"Are you listening?" A voice asked. The voice was said quietly, and the person speaking the voice looked sweet, but Tommy was agitated with her all the same. It wasn't the person he disliked, it was the position. She was his new social worker, taking up the mantle since his last one was several towns to the east from the station he was sitting in.

The honest answer would be kind of. Tommy heard all of what the woman said, but only comprehended half of the words spoken. His brain didn't want to put a definition to what the woman said. His brain didn't want to listen to her so it refused to work. Since Tommy didn't want to explain, he nodded reluctantly.

The woman seemed odd. She pursed her lips before settling down to get comfortable in her seat. "I know this is hard. A lot of things must have happened tonight. However, I really need you to focus. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get you into a home."

Tommy scowled. Home. What a stupid word. Tommy didn't hate whoever made the word, he hated whoever decided that word meant something special. The first guy who said it probably wanted a synonym for living space. Some hippie decided to give the word sentimental value. A home didn't exist. Not for Tommy, or the thousands of other people stuck in the foster system.

"Tommy?" The woman was wincing. He had no clue why. Was her mask of happiness falling or did she realize that acting good to Tommy wasn't getting her anywhere in life. The woman frowned now. "I want to help, Tommy. I'll stay here all night with you, okay? Everything is going to be fine."

Nothing would be fine. But she was acting civil. Tommy decided that he didn't want to piss her off. A few more hours of being around a caring adult could give him the mental capacity to deal with whoever came next. "I'm sorry for stealing the snacks. I'll work it off or whatever they want me to do."

The woman laughed, but she seemed upset at something. "The shop owner said that he's fine as long as you aren't stealing again. He forgives you. You were just hungry. While stealing isn't okay, an exception was made by the police since the shop owner isn't pressing charges." She smiled at that. "But, you are in custody right now as a runaway. Since your last foster home was deemed unfit, I was called to work with you."

Tommy wasn't sure what she meant. As if on queue, the woman explained. "I used to be a social worker, but I transferred into therapy when I moved to a town named L'Manberg. The police called me to handle your... unique case."

If that wasn't a word Tommy heard a million times. It was the nicest way to put his situation and mindset. He was a teenager, looked to be 14 but actually 16, who had ran away from several foster homes and orphanages. Some he went to were violent, neglectful, or unfit for children in some way. Not all were horrible, however, but it was actually worse when they weren't. When the people cared about him, it stung a whole lot worse when they returned him with half hearted excuses and pitying eyes. Tommy would rather get beaten half to death than experience another loving family that would reject him of their own violation.

The woman frowned deeper, "Tommy, I haven't dealt with a case quite like yours, but I know someone who has experience in this field. He's a lovely man with two sons that I'm sure will take you in."

Two sons? Wasn't that worse for him, then. That was two bullies that had the physical strength of males. Hopefully, neither were as conniving as their female counterparts. Tommy hated daughters, mainly because they were more emotional in their attacking. Boys usually just punched it out with basic insults. Girls gave smirks while building you up to tear you down brick by brick.

"He's sons are amazing! They're very welcoming and friendly. They're twins, too. The eldest is good at farm-work, fencing, and an avid reader. The younger twin is artistic and an aspiring musician," She explained quickly like she was defending the two strangers even though Tommy hadn't said a bad thing about them.

Was it worse now? If this guy's sons were so accomplished, how could Tommy live up to that? Would the guy expect him to? What if Tommy wasn't good enough? Okay, that was a stupid question. Tommy would never be good enough for these families.

"The guy- my friend, Phil- is just as awesome. He's kind and caring. His sons are adopted so he's familiar with the system," She added with a tired smile. Was he tiring her out? That couldn't be it. He'd barely said two words, but she kept explaining things to him. That was her fault, not his.

"It'll be difficult to adjust, but L'Manberg is a good place to live. The community is like a family. We all look out for one another. You'll be-" an intruder, Tommy thought warily. "-a welcome addition. It won't take you long to see that this is more than a fresh start, it's a chance to be happy."

There was another word Tommy hated. Happiness existed, yes, but it was fleeting. Happiness made things better, but like a drug, when it was gone, it hurt badly. Everyone made happiness out to be the good guy. While sadness and anger weren't amazing, at least they weren't two faced like happiness was.

"How about you get some sleep? We can sign the paperwork and send you out tomorrow morning," She said, standing up. Tommy sunk down on the metal bench. Not the most uncomfortable place he's ever slept he'd admit as the woman closed the door.

———

"Phil, it's bad," Cara Puffy said into her phone with a disheartening sigh.

"Sounds like it. You really think I can do something for this kid?" Philza, or Phil for short, Minecraft responded over the phone. Cara could hear a TV in the background with the occasional voice of Wilbur or Techno, Philza's adopted fraternal twin sons.

"If anyone can, it'd be you. He needs consistency and structure. Otherwise, he gets scared and anxious. Don't compare him to Wilbur and Techno, especially if the twins are clearly better. Try to be as genuine as possible. Be nice, of course, but don't be extra about it. Be honest but not brutally," Cara explained what she had gathered from his actions and words. "Don't be fake, basically. He'll run away, I'm sure of it, but don't get mad at him for it."

"Understood. What about everyone's gifts? How are we supposed to hide that?" Philza answered. "You know that if he doesn't show signs of having an ability, we'll need to send him back."

"I know. We'll try our best. Remind your sons. Hopefully, he shows signs of a gift," Cara said with a quiet voice. Even quieter she whispered, "We'll only hurt him in the end if he doesn't."

—
"How about you tell me about yourself? Since I'm the therapist for the school, I'll be in charge of your schedule. You'll take a placement exam to see if you should have extra help or are in an advanced class. After that, however, you need to choose a math, English, and science subject to take. One elective this year. You have a history, but it depends on your level. World history is for the advanced students, and state history is for those who need help," The woman explained in detail. Tommy shuddered at the thought of school. Those were nightmares conjured in the mind of an emotionless psychopath.

"It won't be that bad, I swear. You'll start whenever you get adjusted. I'll be there if you need help," She commented. Tommy wondered if his face gave away how much he was hating this experience. He used to be loud, obnoxious, highly opinionated, and sometimes rude. Now he was almost mute, apathetic, and extremely rude in his thoughts. "Any interests?"

Did Tommy have interests? He took a piano class when he was younger, and while he enjoyed playing, he never did to spite the people who forced him. He liked making things. He read a book on metal work once, and it captivated his young mind. He interned under a blacksmith for a middle school program, which was fun.

Tommy looked at the woman- he really needed to call her by her name- trying to say what he liked. The words died on his tongue. He took a deep breath, eyes closing and opening slowly. "I like making... stuff."

"Like wood-shop? We have one of those classes. It could be your elective!" She seemed happy. His traitorous heart wondered if she was happy because he spoke, that he was opening up a little. He abandoned that hope as soon as it was formed. Of course not. She didn't care.

"Yeah, like that," Tommy deflated as he spoke. Was it always so hard to talk to people? No. It was hard to speak to kind people. They were puzzles. He didn't like people who were all one way. He didn't like not knowing what they knew. He didn't like dishonest people. He hated dishonest people. Tommy would rather someone show their true colors than pretend they cared.

"We're getting somewhere! How about a science? We have 4 of the major physical sciences: physics, chemistry, geology, and geography. The AP classes have astronomy and meteorology," She counted off on her hand, taking one off the steering wheel. Tommy internally panicked, eyes growing wide as he snapped up from leaning against the window. He didn't like how she had only hand. He felt like she would lose control. Just like-

She quickly grabbed the steering wheel. It was like she knew that's what he wanted. Tommy inwardly sighed in relief. With that out of the way, Tommy thought about his options. "Chemistry, I guess."

He actually liked chemistry. It was similar to math in some ways. It reminded Tommy of potions. He would call chemists 'alchemists' for awhile. He used to joke about making drugs when he would referred to chemistry as a child.

The woman chuckled at something Tommy didn't understand. "Now, a math. Pre-algebra, pre-calculus, geometry, and statistics."

None of those sounded fun. But, since he was a builder in a former life, he asked to take geometry. It was basically shapes, Tommy tried to simplify to make the class less daunting.

"And an English subject! We have Server literature, creative writing, debate, journalism, and poetry," She said as they pulled up to a red light. It was early, as seen by the dark sky illuminated by the early morning sun. There wasn't many cars that passed by, and they were the only one at the four way. Still, she stopped at the red light, eyes peeked over at him. Half her face was illuminated in red, turning her albino hair into a shade of pink.

"Debate," He replied without any thought. He hadn't argued with the woman yet, but Tommy was an argumentative and aggressive child. He had taken debate before. The only class his teachers complimented in. He didn't call his opponents mean names to fill time, either. He genuinely took shit from his ass and spun it into fairy dust.

"That was quick," She said but didn't argue with him on the decision. She turned back to the road when her face was illuminated in a green color. She pulled her truck forwards, accelerating as they passed signs that said L'Manberg was up ahead. "That'd be all your classes this year. You'll have a study hall and lunch periods. You can either take wood shop or a physical education class."

"I'll stick with wood shop," Tommy muttered loud enough for her to hear. She smiled at him, a real, big smile that made Tommy uncomfortable. What did this woman want from him?

"Oh!" She said, leaning to her bag that was in the backseat. Tommy felt his breath quicken as his eyes searched the road ahead. The truck jostled to one side, and Tommy felt the urge to scream inside his throat as he saw a car approaching in the opposite lane.

In his head, a song began to play. It was low, slightly scratchy with an underlying base rhythm. It haunted his thoughts, sounding like a ghost or something a horror movie would play. There was a whole note of a note that would switch to a different note that continued to play. It sounded like a guitar was thrown into the song.

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, the song was gone. The car in the opposite lane had started slowing down, smoke coming up from the engine. The car pulled over to the side of the road just as the woman paid attention to the road again. It looked like she hadn't seen. She didn't seem affected, she hadn't heard the song.

She gave him a phone. It was silver and without a case. It looked new. Tommy didn't remember the last time he had something new. "We decided that you should get one! It's already set up, though you'll need to personalize. I have my number, Philza's number, and Philza's kid's numbers in there. If there's an emergency, call one of us."

Tommy nodded. He tapped the button, and the phone came to life. There wasn't a background picture, just colored blobs floating around. He opened the phone that didn't have a lock to see the basic apps. The phone knew his name but nothing else about him.

As Tommy stared at the emptiness of the screen, the woman pulled into a driveway. Up ahead, a two story house sat with a yellow paint job and a white painted porch. The front yard was cleanly cut grass, nothing else. On the porch, a man with dirty blonde hair wearing a green robe and green and white bucket hat sat with his eyes half closed. He stood up when he noticed the truck.

The woman got out first, waving at Tommy to follow. He reluctantly opened the door, pulling his backpack of stuff from the backseat as he slid the phone into his back pocket. Tommy stretched his legs, red blotches running across his skin from where his legs rubbed against the leather seat. While fall was approaching, it was warm enough for Tommy's cargo shorts.

"Tommy!" The woman called him over to the porch where she leaned against the railing across from the green man. Tommy closed the truck door, walking up the porch stairs. The man looked at Tommy with peaceful blue eyes, the calm waters that wade in and out like the tide. Nothing like Tommy's eye of the hurricane blue. "This is Philza Minecraft. People usually call him Phil, his sons call him Dadza."

"Hi, Phil," Tommy gave a small wave. Philza hummed in response. That was new, Tommy thought. While Philza and the woman talked, Tommy realized that the robe was green jinbei. Tommy realized the man was a weeb. Tommy snorted, that was so weird.

The woman smiled at Tommy. Maybe she wanted to encourage his happy mood, but it didn't help him feel more comfortable. She finished talking with Philza before waving goodbye. Tommy wanted to bolt after her, wanted to say that he wasn't ready.

Instead, the man placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder. "Let's go inside, kiddo."

—

He was a weird child, Philza decided. He seemed so invested with everything around him, eyes flickering from one place to another with a slight edge of fear or hopelessness. His eyes, a sharp but darker blue than Philza's, would scan the entire room before he fully walked in. If Philza didn't know any better, he'd say the two were exploring a haunted house.

"Your room is upstairs. It's the last one down the hallway. We don't have any decorations up since we didn't know what you would like," Philza said, deciding that seeing the living room and kitchen was enough of the first floor if the kid was this anxious.

Philza led him up the stairs. Philza felt his back shiver, something itching beneath his jinbei. Tommy didn't make a comment on it as they went up the stairs.

Starting from where they were, the rooms went Philza, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy's new room. There was a closet and bathroom on the opposite wall of Wilbur and Tommy. Philza and Techno had the privilege of overlooking the living room across a railing. Philza explained the rooms to Tommy who seemed to make note of who was where.

"We could go to the store Saturday to get you some things. Maybe a coat of paint or posters?" Philza winced at the bareness of the room. Plain walls, a window without curtains, a bed with a red comforter and white sheets. It wasn't special or personalized. It was the default setting.

"It's fine," Tommy replied, dropping his bag at the end of the bed before flopping onto the surface, bouncing with the springs. Tommy sunk into the bed, and Philza had the urge to tuck him, like he did for his children when they were little. He decided against it since Tommy was new and wasn't a child.

"We'll have dinner later. You can come down if you want to. I won't force you, though. Just don't sneak food, okay?" Philza warned half heartedly. He wouldn't care if Tommy did- it was the kid's instincts- but he would rather not have to deal with a hoarder.

"M'kay," Tommy hummed his response, bringing his knees to his chest while wrapping his arms around them.

"My sons will be home later. Techno is at kendo. Wilbur is hanging out with his friends," Philza explained. "They might drop by to say hello, but unless you try to conversate, they won't force you."

Tommy nodded. He seemed tired, but his eyes were wide awake, searching the area around him like monsters lurked around the corners and in shadows. Philza wondered if Tommy would always feel so anxious. "I work at the high school, you might end up in my class. I have a night job, however, but that's 1 to 3 am, so you'll be asleep."

"What's your night job?" Tommy asked quietly, hesitantly, almost desperately. Philza had the sinking feeling that Tommy knew something- anything- about him and his life that he shouldn't know. That was absurd since Philza didn't have many secrets. Philza shook his head. That would be for another day.

"Neighborhood watch," Philza replied. Tommy nodded slowly. "I'll bring some schoolbooks up later if you want to start studying or something. We have Netflix downstairs if you want to watch some TV. You could clean the attic if you want to be productive." Philza laughed. "I'm kidding. Make yourself comfortable. Nothing illegal, I guess."

Philza closed the door, sighing. It was difficult to talk to someone who barely talked. Philza shook it off. This would be a slow process. It started with establishing friendliness and respect. After that came trust. Hopefully, if Philza could persist through all the emotional walls, Tommy would see himself as part pf the family.

That was if Tommy was allowed to stay. Philza hoped he was. Tommy didn't need another family to abandon him.

——

While it was a joke, Tommy took it seriously. He found the latch in the roof. He reached up with his height to click the small lever. The roof cracked open, a wooden ladder sliding down behind Tommy. He crawled around the hall to climb up the ladder into the dusty attic.

It was mostly boxes, some stacked on old lamp tables. Tommy wandered around, nose itching with dust. He sneezed three times before he found a string that clicked the light on when Tommy pulled.

He got to work. He pushed the boxes to the side to make a pathway. Tommy walked back and forth, picking up, pushing, and pulling boxes into different piles in the four corners of the attic. He divided it by the names of the boxes, and a made some assumptions on who would have what. The fourth pile was trash. Broken trinkets, moth eaten curtains, that sort of thing. Any picture albums were placed in Philza's section, no matter who the child pictures were of.

When he was done, Tommy took his time to investigate the boxes. It was the easiest way to learn about the people around him other than internet stalking. Conversations would have been much harder than this. Without even meeting Techno and Wilbur, he had a decent idea of their personalities and what they looked like.

Philza Minecraft. He took lots of pictures, mostly candids and scenery. He used to be a pilot, or skydiver, or something because a lot of the pictures were taken from somewhere high above. It made them all the more beautiful, but Tommy couldn't figure out where the angle came from. He also watched lots of anime. Old, new, different genres. On each case, there was a yellow sticky note with five stars, and each case had a different number of stars colored in. Rarely did Tommy find a five star, but he decided that maybe they were worth checking out. There was a few books on how to take care of birds with some sections highlighted. Philza was definitely an avian fanatic. Tommy saw light, leather armor, so he wondered if Philza actually worked for the government as a drone driver.

Wilbur Soot Minecraft mostly had music in there. Notebooks filled with songs and lyrics. Some were edgy poems, but a few seemed mysterious in nature. There was old instruments tucked away, some broken but not unfixable. There was a piano in there, but some of the parts were missing. Tommy decided that he would use his free time to fix the percussion instrument. Other than that, Wilbur didn't have much up here.

Techno had the least out of everyone. Old books, mostly myths from different cultures, like Greek and Norse. There was more books on warcraft, strategies and tactics. The last of the books were on kendo and swordplay. By the looks of the pictures, this towns kendo team was boys and girls in leather arm holding iron swords instead of bamboo sticks. There was a few trophies and medals, plaques that proclaimed the first place winner Techno 'Blade' Minecraft.

Tommy flipped open the kendo books. He found himself captivated by the pages, wasting hours as he learned what he could. When Tommy reached for another book, his fingers grasped something else instead. Tommy pulled it out to find a scabbard, the sword firmly in the sheath. With growing curiosity, Tommy pulled out the blade.

It was a bright, fluorescent blue that illuminated the attic. It was a one sided sword that had a clean edge that could probably cut a window into two pieces with shattering the glass. Tommy saw his face in the blade, eyes growing wide as he saw how blue it made his eyes look. They weren't ugly in the sword. They were a lighter shade, like Philza's.

"What are you doing?" Someone asked in a low, monotone voice. Tommy turned around on quick feet, grasping the hilt with both hands as he legs spread out. Subconsciously, he tried mimicking the books he had read on kendo and swordplay.

It was Techno who spoke. He had long pink hair in a braid with brown- almost red- eyes framed in glasses. He was like the pictures Tommy had seen, but he was more intimidating in real life. Tommy swallowed as he felt Techno inspect him. Tommy felt like he was about to be a toy in the hands of a toddler: unloved, flashy, and going to be thrown around.

Instead, Techno began critiquing him. "You're too tense. You need to relax your muscles for fluid motion. Push your left foot back a little."

Tommy didn't do any of that. He merely slid the sword back into the sheath. He placed it back in the box, putting away the books with an embarrassed blush. He didn't think he would get caught, but he had gotten too distracted as he read. Tommy wondered how many hours he had spent up there. He meant to spend an hour or two, sneak down when Techno and Wilbur were still gone. Now, he was caught redhanded, rummaging through Techno's old stuff while grinning like a child.

Tommy turned back to see Techno lazily looking through Philza's pile. He didn't show much reaction to anything, meaninglessly flipping through the scrapbooks. He raised an eyebrow at Tommy's pile of five star anime discs but didn't comment. "We're having dinner if you want to join."

"Sure," Tommy muttered underneath his breath, following Techno downstairs.

—

Wilbur didn't know what to make of him. He was silent, skittish, but had these dark, glaring eyes. All throughout dinner, it was him and Philza talking while Techno added in commentary. The kid didn't say a single thing. Wilbur didn't know anything about his new sibling.

After dinner, the kid hung around, finally speaking when he asked Dadza what he should do. Wilbur listened in as he begun on the dishes, flinging water on Techno when he had the chance. The pinkette would make a weird sound when the water hit him, like a cross between a 'huh' and 'ah', like 'hah!'.

The kid was sweeping the kitchen. Wilbur looked over at him before deciding that maybe starting up a conversation wouldn't do anyone some harm. Plus, it was good to know as much of his voice as possible...

"Hey, mate, I'm Wilbur," He introduced himself even though Tommy knew who he was. He just wanted to start fresh since they didn't interact much before. Wilbur wanted Tommy to feel like this place was his home, and Wilbur wanted to experience having a little brother. But Tommy was bitterly stubborn in keeping to himself.

"Hi, Wilbur," The kid responded like it was his programming. An involuntary response that just happened. Wilbur really didn't like that.

"What did you do today? Was it boring in the house?" Wilbur asked. He didn't like staying at home when Techno was at practice and Philza had work. The house was too quiet, empty with nothing to distract from it. Wilbur would hang out with friends, acting like as if they had a mutualism symbiotic relationship. Sometimes it was a commensalism relationship, but that was besides the point.

"I organized the attic. I'll take the trash to the dumpsters some time," Tommy explained, looking up towards the roof like he could see through the second floor all the way to the attic. His eyes came back down, focusing on the broom's rhythmic motion again.

"You did? Man, that place hasn't been cleaned in years! It's literally all junk up there," Wilbur laughed. He remembered putting broken instruments with more sentimental value than practical use up there.

"Not junk. Some trash. But there's nice things up there. I want to fix that piano," Tommy whispered. Techno threw a glance at Tommy. Wilbur wondered what Tommy was doing when Techno had gone up to find him for dinner. Wilbur would have to ask Techno later.

"That's amazing! It's an old piano, but she isn't missing many parts. Do you play? Or do you just like fixing things?" Wilbur asked, secretly hoping it was the former. If Wilbur could connect with people on any level, it was a musical way. He's stories were best told with the gift of song.

"Both. I used to take piano lessons." Just like that, he shut off. Tommy refused to elaborate, tensing up and ignoring anything else said to him. He was lost in another time, Wilbur reasoned. Memories tend to do that. They replayed themselves, usually immersing the person in the details. Sometimes the brain naturally changed aspects of the memory, sometimes the brain amplified each detail. It was a scary thing to go through. Tommy snapped out of it when a glass cup sitting on the table shattered. Techno dropped the wooden stirring spoon he was drying while Wilbur turned off the faucet.

Tommy cursed under his breath loud enough for Wilbur to hear as he leaned the broom against the wall. He leaned down, picking up the shards with his hands instead of sweeping it. Wilbur was drying off his hands as he pulled Tommy away from the shards and the growing red puddle. "Don't do that, okay? We'll just sweep it up."

"Like I'd listen to some asshole," Tommy replied but didn't move, listening to that said asshole. Wilbur laughed as he grabbed the broom, sweeping the glass shards into a small pile. Techno grabbed the dustpan, holding it steady for Wilbur. When they finished, Techno dumped the glass in the trash while Wilbur wiped up the blood with a paper towel.

"You should run your hands under the water," Wilbur told Tommy as he saw some blood drying on his wrists and forearms. Tommy blinked, looking down at his bloody hands. He flexed his fingers, face scrunching up from pain.

"I'll be fine," Tommy told Wilbur as he cleaned the blood off under the sink water like Wilbur told him to. Techno brought in a first aid kit, plucking the bandages out of the compartment of the white box with a red cross. Despite Tommy's protesting, Techno wrapped his hands up with the bandages.

"There you go, Theseus," Techno said, looking at Wilbur instead of answering Tommy's unasked question. "I'm going to bed now. See you tomorrow, Orpheus, I love you."

"I love you, too, nerd," Wilbur said, getting a light hit in the back of the head. Wilbur laughed instead of telling Techno off. Wilbur looked to Tommy, still chuckling. "He calls almost everyone by some mythological figure. Usually Greek but he calls SapNap 'Pele' so it isn't strictly Greek. Probably the only person he doesn't have a mythos name for is Dream who he calls Tele Tubby."

Tommy didn't know who Dream was, but that had him laughing with his whole body. Wilbur smiled at him with kind eyes, glad that Tommy was getting somewhere instead of staying a shut in.