Lavender Snow

Guilt

Tommy was hungry.

He was hungry, tired, and he had a headache. His clothes were smelly and dirty and he was sure his face wasn't much better.

Oh, and he had abandoned his best friend.

Tommy put his head in his hands, scrubbing furiously at his eyes even though the tears had stopped flowing hours ago. I'm such a fucking asshole, it was supposed to be me that stayed behind, if I had just been better, we both would have been able to escape. I'm such a fucking idiot, he must hate me if he's even still alive. I fucking suck. I hate this stupid world with its stupid people and stupid rules.

I fucking hate this.

His fingernails dug into the skin on his wrist, opening up some of the dots. Blood oozed between his fingers but he couldn't feel anything.

He was just. . . tired.

And hungry.

Tommy sat a moment longer in the alley, then took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling back onto the street. The sun had just gone down and everything was blanketed in a cold shade of grey.

Tommy didn't care what he looked like. He didn't care what rules he was breaking. If someone saw him and decided to beat him up, so be it.

He deserved it.

For now, however, he just wanted some food. The stores were all closed, but a small pink building at the end of the street had its lights still on. With luck, he could slip in as the owner was leaving and help himself to whatever was in there.

Unfortunately, it seemed luck had deserted him again. Just as soon as he had reached the back door of the store, it swung open, smacking him in the face. It seemed these things had a habit of happening to him.

"Oh, sorry!" A young girl rushed around the door, freezing when she saw him. "Oh. . . Are you all right?"

Tommy lowered his hand from his nose, saw red on it, and carefully tucked it behind his back, switching Benson to the arm holding Henry against his chest. "'M fine."

"Your nose is bleeding," the girl pointed out, which was rather obvious to Tommy. "Not to mention. . . everything else."

"Rube," Tommy scoffed. Fuck rules, if he was attacked, fine. If he was discarded, all for the best. Being respectful was the last thing on Tommy's mind right now. "'M fine, okay? I jus' wanded do sdeal your shid."

The girl put her hands on her hips. "You wanted to steal from my bakery? You're openly admitting this? You have ten seconds to tell me why before I call someone."

"Call sobeone for whad?"

"Obvious child abuse!!" The girl waved her hands in a grand gesture at Tommy. "You're all cut up and bruised! And no wonder you were trying to steal some food from me, you're nothing but skin and bones!"

"Da scradches are frob rosebushes, 'm fine." Tommy tore off a piece of his shirt and shoved it up his nose, coaxing a look of disgust from the girl. "Look, see? 'M fine."

The girl rolled her eyes. "Teenage boys, I swear," she muttered. "Just come inside, I'll get you some food."

She turned around and went back inside the bakery. Tommy took the opportunity to hop over a low, colorful wall and run as fast as he could away from the girl.

Well, that couldn't have been worse, Tommy thought.

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀

Tommy didn't know where his legs were taking him until he spotted the dark green car parked in a driveway across the street.

Phil's car.

Tommy squeezed Henry and Benson tighter, cursing his stupidity but continuing to walk to the house. What am I doing, they don't want me, they don't like me, they already got rid of me once, they'll do it again.

But still he staggered to the backyard, ignoring the strange sensation of wet grass under his sore, bare feet. He couldn't stay here. He just wanted to see Phil and Kristin again.

He curled up on the back porch, back against the door. His vision blurred. I shouldn't have left him, I shouldn't have disobeyed, I was supposed to let myself be discarded, I wasn't even going to be discarded, I should have gone to the emperor it's all my fault I fucked up I'm a failure I deserve to be discarded anyways just like Purpled and Karl and Fundy and I should have died like all the rest I should've been killed by Fai I should have died I should have died I should be dead—

"There is a child on the porch."

Tommy gasped and scrambled to his feet. A stranger was standing in the doorway, mug in hand, staring down at him.

Fuuuuuck. Wrong house.

"I'm sorry, s-sir, I was just— I just— I'm sorry, I'll just— I'll go, I didn't m-mean to—"

"What. The fuck." The man said in a monotone voice. "What. The. Fuck."

Tommy tried to back away, but the man grabbed his hands, turning them over to examine his arms. Henry and Benson dropped to the ground. Tommy's breath caught, struggling to suck in air.

"S-sir, no, please, please, I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry, I'll go, I'll go, I'm sorry, I promise it won't happen again, I'm sorry—"

"Shut."

Tommy shut.

The man rubbed his wrist with his thumb. "What are these dots."

"N-nothing, they're nothing, please—"

"Inside. Now." The man tugged him in the house, steering him to a couch. "Stay."

And with that, he was alone. From upstairs he heard the man calling out, "Dadza?"

Tommy curled his legs up to his chest, wiping his nose and eyes. He could run right now, should run right now, but the intimidating man seemed like he could easily catch up to him, even with a head start. So instead he tucked his head in his arms and tried desperately to stop crying.

"Tommy?!"

His head shot up. Coming down the stairs in a black robe like an angel was—

"Phil!" Tommy croaked. He dashed over, tackling Phil and burying his face in the soft fabric. Sobs wracked his body as he gripped the man's robe in tightly clenched fists, not wanting to let go ever, not wanting to let another person go. A hand came up and rested in his hair, drawing a whimper out of him.

"Shh, shh, you're okay, mate, you're okay. What happened? How did you get here? Why are you covered in scratches?" Phil scratched his scalp gently, and it felt so right even though it didn't hurt. Why hadn't they been allowed this, it would have recharged them so much faster. . .

"Tech, will you get Kristin and Wil please?"