Start of a new life (I promise everything will get better) - Ghostly_Neighbour (2024)

Chapter 1: Car ride

Chapter Text

Car tires screeched against hard asphalt, its rubber previously unknown to actual streets rather than agricultural roads. Manoeuvring his beaten up Renault R 21 onto a highway, he glanced at the person in his backseat, happily staring out the cracked car window. Blue eyes wide with wonder at the unfamiliar surroundings.

Dream gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, knuckles turning white, eyes fixated on the roundabout ahead. Tommy, his son, squirmed quietly in his kiddy seat, small hands clutched onto his favourite stuffed toy, a cow he had deemed Henry.

He took a deep breath, trying to push the gnawing anxiety aside. Taking the third exit, he navigated out the traffic circle, merging into the alongside running freeway. Stealing a glance through the rearview mirror, his heart swelled up.

“Are you excited to see our new home?” Dream asked, trying to inject some cheer into his voice.

Tommy snapped out of whatever trance the passing trees put him in, excitedly nodding at the question “ ‘Excited’ doesn’t even cover it! I can’t wait to see my new room!”

He snapped a big smile into his fathers direction, proudly showing off the tooth gap. Dream couldn’t help but smile back at Tommy’s infectious enthusiasm, even if he couldn’t see it.

Letting out a low chuckle, his voice tinged with care “Well, I’m just glad you’re happy”

“I’m always happy”

Chapter 2: Arrival

Chapter Text

Crickets chirped a familiar melody, street lights illuminated the grey concrete underneath, highlighting the cracks within. Groups of people passed their car, shoulders slouched and pants awfully low hanging. Bags and oversized clothes concealed guns, knives, bats and whatever other weapon you’d usually have to register.

Pulling into the underground garage, Dream hesitantly looked around, somewhat expecting someone to jump in front of the vehicle. Tommy had long since fallen asleep, a self sown blanked lazily draped around him.

The street leading into the city should have been enough for Dream to take the next turn into the opposite direction, surely he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. But no, as damaged as his Navi might be, this was the correct city.

Conjuring his last few bits of bravery, he parked the car into his now personal parking place. If it weren’t for the dried blood on the ground he would have felt relieved.

Air heavily scented with concrete and exhaust, stone walls damaged and the lack of cars made him hesitate stepping out of the car. Crime doesn’t sleep, but he for sure does, so as to not spend the first night in his car, and possibly poison himself and Tommy with Carbon Monoxide, he hopped out of the blue Renault, a hand me down from his mother.

Broken overhead lights flickered, creating a buzzing sound, Dream sent his regards to any residents here with epilepsy. Opening the backdoor, his son almost fell out, previously having leaned his head on the car door.

Carefully balancing the sleeping toddler on his hip, the automobile door closed itself harshly. He cursed at the noise, hoping it didn’t wake Tommy up. Prime knew he needed the sleep. Adjusting to a new place was hard, especially for children.

Dream cradled Tommy close to his chest, blanket now tightly wrapped around his son's silhouette. Henry was still tightly pressed against his son, short fur occasionally poking out from his fingers.

Taking one step after the other, careful as to not step into any water pools, Dream wondered if there was any water damage visible in the flats. He wouldn’t complain, obviously, what would he expect from a residence that only cost 475$ per month?

Pressing the dirty button to call the elevator was a lot harder than he assumed it to be. He pitied the movers who would help get the furniture here tomorrow. The elevator doors creaked open, metal struggling to fully extend, years of rust making it nearly impossible.

His hand hovered over the grimy elevator button, eventually landing on the 4th floor disc. The worn out button sank beneath his touch, eliciting a low, rasping sound from the ancient machinery. He worried the lift might break, plunging them into a fast death.

The elevator lurched into motion with a jolt that sent shivers down Dream’s spine. Ascending slowly to their destination, a heavy pit formed in his chest. Fear? Anxiety? Adrenalin, perhaps? He didn’t know what to call it. What he did know is that he disliked the feeling. Something in his subconsciousness told him that this inkling would become a very common thing from now on.

Without much warning, the lift came to a halt, metal groaning out of protest. Tiled floors, off white, hopefully with juice stained, walls and air tasting of mildew and neglect, Dream held Tommy a little tighter, the knot in his stomach becoming more evident with each second. This was their new home, for better or for worse.

He fumbled with the keys in his pocket, the self-made, smiley face keychain Tommy created in art class brushed against his fingers. Taking a halt before their apartment door, Dream took one last breath of regret for being such a cheapskate. The number 130 punched into the iron sign barely visible in the dim light. It was a bit funny. Having 13 in his apartment's name. He supposed it was the universe's last attempt to ward him away from here. But fate also cursed him into the role of a teen father, so who knew if Prime really had his best interest in mind when leading him anywhere.

*𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑*

Nevermind, whatever caused that noise was the last attempt.

Looking to his left, a figure just crashed through the window, eyes throwing themselves into every direction, eventually landing on Dream.

Dream assumed they were a guy, a few years older than him, at least 25. The lack of light was making it hard to identify many facial features. You know what else was making it hard to identify facial features? The boar skull mask placed neatly on their head!

He never really knew what exactly heroes and villains looked like, growing up and living in a small town was certainly a great way to stay ignorant to any issues involving the Hero Agency. But for the first time in his life, he wished that his younger self had gone through an unhealthy obsession with Heroes and Villains like every other boy around his age. Maybe then he would have even the slightest clue on how to react now.

The two stared at each other. Only the soft hum of electric lighting breaking the awkward silence between them.

“You-,” the man coughed, “You didn’t see anything” he lowered his voice a few octaves, either to appear more threatening, or to remain as anonymous as possible in a situation like this.

Dream blinked, once, twice, thrice before his mind, drunk on sleep deprivation, realised he should respond. “Yea, uhm. I mean. What is there to see? Infact, I’m partially blind in my left eye, so I couldn’t see anything, even if I tried?”

Technically, he was lying. He wasn’t blind. The black eye was just making it impossible to see further than two feet ahead. But hopefully, his stammering was enough to not get murdered on his first night here. Imagine Tommy waking up in a city he doesn’t know, suddenly orphaned, and all on his own.

“Great. Uh. Not your blindness- I mean. Yea. Good for me, bad for you” this man was socially awkward. And most definitely a villain. If it weren’t for the four foot long axe behind said villain, he would laugh.

Another awfully long staring contest followed, interrupted by Dream sticking his keys into the door. His arm was starting to get tired from holding Tommy.

Silently praying that the door would open smoothly, he turned the steel handle of the door, still keeping eye contact with the stranger. The door didn’t budge at Dreams pushing.

“You have to pull the door to yourself first, then push the handle. The doors are a little messed up” a short, shy, giggle followed in his normal voice, not the disguised cigarette aunt he played just a few seconds ago.

Following the instructions, the door opened, revealing the dimly lit corridor into their new home,

“Thank you!” He wasn’t sure if the stranger could see him, but he flashed a smile regardless, trying to muster the last few drops of optimism he had left.

“I mean, it’s not like I live here, it’s just that every door is like that here” he stuttered together, hands flailing around him protectively.

“Right” laughing slightly, he entered the apartment, hoping he won’t get murdered in his sleep tonight.

Closing the door behind himself, careful to lock it as quietly as possible, Tommy stirred against him. His eyes still tightly closed. Cautiously stepping over a loose floorboard, Dream made his way to a bedroom, the first one he saw. Tommy and he won’t be sharing one, but for tonight, Dream’s ever growing anxiety wouldn’t allow him to be more than an arm's reach away from his son.

He laid down on the bed, Tommy still in his arms. The mattress was hard against his back, pillows and blankets were still missing. Tomorrow, they would definitely have to deep clean the flat. He did not look forward to waking up early.

Chapter 3: Pitied by strangers

Chapter Text

*𝘽𝙚𝙚𝙥* *𝘽𝙚𝙚𝙥* *𝘽𝙚𝙚𝙥*

Stirring awake to the incessant beeping on his phone's alarm, he blinked away the last remnants of sleep, focusing at the dust and grime covered window. Tattered curtains ripped at the bottom filtered the first rays of sunshine, casting a soft glow over the almost empty room.

Tired muscles begrudgingly pushed him up, off the uncomfortable mattress. Carefully untangling himself from the blankets, he stood up, stretching his arms and back. Pressure from his back and facet joints released, causing a popping sound. He sounded like an old man. Prime knew he would have major back issues the day he turned 30.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he glared at Tommy, still comfortably wrapped in the blue dyed wool blanket. A self made project Tommy had requested. His favourite sheep, a ram deemed Friend by a poll in the village. It was time to get sheared, and the family that owned him owed Tommy a favour for catching their runaway puppies. Truly heartwarming.

As he made his way to the bathroom, a small, tiled space with, you guessed it, water damage, he nearly tripped on a box he forgot was there. Opening the small bathroom bag he had left on the sink, toothbrush and toothpaste were promptly taken out.

His reflection stared back at him through the broken mirror, spider web like cracks decorating the edge, dark circles under his eyes betrayed his restless night. Running a hand through his unkempt hair, he tried to tame the unruly strands as best as he could. The stubble on his chin hinted at days without a proper shave, perhaps he should try growing out his beard and not shave it off at the slightest growth of a hair follicle. Maybe then he would get guessed a little older than he actually was.

Turning on the tap, he let cold water wash over his hands, splashing some in his face to wake himself up further. Minty taste rushed around his mouth. He never enjoyed the taste of mint. Tommy seemed to like it though. He remembered having to lock the toothpaste away in a high cabinet so that he wouldn’t try eating it.

He glanced at his reflection once more, deeming the idea of tidying himself up useless, no amount of makeup would hide his bruised neck, handprints and nail engraving still too visible for his liking.

Spitting out the last remains of toothpaste, he cleaned the green brush, bristles almost flat from his violent brushing. He should buy a new one soon.

“Morning Dad!” Tommy chirped up, voice still groggy from sleep. His enthusiasm spilling over. How long has he been standing there?

"Good morning Champ,” He replied with a smile “Did you sleep well?”

Tommy nodded, wide grin spread across his face “Yea, I had the best dream ever! I was a superhero fighting a h̲u̲g̲e̲ kraken that came out of a portal. And I shot at him with my eye lasers and then everybody cheered my name! And guess what happened then!!!”

He often wondered what kind of symbolisms dreams had. Superheroes usually represent your desire for power and control, or indicate that you seek a saviour from a difficult situation. Or maybe he was just reading too much into it and Tommy was just fascinated with superheroes. Overthinking usually made him paranoid.

“I don’t know, what happened then?”

“The kraken exploded! Into- into confetti and candy! And then! I got a Trophy with #1 on it!” jumping happily from side to side, Tommy flattered his hand up and down. He’s always been a morning person, Dream wondered who he got it from.

Chuckling at his son's retelling, it was moments like this that reminded him of the innocence and wonder of childhood, something he wished to preserve as long as possible. He had promised himself from the day he got divorced he would give Tommy a better life, and he intended to keep that promise. Even if this run down place was making it increasingly more difficult than normal.

“That sounds amazing, Tommy! Maybe you’ll be a real superhero one day” troubling his hair affectionately, he replied.

Tommy’s eyes sparkled at the idea “Yea! Maybe I will! And then I’ll become a billionaire and buy you ten mansions, and six cars” he adorably held up four fingers. He should really start trying to teach him to count correctly.

With a smile, Dream ushered him into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead. Tommy enthusiastically brushed his teeth, foam bubbling from his mouth, as if he had rabies. Both of them were still in their clothes from yesterday, not like they could change into anything else.

“So, the plan for today,” he was mostly talking to himself, but Tommy should hear most of it too. “We’re going to the first open food place we see to eat breakfast, then we buy cleaning supplies and deep clean the apartment. Then, at around 1 pm. The movers come and bring our furniture and clothes and such. After that we eat and decorate!”

“Yay! I can't wait” raising both of his arms, Tommy excitedly jumped up and down. Dream will have to thoroughly apologise to their downstairs neighbours for the noise.

— — —

Happily skipping next to him, gripping his hand tightly, Tommy happily munched on the Egg-bagel from the bakery ‘Devils Delight’ right down the street. The baker had this pitiful expression directed at Dream the moment he entered the bakery. ‘Bad’ is what his name tag read, fitting for a demon hybrid. Horns poked out from his hair net. The pink haired barista in the coffee bar had slipped an extra biscuit to him with his green tea.

Next stop was the convenience store to get cleaning supplies. Washcloths, brooms and sponges were miraculously in the apartment already, still in good condition. Truly a blessing amongst the chaos. Maybe this place wasn't all that bad. Slap a few pictures on the wall and boom, suddenly you wouldn’t even know there was a crack there. Place the furniture correctly and the mouse hole disappears. Amazing, isn't it?

Entering a corner store too far away, they quickly gathered the cleaning supplies they needed, trying to ignore the stares from other customers. With disinfectant wipes, glass cleaner, dish soap, bleach and oven cleaner in hand, they reach the counter just in time before red, loud sirens ring through the streets. A collective groan was shared between the patrons, possibly a local thing. It reminded Dream a little of the movie Purge, windows and doors were locked, people took distance from the shelves and the wall to the outside in general.

Sirens continued to chime, other shops followed the same lockdown protocol. Exchanging a nervous glance with Tommy, who clung to his leg, blue eyes closed and face pressed into his pants.

“What’s happening, Dad?” his voice was barely above a whisper, hardly audible over the blaring sound.

Dream shook his head, trying to suppress his rising panic for Tommy’s sake “I’m not sure, Champ. Let’s just stay quiet and stick together, alright?”

Tommy nodded vigorously, fingers sinking into blue denim.

A cashier, a middle aged man with greying hair and a weary expression, only spared a slight glare at them, scanning the cleaning supplies as if nothing happened. “It’s a villain attack, prolly that prick Angel of Death and his space cadets,” he explained tersely. “Happens every now and then, best to stay indoors ‘til it’s over. You two new ‘round here?”

“Yea, moved here yesterday”

“Tough luck surviving it ‘ere newbies” “That’ll be 30,79 $ ”

He handed over the money, mind racing with worry. A villain attack? This close to the apartment block? Did they not have even the slightest regard for the residents here? Unbelievable.

Gathering up the cleaning supplies in a white plastic bag with the shop's logo, they joined the other shoppers, huddled around the back part of the store. Looking around the store, noting the locked doors and boarded up windows. It was clear they were going to be stuck here for a while. Sirens stopped screaming a while ago, nobody moved. Some looked bored, this was their everyday life, he supposed, but still!

Something inside him tugged his eyes back to a window, the one closest to the door. Something was awfully wrong about it.

As he finished that unnerving thought, a person flew through the glass plane, like he summoned them by thinking. Instinctively, he pulled Tommy a few feet behind, back into a safe distance and out of harm's way, trying to shield him from any stray shards flying about.

The intruder landed with a thud, dark armour protecting the chest clanked with linoleum flooring. Pink hair and red cape swishing in the wind, Dream had no idea where it was coming from. The boar skull mask and far too long axe strapped to their back unmistakably revealed the same man he had faced yesterday. Now looking more terrifying than ever.

He got up, a swift and trained motion, perfected after years of falling and landing on his back. Eyes scanned the crowd, pressed against the wall as if trying to disappear into the shadows, an almost impossible feat since the store was so brightly lit up.

“Mornin’?” the cigarette aunt voice was back, this time accompanied with a voice crack.

A woman barged into the shop, costume either representing a mermaid or some other deep sea animal. Pink hair tied neatly into a ponytail, a few shades softer than the man’s. She reminded him of the barista from today, same face form, same hair colour, different clothes though.

Throwing the intruder out by the collar, she promptly apologised for the wait. A hero, most definitely. Or a vigilante? He wasn’t sure what the difference was. The hero agency hated vigilantes, every broadcast made by them demonised every single one. But why? Sure, it was illegal, but they were saving people, most of the time even quicker than the heroes.

Jealousy? Dream knew after every saving mission people complained that the heroes show up later than the vigilantes, probably because they have to pick out which heroes go where and make a plan. Organising takes time.

Which would qualify the gal as a hero, since she apologised for the wait? Or she was making fun of the agency. He should really start doing more research on this city. Favourably, he could just stay ignorant about everything and ignore whatever problems were going on. Ignorence however makes you stupid, and stupid gets you killed.

Tommy finally let go of his leg, eyes filled with admiration as he watched their hero manhandle the intruder out. Smile forming on his face, Tommy glanced up “Dad, is she a superhero?” whispered question still too loud for only both of them to share.

A bystander laughed “That’s Siren, she’s a vigilante, and the best one there is too!” other customers agreed, nodding their heads and smiling.

So she was a vigilante. An admired and respected one at that too.

Siren and whoever that man was disappeared behind the corner, wrestling like they were children in kindergarten. Talking about kindergarten, he should really search one for Tommy. In two weeks work starts and he for sure would not leave Tommy alone, especially in a place like this.

“Wow, that’s so cool! Did you see the way she kicked that bad guy out?!”

“Yea, pretty amazing, isn’t it?”

Red sirens returned their blaring, people cheered, not just this store, but every other one on the street. A stop siren, perhaps? That was quick. Or maybe they had been fighting for a while and the sirens only turn on when they get close? Customers began to leave, carefully stepping over stray rubble that had chipped off buildings during combat.

“Let’s head back home, Champ. We’ve got a lot to do”

“Okay!”

— — —

Peeling paint and dust covered floors greeted them like an old friend. Musty smell of old carpet lingered in the air. Tommy flew into their home like an aeroplane, excitedly running around as if this was his first time here. Technically it was. He doubted his son had seen anything aside from the bathroom and bedroom up until now.

“I found my room!” thin walls dampened Tommy’s voice.

The first door you saw when entering the apartment, a door handle was missing. A small space, dust clouds scattered in the corners, motes hung in the air. Dream understood why Tommy would choose this room. Red wallpaper hung by the last occupants, window looking out to the skyline, it reminded him a little of Tommy’s past room. A particularly big closet repurposed into a children's bedroom.

Taking out the broom from the kitchen, Dream was determined to get this place up and ready before 1 pm. Which, looking at the clock, was only two hours away. f*ck, he was going to have to rush this, won’t he?

Sweeping away dust and debris that had accumulated over the time period nobody lived here, Dream wondered if he should introduce himself to their neighbours. Was it acceptable to do that in big cities? They did it in films, but those were rarely ever realistic.

Scrubbing countertops and appliances, removing whatever sticky liquid had stained it. Hopefully it was just eating leftovers that weren’t removed. The sink was clogged, a plunger and a few ounces of violence quickly fixed that issue.

Tommy had been helping out as well, basically polishing every slightly reflective surface in this flat, under the promise he would be careful with the damaged ones. Dream couldn’t express how proud he was, even if he tried.

Lastly, the mop was taken out, the end boss against the dust villains, or so Tommy had called it. Said villains didn’t stand a chance. Succumbing to the soap water and brutal laving. Cleaning didn’t take as long as he thought. He was used to the two storey house they used to live in, including the garden. Oh, how he already missed the garden. Tulips, Roses and Sunflowers were either already dead or on the verge of dying. How Heartbreaking.

*𝙆𝙉𝙊𝘾𝙆* *𝙆𝙉𝙊𝘾𝙆*

Were the movers already here? It was only half past twelve.

Another knock, this time a little more insecure. Tommy was still in the bathroom, childish determination forcing him into cleaning the shower, which was also connected to the bathtub. A two in one deal.

Wet hands wiped themselves dry on his jeans, metal rings he forgot to take off almost slipping down to the floor. The door opened with a squeal, hinges begging for any kind of lubrication.

A tall man, a good half a head taller than him, stood on the other side of the door. Fearing eyes, trembling lips, pretty pink hair, the villain? No, couldn’t be. He wasn’t wearing his costume. Or was he stupid enough to show himself in civilian form?

“Hallo, uhm. I’m Technoblade, or just Techno,” same voice, same shaky sound, this was for sure the villain he saw today, and yesterday. Was he here to finish the job? A bit idiotic to do it out of costume. “I saw that you just moved here and I wanted to introduce myself, good neighbour etiquette”

Oh, so this guy was his neighbour? Fun. Living right next to a villain. This apartment complex was getting better each and every hour.

“My father, who also lives right over there,” with his eyes he pointed to the right, or rather to the right on Dream’s side. Techno stared back into the ground, apparently too overwhelmed for eye contact “you can’t see where I'm pointing” he mumbled. “He, uh, baked biscuits and sent me to deliver them”

Tightly gripping the handles, a glass container revealed golden brown baked goods. Techno raised his head yet again, mustering Dream’s face, more specifically, the purple bruise that was slowly starting to heal.

“I’m sorry, I have to ask. What happened to your face?”

“Bad genetics,” he joked.

“I- what? No! No no no no. I didn’t.. Mean it like t̲h̲a̲t̲" his voice became a little higher, rising with panic. “I meant- You are good looking. It’s not that. Wait, no. I don’t… sorry. The black eye. I mean? Uhm” The fear in his eyes and stutter in his voice made him look and sound pathetic. Something you wouldn’t expect from such a terrifying guy.

He hesitated for a moment “Just, please, take the biscuits. A gift from nextdoor. Good neighbour etiquette and so on” sweating profusely and looking close to tears, he shakily extended his arms, pushing the glass candy plate into the others hands, his own trembling visibly.

“...Thank you?”

Another short silence.

“Ok, great talk, bye!” Techno practically closed the door for him, burying his face into his hands and walking away in shame.

Standing silently in the corridor, Dream stared at the door, more confused than shocked. Tommy emerged from behind, footsteps snapping him out of the short trance he put himself in. “What’s that?”

“A gift… from our neighbours?”

“Sweet!”

Chapter 4: Unpack your feelings

Chapter Text

Strong men in blue overalls and grey shirts carried furniture and bags up unimaginable amounts of stairs. Dream felt bad for choosing such a high lying flat. Michael McChill, one of the movers, tried to reassure him, saying it “wasn’t that big of a deal” and “they have had to carry heavier baggage even higher”. He didn’t buy it, but thanked him regardless.

Finally, after about two hours of hard labour, furniture and decorations stood safely in their new apartment. Cardboard boxes stood chaotically around them, waiting to be unpacked and arranged into some semblance of order. Glancing around, taking in the sight of all their belongings scattered everywhere it shouldn't be, Dream sighed. Overwhelmed didn’t even cover what he was feeling.

Tommy was playing some extreme version of ‘The Floor is Lava’, dangerously jumping from box to table to box again. Eventually climbing on a tall box and landing on a smaller box. Prime, those were a lot of boxes. Would all of it even fit? Remembering the absurd amount of hidden storage, that question was quickly discarded for its stupidity.

“Well Tommy, looks like we’ve got some work to do” looking around, he did not know where to start.

Taking another deep breath to steel himself, he rubbed his tired eyes. Boxes of various shapes and sizes loomed over him, contents waiting to be unravelled like treasure, even though Dream knew that that treasure would most likely just be kitchen appliances and toys.

“Okay Tommy, time to dial it down a notch,” he called out, trying to sound firm but gentle as he approached his son. “We’ve got to start unpacking and getting everything to its place”

Tommy, mid-leap from one box to the other, froze in mid air, eyes wide with excitement “But Dad, the lava is rising” he protested, pointing at the floor as if it were to be engulfed in flames. Dream standing in the middle of the lava did not seem to bother him.

Smiling at his son's antics, he repeated “I know, but we need to be careful with the boxes. We wouldn’t want their contents to burst into flames as well and make a mess”

Tommy shook his head vigorously, his expression serious as he landed safely on the ground “You’re right! We have to save the items!”

With his son's cooperation secured, he rolled up his sleeves and began cutting open the first box. Setting aside items that needed to be arranged or assembled later, chores seemed so much more fun when treating them like games. Tommy eagerly helped, small hands clutching whatever object his father handed him, setting it down where it most likely belonged, at least to a children's perspective.

Aside from occasionally pretending the items were alive and thanking Tommy for saving them, Dream did not stop until the very last box was open. Now, all that was left to do was screw everything that belonged together.. together. Not very hard, but definitely annoying.

*𝙆𝙉𝙊𝘾𝙆* *𝙆𝙉𝙊𝘾𝙆*

Who was it now? Another neighbour?

He stared at the door, momentarily distracted from the task at hand. Who could be knocking at this hour? Or, no, that’s stupid. It was around 5 pm. Maybe even 6. They haven’t hung up the clock yet and his phone layed buried under the pillows decorating their makeshift couch.

Opening the door, Dream was met with the sight of a middle aged man, black, crow-like wings draped behind him. A faded scar was on his neck, sky blue eyes stared into his soul.

“Hello there neighbour!”

Ah, so it was another neighbour. Thankfully this time one that didn’t look as threatening.

“Uh, hi” he responded cautiously, offering a polite smile. While not outwardly scary, this man did carry an odd sense of authority, like he knew he was important. “Can I help you with something?”

The man grinned, revealing a set of sharp, slightly crooked teeth. “Just wanted to welcome you into the neighbourhood. Not a lot of people willingly move here. I’m Phil, nice to meet you”

“Nice to meet you too, Phil. I’m Dream, and this-” Tommy poked his head out between Dream and the doorframe, “is Tommy”

“Hi! Nice to meet you sir!” he wasn’t usually this nice and friendly to strangers, maybe it had to do with the fact he had wings as well?

“Oh, hello” he waved, black painted nails swaying behind.
“Well, I’m sure you’ve already met my son, Techno, he brought you a little something. And since he so rudely left-” an annoyed look was sent down the hall “I wanted to invite you and your brother here over for dinner”

“Thank you, but I wouldn’t want to impose”

“Nonsense, I invited you”

Trying to talk his way out of this social interaction seemed impossible, especially with Phil being so weirdly insistent. Eating dinner with him and his family seemed inevitable, so that fight was given up quickly.

"Thank you, Phil. We really appreciate the invitation," Dream replied, trying to sound genuinely grateful despite his inner reservations. "We'd be happy to join you for dinner."

Blue eyes twinkled with satisfaction “Excellent! We’ll see you then. Apartment 131. Dinner’s at 7, sharp” his tone left no room for argument.

“Got it, we’ll be there”

Closing the door behind them, Dream let out a sigh, already dreading the social interaction. Awkward smalltalk that led nowhere, at some point he’s going to have to explain that Tommy was his son, not his brother. “Looks like we got plans for tonight Tommy,” he muttered, turning to his son with a smile. “What do you think, dinner with the neighbours?”

“Yea! Can’t wait”

— — —

Hand hesitantly hovered over hardwood, steel sign screaming 131 at him. Tommy had insisted on dressing up, now in long blue pants that had a spiderman patch sewn on after he had fallen off the swing and scraped the fabric.

He didn’t know why he was hesitating, it was just some guy and his adult, very terrifying, villain son. Did Phil know his son was a villain? Maybe he was also one. The name ‘Angel of Death’ certainly suited him.

Finally, conjuring the bravery he had built up on his way here, he knocked, once, twice, thrice. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Phil standing on the other side, welcoming smile still plastered on his face “Ah, welcome! Come on in” he greeted, stepping aside to allow Dream and Tommy to enter.

The interior was warmly lit, yellow lights casting a sunny glow. Various trinkets and oddities adorned the shelves, giving the place a peculiar charm Dream couldn’t quite place. He just hoped the skull on the shelf was fake.

“Sit down, we’ll be joining you in a second” he disappeared in a room with scratch marks on the door.

Sitting down on the cushioned chairs, Tommy, completely unfazed by his surroundings, played with the cutlery. Who even needed that many forks? Dream, on the other hand, could not shake off the unnerving feeling. Chalking it up to his paranoia, he tried concentrating on something that would distract him until the eating part of dinner started.

Just as he was contemplating making up an excuse to leave, someone barged into the apartment. Brown, fluffy hair covered half of their eyes. White band shirt and black pants ruffled from the movement, the guitar strapped to his back mimicking the motion.

“Hi,” Dream greeted uncertainly.

“Hey there! Sorry for the dramatic entrance” He entered the flat, closing the door and dropping the guitar to the floor “I’m Wilbur, Phil’s other son”

“Well, I’m Dream, and-” “I’M TOMMY!”

His enthusiasm on an all time high, Tommy basically sparkled and glistened.

The strange man laughed “Hello Tommy!”

The door with the scratches finally opened, Phil dragging Techno out with him, another figure following closely after. “Wilbur, great that you could make it today. You’ve already met our neighbour?”

“Sure have”

With that, Phil motioned for everybody to gather at the dinner table. A small child, around Tommy’s age, clung to Phil’s hand, not wanting to let go. “And this here is Tubbo, my other other son”

Tommy, ever the social butterfly, wasted no time in extending Tubbo a friendly greeting “Hi! I’m Tommy”

The small child, brown hair sticking out in every direction, managed a small smile in return, his grip on Phil’s hand loosening slightly “Hello! Nice to meet you”

Nodding approvingly at the interaction, he exclaimed “Now that we’re all here, let’s dig in” hands gestured at the array of food laid out on the table.

— — —

Convinced with the promise of superhero toys, Tommy and his new friend happily skipped into Tubbo’s room. Giggling and laughing only slightly damped down through the thin walls.

“So, Dream,” Phil started. Here we go, the awkward small talk begins. “What brings you here to town?”

“I was offered a job here in the city, so Tommy and I moved. We’re originally from a village, from the east”

Phil nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Ah, I see. Must be quite the change, moving from a village to the city. How are you finding it so far?"

Dream smiled, grateful for Phil's genuine interest. "It's definitely different, but we're adjusting. Tommy seems to be enjoying it, especially with all the new places to explore."

Phil chuckled, a twinkle in his eye. "Ah, yes, kids always find a way to make the most of new adventures, don't they?"

Dream nodded, a small laugh escaping him. "Absolutely. Tommy's been full of energy ever since we got here. It's like he's on a constant mission to discover everything this city has to offer. Moving from one place to the other, it's hard to keep up sometimes"

He smiled warmly. “That’s wonderful to hear. And how about you? Adjusting well to life here?”

Dream's smile faltered slightly as he considered Phil's question. "It's been... challenging, I won't lie. The pace of life here is so different from what we're used to. It’s also a lot more dangerous too."

Phil's expression softened, a hint of concern in his eyes. "Yes, the city can be overwhelming, especially for newcomers. And I understand your concern about safety." He glanced briefly at Techno, who had taken a seat at the table, staring at his mashed potatoes as if they personally offended him. “But rest assured, the media makes the city look worse than it actually is”

“That’s… good to know” something about his phrasing didn’t convince him.

Phil waited for a moment, words forming on his tongue but refusing to spill out “Now, I’ve been meaning to ask this question for some time, so I hope it won’t offend you” eventually he cracked, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back. That’s at least what the saying says. “Where are… your parents? As a father of three, I couldn’t imagine sending my two sons so far away”

And here was the question Dream had been dreading the entire time. One of the worst things about becoming a father young is the public backlash. The judging stares. The whispers. Phil seemed to pick up on his excruciating pause “Sorry, didn’t mean to bring up an uncomfortable topic…”

“It’s fine. I’m on great terms with my parents, really. Uhm, Tommy’s parents are, well”

Like a bandaid, he just had to rip it off and deal with the pain, nothing he hasn’t done before “I’m actually Tommy’s father, so…”

Satisfaction did in fact n̲o̲t̲ bring the cat back. You could argue it even worsened the cats mood by a whole f*cking lot.

“Oh. Uhm, sorry for assuming. You just… look a little young for a father”

Dream shifted uncomfortably, shoulders slumping under the weight of Phil’s stare “Yea, I get that a lot”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” he did mind it a lot, actually. “How old are you?”

Should he lie? At nineteen, he’s the oldest he’s ever been, but never in his life had he felt younger than today. Embarrassed, he stared at his lap, a black button shirt and blue pants was all that he was wearing. Trying to dress older didn’t work, round face and pretty privilege were really kicking his ass right now.

"I'm nineteen," Dream admitted reluctantly, his voice quiet as he avoided making eye contact with Phil.

Phil nodded slowly, expression between thoughtful and horrified. "Nineteen... That is quite young to be a father," he remarked, his tone neutral.

Shame wasn’t a good look on him. Phil’s reaction, whatever it might turn into from this point on, was expected. It was something he had grown accustomed to over the years, but having it so quickly brought up in conversation still stung, especially in front of strangers.

“I am aware,” his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness “But I wouldn’t change it for the world. I’m happy with how life turned out”

“That’s… good.

The awkwardness stayed for the rest of dinner. At least Tommy made a new friend.

Chapter 5: Let them go to see if they come back

Chapter Text

Dinner with the Minecraft family was around a week ago, since then Tubbo has been coming over everyday, playing and exploring. Not many children live in this apartment. Scratch that, not a lot of people live in this apartment. Like, at all. His downstairs neighbour didn’t exist, apartment devout of life, but filled with decorations. Family pictures, rotten food in the fridge, as if they had to leave immediately, no time to pack everything up. At Least he wouldn’t have to apologise for the noise.

Phil works as a lawyer, Techno goes to college and Wilbur is in a band, that’s what Tubbo told him, if it was the truth was a different question. He was alone most of the time, alone in the familial sense. Their neighbour, the person who lives right across from Dream, an old lady with terrible eyesight, usually babysits him. Now that Tommy and Dream were there, Tubbo spent most of his day with them.

Attached to the apartment complex was a playground, it didn’t look very safe, colourful varnish painted over obviously rusting metal. Both four year olds insisted on going there every day. Dream was glad Tommy had made a friend so quickly.

“When will Tommy attend kindergarten?” Tubbo asked, Tommy with puppy eyes right next to him.

“I don’t know, I haven’t looked at any in the area”

“He can come to my kindergarten! Miss Puffy is really nice and the playroom is massive!” almost hitting Tommy, he extended his arms to emphasise the dimensions. It was a good idea, he had to admit that. Tommy would immediately have someone he knows with him, and Dream could start work in a week with good conscience.

And that is how Dream came to stand in front of ‘Ducklings Daycare’, important papers, including the one’s stating Dream to be Tommy’s dad, in hand. Anxious didn’t cover what he was feeling. How do you even enrol someone into kindergarten? Sometimes he wished he still had contact with his mother, or had someone who could lead him through life, no questions asked. Ok, it’s ok, he’ll get through this. In a few months all of his worries will feel stupid anyways.

Glass doors and windows had bulletproof coating, he didn’t know if it made the place safer or more dangerous. How often did this place get shot up for bulletproof glass to be necessary? Whatever, maybe all official buildings had that precaution, dangerous city and all. Rather safe than sorry.

Government placed surveillance cameras littered one of the walls in off-white grey, branded with a ‘Las Nevadas’ logo, trademark resembling more of a casino look than any cctv camera company he could name. Dice with different symbols stamped on, a poker chip, an eye, a queen of hearts. He wondered what the meaning behind them was.

Doorbell rang lowly, like a threatening growl. Dream was starting to think everything in this city could somewhat be interpreted as threatening. Noise cracked in the speakers, doors, while bulletproof, not thick enough to hide the noise completely. Voicebox cut off the rest of the melody, manually turned off by someone he couldn’t see.

A sweet looking older lady opened the door, most likely in her early to late thirties. Hair split between brown and white, decorated by sheep ears and small, slightly curved horns. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume this was Tubbo’s mother, or some kind of aunt. Maybe she was, he wasn’t very caught up with the Minecraft family lore.

Assuming that two similar looking hybrids were related was probably rude and somewhat speciesist, Dream blamed his small town upbringing for that behaviour.

“Hello?” while confused, her voice reeked of warmth and welcome, if not a little bit of worry, eyes concentrating on the bruised mark on his neck. The green turtleneck did not seem to help at all.

“Hi, uhm. I’m here to apply Tommy for daycare”

“Oh! Right! I received your fathers email,” f*ck, he had really hoped the Three-day stubble would give him the benefit of the doubt. “Typically, the parent brings their child here though” her tone was between worry and confusion, maybe a bit of suspicion.

“Y-Yea, I was the one you were exchanging emails with. Here-” he pulled out the folder containing every single document he might need to prove his identity to her. ID, Tommy’s birth certificate, the paternity order, the court documents proving that Tommy’s mother was no longer in their life and so on. Hell, if she really didn’t believe him, he could pull out the DNA test and medical record too. Good to say, being excessively paranoid sometimes has its perks.

“Ah, I apologise… for the misunderstanding,” she carefully looked through the documents and his ID carefully, trying to find any inconsistencies, focusing a little too long on his birthdate, mentally calculating what she already expected. ”I had a different mental image of who I was expecting.” 𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧, is what she really wanted to say. He did appreciate her not bringing it up though.

“I understand, happens a lot.” 𝙄 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙄’𝙢 𝙩𝙤𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙗𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙞𝙩 𝙪𝙥 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, is what he wanted to say. Words unable to form properly on his tongue, body spasming at the thought of muttering anything along those lines. Last week's conversation still too fresh on his mind.

“Everything seems to be checking out. I’ll print you those application forums in a hot second. Would you like a tour of the establishment until then?”

“That would be great, yes”

“Wonderful!”

— — —

Heels clicked on linoleum flooring, colourful murals and childrens drawings in fancy picture frames adorned the walls. Either the government buildings in this city were drastically in better condition than all the others or this facility was just better at hiding the imperfections. Interior was brightly lit, no creepy dark hallways in sight. A lot better than he had assumed.

The director, Puffy, as she dramatically introduced herself, led him through different classrooms and play areas, each tailored to the age group it served. Tubbo wasn’t exaggerating when he said it was enormous. The fact that this place wasn’t even that expensive made him believe Puffy was using it as a money laundering business. Not that he was complaining, if the police showed up at his house and asked him, he wouldn’t squeal a bit.

“Our outdoor area provides the children with a chance to get fresh air and exercise. We insure it’s safe and supervised at all times”

Dream nodded, countless ‘daycare’ employees stood bodyguard-ish around the blue painted fence, arms crossed, in full covering clothing despite the warmth today. Almost 18°C, as the weather forecaster had promised. Her assistant translating into sign language alongside. He swore one of the men almost dropped a knife, pitifully disguised as a pencil.

As long as they were protecting the children from any outside forces, he could look past it. Who would he even tell? The police? He had a feeling if he mentioned any weapons they would laugh at him, suggesting he’d start carrying one around too.

Tommy looked around each playpen with wide eyes, full of wonder. He was happy, that’s all that mattered. If he wanted to attend some mafia led daycare, then so be it. Dream was but a servant to the mighty king, one he got to order to bed when it was nap time.

Application forms and a brochure detailing the daycare’s program and policies were pressed into his hands, kind words of assurement followed her rushed expression “If you have any more questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to ask. We’re here to help,” 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙠𝙞𝙙𝙨, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙥𝙖𝙧𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙤. “You can either mail us the application or give it to us in person. Email is alright as long as the picture is in good quality” 𝙒𝙚’𝙡𝙡 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙮𝙤𝙪, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙪𝙩.

Thanking her for the tour and information, feeling a lot more at ease after he had seen the nursery. Tommy was ecstatic. Jumping up and down, already telling him about his plans to become the most popular person there. Dream was only listening half-way. Words mindlessly flowing in one ear and out the other, no actual words staying in his brain for longer than two seconds.

The daycare wasn’t too far away from their apartment, which wasn’t a big surprise, he literally picked a place close to daycares to make sure Tommy wouldn’t get lost if he decided to wander off one day. Not that that was a big issue, at least not anymore. He shuddered at the memory of having to fish a two year old Tommy out of his old highschools fountain.

Tubbo had promised him to walk with Tommy everyday to daycare, apparently every kid in the apartment blocks surrounding them gathered everyday to walk to the daycare street. It was nice to know they wouldn’t be alone, it lowered the chances of them getting accidentally run over while crossing a street. He would have to pick Tommy up from daycare himself though, most kids left a lot sooner than he did.

Once back at the apartment entryway, Phil greeted them, mail and crossbow shaped package in hand. Walking up the stairs, he basically lionised the daycare, as if it were sent by Prime herself. The tension from their last conversation had thankfully long passed, now replaced with a normal, healthy, friendship between neighbours. Dream desperately hoped it would stay that way.

Pirate themed brochure was long forgotten on the kitchen countertop, used as a pad for the leaking oil jar he had purchased. Application sent via email in pitch perfect resolution. His father would be proud.

— — —

Happily skipping alongside Tubbo down the hallway, Tommy threw a quick wave back to his father, standing in the flat's doorway, still in pyjamas. Tommy was shocked when he found out he would be attending daycare without his father there, some tears were spilled the night before. Promises to make brownies were finally able to convince him to stop crying. Dream could already forecast the day he would leave for elementary school. Kicking and crying, holding onto the door frame as if he were about to be sold to One Direction.

Elevator door opened and closed, rusty metal begging for the sweet release of death. Tortured screams from hell flooding out to the hallway, the gateway to hell closing the further down the lift went.

What now?

He’s never been without Tommy for an entire day before. Sometimes his parents would take care of him during tests, but those usually only lasted a couple of hours. The house was clean, fridge stocked, paperwork safely hidden. He suddenly felt a lot worse about not accompanying Tommy to kindergarten. Fear high enough to rival a mother seeing her son go off to war.

Black coffee finished filling up the hand-painted, weed inspired cup. A gag gift from one of his friends, made in the Burnout Clinic he was forced to attend. The coffee machine was another small blessing he found, stored safely away in a cabinet. It had a few screws loose, which was a quickly fixed issue, but not a very necessary one. Dream felt like there was some metaphor for the mental state of the citizens here, however he also didn’t feel like using his brain long enough to form one consecutive thought, so the meaning and possible life lesson was lost.

Silence. The apartment felt empty and hollow. Too quiet. Too still. Noise, or lack thereof, was deafening. If he listened closely, the ringing in his ears returned. He has to do something before he goes insane. Was this how his parents felt when he left for the first time?

Kitten licking a few hot sips from the coffee, he tried to shake off the unsettling feeling. He could go out and explore the city. Or go on a walk in one of the parks. He used to love doing that before she fully came into his life. Horsing around with his two friends, climbing trees and smoking cigarettes Connor stole from his mom.

Ok, maybe he didn’t miss everything that he used to do.

Draining his cup like a shot of vodka, he stood up from his chair. Carefully planned outfit he put out yesterday was quickly thrown on, pyjamas disregarded under the pillow. A walk was just what he needed right now, stimuli to his clouded brain.

— — —

Cars honking, people chatting, distant rumble of traffic light beeping. Suddenly, silence. Peace and quiet. Trees acting as noise buffers. Leaves, stems and branches deflecting noise, scattering sound waves around.

Crisp and refreshing air mixed with damp, moisty odour. Ah yes, the ripe smell of nature. Wet wood revealed a past rainstorm he must have missed. Wind whistled through the trees, birds chirped, leaves crunched underneath his feet.

Call him crazy, but he’s always felt some kind of connection to the forest. Ever since he was a child, dreaming of a cottage in the depths of woodlands, only myths rumoured about his existence. The witch of the woods. Good to say, his parents forced him to see the school counsellor every other week.

Aunty was supportive of his future life. Encouraging him to talk about his plan, about learning to build and survive on his own. How to build a house out of logs. How to start a fire or what kinds of mushrooms were safe to eat or not. She was probably just making sure that if he ever really decided to run away his chance of survival were a little higher.

His desire of moving to a forest wasn’t forgotten, cottagecore life still showing up in a concerning number of dreams. His wish however did have to wait, at least until Tommy was old enough to willingly move out. Until then, city life will prosper.

Trees rustle unnaturally, sound coming from the left.

Primal instincts screamed at him to run off. Fight or flight instinct auto-clicking the flight option in his brain.

Legs didn’t move a single bit, eyes scanned his surroundings. In moments like this he wished he was born with superpowers. Or at least developed them. A neurologist once told him his brain had the perfect conditions to develop some kind of power. Years of waiting made him believe they might have switched his scan with someone else's.

Having the ability to protect yourself from other powered individuals was a great indicator you were going to be favoured in life. Companies loved to employ those with ‘helpful’ powers. The stronger you were, the higher you were on the social ladder. It didn’t matter how horrible of a person you were, the more useful you were to overall society, the better they treated you. Most episodes of ‘Rags to Riches’ were about a poor couple having a superpowered son, who later in life joined hero society and gave his parents the world.

Body moved on its own, statically moving to the left, closer to whatever caused the noise. Ignoring instincts was one of the best ways to get killed, they were literally there to warn you of any potential danger. At this point it was a surprise his name wasn’t one of the synonyms of ‘stupid’. The fact that natural selection hadn’t taken him off the living world was a miracle.

A swearing man hung from one of the tree tops, leg caught in one of the liana, perpetually rotting and growing back, flowers sprouting and wilting.

Yea, no. He wasn’t going near that thing.

“Hello?” he called out.

The masked man threw his head around, trying to face Dream, momentum hefty enough to make him spin around in the air for a couple more minutes. His outfit was clock inspired, hourglasses and colourful vials hanging from belts around his body.

Spiral design twisting around his hoodie, sleeves coloured differently from every angle. His mask reminded a little of typical masquerade masks, covering the area around the eyes but doing little to nothing to obscure any facial features.

Hair was a chocolatey brown, eyes droopy with lighter brown irises. Pupils held the same spiral design plastered around his body. He wondered what the evolutionary advantage to such shapes were. It was probably a lot harder to see out of them. The stranger was around his age, maybe a little older, face shape and body weren’t revealing much.

“Hello citizen!” the not so conveniently placed man yelled, trying to keep a facade that didn’t reveal any discomfort of fear.

Eye contact was held for another two seconds before he spun around again, plants toying with him like a cheap kazoo.

“Do you… need any help?” Did he want to help some guy who very obviously wasn’t a normal citizen? No, he didn’t. He was most likely a villain or something, maybe a vigilante, he didn’t require help. But stupidly self taught politeness forced the words out of his mouth before any logical approach reached his synapses.

“Do not worry, I have everything under control,” direct eye contact was restored, silence followed before a pathetic sigh of surrender escaped his lips. “Ok, yea. I might need some help”

Liana hung from a high standing tree. Rugged bark, deep growing roots, spirally arranged leaves and acorns littered all around, definitely an oak tree. Sturdy branches could support massive weights, he remembered his old treehouse, perched onto a tree probably older than the country itself. Some tree limbs hung lowly, perfect for climbing.

Which is exactly what he did.

Listen, if this guy turned out to be a villain and he called some authorities to pull him down, who knew which gang would come after him? The stranger's face was half exposed, mask ripped around the left side. There was no way you wouldn’t be able to not recognise him out of costume.

Oak trees were always the easiest to climb, lots of stable branches with enough roughness for him to grab onto without slipping.

Liana was easily cut by a sharp swiss knife he purchased after the kindergarten visit. Wood not holding up to his violent sawing.

Carefully, he lowered the guy until his hands reached the ground, after that he free fell, it reminded him of Tommy’s first and last attempt at doing a handstand. Pouting heavily with disdain in his eyes, Tommy had walked away, back into his closet-room. She had made fun of him for his immaturity, which didn't exactly make a lot of sense, he was literally three years old, what maturity did she expect?

Clock guy brushed off dirt and leaves from his costume, blushing madly, mostly out of embarrassment.

Seconds of unbreaking eye contact felt like hours of staring directly into a solar eclipse, completely frying his retinas. Last few specs of sand in hourglass bottles reached the ground before the stranger spoke up again “Thanks, for that, uhm I'm Ka- I MEAN- My name is Aeonia, but you probably knew that already-”

“I didn’t”

“... oh. Well, yikes. Talk about bad first impressions.”

A small wait, Aeonia recomposed himself “I am one of the vigilantes roaming the city, at least that's what I call myself. Most heroes call me a villain since I used to attack them, BUT I swear I changed! And for the better at that”

“Good to know I'm not in any immediate danger”

“Yea, uh. Thank you, again, for saving me. Like, usually citizens run the other way and call the cops, why didn't you?”

“I only recently moved here, that’s why”

“Ah, ok, that explains it” “But still, thanks.”

Uncomfortable silence followed until a phone alarm went off, his phone alarm, the phone alarm telling him to go pick Tommy up from daycare. f*ck, he was going to have to rush there, didn't he?

Annoying ringing and buzzing gave Aeonia some kind of ptsd flashback with how he froze up, staring goldfish eyed at the sound source, aka Dreams front trouser pocket.

His heart sinking, realising he would most definitely be late to pick Tommy up, he hastily fumbled with his phone, silencing the alarm and checking the time. “I’m really sorry, I have to go. I’m going to be late for daycare pickup-”

“Wait, do you need any help?”

“Unless you can get me there in-” he checked the time again, realising his brain didn’t properly pick up numbers the first time he looked “three minutes, I don’t think you can”

Hesitantly, Aeonia reached out his hand, urging Dream to grab it. Taking a second of consideration, he took the stranger's hand.

Time pulsed, his heart rate slowed. Birds flying freely up above stopped mid-air, frozen in place. Colours faded from vibrant hues to muted shades, drained by an all powerful force, leaving behind a landscape painted in greyscale.

Sounds dulled, air felt heavy, breathing became harder, he felt like his senses were shutting down one at a time.

“Sorry, I forgot how upsetting this might be” Aeonia giggled, unsure look in his eyes growing with each second of Dream’s drained and shocked expression.

“W-ha-t. I. What the f*ck?” stuttering out, his voice echoed in his mind.

“Welcome to the in-between! At least that’s what I like to call it. Time is stopped, and you’ll reach your brother slash son in no time!”

“Ok?” he stopped to think for a moment. Could you even call it a moment if no time passed? Were all of his reactions technically instant? “Was the pun intended?”

“Yes! Thank you for noticing” “Now-” Aeonia dragged him behind. “Where to?”

“Right. I need to get to ducklings daycare. Do you need the address?”

The stranger froze, shocked in step, mind stuttering, body screaming. “No… I think I know where that is” his tone incorporated a lying background.

They walked, Dream would have used some time frame to explain the length of their stroll, but he was still trying desperately to grasp the concept of a time stop. Did the whole world stop or just the area? Time was everywhere, encompassing the entire universe holding together planets and stars, did time stop there as well? Were they the only two beings currently not frozen in time? Was all of infinity stopped, cosmos suddenly not expanding anymore?

The very foundation of reality seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

Blue painted sign with rubber ducks dressed up as pirates screamed ‘Ducklings Daycare’, letters spelled in a mixture between Comic Sans and Uberhand Pro. Door was slightly opened, Tommy practically throwing himself out, Miss Puffy’s hand reached out. All motionless. The sight felt uncanny, stomach doing backflips out of unexplainable panic.

Aeonia let go of his hand, colour returned to the scenery. Kind stranger disappeared into thin air. Time returned back to normal. Sounds of the city returned, cars swooshed by, traffic lights clicked, footsteps thudded against hard concrete.

Has it all been real? Everything on the walk leading up to here felt like a fever dream, a hallucination created by his own mind, some kind of gone-wrong LSD trip.

Tommy's red sneakers hit the ground, badly drawn on white stars slightly discoloured. “Dad!” excitement at an all time high, his son smiled from one ear to the other, running into his direction.

Kneeling down to Tommy’s height, embracing the toddler that basically attacked him with how violent he dashed himself at Dream, he responded ”Hey champ! How was your first day at daycare?”

Tommy basically vibrated with energy as he launched a rapid fire of words to recount today's adventures. Prime, could he gossip like there was an olympic medal for it.

Miss Puffy watched with amusem*nt, eyes flickering with gaiety. “Tommy was a joy today,” she remarket with a chuckle “Truly one of the best behaving kids I’ve ever had”

Smiling and nodding, he got up, said his goodbyes, and headed back home with Tommy, hand in hand, still intently listening to the story which only included some exaggerations.

— — —

Pasta with tomato sauce, vegetables hidden within, were gobbled up as if Tommy hadn’t seen anything edible in three days.

Soon after Tommy begrudgingly headed to bed, nighttime story telling eventually getting him tired enough to close his eyes and succumb to the sweet relief of sleep, drifting through Dreamland on clouds made of cotton candy.

Gentle illumination given by an overhead lamp, consuming the kitchen in warm, golden light, he stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up with sudsy rubber gloves covering his hands. Red sauce easily washed off porcelain plates, leftover food discarded in the trash.

His phone blinked up, a notification. With the last few crockeries wiped clean and dry, he took off the hand coverings and investigated.

[𝘼𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙞𝙖]

𝙃𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚
𝘿𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙨𝙠 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙥 𝙖𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣
|(>∇<)/

Oh. Neat. Guess he’s got a vigilante friend now.

Chapter 6: Let me go to see if I come back (Tommy’s version)

Chapter Text

Jumping up and down, clothes bouncing at the movement, Tubbo’s hand in his, he is incredibly ecstatic. Dopamine flooded through his brain like water to a city after their dam broke. His first day at kindergarten. Wow.

Rusty metal elevator cirked and cranked louder and louder with each story they went down. Eventually reaching the bottom, Tubbo waved the building goodbye. “It’s good luck”, he clarified, grinning from one ear to the other, showing the tooth gap between his right central incisor and right cuspid.

Kids gathered at the inmost playpen, the sandy area connecting not just two, but three whole apartment blocks and a group home!

Children of all ages were mostly uniformly dressed, bright yellow hat with an ocean themed pin. Most still in shorts, even though it was already September, early September, sure, but still, Autumn was coming.

“What’s with the funny hats?” he asked, head turning to face Tubbo, who seemed to have some type of epiphany in response to his question.

Quickly, without a word spoken, he yanked his own hat up and pulled out another, equally yellow and bright, hat, that had previously been hidden underneath. Said hat was fleetly discarded on Tommy’s head. A pin matching the other kids was also extracted from one of Tubbo’s many pockets and pressed into his hands.

“Thanks!” his question was left unanswered

“Alright boys and girls! Please gather in groups of two and form a line!” a girl with a heavy welsh accent urged. Xeir eyes were brown, like two brown circles with big black dots in the centre. She wasn’t much older than him, around one, maybe two years ahead, but man, in Tommy’s eyes, she was the wisest person in a 6 metre radius.

A hand with black and yellow painted nails belonging to Tubbo dragged him to the very end of the line while he fixated the badge on his long sleeve spiderman shirt. Excitedly, people formed a line, a lot more organised than the average line to a rollercoaster. He wondered if there were any close to the city.

“Everyone, follow my lead!” almost like a cheer, she yelled out.

Children followed step in step, like soldiers bravely marching into enemy territory. Except that ‘enemy territory’ was just an unusually rowdy street.

Aimsey, the girl/guy/whateverIdon'tknow leading them, for some reason took out a brick from her backpack with Toad from super mario design. They waved it threateningly in front of the cars, which seemed to slow down at the sight. Hey, at least they didn't have to wait for a car to stop out of their own kindness.

Red brick was discarded back into their bag as soon as the last kid crossed the road. Black BMW driver sighing in relief as he could continue his way to work, windshield thankfully left undamaged this time.

Children between the ages of 3-6 split into smaller groups, wandering into their respected kindergartens, joyfully talking to their friends and fellow daycare attendees.

There was already a kid waiting at the entrance of ‘Ducklings Daycare’, that's the name of his kindergarten, Dad told him so. The kid was tall and lanky, wearing clothes that didn't fit them, pants almost slipping down if it weren’t for the string they used as a makeshift belt.

Weird, but maybe that's the look they were going for. Some people enjoyed being extraordinary, standing out from the bigger group. Tommy was like that too, but the thing making him different was his ‘extreme’ personality.

His father used to be like that as well, grandma told him so. Jumping up and down, never in one place for more than two seconds. Tommy was proud of that. His dad was the coolest man ever, after all! Second only to the animal guy on TV that wrestled an alligator.

“Hi Ranboo!” Tubbo greeted, voice and arm raised high, waving violently. He greeted everything this way, bees, plants, people, buildings. The enthusiasm was appreciated.

“Hi Tubbo,” their voice was quaint and shy, fading into the background. “Who is this?”

“I'm Tommy!” Trying to sound as approachable as possible he flashed a smile, trying to remember what his father taught him about social etiquette.

“Hello” almost above a whisper, they talked.

The daycare door opened, Miss Puffy holding the entrance open like a car door. Mentally, she counted if everyone was there, mouth moving, forming movements mimicking the numbers, no audible sound came out.

“Hello everyone! How are you all doing today?” Her tone was as innocent and firm as two days ago. She also looked very weird, like she was in costume. Tommy guessed she must be a pirate. Why else would she be wearing a dress shirt, a vest, and have a sword holster attached to her belt?

Children flooded into the building, storming through like water. Tubbo led him to a big, open room, one he didn’t get to see at the tour yesterday. Kids sat themselves down in a circle formation, Miss Puffy kneeling before a green blackboard. A pirate ship was drawn on with brown and red chalk.

“It is wonderful to see everybody today,” she clapped her hands together, gaining the attention of almost everyone. Her tone of voice was sickly sweet, the type to give you metaphorical diabetes. “Let’s start today off by taking attendance. We’ve got a new arrival here today as well, so make sure you are all on your best behaviour”

“Molly?”

“Here!” a girl raised her arm. She was beautiful, Tommy noted. Brown hair, long eyelashes, just gorgeous. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its sides carefully compressed by a machine that compresses things.

He should ask her to be his girlfriend. Like a girl, that is also his friend. He found that longing weird, girls had cooties after all. But she was way too cool looking for that.

“Tubbo?”

“Jup!” he waved towards their teacher. Teacher? Was that the correct word? Guardian for a few hours? Temporary caretaker? Screw it, Tubbo waved to the daycare pirate lady.

“Ranboo?”

“Here” they stuttered, words choked up behind gritted teeth.

“Our new attendee, Tommy?”

“Present!” mimicking Tubbo’s enthusiasm, he received a warm smile from Miss Puffy in return.

Attendance continued as normal, it was just like the ones in Dad’s old school. It was good to know that some things never change despite increasing age. He sometimes missed school, especially Dad’s friends. They were so cool! He wondered where they were now.

Tommy sat cross-legged on the patterned carpet, listening as Puffy finished calling out the last few names. There was another boy he noticed that stared at him curiously, as if he were examining some kind of alien specimen. Attendance revealed his name to be Purpled, oddly fitting. He had antennas that perked up as his name was called.

Purpled gave Tommy a nod, which Tommy returned with a small, nervous wave. Tubbo whispered sneakily, as if he were telling him a secret “That’s Purpled, he always wins at hide and seek”

Tommy internalised that very important message.

As Miss Puffy wrapped up the presence check, she stood up with a flourish and declared, “Today, I have a very special activity planned for all of you. We’re going to do a treasure hunt!”

“Yayy!” the class cheered in unison. Treasure hunts were fun. Grandma and Grandpa used to do them with him a lot. They lived on a huge farm they inherited from their parents. M̶o̶m̶ The other person that was supposed to be his parent was going to get the farm next. She never did seem happy about that arrangement though.

“You will be splitting into two groups, the one that wins gets to choose the next game. Me and Karl will be joining you to read aloud the written clues”

Fellow classmates split apart, Tubbo dragged him, alongside Ranboo and Aimsey, who also turned out to attend their daycare. Tommy did not hear their name being called at the attendance, but that was probably because he stopped paying attention as soon as his name was called. The wall looked so much more interesting.

Karl, who was that anyway? Tommy looked around. There was another adult standing besides Miss Puffy, who looked equally pirate-themed with a striped T-shirt and a toy chicken horribly disguised as a parrot on his shoulder. He swore he heard the older man call the plushy something along the lines of ‘Nuggie’.

"Alright, treasure hunters!" Miss Puffy called out, waving a rolled-up map in the air. "Your first clue will lead you to the next one, and so on until you find the treasure. Use your wits and work together! Remember, the goal is not to win, but to spend time with your friends."

Karl handed their group a small, aged-looking parchment. Tubbo grabbed it eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement. "What does it say? What does it say?" Tommy asked, voice and body bouncing.

Their group reader, who was Karl, dramatically cleared his throat before reading aloud “To find the first clue, search where you rest. Under the place, the treasure is best”

Tommy piqued up after a moment of consideration “So, where nap time is?”

“The break room!” a girl he didn’t recognise remarked.

The group dashed across the halls, Tommy only following behind. As much as he enjoyed the tour two days ago, he did not remember a single thing about the layout. This place was e͟n͟o͟r͟m͟o͟u͟s͟.

Another boy whose name he didn’t remember arrived first at the break room, a small space where napping mats were stored. He dove underneath like an olympic swimmer, rummaging around for a few seconds before letting out a triumphant “Aha!”. He emerged with a small, crumpled up note, surprisingly less wrinkled than the first one.

“Read it, please!” Kids swarmed around Karl like sinners around a prophet, either holding distance but looking at him expectantly, or clinging on his clothes.

“Your next clue is where creativity is what you use. Look for the spot where colours diffuse.”

“The art corner?” Ranboo either stated or asked, his tone of voice changed whether you were looking at him or not. Zigzagging around the corners, they found yet another room, colourful splatters painted on the white wood.

— — —

The game disappointingly ended with a tie. Children discussed intensely how to proclaim a winning group. Obviously, Rock, Paper, Scissors was the first proposal. In the anarchy-ruled playground, that's how most tassels were resolved, but that was also boring. It was a game of luck, not skill. They needed something that proved one was better than the other.

Naturally, a class fight was the next best thing. But Puffy obviously would not allow that. So what was the next best thing? Idk, carnival games?

And so it was decided, a big tub was filled with water and decently large rocks. The person who managed to fish out the most rocks in one minute and put them down was declared the winner of rock fishing and their group won. They had to compete outside, but that was ok, the weather was nice anyways.

Originally, Ranboo was supposed to represent their group, but they had something called ‘Aguagunic utrica’ or something, he couldn’t decipher the correct name of whatever condition they had. Tommy, obviously, volunteered in Ranboo’s spot. He liked water, specifically swimming, especially in lakes during summer, where the water was sort of warm but still cold enough to cool you down from the blazing heat.

Rolling up his sleeves, he was competing against Purpled. Ignoring the weird gasp Miss Puffy made, he remembered the knowledge Tubbo bestowed on him “That’s Purpled, he always wins at hide and seek”. That information didn’t exactly help him in any way. It wasn’t even relevant to what they were doing, but it seemed important.

Both he and his opponent sat poised at the edge of the tub, hands floating above the water surface, already in some grabby position, like the claw at those machines where you have to manoeuvre a metal arm to get a plushy. Claw machines or whatever they were called.

He could already see an easy to grab stone. It just laid there, like an inanimate object. Karl blew a whistle, starting the one minute they had. After that, he mysteriously disappeared, a notification on his phone dragging him somewhere behind a wall.

With a deep breath, his hands were plunged into the tub of water, Purpled managed a head start of exactly 0.14 nanoseconds, fast reflexes were apparently also in his expertise.

His competitive spirit kicked in, another thing he inherited from his father. He shouldn’t waste time on searching for rocks, just put your hands into the water and pull out the first thing you get a hold on. With determination fueling his every move, Tommy's fingers closed around the first rock he spotted and lifted it out of the water. Wasting no time, he immediately dove back in for more. Each rock he grabbed added to his growing pile, movements becoming more fluid with time.

Besides him, Purples was a blur of motion, moving at impressive speed that slightly, if not massively intimidated Tommy. Regardless, he continued, it was fine if he didn’t win, he wasn’t a sore loser after all, but he did want to prove himself as a challenge to his current rival.

The last few seconds rolled by, grabbing a rather large final rock, struggling only slightly to lift it out and finally putting it down, the annoyingly loud iPhone alarm blasted. Purpled still had a rock in hand, not put down, which meant it didn’t count, a small tid bit of hope for victory arose in Tommy.

Children and adults gathered around the two piles of rocks, waiting in anticipation for Puffy to finish counting. Purpled’s pile was impressive, he had to give him that. But most of his rocks were on the bigger side. Thankfully, size didn’t matter here.

At last, she finally revealed the results. “So, Purpled managed to fish out-” she made drumroll noises with her mouth, tapping her fingers against the air, “25 stones!” The other group erupted in cheers, high fiving each other, including Purpled.

“And Tommy managed to get … 26 stones out of the water!” Now it was his group applauding. Purpled looked dumbfounded, shocked, and even slightly embarrassed. Although, behind that barely hidden jealousy, there was also respect.

So far, his quest on becoming popular was reaching a point where he could already see the end result, surrounded by people, everyone loves him (platonically), M̶u̶m̶ ̶t̶u̶r̶n̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶t̶o̶ ̶a̶ ̶g̶o̶o̶d̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶s̶o̶n̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶y̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶e̶.

Children finally settled down from the celebrated victory, sitting themselves down in a circle formation, that honestly looked more like an egg than a circle. Before Tommy could join his friends, Puffy pulled him aside, halfway across the outside area.

“Tommy,” she started, a concerned look that had followed her since the weird gasp she made on her face. “I have a question for you, can you promise me to answer truthfully?”

“Ok. Why?”

“I just have a very important questions”

“What is it?”

Her eyes jumped from one place to the other, most of the time landing on his arm. He had a temporary tattoo drawn onto his arm, maybe that’s why she was worried. It was the chicken from moana. He knew it looked realistic, but that she thought it was real was crazy. He applied it himself.

“So, when you.. Uhm, rolled up your sleeve at the competition, I saw that you had a bit of a bruise on your arm”

Oh, that’s what she was talking about. He stared down onto the mark she mentioned. It was mostly healed, now an ugly shade of yellowish-brown.

“That one?” he pointed at the discoloration on his skin, not exactly understanding what she was so distressed about.

“Yes. How did that happen?”

For a second he had to think. What exactly happened was a blur, he mostly just remembers shouting.

It was a family reunion or something, he was playing football with his cousin, Dad and Grandpa were at the grill, talking about a ‘dieveource’, whatever that was. Then a car pulled up, the type of car kidnappers are usually portrayed with. M̶u̶m̶ D̶a̶d̶’̶s̶ ̶w̶i̶f̶e̶ His other parent stepped out and started arguing with Dad, ‘vieseetashion rights’ is the only thing he could make out.

Then they fought, hand to hand combat, but also only one-sided, because you aren't allowed to punch women or some other stupid excuse. M̶u̶m̶ She also went up to him too and tried to get him into her kidnapper-looking car, which ended up with him getting the bruise Puffy was so concerned about.

It was hand-shaped, clear indents marked where her nails were. It hurt a little back then, but after a little ice and a kiss on the bruise everything was fine again. So why did his teacher look at it so vexatiously?

“I was playing football with my cousin,” he started explaining, Puffy seemed relieved to hear that. “Then Mum came out of nowhere and started fighting with Dad”. At that, she froze a little. Children and their weird story telling, saying the least important thing first.

“Then she grabbed me and tried to pull me in her car, but Aunty pulled me away and told her something I’m not allowed to repeat anymore.”

“What did she say?”

“Can you promise to not tell Dad?”

“I promise”

Tommy leaned in, hands forming a tube so that no other child would hear his words “Piss off you homewrecker”, he giggled slightly, not having the slightest clue what they meant but they sounded funny so repeating them was also funny.

“Aha.” Miss Puffy was not impressed. Her face went through a series of expressions, none of which Tommy fully understood.
“Where is your Mum now?”

“I don’t know. We moved here after that happened”

“Right. You said your parents got into a fight, can you tell me what that fight was about”

“I don’t know. Mum just sorta,” Tommy interrupted his sentence by mimicking a few punches into the air. “Noone really tells me anything.” It was true. Asking about the family dinner got him shushed or given a concerned look, the entire family refused to acknowledge what happened and it was infuriating. He had a right to know how, what, and why something germinated.

And suddenly, while Tommy was mentally complaining about being left in the dark, something clicked in Puffy’s brain. Little tidbits of information were putting themselves together like puzzle pieces, or like the last few blocks on a star wars lego set where the only thing left to do was put the little figurine into a seat.

The pitifully and poorly hidden strangulation marks, the black eye, the folded-in-on-itself posture, the soft-spoken and shy tone Tommy’s father spoke in. It painted a horrible picture Puffy desperately hoped to forget. How old was even Tommy’s mother? Around Dream’s age? Older?

“What about now? Is everything alright now, nobody is hurting you?” As much as she wanted to believe Tommy’s father was a good person, she’d rather hear it from his son first. The abused becomes the abuser in way too many cases.

“Yea, now that we moved here everything is better. Dad’s also happier!” Past conversation was already brushed under a metaphorical rug, life is great now! Nothing to worry about anymore. Unless M̶u̶m̶ his other supposed parent showed up on their doorstep and threatened legal action, life was only planning to go uphill from here!

“That’s good to hear, I’ll stop bugging you for now. Let’s get back to your friends and see if they decided on a game.”

“Ok!”

Puffy looked around as Tommy skipped to the bigger group of kids. She should probably warn Karl about the family situation before he makes wrong assumptions.

Talking about Karl, where was he?

— — —

Last conversation, still too fresh on her mind, she sat on one of the tables at the teachers lounge, nursing a cup of tea that had become too cold for her liking. The kids were asleep, carefully tucked into the thick sleeping mats in one of the dark rooms, nightlight obviously still shining.

Children did not deserve to be treated like punching bags, no one did, but children especially. The fact that someone would do anything that might harm one was so alien, so inhuman.

Taking another sip of her lukewarm tea, she glanced around the room. It was dimly lit and quiet, only the sound of faint air conditioning breaking the silence. Not many caretakers were present today, the flu was going around and nobody wanted to be the idiot to spread it to the kids.

Puffy’s thoughts yet again drifted back to her new student’s father. He seemed pleasant enough, if not a little anxious and paranoid. Which was to be expected, guessing by the confusingly unnecessary amount of paperwork he had on him, this was probably his first rodeo.

She didn’t have the time to look at each one that was handed to her, only the most important ones. But thinking back at the interaction, and the slight peeks she did manage to get at other files, it should have probably been clear that something had happened in that family one might consider concerning.

One thing she couldn’t forget was the child custody order that peeked out behind the paternity order. Something happened, a divorce probably. Tommy’s mother was still alive, but considering past circ*mstances, she probably wasn’t a good parent. Tommy hesitated before calling her his mum for the first time, making a weird facial expression as if he wasn’t used to the word.

Puffy sighed and put her tea down. A knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. Karl, appearing out of nowhere in the same manner he had disappeared, entered the lounge a little frizzled up. His clothes were wrinkled and there was dirt stuck to his shoes. Poor thing must‘ve tripped somewhere.

“Hello Miss Puffy. Are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he still had the pirate hat on, slightly askew. His body posture was showing signs of anxiety, like he was expecting something to jump at him from out of nowhere.

“Yea, just … thinking,” she should probably warn him now. “Our new student, Tommy, he was in your group, right?”

“Yep, something wrong?”

“Did he say something about his homelife that sounded… mildly concerning?”

“Not that I remember, no. He mentioned baking something with his father later as some kind of ‘survival gift’, like, surviving the first day of kindergarten. Why are you asking?”

She took a deep breath “I had a conversation with Tommy earlier, and some things he mentioned raised a few red flags about his home life. He talked about his parents fighting and his mom trying to take him away. He even had a bruise on his arm that he said was from her.”

“Oh. Should we report it?”

“Not yet-” another deep breath. “He and his father moved very far away from her, I’m assuming because she was abusive, but I don’t want to make any quick assumptions. He doesn’t seem to be in any danger anymore, I’ll talk to his father tomorrow”

“Why tomorrow?”

“I’ve got a lot to do today, I don’t think I have the time to fully talk to him”

“alright” his voice was quiet again.

A notification nearly made him jump. Fiddling with his phone, Karl looked at the text. His expression was a grotesque mix of annoyance, fear, and worry. “I’m going to check on something, be right back!” he excused himself, fleeing from the seating area.

I wonder what that message was about?

— — —

It was now pick up time, or rather late pick up time, for the kids whose parents worked longer hours. Tommy and another kid, Purpled, were sitting at the bench behind the entrance gate. It was warm outside today. Almost no clouds in the bright blue sky. Sun glowing brightly, people taking refuge beneath trees and alleys. Beautiful for taking a walk outside.

For no actual reason at all, Tommy requested going outside right now or else he’d explode. Opening the front door, the boy practically threw himself out. And out there, looking a little stunned, as if he had just encountered a surcharge at a formally surcharge-free ATM, stood Tommy's father, mid-step.

“Dad!” Tommy was at an all time high, jumping up and down. That nap really recharged him.

”Hey champ! How was your first day at daycare?” The nickname was cute, it fit him well.

Tommy started talking about today, words flowing out with excitement basically dripping down onto the pavement. About the treasure hunt, about the competition.

“Tommy was a joy today,” she remarket with a chuckle “Truly one of the best behaving kids I’ve ever had”

Smiling and nodding, Tommy’s father got up, bid her adieu, and headed back home with Tommy, hand in hand, still intently listening to the story which included so many exaggerations it almost sounded fake. Who taught this kid so many adjectives?

Karl appeared yet again behind her, troubled countenance still plastered on. Knitted eyebrows and fixated eyes. He had his phone in hand, a message she couldn’t read was about to be sent, then deleted and rewritten again.

Was that a leaf in his hair?