Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I just think that you are wrong,” Quackity says fondly, hitting Sapnap in the arm, “Mango is clearly superior.”

“Why would you say that when raspberries exist?” Sapnap exclaims, throwing both arms up in the air. Then he scowls and brings his arms back down to take another bite out of his sandwich.

Currently, the three of them are holed up in the cafeteria, eating their amazing sandwiches as they ignore the very public argument that Wilbur and Phil are having.

It’s a bit amusing, because Quackity is trying to pay attention to the argument and Sapnap and George at the same time, but is wildly failing at both and only half-aware of what’s happening in both.

Luckily, George hears the all-too-familiar footsteps behind him, so he can prepare himself and try not to jump or flinch.

George doesn’t flinch when Sam puts his hand on his shoulder, but he does turn around and school his expression because he’s in front of Sapnap and Quackity and he doesn’t want to worry them.

Sam looks down at him, expression not exactly happy.

George knows he hasn’t done anything, they’ve barely spoken since then, there’s no way he can have done anything. But still, his breath seems to get caught in his throat and it feels like he’s a kid again, waiting to be berated by his mother or father.

“I need to talk to you,” Sam says curtly.

He walks off.

Quackity squints at Sam’s retreating figure and George ducks his head, eating his sandwich and refusing to make eye contact with Sapnap.

George eats the rest of the sandwich, basically shoving it in his mouth, before swinging his legs back over the bench and standing up. 

Sam will probably get pissed at him, for taking too long, he seems like that kind of guy—

He starts to head towards the door.

“Hey,” Sapnap says.

George turns to face him.

“Is everything— alright?” His face has a level of seriousness, his eyes are slightly narrowed and he’s watching George’s face for any sort of tell. Sapnap knows him well, but George keeps forgetting that.

Of course, he knows when something is wrong.

George almost tells them, about Elysium and about Sam and his parents and why Sam actually has any control over him and—

It would be so easy.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” George lies, “I owe Sam some favours, just doing programming he’s been putting off because it’s time intensive for no reason.”

Quackity nods.

Sapnap isn’t convinced.

He isn’t convinced of much these days, recent events have clearly affected them all in almost every way possible, but now there’s something… withdrawn about the way Sapnap moves and talks.

The way he looks out for George like his life depends on it because he’s failed at looking out for his friends before and now they’re all dealing with the outfall of that.

“I’m okay,” George says again, trying to remove some of the doubt in Sapnap’s eyes, it’s not even a lie. “Do we wanna go to Quackity’s for Japanese tonight?”

“For sure,” Quackity says with a smile.

George nods, before turning around and walking away.

He can feel Sapnap’s uncertainty as George leaves.

The walk to Sam’s office feels like George is in high school again, and he’s being questioned by the principal. George drags his feet the entire way. He’s not happy about this entire thing and—

He gets to Sam’s office, near the workshop, and pushes open the door.

Sam is sitting at his desk, squinting at a tablet that’s propped up with a bunch of papers around him, George knows that’s calculus surrounding him, and if George was slightly more bothered he’d solve them instead of focusing on the anxiety that’s eating him up.

George sits down.

Sam looks up, “What’s four plus seven?”

“Eleven?”

How stupid is this man?

Worst of all George appears to be being blackmailed by a stupid man.

“Thanks,” Sam mutters, before looking up again, “What’s going on between Quackity and Sapnap?”

Okay. 

Cool, George is not telling Sam that.

“They have a crush on each other,” George lies smoothly, shocking himself at how quickly this lie came to him, “Neither of them are doing anything about it because of the rules.”

Sam nods, looking back down. “George, do you know how much blue it takes to kill someone?”

That is a conversation shift if George’s ever heard one.

“What?” George half-laughs to try and remove some of the awkwardness, “No— that’s not exactly taught at the school I went to.”

“About five and a half drams,” Sam says, “Or about twenty millilitres. Of pure blue, it only takes that much, twenty millilitres can fit in standard-sized needles, and that amount causes your body to release a lethal amount of hormones such as adrenaline and cortisol.”

George blinks at him.

“And your heart might explode, from beating too fast,” Sam adds helpfully, “It isn’t a guaranteed death but the statistics are pretty high. Ten millilitres will make someone pass out from their brain being overwhelmed due to mixed messages and adrenaline.”

“Okay…” George says slowly. “What does this have anything to do with me—”

“I want fifty millilitres of blue.”

“What?” George says, “The fuck— I don’t know how to fucking do that—”

Sam raises an eyebrow, “You can figure it out.”

“You get it!” George snaps, “The fuck? Listen to my accent does it look like I could just walk into Logstedchire and find blue? Surely you can synthesise it here or something—”

“Elysium took the chemical formula.”

George stares at him for a few moments, mouth open, “And you didn’t have it backed up on a server— written down somewhere else, Elysium were able to just walk in and grab it and leave without any fuss. You didn’t have it memorised or—”

Sam just frowns.

Oh.

This man is genuinely an idiot.

Somehow this man, the one in the running to replace William Nelson-Jones, is an actual, genuine idiot.

Oh. Ender.

George crosses his arms, glaring at Sam.

“You’re going to do it.”

Then George remembers he has… no leverage.

He has very little leverage.

George sighs, putting his hands in his pockets and looking at Sam.

“You’re— gonna kill someone with it?” George asks, and he stands up, “No, nope— I am not helping you kill someone, arrest me, tell the higher-ups, I don’t care, I am not aiding you in murder.”

Sam sighs, leaning back in his chair, “I really hoped you wouldn’t say that George.”

George looks down at his feet, is he really going to help Sam murder someone? 

Kill them in cold blood?

“Don’t pretend to be righteous, George,” Sam says easily, and this makes George look up. “You want this person gone as much as I do.”

George’s face screws up, he can’t think of anyone he wants dead . “Who would you use it on?”

Sam is silent for a few moments, before meeting George’s eyes.

He stands up, something serious and deadly in his eyes.

“Theseus.” Sam says.

Overall, Tommy’s been having a good time.

It’s a bit hot outside, due to it being Summer, he’s walked from the subway and has his headphones in and a water bottle in his hand. He has Twitter on his phone, and is living his best life.

In front of him stands Wilbur Soot.

Wilbur is also walking towards him, his car a little bit behind him. 

For some reason he’s wearing an undone red flannel and a black t-shirt underneath and sunglasses. He looks like a bad lumberjack, with even worse sunglasses.

What is Tommy going to be saying after two weeks of not talking to anyone at the hero tower?

Especially who Wilbur who tends to worry about him a lot and—

“Your sunglasses are ugly.”

That is the first thing Tommy calls out to Wilbur, after two weeks of no contact.

“And you look like a fuckin’ lumberjack,” Tommy continues. 

They both stop in front of path that leads up to Phil’s house.

Wilbur raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms.

“Hello to you too. And my eyes are sensitive to light, Tommy .”

“Blue eyes are more sensitive genetically, but you don’t see me being a little bitch about it. And I don’t look like a lumberjack, Wilbur.”

They walk up so they’re on the porch of Phil’s house.

 Tomm has his gifts tucked under his arm.

Wilbur hesitates, hand hovering over the door going to open it. 

Instead, he turns to look at Tommy with a grin on his face.

“I might look like a lumberjack but I look like a cool lumberjack.”

“No, not even,” Tommy says. “Gonna go chop some lumber?”

“The fuck does that even mean?”

“You could not pick up an axe if your fuckin’ life depended on it, your weak little arms would snap off.”

Wilbur stares at him, “You done Twig-Arms Underscore?”

Tommy glares at him, and Wilbur swings the door open.

Tommy manages to knock Wilbur out of the way, and walks into the house before Wilbur can, mostly because he’s an annoying little brother and the world needs to know about it.

It works, because Wilbur sighs under his breath as Tommy darts in front of him.

“Y’know I haven’t seen you in two weeks and the first thing you do is make fun of what I’m wearing.”

“You just make it so easy,” Tommy deadpans, he holds the gifts a little bit closer to him as he walks towards the kitchen, Wilbur following behind after him, and Tommy knows Wilbur is unimpressed with the entire situation. “I had a mental breakdown and Techno put me on leave for two and a half weeks.”

Tommy turns around to look at Wilbur.

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Are you alright?” Wilbur asks, “I mean— Techno put you on leave are you… okay?”

Tommy pauses for about three seconds.

His eyes dart back down to the cast on Wilbur’s wrist.

Tommy nods, “Just a rough period I guess—”

“Tommy!” Someone says brightly, and Tommy turns around.

Niki is running towards him, which is surprisingly terrifying, and she wraps his arms around him and drags him into a Niki-hug. 

(Which are probably the best hugs, in his not-at-all biased opinion.)

She hugs him for a few moments, before letting go of him.

Then she looks at Wilbur, “I did not invite you.”

“I didn’t invite myself either,” Wilbur mutters darkly, “Techno said and I quote—” he looks down at his phone, scrolling for a few moments before sighing. “He said, and I quote, ‘Wilbur Soot if you don’t come to this party I will fillet you like a fucking fish.’ And Techno’s alright with a knife.”

Niki stares at him, “He threatened to fillet you?”

“Not the first time,” Wilbur says, “He gets overwhelmed at parties, he pretends he doesn’t and just threatens me into coming to them. Also stressed because he wants you to have a good time and—”

Niki pauses, “Is there food?”

“Yeah, I think there’s pizza?”

“Is there alcohol?”

Wilbur pauses for a moment, “… yes.”

Tommy sighs. Of course there is.

“It’ll be fine,” Niki says waving her hand dismissively, “Do you have Mario Kart?”

“Yeah,” Wilbur says, “It’s on the— uh— thingamabob. The— thing, the— you get what I mean.” He sighs. “Oh, yeah, happy birthday— great job on making it this far.”

“Wilbur, you don’t like me,” Niki says, arms crossed, “You don’t have to do whatever pretence thing you do—”

“You’re the one who actively dislikes me, Niki, you’re just my younger brother’s best friend. Have this.” He hands over a small wrapped package and Niki just raises an eyebrow at him.

She doesn’t reach to grab it.

“Niki…” Wilbur says, “It’ll piss off Techno.”

Niki grabs it straight away, snatching it out of Wilbur’s hand and unwrapping it.

She gasps when she sees it, looking up at Wilbur, amusement in her eyes. “This is a— dog-sized Blade costume.”

Wilbur grins, “You fuckin’ bet it is. Okay— I said I’d go talk to Phil so—” he steps to the side, “Happy birthday, being twenty doesn’t suck as much as you think it will. Take care of yourself.”

He pauses for a few seconds, hesitating.

Wilbur takes a step away and then steps back, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets and looking down at the floor.

“And uh, Niki, I know you don’t like me a lot but… thanks for looking out for Techno, for being his friend and supporting him and— yeah, just… thanks.”

They both look at each other for a moment, then Wilbur walks past Niki and Tommy silently.

Niki watches him for a moment, her eyes narrow slightly, and Tommy can almost feel her thinking. She hums, “Huh.”

“What?” Tommy asks.

“He cares about Techno.”

“Fucking duh?” Tommy says, “The fuck are you on about?”

“I know that logically, just… I haven’t had a lot to do with Wilbur. He really cares.”

“Of fucking course he does.”

Niki sighs, before turning around to look at Tommy. “How have you been?”

“Good, good—” Tommy says.

Niki raises an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, probably less than good. I’m working on doing better, I guess… I want to work on that.”

Niki smiles, “That’s good, how is— seeing everyone?”

“Wilbur hasn’t asked a question, I think Techno is late… Phil is pretty good at not giving a shit about me.”

“Phil cares about you,” Niki says, glancing over her shoulder, “You’re in like two photos on his wall. He’s probably just bad at showing it, and he’s very good at not pushing people, even when he should.”

“You know a lot about Phil,” Tommy says, eyes narrowed.

“Techno is my best friend,” Niki deadpans, “You learn a lot about someone’s family when you’re friends with them. You didn’t answer the question though, how is seeing everyone?”

Tommy sighs, looking down at the floor then up at Niki. “Good. It’s good, I missed Wil, haven’t seen Phil. Uh— I talked to Tubbo! We had a falling out a while ago and we figured that out and yeah,” he gives a small smile.

Niki breaks out into a smile, “Tommy that’s amazing!”

“Eh,” Tommy shrugs, “Nice to talk to him again.”

Niki gives a soft smile.

“Oh, birthday!” Tommy says intelligently, “Sorry that I’m a bit late, getting out of Logstedchire is a nightmare. Uh— I got you these!”

Tommy shoves everything into Niki’s arms.

One present wrapped up and… one slightly squashed bouquet.

“Uh— sorry about the flower.”

Niki brightens up completely. “Aww, Tommy! These are beautiful!”

“Thanks! I have no idea what it is!” Tommy adds just about as brightly, “I just said I was giving flowers to a mate and they got me— that.”

Niki smiles, picking up the flower carefully, trying to smooth out the petals. “I think… don’t quote me on this, that’s a red zinnia. They’re one of the nicer flowers for bouquets, they sold them at the shop I worked at.”

“You worked at a florist?”

“For a couple months yeah,” Niki replies, eyes on the flower, she tries to uncrumple the folded up petals, to very little success. She moves to the side, placing the flower down, before grabbing the squishy package.

She looks at Tommy, then smiles brightly, “I wonder what this might be.”

She unwraps the present with ferocity, tearing the paper off and crumpling it into a ball, before throwing it behind her and it bounces on the ground.

In her arms is a blue lump of fabric that needs to be unfolded.

“Uh, you were wiping your hands on your pants when we were baking, you might have an apron but I thought the little rainbow apron was too cute to lose.”

“Tommy, that’s so thoughtful, thank you so much—” 

Niki unfolds it, and it falls to the right size. It’s a blue apron with a rather large pocket, with a little embroidered rainbow slightly underneath the neckline and to the side. She smiles at it, then looks at Tommy.

“Aww, Tommy—”

There’s a crash and a shuffling noise.

Both of them look, Tommy completely turning around.

It’s Techno.

Techno who is struggling with a pile of boxes that are stacked up incredibly high. Tommy almost goes over to help, then he realises that he’s a little brother and it’s against his moral code to help Techno with… literally anything.

“Sorry that I’m late,” Techno says, kicking one of the boxes across the floor. “Uh— traffic, yeah, traffic was crazy.”

“You can’t drive…” Niki says slowly.

Techno pauses, eyes going wider as if he had not considered this. “Yeah, traffic was wild. Uh—”

Niki takes a few careful steps forwards, squinting slightly. “Are those… are those all for me? Techno what the fuck—”

Techno manages to peer over the top of the boxes. “Oh, no, these are all empty. I just wrapped them for a dramatic entrance. I couldn’t think of what to get you— and then, well…”

He drops the boxes.

Tommy is starting to realise where Wilbur gets his dramatic flair from. Or… if Techno got his dramatic flair from Wilbur. Maybe all of them are incredibly dramatic all the time.

And peeking out from behind Techno— 

Is Aimsey.

Aimsey the person from in front of the mural.

Why the fuck does Niki know Aimsey who was in front of the mural?

“You’re just too hard to buy for,” Techno says with a sigh, “So… I got you a child, this one’s a bit loud, but you tend to be attached to loud ones.”

Aimsey and Niki just stare at each other for a few moments, and Tommy takes a few steps back so he’s out of the way.

Niki puts a hand over her mouth, before looking at Techno. “What?” She whispers, there are tears in her eyes as she stares at Aimsey.

Tommy has been confused before.

But this— this takes the cake of his confusion.

“Well, Aimsey isn’t supposed to leave the premises, but they can with someone supervising, or to visit family. We couldn’t spin that you were family, but apparently I am a responsible supervisor. So now he’s here.”

Aimsey gives the smallest wave, “Techno’s the security.”

“Weakest security I know,” Niki whispers.

Without a moment of hesitation, Aimsey runs at Niki, throwing their arms around her and hugging her tightly. 

Niki has no reservations and hugs Aimsey back.

Tommy glances at Techno, then back at the two hugging.

The fuck—

And then Techno’s moving across the room, towards him.

Tommy takes a few stumbling steps backwards as he fully plans to run out of the room into another country, this will not go well—

“Are you okay?” Niki asks, “Have you been eating enough? Having enough water— are you safe? Do we need to get you out of L’Manberg?”

“I’m okay, I’m okay, Niki, I’m okay.”

Techno grabs Tommy by the arm.

Tommy tries to shake Techno’s grip off his arm, he doesn't succeed, of course he doesn't.

“We should let them talk, and I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t think you do,” Tommy grits out as Techno keeps his grip on Tommy’s arm. “Let go—”

Techno manages to drag him out of the kitchen and towards the stairs.

“I said let go,” Tommy snaps, “I swear to Prime I’ll fuckin’ fry you.”

Techno does not let go, and drags Tommy up the stairs.

Tommy can’t do much about it because of Techno’s super strength and he can do even less about it because he doesn’t have powers, so he can’t even zap Techno or do anything, he just has to be dragged up the stairs.

It’s weird being helpless like this, Tommy hasn’t been that helpless since he was a kid. Not since his parents would drag him places and Tommy couldn’t do anything about it. It’s weird… to hold no power again.

Techno swings a door open.

Then they’re in what seems like Techno’s childhood bedroom.

It’s clearly a more stripped room than Wilbur, with the decorations having been taken down. But despite that there’s still a photo on the bedside table of what looks like Wilbur, Techno and Phil.

The room itself is pretty simple, it’s smaller than Wilbur’s, but it has a massive desk and bookshelf, and a smaller wardrobe than Wilbur. The walls are white, with one black accent wall behind Techno’s bed and several large windows.

The double bed is pushed into the corner with a bedside table next to it.

Tommy snorts looking around the room, “This is where you grew up?”

Techno glares, “I really think we have better things to talk about. But no, I didn’t technically live here, I just had a room.”

“Just?” Tommy asks, snorting slightly, “Guessing you spent all your time here and just had an apartment in Logstedchire…” he walks up to the bedside table and pick up the photo.

Sure enough, it is Phil, Wilbur and Techno. Techno is frowning as Wilbur hugs him around the shoulders and Phil is mid-laugh. 

“How old are you here?”

“Nineteen,” Techno says, grabbing the photo from Tommy and putting it back on the bedside table.

“When did you move out?”

“Before that.”

“So you came back and put the photo back?” Tommy asks, “Awww, Techno.”

“Tommy.” Techno snaps, and Tommy stands up a little bit straighter. “Fucking… two weeks without contact? What the fuck?”

“You see,” Tommy says carefully, taking a few steps backwards towards the door, “I did what the kids would call a sad boy arc, I know you’re old and don’t know what that means but—”

Techno just stares at him.

“Just uh… sorta, yeah, y’know?”

“I do not.”

Tommy sighs, “I think I had a depressive episode or moment, I’m not a doctor— that doesn’t mean anything, I’m fine, most people have those at least once in their life. I just… had no motivation to do anything and… I dunno, was stuck in my head.”

Techno stares at him for a few moments.

Tommy gives a shrug, “I mean, I’m not a doctor I dunno if that’s right and— and uh, yeah. It wasn’t fun, would not recommend that for anything. And I just… barely had the energy to breathe let alone message people and—”

Techno grabs Tommy.

For a moment Tommy’s about to start fighting, to start yelling and kicking and anything. It’s the thing in the back of his brain which is a habit, to start fighting when grabbed and—

Techno hugs him.

Tommy freezes, just for a moment, before relaxing into the hug.

It’s warm, and feels safe, Tommy doesn’t feel safe a lot, but there’s something about Techno’s hugs make him feel safe even at the worst of times. 

Tommy buries his face in Techno’s shoulder.

“I’m just glad you’re alright,” Techno says, hugging Tommy tight. “I was worried about you.”

Tommy doesn’t say anything, just relaxing into the hug, and letting it happen.

He deserves it.

Sometimes Tommy just needs a hug, and he’s not going to deny himself comfort when he needs it anymore, so he sighs and lets Techno hug him, hugging Techno back as hard as he can.

It’s nice.

It’s just… nice.

Eventually, Techno lets go of him, holding him by the shoulders.

“I care about you,” Techno says, grabbing slightly shaking Tommy by the shoulders, “Alright?”

“Can you not— care about me?” 

“Nope. I care about you.”

“I know…”

“You still need to be reminded sometimes,” Techno says, still holding Tommy by the shoulders, “Alright? I care about you a lot, and— yeah. Bad with emotions, but you gotta know this.”

Tommy nods slowly, “I care about you too.”

“I know, and I don’t doubt that.”

Tommy grabs Techno’s wrist and takes Techno’s hand off of his shoulder.

He turns around and busying himself with looking at the bookshelf, back to Techno.

“How’s… things at the tower?”

“Well, you’re a very wanted criminal. Most of the heroes know that I know you, the committee doesn’t know shit. They’re talking about security upgrades and… Slimecicle is back.”

Tommy stops completely, turning to look at Techno. “Slime was with Elysium.”

“Slime still might be, he’s been seen on patrol… people think Theseus is dead.”

“It’s been two weeks.”

“That’s the longest gap you’ve had in years.”

Tommy pauses, looking at the bookshelf and running his hand across the books. It’s a pretty empty bookshelf, Tommy knows Techno would’ve taken basically everything with him. Tommy’s actually shocked he didn’t take the bookshelf as well.

He sighs, taking off a random book. It’s a sketchbook of some kind, “You draw?”

“I did when I was a teenager, put that down. You’re avoiding the question.”

“You haven’t asked anything,” Tommy returns easily.

Tommy puts that down, before pulling out another book ‘Good Omens’ it’s an older book, with the front cover with rips and tears in it. Tommy wouldn’t doubt if this was second hand, he puts that back on the bookshelf.

“Theseus hasn’t been seen in two weeks,” Techno repeats, stronger this time.

“And he’s not going to be seen ever again if I have anything to say about it.” Tommy snaps, turning around and facing Techno. “I’m done, with Theseus.”

That seems to make Techno speechless.

He just stares at Tommy, mouth open.

Tommy nods slowly, taking a deep breath.

“The country is on the verge of a coup and you’re just gonna… leave whatever political mess you helped cause?”

“Exactly.”

“Tommy. They’re gonna think the heroes arrested you.”

“No they’re not.”

“Tommy, I can assure you, that if anything happens to Theseus that is the easiest way to start riots all throughout the city. Even Upper L’Manberg loves you, to have you fall off the face of the Earth is dangerous.”

Tommy looks down, “I can’t keep— doing this whole Theseus thing, Tech, I… I can’t take the lying and the workload and all of it, I hate who I’m becoming behind that stupid fucking mask, I hate that I’m hurting people and I don’t want to be that person anymore.”

Techno sighs.

“I’ve spent— three years taking care of everyone in Logstedchire, it was a year when I was the only active vigilante in Logstedchire. Spent three years fighting for people and letting them go free for petty crimes, Techno… three years is no short time. I need— I need a break, I needed a break three years ago. I don’t want to be Theseus, I shouldn’t have to be. I didn’t mean to cause this political mess.”

Techno crosses his arms.

“I didn’t! I don’t mean to do any of this, I never mean to do any of this— I just— wanted to do what I was right, I didn’t want to work with Elysium, but Blue was involved and— and I stop thinking or being rational when that happens. And— it didn’t mean to become this, I didn’t mean to—”

Techno sighs, sitting down on his bed and sighing, “This is a mess.”

Tommy sits down next to Techno, hunching over and looking down at the floor.

Both of them sit there in silence.

Then Tommy decides to lay on Techno’s shoulder, and Techno shuffles closer so Tommy doesn’t have to crane his neck as much. He sighs softly and Techno doesn’t say a word.

They sit there in a silence, it’s not quite comfortable, not quite uneasy but something in the middle. Tommy and Techno sit there, on the bed just… staring at the wall in front of them, neither quite sure what to say to the other.

Tommy knows Techno wants him to be Theseus.

Tommy also knows that Techno wants the best for him , for Tommy, not Theseus, he wants the best for Tommy, and… Tommy thinks this is the best for him, to quit, and if Techno doesn’t understand that—

Then Tommy can’t do anything to change his mind.

“You want the best for me?”

Techno nods.

“This is the best fo me.”

Techno is quiet for a few more moments, “I know. I know that this is and I hate that I know it is.”

“Do you want me to keep being Theseus?”

“I want a Theseus,” Techno continues, “Not you— but then that takes away from what makes Theseus, Theseus and— it’s so fucking complicated.”

“I can keep being—”

“No,” Techno screws up his face, “Don’t do something that’s actively harming your mental health because I want the idea of a Theseus, someone who represents Logstedchire, that’s dumb as fuck.”

“Okay…”

“Take care of yourself,” Techno says, “Alright?”

Tommy huffs, “Fineeee.”

Another moment of silence, it doesn’t feel quite comfortable not quite uncomfortable, it’s something that’s not quite either.

There’s a noise from outside and Techno sighs.

“I have a party to attend to,” Techno sighs, “There’s a cake that needs to be organised.”

“Do you have to leave?” Tommy asks.

“Tommy—”

“I just… a couple more moments? Please, I just need to calm down. I missed you and—”

Techno doesn’t say anything else.

It’s weird, being able to sit in someone else’s company and feel at home, Tommy… is still getting used to the feeling, there’s plenty of people he can sit in silence with and still feel heard. Purpled is one, Tubbo was another, and hopefully he will be one again.

But it’s nice.

Just for a moment they have no responsibilities and Tommy can sit with his brother.

“Tell me something dumb,” Techno says.

“Kung Fu Panda edits slap.”

“Well that’s not dumb, that’s just a fact.”

Tommy snorts, “You can’t put metal in the microwave.”

“Tommy…”

“Shut up.”

“Tommy…”

“Look. No one told me that.”

“It’s common sense?”

“It’s not,” Tommy argues, “Why would metal react to it?”

“Electrons.”

“I can’t hear you.”

Techno snorts, “Alright, Microwave man, I have a cake to organise. C’mon. Be social.”

“I hate being social.”

Techno just rolls his eyes, picking up Tommy not too dissimilar to the way someone would a toddler who’s having a tantrum and laying on the floor.

Tommy is placed on his feet and he glares at Techno.

Techno glares back at him.

“You’re like an angry cat.”

“Oh— yeah,” Tommy says, looking down at his feet. “Uh— funny story actually, really funny story. My powers don’t work anymore.”

A moment of stunned silence.

“Where’s the punchline?”

Tommy just gives Techno a smile.

“Tommy… where’s the punchline?”

Then Tommy, very maturely, sprints out of the room.

He swings the door open, before bolting down the stairs.

“Come back you little shit!” Techno yells after him, “What do you mean— oh you clever fuck.”

Tommy skids across the floor the way that a dramatic child would— 

Then barrels directly into Phil.

Phil hits the ground, and Tommy stumbles backwards.

From the floor Phil stares up at him, “Hey, Tommy.”

“Hello,” Tommy offers him a hand and drags Phil onto his feet.

Phil looks… like Phil, he somehow looks more tired since Tommy saw him, the bags under his eyes are a little bit bigger and the wrinkles on his forehead are a little more creased, he’s wearing a…

Button-up-shirt with toucans on it.

And cargo shorts.

Holy shit, this man is a father.

Phil gives Tommy a tired smile, “Hello.”

“Where’s Wilbur?”

“Doing Wilbur things,” Phil says, “I think he’s talking to one of Niki’s friends—”

“He’s talking to Kristin!” Aimsey says brightly from behind him, “You are being thoroughly embarrassed right now.”

Tommy, with great glee, gets to watch the disappointed expression on Phil’s face, and he manages to watch Phil speedrun the stages of grief, perhaps invent some new ones along the way, before hitting acceptance.

“Oi!” Techno yells, and Tommy doesn’t even turn around, instead raising a hand and flipping Techno off, without even facing him. “Phil, Tommy, I need you in the kitchen. Guard the cake! Don’t let anyone in.”

“When did he put the cake in the—”

“Don’t ask,” Phil stage-whispers to Tommy.

Tommy considers this for a moment, before turning around to flip off Techno. 

This time with two hands.

Techno doesn’t hesitate before doing the exact same thing.

So there they are.

Two brothers just… flipping each other off.

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck off.”

“Why are we cussing each other out?” Wilbur asks, turning a corner, he glances from Techno to Tommy. “Do I have to pick a side?”

“Yes.” Tommy says.

“No,” Techno says at the same time.

Wilbur sighs, before walking over in Techno’s direction and flipping off Tommy. “Sorry Toms, what sorta older brother would I be if I didn’t team up on the youngest. So fuck you Tommy.”

“Fuck the lotta ya,” Tommy says, huffing before walking towards the kitchen, “I hate ya all, I hope you fuckin’ bang your heads you fuckin’ clobberpot, wanker, assholes.”

“Dear Prime,” Techno mutters, “He’s gone full Logsted.”

“I’ll go full fuckin’ Logsted when I hit your head into the pavement you—”

Phil grabs him, before leading him into the kitchen.

Wilbur and Techno cackle as he’s dragged off.

Tommy gets into the kitchen, and Phil looks at him.

“It’s a little bit funny,” Tommy defends.

“Oh, it’s hilarious, I have never heard your accent that strong. Impressed that Wilbur and Techno ganging up on you is what made that happen.”

Tommy just huffs, sitting up on the bench across from the cake.

The cake is a nice one. It’s two layers, which Tommy thinks is incredibly impressive and he has no idea how Techno travelled that, or if someone made it or— what is going on there. It’s a white cake, which has… what might be sugar flowers on the top.

On the side of it, in handwriting that is clearly Techno’s it says.

‘Happy Birthday Niki’ but the ‘ay’ of the birthday is much smaller than the rest of it, which makes Tommy snort and glance at Phil who is looking through the cupboards.

“Heard Theseus has gone missing?” Phil asks.

Tommy pauses, squinting at Phil, “I mean— last couple times he was out were fuckin’ terrible for everyone involved. Make sense that he’d go under the radar, only an idiot wouldn’t.”

“Theseus doesn’t seem like the brightest.”

“He’s not,” Tommy says, “Why are we talking about Theseus? He’s been gone, problem is gone— it’s such a boring conversation topic. Yeah, it’s a boy in a mask fucking things up for everyone involved.”

Phil grabs a bag of chips and a bowl. Pouring most of the bag into the bowl then putting it on the counter between them. 

“Just wanna know what you think, you liked Theseus a lot earlier on, has that changed or—”

“Yeah,” Tommy laughs out bitterly, “I— I want him gone.”

Phil’s eyes go wide, “Tommy that’s a shit thing to say— he’s your age.”

“I don’t care,” Tommy snaps, “I want Theseus gone. Locked up— missing, I don’t care I just want him gone.”

“Since when did you hate Theseus?”

“Feels like forever,” Tommy spits out. “I want him gone… not— not dead, I just want him gone. To disappear into the ground and never come back.”

Phil gives him a sad look, leaning against the counters, “It’s an awful thing to say about a kid.”

“I know you’ve said worse,” Tommy spits, “How come you and Wilbur are allowed to hate Theseus and the second I do, for similar reasons, I reckon, I get berated for it.”

A boy can’t even insult his own vigilante persona in this political climate.

Phil looks at him for a long moment, there’s something gentle in his eyes. It’s different to the gentleness that Wilbur and Techno have for him, and Tommy can’t decide if he hates it or wants nothing more than the care on Phil’s face to always be there.

“You’re better than us, kid,” Phil says easily as if he’s known these words all along. “I’m not sure if you know that or not. But you’re better than all of us have ever been, braver, smarter, probably stronger— and it hurts to see you talk like this.”

Tommy looks down at his shoes, they have a scuff mark on the edge, and part of the sole is slipping away from the toe of the shoe, but it is what it is. He’ll get new shoes when the rest of it peels away.

“You seem to really hate him,” Phil says, his voice is still remarkably gentle, “And—”

“Maybe I don’t wanna be better,” Tommy snaps, “Because it’s all I keep seeming to get told, ‘you’re better than us,’ as if that excuses your shit behaviour and means I’m not allowed to be a shit person too sometimes, newsflash, I’m not a super nice person Phil. And don’t even try cut me off, I know I’m not.”

“You’re a teenager,” Phil returns, “Most teenagers think they’re some sort of greater evil when you’re just a kid.”

“You dunno shit about me Phil,” Tommy barks back, “Don’t even try—”

“No, but I’ve raised two legally and like three more emotionally, I’m not completely stupid when it comes to teenagers. And I know it’s not the same, but I can promise you that you’re not the big evil you’ve made yourself out to be in your head.”

Tommy snorts.

If only Phil knew.

“My kids don’t spend time around bad people, Tommy,” Phil says, “They did once upon a time, and they are so careful to not make that mistake again. They spend time with people they trust— they hire people who they have a good feeling about.”

Tommy just glares. 

Phil sighs, “Look, I’m not saying you’re perfect. But I can assure you no matter what you’ve done, you’re not the monster you’ve decided you are. You’re a pretty standard teenager, and I’m not sure if you have pretty standard problems but—”

Tommy just crosses his arms, looking at Phil.

“You’re not the evil person who you think you are, you’re sixteen. Sixteen years olds… aren’t really evil, they don’t do homework and manipulate people sometimes to get what they want, it’s a part of brain development.”

“You’re a part of brain development,” Tommy mumbles.

“I mean, a responsible guardian figure is good for brain development.”

“You are not my responsible guardian figure, if anyone gets that title it’s Techno and— he’s also Techno.”

Phil laughs, leaning back slightly, “You’re not evil Tommy.”

“Evil is a very strong word.”

“You’re not a bad person.”

“Bad people do bad things.”

“Bad people don’t feel guilty about those things, bad people think about their actions and still go through with them. You are not a bad person Tommy, I will promise you that much. You’re just young, and you might do bad things but you're a human.”

Tommy frowns.

“Not some larger-than-life figure, not— someone who is in charge of keeping everyone else happy. You’re a kid, alright? And I think you keep forgetting that, because you hold yourself to impossibly high standards and when you don’t reach them you fall into a depth of… self-loathing, maybe… I dunno.”

Tommy shrugs.

“Tommy, you ask of yourself things adults don’t handle alone. Our PR alone, and I know there are issues at home and I’m not going to pry into that because I know Techno and Wilbur sometimes pry too much. But— you’re handling things entire teams of people handled a few months ago.”

“It’s easy enough—”

“Tommy,” Phil says gently, “If it’s all too much, you can tell us, right?”

And Tommy almost wants to burst out crying from those words because yes , yes it’s all too much and it was all too much a long time ago. 

He’s gotten to the point where breathing hurts. He doesn’t know how to exist outside of the identity he gave himself because he felt powerless when he was thirteen and Tubbo is back in his life. Everything is too much and he really wants to go home but he doesn’t know where home is anymore—

Tommy smiles, and he hopes it reaches his eyes, “I’m good. I have it under control, life’s been chill at the moment.”

He doesn’t really know who he is and he’s been lying for so long that it’s all going to catch up and he wants to take care of himself but he doesn’t even know how to start doing that and he’s probably the reason Techno and Wilbur are going to be tense with each other for a long time and he just…

Just doesn’t know what to do.

It became all too much long ago, and he doesn’t even know what to call this level of ‘too-muchness’.

It feels like drowning.

It feels like drowning but just before you hit the bottom of the pool or the lake or whatever it is, you think someone will save you but no one has saved you before, so you’re left with the muffled noises all around and the water going into your lungs.

But you’ve been drowning for so long that the water in your lungs is something that you’re used to and yeah you’re drowning but…

Tommy’s been drowning for a while.

But nothing’s happened yet.

So is he really drowning at all?

“Toms?” Phil asks.

Tommy snaps out of it, looking at Phil, “Huh, sorry, what?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Tommy’s eyes dart to the door, where Wilbur is leaning against the doorway, eyes slightly narrowed as he looks at Tommy. “Oh, look, the lumberjack.”

Wilbur rolls his eyes. “This lumberjack is here to move a cake. Phil, can you give me a hand? If I drop this Techno might actually turn me into a fillet.”

Phil and Wilbur move the cake slowly, and Tommy watches them shuffle along and watches with amusement as he watches the panic every time they get even slightly close to knocking it over.

Tommy walks out into where there’s a large table set up, and everyone is standing. Niki has her eyes closed and is holding onto Techno’s shoulder.

“Did you make it?” Niki asks.

“Tech and I did it!” Aimsey says brightly, “By that I mean I bossed Techno around for like three hours before coming here, it was amazing. I would recommend. He got to do some of the icing—”

Wilbur and Phil place the cake down and slide it into the middle.

Tommy keeps back, he doesn’t… want to do any of this, not right now. He’ll sing and clap and whatever, but he doesn’t want to be in the centre of it the way that the rest of them are.

Niki opens her eyes, grinning as she sees the slightly wonky ‘Happy Birthday Niki’.

“Happy birthday to you—” everyone starts in perhaps the most monotone and helpless voice that Tommy has ever heard, the way that happy birthday is supposed to be sung.

There feels like there’s something fake in the way that Tommy joins in with everyone else, singing and clapping when Niki manages to blow out all twenty candles in one go because of course she does.

They eat the cake, it’s fine… Tommy’s heart isn’t in this anymore.

He wants to go home.

Maybe this is why he never went to any parties.

After the cake, everyone decides that because they’re all nerds the best thing to do is play video games and eat the pizza that has been ordered, and as far as parties Tommy has been to (like three) this one is pretty good.

And while Tommy feels off, and not quite… himself he is glad for one thing.

And that is being able to demolish Aimsey in Mario Kart.

“You fuck!” Aimsey yells as Tommy demolishes everyone in Mario Kart for the fifth time in a row.

Tommy hands the controller back to Wilbur who grins at him, reaching out and ruffling his hair. 

“This is why you have little brothers, everyone.” Wilbur announces to the room.

“That’s your brother?” Someone asks.

Someone being… someone that Tommy doesn’t know, Tommy doesn’t actually know most of the people here, he thinks some are from Niki’s bakery, some are from field hockey, some are probably from high school or whatever…

Tommy barely knows any of these people. He knows Kristin and Aimsey, but he barely knows Aimsey and Kristin and Phil have been talking about… types of fish all night, because old people flirting is weird.

Wilbur grins, “That’s him.”

“Adopted.” Techno adds darkly, “We are not responsible for his upbringing. He’s just like that.”

That gets a couple of laughs and Tommy just glares at Techno.

It’s nice though, thrashing people in video games and then being able to sit next to Wilbur and whisper snide comments about other people around them, that really is the highlight of the entire thing.

Tommy hasn’t done a lot of these social events before, not ones where he wasn’t busy but now he’s sitting here.

Oh. Boy.

He hates to be dramatic, but it is possible he is having the worst time, it feels too hot, everyone is too loud and he hates the music being played. He’s second-guessing everything he’s said ever and—

He is aware, that’s a very standard teenage experience.

Well, he thinks so.

He hasn’t had many of those to base that off of.

But he hates it.

He has decided he hates being in a room with several people he doesn’t know, where he only knows like… four people. One of those is having a birthday and not overly concerned with Tommy, the other he met one time, one is Techno whose idea of social interaction is just insulting Wilbur and Tommy, and Wilbur who… is very invested in Mario Kart.

Can he leave?

He would like to leave.

Instead of doing that, he watches the TV as Wilbur loses dramatically at Mario Kart, and one of Niki’s friends who Tommy doesn’t know but she is sitting on the other side of Tommy, wins, trash-talking enough for everyone.

Tommy would very, very, very much like to leave.

Niki and him catch eyes, with Niki being on the beanbag, she looks at Tommy, tilting her head slightly.

‘You okay?’ She mouths.

Tommy glances to the side to make sure Wilbur isn’t watching him, then back at Niki, “No.” He signs. He starts bouncing his leg and Niki squints at him for a moment. Tommy can’t even find it within himself to sign any more than that.

Niki stands up, “I’m gonna need Tommy,” she says and grabs Tommy by the wrist, dragging him up onto his feet and dragging him out of the area. 

Like Techno had only a few hours before, she drags Tommy up the stairs, but this time Tommy actually walks, rather than having to be carried.

Niki stops in the middle of the hallway, looking at Tommy with gentle eyes that she has. She pauses for a moment, tilting her head. “You alright?”

“The fuck is that?” Someone asks.

Niki cranes her head to look at the person talking to them. Tommy doesn’t even bother to look up, just staring at the wall in front of him.

“Fuck off Aster,” Niki snaps, “He’s overwhelmed, fuck right off—”

Aster sighs, with a roll of his eyes before climbing down the stairs, flipping Niki off as they go.

Niki apparently doesn’t care at all, because she sighs and looks at Tommy. “You doin’ alright?”

“I think— everything has just… hit me at once.” Tommy says blankly, “Like— holy fuck.”

“Like socially or—”

“Everything,” Tommy says quietly, “Just— everything, these last couple of months. My childhood— everything is just—”

“Alright, I think you’re overwhelmed,” Niki says, “And that’s alright.”

“I feel like Techno gets like this.”

“Techno lives in a state of being overwhelmed, it’s not good for him,” Niki says, she reaches behind her before grabbing her phone. “Pop the case on and off, it helps me focus and uh— I don’t have anything else on me.”

Tommy takes Niki’s phone.

Sure enough, he pops the case on and off.

It’s a bit calming doing that, being able to have the routine motion. “You should go downstairs, I don’t want to ruin your night.”

“You aren’t,” Niki says, “What would ruin my night is if you were having a bad time. I don’t mind sitting here for a bit, they’ll survive without me.”

“Happy twentieth,” Tommy says.

“When’s your birthday?” Niki asks.

Tommy looks back down at the phone case, “Well, the one on my birth certificate is in April… uh— my actual one is soon.”

“Soon! Oh that’s exciting, how soon?”

Tommy shrugs a little, “Uh, that’s kinda— I don’t really share that. It’s soon though… it’s the twenty-forth right?”

Niki nods.

“Yeah. Soon,” Tommy just shrugs slightly before leaning back against the wall, looking up slightly. 

He keeps on popping the case on and off and looking down at his hands as Niki just sits next to him quietly.

Niki and him are both quiet.

“Is it alright?” Tommy asks, “Being twenty? Being older— I dunno.”

“It’s nice,” Niki says, she tilts her head back and looks up at the ceiling, “Knowing who you are? Starting to figure it out… I’m only twenty I dunno a lot about… well a lot, but I’m starting to figure it out, I might not for years but… yeah.”

“The twenty-year-olds I know don’t know jackshit.”

“And I’m one of them,” Niki says, “No one really knows anything— not really, just a bunch of teenagers trying to figure it out, finding their place in the world. Sometimes that’s hard, sometimes that’s easy but— it’ll be alright.”

“Huh?”

“Everything, it’ll be alright one day,” Niki says, “The grief… the loss, everything will be okay one day. Probably not like— tomorrow, but hopefully one day you’re able to wake up and… you know you’ll be okay.”

Tommy huffs, dropping the phone between Niki and himself.

“I don’t know who I am.”

Niki glances at him for a second, “Me neither.”

“You seem like you have it together, if only slightly.”

“Prime no,” Niki laughs, “No… trust me, I do not.”

“Is it scary?” Tommy asks.

“Is what?”

“I dunno— everything, living on your own terms, anything—”

“Nah,” Niki stretches her legs out in front of her, “Well, yes, terrifying but… worth it. It’s all worth it, I think. I’ve been the happiest this year than I have most of my life— and maybe the second half of this year will be awful, but I had this good part and— that was nice. Have to let yourself enjoy the good parts.”

“You’re very wise.”

“Comes with the age.”

“You’re like three years older than me.”

Niki smiles at that, before moving so she’s fully laying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Tommy finds himself laying on the floor as well.

It must look stupid for anyone who’s not them, two idiots staring up at the roof, but it’s quiet, the noises of the party are muffled, as are the noises of Wilbur dramatically losing at Mario Kart.

For a moment… things feel almost peaceful.

Then it starts raining.

First a little pitter patter that Tommy barely notices, but as they lay their in the silence the rain gets louder until it’s slamming into the roof and the house and against the window with a lot of ferocity.

Tommy can’t see any windows, but he knows the rain is heavy against them.

Niki eventually sits up, “I should probably go back down…”

“Yeah…” Tommy says quietly, “Probably smart.”

Niki watches him for a few moments, “It’ll be alright though kid, just— all of it. It’s never as bad as it looks once you’re through it.”

“I guess.”

Niki gets up onto her feet, “I’ll save you some pizza.”

“Thanks,” Tommy mumbles.

And she leaves.

And Tommy is left alone, with only the sounds of the rain to comfort him as it hits into the house, it’s probably windy outside as well.

Then Tommy has what is probably a terrible idea.

He stands up, looking around for anyone around him, there’s no one.

Then he walks into Techno’s old room, before approaching the window.

Sure enough rain is slamming against the window, and sure enough, Techno’s window opens up onto a section of roofing. Meaning Tommy can sit there and… live his best life. Enjoy the rain on his skin.

He barely hesitates as he opens the window.

Yes, there is now rain on the carpet.

Tommy finds that he doesn’t care too much, and Techno probably won’t either.

Being careful so he doesn’t slip, he steps out through the window on the other side, before carefully closing the window and standing on the tiles. He holds onto the side of the house before lowering himself.

Now he is sitting on a roof.

It buckets down around him, and Tommy can’t help but be reminded of when Wilbur and him sat up here for Fundy’s party— ah. 

Yup. Tommy is going to ignore that and try not to think about Fundy.

It’s quiet up here, Tommy can almost think.

He also knows he’s cold, with both the wind and the rain and he doesn’t care too much. Just hugs his arms closer to him.

Honestly, he has no clue how long he’s up here for, his phone is on the inside of his incredibly not waterproof jacket pocket and he doesn’t want to get it out because of… well the rain.

He’s cold but not really.

And he’s comfortable out here, listening to the rain and feeling it on his skin.

He’s out here for a while, that’s about all that Tommy knows, but he’s alone and he likes it that way.

There’s a noise, and Tommy looks over.

It’s Wilbur, standing on a ladder with his head peeking over the shingles to look at Tommy with a similar expression to how someone would look at a wet cat.

“Fuck off.” Tommy mumbles, “I like being alone.”

Wilbur pauses for a few moments, tilting his head, “True, but sometimes all of us need someone around.”

Tommy doesn’t respond, and Wilbur takes that as permission to stay.

“It’s raining,” Wilbur says softly.

Tommy looks up from his gaze on the skyline, he’s not used to seeing it from Upper L’Manberg, it looks… so much cleaner, it looks nicer, like the rough edges have been taken off and replaced with some sort of refined look.

There’s no texture in the lights that Tommy can see, they’re all the same colour and brightness and—

“Yeah,” Tommy murmurs, “It’s raining.”

Wilbur clambers onto the rooftop, arms out either side of him as he balances.

The shuffling footsteps get closer towards Tommy until Wilbur’s standing next to him. “The city looks nice.”

“Looks neat,” Tommy responds.

The rain bounces against the shingles around them.

Anyone in their right mind would go inside, but it appears that neither Wilbur nor Tommy are in their right mind.

Wilbur sits down next to him.

“How are you feeling?” Wilbur asks gently.

“How are your injuries?” Tommy returns, the bruise on Wilbur’s face has faded a lot, and his lip is still healing.

Wilbur glances down at his wrist, still in the cast, before he looks up at Tommy. “I’m good, doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Tommy nods, laying down more so he’s looking up at the sky rather than anything else. It’s completely dark out, and the rain is bucketing around them, Tommy’s clothes are stuck to his body and his hair is plastered against his head.

It can’t be his strongest look.

Wilbur, at least, brought a coat, which seems pretty rainproof, instead only his hair is stuck to his head.

He seems to notice this at the same time, “Here take my coat—”

“Already soaked,” Tommy mutters, “Keep the coat.”

Wilbur hesitates for a few seconds, before figuring that must be for the best.

They sit in silence, the rain bouncing on the roof and tumbling off the side of the roof, onto the ground. Tommy swipes some hair out of his face and looks up at Wilbur who is watching the skyline.

“Wil?” Tommy asks.

“Yeah?”

Silence.

A long moment of something that stretches between them, Tommy has no idea what to call it, whether that’s trust or something else that he doesn’t know how to put into words.

“Is it ever worth it?” Tommy asks.

Wilbur looks at him, eyes narrowed and face contorted in confusion. “Is what worth it?”

“All of it,” Tommy says.

He wants to look up at the stars but the light pollution here is awful, and rain will get in his eyes. All that meets him is the black void of space above him, devoid of any stars, only the odd satellite. 

“Just— everything.” He finishes.

Wilbur looks at him for a few moments. “Always. There’s— music, and there’s…” Wilbur laughs shaking his head, “There’s just existing in your own space, figuring out who you are and laughing with friends and just living.”

Tommy pauses for a few seconds, “You do music?”

“Prime no,” Wilbur shakes his head, “Used to… got pretty good at it.”

“Why’d you stop?”

Wilbur pauses for a moment, “Uh— got depressed, is the short answer. Just… didn’t find the energy to pick up a guitar again, and I’ve never… really brought myself to pick it up again, feels like a relic of… someone I could be if that makes sense?”

“I used to be really good a chess,” Tommy murmurs, drawing his knees up to his chest as he sits up. “I did one competition and bet a seventy-year-old man and I was banned from chess competitions after that.”

“Who taught you how to play?”

“Guardian,” Tommy murmurs, “Uh… took care of me before I was emancipated. He taught me how to play chess and punch people in the throat.”

“He sounds cool.”

“He— yeah,” Tommy nods, “He was.”

Wilbur doesn’t push it, and Tommy is glad for that.

“And I just never… started playing again, I just never could y’know, it felt like it hurt too much? All of my dumb tricks were taught to me by this one person, and this one person isn’t around anymore.”

He misses Deo.

He misses Deo a lot.

“Phil has a chess board I reckon,” Wilbur says, nudging him in the shoulder with a smile. “Techno’s pretty good at chess, I can sorta play and Phil just plays checkers with the pieces.”

Tommy shakes his head.

Wilbur seems to understand.

The rain buckets around them, but Tommy barely notices the cold on his skin.

“You should try guitar again,” Tommy says, “Play me a song.”

“Only on a special occasion.”

“Tomorrow is a special occasion.”

Wilbur laughs, checking his phone and getting probably a bit too much water on it, “You mean in seventeen minutes? What happens in seventeen— no sixteen minutes that is worthy of me picking up my guitar?”

Tommy hums thoughtfully, “Another day I’m alive.”

“I mean…” Wilbur grabs Tommy by the shoulder, “Could shove you off the roof.”

“At least kick me off the roof, man,” Tommy says, “I’m not second to Theseus, I’m also a threat!”

Wilbur just laughs, “Tommy you are about as dangerous as a duck with a sunflower.”

“Ducks can be quite vicious.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“They can!” Tommy says with a nod of his head, “Trust me! I’ve had to fight some dangerous ducks at Tnret Park, they’re dangerous I’m telling you, they want your chips, Wilbur, those are my chips!”

“You mean fries?”

“No. I mean chips .”

“You’re so weird,” Wilbur murmurs under his breath, and Tommy frowns at him.

“Play a song for me,” Tommy says, poking Wilbur in the arm. “I know there will be a guitar in Phil’s, probably like in your old room or something.”

Wilbur frowns, “What song would you want?”

“You’re gonna play for me?”

“Hypothetically,” Wilbur corrects calmly, “Hypothetically would you want to hear?”

“Dunno,” Tommy says, he pauses, “Something you wrote… maybe? I dunno, anything, I guess. Just— something that feels like you, whatever you want to be. Not what Phil thinks you are or what Techno wants you to be… just something that you are, a song that is you.”

Wilbur looks at him, mouth open. “Why are you a wise, young child?”

Tommy smiles, “Somebody has to be, with all my big, big man plans.”

“Oh yeah, and what are these plans?” Wilbur asks, leaning back against the roof so he’s laying down, looking up.

Tommy pauses. “Maybe film…” he trails off, “I dunno, it’s dumb. I just want to— create y’know? I want to make something out of nothing and I want to create art, it can be shitty art, but I want to create.”

Another moment of silence.

Wilbur smiles softly, leaning towards Tommy and nudging his shoulder,  “Last time I asked you, you didn’t have an answer.”

“Huh?” Tommy says.

“Last time I asked you about your future plans… you didn’t have any,” Wilbur continues with a small smile, “You have one now.”

Tommy laughs, shaking his head, “It’s an idea, not a plan.”

Wilbur shrugs, “You have something.”

“I don’t think I will anyway, university— film school especially would cost too much.”

“I can help out.”

“Wilbur,” Tommy gives him a look, “Be for real, that’s way too much money.”

Wilbur just looks at him for a long moment, “Tommy I am the biggest trust fund baby who has ever trust funded, me paying for your education would barely make a dent and I could buy like— an absurd amount of yachts.”

Tommy looks at him, “Since when did you become fucking self-aware?”

Wilbur sighs, “Yeah working on it,” he pauses for a moment, “Tommy it’s really not too much if you need help for university, I can help out, easily, even just on my hero’s wage. Call it… your inheritance.”

“Inheritance?”

“Yeah!” Wilbur says brightly, “Your grandma’s, cousin’s, daughter’s, best friend died and suddenly you have a bunch of money… looks like you can go to film school now…” Wilbur pauses for a few moments, “If you want to, of course.”

“But I don’t wanna leave you, and Techno and Phil…” Tommy mumbles, “Think you’d fall apart without me.”

Wilbur seems to consider this for a moment, a comfortable silence falling around them. The trees rustle around them and Tommy thinks he can hear cicadas in the distance.

“Staying means nothing if you can’t leave,” Wilbur says gently.

Tommy lets the words absorb into him, he thinks about them for a moment before looking at Wilbur for a few more moments, eyes narrowed slightly.

Huh.

“If you want to go to uni, or CNL or— wherever, you can go. None of us is going to stop you, and if we do— then you should punch us. You’re allowed to stop working for SBI Tommy, especially if you’re not happy doing it.”

Tommy hugs his legs up to his chest. “I’m happy.”

Wilbur looks at him for a long moment, and it feels like Wilbur just… sees him, he’s not used to Wilbur being able to do that. To almost see through Tommy and everything inside his soul. 

“You don’t seem happy,” Wilbur says.

And oh, if that doesn’t hit the nail on the head.

Tommy pauses, “I’m not… not happy.”

“You’re not happy either,” Wilbur continues, “Being not, not happy isn’t the same. You just seem… you seem depressed Tommy.”

Tommy just looks up at him, “I’m tired. That’s all.”

Wilbur looks at him for a long moment, “I said that for a long time too,” Wilbur adds absentmindedly, “About three years, I kept telling everyone I was just tired, low energy, that I’d bounce back. I didn’t bounce back Tommy, instead—” Wilbur cuts himself off. “I am not trauma dumping on a sixteen-year-old.”

Tommy manages a smile at that. “You can tell me about your deepest fears in alphabetical order.”

“Anteaters,” Wilbur says, “Uh… small spaces. Really small dogs… Floof.”

“Do you know your alphabet?”

Wilbur pauses, seemingly thinking about this. “Nope!”

Tommy rolls his eyes, “Is it my go?”

“Sure.”

“Uh…” Tommy hums, “Heights. That’s it.”

“You’re only scared of heights?” Wilbur asks, laughing a little. “Nothing else.”

“Nope. Not a single thing,” Tommy lies, “Being abandoned, no big deal. Hospitals? I cope super well with those.”

“You don’t like hospitals?” Wilbur asks.

Tommy gives him a look, “I’d end up in one every time my parents beat the shit outta me,” Tommy deadpans, “Don’t really… associate anything non-traumatic with them.”

Wilbur stares at him, “I—”

“Come up with a response,” Tommy grins.

“The fuck am I supposed to say to that?”

“Skill issue?”

Wilbur throws his head back and laughs, pushing Tommy playfully, “You’re dumb.”

“ You’re dumb.”

“You’re even dumber than dumb, you’re the most dumb person to ever dumb.”

“Most dumb isn’t a word,” Tommy returns, nudging Wilbur’s shoulder with his own and Wilbur just rolls his eyes, nudging him back, “The correct phrasing would be dumbest .”

“I’m getting grammar lessons from a teenager.”

“One of us finished high school.”

“I— technically graduated.”

“You probably don’t even know how to do long division.”

“No one fucking knows how to do long division,” Wilbur says, before laying backwards on the roof, which seems a bit dumb considering how slippery the roof is. “Seriously, just use a calculator, everyone always has their phones on them.”

“But it’s a flex to say you can do long division.”

“Is it?”

“It is!”

Wilbur just huffs, before glancing at Tommy. “You’re important to me.”

Tommy glances at him, meeting his eyes. “Okay?”

“I think you need to hear it, you’re important to me, and I’m glad you’re in my life.. And it’s all worth it, this whole life thing,” Wilbur says, “For so long I thought it wasn’t but— it is.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“It is,” Wilbur says again and the look on his face is… one Tommy doesn’t think he could describe even if he wanted to, it’s just… gentle and caring while being sure of itself and Tommy doesn’t want to do anything that means Wilbur won’t look at him with the same care he is right now. 

“Alright? Trust me, I’m an old, wise man.”

“You’re not that old.”

“I’m twenty-five.” Wilbur deadpans.

“That’s not really that old,” Tommy says gently.

Wilbur rolls his eyes, looking out across the darkened city in front of them, “How do we keep ending up on rooftops talking at Phil’s house? If I had a dollar—”

Tommy just side-eyes Wilbur.

“Alright, alright,” Wilbur laughs.

A moment of silence.

And Tommy doesn’t know when the silence started getting comfortable with Wilbur, he’s not sure when the silence didn’t have to be filled with endless chatter to be worth something, and the silence around them is… nice.

The silence is nice.

A few moments pass.

“I have something for you,” Wilbur says quietly.

Tommy looks at him, screwing up his nose. “Huh?”

Wilbur hesitates for a moment, before reaching into his coat pocket and bringing out a box. “We all have one… Phil, Techno and I,” Wilbur says, “And— I asked Phil about it, and then I asked Techno about it.”

“Huh?” Tommy says again, “What do you actually mean?”

Wilbur sighs, “I have a brooch thing with an emerald on it, Techno has a necklace, we both wore them to the gala. Phil has like an earring because something about avians and stuff… and we thought we could get you one.”

Tommy just stares at him, mouth open.

“Techno said I could have the honours of giving you the SBI bracelet and— finally telling you what SBI stands for.”

“You mean it doesn’t stand for Salty Bitches Incorporated?”

Wilbur just laughs, rolling his eyes, “No, it stands for… Sleepy Bois Incorporated.”

Tommy blinks at him, “Salty Bitches Incorporated is much funnier. And much more accurate, why are you all— why are you all sleep deprived?”

Wilbur laughs, “It was our first proper mission together as a team, Phil was in charge, I was still a trainee in my final stages, and Techno was about halfway through, so they figured we were fine to send out. They sent us out on a stakeout.”

Tommy smiles, he can see the memory in his head. Those images of Wilbur and Techno from when they were younger, all sitting somewhere, incredibly bored, maybe eating snacks as well.

“It ended up being a thirty-six-hour event,” Wilbur laughs, “We were exhausted— but we did it, and then the press found us and asked us about our group name because we were the first group they’d seen in a while and—”

“Let me guess? Techno responded?”

“It was Phil, actually,” Wilbur smiles and it’s so incredibly fond and wistful, “He looked the reporters in the eyes and said SBI since we’d been laughing about being the Sleepy Bois for about an hour before.”

Tommy laughs, leaning against Wilbur, “That’s so dumb.”

“We’re a dumb group of people.”

“Techno’s smart,” Tommy defends.

“Sure,” Wilbur mutters, he reaches inside his coat pocket and grabs out a small little box, which seems to be the bracelet.

The rain is still bucketing down around them, in Tommy’s eyes and hair, but for some reason, it’s almost like the rain doesn’t exist. Just the dim light of the streetlamp the street over, and the moonlight.

Wilbur presses the box into Tommy’s hand.

They look at each other for a moment, “Why now?”

“Why not?” Wilbur returns.

It seems fair enough, and Tommy puts it on his lap, managing to shield it with his body as much as he can. No rain gets on it, so Tommy thinks he’s done a pretty good job at it.

In the box, is a beaded bracelet, sure enough.

There are six beads on it, with an emerald gem in the middle that Tommy stares at. It reflects the light well.

In the middle is an emerald charm, with two red beads on either side of it. One of the beads has a chip in it, but Tommy’s not sure if he’s supposed to notice that. He runs a thumb over the chipped bead.

On one side of the emerald is a pink and purple beads, and on the other are yellow and green beads. 

The rest, which takes up most of the bracelet are black completely. Although one has a little line of gold through what looks like a crack in it.

“There are five colours,” Tommy says weakly, “There’s only three— well four people including me, in SBI.”

“Look at the colours,” Wilbur laughs, “Try to figure it out.”

“Well… you’re probably yellow, and Phil is green. Techno is… probably pink and I’m red. So that just leaves the purple charm.”

“Techno talked to Daniel,” Wilbur adds gently, “He’s not like— a proper part, he doesn’t have a bracelet or necklace or earring or a brooch, but… he’s on yours because it feels a bit like a crime to not include Daniel on your bracelet.”

Tommy smiles, eyes on the purple bead. “That’s so—” 

The great thing about rain is that no one can see if Tommy cries.

And yeah.

He cries.

Over a stupid fucking bracelet, with a couple of beads that represent some of the people most important to him.

“Do you have one?” Tommy asks. “Like— with the beads?”

Wilbur nods, “Uh— well I did, I had a bracelet when I was younger. When it was just Phil and I, it was like— my adoption gift. It had a dark green bead and a dark purple one. I lost that though.”

“When?”

“Uh, warehouse collapse,” Wilbur says, “It broke off and—”

“The what?” Tommy asks, “Warehouse collapse?”

“Oh. You don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?”

“I forget you don’t know,” Wilbur says with a snort, “It really feels like everyone but me knows what happened, and everyone has thoughts about it. I just… forget not everyone knows.”

“About?” Tommy says quietly, nudging Wilbur in the side who doesn’t look away from his eyes on the skyline. “About the warehouse collapse, why is that relevant?”

Wilbur sighs, crossing his arms before glancing at Tommy. “The warehouse collapse is a nicer phrasing for my accident, which is a nicer way of saying a traumatic event.”

Tommy screws up his face, “I dunno about that, no one’s told me about that.”

“When I was fourteen,” Wilbur continues, keeping his voice mechanically even as he looks straight ahead, “Uh— somethin’ happened. Fucked me up for a bit— still kinda fucks me up if I’m being honest.”

Tommy looks at him, tilting his head. “What happened?”

Wilbur’s eyes dart to Tommy, and he pauses for a few moments, “I— I dunno, you’re a kid and it feels mean to trauma dump on a kid.”

Tommy looks at Wilbur for a few moments, giving him the most deadpanned expression in the world.

Wilbur huffs, leaning back slightly, “I dunno Tommy—”

“I was ruthlessly beaten by my parents as a child, and drug abuse was insanely common in the area I lived in and I’m pretty sure I saw someone overdose when I was five years old,” Tommy deadpans, “I can handle it.”

Wilbur looks at him, mildly horrified. “The fuck is wrong with you—”

“So, so, so , much,” Tommy says and Wilbur just stares at him for a few moments, “I’m not trying to push you into telling me— but if you want to, or— need to or whatever I’m listening.”

“Weird,” Wilbur mutters, “Weird telling this on my own terms— normally someone will tell someone else and be like— ‘oh that’s why he’s like that’ and everyone is expected to be nicer to me than they should. Like— I’m a jackass I can handle someone telling me that—”

“You’re not that bad, you’re a bit of a dick but so am I.”

Wilbur sighs, deflating slightly, “Are you— sure you wanna know?”

Tommy pauses for a moment, he… can’t really think of much that would make him see Wilbur differently, if he murdered an innocent person then maybe, but he doesn’t think that’s what happened.

What happened to Wilbur sounds mildly traumatic, considering the amount of mild trauma Tommy has…

He thinks he can handle this.

“If you want to tell me, then sure,” Tommy says.

Wilbur sighs.

A moment of quiet, it’s not quite silence, because Tommy can almost hear Wilbur thinking next to him. He just stares straight ahead as Wilbur pauses, trying to think this entire thing through.

The rain continues around them.

“Have you ever been trapped?” Wilbur asks, and his voice is shaking, “I— don’t mean like in a metaphor way, I mean very literally.”

Tommy just watches him, he shakes his head.

The rain pours around them, and despite it, Tommy is so focused on Wilbur’s voice the rain is just background noise as Wilbur spills his heart out to Tommy.

Wilbur nods, closing his eyes. “When I was younger— I befriended a vigilante, their name was… Eret. They went by Phobos at the time, and she was… my best friend, in the entire world— I struggled with friends as a kid but with Eret it was just like… he understood me. I’m guessing you’ve had those people?”

Tommy’s heart feels frozen in his throat.

“Techno and Eret worked as vigilantes together— I met Eret through Techno,” Wilbur continues, voice even but Tommy can almost see through whatever performance Wilbur’s trying to put up. “Uh— I dunno, she was— incredible I guess. Just really got me, and— yeah I dunno, not many people really get me.”

Tommy tilts his head, “Are they… dead? You’re talking about them like they died.”

Wilbur barks out a laugh, shaking his head, “No— no, not dead just… gone from my life I guess. Techno might hope he’s dead.”

“Techno? But he’s so… not violent?”

Wilbur snorts, “Wasn’t always like that, kid, especially when he thought he was justified.”

“Why was… Eret justified?”

A deep sigh from Wilbur that seems to weigh on his fucking bones, he glances at Tommy and glances away again, closing his eyes.

“Alright,” Wilbur sighs, closing his eyes and trying to steady himself. “Do you know about— phantom hybrids?”

“Uh… they’re rare because it’s a mix of a Vex hybrid and a Dragonite hybrid. Both of those types are super rare already, then phantom is even rarer. Uh— phantom hybrids have wings and can phase through…”

Tommy’s voice cuts itself off.

Wilbur can phase through things.

It feels like he’s been winded as the realisation hits him, all the air expels from his lungs and Tommy can barely breathe as he looks at Wilbur, who just looks at him with… sad, tired eyes, that bore into his very fucking soul.

“I’m… guessing you’re not a Vex hybrid?” Tommy asks breathlessly.

“No.”

“You’re a—”

“Phantom hybrid,” Wilbur finishes, closing his eyes.

“Phantom hybrids have wings.”

Wilbur opens his eyes, looking at Tommy.

He nods.

“What… what happened to you?” Tommy’s breathing isn’t very even, and neither is Wilbur’s.

“That’s— yeah. And uh— I was… fourteen maybe, and Eret asked if we could hang out.” Wilbur seems to have something stuck in his throat, and there are tears in his eyes that threaten to spill.

Tommy just watches Wilbur.

As his expression seems to break itself apart and build itself back together again, and all Tommy can do is watch as Wilbur sits there, hands fiddling with his coat sleeves.

“So… we did, as we always would and— we went to go chill in this building, an abandoned warehouse that we spent so much time in. I’d do homework— fucking hell I was so young, and—”

“Take your time,” Tommy says, and Wilbur looks up at him, “We have all the time in the world.” 

Wilbur manages the weakest smile in the universe.

It’s still a smile though, no matter how small.

Wilbur takes another deep breath.

Then another.

He steadies himself.

“And— we get into the warehouse, I’m holding a fucking ice cream cone.”

“What flavour?” Tommy asks.

That manages to knock Wilbur out of his state and just stares at Tommy in shock for a few moments, “Uh— fuckin’, um. Cookies and cream. Eret had— um, chocolate with brownie mix-ins. Why is that what you focused on?”

“I like ice cream, and you needed to calm down,” Tommy says easily.

“Thank you,” Wilbur whispers, and his voice breaks a little bit.

Another moments of quiet, just filled with the noise of the rain.

“Uh— and I ate my ice cream, it was really good. And then I turn around to look at Eret… they’re… standing in front of me, with tears running down her face, and his hands are shaking…” Wilbur laughs again, and once again there’s no humour in it. 

Tommy’s hands dart up to his mouth, and he covers his mouth.

“They look at me, they apologise. I’m just… paralysed with fear, benefit of their power I guess… I couldn’t move— or even think, and maybe if they weren’t looking me in the eyes I would’ve been okay.”

Tommy just watches, biting the nail on his thumb as he watches Wilbur, his leg bouncing up and down rapidly.

“Then the warehouse explodes around me, I’m thrown to the side… and things land on top of me, all around me. And— I’m trapped. I am trapped in every fucking sense of the word, I can’t— I can’t breathe—” he closes his eyes, “I can’t move and with every breath I take the concrete is pressing in on my lungs.”

“Wilbur…”

“I got thrown a knife, I don’t know— if that was mercy or a taunt from Eret, but it… it was something, I still have the knife,” Wilbur manages to laugh, but there’s no humour in it, just… fucking disgust. “Had it on my hero belt for a while. Sign of how I fucking failed.”

Tommy has his hand over his mouth, as he watches Wilbur, he doesn’t even know what to say. 

People don’t prepare for these situations, and Tommy has no idea how he’s even supposed to react to this.

Instead, he just looks at Wilbur with wide eyes.

“Phantom hybrids can’t phase their wings through things until they’re about eighteen or twenty— because wings are more complicated, and— you just can’t without intense training and so… I could get myself out— easily, I just… couldn’t take all of me with me.”

“No.”

“Yeah. It was my wings or my life. I couldn’t get out, I could phase out but my wings would keep me stuck. I tried… fuck, I tried to get out, I screamed— I hit against the concrete and I screamed my fucking voice raw, I couldn’t talk and— and the concrete was pushing against me and breathing was getting harder so…”

Wilbur stops.

Tommy watches him, before standing up and sitting down on the bed next to him and looking at him, he hopes there’s a level of sincerity in his eyes and Wilbur seems to see something in his eyes.

Wilbur sighs gently, “I can’t—”

“You don’t have to,” Tommy whispers, afraid if he talks much louder he’ll break something completely. “You don’t have to say any of this Wilbur.”

Tommy hates this trust.

He hates this trust, and he knows he’s betrayed the trust Wilbur has for him a thousand times over.

With a deep breath, Wilbur shakes his head, and he must be braver than Tommy will ever be because he keeps talking. “It was either my wings or my life. And I’m sitting here in front of you.”

“Wil…”

“So I cut them off— because I couldn’t phase them through and… I barely thought about it, the consequences barely mattered because— I just wanted to live, I guess. It was that simple.”

Tommy looks at him, and he’s aware that he’s crying, but between the rain and the fact he’s pretty sure, Wilbur is crying as well.

“Just wanted to live, I was fourteen,” Wilbur stares straight ahead, and it’s harder to tell what’s tears and what’s rain, “So I got out. I— I don’t really remember the next bit, I think some civilians who risked themselves for me— I reckon they found me.”

Tommy just watches, he doesn’t know what to say, nothing can make this better. Nothing can even make this hurt slightly less, no matter what he says.

“I was pulled out of the wreckage, blood pouring from my back— I don’t reckon it was pretty and… I guess I passed out, or something, and— never saw Eret.”

“What did that— do to you?” Tommy whispers, “Losing your wings like that?”

Wilbur laughs, something bitter there, “More like what didn’t it do? Trust issues, fear of small spaces, fear of being alone or abandoned, hate the noise of explosions— and did you know, Phantom hybrids for some fuckin’ reason, fucking— brains are fucked, so serotonin is stored in your stomach, but Phantom hybrids have weird stomachs due to a fuckery of genetics so— they store some in their wings.”

Tommy stares at him.

“So I literally cut off one of my biggest supplies of serotonin and left it under a building, which— I reckon says everything you need to know about me. Uh— but yeah, the reason that Phil took me in was my wings. The reason I wasn’t immediately thrown to the foster system or some rich politician who wanted to use me as a trophy child. The reason none of that happened, were my wings and I fucking cut them off.”

“Wil…”

“Funnier part,” Wilbur continues, “So, someone drags me the last few bits, blood spurting from my back, so I go to hospital. Phantom biology is weird, basically— well the doctor’s say I’m trying to grow my wings back, and full Phantoms, back when they were around, they’d basically shut down their bodily functions— I can’t do that, since I am enough human that my life fucking sucks. Meaning my heart kept stopping because my body was trying to go into healing mode.”

Tommy stares at him, because he can’t even think of a response that makes it okay.

“The hero committee took that as a— PR stunt basically,” Wilbur mumbles, his legs hugged tightly against his chest. “Eret was a vigilante… they needed a reason to start going after vigilantes, especially after Techno who had— been a vigilante and shot at the president and gotten away with it. So— they faked my death.”

“What?” Tommy yells.

“Phantom…” Wilbur says, “Not exactly a subtle name, not exactly a subtle cover-up. One of Phil’s trainees, with wings. I hadn’t been seen much in public by then, not as a hero so— they made me, an alive kid, their fucking martyr against vigilantes.”

Tommy just stares at him.

It’s almost poetic, the whole reason Tommy is in trouble with his… vigilante-self is because of Wilbur. Almost something about a circle there, but Tommy doesn’t want to get into it right now.

“Had a funeral and whatever— you might remember it you would’ve been five or six? I dunno what you were doing at that age.”

“A lot of stuff…” Tommy says carefully, “Probably wasn’t… watching the news.”

“Yeah…” Wilbur says quietly, “That— yeah they fucking killed off Phantom, which is also me, and didn’t tell Phil or Techno that I was okay for like— three days because they wanted realistic reactions. Yes, that is a direct quote from good ol’ William Nelson-Jones.”

Tommy has no idea who that is.

He feels like that shouldn’t be the focus at the moment.

Wilbur sighs.

“Why didn’t you tell me that?” Tommy asks, “Any of this—”

“Well I wasn’t exactly gonna go ‘hey Tommy guess who’s the reason that vigilantes, one of the sole protectors of your district are super-mega-illegal now, me!’ was I?”

It’s a compelling point.

“Fuck,” Tommy whispers, “I’m sorry,” Tommy whispers, “You didn’t— you don’t— you don’t deserve that— any of that.”

“I know,” Wilbur mumbles, hugging his legs to his chest, making himself so much smaller, like he wants to fade out of existence by making himself so small. “No one does. I know that.”

They stay quiet for a few moments, just the rain settles between them.

“I’m glad you did it,” Tommy says, and his voice shakes.

Wilbur looks at him, pain in his eyes.

“I’m not glad— about the pain you would’ve went through, and— everything around that and I’m so sorry that happened. But I’m glad you’re here right now, because— seems like you almost weren’t.”

“You’re gonna make me cry,” Wilbur whispers, his eyes look a bit more watery, but they’ve both been crying basically this entire time.

Another long moment of settling silence.

“I’m glad I’m here too,” Wilbur says.

And the weight that sentence holds seems to weigh down around them, Tommy doesn’t even know the full context, but he can hear how Wilbur chokes up around his words and how he drops his head, looking at the ground.

He thinks Wilbur starts proper crying at that, his shoulders heaving up and down as he sobs to himself. Clamping a hand over his mouth as he tries to muffle his cries, he shakes from the effort of trying not to cry.

For a moment Tommy doesn’t know what to do, he can just watch as Wilbur tries not to cry in front of Tommy.

What would Tommy want, if the situations were reversed?

He grabs Wilbur around the shoulders, pulling him in sideways for a hug.

Wilbur freezes, before leaning into him.

“I’m glad you’re here you doofus.”

Tommy thinks Wilbur cries a little bit harder, and Tommy doesn’t judge. Wilbur’s having a moment, and from the sounds of it, it sounds like a moment that Wilbur’s been waiting for, for years.

So he just hugs Wilbur, and he’s glad that he’s here for this moment.

When Wilbur’s crying becomes a little bit quieter, and he’s not shaking as much, he’s still leaning against Tommy as it rains around the both of them, and Tommy doesn’t even mind that much.

It’s peaceful.

“Thanks,” Wilbur says quietly, “Just, for everything— always.”

Tommy tries to pretend that the sick feeling that’s just formed in his stomach doesn’t get thicker at that, he tries to pretend that he doesn’t look away from Wilbur.

Wilbur trusts him.

With this— with a lot of things, and Wilbur shouldn’t trust him with anything because Tommy is a fucking liar—

“Yeah,” Tommy chokes out, “Of— of course.”

“You alright?” Wilbur asks, “You look— ill.”

“Huh?” Tommy rasps out, “No— just— uh, ate something weird I reckon.”

“Do you need to go home—”

“Can’t get back home anyway,” Tommy says, “Logstedchire is a nightmare to get through at night now, can’t legally even be out at night—”

Wilbur looks at him for a moment, “Do you wanna stay at mine for the night? Phil has a bunch of people staying over, Techno uh— Kristin, Niki, probably more people I don’t know about.”

“Aimsey,” Tommy adds weakly.

He feels like he’s going to throw up.

Wilbur trusts him.

Shit.

Wilbur isn’t supposed to trust him— not this much.

“Uh, if you don’t want to, that’s fine—”

“No, no, no,” Tommy shakes his head, “I do— just, head is in all bunch of places at the moment. That sounds— that sounds nice, really, really nice,” Tommy says.

Wilbur looks at him, before smiling, “You coming?”

“Nah… I’ll stay out here for a bit,” Tommy says, “I’ll be down in a second.”

Wilbur looks at him for a few moments, “Thanks,” he says, “For everything.”

And Wilbur says it easily, like it’s one of the easiest things he’s ever done, the way that Tommy would say hello to someone, it’s said so easily, with so much trust and Tommy wants to throw up because of it.

“Yeah…” Tommy mutters, “For everything.”

Wilbur climbs down the ladder that he dragged up to the side of the building and Tommy finds himself alone.

It feels like he’s really alone, a feeling in his stomach as he stares ahead.

Huh.

Okay.

He’s not okay.

That’s the big realistation he’s come to, which might not sound shocking, but it feels groundbreaking to Tommy. That… he actually can not keep living like this, he can’t keep living the way he has been.

But… things will probably get better.

He’s had enough of Theseus, he’s had enough of the person that he becomes when he wears the mask.

And maybe… maybe things might get a little better? He’s talking to Tubbo again, and he wants to catch up with Ranboo and…

For the first time in, a long, long time, things are looking up for him.

He glances at his phone. 11:59.

It’s about to be the twenty-fifth.

The day he decided to grace the Earth with his presence almost seventeen years ago.

He looks down at his phone.

12:00

Huh…

It’s his birthday.

He’s actually made it, hit the big age, hit seventeen. The age that Deo threw around ten years ago, the age that Tommy genuinely didn’t think he’d make it to, and now he’s standing here.

He’s standing here, and he’s seventeen.

He did it.

Holy shit, he fucking did it.

Tommy can’t say anything, he has nothing to whisper to the air, no big great secret that he needs to tell the world, nothing. He has none of that. He just has himself, the city air and the secret of his birthday.

Seventeen.

Holy Prime, that sounds weird as shit.

He’s actually seventeen.

Tommy smiles to himself, looking out across the city, leaning backwards so his hands prop him up as he stares across the skyline. 

He wipes at his eyes, he’s not sure why, there’s nothing worth crying about here.

Tommy smiles, despite it all, he smiles, barely noticeable if someone else was looking at him, but no one else was looking at him. Just a small smile, but Tommy knows that it’s there. 

He made it.

12:01

Well, he’s had a whole successful minute of being seventeen.

Deo lied, at the end of the day he wasn’t here for Tommy’s seventeenth birthday. Instead, Tommy is left sitting on the edge of a building, looking over his home and wondering how he actually made it here.

So Thomas Underscore sits on a roof and celebrates his seventeenth birthday, anyone who used to know didn’t matter anymore. It’s just him and the city, the only thing that stays. The flickering lights and the cars backfiring and the endless chatter and murmuring and… it’s home.

“Happy birthday to me,” Tommy mutters to himself.

He stares out across the buildings, something heavy.

The city doesn’t react back, he knew it wouldn’t, but maybe a part of himself wanted something to change. A leaf to fly into his face, some greater sign that meant the universe cared.

He’s made it.

He didn’t think he would.

Tommy sighs.

Now what?

For so long he’d thought about this goal that Deo gave him when he was seven, live to seventeen, and then maybe live a bit longer after that. He sighs up at the sky, he’s a bit tired, all things considered.

Tommy just stares.

He doesn’t know what else he can do.

Time to get living, he supposes.

He doesn’t have the weight of Theseus anymore, he can… finally worry about himself, rather than everyone else around him. He can focus on himself and his mental health— he can figure out the details of that later.

How the fuck does someone look after their mental health?

Do they just think a lot? Is that how self-improvement happens? With a lot of aggressive thoughts about how bad he is and trying to fix them? How the fuck does that work, why did he not learn this at school—

Something makes a noise next to him, and he sits up.

It’s nothing.

Tommy sighs.

He watches the city for a few more moments.

He gets up onto his feet and climbs down off the roof.

His feet meet the grass.

Seventeen.

Weird to think about.

He sighs, looking up at the house. It sounds quieter, and Tommy is grateful for that, and slowly, but surely he tredges in, the necklace Techno gave him for Swinter around his neck and the bracelet Wilbur gave him around his wrist.

It feels like belonging.

It’s been a long time since Tommy’s done that.

Not like this at least. 

As he steps in, Techno lobs a towel at his head, which hits him in the face and Tommy staggers back a little bit.

“Oi,” Tommy picks the towel up from across his face and glares at Techno who just grins at him. “Wilbur would never do this to me.”

Wilbur pops up from behind a counter, also with a towel, “Wilbur would do that to you.”

“Techno would never talk about himself in third person,” Techno deadpans.

“I hate you both,” Tommy lies, “Genuinely, never talk to me or my kids ever again—”

“Kids?” Techno snorts, “You’d kill a plant.”

Which is true.

Tommy did accidentally kill a succulent recently.

He’s seventeen.

And one of the first interactions he’s had was Techno fucking yeeting a towel at him…

Hey, it wasn’t what Tommy imagined when he was seven and telling Deo that kids like him didn’t make it this far. And the voice in the back of his head says that he probably shouldn’t have made it this far.

But he’s here.

And that counts for literally everything.

No, no one knows it’s his birthday, the birthday on his fake certificate is the wrong one. The only person who actually knows is Tubbo— and Deo, but Deo’s long gone and Tubbo hasn’t had a chance to do jackshit yet.

But it’s a pretty strong start to the day.

“Come on,” Wilbur says, grabbing the towel off of Tommy before drying Tommy’s hair, and by that Tommy means aggressively shaking his head back and forth while holding a towel.

Tommy squeals, batting Wilbur away with his hand.

“You brute!”

“Hurry up!” Wilbur snaps, “I want Maccas.”

Techno squints at them, “Huh?”

“I’m sleeping over!” Tommy says brightly, grinning at Techno, “Because getting back to Logstedchire is hard and— I mean Wilbur offered me McDonald’s, so I’m gonna go trash his nice apartment.”

Techno nods approvingly, “He has a really nice computer.”

“Stop.”

“He plays so much Sims.”

“It’s a good game!” Wilbur throws his hands up in the air, “Look— who doesn’t want to micromanage tiny video game people’s lives, let me talk about my legacy challenge because I’m going so well on that.”

“Do not let him talk about his legacy challenge,” Phil pipes up, walking into the kitchen with an armful of plates, “Please— I’ve heard so much about the legacy challenge.”

“I’m gonna rant, why the fuck haven’t they updated the previous expansion packs, it’s clear you can do more with the game now, and Get To Work is so broken and fucked— aliens? It’s a terrible addition, they need to go back and revamp it because it’s a mess . Like— come on, the Sims team is already playing it low with so many bugs and stuff and then they—”

Techno grabs Tommy by the arm, pulling him closer, “You should go say bye to everyone, I’ll talk to Wilbur about the Sims. He’s gonna wanna leave once he’s done.”

“Keep him talkin’,” Tommy jokes, “Uh— ask about mods or something.”

Techno gives him a lazy thumbs-up, before letting go of Tommy.

“And do not even get me started on the fact they don’t even have a generations pack yet, they give the most lacklustre, lifeless Sims we’ve historically ever had and they barely differ the life stages. They didn’t even have toddlers when the game was first released. Toddlers!”

Tommy steps out of the room, as Wilbur starts ranting about pathfinding, and he steps into the lounge room.

On the couch is Aimsey and Niki, Aimsey is leaning against Niki’s shoulder, looking up at the roof and talking, moving his hands as he talks quickly, “Then Sniff— she’s one of the recruits with me, threw a knife and I have never seen anyone with more fuckin’ accuracy than that.”

“Sniff sounds nice,” Niki adds, there’s exhaustion in her voice, and oh boy, does Tommy feel that. “When do you get your mentors?”

“Tomorrow,” Aimsey says, “I haven’t been told anyone has super interest in me, but I reckon Techno wouldn’t let me suffer, right?”

“He might not be legally allowed to take on trainees,” Niki murmurs quietly, a hand snaking up to Aimsey’s hair and running her fingers through the knots.

It’s such a domestic moment, and Tommy doesn’t really want to ruin it, but he also doesn’t really want to listen to Wilbur talk about the Sims for much longer. But there’s a certain comfortable quiet in the room.

Both Aimsey’s and Niki’s eyes dart onto Tommy, and Tommy does a small wave.

“Uh, Wil and I are heading off, and I’m being polite.”

“Teenage boy learns social cues,” Aimsey mutters absent-mindedly, leaning against Niki a little more. “More at seven.”

Tommy snorts, “Uh— so thank you for inviting me it really— really helped me figure out some stuff out and uh— you didn’t have to and uh— yeah, just thank you. Sorry I wasn’t— around a lot.”

Niki just smiles at him, something soft that crinkles the edges of her eyes, she moves.

Aimsey flops onto the couch.

She grumbles about that.

Tommy looks at Niki, giving her a smile.

She takes a few long steps towards Tommy, before grabbing him and pulling him into another Niki hug, which Tommy officially decides might be the best hugs, he huffs as he hugs him tight.

For a moment Tommy stays there, and all is right with the world.

But Niki lets go, and Tommy just looks at her, unsure of what to say for several long moments.

Niki just smiles, “Feel better?”

“A lot,” he replies in a small voice, “Thanks for inviting me.”

Niki waves a hand dismissively, “Of course, just— be safe, kid.”

“I’m always responsible and never in trouble,” Tommy adds with a grin, before shooting Niki finger guns. “Wilbur will protect me.”

Niki raises an eyebrow.

“I’m goin’ over to his,” Tommy explains, “Since Logstedchire would be a fucking nightmare to get back to and… I dunno, I deserve to do fun things, which involves annoying Wilbur.”

“You do,” Niki says carefully, “Just… don’t rely on a hero to protect you alright? Protect yourself.”

“It’s Wilbur,” Tommy argues like that means anything to Niki, and Niki frowns at that, “He’s like Techno.”

“He is not like Techno.”

Tommy frowns at Niki, narrowing his eyes a little bit, “I trust Wilbur,” he says, voice even and even he surprises himself at the lack of a shake in it. Instead, it’s strong and steady and sure of itself. “This is a hypothetical anyway, he’d keep me safe if it came down to it.”

Niki shrugs, “Don’t rely on it.”

“Stop being a nihilist,” Aimsey says, slightly muffled by the couch.

Niki turns around, glancing at Aimsey, “That’s not what nihilist means.”

“Stop being a bore then,” Aimsey sits up, “It’s not that deep, Tommy’s goin’ to stay at his— brother figures house, I’ve stayed at yours, it’s really not that deep.”

“What time are you leaving?” Niki asks.

“Niki—” Aimsey says, “You’re motherhenning.”

“Uh… the morning?” Tommy says, “I’ll go home and— probably watch movies.”

“Alright,” Niki sighs, before reaching out and ruffling Tommy’s hair, and for once Tommy doesn’t fight away from it, and he leans into it slightly, it’s nice. “Take care kid, don’t make terrible choices.”

“I would never .”

“Lies,” Aimsey says from the couch, they have… a packet of chips from somewhere, and Tommy doesn’t want to think about it too hard. They shoot Tommy a smile and Tommy gives an awkward thumbs-up back.

“Thanks for havin’ me,” Tommy says easily, giving a smile, “Uh— it meant a lot. I will go now and I’m really bad at goodbyes so I’ll just say— see ya soon.”

He gets a laugh from Niki at that, and Tommy rushes out of the room.

He stands back in the kitchen.

Wilbur is… still ranting.

Techno looks actually interested, nodding and arms crossed.

“And I just think that if modders can do this, it’s offensive the Sims team haven’t hired them, hello Tommy. I did see you leave I’m not stupid—”

“You are a lil’,” Tommy says easily, leaning against the doorframe. 

Wilbur huffs, “Interrupting my rants you child,” he looks at Techno who gives him an amused smirk, “Get another little brother, they said, it would be fun, they said—”

“Look,” Techno says, “After me, I’m surprised you wanted another one.”

Wilbur just glares at him, “I needed something better than you.”

“You think I’m the greatest.”

“I do not.”

“Do so,” Techno replies easily, looking down at his hands, “I’m your favourite person.”

“You are not.”

“He probably is,” Tommy pipes up, “Now, Techno’s the best— everyone loves him, can we go now?”

“Needy,” Wilbur says, but he heads towards the front door, looking at Techno before giving him a nod, “See you tomorrow?”

“Let me hug you,” Techno grumbles, grabbing Wilbur and pulling him in for a hug, it’s a short thing, and Techno lets go of him, “We’re on patrol together right?”

“Yup,” Wilbur grins, “On patrol with my little brother,” and he nudges Techno in the side with his elbow, Techno looks a bit closer to stabbing someone, probably Wilbur. “Just like old times aye?”

“Fuck off,” Techno says, “Go away.”

“Don’t say that,” Wilbur sing-songs, “Because one day I will go away, and you will be sad about it! I’ll run off to the hills, and farm— uh goats, and I will name a goat after you and he will be the bitchiest, worst goat—”

Techno sighs, rolling his eyes. “Alright, stop talking to me and go away now. I love you both.”

“Love you,” Wilbur says giving a half-hearted salute, “See ya tomorrow.”

“Don’t die.”

“Not planning on it.”

Tommy follows Wilbur out of the room, waving to Techno as he follows. Techno rolls his eyes before giving a little wave back.

Wilbur walks down the hallway, fighting to get his coat back on.

Phil and Kristin are standing in the hallway, Phil has his arms crossed and Kristin looks incredibly amused, a smile on her face as Phil talks. 

Kristin rolls her eyes, but there’s nothing but fondness as she does so, “I think we should have a Nerf gun battle, I would beat you easily.”

“You fuckin’ would not,” Phil replies, “I am amazing with a gun.”

“Nerf guns are different,” Kristin says easily, “It’s about stealth, and skill, two things I highly doubt you have.”

Phil’s mouth falls open.

Wilbur takes that as his cue.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, but we’re leavin’,” Wilbur says, looking at Phil and Kristin.

That seems to interrupt their argument, and Phil looks over at Wilbur, closing his mouth to whatever retort that he was going to hit Kristin with.

And Kristin was then probably going to fucking roast him, as is the way that Kristin seems to roll.

“Tommy’s staying over at mine— since getting back to Logstedchire is a nightmare, then we’ll figure that out tomorrow, the child needs sleep.”

Tommy just frowns.

Wilbur grins, “Alright, see ya tomorrow?”

“It is tomorrow,” Phil says.

Wilbur huffs, rolling his eyes, “See you in the morning then Philza the fussiest motherfucker in the world, uh— I think someone dropped a drink in the upstairs hallway by the way.”

Tommy gets to watch, with great amusement, as the joy drains from Phil’s expression, “We have— carpet up there.”

Kristin rolls her eyes, “You are so incompetent, I’ll clean it up.”

“No way,” Phil replies, “I am not making you clean up the spilt drinks at my house, I’ll do it— not like I don’t know how to,” he shoots Wilbur a look at that.

“My balance is incredibly poor!” Wilbur defends, “You are aware of this.”

“I am,” Phil sighs.

“I’d do it again.”

Phil rolls his eyes, “See ya, Wil.”

“See ya!” Wilbur responds brightly, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Phil responds, he looks at Wilbur for about two seconds more, before his eyes go back to Kristin.

Tommy snickers at that, getting a side-eye from Kristin, and he shoots Kristin a thumbs up, before following after Wilbur the few more steps down the hallway.

Wilbur swings open the door, and they’re met with rain pouring on the ground.

Then with a grin, Wilbur glances at Tommy, and Tommy looks at him back. Two boys side-eyeing each other standing on the edge of a porch.

Something almost psychic passes between them.

The knowledge that one of them will take off towards the car, the question is, which one?

And without a word, Tommy takes off towards Wilbur’s car before Wilbur can announce that they’re racing.

“You little shit!” Wilbur calls after him.

Tommy doesn’t care, because he’s winning this race as the rain pours around them, feet slamming against the ground, splashing puddles up as he runs towards Wilbur’s car. He’s vaguely aware of Wilbur chasing after him.

And Tommy shrieks with laughter as they run down the footpath, puddles splashing making most of the noise as they run.

A sleepover at Wilbur’s.

What can go wrong?

As Tommy is about to find out— a real shit tonne.