take this compass, follow it home

and so it is

TW: crying, screaming, breakdown, general shittiness of the foster system, auditory hallucinations, mentions of weed

June comes around and things aren't perfect, but then again Tommy's not really sure if he wants perfection. He wants- he wants communication, and he wants family. He wants forgiveness and responsibility. He wants, he wants- happiness isn't quite right, because he isn't always happy but- satisfaction. He wants satisfaction with his life, with his family, with his friends.

He wants to be content.

It takes a long time. They end up doing family therapy, all four of them, as well as splitting off into duos. Tommy has a few sessions with just Wil, focusing on their relationship, apologies, forgiveness, acceptance, and trust. He makes his amends.

And they work things out. Things are- things are okay and Tommy, Tommy for the first time in forever, feels at home.

Which of course is when everything goes wrong again.

Wilbur's playing guitar, singing something about doormats and Twitch chats that has Tommy peeking his head out and, after a moment, making his way to Wilbur's door.

The door's open, and Wilbur sees him, nodding him in with a bright smile.

Tommy returns it, and enters, grabbing the bean bag that he's slowly claimed as his spot in Wilbur's room.

Wilbur wears a loose hoodie, slightly thicker than his normal sweaters, most likely an excuse to get away without wearing a bra. Not that Tommy thinks anyone in the house particularly cares, but he knows Wilbur's a bit sensitive about it.

Another minute passes, Wilbur still singing gently, before Techno raps on the door. Wilbur gestures him in as well, and instead of taking his usual spot on Wilbur's bed, he squishes himself on Tommy, draping himself across him for a moment to grab one of Wilbur's many pillows. Tommy protests with a squawk, and pushes him off.

"I didn't know we were having a party," Techno remarks dryly.

"Neither did I," Wilbur returns in kind, "You weren't exactly invited."

"Hmm," Tech says, "I heard bad social skills and came running."

Wilbur snorts, and Tommy chucks a small pillow at Techno. Techno grabs it, adding it to the collection he's slowly gaining, pilling each one on top of him. The beanbag that Techno had previously been sitting on is also on his lap, and he's slowly being buried by it along with the pillows.

Wilbur snorts at him.

"Tommy, grab the weighted blanket?" Wilbur suggests. Tommy leaps to his feet and grabs the brown blanket off of Wilbur's bed, heaving the heavyweight into his arms before dropping it onto Techno.

"We have these for a reason y'know," Tommy snarks.

Techno hums, unmoving and sinking further under the growing pile.

"I've become one with the pressure stim," he announces. He then looks critically at Tommy. "Tommy, how much do you weigh?"

"What?"

"Join the pile," Techno insists, "You're tiny, you won't squash me like Wilbur does.

"It's not my fault you're short!" Wilbur protests. And Techno's not small by any means, Wilbur's just a giant.

"I'm barely shorter than Wil!" Tommy complains. Techno ignores them both. With a huff, Tommy gets up once more, stands over Techno and his pile, before falling onto the cushions and blankets.

"Oof," Techno says, when he lands, before immediately sighs. "Yup. This 's good. Imma take a nap now."

"Techno, if you fuck up your sleep schedule anymore than it already is, Dad's gunna kill you."