Chapter Text
Tommy hummed excitedly as he got out of his car. Even if he had been working at the theater for almost four months, he still felt as excited as on his first day every time he drove up.
This was his first job, and even though he loved it, when he was fifteen, he dreaded the idea of getting a job. He realized he would probably have to spend time on something he didn’t want to do, but when he realized he could start a career in theatricals by having a part-time job creating and moving backgrounds and props and the like, he was really excited to start.
He had always enjoyed acting; he was a very verbose kid with an affinity for attracting the spotlight. He was good at exaggerating emotions to convey points or explain things and make his arguments more fun to listen to. He was amazing at telling stories, and many people described the way he spoke as very colorful and exciting.
Even though moving the props and sets wasn’t his ideal occupation, it was a start. It would be a good fall-back career if it turned out he wasn’t as good an actor as he believed he was, according to his parents.
When he entered the building he looked gleeful, yet still slightly nervous. Tonight had a show going on, which meant his work day wouldn’t be very long, but it meant he and the others in the stage crew would have to go quickly. It wasn’t the first show he helped out with, but he always had a little anxiety he would drop something and the crowd would hear. He was still relatively confident that this play would go just as smoothly as previous times.
The crowd mostly wasn’t here yet, though there were a few early birds already seated. Right now, Tommy was pretty sure the actors and actresses were getting in their costumes and makeup. They were showing the Little Mermaid in play form, which, while Tommy was a fan of the movie, it was pretty prop-heavy, which worried him a little bit.
Tommy seemed to be the second of the stage setters to get there. Given the theater being very local, there were only four of them, but the stage wasn’t really big so it was still manageable.
Tommy was good friends with the other prop movers. There was Tubbo, who was only a few months older than Tommy. Tommy considered him his best friend, and kept in frequent contact with him outside of work. They found out they went to the same school and hung out during lunch a lot.
Next up was Purpled, who was almost a year older than them and didn’t go to the same school as Tommy or Tubbo. Although he was a little bit less excited to talk or anything, typically relatively silent during work, he seemed to try to remain courteous. It was clear this wasn’t his dream job or anything.
Speaking of the word “dream,” there was also Dream, who was the oldest of the quartet at twenty-one years old, but was also the most experienced. He could pick up heavier things than the others, so he was technically the most valuable of them. He was always pretty eager to talk, and was sometimes clingy, but Tommy hardly ever noticed.
It took a while for everyone to get there, Tommy had come an hour earlier than he had to just in case. As the performance began, and the curtain opened, he and his friends stood to the side, offstage.
A couple of songs in, they changed the set. Another song, change the set. It went on like this for an hour and a half.
When the curtains opened for the curtain call, every actor bowed before the director gave a long-winded speech about how great all the performers did.
Tommy and Dream were offstage to the left, while Tubbo and Purpled were on the other side. Tommy felt relieved that the show was over, and as the last of the performers went onstage to bow, when Tommy and Dream were pretty much alone…
Tommy froze as two hands rested on his hips. “Huh..?” he started, turning his head to see Dream right behind him.
Oh.
Oh…
Dream took the surprised look from Tommy as his cue to go even further. As his grip tightened and he pulled Tommy’s lower regions closer to his own, Tommy started looking anywhere other than at Dream. He could feel himself shaking as something very noticeable pressed against his ass, it felt like all of his words were pulled from his throat as he swept his gaze across his surroundings.
Purpled and Tubbo were both watching the performers stand as the director spoke, and the people onstage were looking towards the crowd. Wasn’t anyone going to notice what Dream was doing to him?
Dream was twenty-one. Tommy was sixteen. This wasn’t right, this was straight up illegal in a lot of places. Tommy finally got the nerve to pry Dream’s hands off of him, turning to face him. He was introduced to the startled face of Dream, who was clearly not expecting Tommy to spring back to life and squirm away.
“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Tommy said, though it was sort of a whisper-yell to avoid having anyone else hear.
Dream immediately pulled himself together. “What do you mean?” He seemed to be trying to play dumb, like what he just did wasn’t really fucking sexual.
Tommy didn’t even want to dignify him with a response. Usually, Tommy enjoyed talking other people’s ears off, especially if he thought they did something wrong, but the way Dream touched him was too weird to put into words. Well, the two words that could describe it didn’t want to leave his mouth.
Sexual harassment.
Clearly, Dream could tell Tommy wasn’t going to respond to that. “Come on, Tommy, I thought you’d…” Dream cut himself off when the twenty or so actors filed by, ready to dress back into their regular clothes and take off their makeup.
Tommy didn’t want to be here anymore. He knew that they had to take down the set and sort the props back into storage to use again later, but he felt so fucking unsafe any moment he was here with this older man. He hadn’t realized Dream liked him in that way, but it made him so uncomfortable and anxious.
He asked the director if he could go home early, stating he didn’t feel well, which Mr. Soot accepted and said he could go ahead.
The next morning, before he went to school, he called his boss to tell him he quit.
~~~~~
Working in a grocery store was very dull. Tommy hated it. Everything from standing still to scanning items to the annoying customers grated against Tommy’s nerves, and working six hours a day five days a week really rubbed him the wrong way.
However, retail isn’t a very good job to work if you’re avoiding someone. Tommy needed the money, though; money is freedom, and freedom meant that he could go to college when he graduated.
He blocked Dream’s phone number, email, anything he could think of to keep Dream from contacting him. Dream had blown up his phone with texts saying that he was sorry and he wouldn’t do it again, but Tommy wasn’t stupid. He knew that if he kept giving a creep like Dream the chance to hurt him, it would keep happening, and one day, it would be so bad that he would never recover from it. Tommy couldn’t even recover from what Dream had done to him already; he was so anxious and stressed out every time he saw a tall blond white man in the store, even when he realized they weren’t Dream.
Tommy was pretty sure Dream didn’t know where he worked now. When Tubbo, who was very worried about his friend, asked Tommy why he quit, Tommy had to lie through his teeth and say he just needed some different scenery. He refused to tell Tubbo what Dream had done to him, even though it had crossed his mind that Dream might do it to Tubbo, too. He couldn't bring himself to admit to anyone he was a victim, though.
It was scary knowing that Dream had those kinds of thoughts for a kid, especially since he had worked in a group with three minors…
The worst thing about Tommy’s new job was, now that it’s the summer, they had him work the closing shift relatively often. That meant he worked until midnight alone, then closed the store by himself. Clearly, the store couldn’t afford to pay at least two teenagers to close.
Tommy didn’t want to complain, since he was new to the job and didn’t really know his boss’s temperaments well enough yet, but he was always anxious as hell as he closed the store and strode to his car. He always made sure to park near the door when he could, so that was something, at least.
Tonight, two months after he had quit his old job, the one he actually liked, was no different. He was so bored he thought he might die, little amusement found in his thoughts before they always steered back towards Dream.
As a matter of fact, it was more likely someone who wasn’t Dream might attack or kidnap him so late at night, but Tommy couldn’t decide who would be worse. A stranger or a specific man he knew wanted to do unspeakable things to?
Tommy sighed, trying to dispel his anxiety as the alarm he set on his phone went off.
11:55 P.M. It was about time to close shop.
The blonde rose from the seat that was tucked behind the counter. He didn’t know why the store stayed open so late, almost no one came by after eleven. He closed his counter he was at (one of two, ignoring the pharmacy area that closed at ten, lucky bastards), managing the cash register and then leaving the counter.
He approached the door, locking it after fumbling with it in his hands a little bit. Damn shaky hands.
As Tommy turned to face the outside, as always, it was very dark. The moon was partly covered in clouds, but it still provided a little illumination alongside the streetlights.
His car was right there, thankfully, so, trying his best to look confident (he heard somewhere that that would stave off any potential threats), he strode to the driver seat door of his car. It wasn't an amazing car, he had bought it at a used car lot, but it worked alright enough, given it could take him from point A to point B.
Still, he couldn’t calm the tremor in his hands, his keychain rattling in his grasp as he tried to discern his car key from his house key.
He finally found which one was his car key when one hand swiftly went over his mouth and another glided to wrap around his stomach. Tommy dropped his keys in surprise, almost swearing when he realized what he did.
“I found you~!” a familiar voice murmured in his ear, making Tommy frown in recognition. Dream.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…
Tommy, despite what he had previously told himself he would do, stiffened, not knowing what he could do to escape. He had told himself, over and over, that if Dream did this, he had to scream, run, hit the perpetrator, anything; he told himself that he’d find some way to be safe.
Yet, here he was, the closest thing to fighting back being shaking violently as the weight of the situation crashed upon him.
Dream chuckled darkly, and Tommy felt shivers run up his spine as the familiar movement of Dream pressing their hips together returned. He had seemingly never forgotten it. “You know, Toms…” Dream started, “I really thought you were going to put up a fight, considering you went through all this trouble to try to escape.” The last word was stated dryly, leading into Dream resting his head in the crook of Tommy’s neck, breathing down his collarbone.
Tommy had to do something. He couldn’t just fall apart in Dream’s hands… He had to get away and tell the police about what Dream did to him. He should have already done that, and now he was facing the consequences of his short-sightedness.
Gathering the courage to act before it was too late, Tommy unexpectedly threw his head back, satisfaction rising as Dream yelped and let go, backing up a bit. “Fuck!”
Tommy wasted no time in moving to grab his keys off the ground, though he did have to feel around for a second to get them (the idea of Dream having his house keys terrified the shit out of Tommy). He quickly stumbled up off the ground and started running as fast as he could. The idea of screaming, unfortunately, didn’t come to mind immediately, only when he heard footsteps echo behind him.
Tommy yelled for help, though he worried no one would hear. This place was a more run-down commercial area, the only other place open was a gas station he was actually running away from. There weren’t any cars. Tommy was fucked.
“Oh, Tommy!” Dream shouted tauntingly, confident no one would see or hear him. Dream was getting closer.
Tommy wasn’t the most athletic kid, and, soon enough, once he had run all the way down the street, he was pulled back by the collar of his hoodie. He screamed as he was pulled closer to Dream, kicking and writhing in the older’s grasp, only to be pushed to the ground, on his stomach. Dream held him down by practically sitting on top of him.
“Help! Help! Someone, please!” Tommy cried, his throat dry and ragged as his lungs begged for air. It was hard to keep yelling, it was hard to breathe.
When Tommy couldn’t shout anymore, his suspicions were confirmed; no one was here to save him. Dream clicked his tongue in disapproval, shifting slightly on top of Tommy as he reached into his pockets for something. “I’m disappointed, Toms,” he chastised the younger, “I actually thought you might come with me freely for a moment there. Always the actor, huh?”
Tommy gritted his teeth when a harsh hand gripped the back of his head, lifting his skull by the hair. It hurt, but he quickly realized what was happening when the other hand pushed a damp cloth up against his mouth and nose. He was being drugged.
“No, no…” Tommy drawled, his eyelids becoming heavier. Even when he tried to hold his breath, he could feel his consciousness being ripped away from him.
He briefly wiggled beneath Dream, hating the fact that there was nothing he could do about this situation as the voice he hated most said, “Ah, there you go, good boy, just breathe deeply…”
Everything went dark before Tommy could get away.