Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Today was a good day. 

His mum was picking him up which meant Tommy didn’t have to wait for a million hours for his brothers to finish socializing and drive over to the middle school to pick him up. 

In fact, Tommy was quite looking forward to the drive home. He had good news, after all. 

Last night, he and his mum had spent almost an hour together working on Tommy’s spelling list. The class spelling bee was today and he wanted to be prepared. Tommy wasn’t exactly the best student, but he was fairly good at English. God, he wanted to be smart so bad. This was his chance to prove he was as smart as his brothers; that Tommy had worth.

Tommy had made it all the way to the final round in his class, and spelled the world malistic to take the lead. Tomorrow, he’d be up on stage in the big auditorium of the high school for the school spelling bee and he could even invite his family. To say he was ecstatic was putting it lightly. 

Tommy waved a goodbye to his best friend, Tubbo, who was walking past him down the hall, as he put his locker combination into the lock. Tubbo rode the bus, something Tommy was slightly jealous of. Tubbo insisted the bus was hot and smelled horrid, but something about taking a bus home just seemed so cool to Tommy. Like he was a real middle schooler or something. 

Tommy grabbed a loose pen from the mess that was his locker and scrawled the word “bus” on his left hand as a reminder to ask his parents if he could start taking the bus home. Honestly, waiting for his brothers to remember to pick him up was often quite annoying.

But he didn’t have to wait today. 

Today was a good day.

——————————————————-

The grass under Tommy’s legs was crushed thoroughly. He was distracted, absently picking at the strands that dared brush his legs. 

Tommy had waved off the concerned teachers as they stopped on their way to their car and felt obliged to ask “Hey kid, is your ride on their way?”

“Yeah of course! She’ll be here.”

With a slow nod, the teachers continued to their cars. And Tommy’s phone sat unattended next to him. He wasn’t upset, teachers didn’t have enough time to care about every single one of their students, after all.  

And it wasn’t like Tommy waiting was an unusual sight. 

The only thing unusual about the evening was the pit in Tommy’s stomach.

Like something, at his core, was very wrong.

In fact, it took about three hours for Tommy to give up on the idea of an oncoming car. Three hours he spent practicing his new, more difficult, list of spelling words. Most of the words, he didn’t even recognize, but he did his best to remember the oddities of the spellings.

When it became unforgivably clear that his mum was not coming to pick him up, he gathered his list, carefully slotted it back into his binder, loaded his binder into his backpack, and stood up. Tommy was always very careful with his stuff. Like his mum said, neat work equals a neat mind.

After Tommy stood, he spent one last minute craning his neck to see down the road to hopefully catch a glimpse of a white minivan. 

It didn’t make any sense. 

Would Wilbur and Techno forget him? Absolutely.

Would his mum? Never.

That awful feeling in his stomach kept digging in, like a weight of emptiness.

The walk to the gas station would have been considered lovely, otherwise. The dandelions had finally shed the yellow flowers to be replaced with airy white seed clusters. As Tommy walked he paused in his trek to snag the biggest dandelion he saw. He twisted the stem in his fingers for a moment, considering what he could wish for. In all honesty, he felt like he had it all: family, a home, friends. What could he possibly want?

So he continued walking, still spinning the dandelion in his fingers and trying to decide what to wish on. Tommy had never been particularly pensive, but he had many opportunities to think recently.

Growing up, Tommy had always felt cared for. In fact, he felt guilty daring to want. To imply to the universe what he had now wasn’t enough.

Tommy had been to his friend’s houses. He’d seen his friends apologize for things Tommy took for granted on the daily. Apologies for empty fridges, screaming parents, messy houses, bruises.

Like Tommy’s inconvenience was more of a crime than the actual state of his friends lives.

It wasn’t right. 

He knew what he wanted to wish for now.

And so, he paused, right before the grassy shoulder of the road turned into warm pavement. Tommy squished his eyelids closed and concentrated. You had to get the wording right of a wish, his mum always said. 

“I wish I could help people who need my help.” He whispered to the flower as he cradled the dandelion in his hands carefully. 

With a deep breath, Tommy blew as hard as he could. The wind helped, spreading the blanket of seeds over the grass.

All he was left with was a bare head of a flower in hand and a smile on his face as he stuffed the stem down into his hoodie pocket and continued on his way.

————————————-

When Tommy pushed open the glass door to the gas station, he was greeted simultaneously by the soft bell tinkling and by the somewhat disappointed look of his friend. 

“Tommy. Again? Really?” 

Tommy chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I know, I know. Can I use your phone?”

Tommy’s friend, a middle aged man named Henry, who Tommy was sure had worked at the gas station since he was born, sighed and motioned for Tommy to come behind the counter.

Tommy liked Henry. Henry was kind and awkward and thoroughly awesome. Henry would let Tommy sit behind the counter and the man would just watch as Tommy drew. Now, Tommy was not a particularly gifted artist by any means. Still, he enjoyed the process. 

Henry would take a moment to walk through the aisles and to pick something from the shelves while Tommy called home. The man would carry the bounty  back to the counter, and set it there for Tommy to draw.

The best days were when Henry would choose a sweet, because then he would often stick the sweets in Tommy’s backpack when Tommy was distracted so he’d have a treat for later.

Today was not unlike the usual in that manner. Tommy clicked on his Mums contact and put the phone to his ear as Henry started his hunt of the shelves for something to keep the kid distracted.

What was odd, however, was the lack of a response. 

Tommy called his mum, not once, not twice, but three times. He was sent straight to voicemail each time, which didn’t exactly breed a wonderful feeling in his stomach.

Tommy resigned to calling his father next, clicking the contact and holding his breath as the line rung. 

No response.

Well shit.

That only left one number to call, one that Tommy wasn’t particularly looking forward to calling at all. 

When Tommy started middle school, his dad sat him down and they memorized through three phone numbers Tommy should always know. His mums, his fathers, and his fathers work. Tommy very much preferred to never ever call his fathers work. His father was never very happy at work, and Tommy had to be careful to only disturb him when it was strictly necessary.

In fact, Tommy had only called his fathers work once before, on a particularly horrific day he did not wish to think too long on. Especially not now, with these bad feelings lingering and his calls going unanswered.

It took another few steadying moments for him to sum up the courage to press the call button.

….

….

….

“Hello, who is this?”

Tommy blinked, forgetting his reason for calling as soon as the unfriendly voice spoke.

“How did you get this number? Hello?” The voice continued, jarring Tommy out of his head.

“Oh. Um, hey. This is Tommy?” He said, still scrambling to get his thoughts on the same page.

“Well that’s thoroughly unhelpful. How did you get this number, this is a secure line,” the voice sounded annoyed, as if Tommy was personally inconveniencing them.

“Uh I’m calling for my father? Philza Craft”

“Ah.”

The voice was quiet for a beat as if the person on the other end was considering something.

“Father, you say?” The voice said after a moment.

“Yes. My father. Uh the code word was something like uhhh Razzleberry? If I’m honest I don’t completely remember it. But I promise I’m Tommy and I’m just trying to reach Philza Craft.”

The voice was quiet, and Tommy could hear the sound of people talking in the background.

“Is that my father? I think I hear him, can you just put him on please?” Tommy tried offering.

“Unfortunately that’s not possible.” The voice responded slowly.

“Why not?”

There was a sigh Tommy could hear through the receiver. 

“That’s classified.” A long pause. “What was your reason for calling, Thomas Craft?”

Tommy was not unused to his fathers work being secretive. He knew his father worked in some high level business where everything was a secret and Philza was often out of town on business. Therefore, he brushed off the rejection and continued.

“Can you tell my father I’m at the gas station by my school? Henry’s watching me but he’s gotta go home soon so if someone could pick me up…” he trailed off, hoping the message would be well received.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible either.”

“What?” Tommy said, a bit louder than he strictly needed too, out of shock. Henry stuck his head around the corner to check the situation before turning back to his careful decision on the muse of the day.

“I can’t convey the message, kid. I’d suggest you find another way home.”

“Wait, just tell him—,” Tommy was cut off by the silence that meant the other end hung up.

Well shit again.

With a sigh, Tommy sat Henry’s phone back down on the counter and fished out the charger from the tangle of cords to plug it in. As if he could magically just understand, Henry’s head popped up by the soda aisle. 

“No luck?”

Tommy frowned at the offending phone. “No luck,” he repeated.

There was a short silence Tommy occupied by staring at his shoes while Henry walked over, dropping the chosen snack onto the counter. Tommy’s gaze flicked up to discover it was a bag of gummy frogs. Normally, he’d be thrilled. Something about scraping up the courage to call his fathers work only to be immediately dismissed as unimportant stung more than normal. 

Still, Tommy dug his notebook from his backpack and snagged a pen from the selection Henry offered quietly. He stuck the cap between his teeth as he considered the gummy frog bag. 

It took almost two hours for Tommy to scrape up a somewhat acceptable drawing. At least, acceptable by his standards- his art teacher would be horrified. Henry and his little system worked well, Tommy was entertained and could sit behind the counter as Henry did his actual job. Tommy helped Henry lock all the doors for closing, and he pretended not to notice the extra bags of sweets Henry slid into his backpack while Tommy was drawing. 

By now, the sun had set, it was around 9 or so. Henry flipped off the light switch and Tommy followed after him like a duckling as he closed the store part of the gas station. Tommy had to wait as Henry cleaned out the passenger seat of his small sedan for Tommy to sit in. Tommy didn’t mind waiting, of course. In fact, Tommy felt so incredibly guilty for inconveniencing Henry to make him drive another hour in the dark to take some random whiny middle schooler home.

Only when the car was pulling through Tommy’s neighborhood did the kid realize he hadn’t spoken in hours. It was odd. He just didn’t have anything to say. There was nobody to compete for attention with, because simply no one even gave him a chance. He quite enjoyed Henry’s company in that aspect, Tommy never felt like he had to be loud to be heard. Part of Tommy wished his brothers could be more like Henry. 

Tommy waved a goodbye to the car as Henry pulled away from his driveway, leaving Tommy alone to the dark house.

Tommy had never liked his house. It was cold, often empty, and almost always much too quiet for his liking. However, tonight, the darkness had an almost sinister effect. Tommy once again dug in his bottomless pit of backpack for his house key. The key was wrapped in a design of a bunch of balloons from Up. The key had been gift from his mum on his first day of middle school. 

“So you can always find your way home.” 

Real great, mum, but he’d prefer a phone. 

Still, the key did its job as the lock turned with a satisfying click, opening the door to the dark house 

Tommy did stumble slightly on the carpet as he reached for the light switch. He knew he was being ridiculous, but he almost expected to see a shadowy monster looming over him because of the way his day was going so far. However, all the light revealed was an awfully clean and boring looking white interior. Wilbur’s piano was in the corner, bench neatly tucked under. The numerous portraits lined the entrance wall, tens of moments captured. Tommy remembered when he had counted how often each person had been featured on the wall as a way to quantify his parents' affection. The results were neither surprising nor comforting.

Tommy dropped his backpack beside the door and grabbed his folder holding his spelling list, placing it on the table on his way into the kitchen. 

The kitchen was spotless, obviously. Tommy snagged a pair of oranges from the refrigerator and settled down with his list to study. 

If there was as much as a chance his parents might come see him compete tomorrow, Tommy wanted to win, for once. To achieve. To compare to his brothers.

Late turned later and the moon rose higher in the sky as the clarity faded from Tommy’s tired eyes. Within thirty minutes, the boy was asleep in his chair, arms used as a pillow on the table.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke to warm hands gently picking him up. He could hear the soft breathing, slightly hitched in the way breath does with a smile. It was easy to relax, to melt into the contact, limbless and limp. Tommy didn’t bother to open his eyes, he knew he was being carried with love. Soft as a feather, gentle as the breeze, he was carried up the stairs, a hand supporting his head to keep it from bumping into the banister. There was a slight readjustment as his carrier adjusted their hold to open Tommy’s room door. Tommy kept his eyes tightly closed, feigning sleep in the hopes the moment could be stretched further.

Tommy was tenderly set in the pillowy cushion of his bed, a blanket drawn up over his body. He heard a soft adoring sigh, and felt a gentle kiss on his forehead before the sound of retreating steps echoed and the light was switched off with a click. 

Thomas? 

Thomas?

Wake up.

Tommy’s eyes flickered open to be met with a dark room. He was still in the same place at the kitchen table, the only difference being his arms now aching after supporting his head. It must have been a dream. That was… okay. Tommy didn’t mind, really. 

He glanced at the clock perched above the kitchen doorway. 2:00 AM. The house was still quiet, which was odd. He stood up, rubbing at his tired eyes with the back of his hand. His spelling list was still laid on the table, the bright orange folder hard to miss even in darkness. He snagged the folder, putting the list back in the folder pocket neatly – his father liked the house neat – and placing it back in its rightful home in his backpack by the front door. 

Tommy’s eyes glanced to the door. It was locked. Did he lock it? He didn’t think he did. Tommy had full trust in the universe. Evil would never dare to come here. Not to his family. It just didn't make sense. His father liked the door locked though – “You never know what might be out there.”

Tommy walked back into the depth of their house, this time making his way to his parents room. He nudged the door open slowly, praying it wouldn’t creak. 

There were shapes in the king size bed, blankets draped over lumps that Tommy took for his parents. Good. They were home safe at least. He shut the door equally as carefully, stifling a yawn and walking up the stairs, skipping the stair that creaked. 

He walked down the hallway all the way to his room, which was placed directly over the garage. He liked knowing when people came and left the house, so the placement was ideal. 

His bed was tucked into a corner facing the door. Wilbur had scoffed and told him that was a psychotic bed placement, but Tommy liked having an eye on the door. Not for any particular reason, of course. It’s not like Tommy had ever had to be scared in his home. He adored his family. 

He loved his bed, a pile of warm blankets and much too many pillows. Tommy loved a lot of things. 

Tommy yawned, pulling up the covers and slinking into his bed, falling asleep pretty much as soon as his head touched soft pillows.

————————————

The house was still quiet when Tommy woke up, the only sound was the soft whirring of his fan. Tommy smiled, today was his spelling bee. He was going to get a chance to show how smart he was today. 

Tommy wasted no time grabbing a t-shirt and jeans from his dresser, tripping slightly over his own feet as he pulled on a pair of socks. He was so excited. He had done his very best to study and today he was going to have the family all together just for him. 

He didn’t see anyone as he made his way down the stairs, jumping down the last two. That was normal, mornings were quiet around the house. He snagged a protein bar from the kitchen and Tommy grabbed his backpack from next to the door. 

Tommy paused in the doorframe, turning back to smile at the empty house. His house. With his family. And he was going to make them proud today. 

His eyes flickered towards the wall of pictures on the wall. Today maybe he'll get on the wall again. He could almost picture it, smiling holding a trophy with his family's arms around him. Tommy would like that. He’d like that a lot.

He would make his family proud. 

On the bus he chatted with Tubbo, running through his word list again and again. He nailed every one, walking to his first class of the day with a smile he just couldn’t keep down. 

He barely paid attention to his lessons, sneaking the word list into his textbook. He mouthed the words one at a time. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake. 

At lunch, he went through the line with his friend all the other middle schoolers called “Purpled” affectionately because frankly the boy always wore the same purple sweatshirt. Tommy wasted no time in pestering Purpled to quiz him over the lunch table when they sat down.

“Haven’t you practiced enough, Tommy?” Purpled asked with a slight frown as the word list was shoved at his face with an expectant look.

Tommy rolled his eyes “Almost. One more time.”

“Tommy. It’s just the school spelling bee. Relax.”

He didn’t get it. This was Tommy’s big chance to be important. They would go out to dinner afterwards and his brothers would smile at him and ruffle his hair and call him “gremlin child.”

“Cmon. Please.” Tommy did his best puppy eyes, he knew Purpled would help him eventually. 

Purpled huffed and grabbed the list “Spell Acolyte.”

———————————

Tommy hardly talked to his friends all day, if only to bother them to help him practice. He needed to stay focused. By the time he was waiting in the band room with all the other class winners for the school wide spelling bee, he was getting nervous. 

Was that rain bouncing off the roof, or was that just in his head? He clutched the list in his fist, unwilling to let it out of sight. Tubbo described anxiety as your heart beating faster and faster. This felt more like someone was sitting on his chest and he was stuck, trapped. He’d be okay. They’d come.

The actual spelling bee past in a blur for Tommy. He didn’t pay attention to the announcer’s introduction, too busy scanning the room for his family. It was weird, normally his family was easy to spot, Wilbur’s height and Techno’s bright pink hair didn’t exactly blend in. More than anything he wanted to meet eyes with his mum, see her smile and hold a thumbs up – a silent promise of support. 

Instead he was met with rows of strangers, watching the stage as students stuttered and stumbled over words, politely applauding as the children succeeded and failed alike.

Nobody was half as prepared as Tommy. He beamed at every correct word, sparing smiles even for his competitors as they dropped out of the running one by one. 

It wasn’t long before it was him and a girl with huge glasses standing alone on the stage. 

“Spell Thanatopsis.”

The girl blinked. “Uh definition please?”

“A contemplation or meditation on death.”

The girl swallowed. “T-H-A-N-T-O-P-I-S”

The lights seemed to laugh in her face as the buzzer was hit, the sound echoing in Tommy’s ears. He wondered for a moment if she had a family she was being cheered on by. Would they be upset if she lost? Was Tommy stealing this girl’s chance?

“That is incorrect. Thomas Craft, spell Thanatopsis for the win.”

Now it was Tommy’s turn to swallow.

“T-H-A-N-A-T-O-P-S-I-S” 

It was quiet for a moment and Tommy felt his heart in his lungs, much too large and too loud for him to breathe around.

“That is correct. Congratulations, Thomas, you are our winner for tonight.”

The crowd applauded politely as Tommy was handed his trophy. It felt slightly too heavy in his hand, more awkward than he had expected. It was a dull gold and it looked like it had been dropped - the corner was chipped - but it was his. He had won.

———————————

It had been incredibly embarrassing to have to ask Tubbo for a ride home. He hated Schlatt for the way he treated Tubbo, but Tommy was too shy to ask his teachers for a ride. Too shy to admit nobody came to watch his victory.

He had waited by the door, watching every single family as they walked out, arms around their children, smiles on their faces. They were happy just for the sheer fact that their children had made it. It confused Tommy. 

He watched every single person as they left, some people giving him a smile and a short “congratulations kiddo.” He even checked the bathrooms before he trudged out to the parking lot, the trophy now shoved deep into his backpack. He didn’t like the attention, it felt wrong on his skin now. Like he hadn’t really earned it. 

Tubbo gave him a sad smile as Tommy muttered something about needing a ride, catching Tubbo’s arm as he walked out. Tubbo ran the lights for the spelling bee, and Schlatt had come to pick him up. 

Even Schlatt had the decency to not question the kid as he slipped into the messy backseat next to Tubbo. The man drove him back to his house, pulling to a stop next to Tommy’s house. Tommy hadn’t really been paying attention, face pressed against the cool window, watching the raindrops roll down the glass as Schlatt drove. Tubbo kept his knee against Tommy’s the whole ride – a quiet support – the other boy knew when to leave Tommy alone. 

Schlatt grunted, announcing their arrival. When Tommy didn’t react, Tubbo bumped his shoulder.

“Tommy. Time to go.”

“Oh. Right.” Tommy said, pulling his backpack up into his lap. “Thank you for driving me.” He said automatically.

Schlatt didn’t really respond, too busy lighting another cigarette. 

———————————

Tommy dropped his backpack next to the door.

The trophy made a clink as it hit the floor in his bag. Tommy flinched at the sound, unzipping the backpack and pulling the trophy out, tucking it behind his back.

Tommy took a deep breath, letting the stress out of his shoulders before making his way into the kitchen with a slightly forced smile. 

He was greeted by people, thank god, Tommy was starting to believe his family had vanished. Phil and Wilbur sat at the table, Techno stood next to Phil, a supportive arm around his shoulder as the man’s eyes glazed over, looking into the wall. 

“Hey! Guess what happened at school today?” Tommy said with a hopeful smile, trophy clutched close behind his back.

He was met with silence, the only one turning to look being Techno.

“Tommy-” Techno started.

“Today was the spelling bee and I won out of the entire school.” Tommy blurted out before the others had a chance to make him feel guilty.

It didn’t matter, nobody was listening to him anyways.

Techno nodded with a strained smile. “Okay… But Tommy-”

Tommy launched on, not to be deterred. “I don’t mind you guys didn’t come because I was hanging out with my friends and so I didn’t even miss you guys. I know you’re busy and it’s okay but I was hoping maybe we could have dinner this week to celebrate? You know, all of us, the whole family?” 

“Tommy.” Techno said, choking on his words slightly.

Wilbur choked back a sob, burying his face into his hands.

Tommy finally glanced at the two seated. There were tears on Wilbur’s face. His father’s eyes were red. That was weird. His father was never upset, never. Philza Craft was composed and professional. 

“I- Is everything alright?” Tommy said carefully, glancing around. “Wait, where’s mom?”

Wilbur hitched with a sob again, Phil’s fist closing tighter around his glass. 

“Tommy- I-” Techno said, doing his very best to be the strong one. “Tommy, we thought you knew. Mom’s not here.”

“Oh. Is she sick?” Tommy asked after a pause. That would explain the concern. His mom got sick often, she was often in and out of the hospital. Wilbur had joked that Tommy wrecked her health when he was born. He’d spent more than a few holidays at her bedside. But she’d be okay. She was the best person he knew.

Phil didn’t even look at him. Neither did Wilbur. Were they mad at him? He hadn’t done anything, surely. 

Techno looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here as he spoke the words that crushed Tommy completely.

“Tommy. She’s dead.”

Chapter Text

Tommy sat with his arms crossed firmly in his chair across from his father’s desk. It was frankly embarrassing how long it had taken for Tommy to get an appointment with his own father. He should not have to call his father’s goddamn secretary to get a chance to talk.

But he was here now, and he wasn’t planning on wasting the opportunity. 

“Why don’t you guys come home anymore?” It was less of a question and more of a demand, but frankly, Tommy was pissed off. 

It had been almost a week since anyone other than him had slept in the house. Which was fucking ridiculous.

Philza pinched at his nose, sighing, “Thomas, you’re old enough now to drive. You can stay home alone for a few nights. It’s safer.”

Tommy scoffed, “Safer? I’m not stupid, there’s no reason you couldn’t come back at least sometimes. I get you’re busy, but really? Safer? That’s all the excuse you can drag up?”

“Thomas. You aren’t like the rest of us. You can’t defend yourself. You need to stay home.”

Tommy scowled, “I’m not special enough, you mean. Not like you, Techno, or Wilbur. I have no flashy powers and no fancy deal with the government. I’m just a stupid citizen.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know I’m not a hero. I know I can’t be like you. But you could at least stop by sometimes.”

Philza nodded, seeming almost apologetic. “You’re right, Thomas. We’ve been unfair. I swear to you that-”

Philza was interrupted by the rapid beeping of his phone. He held up a finger to Tommy and lifted it to his ear. “Hello? Yes. I understand. All of us? Very well.” He hung up the phone dropping it from his ear just to get engrossed in sending a message out.

“Dad?” Tommy prodded.

“Oh. Right. Uh, excuse me, there was another attack by the Syndicate.” Philza stood up unceremoniously, snagging his coat and leaving the office before Tommy could even get in another word.

Tommy was left alone again, this time in his fathers office. He couldn’t even get five interrupted minutes at his father’s work. 

Bitterness was rapidly expanding in Tommy’s heart, as much as he hated it. And something sharp like envy. How was every other person in the world more important to his father than his own son? 

Tommy glared at the office chair across from him. 

It was easier to blame his father’s job. It kept him busy, and he did important work, saving lives and all that. But still, the nasty creature in Tommy’s heart wanted his father’s life to surround him. Tommy wanted to be the sun, not another countless star in the night sky; surely bright but too far to know for sure. He was selfish and greedy. But he was still Philza’s son. A glance in his direction wouldn’t kill his father. 

In any case, Philza wasn’t going to change now. 

He hadn’t changed after that night.

Gotten more distant, more bitter, if anything.

In any case, he wasn’t going to change just because Tommy came running to whine.

Really, it was stupid to even try. 

Even after all his glaring, the desk chair didn’t as much as flinch. Tommy stewed for another second in his thoughts before the monitor his father had been looking at dinged.

In a feeble attempt of rebellion more than anything, Tommy glanced at the closed office door and quickly scurried into his father’s chair to read the message. It wasn’t hard to do, his father had the biggest possible text size so what should have been a small pop-up covered most of the screen.

To: [email protected]

From: EXTERNAL USER **(BE CAUTIOUS OF MALWARE FROM USERS OUTSIDE OF DEFINED ORGANIZATION DOMAIN)**

Date: Monday, July 28, 2025 5:30 PM 

Subject: Project Update

Dear Zephyr,

Project TRIGGER has been a success.

We're on track to meet the deadline.

Please deliver the next shipment as soon as convenience allows.

Best Wishes,

Lazarus Biomedical Head Staff

Tommy squinted at the words on the screen. Honestly, it sounded like another boring hero thing. His father shook a lot of hands, clearly the email wasn’t that important. 

However, his attention was quickly drawn by a faint light coming from one of the drawers of the desk. 

He tried the handle, but unhelpfully, it was locked. He was too far invested in this new rebellion to care much. Instead, he snagged two paperclips from the container and made them into a makeshift key. 

He wasn’t sure if this even worked, he had only seen lockpicking on TV, but sure enough after a while of trial and error, the lock clicked. 

Inside the desk were a couple boring looking papers Tommy glanced at then shoved in his backpack. His focus was mostly directed on the small rock that was emitting a soft black glow. 

Tommy had a few issues off the bat: a rock shouldn’t be glowing, black light wasn’t real, and this weird rock was tucked away in the corner of his fathers desk like it held secrets.

As Tommy lifted the rock into his hands, a shadow followed, claiming his hands in a mist of darkness. It was like the rock had a constant shadow following it. The rock was warm in his palm, something he hadn’t expected. 

It gave his hands a tingly feeling, like feathers tickling his skin as the darkness started to creep further up his arms, a glove of shadow just itching to sink in. It felt weird, but kind of good?

Tommy glanced at the door. 

Nobody would notice, right? 

He shoved the rock deep into his backpack with the other papers. His father was hardly in his office anyway. Plus, if he had stayed, Tommy never would have even looked around. 

It felt kind of good, taking something from his father. Especially something that felt important. 

Tommy couldn't tame the slight smile creeping on his lips even when he waved goodbye to the doorman downstairs.

He had something he wasn’t supposed to, and his father had no idea.

———————————

Guilt wasn’t a great feeling especially in contrast to the quick high of success. It wasn’t unfamiliar to Tommy, however. Stealing was something he had experience with. He’d never gotten caught so most of the time the guilt would melt into just another distant moment. Initially, he stole because he was sad. In the months after his mother passed, everyone in his life seemed to pull away. He didn’t understand how to keep his friends. There’s no reason they’d stay around someone so broken. He knew the room lost its warmth as he entered, whispers of “Oh that’s the kid who’s mom died. Pity.” 

Pity.

Pity was the only thing keeping his friends nearby. If not for their own guilt Tommy would be completely alone. He didn’t know how to live with that. Every interaction became transactional, one smile and Tommy’s debt to the person grew. He wasn’t going to try and explain this to his father, to his brothers - no, this was Tommy’s problem. They had enough to deal with. His friends were the only sense of consistency left in his life and he was in horribly in debt to everyone of them. The worst part was there was no measure to the debt. It lingered unmentioned but constant in every interaction

So he got to work paying his friends back for their attention. He wrote notes on things they mentioned, memorizing their habits so he could be a “considerate” friend. He slipped little trinkets that he knew would make his friends happy into his pocket at the store. A button here, a little figurine of a spaceship there, nothing too valuable. He was never too worried about getting caught, he never even considered it as a possibility. These trinkets weren’t for him, they were for his friends. It didn’t feel like stealing; not when he nothing else to give. It definitely didn’t feel like crime, the cruel and selfish acts his father and brothers lectured about.

Despite his dedication to finding good “presents”, often he couldn’t muster up the courage to give these trinkets to his friends. They sat, abandoned on his desk. Maybe it was more a selfish interest, these trinkets were payments on his debt to his friends and maybe, he told himself, if he never paid it back they’d stay around. 

Tommy smiled during birthday parties as his friends beamed at their presents. They were perfect, he had made sure of that. He poured his soul into cards, apologizing for his behavior and praying they’d stay near him a few months longer. 

He had become a charity case and hangouts started to feel like reluctant obligations from his friends. Tommy kept a copy of every letter he’d written and the cards in response. He spent hours comparing the exchanges, insisting to himself that he was putting too much weight into the relationship. He was dead weight and his heavy words must be dragging his friends down too. He was being selfish, so he started to pull away, becoming a secondary character in his own life. His life was shit because he deserved it right?

Tommy sighed, abandoning his backpack on the floor by his bedroom door, climbing into his bed and pulling his covers over himself. 

He should really take a shower, change at the very least. 

But it was a heavy kind of day.

He’d change his sheets tomorrow anyway. 

Tommy shifted, pulling his phone from his jeans pocket. 

“Might as well do something productive today,” he muttered to no one in particular

He sighed and opened his browser

Google

Advanced Search

—-------------------------------

Find pages with…

all these words: Project AND Rebirth

this exact word or phrase: Research OR study OR experiment

site or domain: Lazarus Biomedical

ADVANCED SEARCH 

Unfortunately the search yielded little results, the major information coming from the very first link. The homepage of Lazarus Biomedical had one mention of “Project Rebirth” and it was listed as a failed experiment that had been disfunded. 

So why was his father getting emails about a project that had been shut down for years?

Tommy frowned at his phone, switching tabs to write down what he’d figured out today in his notes app. 

New Note

9:13 PM, 1 October.

-Lazarus Biomedical

-Project Rebirth

-Weird Rock

-Syndicate activity

Suddenly, Tommy's head shot up like it was yanked upright by a string as there was a shifting in his peripheral vision. Was that….?

No.

It must have been a trick of the light.

For a second he swore he saw a shadow move.

Tommy sighed, letting out a yawn, he must be tired. It was only nine, but his chest had been heavy all day. Gravity had been stronger since his mum passed. 

He wanted to get another look at that rock but that stupid voice in his head was whispering a monster lurked in his room. He wasn’t a child, he wasn’t scared of monsters anymore. There were worse things in his reality, why would he need to imagine something terrifying. 

Still, when he crossed the room from his bed he walked slowly, like he was proving he wasn’t scared. He reached down into his backpack, unzipping the compartment and being horribly aware of the empty space behind himself where anything could be lurking, just out of view. The rock was now chilled, sitting in his palm like he’d just pulled it out of a mountain streambed. 

He almost didn’t want to turn around, to acknowledge the space behind him, to face the shadows he knew concealed nothing. He turned around slowly, greeted by his familiar room. The familiar image should help but the unease lingered. It always lingered nowadays. Comfort was a luxury he was horribly short on. 

He walked back, taking an awkward jump in place of the last step right next to his bed. Enough to convince himself he wasn't scared while also enough to tell himself he was safe from the shadows. 

Tommy didn’t relax till his back was against the headboard of his bed and he could see the entirety of his bedroom. He reached over to his nightstand and switched on his lamp. Just to see the rock better, of course.

Tommy sighed - he’s been sighing a lot recently- as he settled into considering the rock.

It was a good rock all things considered, a bit like obsidian but with a faint black glow; which, he reminded himself, should be impossible.

Unfortunately, the rock didn’t use this as an opportunity to whisper it’s secrets to Tommy’s waiting ears. 

“C'mon rock, do me a solid," Tommy whispered to the rock like it could hear him. 

It couldn't, obviously. But it was worth a shot. Maybe the rock didn’t like his pun, but in any case it was a wasted experiment.

The rock just sat unhelpfully in his palm.

Wow, he was so glad he risked his relationship with his father to steal a stupid rock.

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