"WHAT THE FUCK!?"

Tommy's social worker, the poor, frail woman whose eyes drooped sighed again as she marked off another paper from the pile on her desk, her slightly-chewed pink pencil scratching against the cheap plastic tabletop.

"Tommy, watch your language please." Her voice came out strained and tired, obviously aching to get out of the poorly air-conditioned corner office to go home. "We are not hoodlums here."

"Why are they kicking me out?" Tommy's voice was filled with rage. "I didn't even do anything!"

"Tommy, you know very well what you did." She rubbed the bridge of her nose, remembering with head-splitting pain the various pranks, pins on the bottoms of seats, and bloody noses. That one was a lot of paperwork. "Mr. and Mrs. Thompson are a very nice couple, but their patience can only stretch so far."

"Their son was a prick though," Tommy muttered, crossing his arms as he settled back in the hard sticky linoleum seat, resting his exposed leg against the cold metal.

Vivid memories of his head being shoved down the cold, cracked porcelain toilet flashed through his mind, the cloudy water being pushed up his nose. He would never complain about anything stinking again. He had punched the kid flat in the nose before he could even touch Tubbo, though. That got him in deep trouble, the kid's parents rushing to coo and coddle their poor baby.

"Good riddance, then," Tommy grunted. "I never have to see that bastard again."

The social worker let out another deep sigh. "Tommy, you can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" Tommy picked at a scab on his knee, ready to get out of there.

"Bouncing from foster home to foster home. Somehow managing to get rejected by every foster home in the city." She shuffled through her papers tiredly, checking off boxes. "For goodness sakes, you're 13 and you've moved more times than I have!"

She peered at him through her duck-taped owl glasses. "I hate to say this, Tommy, but you're a problem child. Why can't you trust an adult, just one?"

Tommy shifted uncomfortably in his chair, rubbing his arm in shame.

He wanted to be able to fit in, he really did. But something in him rebelled and made him push away people. But then he would push them away and then play pranks to get the attention he desperately wanted. He didn't know anymore.

He didn't remember having parents. He'd been bouncing around all his life. He wasn't even sure if he had parents in the first place. Sometimes he told stories to other kids about him being a son of a powerful god or some mystical creature from the various comic books he would find lying around to scare them. But the truth was, he hadn't come from anywhere.

The only shred of evidence he got from where he came from was a ragged, cheap moth plushie that they said was clutched to his chest when a random passerby saw him swinging on a swingset.

Alone.

Fuck his real parents. Fuck any adults, really. All Tommy was hostile to any adults after that. Adults must be really fucked up if they could just leave a child swinging on his own like that.

"Look, Tommy," The social worker straightened her papers, tucking them into a folder. "We have a couple of available options left, but they only have enough room for one more child."

"For the last fucking time," Tommy snarled with hostility. "I'm not leaving Tubbo."

He glanced through the doorway at the sleeping form of a little boy, ragged green shirt almost swallowing him whole as he snored, clutching the scuffed drawstring bag full of their belongings to his chest.

He remembered when he met Tubbo.

He remembered a hard concrete building. Tubbo was quiet. He'd always been quiet. And because of that, he had become a favored punching bag of older boys in one of the orphanages Tommy had been thrown into. They would punch him and punch him, but he wouldn't scream. He couldn't.

Luckily, Tommy came to his rescue for reasons he still didn't remember why. Maybe there was still a shred of selflessness in him back then. The boys stumbled away from there with broken noses and black eyes, earning Tommy a week in a room the staff of the orphanage called "Time-Out."

Tommy remembered Tubbo's wide eyes as he quickly rushed up to another kid, socking him in the stomach.

And so Tubbo went into "Time-Out" too.

And that night, when Tommy crawled into a hard and rusty metal bed frame, Tubbo climbed in after him. At first, Tommy had pushed him off, telling him to sleep on the ground, but Tubbo's wide brown eyes got the best of him, and he let him climb in after him.

It evolved from using the other for warmth to Tommy's reason for living.

He was protecting Tubbo, but it felt more like Tubbo was protecting him. It was giving him a sense of purpose.

Eventually, Tommy gave his moth for Tubbo to sleep with because he liked bugs, and learned how to decipher what he was saying with only his eyes.

And slowly, like a flower beginning to bloom, Tubbo opened up. He talked little, in a quiet whisper, but once he got going he could talk a lot.

Tubbo, like him, couldn't remember his parents. He could only remember a cardboard box and smashed bottles and a small slip of paper with his name.

Words blurred together on pages, but oh, Tubbo loved math. Tommy would continuously call him a nerd, but they both knew Tubbo's math helped them. Tommy would swindle, and Tubbo would add up the numbers. They finally saved up for a small second-hand iPod to listen to music on.

It was the happiest day of their lives. Tommy remembered staying awake with Tubbo, listening to tunes until one of the caretakers threatened to smash the little thing if they didn't sleep. Tommy fell asleep that night with a starchy pillow beneath him as beats bounced in his head.

"Tommy, don't you think it's time to let him go off on his own?" Her voice was soft, trying to ease the touchy subject. "Maybe he'd be more independent-"

Tommy slammed his fist against the desk, making her flinch a little. "I'm not leaving Tubbo. That's final."

"I-" She saw in his eyes that same unmovable stubbornness that had gotten him into so much trouble, and she knew he wouldn't budge. She checked the clock. It was 30 minutes past when she was supposed to get out. She sighed even deeper. "Fine then."

"Our only option left is to send you back to the orphanage until we can find someone who will take two kids." She signed off a paper nonchalantly. "But just remember, one more incident involving violence, they might send you to a juvenile detention center or worse. They won't make room or excuses for you to bring your little friend there."

Tommy gulped, a pit of dread in his stomach forming as he thought of the old concrete building.

Scars and bruises still littered him even though he was only there two days.

Was he really ready for this?

And then he glanced over at Tubbo tossing and turning, and his mind decided instantly. He was ready for this. He had to do this. For Tubbo.

And also for himself. Because honestly, he couldn't imagine a life without Tubbo. Life without Tubbo would be hell.

"Let's go then."

---

Tubbo's hand was clenched in Tommy's as they stared up at the giant concrete building, breath swirling in the air in front of them.

It was snowing. Snowflakes swirled in the night sky.

Flurries of white dotted in Tubbo's moppy brown hair, Tommy's red sweatshirt zipped up around him for warmth. Tommy ruffled the white out of his hair as Tubbo stared up at him, tilting his head in the language only the two of them could speak. Worry and panic pierced from Tubbo's eyes.

"Don't worry, Tubs." Tommy shifted the backpack on his shoulder. "I'll protect you. Those bastards know better than to mess with me."

But Tubbo's hand still inched its way into Tommy's again, clenching it tightly. Tommy grinned, rolling his eyes, but he squeezed back anyway. "C'mon, clingy bitch. We're gonna get cold."

They stepped up to the door, ringing the rough, buzzing doorbell that rattled like a skeleton.

The orphanage wasn't like a tall, scary church that Tommy had seen in his comic books. It didn't have any gargoyles or scary lightning that struck ominously. It was a box. A large, cold, hard concrete box, with dirty, uniform windows. It was like a cage.

A surly old man, navy blue shirt hardly tucked over his huge potbelly, opened the door. Tommy pretended not to see his annoyed gaze as he saw the young boy. He let out a grunt of disappointment as he pushed Tommy into the building, Tubbo clinging to his side.

They came across a familiar crossroads, two doors into two big rooms. The flickering old white lights glowed bluer now, casting a stillness across the speckled tile floor, scuffed with mud and dirt from various shoes and spills. The man scratched his balding head as he looked at a clipboard in silence, Tommy scratching his arm as he stood nervously.

Suddenly, the man opened the door, grunting as he motioned his head for Tommy to go in. The chatter of overlapping voices could be heard inside. Tommy stepped towards it, still holding onto Tubbo's hand, but the man stopped him.

"Just you," The man barked. "12 in one room, 13 in another."

Tommy stepped back, crossing his arms. "Wherever he goes, I go."

"Kid, if you don't comply, we'll have to make you ourselves." The man's voice drawled, not looking up from his clipboard.

Tommy's eyes went from crystal clear to stormy like they did when he was angry. "Try me."

The man looked up slightly before rolling his eyes, muttering under his breath. "I don't get paid enough for this."

"Fine." Rough hands jostled them into the doorway, the weighted wooden door slamming behind them. All eyes turned to them as the chatter stopped, the air being sucked from the room.

Tommy kept his hostile stare, daring anyone to get near to him as he moved through the room, keeping Tubbo close to him.

The room was littered with cheap plastic-covered mattresses shoved into corners and stacked metal bed-frames, kids swinging like monkeys and shoes lined up near edges of beds. Eyes poked into his back, some with fear, some with curiosity, some with flat-out anger.

Tommy let his feet lead him over to an empty bed next to a familiar boy named Jack, who nodded at him before continuing to read a dog-eared yellowed book. Jack wasn't exactly a friend, but he was friendly. No one ever came for him, although he claimed that he still had parents out there somewhere that were coming for him. Poor bloke. Tommy thought he was delusional.

Tubbo sat down gingerly on the mismatched quilt, sinking down into the deflated air mattress. Tommy sat down next to him, patting his arm.

"So you're back then, huh?" A tall, lanky brown-haired boy finally spoke up, a tooth crooked. Ah, yes. Tommy's fist remembered that tooth well. "They didn't want you again?"

Tommy didn't answer, taking his shoes off slowly and methodically.

"Ya gonna answer me?"

One shoe off, time to untie the other one.

"Oh, and you dragged that stupid kid with you."

Tommy paused, his blood boiling. "What the fuck did you say?"

"He can't even fucking speak!" Tommy watched him come closer from the corner of his eye. The rest of the boys in the room seemed to hold their breath, waiting for a slight move.

"Can you speak?" The boy stopped in front of Tubbo, waving his hands in front of his face. "Hello? Can you hear me? Anything left in that stupid head?"

And before Tommy could react, suddenly the boy had gotten a tight hold of Tubbo's ears, pulling him off the bed. The boy laughed as Tubbo tried to get away, holding his ears as he let out silent screams. "Can you hear me now?"

"LET GO OF HIM!"

Tommy charged forward, but two boys grabbed his arms, stopping him. He recognized them from previous encounters.

Tommy caught a glimpse of Tubbo's face in pain, tears starting to prick the corners of his eyes, and his vision filled with red.

And then all hell broke loose.

Tommy's fists collided with both of the boy's faces, earning screams of shock from the other kids. He rushed forward, pummeling the brown-haired boy over and over, Tubbo escaping from his grasp.

And he didn't stop. Punches and punches as the beast inside of him broke loose, until he felt a soft tug on his arm.

Tubbo was there, clutching their bag to his chest in fright, panic apparent. Tommy looked around. The other kids were frozen as the 3 boys groaned on the ground, holding their heads. Tommy's eyes widened.

One last incident.

"Fuck."

Tommy looked around desperately, bringing Tubbo closer to him.

Fuck.

Why hadn't he gotten his emotions under control? Why hadn't he just let it go?

He looked at Tubbo's red ears and shaking arms.

He wasn't going to leave him, not today.

Boots clacked against the tile floors outside.

He made his decision.

He shoved his feet into his beaten-up white and black sneakers, almost brown from the dust. The heels crumpled under his socks. Tubbo's eyes met his, communicating silently.

He looked at Jack, who gestured quietly towards the window, emotionless.

Tommy's heart raced.

Fuck it.

Kids were frozen around him as he cranked open the window, letting the cold air and snow flurries drift into the stale room. The window creaked, Tommy's hand brushing away cobwebs.

It was a 1 story drop into the cold, fresh snow. It piled up in a green garbage disposal, the label scratched off.

Tommy's bare arms itched in the freezing cold as the wind lapped at his face. He turned back at Tubbo, whose heart pounded loudly next to his, their bag closed to his chest. He nodded at him.

"Tuck and roll, Tubs. Tuck and roll."

And with Tubbo's hand in Tommy's, the two best friends jumped into oblivion.

They hit the cold snow, Tommy gasping as bare skin was submerged in ice flecks, the shock of the impact running through his bones. The smell of rotten bananas hit his nose as they coughed, falling out onto the cracked sidewalk.

Yells chased them as they ran off into the cold, snowy night.

---

Hey guys! Uhmmmm so explanation: this is sorta a shitpost written from 1 am to 6 am each morning, so don't expect actual quality writing, expect trash attempts at fluff to soothe my hollow heart XD. 
Chapter will release every day so I feel productive, and also because I haven't completely finished all of it yet and I wanted to get at least a chapter out on Christmas. 

Merry Christmas!