Tommyinnit's top ten ways to save the world

How To Run From The Mess You Made

Well, that was a lie.

Everything was decidedly not alright.

It had been a week since he had decided that everything would be fine.

A long, pain filled week of learning how to fight like a hero and being punished when he didn't, because, according to Dream, heroes must never fight like a " dirty little street kid." 

A whole week of coming home with bruises littering every square inch of his skin and collapsing. 

A week of having Ranboo and Tubbo stop talking the moment he entered the room, then proceed to freak the fuck out over some tiny little bruises he had gained that day.

And the cherry on top of the absolutely wonderful week he'd been having, was the man racing towards him, his hair flying everywhere.

His eyes widened as he noticed Tommy, digging his heels into the pavement to no avail.

"Shit!" The man swore as he slammed into him, both of the crashing to the ground.

He threw out his arms, grazing them in the process, and stood up, tucking his wings behind him before he could notice. 

Tommy threw a glance around the street taking in as much info as he could.

A branch would snap; stop signs are heavy but might work; the bag would make the man even more mad. 

His eyes snagged on a bit of the path sticking up.

Perfect.

The coffee Tommy had planned on drinking was now plastered all over the man's expensive yellow jumper, and he silently mourned the for coffee as he inched closer to the loose pavement. 

The stranger had taken his sweet time getting up, clearly, he was from somewhere rich like Las Nevadas or some shit like that.

When he had finally stood up, Tommy had nearly made it the loose piece of path, and he braced to run for it when the stranger picked a fight. 

"Shit, shit shit!" the man hissed under his breath.

Oh he was pissed alright.

The man turned to him, and Tommy finally got a good look at his face.

He couldn't have been older than 26. Curly brown puffs of hair fell into his eyes and framed a face that was clear of any bruises, scars or dirt, confirming that he lived somewhere well off.

"So sorry about that, I was lost in thought and wasn't looking where I was going," the man explained, sounding apologetic.

Tommy wasn't fooled so easily though. 

"I spilled coffee on your shirt." 

"Oh! Yes, um..." he glanced back down to his shirt, chewing his lip. 

"It doesn't really matter, I can replace it."

Nice try, buddy.

The shirt clearly had some value to him, sentimental or otherwise.

So why was he lying?

What did he want?

And then it hit him.

"I can't pay for cleaning" Tommy said, eyeing the stained fabric. That kind of clothing was way to costly for him to clean and still have enough for rent. The free food he got at Hero HQ helped, but not enough to pay shit tons over a jumper.