The Silence of a Somber Day

Acid Rain

"Tommy... Tom? Please, open the door," Wilbur said, knocking on the wooden door to Tommy's apartment. It was his fifth time there that week, and he was no closer at getting Tommy to open the door. Wilbur was just about ready to break down the door. He would take the charges of breaking and entering if it meant making sure Tommy was alive. The blonde had locked himself away, and refused to look at his communicator ever since Niki and Jack were kidnapped. It was fair, of course, but Wilbur was worried.

The door swung open slowly, and Wilbur finally got to see his little brother. His blonde hair was matted down with parts sticking together, almost dripping with natural oil. His face was pale as a sheet with sunken cheeks and dark bags. He was wearing a blanket over a jacket over a hoodie, and Wilbur could tell just by standing in front of Tommy that wearing all of that wasn't improving his condition. Even though he looked and smelled like sentient garbage crawling out of a toilet after a bunch of hillbillies had taco night without flushing, Wilbur let out a sigh of relief.

"You had us worried, mate," Wilbur whispered as he looked Tommy up and down. He needed this reassurance after a long week of suffering knowing his best friend Niki was being tortured by the elusive cult, and his surrogate brother was torturing himself within his headspace. In light of Tommy's recent comments, Wilbur was scared that the corpse-like smell would lead to the actual thing.

Tommy didn't react. He didn't curse while calling Wilbur clingy, didn't push away or wrap his arms around Wilbur, didn't laugh or cry or shout in rage. Tommy stood there like a statue, and Wilbur was more terrified of that than the mystery of whether or not Tommy was alive. Eventually, Wilbur couldn't handle the stress, so he nudged Tommy inside while closing the door with a soft, "C'mon, mate, let's fix you up."

Wilbur had never been inside Tommy's apartment, but he had his assumptions. Wilbur was sure that Tommy's place was naturally be a mess. He was wrong. Tommy's apartment didn't have enough items to create a mess. Wilbur could see the TV he bought Tommy plugged up, sitting on the floor at the foot of a lawn chair. The kitchen didn't have any food laying out, and Wilbur wanted to believe that there was some can or ramen in the cupboards. That was it. That was all there was. Wilbur decided refurnishing Tommy's apartment was a problem for another time.

"Here's the agenda, Toms. Shower, food, movie. Even if it takes all day and night, I am not leaving you like this," Wilbur said. Tommy didn't make any inclination that he understood Wilbur's words. Wilbur didn't try again as he went down the short hallway to find Tommy's room. A comforter on the floor with a few pillows, and a pile of clothes that looked like someone attempted to arrange them neatly. Wilbur flipped through what he could before finding swimming trunks and a warm green hoodie that honestly looked too small for Tommy. Wilbur couldn't do much better.

"Tommy," Wilbur chanted softly as he returned to the living room where Tommy had migrated to the floor, bundling back up in his blanket. A redness was quickly seeping into Tommy's skin, and Wilbur loathed to think of Tommy growing ill. Wilbur took Tommy's hands, brushing the blanket off as he guided Tommy to the bathroom. A toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, and a rag were left on the sick, and some toilet paper sat in stacks by the plunger. It lacked a design or message or even extra towels. Wilbur looked under the sink to find a towel he could use.

"Alright, Tommy, please put this swimming trunks on. I know it's cold, but I need you to do this," Wilbur begged in a quiet whisper, laying in his powers into the voice. Tommy stared at Wilbur like a cow sees their farmer, but eventually, Tommy shed the jacket onto the ground. Wilbur turned his back to Tommy, fiddling with the water in the meantime. It couldn't be extremely hot because Tommy seemed seconds away from a fever, but Wilbur wouldn't torture Tommy with an icy bath. Not now, anyways.

"'old," Tommy slurred as he shivered. Wilbur gave him a smile as he helped ease the boy in the tub. Wilbur had never imagined he would be bathing a kid like a parent to their young offspring, but Wilbur knew that he needed to do this. Wilbur spoke lowly to Tommy like he was a dog, telling the blonde everything Wilbur was to do before he did it. The hair was a bit disgusting, but Wilbur managed to lather it in shampoo enough for an adult male gorilla. Tommy purred lazily, and Wilbur added head pats/rubs to his list of things that comforted Tommy.

Even though all Tommy did was sit there, he seemed tired out from the bath. Tommy had to be dragged from the tub, stumbling like a drunk man, onto the cold tile because Tommy didn't own a bathmat. Wilbur bundled Tommy in the towel, cursing the small size when Tommy was shivering in the cold. Wilbur dried off Tommy as quick as he could that way Tommy could change into the hoodie that Wilbur had brought along.

"Step two! Food," Wilbur said as he pulled Tommy back into a standing position. Tommy almost fell forwards, but quickly caught himself before he plummeted. Wilbur pushed Tommy out of the room, guiding him by the shoulder into the kitchen. Like Wilbur suspected, the cupboards were all nearly empty. He did find some plastic containers, ramen packages, and packaged utensils in one of the drawers. Wilbur filled one of the containers with water before plopping the hardened noodles, and plopped it in the microwave for the two and a half minutes the package required.

With one minute left, someone knocked on the door. Wilbur flinched so hard that he dropped the plastic spork onto the ground. Wilbur cursed as he picked it up, trotting over to door. Wilbur looked through the peephole to see a distorted image of a woman with curly white locks with some reflecting rainbow colors like sunlight through streaming water. She was wearing a red coat, and was holding her body with her arms like she was seconds from breaking.

Wilbur swung the door open, recognizing the woman. This was Cara Puffy, usually just called Puffy. While technically a hero and not apart of the Syndicate, Puffy had never done anything against the group. Plus, she was Niki's beloved and one of the best therapists Wilbur knew. The two weren't close by any means, but Wilbur had enough confidence in Puffy to invite her over to Tommy's place to help the blonde out. This could be mutual healing, Wilbur reflected as he saw how exhausted Puffy looked.

Before either could talk, Wilbur heard the microwave go off. He gave Puffy an apologetic smile as he rushed back inside, leaving the door open for the sheep hybrid. Tommy was standing by the counter like he was when Wilbur left him, not making any move to retrieve his food. Wilbur went to open the microwave, almost dropping the container on the stove when he felt the heat. Wilbur sucked in a sharp breath as he lowered the container to the stovetop without dropping it despite the sharp heat.

"Hey, Tommy," Puffy said gently as she kept her distance from the blonde while remaining in sight. She spread her fingers out to show that she wasn't hiding anything. "I knew and loved Niki. I understand how hard this must be. Niki has a way of being a mother hen. She would tell me about you, did you know that? How proud she was of you, how scared she was when you jumped, how much she hated Drunkard for even looking at you. She cared so much about you. That makes me believe that she's coming back to us. She loved you, me, Wilbur, and even Jack too much to let herself die. She's going to return to us. You have to believe in that."

Puffy raised her arms towards Tommy. He stared blankly at it, before his face twisted with grief, tears falling slowly down his pale cheeks. Tommy muttered something as he began scratching his arm again. Puffy stepped closer, keeping her arms wide. Tommy looked into her eyes before falling into Puffy's arms, choked sobs escaping his lips. Puffy held him tight while humming an old sea shanty.

——

"You will find and you will kill Theseus Innit," The man said underneath his hood as he stared at his two victims. The man turned to the girl in the dark purple hoodie with scaly wings behind her back. The girl glared at him with her sharp green eyes glared down at him. "Draca, you will handle your brother, yes?"

"You don't tell me what to do," Draca scowled at him, breathing out a purple mist. "If his head falls, it's because I wanted it to be that way."

—//—

Little note: Draca is not an OC. A canon character with a nickname, alright?