Once upon a time Tommy Shepherd had really believed that he didn’t need anyone to keep himself sane. He’d spent so much time on Temba emotionally alone, afraid of getting attached lest he lose someone that he thought he got what it was like to lose all of his support network. Back home he’d spent so long caught up in super juvie, truly isolated, that he thought he got what it was like to not get to know anyone.
Apparently he hadn’t truly understood any of that until he’d come to Hawkins in the ass end year of 1985.
His life had devolved into the strangest combination of routine and unpredictability he’d ever known. Get up, work, wait for school to get out, follow the Camaro as subtly as he can to look for trouble, to look for the moment, realize it’s not the moment, go home, sleep, repeat. Some days it gets changed up because there’s a party to linger around the edges of, to see Eddie and not say hello, to to recognize the voice that comes with no one being around.
He sees people, he sees people constantly. More people in Hawkins than there ever had been on Temba, hell, maybe more than there even were on the Agrii ships. It’s like the planet trips but it just doesn’t stop and he’s alone.
There are rare interludes of connection. More than once Hargrove has ‘accidentally’ shown up at his door, looking for a bit more money, and Tommy doesn’t make himself completely predictable in that way. He’s not supposed to leave an impression, right? Not one that matters. Not supposed to mess up time before that one right moment. The one that matters.
In a way he’s more tired than he’s ever been in his life. More alone. He can’t even just take a day trip to New York, find an Avenger, and just be around someone he knows that doesn’t know him in a way where he could still talk about it.
No, all he can do is ache, all he can do is wait. All he can do is wonder if, in the end, it will even be worth it.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
branchandroot
April, 1985
Date: 2023-09-24 10:43 pm (UTC)Apparently he hadn’t truly understood any of that until he’d come to Hawkins in the ass end year of 1985.
His life had devolved into the strangest combination of routine and unpredictability he’d ever known. Get up, work, wait for school to get out, follow the Camaro as subtly as he can to look for trouble, to look for the moment, realize it’s not the moment, go home, sleep, repeat. Some days it gets changed up because there’s a party to linger around the edges of, to see Eddie and not say hello, to to recognize the voice that comes with no one being around.
He sees people, he sees people constantly. More people in Hawkins than there ever had been on Temba, hell, maybe more than there even were on the Agrii ships. It’s like the planet trips but it just doesn’t stop and he’s alone.
There are rare interludes of connection. More than once Hargrove has ‘accidentally’ shown up at his door, looking for a bit more money, and Tommy doesn’t make himself completely predictable in that way. He’s not supposed to leave an impression, right? Not one that matters. Not supposed to mess up time before that one right moment. The one that matters.
In a way he’s more tired than he’s ever been in his life. More alone. He can’t even just take a day trip to New York, find an Avenger, and just be around someone he knows that doesn’t know him in a way where he could still talk about it.
No, all he can do is ache, all he can do is wait. All he can do is wonder if, in the end, it will even be worth it.