Debts To Be Settled

2

Tommy watches the silver car pull out from the alleyway parking spot into the street. The driver, his boss, Madeleine, smiles at him briefly before her attention is cast upon the dimly lit asphalt and the small bursts of traffic that run through this area, even in the late hours of the night. Like a good boss, Madeleine was the last to leave, other than Tommy, who lives at the tailor shop. As the headlights of her car merge into the long succession of other headlights, Tommy uses the key to lock the front doors. He grabs the handle, pulling and pushing with all his might. When the door doesn't budge, he steps away from the door. He turns his attention to the windows. He steps into the displays, flipping the light switches on the wall. The display's lights turn off, suddenly illuminated by the street lamp on the other side of the glass. Tommy goes to the other display window to do the same thing.

Tommy steps deeper into the main part of the shop. The street lamp provides some lighting, but it is mainly shrouded in deep shadows. Tommy has always thought the shop was a little eerie at night, especially when he sees the mannequins in the corner of his eyes, but he powers through his reservations. He refuses to let his fear of the dark ruin him, although the reason he knows it doesn't is because he isn't actually scared of the dark. Not this darkness, anyway. He's scared of the all-consuming kind, the one that takes away his vision and fills his lungs and stuffs his ears. He's terrified of the darkness that feels like it is getting closer and closer to him, like the walls that are there in the light have become one with the darkness, giving it form enough to crush him. His hands only start trembling when he feels them pressing against his chest, no room to reach out, feeling his heart thudding so painfully against his ribs when he knows he isn't breathing.

Tommy takes a shuddering breath. He's also scared of the darkness in his memories, so he needs to steer clear of that. He has a job to do. He has a couple of dress shirts he needs to finish by the morning. Tommy opens his eyes- unaware he closed them- and finds himself staring at something that can't be a mannequin. None of the mannequins are positioned to sit on the chairs surrounding the dressing rooms and the small stage where people get personally fitted. Also, none of the mannequins give off that small pinprick of attention that people do. Tommy's hands close into fists, and he dares not breathe as a pair of glowing green eyes pierce through the darkness. Because of the low lighting, the objects around Phantasm are cast in the same sickly light as his eyes. It feels like Tommy is being haunted, and perhaps he is considering Phantasm's powers.

"My dear healer, how are you? I know it's only been a few days, but you never know what life-changing things can happen on this island in that short amount of time," Phantasm asks, putting his arm on the back of the chair. He folds his arm back so that he can rest his cheek against his forearm.

Tommy thought what happened between them had been a fever dream. He does have a rather unhealthy habit of overworking himself. He's hallucinated before, so he assumed it like that (ignoring the fact that he never hallucinated such vivid details those times). He pushed it to the back of his mind like all the other traumatic events in his youth that he will deal with, eventually, after he feels a little safer in his mind and a whole lot safer in this city. Phantasm smiles, large and wicked, and Tommy knows that he's not hallucinating.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk. I get that reaction a lot. It hurts my feelings, but what can I do? I don't want to hurt my tailor before they've even started my new suit. And I went through all the trouble of getting materials," Phantasm says after a long moment of silence in which Tommy tries to keep his body upright and his mouth shut. He cannot afford to do anything stupid like he did last time. He really doesn't want to upset Phantasm, no matter how much the villain pisses him off.

"Meet me upstairs!" Phantasm calls, disappearing from sight. Tommy takes a step forward, hesitating. The weird pinprick of attention is still there. Tommy glances around warily. Did Phantasm bring someone else with him? Or... Tommy shakes his head. He doesn't want to think about the alternatives. He doesn't need to give Phantasm any more of a reason to think he's special. Tommy is not and will never be, not if he can help it.