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Tommy was numb. He couldn't cry anymore nor could he smile. He had shut down after being told the news, he wasn't thinking nor was he in the moment. It was a blur and a mess of pain that Tommy couldn't get out of. That night he had just cried, all he could do was cry and even then it didn't help the absolute pain he was feeling both mentally and physically.
Because he genuinely thought that the Watson family was the house he would stay with until he was 18. They had told him, over and over and over again, that no matter what he could always stay with them. He had been with them for a year and a half, and it had been the first time he had enjoyed his stay at a house. He wanted to stay with them. He wanted to so badly it hurt. He had really wanted to say. And yet he couldn't? Because on Tuesday the 27th Phil had sat him at the table, looked Tommy in the eye and said,
"Tommy, mate, we've got something to tell you." And Tommy had lit up, a beam trying to fight it's way through, was he going to be adopted? That's what Phil was going to say right? Right? He had always dreamt of this, and been told that this day would come and that it would be the happiest day ever and -
"We can't keep you in this house anymore."
Tommy's world stopped. The smile on his face falling off almost immediately, he couldn't look at Phil nor could he think. He sat there, the hard kitchen chair digging into his back, his mind absolutely blank. Because those words meant he was leaving, it meant he was going back into the system. It meant that they didn't want him anymore, that they had decided to give him up. It meant that he was so unlovable that even the people who had told him again and again they loved him, couldn't bare to stay with him. It meant that no matter how Tommy was no family or person wanted him. And it meant he was going back to the system. The fucking foster system, oh how he thought he would never never be saying that again. Because he thought this was it, he thought that finally finally he had found the place to stay, where he was loved and appreciated. And yet, apparently he wasn't.
And that night was the worst. Tommy had sat on the floor, duvet wrapped around him, staring at the floor in front of him while he cried. And he went through different stages of crying, some were loud, ugly, harsh sobs that ripped out of him and other times he was biting onto his t-shirt as he quietly cried, tears free falling down his face. But it was a continuous affair, and Tommy had almost begged to go to sleep just to end this torture of staying alive and reliving all the happy memories he had of staying with them. But sleep never came, just the endless mind numbing pain.By the time it was the morning, his head was pounding and his eyes were so red there was no white. His t-shirt was soaked in multiple places and his cheeks were red and blotchy.
And when Wilbur had knocked on the door, quietly telling him that they had cooked pancakes- his favourite- Tommy didn't move or answer him. He couldn't bring himself to hate them, no matter what they had done. He sat in his misery pit and tried to detach himself from what was going on. Because the heartbreak he was feeling was unmatched to anything he had felt before. It was a heavy pain, where every thing hurt, where his heart was so heavy he could feel it. Where it felt like there was a belt rapped around his chest so he couldn't breathe. And when he finally made it downstairs, not feeling remotely hungry, he didn't look at anyone or return their greeting. He sat curled up on the sofa, a glass of juice on the table in front of him untouched and stared off with a blank expression.
And maybe, Phil winced as he saw his son- child he was looking after- as he came down the stairs, because maybe he had never seen a child look that destroyed especially because it was Phil's own fault. And maybe the guilt he was feeling was eating him alive and maybe he didn't know what to do, but it didn't matter because all he could focus on was how destroyed this teenager was.
And maybe, Wilbur had heard Tommy's cries all night, and maybe half way through he had joined in. The sadness that they were sending him back, all consuming. He cried for the brother he was about to lose, he cried for the child who must be feeling so betrayed and hurt right now. He cried because he was breaking so many promises he had made with the youngest and the sobs from the younger boy were so heart wrenching that he would like to see someone try no to cry, but Wilbur didn't mention it either.
And maybe, Techno had made pancakes as a final goodbye because he knew that Tommy loved them. And maybe, his heart had sunk because he saw Tommy not even bother get a plate out to each them. But he didn't blame the young teenager because after all, it was his family that were kicking him out and it was his family who had decided to do that.
And so, after a while, Tommy had gotten bored at being miserable in the dinning room and went back upstairs to pack up his things. Numb and emotionless. He took his bag out the bottom of the cupboard, and he set it on the bed and gradually item by item had filled it with things. He left the clothes and objects the family had brought him over the time he had lived there, any clothes, decorations or books where left. If Tommy had kept one thing from each person that is for Tommy to know, perhaps a yellow jumper, Greek mythology and raccoon drawing had ended up in his bag. He had put everything Ranboo and Tubbo had given him in there though. Dread filling his stomach as he knew that he would have to make the decision to say goodbye to them or leave without doing so.
And when that was done, he had fallen asleep, so emotionally tired from the last 12 hours that he hadn't realised just how tired he was. And when he awoke it was dinner time, and he knew that they would have one last dinner together. Tommy honestly can't remember it, having blocked it out from his memory. It had hurt too much, knowing that in the morning Sally was going to be there to pick him up. Every question asked had been shut down, the food on his plate left and no eye contact was made. Tommy left as soon as he could with that one.
He had come to the conclusion he couldn't say goodbye to Ranboo and Tubbo in person. It would hurt too much, and he was too embarrassed. After all, he had excitedly told them how he was sure the Watson's were the one and that he would stay at least until he was 18, but he was wrong. So bad and hopelessly wrong, he couldn't bring himself to see them. So he wrote them letters, not wanting to say goodbye at all.
And that was it, that was all he could do. Everything packed and ready, there was no trace of him left. It was like he had never been, but Tommy guessed Phil had wanted that. It would be easier for them to forget him and his existence. If he had hurt them that much to make them send him off then he didn't want to torture them with the memory of him. Everything had been tidied up and empty. Things stacked, dusted and cleaned.
And now, it was the morning and Tommy was sitting on the steps of the house. The door behind him was wide open, and he could hear hushed voices behind him but he didn't care to join in or listen. He just sat there, letting this scarring and hurting pain wash over him again and again. Because he deserved it, it was his fault. He should have kept his guard up like he had with other houses. He should have reminded himself that it wasn't his house or family or friends, that he didn't deserve any of this, but he had let it drop. He had let Wilbur's music and laugh create cracks, that was broken down more by Techno's late nights talks and reading of books, and Phil's 'love' who had said he was proud of Tommy and taken him to cool places.
Each Watson had left such a happy imprint of themselves on him and Tommy couldn't bear to look at them because it reminded him that they weren't how he thought they were. That they didn't love him, that they hadn't meant any of that, and that broke Tommy more than you can imagine. That these people, these people who had seen him at his worse and best and had helped him continuously, didn't want him anymore.
Those words, "We can't keep you in this house anymore", destroyed his trust in people for good, because he wouldn't be adopted, he would never get the happy ending and he would never get a house as good as this one. So he sat there, bag at his feet, eyes trained on the road waiting for this whole experience to end.
And when Sally's bashed blue Honda did pull up, and she got out. Tears formed in his eyes again, because this was it. This was where he had to leave and say goodbye. Never again would he play guitar with Wilbur, never again would he go to museums with Techno and never again would he get milkshakes with Phil. Never again would he have movie night, never again would he sit in his room with Tubbo and Ranboo and laugh until he couldn't breathe. And never again would he feel so happy he felt light enough he could fly. Never again would he feel so happy his cheeks hurt from smiling so much, because they were the only ones who had made him feel like that. And just like that it was gone.
Sally walked towards him, gathering him up in his arms like she had every time he had been kicked out. And he had openly sobbed into her shoulder.
And Phil and his sons watched as Tommy, who usually came to them when he needed comfort, broke down in the arms of his social worker. And when he stopped, and wiped his eyes. The way he looked broke them.
Tommy had this blank, vacant stare, unlike the one from yesterday where you could see the broken pieces of Tommy's soul, the pain shining through each individual crack and instead was this shuttered numb look. He stared at them and Phil jumped in recognition. This was the child that came to them at the beginning, this angry, hurt teenager who needed a home and Phil had promised Tommy to give him that home. And they had spent months getting Tommy better and all that work was undone.
"Tommy do you want to say goodbye." Sally said, her voice a soothing gush. Tommy shrugged, he didn't know what he wanted to do.
"I'll leave you guys to say goodbye, I'll see you in the car." Sally gave a pointed glare at each and every one of them before walking out. Tommy stood in the door, bag between his feet.
"Bye son," Phil said opening up his arms, Tommy bristled anger and hurt bubbling inside him as tears formed in his eyes. "You don't get to call me that anymore," Tommy hated how shaky and numb his voice was. He turned to look at Wilbur and Techno,
"Good luck in school guys, i'm sure you guys will do so well. You were always better than me. Thank you for being the best foster brothers I've ever had, and if you guys decide to foster another one, they will be such a lucky child. I really enjoyed my time here, and i'm sorry that i was a problem. I'm sorry that you guys felt like you had to send me back, I get it, I would send me back too." Tommy let out a wet laugh, " I just thought you guys would never do this, I lay in bed every night imagining you guys being my actual family and doing things 'families' did together, and i'm sad that i guess those will never happen. I'm sorry you guys couldn't love me and I'm sorry that it got to this point." Tommy smiled, not making eye contact with anyone in the room.
He picked his bag up, slung it on one shoulder,
"Bye guys, I really did love you," And turned around, walking down the path. Tommy didn't listen as all of them tried to talk to them, he didn't stop as Wilbur whimpered out his name or when Techno promised to call him. Because they had betrayed him, and they don't need to say anything. Tommy understood. He opened the passenger door, sat down and sighed. Slamming the door shut, and smiling at Sally as tears fell down his face, Sally started to drive.
Tommy didn't look back, he loved them so much it hurt and they didn't feel the same back.