

If they hadn’t gotten mugged, just before the storm started, then maybe Wilbur would’ve had more options.

Tommy turned to him, “Can we?” He quieted his voice so only Wilbur could hear, “I’m really fucking tired, big ‘dubs. Can we stay? Just for the night?”

There was a certain hope in Tommy’s voice that Wilbur couldn’t ignore. 

“We can stay,” He said. Phil beamed, and Wilbur wondered if he made the right choice. Curse this stupid house, with it’s stupid people. He only did it for his brother.

Adopted brother, he reminded himself bitterly.

Notes:

my apologies for the choppy way it ends

i was debating between longer or shorter chapters, before settling on shorter chapters, that way i can actually have a steady upload schedule :)

and i do mean the 'additional tags to be added' im really excited for what's to come!