Chapter Text
When Tommy had seen the shadow creeping outside the cafe window, he didn’t think much of it at first. Sure, it was fucking terrifying the first time he saw it, but it was late at night and raining. He couldn’t see the person’s face in the shadows, so why wouldn’t he believe the man was just waiting the weather out?
Wilbur had also said it was probably nothing, an amused tilt to his lips when Tommy dramatically described what he saw with waving hands and a huffy tone. The brunette ruffling the blonde’s curly hair affectionately when Tommy had loudly proclaimed that he should’ve locked the front door just in case.
Still, though. The sight had lingered in the back of the boy’s mind. He had thought the stranger was facing away from the café. But the more he thought about it, the less sure he was, and the creepier the short interaction became.
It only got worse from there, though. He saw the stranger again a week later, their figure so very distinct and memorable. Tall, long trench coat, and some kind of earring that dangled in the wind. Though Tommy couldn’t tell what type of gem was on it.
Then, he started seeing things in the corner of his eyes. Black blotches outside of the café late at night when he was closing. They never stayed long, but the blonde couldn’t help the worried feeling in his chest. The fear that was steadily taking hold. For all he knew, it could’ve been paranoia that was making him imagine things. But Tommy continued to take the trash out as fast as possible and locked the front door as soon as the clock struck the closing time. He never once ventured out when it was too late into the night, and when he needed to go home, he’d run as fast as he could to the bus station.
Eventually, Wilbur had caught on to Tommy’s twitchy mood. It barely even took him a day to ask what was wrong, and then the fucker was insisting that he stay with Tommy until closing.
The blonde felt bad for taking up so much of the man’s time, but Wilbur merely brushed it off, and Tommy would never tell him how grateful he was.
Then, it was good for a while after that. Wilbur’s presence seemed to make the stranger back off for a bit. A few short weeks until they started giving gifts and notes and creepy photos of him slipped under the front door when Tommy wasn’t looking.
It was horrible and the police couldn’t do anything since there were no cameras in the shop and no sight of the man whenever they stopped by. The best they could, they had said, was keep an ear out. It pissed Tommy off, but he was more scared than upset, and there wasn’t anything he could do.
He needed this job. It was the only place to hire him even though he’s barely sixteen. He needed the money and the extra food he got to take home and, well; he needed everything about this place. Not to mention, if he quit, then how would he ever see Wilbur again?
So things weren’t great anymore, but at least Wilbur was trying to help him out. Even if Tommy would never take him up on his offer.
“All I’m saying, Toms, is that maybe you shouldn’t live in your apartment for a while. At least, not until things calm down! It could be dangerous!” The brunette sighed, holding one of Tommy’s hands in both of his as he leaned onto the counter. There was an intense look in his eyes, but the blonde couldn’t figure out the emotions there. He was too busy trying to get the clingy fucker’s hands off him so he could finish cleaning up.
“It’ll be fine, Wilbur.” The boy huffed with an eye roll, giving up on getting his hand back. For now. “I didn’t get any… things sent to my apartment and if I’m gone for too long, I’m sure my shitty landlord would just rent the place out to someone else.”
“Then you can just live with me.” Wilbur says, the grip on Tommy’s hand tightening just a little. As though the blonde would disappear if he let go. “You won’t have to worry about rent or food or security. I can give you all of that!”
Tommy fought down a grimace as the hairs on the back of his neck rose. He’d never seen Wilbur this… intense before, and now that he was actively looking, Tommy could tell how frazzled he was. His hair was slightly messy, and not in the intentional way, and his yellow sweater was wrinkled. He looked like he hadn’t slept, either. Just like Tommy.
“Chill out, Wilbur.” The blonde huffed with an eye roll, desperately trying to calm the older man down and lighten the mood. “I’m fine. Nothing is going to happen. Maybe you should head home soon, man. You don’t look good and maybe you’ll come to your senses after some sleep, yeah?”
Tommy tries to smile, though it feels a little strained, while Wilbur continues to stare him down. His eyes are wide and pupils completely blown, only accentuated by the bags under his eyes. It’s almost unnerving. But this is Wilbur. They’ve been friends for almost half a year now. They were practically brothers! He isn’t scared of the man.
Wilbur stares at him for a bit longer, long enough to where Tommy is starting to get uncomfortable, before the man smiles. It’s a reluctant and soft sort of thing, utterly worried but still relenting.
“Alright, alright. Why don’t you go lock up the storage room then? I can drive you home after.”
Tommy almost sighed in relief, feeling the tension in his shoulders bleed away as the brunette let go of his hand. It seemed like things were going back to normal now, hopefully. Maybe this was just a one-off thing, since Wilbur was clearly exhausted. Some sleep would surely do the man some good, he was looking a bit more shaky than usual, a shadow passing over his eyes like a haunting shade. The brunette would be fine come tomorrow afternoon, the guy just needed a break or something.
“Sure, I’ll be right back.” Tommy grinned, stepping away from the counter and down the hall that led to the storage room. It was already cleaned, there wasn’t much to be done besides locking it, and that only took maybe a minute to do. Normally, he’d do a quick count of everything before heading back out to leave with Wilbur, but it had been a slow day, and he’d ended up counting everything before the brunette had even shown up.
Tommy had counted everything thoroughly, too. Something he almost never did and usually made estimates since the owner literally couldn’t give less than a shit. The guy had hired a teenager, after all. It was really no surprise that he wasn’t super concerned with his café.
With a quiet jingle of his keys, Tommy had the storage door locked in less than a minute. Making sure that he couldn’t turn the handle before walking out into the hallway with a small pep in his step. He was excited to finally get home and away from this hellhole and his fucking stalker. Plus, Wilbur always stopped to buy him some food for the drive, and the blonde was fucking starving.
Yet as Tommy reached the end of the hallway, still partly hidden in the shadows, he paused at the odd sight before him.
Wilbur was crouched in front of the doors, his body angled over that one small bit where the metal wasn’t completely flushed with the ground. Where Tommy’s stalker would always hide a way to slip a photo or note into the shop, no matter how many times the boy tried to fix it.
For a moment, Tommy thought that the brunette had found another paper slipped into the café. However, before the blonde could call out to him, Wilbur slipped his hand into his pocket.
The world seemed to move in slow motion as Tommy watched, stepping back so he was more hidden in the shadows, even though the brunette wasn’t even looking in his direction.
Wilbur pulled out a photo. A small thing that looked like it was taken with a polaroid, just like all the other photos Tommy had gotten from his stalker.
The older man scribbled something onto the bottom of it, a little note.
Just like all the other photos Tommy had gotten from his stalker.
Tommy was practically frozen as Wilbur slid it up to the edge of the closed doors, right until a part of it was under the metal. Like it had been slipped in. Like someone pushed it into the cafe from the outside.
Like how Tommy had assumed his stalker had been doing.
The blonde took a quiet step back as Wilbur rose from his crouched position, pocketing the pen while Tommy kept his hands tightly over his mouth. Desperately trying not to make a sound. The brunette returned to his spot near the counter, leaning up against it and facing away from the door so it’d look like he hadn’t noticed anyone that was outside. Thankfully, the older man didn’t notice him, instead pulling out his phone so he looked even more busy.
Tommy needed to get out. He needed to get away. Fuck, he could barely even breathe from where he tried to keep quiet. His throat was so choked up that his chest was beginning to hurt, and he could hear the pounding of his heart in his chest.
It’s like his world suddenly crashed down around him. Fires burning away any good memories he had with the man and floods drowning whatever happy thoughts Tommy had about their relationship.
Wilbur was his stalker.
Fucking Wilbur.
The man he spent months getting to know. The man he saw as a fucking brother. His one comfort in the sea of all this horrible bullshit with his stalker. The one person who comforted him when the police refused to do anything and his boss refused to install cameras. The one person he felt safe with.
It was all a fucking lie. All of it!
Tommy couldn’t stop his full-body trembling, and he desperately tried to get a hold of himself.
He needed to get Wilbur out of here. He needed to call the fucking police.
But he couldn’t do that with his stalker in the goddamn cafe. It wasn’t safe. And surely Wilbur would hear him if he tried to unlock the storage room again.
What would he do if he found out that Tommy knew?
What was the whole point of all of this when they were already friends? Why do this? What did he want? Was he going to kill Tommy? He had so many opportunities to do so, yet he didn’t! So what was it?!
The blonde took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.
Who cares about what the guy wants? Obviously, he’s fucking insane and—and he probably doesn’t even have a reason. Maybe this was all just a game to him. Maybe it was a ploy to get close to Tommy just so he could laugh at how terrified he made the blonde almost every night.
The idea hurt more than Tommy thought it would.
But the blonde shook his head, stealing himself even if his hands still trembled. He needed to get Wilbur out of the café and then… and then he’d lock the doors and call the police to take him away! Sure, not the best plan there was, but the only plan he could fucking think of with his stalker right in front of him.
Tommy swallowed thickly, knowing he couldn’t hide forever and that if this were his regular schedule, he’d be done with counting the shit in the storage room by now.
The boy clenched his hands into fists, willing himself to step forward. His heart was racing and the back of his neck felt sweaty, but he still moved into the light, making sure his steps were a little louder than usual.
“Tommy!” Wilbur grinned and the bright glint in the man’s eyes was suddenly terrifying, yet Tommy managed a smile back. Desperately hoping it wasn’t as shaky as the rest of him. “Are you all ready to go? We can stop at McPuffy’s this time to go get some food. I know how much you like the place.”
Yeah, the fucker probably knew all about what Tommy liked. Maybe even long before they met.
“Sounds good, big man, I just have to—” The blonde paused, purposefully making a show of peering past Wilbur’s shoulder. However, the shakiness of his breathing and the return of his trembling hands was very much real. All the emotions he was trying to hide rose to the surface like a tidal wave. There was no need to conceal his horror now, not when Wilbur wouldn’t suspect anything.
The brunette frowned, his lips twisting into something worried and fake before he turned around to the doors.
Wilbur made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, one that would’ve sounded so real if Tommy hadn’t seen him planting the photo there in the first place. The older man turned around, a worried look plastered all over his face as he reached forward to grab the blonde’s hand in an unbearably gentle grip. Rubbing his thumb over Tommy's knuckles in soothing circles.
“Oh, Tommy, don’t look at it, okay? Let’s just get you home and out of here.” The brunette says, pulling away so he could go over to the photo and toss it into one of the bins. Just like he usually did. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Wilbur reached one of his hands out like he was expecting Tommy to grab it, an action that wasn’t odd considering the boy usually did hold the man’s hand as he led him to the car. But this time, Tommy didn’t reach back. He couldn’t bring himself to as he rounded the counter.
“Just give me a minute, okay?” The blonde tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. “Could you get the heater going? I just need to grab something real quick.”
The brunette frowned, and for a horrifying second, Tommy thought he was caught.
“Alright.” Wilbur dropped his hand. “Don’t take too long. I don’t want McPuffy’s to close before we get there.”
“Don’t worry about it, big man.” Tommy waved it off, tense as he watched the older man turn on his heel and push one of the cafe doors open. The blonde could barely move, his hands shaking so much that when he pulled out the keys, he was almost sure Wilbur could hear them jingle.
Thankfully, the brunette didn’t hear him, and Tommy lurched forward as soon as the door closed behind him. His breath hitched as he grabbed the handle, jerking it tight so he could slot his key in and lock it. Barely enough time spared before Wilbur whirled around, eyes wide in shocked surprise and mouth parting just a little bit.
The brunette tugged on the outside handle, his brows furrowing when it refused to give, and Tommy took a fearful step back when the man pressed his other hand against the door’s glass. Looming forward and casting a horribly long shadow from the streetlight behind him.
“Tommy, what are you doing?” Wilbur exclaimed, confusion clouding his features while the blonde brought his hands up against his chest, gripping his keys as though they were a lifeline.
“I saw you.” Tommy whispered, and it took the brunette a minute to catch on, but the boy could see it the second realization struck him.
Wilbur tensed up, the hand pressing against the glass curled into a fist, and that worried, confused look in his eyes quickly switched into something desperate and hungry. A look that Tommy had never seen on the man’s face before. It was like his eyes glowed with it and the hand gripping the handle jerked again, as though the door would suddenly give. The sound still made Tommy flinch back in fear.
“Listen, Tommy.” Wilbur spoke, his tone almost pleading. “It isn’t like that, I swear! I—”
“You’re the one that’s been doing this.” The blonde muttered, though his voice quickly raised into something flighty and panicked. A high pitched keen as he sunk to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. “You’re—you’ve been fucking stalking me and you’ve been doing all of this! What is—what is wrong with you?!”
Tommy’s breath hitched, and it hurt to breathe. He couldn’t even form the words to express how fucked up this was. He could barely even ask how long Wilbur had been watching him for. The mere idea of finding out almost made him want to vomit. The hairs along his arms standing as goosebumps crawled down his skin.
“How long have you been watching me?!” The blonde choked out, the words more of a pathetic wheeze as he tried to take a deep breath. Anything to stop the burning in his chest.
“Tommy—Tommy, please breathe. Please let me in.” Wilbur practically begged, but the boy merely shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “I’m not going to hurt you, I promise. Please, just let me in. You’re having a panic attack.”
“I wonder fucking why!” Tommy screeched, the grip on his keys so tight he could almost break through the skin of his palms. “You fucking—you’ve been fucking watching me and—and leaving me shit and I don’t understand! Everything was fine, and we were friends and—please just leave me alone,” The blonde sobbed, tears spilling down his face as he gasped and wheezed. “Please leave me alone.”
“No, no, no, sunshine, please breathe. I swear it isn’t like that!” The brunette sank down onto his haunches, releasing his grip on the handle and pressing both of his hands against the glass, leaning his forehead against it. His eyes were still wide, scared, and desperate.
“Please, just let me explain. Please. I just wanted to help you, I promise! You were always working too much and then you ran away from foster care! You moved into a shithole apartment and I had to help! I just wanted to take care of you!” He rambled on, completely oblivious to the way Tommy froze. “You deserve so much better, Toms. I can take care of you, you’d want for nothing, you’re my brother. Please—please just let me in, let me help you.”
“I ran from foster care a year ago.”
Wilbur twitched before he curled in on himself, his hands dragging down the glass. He looked far more frazzled than he was just minutes prior, as though just this conversation was physically dragging him down.
Yet, Tommy couldn’t bring himself to focus on that. Instead, he wracked his brain as he tried to figure out where he could’ve met Wilbur last year. Surely he would’ve remembered seeing the man? Talking to him? But his mind came up blank and as he wheezed his short breaths, all he could do was stare.
“Please, just come with me. Let me help you.” The brunette pleaded, his eyes glossy and brimming with tears that had yet to fall. “We can—we can go home and pretend this never happened! And you’ll never have to worry about rent or food or anything! I know I… I know I scared you, but I just wanted you to come home!”
“You’re fucking insane.” Tommy whispered. It felt like he was staring at a car crash, a horrible and terrifying thing, but he couldn’t look away. “I don’t even remember meeting you a year ago. I—”
The blonde choked on the words, finally able to breathe somewhat normally. His chest still ached and burned, but it wasn’t terrible and maybe the feeling was coming from the absolute betrayal instead of his short wheezes.
This was not the Wilbur he knew.
Or, more accurately, this is not the Wilbur he was shown.
Tommy scooted back, using his legs to push himself across the ground. He couldn’t force himself to get up, his limbs feeling like jelly, but he needed to get away. To call the fucking police so they could chase Wilbur off or—or arrest him. Just something so he could go home and pray that this was all a horrible nightmare instead of reality.
“No, no, no, Tommy, wait.” Wilbur begged, his hand slapping on the door once. The sound made the blonde flinch. “Please don’t go, please. I’m sorry but I had to! You wouldn’t let me help! Please don’t leave, Tommy!”
The boy finally kicked himself up, stumbling onto his feet as he backed further and further away from the front door. Wilbur stood up in turn, leaning against the doors so heavily that almost his entire weight was put on it. His breath fogged the glass and his hands clenched, nails pressing into the doors like he could claw them open.
Tommy struggled to fish his phone out of his pocket, having to tune out the brunette’s pleading and begging. Wilbur had even started tugging on the handles like he could force his way in, but the lock held strong and eventually the man gave up. He pressed his forehead into the glass again, whimpering excuses and poor justifications. The blonde merely ignored him, his hands shaking so much that he was surprised he didn’t drop his phone once he pulled it out.
“Tommy, Tommy don’t—” Wilbur called out, but it was too late.
The phone was already dialing.
By the time Tommy got back to his apartment, after a particularly awkward police car ride, the blonde wanted nothing more than to collapse in his bed and pretend all of this was just a horrible nightmare.
The blonde didn’t have the guts to tell the police that Wilbur was the one stalking him. It still didn’t feel real. And it wasn’t like they would fucking help him, anyway. Sure, they gave him a ride home, but after that it was just the same dribble they always told him. About how they couldn’t do anything until his stalker—Wilbur—actually did something that was against the law. It was utter bullshit, if you were to ask him.
Maybe they could’ve done something now that Tommy knew who it was, but… he was a coward. Even after all the shit Wilbur put him through with this—this stupid fucking game he was playing, the blonde just couldn’t find it in himself to out the man.
He was an idiot, he knew, but Tommy never claimed to be particularly smart, and maybe the brunette would back off after this. Maybe now that his identity was revealed, he’d stay away so he wouldn’t risk getting arrested.
Tommy didn’t know why that thought made his chest ache. It was a good thing.
While pushing his key into his apartment’s front door and turning it open, the blonde shook his head. It was better this way. His life could go back to normal, and maybe he could even take more hours at the cafe now that he didn’t have to worry about Wilbur nagging him.
“Stop being stupid.” Tommy whispered to himself, slamming the door shut behind him and dropping his ragged bag next to it.
His apartment was still shit, as usual. The grossly stained walls that wouldn’t come clean no matter how much he scrubbed it. The kitchen with the light that never fucking worked and always led to him having to turn on the living room light so he could see. The ugly gray couch that he pawned off a moving neighbor and a shitty coffee table were the only furniture he actually owned. It was almost completely barren. Void of any personal touch. Hell, he didn’t even have plants.
None of it was pretty and if the blonde ever had guests, as unlikely as it was, they’d probably be cringing at the state of things.
Even his bedroom was gross looking. Sure, Tommy cleaned it as much as possible so it didn’t smell bad, but it certainly wasn’t luxury living, that was for sure. It was nothing compared to living on the streets though, nor any foster home.
This was entirely his, and Tommy would like to keep it that way.
Scrubbing his face aggressively, the blonde made his way towards his bedroom. He needed a fucking nap and the comfort of Henry. This day was just too much for him to handle right now.
Tommy pushed open the door, not even bothering to turn on the lights. It was a waste of electricity when he’d just be going to sleep, anyway.
The blonde tilts forward awkwardly, dragging his feet across the old carpet with a shaky yawn. He should probably brush his teeth and take a shower, but exhaustion weighs him down and the mere thought of putting off his rest has his muscles twitching in protest.
He’s barely halfway to his bed when he hears it.
The subtle creek of the floorboards under the carpet. A sound that Tommy had long grown accustomed to after living in this dingy apartment for so long.
At first, he thought it was because of where he stepped, but that thought was quickly thrown out the window when the boy paused and another creak echoed throughout the room.
Tommy’s breath hitched, but he didn’t even have time to turn his head before a lean but muscular arm wrapped around his torso and a damp cloth slammed against his mouth. It rattled his teeth and made his nose ache, the grip so tight against his face that Tommy couldn’t pry the hand off. He tried to claw at skin, kick his legs violently, and maybe even scream through the cloth. Anything to deter his attacker, but his nails only slid against silky fabric. Unable to dig into anything. And the cloth was too thick for his yelling to be heard. Even when he managed to hit the stranger, all they did was make a little grunt.
The damp liquid on the cloth was sweet smelling and no matter how much the boy tried to hold his breath, he couldn’t keep it up for long with all of his struggling. His chest ached and burned, and eventually he couldn’t stop the deep inhale.
Almost immediately, he was hit with a sense of dizziness. His vision, as limited as it was in the dark, swam and his limbs felt horribly heavy. It was similar to what he imagined being drunk was like, just much more scary and awful.
Tommy’s heart thundered in his chest, and he couldn’t stop the terrified whimper from spilling out of his mouth.
“Sh, shh,” A familiar voice crooned close to the blonde’s ear. The ghost of their breath tickling the side of his face. “It’s alright, Toms. Just breathe. Everything will be okay. You just gotta breathe for me, sunshine.”
Tommy still tried to pry the hand away from his face. Gripping his attacker’s wrist as tightly as he could. But his strength was failing and the longer he was forced to smell the sweet cloth, the weaker he became, until eventually his arms and legs went limp.
His body gave out from under him. The only thing keeping him upright was the arm around his waist. The sweet smelling cloth was finally gone, no longer smothering the boy, and Tommy could finally feel himself breathe normally.
But, yet he still couldn’t move and his head still spun. Not even his vision cleared; instead, it seemed to deteriorate even more.
“There you are,” The familiar voice cooed again. “That’s it, just let go for a bit. We’ll be home soon.”
The blonde could feel himself being hefted up into someone’s arms. His body shifted around and jostled until his head rested in the crook of their neck. Everything was blurry and far away, black spots dancing in his vision, and he could just make out the face of the person holding him.
They were looking down at him from the corner of their eye. Curly brown hair falling over their face and wide, golden-frame circular glasses sat on the bridge of their nose. All of it was familiar, too familiar, and Tommy whimpered when the pieces finally clicked together in his muddled brain.
Wilbur.
Tommy tries to struggle, to put up at least a bit of a fight. But all he manages to do is twitch his fingers and scrunch his face up with another keening whine. Whatever drug bullshit that Wilbur made him inhale kept the blonde limp and drowsy. Desperately trying to fight off unconsciousness.
“I know, I know.” The brunette whispers, turning slowly on his heel and stepping out of Tommy’s bedroom. His movements are sure and careful, quick but slow enough that the blonde doesn’t feel even more sick. “You’re all scared right now, but this is for the better. You’ll see.”
The boy tries to speak, tries to do anything besides whimpering pathetically as Wilbur carries him closer to his apartment door, tucking Tommy’s face deeper into the crook of his neck.
“Don’t you want to sleep for a bit, sunshine?” The brunette croons, his nose nuzzling into Tommy’s blonde curls, and the boy can feel the vibrations from Wilbur’s throat. “We should be home when you wake up, so rest for a while. Okay?”
Tommy doesn’t get the chance to make another sound before the sweet smelling cloth was pressed against his face again.
He tries to cry out, to make some kind of noise, but the black spots overpowered him quickly and he was out before he even realized it.