Stolen Chances

Chapter Four

Tommy stared at the molded mustard door of his apartment, key in hand as he thought back to the interaction he had just had. His walk home was a bit of a blurred daze. He was honestly surprised he made it home in the first place.

The threat of getting arrested always hung over Tommy's head. He knew he was risking himself to keep his roommate's fed. But he hadn't thoroughly thought this through until the threats were already in place. He threatened them being put back into the system.

The door opened before he could even place his key in; he was faced with a tired-looking Tubbo on the other side. "I could hear you thinking, big man." The shorter of the two opened the door wider for the blonde to step in. "You were out late again,"

"Yeah, got held up with the coffee machine again." Tommy looked back over at brunet before turning to the couch. Ranboo sat curled up on it and frankly looked exhausted, his arms were wrapped around himself, and he was avoiding eye contact. "Everything alright, Ranboob?" The other met Tommy's eyes for a moment before he blinked hard, glancing away.

"I lost- I lost my job."

Tommy faltered in the center of the room. Tubbo was standing beside Tommy, letting out a heavy sigh while Ranboo's arms wrapped tighter around himself. "It's alright," Tommy assured him softly, "It's okay, it's fine- um," He stammered. Then, swallowing hard, he looked to Tubbo, who was still glaring daggers at the floor. "What-what happened?"

Ranboo swallowed heavily, "They said they couldn't keep me on anymore." Tubbo's hands had tightened into fists at his sides, "My memory- memory problems were causing issues," his voice cracked.

"They were dick heads!" Tubbo growled out.

Tommy shook his head, "That's fucked up. They should have been helping you not- not firing you for something you can't control." Ranboo wiped at his face before running his hands through his hair in a stressed fashion.

"I'm talking to Sam tomorrow," Tubbo was fiddling with a loose button on his shirt, twisting it up, then releasing it, watching it uncurl its threads. "See if he can take Ranboo on."

Tommy faltered, processing what Tubbo was saying. Sam was paying Tubbo as an intern until he entirely took him on his team, running a small mechanic shop that worked with computer repairs and the sort. It didn't pay much, just being an internship, but it was better than nothing while he and Ranboo brought in bigger paychecks. Sam hiring Ranboo would help, but it wouldn't be enough.

"I can take more hours," Tommy blurted out.

"You already work most nights," Tubbo whispered, shaking his head.

"Day shifts then, they pay bigger tips anyways." Tommy swallowed hard; it was true. The daytime hours saw more tips than he did. However, Tommy wasn't taking those shifts because he was "passive-aggressive" and "scared most" from the diner. Maybe he could talk to Karl, work in the back, or something.

"Tommy, that's a lot of hours," Ranboo stammered, "That- that can't be healthy."

"It's not forever. Just a precaution. Until you can get a job," Tommy nodded once, "It's okay." He ignored Tubbo's wince because it wasn't okay, it wasn't okay in the slightest, and they wouldn't be able to live off of one income for long.

"But Tommy," Ranboo paused, looking at Tubbo, who was still staring at the floor, and then a sob was ripped from his throat, shaking his shoulders from the force of it, "You don't deserve this."

The standing pair practically threw themselves onto the couch to comfort Ranboo, both squishing him in tight holds and drowning out his sobs with whispered reassurances. They could do this. They've survived worse. And if Sam didn't pull through, well. Tommy looked at his bag still in its spot beside the door, taunting in a way. He had options.