Tommy's Ultra-Important Keychain

Chapter 12: Getting shot is better than this

Tommy understood why Wilbur made his meetings with Niki mandatory.

This woman was a nightmare.

She was vicious, and unrelenting. Their first meeting was hell. Her smiles were an illusion, meant to lure you into a false sense of security so she could crush your spirit. She laughed in the face of despair, feeding on the blood of the weak!

She was a brutal personal trainer.

Niki was small and sweet before and after their sessions, just long enough for Wilbur to walk away. Then, she was terrifying. She had no problem yelling to motivate him, and if she had to shove him around, she wouldn't shy away.

Tommy was sore beyond all sense of the word. Niki forced him to run two laps around the basketball courts right off the bat. She switched to push-ups and squats after that, then fifty-thousand exercises he was too close to passing out to remember.

Wilbur could not have come soon enough. He was crumpled on the ground, clawing at his water bottle. Tommy could've begged his mentor to carry him, but his voice was raw from bitching the entire work-out.

"He's flimsy," Niki said. "But he'll be whipped into shape in no time."

Tommy wanted to take offense to that, but she was so obviously right.

"I'll give him a list of exercises he should do every morning and night in order to keep him fit," she yawned. "If he sticks to it, he won't be as sore for our next couple of sessions."

Tommy would do anything to never feel this pain again. He should've quit his apprenticeship, moved to another town, whatever he could do. But he couldn't, because the moment he was in the car, Wilbur said, "I'm very proud of you. I'll get you some ice-cream to celebrate."

He hated that he could be bought so simply.

Tubbo fretted over him when he got home, groaning in pain. It felt nice to be babied, but he couldn't relax. The next day, he had work. Being a cashier was suddenly ten times harder. His legs, core, and arms burned.

Niki did not let up, no matter how much Tommy complained. Two weeks and four sessions later, he was finally starting to feel a little better. True to her word, he was never as sore as he was after their first meeting, and that was definitely because of the repetitive work-outs he was required to do before bed.

There hadn't been a single night in those two weeks where he struggled to fall asleep. It was more of a fight to stay awake past eight in the evening. Wilbur drove him to work, and Tubbo took care of laundry, so he could relax during his rare freetime.

Ranboo was less sympathetic, but Tommy didn't really mind. His manager had fussed over him the entire time he was injured, even going so far as to do his work for him. For that entire three week healing process, Ranboo never skipped a shift or went home early like he usually did when there were fewer customers.

"If you're just sore from working out, I think that's something you should have to learn to work with," Ranboo told him smugly. Tommy had forgotten how sadistic his boss could be. Obviously, there hadn't been enough rowdy customers for him to take out his anger on. "It's good you want to work on yourself."

That was that. As much as Tommy considered Ranboo a close friend, he couldn't argue with his boss. At least, not about this. There would always be arguments about who would clean the machines.

Eret contacted him about halfway through the second week. Tommy wasn't sure how they got his phone number, but he was so pleased by the sketches that he didn't mind. There were three possible costume designs that Wilbur specifically enjoyed.