Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hey Wil,

Long time, no see, huh? What has it been, seven years since I’ve even remotely heard from you? We’ve got a pretty good streak going, I’ll give you that. How have you been? I heard the band is gaining some traction. I hope that means I get free tickets. Dad’s taken off a shit ton of shifts to be a father again or whatever. If it means I get homemade meals every couple of days then I won't complain. He’s actually the one forcing me to write this email. He wants you guys to come to my graduation or whatever. I told him that there was a fat chance you or Tech would fly all the way over here, but the old man has hope. I mean, I wouldn’t mind seeing you guys again, but clearly there was a reason you left in the first place. So. Yea. My graduation, June next year. Come. Or don’t, I wouldn’t be surprised.

-Tomtom

He bit the inside of his cheek, looking over the words on the screen with a keen eye. They lingered on the words at the end. Fingers light on the keyboard, he deleted the fond childhood name that his older brother used to call him, and replaced it with a simple “Tommy”.

He hasn’t seen Wilbur in seven years,Technoblade in longer. Back then, the pink haired man had seized the chance to leave the second he got it, graduating a year early and running off to some literary college in Oregon. Back then, Phil worked more than he breathed, barely ever showing his face to his three- now two beloved sons; leaving them to their own devices. It had been like that for a long time. Honestly, Tommy couldn’t knock Techno for leaving.

Wilbur either.

Since birth, Wilbur had been the one to raise him. The one to feed him, to read to him, to tuck him into bed at night. He had been the one to teach him to speak, to read, to tie his shoes. He had been the one to raise and mold him into a human being, and he did a pretty good job of it considering the circumstances. But no matter how highly he talked up the man that raised him, the truth was that Wilbur was just a kid too. And no kid should be given the job of raising another human being, no matter how much you love them. 

Unlike Techno, who studied hard and quietly packed his bags one day, Wilbur’s departure had been a long time coming. Tommy may have been nine, but he sure as hell heard the fighting that went on between his brother and his father. Oftentimes he didn’t hear the words, but he felt the shouts reverberate off of the walls, he felt the emotion from where he would curl up in his bed and play on his 3DS.  He honestly preferred it that way. When he wasn’t in his room, he could hear the things they would say.

- ”You force me- you trap me here and force me to take care of that annoying fucking brat!”-

So when Wilbur turned eighteen, he was gone with a shout, and a slam, and then nothing.

And then it was just Tommy. Sweet, ten year old Tommy who still clung to his ratty old cow stuffie, and submitted drawings of a brown haired boy to his teachers for every father’s day project, and still bit his fingers absentmindedly. He was alone for a little bit. Just him and his grieving father. Grieving not for a woman who passed away in childbirth, but for the children he had lost in his own threads of neglect. He took one look at his youngest son and decided that that’s where he would change.

And suddenly, Tommy had a father again. A father who still had to pay the bills, and still had other things on his mind, but a father nonetheless. And he tried. No matter when Tommy got angry at him, or when there was a parent-teacher conference he forgot about, he tried. He tried to put things back together from the bottom. And eventually Tommy forgave him, but there were some things Phil could never fix. Two twins scattered across the globe that hid their last names and created a new life for themselves as well.

The Watson’s were separated, but they were happy, in their own sad way. Which put Tommy in the place he’s in now. Sitting on his unmade bed, with his school laptop on his lap, a typed up email in his queue. 

He had been looking at the thing for maybe a little bit too long. Really, it was just a collection of words asking a simple question. So why was he worrying about it so much? Wilbur was his best friend, right? Sure, it’s been close to a decade since they’ve spoken, but he still remembers him like it was yesterday. The kind words, the nicknames, the songs he would sing to him at night. Sure, the man was going on tour with his new band, but Wilbur’s songs were for Tommy first. So it shouldn’t be so hard to send the man an email. 

What was he so scared about anyway? The rejection? There was a good chance that Wilbur would reply with some half assed excuse and things would continue like how they’ve always been. Or was it if Wilbur accepted? Was he afraid of having Wilbur back in his life again?

He wasn’t even gonna go down that road.

Before his mind could spiral any further, he clicked the send button. And- 

‘Message failed. The recipient has blocked all outside media.’

“You’re fucking kidding me,” he grimaced, and flicked the laptop shut.

He didn’t have time for this. He had school to get to. 

It was spirit week, wasn’t it? He quite recalled Tubbo talking his mouth off about how the student council was picking out themes for students to dress up as and make a fool out of themselves for the week. He didn’t understand why they needed a spirit week to lead up to homecoming, but nobody listens to what he has to say anyway. 

Tommy took one look at the spirit week list and said it was bullshit. Tubbo said that if he did not dress up, he would shank him during lunch. And he knew Tubbo, he was not about to take that chance. So here he was, standing in the mirror, looking at himself dressed up as a disco dancer from the seventies. 

His shirt was fucking outrageous. It was purple, and silky, and there was a deep v-neck, and the paisley pattern made him want to burn his eyes with bleach. He brushed his hand through his hair a couple of times, trying to style it in some way that made sense.

And before he could think too much into it, he was opening his bedroom door and out into the hallway. There was the smell of already cooked toast wafting through the air.

“Morning Toms,” his father called from the kitchen, “Breakfast is on the counter.”

And sure, maybe breakfast was two pieces of toast with butter smeared on them, but the thought of it put a smile on his face.

“Looking good,” Phil commented as he entered, a playful smile on his face.

“Oh shut up, I look like a clown,” he growled and took a bite of the toast. He made sure to chew and crunch the piece extra obnoxiously. 

“And you didn’t look like a clown when you had to dress up as a magic lion for the school play last year?” Phil smiled, stirring his coffee.

“I was the biggest lion and I refuse to let anybody rain on my parade,” he placed his hand on his chest and feigned stinginess, “Speaking of which, auditions are soon, we’re doing Shakespeare.”

“Oh, Shakespeare. That’ll be fun.”

“I’m gonna have no clue what I’m saying,” he finished the first piece of toast and moved on to the second.

“And I’m gonna have no clue what I’m listening to, but it’s the support that matters.”

Tommy laughed at that, before Phil continued, “I usually just space out until you’re on stage anyway.”

“I would be mad at that, but Tubbo’s on tech crew and he spaces out the entire time as well. One time he forgot to, y’know, turn them on.”

He looked over at the digital clock on the oven, “Shit, I gotta get to school.”

“I gotta work a little late tonight, there’s a frozen pizza in the freezer,” his father called after him and he rushed out towards the front door.

“I got that subway tour after school, I’ll make it after that,” he responded. And with one last farewell, he was out the door and speed walking out of their apartment building. 

The walk to school is usually spent in silence. Well, as silent as you can get with the bustle of the city. No one in their family really liked the living conditions, which is surprising considering they’ve lived in the same apartment their entire lives. But Tommy didn’t mind the loud, it made him feel less lonely.

He strolled down the street, ignoring the heaps of trash and crowds of people that would shoulder check him if he even got anywhere close to their vicinity. Or maybe they were just being assholes because of his outfit, he wouldn’t be surprised. He would shoulder check him too.

His school building was just coming into view when he heard something to his right, just down one of the offshoot alleys in between an office building and an old coffee shop. Pedestrian etiquette would tell him to just keep his head down and walk faster, but before  he could give it a second thought, his eyes were trained on the two people that were the source of the disturbance. One person- an older woman with light grey hair and round glasses- was pinned up against the brick wall, fearfully holding out her purse to a man in front of her. He was wearing mostly black, and Tommy couldn’t see what, but the woman kept her eyes trained on something in his hand.

Oh, so the woman was being mugged. She must be new.

He walked off with nothing but a passing thought about how the man didn’t have to wear something so generic. Like, all black, really? Did he get that idea from a movie?

He did feel bad for the woman though. He had gotten mugged once, on his walk home from school. He had ended up mouthing off the aggressor too much and they punched him in the face. He went home with a bloody nose and twenty four dollars out of the bank. It was basically a right of passage.

“Thomas, you’re late.”

First period was always the worst. His teacher has a stick up his ass and does this stupid thing with his tounge where it clicks every time he makes a ‘t’ noise. 

“I got caught in the metal detectors again,” Tommy responded, slumping down into his seat next to Tubbo and Ranboo, who were busy in a discussion of their own. They were sat near the front, much to his displeasure. Tubbo said that it would be easier to see the board, and apparently everyone’s lives are dictated by Tubbo’s needs now. 

“Why don’t you just take the metal out of your backpack?” His teacher questioned from  where he sat at his desk. 

“I can’t take the zippers off my backpack,” he growled, shuffling through said bag for his homework. He placed the paper on his desk, folding the page over and praying that he didn’t check for the questions he didn’t complete.

Tubbo turned around, “Hey boss man, did you do the homework?”

“I did enough,” he slid the paper over, brandishing his messy writing and miscellaneous doodles.

“Ranboo won’t let me copy off of him anymore.”

Ranboo turned around this time, playing with a hair tie between his fingers.

“Yea, maybe it’s because the teacher is starting to notice that you get a hundred on your homework grade and then bomb every one of your tests.”

“It’s not my fault that the smart kid covers up his work so I can’t see it.”

“ I’m the smart kid.”

“Yea. Get the hint.”

Ranboo scoffed and maneuvered his lanky body around so he was fully facing the both of them. Propping both elbows onto Tommy’s desk, Going along with the theme of the spirit day, Tubbo was dressed up in a 1950’s greaser getup, and Ranboo presented himself in some generic outfit from the 1920’s. His suspenders clearly weren't long enough for his torso as he kept moving them around uncomfortably.

“Miss Collins is gonna take maternity leave soon,” Ranboo informed as if it was a piece of gossip.

“And why would I care?” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Because that means we don’t have to do any work. The sub’s just gonna put on a movie or something.”

“I still don’t like thinking about how MIss Collins banged someone,” Tubbo piped in.

“Gross, Tubbo.”

“It’s true!”

“Look man,” Tommy interjected, “As long as I don’t have to read The Catcher in the Rye anymore, then I don’t care whatever the fuck we do.”

“Tubbo and I were gonna finish that up at my place tonight, wanna join?” Ranboo asked, wiggling his pencil in such a way that it looked like it was made of rubber. 

“Nah, I gotta go on an abandoned subway tour afterschool. Have to do research or some shit for my history class,” he groaned, accentuating some words.

“Dude, that sounds cool,” Tubbo gushed.

“It sounds boring as fuck. What am I gonna do? Walk around in the dark and look at dust and dead rats?”

“Maybe it’s haunted !”

“Ghosts aren’t real Tubbo.”

“. . .Maybe there will be an oil spill and you’ll get magic powers.”

“Tubbo, why the fuck would I get magic powers?”

“I dunno, but I wouldn’t put it past whatever we’ve got going on with the sewer water.”

“The only thing I’m gonna get from this trip is some weird disease,” he complained.

Tubbo kissed his teeth, “You better take a picture for me.”

“Of the subway station?”

“Yea. I wanna see!”

“Okay, I guess. Whatever makes it so you still do my math homework.”

“Do you two ever actually do your own work?” Ranboo complained.

“Nope,” they replied at the same time. 

With the ring of a bell and a loud clap, the entire class directed their attention to the teacher. Tommy could see it already. He could see it in the man’s eyes how he was ready to drone on and on about spanish. About conjugation, and past tenses, and accent marks. Who even likes Spanish?

*****

Tommy would much rather be in Spanish class right now. That’s how much he’s not enjoying his stroll through this subway. He doesn’t want to be here, and no one in the tour group wants to be here, and the tour guide doesn’t even look like she wants to be there. There is more dust in these dank halls than there is air and the flashlights keep flickering.

It had been about fifteen minutes of just walking and looking at brick walls, trying to let his mind wander to something more entertaining, and then reminding himself that he actually needs to listen to what the guide is saying in order to get a good grade, and then getting bored, and then repeating that process. 

The tour guide was droning on about the subway’s structural capacity or something, her voice echoed down the halls.

Tommy, ever drowning in his boredom, soon noticed that a small group of people in front of him stopped and slipped down one of the side halls without anyone else noticing. He stopped, looking at them curiously. The tour group had already begun walking away without him, so he was left with two options. Carry on with the tour group and get this nightmare over with. Or follow these three dudes down a scary dark hallway and risk the chance of getting murdered down here.

. . .

“Hey, what are you guys doing?” He called to the three that hadn’t made it too far yet. All three of them jumped and turned around to look at him, each with different levels of surprise and annoyance.

“We could ask the same of you, kid,” the one in the middle replied. He was the tallest of the three, and was wearing the god awful green colored hoodie.

“Well I was growing bored of that fucking nightmare tour, and you guys are clearly doing something you’re not supposed to, and I just, y’know, followed.”

The three men looked at each other, having some type of wordless discussion. Were they really gonna kick him out? They didn’t seem that cool. One of the guys was wearing sunglasses down here for fucks sake.

“We were bored as well, so we decided to ditch the tour and sneak around,” the one with the black bandana spoke up.

“You can come with us if you would like. . .I guess,” the glasses freak added on, looking less than pleased to involve the boy in their endeavors. 

Tommy sniffled, and thought for a moment. The tour group was already gone, and he actually had no way to get out of this place because he absolutely was not paying attention to where they were walking, “Sure. Why not.”

He walked ahead so he was right behind them and the group continued on.

“So what’s your name?” the middle one asked.

“Tommy, innit?” he replied.

“Tommyinnit?” Bandana freak asked, laughing. His friends snickered along with him. Oh, Tommy was not having this.

“No, dickhead. Tommy. My name is Tommy,” he grumbled.

“Okay, Tommyinnit. My name’s Sapnap,” Bandana guy then pointed to the tall one in green, “That’s Dream,” and then the one with the glasses, “And that’s George.”

Tommy hummed, “Okay Snap Map , what are you guys exactly expecting to find in these tunnels other than more tunnels?” he asked, as if he’s not actively following them. 

“We don’t actually know. But I’m hoping the exit,” Dream snarked.

The group delved into menial conversation as they strolled through the dark tunnels. Tommy would add on a quip or two every now and then, but he kept his attention on ducking down each offshoot hallway in attempts to find something interesting.

Another hall, another hall, would you look at that- another hall. At this point his flashlight was starting to flicker more and more and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t worried. There was no cell service down here, so he really hoped if he got lost in these dark halls for days on end that his father wouldn't get too worried. 

The dudes in front of him were still talking and looking around, and he was still ducking down halls. Another hall, another hall- hold on.

With a surprised gasp, he found himself looking at the entrance to a small room that didn’t look like anything else from the subway.

“Guys,” he called, and the group turned around to look at him, “I found a room or something.”

“What? There’s actually something down here?” George says as they all gather and look at the dark room now illuminated by four stolen flashlights. It was trashed and cluttered with old stuff. Papers and books, glasses and containers, furniture that was tossed around and turned on it’s side.

“It looks like a lab,” Sapnap commented. Dream was silent.

They all slowly crept into the space, looking around in awe and inspecting the contents that were strewn about the floor. Tommy couldn’t read what was on the pages, they were in some language he couldn’t understand. Oh but there was a lot of it. It was like someone tore all of the pages out of a book and just threw them around. 

The entire room looked as if it had been abandoned with the subway, in a rush and a mess. Along the walls were numerous vials of mysterious liquids. All of them were different colors, different consistencies, different textures, and Tommy couldn’t even begin to place what substances they were. 

Sapnap was looking along one of the book shelves in the back corner, Dream was crouched down near something on the floor in the other corner. Tommy decided to walk over to George, who was holding one of the glasses in his hands, swishing around the dubious contents inside. He was looking at it inquisitively; so focussed that he didn’t notice that Tommy was right behind him.

Where could he even begin to start with all of this. He definitely wasn’t expecting to come across something like this down here. Was he supposed to find this? Is this illegal? Holy shit- he should take a picture of this for Tubbo!

He whipped out his phone from his back pocket and levelled it in front of his face. He was just getting a general image of the room, but the flash was unexpected by the others in the room, especially George. The man jumped at the sudden exposure and dropped the glass in his hands. The container flew to the floor with a crash and glass shards flew everywhere. 

The substance inside, upon impact, sizzled into some gas and expanded through the air.

“Shit!” Tommy swore as George shouted and jumped back, the two others rushed over at the sight of the commotion. The substance was now gone, ingrained with the air particles.

“Fuck,” Sapnap added on.

“Dude! Why did you do that!” George shouted at him.

“Okay, okay,” Dream stepped in, “We need to leave before we inhale whatever that shit is. We don’t know if it’s safe or not.” he said as he slipped his hoodie over his nose, trying to keep as much of his air as clean as possible.

And with all of their fun shattered with that bottle, the group of four fled out of the mysterious room.

“Alright, speak up if any of you start feeling sick. Fuck, I don’t know if we can call 911 down here, we have to find an exit,” Dream spoke up, still worried about everyone’s health. Sapnap put a hand on his arm.

“Calm down, man. It’s probably harmless,” he reasoned.

“We should still find an exit though, it’s getting late,” George said, looking down at his phone.

“Shit, my dad’s gonna be worried,” Tommy frowned. It was two hours past when he said he would be home. Hopefully Phil was used to the rebellion of teenage Wilbur and Tommy would be let off easy.

The rest of the groups’ journey was spent in a tense silence. Eventually they found an exit through a manhole cover, and with no trouble other than a couple of pedestrians judging four dudes crawling out from the ground, Tommy bid the three virtual strangers goodbye and started his walk home.

It was getting pretty dark out. Phil didn’t like it when he was out on the streets when it was dark. Not that he said anything, or made any moves to stop it. But Tommy saw the way he fretted, and looked out the windows. Tommy had reminded him that he has a pepper spray license for a reason, but he still tries to go out late as little as possible.

He looked down at his phone while he was walking, checking up on his lists of texts that he missed. His fingers typed along a reply.

Tommy: Yo Tubs I got you ur subway pic 

*1 attached image*

Tubbo: Yooo that doesn’t look like a subway 

Tommy: nah man we found this weird room in one of the halls. It was actually pretty cool 

Tubbo: Dude we should go down there and snoop through it 

Tommy: already did. Spilled some alcohol or something and had to leave before we died or something 

Tubbo: bummer 

Tommy: I got you ur picture, you’re not allowed to complain 

Tubbo: fine. See u at school tomorrow 

Tommy clicked his phone off right in front of his apartment building. All of the lights shone warmly from the windows. Walking inside, a warm temperature enveloped him, a stark contrast to the biting cold that was the outside. It would start snowing soon, he knew that for sure. Winters here were always so cold and dirty, and the streets always smelled like salt. But he really liked all of the Christmas decorations, so he couldn’t knock it too hard.

He took the stairs up and before he knew it, he was back in his beloved home.

“Toms? Is that you?” His father called from the other room.

“Who else would it be,” he responded, slipping off his shoes and throwing his backpack on the floor.

“What’s got you out so late,” his father said casually, but he could hear the concern behind it. 

“Sorry, the tour went extra long, we got lost around one of the turns,” he slipped into the archway of the main room of their house- the living room, dining room, and kitchenette combined. The warm lights swelled across the small area, contrasting the pitch black sky outside. Phil was sat at the small couch, looking at something on the television, “I woulda texted you but there was no service.”

Phil gave him a warm smile, “Well, pizza’s on the stove. It’s probably a little cold but that’s never stopped anybody.”

“Eh, I’m not really hungry,” he swung around and leaned over the back of the couch so he could see what was playing on the television, “I might just head to bed.”

“Okay,” Phil hooked an arm around his head and drew it close, placing a kiss in his hair, “Sleep well mate.”

Tommy hummed and retreated to his bedroom, light on his feet. He couldn’t tell his father about what happened earlier. He couldn’t tell him that he snuck off with some strangers and exposed himself to dangerous chemicals. He doesn’t want to worry the man. Even worse, he didn’t want him to be mad at him. Tommy could not afford to get grounded right now. Homecoming was in two days and he spent way too much money on a tux.

No, Phil would never know that he snuck out, and it would never be a problem, and this would just be some funny story that he would tell at lunch or something.

With that thought in mind, he slipped into some pajamas and jumped into his bed. The pillows and blankets have never felt more comfortable. He looked out his window, at the old Coca Cola build board across from him, and shut his eyes. Falling asleep.

Chapter Text

Tommy was sick.

Which, okay, usually he would just soldier through it and go to school. It was a Friday and it couldn’t possibly be that hard. But everything hurts so much. His bones hurt, his skin hurt, his throat hurt, his fucking organs hurt. And everything was so hot and so cold at the same time. He was shivering from underneath his sheets. 

After many attempts at trying to pry open his eyes and face the too-bright light of his bedroom, he turned his head over and looked at the clock on his bedside table. Shit. He;s gonna be late for school. He would usually be up and eating breakfast right now, but he couldn’t move. He genuinely couldn't move.He was so weighed down by his sickness that he was parylized with lethargy. He groaned- he croaked, and closed his eyes again. He would take the unexcused absence.

Was this from the substance that spilled yesterday? Did he actually inhale something dangerous and now his body is shutting down? He better not be sick and dying from some stupid pink liquid that some stranger dropped becasue Tubbo wanted a picture of some stupid abandonded subway.

No, he probably just inhaled too much dust without wearing a mask, and he just had to wait while his lungs expelled it from his body and get his sweet, sweet money from suing the touring company. Yea, that’s definitely it. Definitely not some noxious chemical that's making its way through his bloodstream. What would he even tell his father? 

‘Hey Dad! So I snuck out last night and long story short I might need to be sent to a lab because I inhaled chemicals!”

Yea, absolutely not.

Regardless, he was sick. And he was a mix of deadly hungry and painstakingly nauseous. 

It wasn’t  long before he heard a soft knocking at his door.

“Toms, can I come in?” his father asked from behind the door. He responded as loud as he could with a groan. The door creaked open and let more light spill in through the hallway. It hurt his eyes as if someone was shining a spotlight in them. 

“Oh mate. Are you sick?” he asked, and Tommy could already tell that he was going to mother-hen the hell out of him for the entire weekend at the least if he’s lucky. Tommy didn’t reply in any way as Phil walked over and placed a hand on his forehead, his expression grew more worried and he made a clicking noise with his teeth, “You’re burning up.”

“I feel like shit,” he rasped, turning over so he was more on his side.

Phil hummed sympathetically, “Do you think you can eat some toast?”

He hummed noncommittally, Phil stood back up, “Alright, I’ll go and call the school.”

He closed his eyes before he heard the clicking shut of a door. His mind felt like soup, all groggy and sizzly, and minty? He had no way to describe this foriegn feeling in his mind and body. Everything felt heavy and new, and before he could dwell on it any longer, Phil was back with two blank looking pieces of toast in his hand.

He sat up and leaned against his headboard. Slipping the piece of bread in his mouth with a familiar crunch, he could already feel the displeasure in his digestive system. His father sat at the foot of his bed, trying to keep up small talk as he made it through his meal. Tommy could only make it through one piece of toast before his stomach objected too much to continue. Phil frowned as the plate was handed back to him, but he returned the favor with two small pain killers.

“Try to get some sleep mate,” he said as he got up and exited the room. And that sounded both heavenly and horrible right now. He felt like a paradox.

His hand fumbled around his bedside table until he found a crinkled water bottle among the pile of many that felt somewhat full. He washed the pills down, tasting the plastic of the old water go down with it, and then turned to his phone and his text messages with his friends.

Tubbo: Tommmmy yy where r u 

Tubbo: The spanish teacher is making a big deal about you being late again 

Ranboo: You okay man? You’re way later than usual 

Tommy: not at school today. I’m sick,,,

Tubbo: Boo!

Tommy: I really think I inhaled too much dust in that shitty subway tour 

Tommy: it feels like I got hit by a train 

Ranboo: :( well feel better soon 

Tubbo: you better! There is no way you’re missing out on homecoming tomorrow 

Tommy: i won’t miss it big man. I’ll be right as rain tomorrow.

Tubbo: good

Ranboo: i’ll text you my notes for the day 

Tubbo: what! You never give me your notes 

Ranboo: that’s because you’re not sick, and currently at school 

Tommy snickered at the bickering texts that popped up back and forth between his two friends. Exiting out of the texting app, he switched onto instagram to mindlessly scroll; something to keep him entertained while neither using brain or physical power.

There was nothing really entertaining on the app. Local businesses trying to sell their “hip” new food to new NYU students that think everything is just so amazing. His classmates posing in front of a landscape and thinking it’s the shit. Some artist painting something or making a sculpture. He scrolled down one more time and came across a familiar face.

Well, two.

Wilbur didn’t post often, he was pretentious like that, but he did every now and then to satiate his hundreds of thousands of eager fans that would drop dead at the mere mention of him. But he posted today.

A picture of him, sitting at an outdoor cafe table, and next to him, his twin brother Technoblade. Who had pink hair now. When did he get pink hair? When did it get so long? They were sitting next to each other, huge smiles plastered on their faces. Even the stoic twin looked happy to be with the other.

It was captioned, “Can you see the resemblance?” With a shit ton of emojis that barely made sense with the context of the post. 

Huh. . .

So they were together again; bonding again. Laughing and drinking coffee like nothing ever happened, like they were a family.

And Tommy wasn’t there.

His heart swelled with hurt, something bitter and biting. Poisonous thoughts filled his mind, all spiraling from one picture. When did they meet up again? When did they start talking to each other again? When did each other’s names suddenly not become voodoo in their own tongues?

Why not me? Why am I not there?

He frowned, he didn’t like this picture.

He clicked the phone off and dropped it on the bed in front of him. His eyes could barely stay open at this point. He was at that point of exhaustion where sounds become super loud. With one last exhale, he fell asleep.

He doesn’t remember the weird fever dream that he had, all he knows is that he wakes up with a start. His eyes shoot open and his body jolts, and suddenly he’s falling. Albeit not far, but suddenly his body is in the air and then suddenly gravity has taken control of it again and he is sent plummeting towards his bed.

What the fuck?  

Was he just. . . hovering over his bed? No, that’s stupid. He was clearly just still in the dream. One time when he was a young kid, he had such a bad fever dream that he didn’t know what was real or not. This was just like that.

Rolling over, he looked at his clock. He had been asleep for about four hours. His classmates are in sixth period right now.  

He was still sore, and he was somehow feeling worse than before. His stomach hurt. Like, hurt, hurt. Something inside of him was cramping and his throat was burning, and he was almost too late to realise what was about to happen. He lunged for the small trash can by his bed and emptied his stomach into it. There goes his toast. And his painkillers.

Well, he certainly felt better now. Better enough to stumble up to his feet with minimal vitiligo. Picking up his trash can, he slowly but surely walked out into the living room, where his father was doing his work on the computer.

“I threw up your five star breakfast,” he greeted, holding the trash can out in front of him. What? He had no clue what to do with it. And he was the sick one here. If his father was going to be overbearing then he might as well have him clean up his messes for him.

His father frowned and took the basket from him, walking off to dispose of wherever vomit goes. Tommy took this as an opportunity to flop down onto the couch, hoarding all of the space for himself.

There was an old vinyl record playing in the background, some old soul music from when Dad was his age. He probably listened to this very song as he was making out with Mom or something. Gross . He looked over to a particular picture of his mother on the walls. He never actually met the woman aside from that one fleeting moment of her holding him to her chest before she passed, the picture of her felt so familiar. As if he had seen that face every single day of his life. And no, not just because the picture is on the wall of the busiest room in the house.

There were pictures of Wilbur and Techno too, as kids. They were young and scrappy, and Tommy’s favorite was the one of them at a beach day, where Wilbur was candidly caught eating sand.

There were a lot of pictures on the walls, depicting the Watson’s enjoying each other’s presence. It starts with Phil and Kristin, and then the three brothers, and then there’s a large gap in time, and then a cluster of just Tommy. Tommy on his birthday, Tommy with his friends, Tommy at a play performance. Phil hadn’t been seen in a family wall picture since the one taken of him on Christmas ten years ago. He didn’t look too happy in that one. 

He remembers that Christmas. He had forgotten to get Tommy any gifts and Wilbur had yelled at him super loud. Techno- not ignoring his family for once- had taken Tommy to his room to get them both away from the noise, but he could still hear screaming through the walls.

He didn’t like that picture much. He really didn’t like that picture.

And with that thought, the picture suddenly shattered and fell down to the floor with a crash. Tommy jumped.

What the fuck?!

That- that wasn’t a dream. That was real. That just happened- the picture was there. It was there, shattered on the floor.

But how? Nothing had hit it.

“Tommy? You throwing things around in there?” his father called from down the hall. When Phil entered again with an empty can in his hands, he looked down at the source of the ruckus.

“Oh,” he said, crouching down and picking up the broken picture frame, he grimaced, “I didn’t like this picture anyway.” he dunked it in the trash can. 

“I- it just fell over?!” he gasped, concerned and confused.

“Yea mate, the neighbors are probably banging the wall over there,” Phil replied, knocking his fist against the wall for emphasis.

No-no. This was not the neighbors. He was thinking about that picture and it just cracked. It just cracked!

His head was throbbing now, a steady pulsing behind his eyes.

“I- I-. . .I-,” he stammered, trying to grasp what just happened.

“You alright mate?” and suddenly Phil was in front of him, placing his hand on his forehead again.

“I. . .” He was too sick for this, “I don’t feel good.” 

Tommy was sent back to bed with a pat on the back. Laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he thought about what happened. What. . . had happened?

He was just so tired. He would figure it out in the morning. 

And much like before, he was out cold before he could realize that he was falling asleep.

*****

Tommy looked at himself in the mirror one last time. He dressed himself up pretty nicely if he did say so himself. Sure, his father had to knot his nice red tie for him, and the pants were just a little bit short that you could see his gangly ankles, but the suit fit nicely and his hair was freshly washed. He was still a little pale from the last bits of sickness that was lingering, but he was up, and he was on his feet, and if he was going to throw up tonight it's because he drank too much homecoming punch of mysterious origin. He slipped out of his bedroom to the main room where his father and friends were waiting for him. 

Ranboo was wearing a suit as well, not too eager to look too interesting tonight. Tubbo was smiling brightly in a sparkly dress that he bought in the clearance section of JCPenney. Tommy and Ranboo had bet him that he wouldn’t go in a dress, but he accepted that bet with pride and is refusing to take his confidence down a peg. Phil was helping Ranboo with his tie as well. Doing the thing where he tied it around his own neck and then handed it over to the boy to tighten.

He walked over next to the group. When Phil was done with the tie, he took a step back to look at them all, “Looking handsome boys.”

Tommy felt his face turn red with embarrassment, “We do not look-”

“Shut up Tom we look hot as fuck,” Tubbo interupted.

With that, Phil ushered them all together to take a picture of them. They all held their stiff postures and their cheesy smiles as he fumbled with his camera. After maybe too long, the flash went off and there was the sound of a polaroid shooting out. Phil snatched the picture, shaking it out, “Okay boys. Go have fun.”

Tubbo and Ranboo burst out into conversation as they all headed towards the door. Tommy followed after them, only to have a hand grab onto his arm.

“Don’t stay out too late. Text  me if you get too sick,” Phil said.

“I know, Dad.”

“Stay safe. I love you,” his kissed his hair with a ‘mwah’ sound.

“Love you too,” and despite his embarrassment, he gave his father a one armed hug.

And with that, the three were off to their school’s gymnasium. Tubbo was talking up a storm about something that he didn’t bother to listen to, waving his arms to accentuate his story. 

“-and how are you feeling Tommy?” Ranboo asked, drawing his attention back to what his friends were talking about. 

“Huh? Oh, I still kinda feel like shit, but I’m  keeping my lunch down so I’m basically back to perfect health,” he replied, looking down at his dress shoes. They clacked against the sidewalk, the sound was just a little too loud in his ears.

“So you’re just perfectly willing to spread whatever contagious disease you have to the entire school population?” 

“Some of the kids in this school need to be knocked down a peg anyway,” he replied swiftly.

“I dunno. I heard some guy snuck alcohol into the punch. He deserves to sleep good tonight,” Tubbo butted in, skipping along the sidewalk. 

“I could so drink some of that tonight.”

“Yea, there is no way I’m letting you get drunk while sick,” Ranboo frowned.

“Duuuude! You’re no fun!” he feigned despair.

The three of them finished their walk as they made it to the entrance of the gymnasium building. They could already hear the music muffled from the other side of the walls and the blue and purple flashing lights leak out of the windows. But when they walked inside, the scene exploded tenfold. Flashing lights up down, left and right, loud rap music playing from the speakers, kids bumping into each other. Yea, some of these kids were definitely drunk.

Tommy was already feeling overwhelmed. His sick addled brain was having a hard time processing all of the overwhelming sights, smells and sounds. Tubbo tugged on his sleeve, dragging him somewhere across the room. Neither of them had any care as they bumped into dancers. Tubbo was saying something to him, but he couldn hear it over the commotion. All he knew is that his friend looked thrilled. He pulled him close, down to his height so they were talking face to face.

“I think you should dance with Amelia ,” he stage whispered, pointing to a girl on the other side of the room that was dancing idly with her friends.

“Who the fuck is Amelia?” he replied, not even bothering to reciprocate the stage whisper.

“She’s in my science class, she has a crush on you.”

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek. He had no clue who this girl was, and he was not feeling good. But he also knew that Tubbo had some devious plan for him to dance with this girl, and if Tubbo wanted to play matchmaker, he was going to play matchmaker.

“I can say hi to Amelia. But I kinda came here to dance with you and Ranboo.”

“What’s got you in a mood? I thought you were the ladies man!” Tubbo pushed him forward, he stumbled a little but regained his footing. Goddammit. He looked back at Tubbo one last time, exhaled deeply, and then started his walk across the gym.

The music just kept getting louder and louder, and the room just kept getting hotter and hotter. He knows that his father was just being overprotective when he told him to text him if he got sick, but he was getting very close to considering it.

He made it over to where the girl was standing. She was looking kind of bored, tapping her hands against her thighs like Tommy would do when he was in a particularly arduous class.

“Uh- hello,” he said to the girl. It was loud enough to hear while still greatly drowned out by the loud music, but she heard it.

“Oh! Tom! Hello,” he replied nervously, “Are you alright? You look a little sick.”

That was when he noticed that he was really flushed and sweaty. His hands were shaking a little, but that was probably from nerves. Probably.

“Yea. Yea, I’m fine. Did you- uh- did you want to dance?”

The song that was playing was still rap, but it was slower now. And everyone else was slow dancing -kinda- so his offer shouldn’t be too out of nowhere. 

Besides the fact that he had no clue who this girl was.

“Oh! Sure!” She stammered. They both took a moment of fumbling before they awkwardly held onto each other and started slow dancing. Should he be talking? Charming her? He would always brag and boast about his many wives and his magnificent flirting skills, but he had no idea how to approach this. 

Were the lights suddenly flashing faster?

Luckily she looked as out of her element as he did. Though she also looked really worried as she looked at him. He spun her around a little as the music picked up. The colors around them were blurring together.

“You really don’t look good. Did you wanna get some fresh air outside?” She offered. His mind offered up a reply to her, but his mouth refused to move. It was as if his tongue had become mush. Everything around him was too much. Too much. Too much.

He jumped and stumbled back as if he had touched hot iron, “I- yea- sorry- I-” he stammered as he bolted away. He felt his heart beating through his chest as he stumbled into the boys’ locker room.

He leaned against the door, hyperventilating. What was happening to him? It felt as if everything inside of him was buzzing with electricity and shooting outside of him; as if his bones were shattering under the pressure of an anti gravitational force.

He lurched forward, running further into the locker room. The second he stepped into the main room, he bolted. Almost as if he were parting the waves of an ocean, every single locker shot open when he ran past them. Each of them producing a loud metal slamming noise. So loud that he couldn’t hear his shouts of fear.

With every single locker door now open, he jumped into the small bathroom in the back, but that did nothing to protect him from his own fear. The stall doors repeatedly shot open and closed as if a rough wind was hitting them, the lights above him flickered on and off. Everything going on in the room felt so both out of his control, and like it was a part of him at the same time.

He screamed and stumbled over to one of the sinks. The second his hand touched the cold porcelain, all of the mirrors along the wall shattered. He fell back onto the floor, scooching back until his back was against the wall. He curled into a ball, protecting his head as chaos unfurled around him; glass flying, doors slamming, lightbulbs popping.

I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. Oh god, I’m gonna die.

His head was absolutely pounding, but he could barely pay attention to it as the entire room acted on Tommy’s own panic.

He needs to calm down.

He tried to take a deep breath, but it caught on a terrified sob. This was real. This was so real. Deep breath. Inanimate objects were flying around him out of nowhere, and somehow he was the one moving them. Deep breath. He broke that picture frame with his mind. Deep breath. He broke those mirrors with his mind. Deep breath. He opened those lockers with his mind. Deep breath.

It took a while for him to get his breathing back on track, a while for him to untense only the slightest bit and look at his surroundings again.

The room was dead still. Dead quiet.

Absolutely trashed.

Slowly, he unraveled from his curled up position, and stood up on shaky feet. His mind was buzzing with activity; with floods of thoughts and worries, his feet wanted to take him home. 

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall, dozens of fractured reflections of himself looked back. He was disheveled. At some point his tie had come loosely undone, leaving it to just hang aimlessly around his neck. But most notably, most worrisome, was the heavy streams of blood that flowed freely from his nose, drawing messy red lines down his face, staining his teeth, and dripping down to stain the collar of his white button up shirt. 

He stood in the middle of the room like a lost puppy. How was he going to tell his father about this?

-No. He couldn’t tell anyone about this. Ever. They’d send him to a lab or something and he’d never see the light of day again.

He- he doesn’t quite know what’s going on. He’s not supposed to have magic powers . This isn’t supposed to be happening to him. He’s Tommy. Tommy Watson. Who lives with his dad and barely does his homework. Not- not-

When did he start crying?

He patted around for his phone, hoping that the screen wasn’t shattered. A couple of messages lit up his screen.

Tubbo: Tommy! Where did u go the guy spiked the punch for real 

Tubbo: dont tell me you fuckung embarrsased yourself in front of amelia 

Tubbo: Tommy? Where r u?

He clicked out of the private conversation, and onto another one with Ranboo.

Ranboo: hey, where are you? Tubbo doesn’t know where you are either.

Ranboo: are you okay?

He took a deep breath and typed a reply to Ranboo.

Tommy:  yea, I’m fine. Had to run home for a family emergency 

Tommy: enjoy homecoming though

Ranboo: oh 

Ranboo:  is everything okay?

He paused, biting his lip. He hated lying to his friends.

Tommy: yea, everythings okay 

Tommy: you getting sappy on me, boo?

Ranboo: let me fret

Ranboo: but okay, I’ll see you monday then :)

Tommy clicked off his phone. He needed a breather.

He left the trashed bathroom and walked down the dark empty halls, past the abandoned lockers, past the classrooms, past the large trophy cabinet. Techno had a couple of trophies in there somewhere, back when he would dedicate every breath to fencing instead of going home. He could still faintly hear the music bumping from the gym, the ‘click, click, click’ing of his dress shoes against the cold tile floor. Making it to the back exit, he pushed open the door and felt the cold air crash into his body.

And on the street he continued. Walking numbly with a fuzzy destination in mind. With the crime rates in this part of town, not a lot of people were out at night, but the few that were were giving him odd looks. Some concerned, some disgusted, but none of them made any moves to check if he was okay. His phone was blowing up with text messages. Probably Tubbo drunk texting him and sending him candid pictures from the dance floor. But he let the messages settle.

He walked. And he walked until he made it next to the pier. Some shittiy wood overhang near the Hudson that mostly house a bunch of abandoned warehouses. They were bustling once, back when he was a little kid. If he quite recalled, one of them was the old inflatable bouncy house place.

On this seventh birthday, no one was home so Wilbur snuck him out and took him there. They jumped, and slid down slides, and wrestled with each other, and when they got back home no one even noticed that they were gone. But it was one of the best days of his life. The place closed a couple of years later. And now it’s just a big warehouse building with old kids decorations in it.

He stood at the large doors, contemplating the heavy chain locks around the handles. He couldn’t break those with his hands. And he had no idea how to control whatever was going on with his mind. So he scanned the premises for another means of entering.

It took a couple walks around, but he found a broken window. It was just high enough to be too tall for him to reach. How could he reach it? Maybe there was a box around that he could step up on. Or he could jump really high. He held his breath, trying to urge on more thoughts.

The longer he held his breath, the more he felt weightless, as if he was floating up like a balloon. Opening his eyes, he was now eye level with the window. 

Huh?

With his breath still held, he looked down to see his feet hovering a couple of feet off of the ground.

“Ah!” releasing the air from his mouth, gravity shot through his body again, and he went falling to the ground. Before he could hit the sidewalk, he grabbed onto the window ledge. Kicking his legs like crazy, he hoisted himself up and through the window, until he fell through to the floor on the other side.

He looked around his new location. The large warehouse was cold, dusty, and super dark. The only thing keeping him from being delved into complete darkness was the street lights that shone through the window. The place was pretty baron all things considered. All of the old inflatable bounce houses and animatronics were shoved into boxes and crammed into the corners. No one has been here in years. Perfect.

If he had magic powers. If he really had powers, then there has to be a way he can control them somehow. Blood drying on his face, he looked at one of the abandoned animatronics. It was an old raccoon thing, that kinda looked like Tom Nook from that old video game he used to play. The robot had a construction outfit on. 

Standing in front of the thing, he held his hand out in front of him. He didn’t really know what it would actually do, but it felt like the right thing to do.

How does. . .he go about this? In movies this kind of thing just happened. 

Hovering his hand in the general direction of the robot, he thought really hard about making it move. He thought about how he felt in the bathroom, how everything moving felt like an extension of him. He put all of his energy into the robot, fighting science itself to make it move, just a little bit.

He took a deep breath, and he could start to feel a slight tingle behind his eyes. Twisting his hand around, he clenched it into a fist, as if he was grabbing onto the robot from far away. It was as if he felt the weight in his hand, light, but there nonetheless. Slowly but surely, he lifted his hand up.

And the robot followed.

His eyes widened, but he kept the position. He swiveled the robot around, it continued to float. Then, as if he was chucking a baseball, he winded his clenched hand back and threw it forward, letting go at the end.

And the robot went flying.

“Holy shit,” he breathed, “Holy shit. Holy shit.”

He looked down at his hands. So many emotions flowed through him. Excitement, dread, fear, exhilaration.

He took his hand and lifted up a box in the far corner of the room. And he launched it. Just because he could. And he threw another box, and another. 

And much like the bathroom, the room delved into chaos, but this time by Tommy’s own control. He ran around the room, arms flinging left and right as he threw boxes across the walls, laughing as he did so.

This was amazing!

-This was horrible!

The more he used his “powers” the more his head started to throb, and he wouldn’t doubt that his nose had started bleeding more. As the adrenaline started to fade, so did the amazement. Dread built in his stomach.

No no no no no. He couldn’t do this. What was he supposed to do? Is he a monster? His life was ruined.

His breath started picking up.

How could he hide this from everybody? How could he hide this from himself? What if he freaks out again like he did in that bathroom and destroys everything around him?

He couldn’t think of anything to make this better. He wanted his father to make this better. He wanted Wilbur to make this better. He wanted to do nothing but cry about this.

He looked across the room, at the boxes thrown and trashed all over the floor, at the racoon robot slumped over in the corner. And then he looked up to the windows, at the night sky. It was late and he just wanted to go to sleep.

He could think about this in the morning. 

He walked back over to the broken window. Trying his hand at it, he held his breath. And, like expected, his body lost gravity and started floating up. He only did it high enough to reach the window, and then he breathed out, and soon enough he started his silent trek home.

It was two hours past when homecoming would’ve ended when he made it home. When he made it up to the front door he was tired, and dirty, and his head hurt. And all he wanted to do was sleep and not think about anything ever again. He clasped his hand around the handle, only to jiggle it a couple of times. It was locked. And he didn’t have his keys on him.

He peered through the crack to see if there was any light on the other side. He really didn’t want to sneak in through the fire escape. Slowly, he knocked on the door.

It took a couple of moments before he heard movement on the other side of the door. There was a click, and then his father opened the door.

“Tommy, I try to be lenient with you but you really need to tell me when you-” he finally looked up and caught sight of the state of his son, his face dropped, “Toms what happened?”

And the gates broke. Like a toddler, his face scrunched up, his breath hitched, and then fat tears started spilling down his cheeks. He barely got one sob out before Phil wrapped him up in the tightest hug he’s ever had. He buried his face in his father’s shoulder.

“What’s wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?” Phil fretted, holding onto him protectively. He then maneuvered the two of them so they were inside of the apartment and sitting on the couch, Tommy never moving from where he clung onto his father. They sat there for a while, as Phil consoled the other, until Tommy hald calmed down enough and he could run to the kitchen to grab a wet rag.

Phil returned as quick as he left and slowly started cleaning his face.

“Bud, what happened?” he asked, concern taking over his entire being.

Tommy sniffed, “I don’t feel good,” His wet eyes met his fathers. Phil’s hands shifted so he was holding his son’s face in his hands.

“We can talk about it in the morning,” there was a pause, “You tired?”

He nodded, “Can I- can I sleep in your bed tonight?” 

He didn’t want to be alone.

“Of course, Tomcat,” he held his arms open, offering another hug. Tommy spared no time falling into it.

No other words were exchanged that night. But if he closed his eyes tight enough, and listened to the city sounds of cars driving by outside, it was almost as if nothing was ever wrong at all.

Chapter Text

Things were still, very much wrong. 

He woke up the next day with the sun high in the sky. And the only thing indicating that the night before wasn’t a dream was the fact that his father was dripping in worry. They never talked about what happened, but it was clear that his father wanted to.

He spent his entire Sunday laying in bed, scrolling mindlessly through his phone and staring at his ceiling. Every now and then he would take his hand and move something from across the room. Just to make sure that he still could. In all reality, he wanted to ignore it, and try and convince himself that he couldn’t move things with his mind. Out of sight out of mind until he forgot about it. 

His friends texted him a couple of times about homecoming, to which he only gave half hearted replies. What else was he supposed to do? That was one of the most traumatizing nights of his life and no one knew. 

He laid in his bed from sunrise to sunset and sunrise again, only getting up to get ready for school.

When he made it out to the kitchen, he barely made conversation with his father; only giving one or two word replies. Overall it was a dreary affair for a Monday morning. His father gave him a hug before he left, and he snuck out of the apartment having only eaten one piece of toast. 

He made his usual walk in record time, sitting down at the desk of his first period class. He could see from the corner already that the teacher looked pissed. His friends noticed this as well. Tubbo turned around.

“What do you think’s got him in a mood ?” he sneered, drumming his fingers against the desk.

“I dunno,” Ranboo drawled, “Tommy’s not even late today.”

Tommy blushed at that. He would form a rebuttal but all he could think about was his secret. He was hiding something so big from his friends. He was lying to his best friends. Did they know? Could they see through his lies? Did the teacher know? Was there security cameras in the locker rooms and he knows that Tommy is some sort of freak of nature?

Tommy swallowed. No, that’s absurd. There’s no cameras in the locker room or the bathrooms. And if there were he would have to have a word with the principal, because that’s just weird. 

“Maybe he’s mad that the punch was alcoholic,” Tubbo offered.

“That’s a lot of big talk for someone that drank a lot of punch,” Ranboo shot him a playful glare.

“Don’t knock me for having fun Ranboo. You looked miserable all night.”

“Hey, at least I didn’t look as miserable as Tommy,” Ranboo shot back. Tommy stiffened.

‘What?”

“I saw you dancing with Amelia,” Tubbo informed, “You were like, shaking the entire time and then you ran away. The poor girl was so confused.”

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

“Uh- I-” He stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. His heart was beating out of his chest. Ranboo placed a hand on his arm.

“We’re just messing with you, man. You were clearly sick out of your mind.”

Tommy slumped down a little at that. He was about to reply- a boast, a joke or something- but the teacher shot up from his seat and stormed to the front of the class. Immediately, everyone in the class stiffened and stopped talking.

“There has been an incident that occured in the school last Saturday during homecoming,” he started, his voice irritated. “One of the students had defaced and vandalized the men's locker room and adjacent bathroom.”

Tommy could’ve sworn his breath stopped right there, left to never reignite again.

“As of right now, we don’t know who did it, but they trashed the rooms and broke the mirrors. This is unacceptable, and will not be tolerated on school campus,” Tommy’s leg started bouncing up and down, fast, “Until the person who did it steps up, all bathrooms other than the ones on the second floor will be locked and inaccessible.”

The room erupted into objections.

“What the fuck!” Tubbo reacted, “Who the fuck trashed the bathroom!?”

Yea. Tommy felt like dying.

“They’re locking my favorite bathroom,” Ranboo mourned. Tommy’s leg bounced faster.

“Class! Class! Quiet down!” The teacher shouted over them, “A lesson needs to be learned that our school has a zero tolerance policy for vandalism.”

Everyone, and he means everyone in the class looked so pissed at him. And well, they didn’t know that it was him who they should be mad at, but it was his fault nonetheless. His hand shot up.

“Thomas?” The teacher raised an eyebrow.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” he gulped, “The second floor bathroom?”

The teacher nodded and he grabbed the painted ruler that was his hall pass. The second he closed the classroom door, he broke out into a sprint. There was no running allowed in the halls, but he had broken enough rules already. He ran into the second floor bathroom and locked the door behind him.

“Fuck. Shit. Fuck,” he swore underneath his breath, and looked at himself in the mirror. How was he going to get out of this one? Everyone is going to be inconvenienced until he comes out and says that he destroyed the bathroom, but he can’t do that.

. . .

He can’t be here right now. His teachers wouldn’t notice if he was absent for one day, right? He could just. . .leave the hall pass on the sink and slip out of the window.

The window was certainly high up, and there was no fire escape he could crawl down with. 

There was one way he could get down, but it wasn’t the most. . .foolproof. He looked back over to the door, he couldn’t just keep it locked and screw over every other dude in this school that wanted to piss. So, before he could make any rational decisions, he unlocked the bathroom door  and hoisted himself out of the window. The fall wasn’t too far, but it was still terrifying. About a foot before he hit the ground, he held his breath. And thank God, he hovered over the pavement and slowly lowered himself. He stood up, dusting his pants off, and started his journey straight to his bed. 

His walk home was more quiet than usual, not even his flooding thoughts were bombarding enough to provide him any distraction from the city bustle around him. He was taking his usual route when he heard something to the right of him, much like what he heard the other day- though it felt like forever ago.

Some old man was getting mugged at gunpoint. Was that- the man who owned the bodega near his house? He was super nice. Back when he was little, Wilbur would get all of their meals from there, and the man would sneak some extra produce in there. Tommy joined Wilbur on a “grocery” run once, and he gave him some candy bars. Tommy frowned. This guy didn’t deserve to get mugged.

An idea flashed through his mind. Watching the scene unfold, he creeped up and hid behind the corner. When he made sure that neither could see him, he outstretched his hand. And out of nowhere, the gun went flying. The mugger gasped, and floundered around for his lost weapon. Tommy took this opportunity to arrive on the scene. Stepping over the weapon so the guy couldn’t reach it.

“Hey. Is there a problem here?” he greeted nonchalantly. Bodega man looked relieved at the sight of him, while the mugger stepped back.

“Nothing kid,” he snarled.

“Really? Because I was just on my way to pick up my brother from his professional wrestling competition, and I’m sure he wouldn’t like to hear that his favorite store owner got robbed,” he lied through his teeth, but it sounded believable enough. Lying was always one thing he was super good at, despite the nerves that came with it.

“You're bullshitting me,” he replied angrily. But his cover didn’t falter.

“Really? Would you like to chance it? Because it looks like you can’t even hold a gun on your own,” he put his hands on his hips, “If I were you, I’d leave before the cops are called.”

And with all his dignity left at that very spot, the criminal turned tail and ran away, leaving a proud and bewildered Tommy, and a confused bodega owner.

“How did you do that, kid?” he asked with amazement.

“I just lied like there was no tomorrow,” he replied pointedly. The man eased up from against the wall, meeting Tommy where he stood.

“Come on, Tom. Lemmie treat you to some sweets back at my shop,” he threw an arm around the kid.

“Oh, you don’t have to sir.”

“Of course I do. You just saved my life,” his heart warmed at the very idea of the act.

“I don’t know about that,” he said with uncertainty. 

“Sure! The man was pointing a gun at my head! That very easily could have been the end of me. The least I can do is give you some candy, like the good old days.”

Tommy paused, “Thank you for that, by the way.You were like, the reason me and Will never went hungry,” he was bent down at an awkward angle to keep the man level at his shoulders, but they still walked.

“Of course kid. How is Wilbur?”

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek.

“I, uh, I haven’t heard from him since he ran away,” he admitted, and the other man frowned.

“I talked to him that night.”

“You did?” Tommy had been asleep when Wilbur left. He woke up the next day to an empty apartment with nothing but a note that said ‘I love you Tomtom’. He still has that note on his bedside table.

“Really?”

“It had to have been one in the morning. He came to the bodega for one last time,” the man reminisced, “He cried, and told me that he couldn’t stay in New York anymore. And that if you ever came into the store, that I would keep an eye on you.”

He looked at Tommy this time, “He really cares about you.”

Tommy scoffed, hurt and bitter, “If he cared about me then he wouldn’t have abandoned me without a word. Or at the very least he would have kept in contact with me, like, at least once.”

The man had no reply to that. But it didn’t matter as made it to the entrance of his store. As they entered, he was greeted with the telltale smell of dust and whatever comes from that old hotdog machine, old music was playing over the cracking radio that rested on top of one of the chip shelves. An old tabby cat laid curled up on one of the shelves. At the sight of him, Tommy cooed and scratched him behind the ears.

The man walked in front of him and took up his position behind the counter, “Take whatever you want. Hell, take as much as you want.”

Tommy laughed and crouched down in front of the candy display. He picked out a single chocolate bar and waved it in front of him.

“That’s it?”

“Yea. I’ll save more for the next time,” he joked.

“How many times do you plan on saving me from a mugging?”

“How many times do you plan on getting mugged?”

The man gave a hearty laugh, “Get out of here kid, you got homework to do.”

Tommy smiled and made his way towards the exit. 

“Oh! And,” the man stopped him one last time, “Thank you, hero.”

He said it with such genuine warmth that Tommy had never felt before. He just did that. He just saved somebody’s life. He just used his powers and saved somebody’s life. And it felt good. Is this why all those Marvel heroes do what they do? Is he a superhero?

Hold on.

Could he be a superhero? He had the powers, he saw the crime. And it’s not like crazy giant villain monsters exist. He would just be flying around, stopping petty crimes, using his ‘affliction’ for good! He picked up the pace as he started walking home across the street.

Dad should be working, so he had the apartment all to himself and the rest of the day to construct his plan. How does someone become a superhero? Maybe he needed to watch some cheesy movies to find out.

Okay, okay, okay. First, he needs a costume to hide his identity. Did he have to make a mask? That sounds kind of stupid. Maybe one of his brothers had something hidden away in their room that they forgot about.

Fumbling with the keys for a second, he unlocked the door to his apartment and slipped in.

Only to be met face to face with his father, standing there with his arms crossed.

Who did not look happy.

They stood there in silence for a moment, dead still before Phil spoke, “I just got a call from the school.”

Tommy opened his mouth to give a bullshit reply, but he was cut off, “Why aren’t you in it?”

Oh god, his father was really mad.

“I just- left, okay? I didn’t want to go today,” he mumbled, furrowing his brows.

“Tommy you can’t just skip school,” he father reprimanded.

“Well? I did. There’s nothing we can do about it now,” at this point he was just egging his father on more. It almost reminded him of the arguments that  Wilbur and Phil would get into. Scratch that. He’s not gonna think about that.

“Tom. We’re sitting down and we’re talking about this.”

“Fuck off. I’m going to my room,” he kept his head down and stormed past his father, their shoulders bumped together.

“Tommy!-”

“I said fuck off!” and with that, he slammed the door shut. He breathed in, and out. One problem at a time.

A mask. He needs a mask.

He shot over to his closet, searching through his old clothes and boxes on the floor. Small pants, socks, old school supplies, nothing that would be useful to him. He swiveled around to look at the rest of his room. Where was he going to find a mask?

He swallowed, and looked back to his door. His brother’s room. It was just across the hall. But he really didn’t want to talk to his father right now. Him going into the hall would be him risking getting caught.

He slowly pushed open his door, peeking through the gap to skan the hallway. It was clear, and he could hear his father walking around in the kitchen. Perfect. Being as quiet as possible, he slipped out of his bedroom and into his brother’s across the hall. He closed the door with care and then turned around to gauge his surroundings.

He hasn’t been in this room in years. No one has. And you could see that by the layers of dust that coated everything and the way it looked a little darker than all of the other rooms in the apartment. Techno’s side was pretty empty. All that was there was a made bed and a couple of boxes underneath it, he had taken most of his belongings when he went to college. Wilbur’s side was more full. He had left in a hurry with nothing but a backpack and a suitcase on him. The bed was unmade and there was still trash and clutter littering the floor, band posters on the wall.

He started with Wilbur’s side, scanning through his desk. Pens, paper, lot’s of old homework with nonsensical scribbles on them. The first drawer to the left was empty other than one book. And, he was supposed to be looking for something to cover his face, but he was curious now. He picked up the chunky book and opened it to the first page, and-

Oh.

It was a photo album. And the very first picture was what looked to be Tommy’s ultrasound photos. Wilbur had kept these? The next page was of the day Tommy was born, his mother holding him to her chest. He was so tiny, swaddled up in a hospital blanket, and his mother looked so sick, yet so loving. He turned the page quicker than he wanted to. The book continued like that, chronologically taking pictures of Tommy growing older and older. Ones of him sleeping in his crib, ones of him playing with his toys, lots of him with Wilbur. The very last one was of him at the age of nine with Wilbur, they were on the pier. And then, the photos just stopped.

Wilbur had made this.

Wilbur hadn’t taken it with him.

He looked down at the book with mixed emotions. He closed it and wrapped his arms around it. If Wilbur didn’t want it, then he would take it. Finders keepers. 

The next drawer down was empty. The one at the bottom had a bunch of sheet music. When he dug around the papers, at the very bottom, he found a small baggie with a small amount of weed in it. Wilbur smoked weed? How old is this stuff?

Well, he is a crime fighter now. So he did what any superhero would do and threw the bag out the window.

Well, Wilbur’s side of the room was a bust. Which leaves him to Techno’s. The boxes were mostly full of old school supplies, report cards, and books. Did this guy even have a personality? The only time he’s ever seen him as a kid, he was reading a book or ignoring him. Sometimes both at the same time. 

He was at the final box- losing all hope- when he finally came across something. It was a porcelain mask. White, blue, and gold with a design that kinda looks like one of those regal teacups that he’s seen in thrift stores. It was fancy, but it covered his entire face, and it worked. It was perfect!

Techno wouldn’t notice that his weird mask was gone. He probably didn’t even remember that he had it.

With the book and the mask in hand, he left the room to be abandoned once again. Back in his own room, he still had a black body suit from his Halloween costume a couple of years ago. With that on, a hoodie and some khaki shorts on over that, he slipped the mask on and looked in the mirror. 

And there he was. Tommy Watson, the superhero. He looks badass if he does say so himself. He placed his hands on his hips and posed. Tomorrow. Tomorrow he would go out and, what? Patrol? Stop crime? There isn’t really a handbook for this. But what could be so bad? He’ll just be stopping some petty muggings for fun. It’ll be easy.

Tomorrow, he’ll be a superhero. 

Chapter Text

School just seemed to be dragging on forever.

He had gotten off relatively scott free for skipping yesterday. He just made up a bullshit excuse to his friends that he had gotten sick in the bathroom, and all of the teachers seemed to ignore him afterward. He had yet to talk to his father since their little argument yesterday, when he had come out for breakfast, his toast was already on the counter and Phil was nowhere to be seen. 

So other than that, school was relatively normal. But the thought of what he would be doing afterward was so exciting and anxious that he could barely pay attention to any of his lectures. His leg just kept bouncing up and down in anticipation. If he was impatient by first period, then by seventh he was absolutely dying.

Seventh period was Miss Collins class, and she was having them watch some boring movie that was all in black and white. He would’ve been bored of it even if he didn’t have his mind on other things. He had a good method going though. Look at the movie for ten seconds, look at the clock, look at the movie, look at the clock. It was a vicious cycle.

At some point, Tubbo turned around and whispered to him, “Ranboo and I were gonna hang out at Niki’s bakery afterschool. Did you wanna join us?”

Tommy wiped his nose and pretended to mull it over, “Sorry, I’m busy tonight.”

Tubbo frowned, “Doing what?”

“My uh- Dad wants me home. Family stuff.”

“Family stuff? Like at homecoming?” he accused.

“What? Am I not allowed to have family stuff?” He leaned forward in his desk a little. Ranboo side eyed them for a split moment before directing his attention back to the movie.

“Fiiine,” Tubbo relented, “I wanted to show you this drone I made from scratch.”

“You can show me your trash drone some other day.”

Tubbo smiled and turned back around. And soon enough, the bell rang. Usually, he would walk out of the school with Tubbo and Ranboo, but today he shot out of his desk and ran out the front doors. Some students looked at him weirdly but he didn’t care. All he wanted to do was put that mask on and change the world one petty mugging at a time. 

About halfway through his walk home, he bumped into someone.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, and prepared to continue walking. The woman said something in return, and he looked up to see who it was. She had long white hair and kind eyes.

“Puffy?” he asked.

“Oh, yes. That’s me,” she smiled.

Tommy smiled back, “You’re my dad’s therapist, right? Phillip Watson?”

Puffy gasped and her eyes lit up, “Are you Tom?” he asked, like an amazed child. He nodded, “Oh what a handsome young man! Phil has told me so much about you!”

And, to his bewilderment, she pinched his cheek. Tommy had only seen that happen by crazy aunts in movies.

“Has he now? He better not have shown you any baby photos,” he joked. Deep down he knows that there really weren’t any baby pictures of him. All of them were hidden in Wilbur’s old picture book. But he was not about to vent to a therapist that isn’t even his own in the middle of a busy sidewalk.

Puffy laughed anyway, her eyes closing as she did so, “No, no. He’s saved you some dignity.”

He liked this woman, he really did. And he could probably spend the entire day talking to her as if she was a distant relative catching up. But his mind reminded himself that he had a mask to put on and crimes to stop.

“Well I have to go. But it was nice talking to you Miss Puffy,” he waved. He tried to walk away, but she put a hand on his arm.

“I know I need to adhere to patient-doctor confidentiality. But Tommy, if you personally ever need an appointment, I would be happy to give you one,” she said genuinely. 

Tommy laughed nervously, “If this is about me and my dad arguing yesterday, I promise you that it’s not that big of a deal.”

“No, not that. Though that is concerning. I mean, neglect is a horrible thing to go through, especially as a child. It might do you some good to talk about it.”

He frowned, “Well- I mean- thanks to you, I have not been a victim of neglect in seven years. I’m over it, y’know.”

Puffy frowned as well, “Well, just know that the offer is always there.”

And with that, they bid each other adieu, and Tommy was left to think about her offer. He didn’t need therapy. He had a home, and food, and friends, and a good father. And sure, he wasn’t always good but he was good now. She was just overreacting. 

He didn’t have time to think about this.

Phil was at work, so he had free reign of the apartment. He wasted no time throwing on his disguise, looking at himself in the mirror one last time. Oh yea. He was ready. He slipped out of his window and onto the fire escape, starting his first ever patrol.

It didn’t take long for him to find a commotion in one of the small parks. A girl that looked about his age was clutching her backpack to her chest as some older guy tried getting closer to her. He did not want to know where this was going, so quickly, he ran up to the two.

“Hullo, you two look like you’re having fun,” he quipped, stopping the older man in his tracks. The girl looked terrified out of her mind.

“Why are you wearing that?” the man growled, glaring at him.

“Why are you creeping on this girl? Do you know each other?” He put his hands on his hips like an angry mother.

“No!” the girl shouted, stepping back and holding her backpack closer.

“We were just having a nice talk,” the man reasoned, but Tommy could hear the malice in his voice, “You were interrupting us.”

“Ah, I see,” he looked over to the girl, “So if she picks up her phone and calls the cops, and I -say- get you stuck up in that tree. Would that be interrupting you?” He looked up at the tall tree above the three of them.

“What?-” the guy starts, but he’s cut off with a scream as he’s suddenly lifted up into the air. Tommy smiled as he moved his hand up and up, until the offender was stuck on a tall branch, yelling profanities down at him. There was no way he was going to escape until the cops got to him. Looking down at the girl, she had just hung up her call with the authorities. She looked equally as bewildered. He looked down at her shirt.

“Is that Lovejoy merch?” he blurted. She blinked in one beat, looked down at her shirt in another, and looked up at him with a third.

“Uh, yea?” he stammered.

“Nice. Nice band. The lead singer’s a prick though,” he then took a moment to let things settle, “So . . .are you good to take this from here? Cause if so, I’m gonna dip.”

“Uh- yea- yea. Thank you,” she replied, “How did you do that?!”

With the swish of a hand, he flourished, “Magic, my friend. Magic.”

And then he was gone. Leaving the cops to find an angry criminal stuck up in a tree, and a confused teenage girl fumbling to explain to them what just happened.

He skipped away, swinging his arms.

Holy shit! That was awesome!

And really easy!

Pedestrians were giving him odd looks, but come on. This is New York City. They’ve seen weirder. Nothing could break his stride.

Except a cashier robbery. That could break his stride. Stopping in his tracks, he looked to his right into the window of one of the old chain restaurants. Everyone inside was on the floor with their hands folded over their heads. The cashier was crying and taking money out of the cash register. And in the middle was a man with a gun. There sure were a lot of men with guns around here. The police should really get on that.

He opened the door, minding the ding of the bell above it. Everyone in the room looked at him with baited breath, even the robber turned to look at him. Without even thinking, the man turned and pointed the gun at him. That was new. He had never had the gun pointed at him before. He wouldn’t lie and say that his heart wasn’t beating faster.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” he asked, playing into the bit. Clearly the robber didn’t appreciate it, as he shot without hesitation. Tommy dodged just in time to see the bullet shatter the glass behind him. And- oh lord- he may be magic, but he was not invincible. 

“Well that’s not nice,” he frowned, “I think you should have your gun privileges taken away.”

He flicked his hand up and the gun went flying. Up. And down. The device shattered the second it hit the ground.

“What the fuck!” the robber shouted, “What the fuck?!”

He raised both of his hands in the air in defeat.

“Wait, really? You’re robbing a fast food restaurant and you didn’t bring a backup weapon?” he sneered. And, okay, maybe he was being a little cocky. But the power high of stopping a robbery  was maybe getting to his head.

“You’re literally a witch! How am I supposed to fight that?!” the robber shouted.

“A witch? You think I’m a witch?” he faltered, “Never thought I’d hear that one.”

He shifted his weight on his feet, looking around the store, “I can show you witch if you would like,” he taunted. He held his hand out in front of him, and with a smile- that only he knew was there- he lifted this man up off of the ground, just for the fun of it.

The man screamed and flailed around like a fish out of water. Which, if you really think about it, he was. But as long as he was in the air, he was not shooting people or stealing money, so that counted as a success on his part. 

When the cops came, he dropped the man to the ground, and bid adieu to the scene. Exiting the building, he was stopped by a news reporter, a woman with a toothy smile and a microphone. She pushed the device into his face. 

“Sir, were you the one that stopped the robbery in there?” she asked. Her voice was loud, and quite frankly annoying.

“Uh, yea. Yea that was me,” it doesn’t matter how charismatic he was, the second he stepped foot in front of the camera, his mind immediately blanked. 

“And how did you do all . . .that,” he gestured wildly with her hands.

“I kinda just can,” he shrugged. Just to demonstrate, he took a telekinetic hold of the microphone. The news reporter gave a fake tv laugh at the gesture, but was quick to swipe it back into her hold.

“That sure is amazing,” she sounded fake, like one of those women on those reality tv shows, “And what is your name?”

“Uh,” shit. He hadn’t thought about that one. He looked at his surroundings, starting at the door to the building he just exited, “Do-” he drew out the syllable, and then looked at a tree to his left, “-tree-” some children were walking past them, “-cha- Dotreecha,” no, that’s stupid, “Dotratia?” he settled on. 

“Dotratia,” the woman repeated, “Dotratia! New York City’s very own superhero!” she exclaimed to the camera, patting him on the shoulder. Tommy gave an awkward chuckle and looked into the camera. This was really happening. This was really happening!

“Dotratia, what are your plans for the city now?” she asked loudly.

He shrugged, “Stop crime,” he said simply, but it sounded more like a question. She laughed to the camera. Tommy was just mentally preparing for another question then the news reporter took a deep breath and then dragged the camera man to another direction, leaving Tommy standing awkwardly by himself. 

He looked down at his hands, and then to the store that was now clearing out, and then to the sky, which was growing darker by the second. He should get back home before his father gets mad. He could try flying home, but he hasn’t really gotten a hold of the whole “controlling where he’s going” aspect of the whole thing yet. So he did what he does best, ran.

He couldn’t just waltz through the front door for a long list of reasons. He would have to climb up the fire escape that led to his bedroom window. When he was a little kid, Wilbur would always sit him down and tell him not to go near the fire escape because he could fall and hurt himself. He was much too young to be playing around with structures like that. By the time he was old enough, he was skeptical enough to not trust the stability of the thing and how it shook every time he took a step on it.

And boy did it shake. The second he shifted all of his weight onto it, the thing rustled as if a single screw was keeping it together.

It took a little bit of fumbling with his window, and for a second he was scared that he had locked it, but it slid open, and he tumbled through the window onto the ground. As he rolled, he knocked over the lamp on his bedside table with a crash. If his father didn’t think he was home before, then he certainly did now.

He swore underneath his breath and fumbled to pick the lamp back up and put it on his bedside table.

And that was when he heard a knocking at his bedroom door.

Shit.

He looked at himself in the mirror, still all dressed up in his hero getup.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“What?” he called, dragging out the ‘a’ sound. He immediately rushed to throw off his mask and hide it underneath the bed. It wasn’t the most clever hiding spot but it wasn’t like his father was going to go searching around his room.

“Tomcat? Can I come in?” his father spoke from the other side of the room. And- oh god- he was using his special nickname. He only used that when something important was happening. He yanked off his hoodie, fumbling when it got stuck around his head.

“Um? In a minute!” he shouted, tripping over himself as he tried to get the black bodysuit off.

“Tommy. It’s important,” he took all of his hero clothes and shoved it underneath his bed with the mask. Then he rushed to throw on a t-shirt and some sweatpants.

“I’m coming. I’m coming,” he tripped one last time before latching onto the doorknob and opening the door. His father was standing on the other side, arms crossed and a frown on his face, though his eyes held nothing but worry.

“Where have you been?” he asked lightly. Tommy gulped.

“In my room,” he lied, but his father clearly didn’t buy it.

“Tommy, I checked your room half an hour ago and you weren’t there.”

He winced, “I, Uh-”

“Tommy, where were you?” Phil repeated, and something defensive and angry swelled in Tommy’s gut.

“Why do you care?” he glared.

“Because I’m your father. And I don’t really care if you fuck off wherever, Tom, but you could at least tell me. There was just a robbery down the road, what if you were there and I didn’t know?” Phil held his hands out in front of him.

Why was his father making such a big problem out of this?

“Why are you making such a big problem out of this? I was literally just hanging out with my friends,” he spat.

“But why didn’t you tell me?” Phil replied desperately, “You’ve always told me if you were gonna go out before. You’re not any more and that makes me feel like you’re hiding something.”

“Hiding something?” his voice rose with aggression, “You’re accusing me of hiding something ?”

“I’m not accusing, Tommy, I’m asking. Because if you are hiding something from me, then it’s dangerous because you know I would stop it.”

He’s fucking kidding. Who makes him think he has the right? Tommy could feel his heart beating faster and his face heating up.

“What the fuck?! What are you implying?” he shouted.

“Tommy, I don’t-”

“No. What? What do you think I’m off doing when I’m not in my room?” he cut off, stepping closer to his father. Phil didn’t move. 

He didn’t understand. He didn’t understand why this fire was suddenly burning in his brain, his heart. He didn’t understand why he was so angry.

There was a tense pause before Phil spoke again, “Tommy.”

“What.” he bit.

And Phil looked genuinely worried now, no anger ever crossing his palette of emotions, “Sweetheart what happened to you at homecoming?”

Tommy faltered. That was what this was about. Homecoming? That was why his father was on top of his actions all of the time. He sent his father the most threatening glare he could muster.

“ Nothing happened at homecoming ,” he said, plain and simple. Phil didn’t look like he believed him one bit. In fact, he just looked more sad. He was looking at him with something akin to pity. And Tommy hated pity.

“What?” he urged, “Why are you looking at me like that? Nothing happened that night that you can help me with.”

Phil looked close to tears, he held his hands out as if he wanted to hug Tommy tight and never let him go. But he never looked angry. Whatever Puffy did, it worked, because this man was handling Tommy’s aggression perfectly.

And that only made him feel mad. How dare he make him look like the unstable one.

“Tommy,” Phil’s voice was so quiet, “I want to help you, Tomcat. I’m scared that-”

“What?!” he shouted so loud that the neighbors would probably be complaining later, “Are you scared that I’m gonna fucking run away in the middle of the night and you’re gonna finally run out of kids?!” 

And- maybe that was a bit too far. Even lost in his anger he could realise that. His father looked absolutely broken. Tommy could only now listen to how heavily he was breathing, how small streams of hot tears were trailing down his cheeks, how he so badly just wanted to apologize and hug his father and pretend like this entire thing never happened. 

But he couldn’t break now. He had to keep it together.

He had to keep it together. He had to keep it together.

“Tommy,” his father breathed, the heartbroken words wisps on the tip of his tongue.

“Don’t!”

And as he shouted, a loud crash sounded from the other side of the room. Tommy screamed in surprise as the both of them stopped what they were doing to look at the cause of the commotion. In the living room, on the far back wall, a small handful of the family photos had shattered and fallen off of their resting place. Seemingly out of nowhere.

Tommy was mortified.

He did that. He destroyed the pictures. In the heat of his anger, he destroyed his old family photos right in front of his father. How was he supposed to hide this? His father was going to see him as a monster.

His breathing picked up, and he was quick to back up and retreat back to his bedroom.

“Tommy-” his father tried to stop him, but he was cut off by the slamming of a door. Safe in his bedroom, he ran to his bed and threw himself under the blankets. Curling in on himself tight, hiding himself from the world.

Today would go down in history, as Tommy Watson’s first day as a superhero. Dotratia.

(And if Phil stood over the shattered remains of his family’s photos- a good collection of the last ones of his wife- and sobbed for everything he was foolish enough to lose. Then Tommy didn’t hear him over the cries of his own.)

Chapter Text

The next morning, Dotratia was all over the news. A full fledged superhero seen on the streets of New York. Tommy walked out of his bedroom to see his father sitting on the living room couch with a cup of coffee in his hands, watching the news play out on their old television. On it was  his face. Well- not his face, but his mask, and him weaning the mask. Everyone at the news station was amazed as they watched the security camera footage of him stopping that robbery. He leaned against the doorway, watching it as well.

He cleared his throat, surprising his father, “So. . .what do you think of all that?” he asked awkwardly, trying to ignore everything that happened last night. Clearly Phil was surprised by this change of tone too, because he took a few minutes to flounder before responding. 

“It’s unexpected, that’s for sure,” he treaded carefully, “I’m just worried.”

“Worried?”

“Well if he really is everything he says he is- this “superhero” or whatever. Then doesn’t that mean that with that comes supervillains? I think he’s just inadvertently putting the city in more danger,” he stated, eyes still on the television. Tommy  grimaced.

“He’s literally just stopping robberies. How can that be bad?” he crossed his arms. And, despite being the one to cause half of the arguments in the last couple of days, he really did not want to have one now. 

“I’m not saying that he’s bad. I’m saying that there’s always people that see that and want to stop it. And you’ve seen the movies. They’re gonna stop it with crazy dangerous weapons,” he waved his hand around as he spoke.

Yea, like anyone can stop him. Like anyone wants to stop him. He just runs around the neighborhood stopping people with knives.

“Just, stay away from him, alright?”

Tommy  scoffed and wordlessly turned to the kitchen to grab his toast. It was good to know that no matter how many times they fight, the man would still make him breakfast. He didn’t tell his father when he left for school, but the slamming of the door was indicator enough. He left the apartment with the silent agreement that neither of them were gonna bring up the night before, and instead stew in the tension they’ve created for themselves. 

When he made it to first period, he could already tell that everyone in the class had seen the news. They were all bustling in excitement and conversation. Tubbo was the most expressive of them all.

“Have you seen the news?” Tubbo asked before he had the chance to even sit down.

“How have I not, literally everyone is talking about it,” he replied, dropping his papers onto his desk.

“Yea, because there’s a literal superhero with magical telekinesis powers just prancing around the city! That’s insane!” he tapped his hands against the desk. Ranboo didn’t look so excited.

“I’m trying to convince him that it’s a publicity stunt,” Ranboo motioned.

“Why do you think it’s a publicity stunt?” he asked, trying to sound as inconspicuous as possible. He had no tell as to whether it was working or not because his friends were horrible at reading emotional cues.

“He’s literally all over the news, and everyone is talking about him. That is the definition of a successful publicity stunt,” he said pointedly, “It’s like those people who dress up as Elmo on the street. Kinda.”

“He literally made that guy fly with his own mind,” Tubbo cut in, his eyes were shining bright with wonder. Tommy couldn’t help but smile. That was him that was making his friend so happy.

“I dunno Boo. I think you’re just being a downer. The guy seems kinda cool,” really cool. And handsome.

“His mask is creepy,” Ranboo shuddered.

“Your mask is creepy,” he bit back, smirk on his face.

“It’s literally a disposable mask?” 

Tubbo snickered and leaned his elbows onto Tommy’s desk 

“I wonder if the guy would be willing to check out some of my tech,” Tubbo said wistfully.

That- that could be cool. Tubbo is out of this world with his intelligence for making obscure contraptions. The guy made a self controlling RC car robot at the age of eight and it’s only gotten crazier from there. He could probably benefit from some of the gadgets his friend has made.

But that could be dangerous for so many reasons. What happens when someone finds out that he’s helping Dotratia? He would never have a personal life ever again. Not to mention the angry criminals that would have a vendetta against him.

Not only that, but what if Tubbo recognized him? His voice, his mannerisms, or maybe Tommy would let something slip. Then it would all be over. No. Tubbo couldn’t help with his superhero alter ego. Absolutely not. 

“Oh yea?” Tommy played into the idea even though his mind was already made, “And how would you get ahold of the guy?”

Tubbo hummed, “I’ll commit a crime as a ruse, and then give him my business pitch,” he said simply. Good to know that if he sees Tubbo in the streets with a knife, that he shouldn’t go near him.

“Tubbo. You are not committing a crime,” Ranboo sighed, tired of both of his friend’s antics.

“You can’t stop me, Boo. Who knows. Maybe you’ll be the one I commit the crime on,” he leaned his head against Ranboo’s shoulder, the latter of which groaned in exasperation, but didn’t move.

“Please just don’t kill me before Halloween. I spent all year working on this costume.”

Tubbo perked up, “Oh yea! Tommy, you’re gonna hang out with us on Halloween, right? We were gonna watch shitty horror movies and hand out candy to children.”

“Uh,” he stalled. With this new “hero schedule”, he had no clue whether he would be busy or not, “Maybe,” He said lightly.

Both of his friends frowned, but tried to hide their disappointment other than that.

“You better,” Tubbo threatened lightly.

At that point, the teacher had stood up to address the class, leaving Tommy to think about his plans for Halloween in the next few days.

*****

When school finally got out, he wasted no time running down to one of the dark abandoned alleys between two buildings. He took his hero getup out of his bag and switched into it, leaving his clothes and his homework- which he would do later, he swears- in his school backpack behind an old dumpster. And thus, he started his patrol around the city. 

It took about fifteen minutes of relative silence- besides a group of people asking him for a picture- before he saw something that caught his attention. Two men were on the side of the street, fighting. Tommy barely had enough time to realise what was happening before one of them hit the other on the head, and knocked him out cold. With the man unconscious on the ground, the other guy picked up his arms, and started dragging him into a parking lot.

Peeking around the corner, he saw that the aggressor had dragged the unconscious man over to his car, and threw him across the back seat, slamming the door behind him. Tommy’s mind was racing as he came up with a plan. He could knock the man out now. Or open and shut the car door repeatedly and hope that the guy runs away. The main goal is to avoid fighting anybody. He may have magic powers but he does not have super strength. Or any fighting skills. At all.

Tommy couldn’t come up with any useful plan as the man got into the driver's seat of the car and started the engine. Shit. Okay. As the car picked up and started driving away, he ran after it and jumped onto the back. Okay.

Okay.

He’s on the hood of a speeding vehicle. Trying to stop it. From speeding. And kidnapping someone. This was a little worse than an alleyway mugging. The wind whipped at his clothes with a biting cold as his hands scattered for purchase on the top of the car. His left foot lost its grip, causing him to slip back, but he quickly got it back up again before he could fall. His heart was beating out of his chest so hard he could hear it over the loud wind that rushed past him.

The driver must have noticed that he was on the car because he started jutting the steering  around left and right sharply, trying to get him off of the vehicle. Tommy went jerking along with it, slamming his body against the top, but his hands stayed glued to where they were holding on. He made it to the sun roof and started banging on it with his fist. He gave it a hard punch and-

-okay. That hurt. Apparently his firsts weren’t strong enough to punch through glass. They just kinda made a thunk noise. The man driving the car looked more panicked though, so he wound his arm up and punched again. And again. And this time the glass started to shatter. He went at it until the window caved in, shattering all over the driver and the person in the back, who was starting to wake up. 

Tommy wasted no time launching his body through the window and falling into the car. The vehicle swerved dangerously when he hit the gear shift. That wasn’t great.

“What the fuck?” the man sprawled across the back seat grumbled.

“What the fuck!” the driver let out a visceral shout and fumbled for the door handle, not letting his foot off of the accelerator pedal.

“What the fuck?!” Tommy screamed from where he was awkwardly sprawled in the passenger seat. The driver then flung open the drivers side door and jumped out in the blink of an eye. Unsurprisingly, the car did not slow down.

“Oh shit! Is he dead?!” he yelled, still looking at where the man was just sitting. The guy just jumped out of a speeding vehicle, that is going to hurt in the morning. The guy in the backseat- who was now sitting up and wide awake- did not reply to his question. In fact, he said something totally unrelated.

“We’re gonna hit that building!” he alerted. And, okay, maybe that was a little more important than wondering about the state of the guy who was not in the vehicle about to crash into a brick wall.

Tommy swore and maneuvered his body over the middle console and into the driver's seat. His hands hovered over the steering wheel as he looked around the controls of the car.

“Stop the car!” the guy in the back shouted.

“How the fuck do I stop it?!” he shouted back.

“You don’t know how to drive?!”

“I’m a New Yorker! We don’t drive !”

“Hit the brake pedal!” the guy instructed. 

Tommy paused, “Where’s the brake pedal?”

“On the floor! The one to the left!”

Tommy looked down to the floor of the car and spotted two pedals on the ground. With one last glance up to the building in front of them that was swiftly approaching, he slammed his foot onto the brake pedal.

“Ease into it-” the man tried to warn, but he was cut off by the entire car jerking to a stop. The man in the back flung forward and landed with a thud over the middle console, Tommy- who was not wearing a seat belt- flew forward and smashed his head against the windshield.

And then, for a second, everything was quiet. Tommy took this time to breath and assess his body mentally for any damage. Everything seemed to be fine, if not his chest a little panicked. Even his forehead was protected from the hit by the strength of the porcelain. What was this thing made of? The worst that would happen would be a couple of bruises in the morning. So he considers that a win in the “injuries he has to hide” department.

“Are you okay?” he asked through his heavy breathing.

“I hit my nose!” the other guy exclaimed angrily. Tommy kissed his teeth.

“Yea, but are you okay?” he repeated. He needed to make sure that he didn’t need to rush either one of them to the hospital. He’s not even sure that he would have the time for that, he had to get home before his father got worried again.

“Yea,” the man breathed, “Yea, I’m fine,” he slowly maneuvered himself so he was back in the back seats, “That was bat shit crazy, y’know.”

“Yea. But looks who’s not kidnapped,” he said pointedly, reclining back into his seat.

“You’re right. I guess I should thank you for that,” he did not sound happy at all to be thanking him. But Tommy  would take what he can get.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled.

“Just don’t ever get behind the wheel ever again,” the man glared at him.

“I don’t plan on it. Ever. Do you need me to call the cops or anything?”

“Nah, that’s too much talking. I’d much prefer to just walk off and pretend like this never happened.”

“Sounds good to me,” he clapped his hands and turned to open the door to leave, “Why were you kidnapped anyway?”

The man laughed, “I scammed him on a drug deal.”

*****

“Dotratia stops kidnapping and arrests drug dealer.” He can see the headline now.

He walked away from the scene as the guy he saved loudly cussed him out. The man was in cuffs now, and he did not look too happy about it. Tommy didn’t stay too long after that, he slipped away when the cops weren’t looking. 

About halfway through his walk back home, he slipped down one of the more sketchy alleys to change back into his normal clothes. He shoved his hero getup into his backpack and before he realised it, he was back home. A superhero no more.

He entered the apartment quietly, introducing his senses back to the smell of pumpkin candles and the idle sound of the television playing. He slipped his shoes off near the door and rushed to his bedroom to drop off his back pack. When he neared his bedroom door, he caught sight of his father lounging on the couch in the living room, looking at something on the tv with light  interest. Something in Tommy’s chest swelled. For the past few weeks his emotions felt like they were swinging up and down, and he had no control over them as he watched himself act out. But right now he felt calm, and he felt sorry, and he felt really, really bad for what he said last night.

He knows that neither of them will talk about it if it isn’t brought up. It’s a fault for both of them. But maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it right now. Maybe he just wants to spend some time with his father. So he exhaled, and dropped his backpack off in his room, and walked into the living room.

Phil didn’t greet him with words, instead he gave him a small smile. Tommy smiled back and laid down on the couch, resting his head on his fathers lap, like he used to do when he was younger. Phil wordlessly started brushing his hand through Tommy’s blonde curls, untangling places that have started to knot. It was a silent, domestic interaction as both of them tried to ignore every single thing that’s happened before this moment.

The late night  talk show that was playing on the tv presented an old talk show host all dressed up in a suit and tie, he smiled as he talked about something or other, his hands flew around enthusiastically just to accentuate his point. Tommy wasn’t really listening to what he was saying, but the words that blended into white noise felt nice on his ears that were still ringing slightly from all of the wind and screaming he heard earlier.

He was starting to doze off when something in the audio caught his attention.

“And now we have a special guest joining us tonight! The lead singer of the band Lovejoy, Wilbur Soot!” the talk show host exclaimed. Both Tommy and Phil perked up, Tommy opening his eyes and Phil stopping his hand from where it was moving.

Soot? He’s using his middle name now?

Tommy stared intently at the tv, waiting for a certain figure to walk onto the stage.

And then, there he was.

Wilbur walked onto the stage with a big toothy smile on his face, he looked out into the audience with nothing but happiness in his eyes. Wilbur was always meant for the life of stardom, up on that stage, he looked like he belonged. He looked like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. He basically skipped across the stage, the way his stride lifted up with jubilance.

Both Tommy and Phil were dead silent, but neither of them reached for the remote.

As the roaring cheers of the audience died down, Wilbur lowered himself down to one of the uncomfortable looking guest chairs that sat next to the host’s desk, he crossed one leg over the other and lounged back as if he owned the place.

“Wilbur Soot! It is lovely to have you here tonight,” the host greeted, leaning forward on his desk.

“It’s great to be here, Jim,” Wilbur replied smoothly. His voice was deeper now, melodious like honey yet there was still a light rasp to it. Yet deep, deep down, there was still something so “Wilbur” about it. 

“How’s Los Angeles been treating you?” the host asked, giving what Tommy deemed, the most boring small talk he’s ever heard.

“It’s way sunnier than London, I’ll tell you that,” Wilbur joked.

“So he ran off to London?” Tommy commented, not moving from where he was staring at the television.

“I guess so,” Phil didn’t move from where he was looking as well. 

“We’re only staying here for another month or so,” Wilbur continued.

“Who are you staying here with?”

“Ah, my brother,” Wilbur smiled.

Tommy did not. He curled in on himself more.

“Your brother?” the host egged on, and Tommy really wished he wouldn’t.

“My twin brother, yea. He’s a smart one, a doctor.” Tommy noticed how Wilbur started absentmindedly picking at the hem thread of his coat. He used to do that all the time when he would ‘babysit’ Tommy. At least some things never change.

“Ah, so you enjoy spending time with your family then?”

Wilbur scoffed at that, with a smile on his face but something knowing in his eyes. Tommy gave a similar reaction. Phil did not. But he did move his hand down so it was resting on Tommy’s shoulder instead. If Tommy could see his father’s face, he would probably see that the man was giving one of his signature sad, thoughtful frowns.

“Sure, Jim. Techno’s a nice guy,” is all he said.

Oh sure, just pretend like Tommy doesn’t exist. He sees how it is.

Wilbur paused and thought for a moment before speaking again, “I do have a younger brother as well. He’s back at my childhood home in New York.”

If Tommy’s attention wasn’t one hundred percent dedicated to the interview before, it was now. Wilbur was talking about him. Wilbur was talking about him . Sure, he wouldn’t talk to him, but at least he hadn’t forgotten that he existed.

“You were raised in New York?” the host asked, the pitch of his voice raising with interest.

“Yup,” Wilbur replied, popping the ‘p’.

“So then you have to be interested in the whole superhero story going on over there?” The host was really getting into the questions now.

Tommy’s eyes widened.

Wilbur laughed, “That- that Dotratia guy?” he asked, pronouncing the name wrong, “The guy who I’m pretty sure just made his name up on the spot?”

Okay, ouch. It’s true, but ouch.

“Yea, him. How do you feel about New York City having its own superhero running about?”

“Can I be honest with you Jim?” Wilbur leaned forward, “I don’t buy it.”

Tommy made a face. Bitch-

“You don’t buy it?” the host repeated, urging him to further explain his statement.

“It’s New York City. That place is full of whack-jobs. This “superhero” is probably just some guy who wants his fifteen minutes of fame and he’s getting it,” he said, plain and simple, waving his hand around like he said something profound.

“Smartass,” Tommy commented.

“Don’t bully your brother, Toms,” Phil reprimanded lightly, as if they were kids again. He grumbled, but opted not to continue any more. If he kept making a big deal about Dotratia, then his father might start suspecting something of him. More than he already has.

By the time he tuned back into the tv show, they were onto a whole nother topic of discussion. The host was asking a light question and Wilbur was saying something witty and sardonic in reply, the crowd was an uproar of laughter. 

Tommy grew bored and a little bit sad of watching his older brother live out his dreams, so he tapped his father on the knee, “Can you put on cartoons? I wanna fall asleep,” he murmured. And- no, he was not childish. It was just that cartoons were way easier to fall asleep to because of the light hearted dialogue and music. Definitely.

Phil hummed, getting one last look at his lost son, before he grabbed the remote and started flicking through channels. Eventually, he landed on a Charlie brown Halloween special. They were talking about pumpkins or something, but the voices were so light that he couldn’t really bother to listen.

Before he knew it, his eyes were closed, and he was fast asleep.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up on the living room couch with a quilt draped over him and the smell of toast in the air. There was a crick in his back from sleeping on the stiff cushions of the couch and his legs were all tingly. 

“Ugh, shit. You could’ve moved me to my bed y’know,” he called out to his father through a groggy voice, wiping the sleep from his eyes. When he heard no reply from the other side of the room, he sat up and looked around. He seemed to be the only one in the apartment. Just him and a small, pink sticky note on the coffee table next to him.

‘Went to the store to buy some picture frames :)’

Was all it said, in his father’s messy, virtually illegible handwriting. Tommy folded the note up a couple of times and got ready for school. Toast in his mouth, backpack all ready with-

God fucking dammit, he forgot to do his homework. 

All things considered, out of all the responsibilities he has now, he was pretty comfortable with having homework at the bottom of that list. Who needs to go to college anyway?

You know what? He could probably just steal the answers from Ranboo anyway, the guy was spineless. 

On his walk to school, his eyes caught on to one of the televisions in some store display. Some news station replaying security footage of the car chase Dotratia was involved in yesterday. That really happened didn’t it? He’s barely had any time to process the events.

That was so much more than a petty mugging. He could’ve died. There were ten ways that whole things could have ended and he had managed to bullshit the single one where he made it out alive. His heart started speeding up. No-

It’s alright. That’s alright. He’s a superhero, that’s what he’s supposed to do. And he’s alive, and unharmed, he managed. Everything is alright. All in the name of the job. There’s nothing to worry about.

There’s nothing to worry about. 

By the time he made it to first period, he had forgotten about that worrisome train of thought, but there was still something sour lingering in the back of his throat. Ranboo and Tubbo were deep in discussion by the time he arrived, Tubbo was bent over, sketching something furiously on a piece of paper.

Tommy sat down on his desk and then proceeded to bend over Tubbo’s shoulder to sneak a peek at what he was drawing. The paper was filled with illegible writing, coffee stains, and in the center was a drawing. A drawing of his mask.

Well, his alter ego’s mask. 

There was the signature shape and flowery design, but Tubbo added on some more robot-like features built into the surface and what looks like an earpiece. 

“What’cha doing?” he asked, causing Tubbo to startle. He jumped back a little and looked at Tommy before talking.

“I’m trying to improve Dotratia’s mask,” he said pointedly, “I’m trying to implement a visual and auditory alert system connected to crime alerts throughout the city,” he pointed at specific spots on the paper as he explained his plans.

And, okay. Tommy knows that he doesn’t want to get any of his friends or family involved in his hero life, but that was really cool. And helpful. And if anybody can pull that off, it’s Tubbo. Maybe he can just have his friend make the mask and then be on his merry way? It will be a one time business transaction; Tommy will get his gear, Tubbo will be satisfied knowing that a hero is using his tech, and no one gets hurt.

“Oh? How are you going to make it if you can’t get ahold of his mask?” he asked, arching his eyebrow. 

“Well I’d have to get a hold of the guy first. But after that it would be easy. I’d sew in microfiber wires into the plastic or whatever the thing is made of, and get it coded to receive police radars over all the neighborhoods n’ shit,” he said nonchalantly.

Porcelain. He wanted to correct. Really strong porcelain. 

He leaned back to the rightful spot on his seat. While what Tubbo was talking about was cool as shit, something about it was making him anxious. His hero life was one thing and his civilian life was another, and he did not want them to blend.

“How about you, Ranboo? How was your night last night?” he turned to his taller friend that was resting his head against his own desk.

“It was good,” he said lightly, “My cousin’s been back in town for the last couple of weeks so we hung out and went out to dinner.”

“That’s nice,” he replied, picking at his nails. What else was he supposed to say? All of his automated responses and his usual personality felt diluted. 

Eventually, the class started, and the teacher droned on about some lecture. He was talking about some movie about the civil war of El Salvador when something in Tommy’s head switched. One minute everything was fine, and then another it felt impossible to breathe. His heart was beating out of his chest and his hands were shaking, and all his mind could think about was how he could have died yesterday.

He was breathing in and out, but they were coming much too fast and they kept stuttering over each other. What was happening? Why did it feel like his lungs were cramping and his rib cage was closing in on him?

Ranboo must have noticed him in his trouble because he looked over with worry and confusion in his eyes. He mouthed something that looked a lot like “are you okay?” But Tommy couldn’t respond. It was as if his vocal chords shriveled up. That was when he realised that it was becoming harder and harder to stay upward.

He gave one last look to Ranboo, begging for help before crumpled out of his chair and lowered to the ground, curling in on himself.

“Tommy!” he heard someone yell, and then it was lost to the commotion that sparked around him. It only overwhelmed him more as his breath became more frantic.

He closed his eyes, trying to lessen the senses around him, trying to concentrate on something other than the burning pain in his nervous system. There was a hand on his shoulder, guiding his body so he was laying down on his back. The tile floor was cool against his back, as was the metal of the bars of the desk that his left hand latched on to. The warm hand that was on his shoulder had migrated down to hold onto his right hand, tight and grounding; something to keep him connected to his body. 

He opened his eyes once again and scanned the scene. The classroom was empty now, except for Tubbo who was watching him with worry to his left, Ranboo who was holding onto his hand, and the teacher- who was holding a paper bag to his mouth? The brown bag would crumple up every time he inhaled and puff back up when he exhaled. That was odd, but he couldn’t concentrate on it too much. His brain couldn’t seem to latch onto anything except the flairs in his mind that was telling him that he was dying. He couldn’t breathe so clearly he was dying.

Out of everything, he was gonna die here. On the floor of his Spanish classroom. How horribly embarrassing. What were they gonna tell his dad? Would his brothers ever know? Would Tubbo and Ranboo be okay?

(Tommy started hyperventilating faster from where he lay on the ground, his eyes staring straight up at the ceiling with nothing but pure panic. Tubbo, Ranboo, and the teacher all shared a worried look.)

Tommy’s rambling train of thoughts was cut off by someone talking close to his ear.

“-so finally, we decided to go to dinner at this super fancy steak restaurant that was a forty five minute walk away from my apartment,” Was that Ranboo? What was he talking about? “By the time we got there, it was dark out and the line to get in there was, like, super long. I suggested that we just wait until we got a table. But my cousin was impatient so we walked over to the place next door, which was this two star taco place.”

Ranboo rambled on about the night he had the day before. Tommy was so distracted by it that he didn’t even realise that his breathing was slowing down.

“Not only was there hair in my taco, but we both got incredibly sick from it later. Could you imagine: two people with mild food poisoning and only one toilet to throw up in,” Ranboo rubbed his thumb against Tommy’s palm, “All of that and the tacos weren’t even good.”

His breathing was slowly becoming more and more manageable as Ranboo talked in detail about his weekend. It wasn’t the most interesting story, but it was enough for his brain to latch onto until he was able to gain control of his body again. With one last inhale and exhale, he looked around the room again.

So, this was embarrassing. He doesn’t really know what happened but the entire class was now evacuated somewhere else and the teacher was looking at him all funny, and don't even get him started on his friends. They looked scared out of their minds.

“Your hands all sweaty,” he commented breathlessly, trying to lighten the mood. His friends snickered, but didn’t make any move to change their positions.

“Are you okay?” Tubbo asked.

“What happened?” he asked, not moving to sit up from where he was laying on the floor.

“You had a panic attack,” Ranboo supplied. And, oh. Ranboo’s had panic attacks before, that’s why he knew what he was doing. Tommy squinted.

“What? No, It- it couldn’t have been. That- that just came out of nowhere,” he grumbled, still coming down from the previous events.

“Panic attacks can come out of nowhere, Tommy,” Tommy didn’t reply to that.

“Thomas,” the teacher spoke up, “I think it would be best that we call your father and send you home for the day.”

“What? Why,” it wasn’t that bad, really. He was fine now, he could continue the school day. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to his father about this. The last thing he wanted was for his father to know about this. The guy had been so worried lately.

“You just had a panic attack in the middle of class. It would not be safe for you to continue the school day like this,” and for once, the teacher sounded like he actually cared about him.

“But I’m fine,” he argued weakly.

“You’re going home, Thomas. Or at the very least you’re going to the office,” the older man said with finality. Tommy sighed.

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t the worst idea. The last time he lost control of his emotions, he sent a bunch of picture frames flying, just because he was angry. In all honesty, he’s lucky that the panic attack didn’t shatter all the windows or something.

So, Tommy hummed and started to sit up. His friend’s hands hovered around him in case he were about to fall.

“I’m not made of glass,” he bit, but there was still fragility to his voice. Though the hands were gone, so he counted that as a victory. He stumbled a little as he stood, but other than that he was virtually back to normal.

The teacher wrote him up a pink slip; a one way ticket to the guidance counselors office, and he was off. He bid adieu to his friends and exited the room out into the hallway. In the long school hall, he could see the rest of his classmates waiting, leaning against the walls in a group. They were all looking at him funny.

He scoffed. Fuck them. 

*****

No one in the car said anything. Not the driver, not Phil, and certainly not Tommy. After the call was sent out that Tommy had a panic attack in class, he had never seen Phil get somewhere so fast. Especially considering that their family did not have a car. Deciding that the walk was too long for the circumstances, Phil hollered a taxi, thus how they both found themselves sitting in the back of a dirty, quiet yellow car. 

Tommy didn’t bother to put his seatbelt on, he just curled in on himself as he looked out the car window. He tried to lean his head against the cold glass, but it would rattle every time the car hit a considerable bump. His left hand was intertwined with his father’s. A wordless interaction that spoke enough volumes. Phil didn’t ask him any questions, but he sure looked like he wanted to.

Tommy breathed, “I don’t know what happened,” he spoke quietly with a fragility that could shatter at the slightest hit, “It just- it just happened.”

His father squeezed his hand.

“What can I do to help you?” he asked earnestly. Tommy didn’t reply, “We could start looking into therapy?”

Why does everybody think he needs therapy? He doesn’t have time for that. With school and this new superhero gig. He’s the person to do the helping, he doesn’t need help. 

He chooses not to respond to this in turn of delving the car back into a wiring silence. He maneuvered his body a little so he could get his phone out of his pocket, he slipped it out and checked his messages. There were only a few from Ranboo. Which was to be expected considering everyone else is still in school.

Ranboo: Hey man, hope you’re doing better 

Ranboo: If you ever need help with this kind of stuff, I’m always here :)

Tommy breathed through his nose. Why is everybody suddenly acting like this is the end of the world?

He just sent a heart in response. He then looked down to his backpack, where he knew a certain mask resided. He needed to blow off some steam.

*****

Tommy had only ever been scared once.

Well, that’s a lie. But he’s only ever admitted to being scared once.

It was also coincidentally the only cohesive time he remembers ever spending with Technoblade. 

Tommy was maybe seven or so, playing with Tubbo in his bedroom. Technoblade- desperate for any form of attention from their father, negative or not- had entered with a box of fireworks tucked underneath his arm and a mischievous smile on his face. He told the boys to follow him, that he was going to fill the sky with color.

The two children- eyes lighting up- were so enamored with that prospect that they had no choice but to join him. 

The trio had gone out to the parking lot of an abandoned department store. Tommy and Tubbo talking up a storm while Technoblade walked silently, adding a quip or two every now and then.

They had set up the device, a little rocket that Techno had to fiddle with for a good minute before it could actually stand up right. 

The first firework went off, exploding in the sky with a cascade of fire and colors. It was amazing to look at, but so loud to listen to, and the loud noise was taxing on little Tommy’s ears. He had whined, and told the other two that he was ready to go home. But his peers weren’t done yet. They brushed away his words and got to setting up another rocket.

It looked really old, and he didn’t like the idea of shooting it into the sky. What if something went wrong? What if it set something on fire?

‘Munchkin, if you’re scared you can hide behind that dumpster over there.’

Techno had said. And sure, Tommy could hear the joking sneer in his tone at the idea of him going near a smelly dumpster, but Techno had used his special nickname, so clearly he had his best interest in mind. And thus, Tommy nodded and ran behind the dumpster, peeking over the side, but safe behind the thick metal.

And that’s when it happened. There was a fizzle, then a click, and then a boom.

Tommy doesn’t remember much of that night, other than Techno’s cries of pain and the terrifying silence from Tubbo, the blaring sirens of an ambulance and the rare appearance of their father. Later he would find out that the rocket stand had broken before the device could leave the ground, changing it’s trajectory to aim right towards Tubbo. Techno had tried to push the other out of the way, but it had all ended just the same. The two were hit with the firework.

Techno had gotten off better from the two, only his left hand was hit. He had lost his pointer finger and the tip of his thumb to the burns, but it was nothing that wouldn’t heal. 

Tubbo though, Tubbo had been hit full on. He was left with some pretty nasty burns on his chest and neck, and the kid was left bed ridden for weeks. He hides the burns under his clothes now, the only sign that anything happened was his constant attempts at creating his own hearing aids for his damaged eardrums. 

That was the only time he had seen Tubbo really, really hurt. And he had never felt more horrible. After that day, he had sworn that he would protect Tubbo, he would never let him get hurt again. If his gut was telling him that something was dangerous, he would listen, and nothing would go wrong.

That sentiment only continued when he became a superhero. His entire purpose was to save people, especially his friends and family.

Which was why he should absolutely not be where he is right now.

He was in a back alley, no hustle and bustle of New York pedestrians to be seen. He had been a couple of hours into his patrol when someone had stopped him for a chat. That someone being his one and only childhood best friend, Tubbo Schlatt. 

“So, you’re the superhero everyone’s talking about,” Tubbo started. Tommy looked around, what was he doing here? What were either of them doing here?

“Uh, yea,” he responded, “And you are?” All he had to do was play into the bit that he had no clue who this guy was. He’s not Tommy right now, and the person standing in front of him was an absolute stranger.

“My name’s Tubbo, I want to help you,” he said bluntly.

“Oh-” Tommy choked. So he’s actually doing this, “Oh? I mean, I dunno how capable you are with hand to hand combat, but I can handle myself with my- y’know- powers and everything.”

“Not like that,” Tubbo shook his head, a smile on his face, “I want to make tech for you; be the guy behind the chair. Y’know?”

Oh. Well. That might be a little fun. Taking down bad guys with his best friend by his side, not being so alone on his patrols. And-

-No. He is not dragging Tubbo into this. Half of the reason he’s doing this in the first place is to protect Tubbo.

“And why should I trust you? No offense, man, but we have literally just met in this sketch alley,” he crossed his arms, trying to act aloof. Tubbo smiled even more and then shuffled for something in his pocket.

He. . .wasn’t gonna rob him, right? Tommy knew he was talking about committing a crime to get Dotratia’s attention but doing a crime against him would not be helping his point.

Instead of a weapon, the boy pulled out an earpiece. 

“Is that. . .a hearing aid?” he asked, inspecting the object further.

“Kinda,” Tubbo replied, “I took one of my old hearing aids and rewired it so it's a communication earpiece.”

Tommy paused, “You wear hearing aids?”

“Only at home,” the boy responded quickly, “Anyway, I made it so not only can you connect to a call with me, but it’s also connected to the local police radar-” 

Tubbo rambled on about the contents of the device he created, but Tommy tuned it out. He used hearing aids? Sure, Tommy knew that he was a little hard of hearing, and that he always experimented with the devices, but he didn’t know that Tubbo actually needed to use them. His hearing was that bad? Not only that, but he was hiding that fact from him?

But- they would always tell each other everything.

They would. They always did.

Or at least he thought they did.

But Tubbo uses hearing aids, and Tommy is a superhero.

“- I have other gear, of course. But this was just a little prototype thingy I made first and foremost.” Tommy blinked a couple of times, but no one could see it through the mask.

“Are you- uh, are you sure you want to get involved with this? It’s a lot, especially for a kid,” he tried.

“I can handle it!” Tubbo insisted, “It’s not like I’m the one going out there putting my life in danger, I would just be hanging around in my bedroom. If anything, you would be keeping people alive, and I would be keeping you alive.”

Tommy groaned, drawing out the noise to give him a chance to think, “Okay,” he relented, “But if at any point it gets too dangerous, or I want you to stop, you stop. Alright.”

Tubbo lit up, “Of course! Of course. You will not regret this,” he held his hand out and Tommy shook it, albeit awkwardly, “So. . .where do we start?”

Where did they start? Tommy just kinda runs around until he sees something amiss, but he has a feeling that will not impress Tubbo in the slightest.

“Uh, I can patrol around? You can, I dunno, go do your computer shit?” he offered. Tubbo bit his thumb in contemplation. Then he snapped his fingers and pulled out his phone, he started typing something so fast that Tommy could barely see his fingers moving.

“Okay, there’s been a kidnapping at the local mall ten minutes away from here. An eight year old with red hair and a blue coat- sources say there’s still a chance they’re still in the mall,” he read off quickly, “You run to the scene and I’ll go to my place to get into the security camera footage and we’ll meet up from there.”

Oh wow. He’s good at this. Tommy nodded and they both ran in their respective directions.

When Tommy made it to the mall, he expected a lot. . .more. Maybe at least a cop car or two. But there was nothing. Nothing if not massive crowds of people and Christmas decorations that were up way too early.

“Are you sure there’s a kidnapping here?” he asked into the earpiece.

“Yea,” Tubbo’s voice was small and staticy from the other side of the call, “There was a call for one, but the cops won't come because it hasn’t been twenty four hours.”

“That’s bullshit. In twenty four hours the kid’ll be long gone.”

“Exactly. Which is why they need you,” Tommy’s heart swelled with that warm feeling again. 

“Right. Do you know about where the kid was last seen?” he asked, walking further into the mall.

Tubbo typed for a moment, “The kid was last seen at the food court with their parent at 4:52.”

Tommy hummed and started running towards the food court. Some people were cursing him out as he bumped past them, others were in awe that he was in their presence.

“Can’t you just fly around places?” Tubbo asked out of nowhere.

“Uh, kinda,” he responded, still moving, “If I hold my breath I can float up. But I can’t really control where I’m going.”

“Like a balloon?”

“Sure, like a balloon.”

It took a couple of minutes of him floundering the immense crowds of the mall before he came across something interesting. A child was walking next to an older man, the kid had long red hair and a blue puffy coat on. The older man didn’t look down at the kid once, and he held onto them with an iron around their wrist. Even more suspicious, the kid was frowning.

“Is this the kid?” he whispered into the earphone.

“You don’t have a good angle on ‘em, but it looks like it matches the description I was given,” Tubbo replied. Throughout the entire call, Tommy could hear the faint sound of a pen clicking on the other side of the line, something Tubbo often did when he was fidgeting. The clicking was gone now.

Tommy picked up the pace and walked up to the two.

“Excuse me,” he piped up. The man kept his eyes straight forward as he started to walk faster, the kid took one look at the superhero and his face lit up, even as he was being harshly dragged forward. Tommy jumped in front of them and stopped, causing the other two to stop as well.

“Hello sir, is this your kid?” he jumped straight to the point.

“Yes,” the man glared at him, “And I would appreciate it if you would let us continue walking.”

“And I would appreciate it if you let me talk to the kid,” Tommy smiled, but no one could see it through the mask. He looked down to the kid, “Hey buddy. What’s your name?” His voice was a higher pitch as he talked to the child.

“My name is Fundy!” They smiled.

“That’s a nice name, Fundy. Do you have any guardians around?”

“My parent is in the food court. He’s the king of New York!” Fundy said proudly, boasting about his parent. The person who was clearly not the one holding the kid’s hand.

“Well he sounds very cool,” Tommy exclaimed, playing up the child friendly bit, “I would love to meet him. Would you show me to him?”

Fundy nodded their head eagerly, but the man holding their hand had other plans. He moved forward and shoved Tommy a little.

“What the fuck is your deal? I’m just trying to get back to the car with my kid,” he argued, a little too defensive. 

“You’re clearly not this kid’s dad. And I am not  letting you take them any further,” he crossed his arms, secretly hoping that he didn’t have to use any of his powers. Though considering that the guy was only becoming more and more aggressive, that didn’t seem to be the case.

“This is my kid! You’re just some delusional guy in a mask that’s trying to take them away!” The man was getting all up in his face now, that was just rude. Does this guy not know about boundaries?

“If they really are your kid then you wouldn’t have a problem with the three of us walking to the food court,” he offered, sneering as he knew he had gotten the mental upper hand.

The man was getting really angry now, but Fundy was sensing none of it, “Mr. Superhero! You have magic powers, right?” he asked excitedly.

“I do,” Tommy nodded his head, “Would you like to see them?”

Fundy nodded excitedly, their eyes shining brighter than the sun. Tommy laughed at the kid’s enthusiasm, and maybe a little bit at the older man’s frustration, but mostly at the cute kid. With a smile on his face, he lifted up his hand- and subsequently the kidnapper- up into the air. Like usual, the man started to scream. These guys really had to come up with a more original response, the whole ‘Oh my god, I’m flying!’ bit was getting a little boring.

He brought the man super close to his face- mask, “Here’s what I’m gonna do: I’m gonna lift you up, and throw you across the room. I really don’t want to resort to violence, but if I ever hear that you’ve laid a hand on another kid again, it’s over for you, my friend.”

The man barely had a chance to look at him with fear before Tommy lifted him up and launched him across the room like a baseball. He heard an ‘oof’ sound somewhere across the crowds, but other than that, the man was gone. Which just left him and Fundy, who clearly had no clue that they were in the midst of being kidnapped.

“Alright kid,” he held out his hand, to which Fundy latched onto it with their little hand, “Wanna show me where your parent is?”

“That was so cool, mister! Are you really magic?” Fundy gushed.

“I am,” he encouraged as the two started to walk back to the food court.

“You’re really cool, mister. One day I want to have cool super powers like you,” Fundy swung their hands back and forth as the two of them walked. Well, Fundy was kind of skipping about, but Tommy was walking.

Tommy just laughed to that statement, a little awkwardly, “So, what are you doing here at the mall?” he asked lightly, encouraging the kid to talk more.

“My parent was taking me to the hairdressers,” they smiled. Man, this kid was full of smiles, “I’m gonna cut my hair all short so I can be a boy this school year!”

“Really? Good on ya’ kid.”

“My parent says that I can take a medicine that makes my voice all deep like a boy’s, but i’d have to get poked with a needle, and I don’t like shots.”

“Here’s my number one rule, kid. Every time you get a shot, you have to get a lollipop afterward,” he said pointedly.

“Really?!”

“Really. You tell your parent that every time you get a shot, you get candy afterward. Dotratia says so.”

Fundy giggled, “Okay.”

At that point, they had made it to the food court. It didn’t take long to find Fundy’s parent; a tall man with curly brown hair and the most worried expression he had seen on a person other than his father. The second the guy laid eyes on the two, he broke out into relieved tears.

“Oh, Fundy! Thank god you’re okay!” he cried, swooping the child up into his arms, hugging onto them as tight as humanly possible. Then he turned to Tommy, “Thank you so much. You don’t even understand how thankful I am for you.”

Tommy chuckled awkwardly, “It’s nothing really. ‘S a great kid you got there.”

The guy smiled proudly and shifted the child higher up into his hold, “Thank you, I adopted him myself,” With the kid higher up in his hold, he held one hand out for Tommy to shake it, “The name’s Eret. Thank you, truly.”

“Really, it’s nothing. Just comes with the job description,” he said earnestly. Sure, he does all this superhero business to help people, but getting all this praise was still awkward.

“Sure. But the police’s job description was to help people too, and they nearly let my son get kidnapped,” he refuted. The man did have a point there.

The conversation was way easier to hold up from there. Eret was easy to talk to and Fundy was just downright adorable. But eventually he had to get back to patrolling the streets for more people that may need him. With a wave, he turned around and headed for the exit of the mall, a wide smile underneath his mask.

“You’re really good with kids,” Tubbo blurted from the earpiece Tommy forgot was there. Tommy let out a -definitely manly- scream and jumped in surprise.

“Jesus fuck, man! I forgot you were there!” he huffed.

“Sorry, I was just watching,” he could hear Tubbo’s smile from across the call, “Watching you be absolutely adorable with that kid,” he teased.

“Oi! I am not adorable!” he fumed, “If anyone was good with kids, it was my older brother. Not me.”

“I dunno man, I think you’re a softie.”

“Shut up, shut up. He was literally a small kidnapped child. I’m not gonna be a dick to ‘em.”

Tubbo clicked his tongue, “Okay,” he drawled, with a knowing teasing to his tone. The interaction was so natural that Tommy forgot that they’re technically strangers right now, and that they’re both on patrol.

“Whatever. You got anything more on your crazy crime radar?” he asked, preparing himself for action again.

Tubbo scanned through something again, “There’s a bank robbery down the street. Two robbers, eight hostages.”

He is really good at this.

“On it,” and with that, Tommy- and his new partner- were off to save the day once again.

Chapter Text

A couple days into this whole superhero business with his new partner, and things have never been better.

Whatever the fuck Tubbo does to get his hands on all of these obscure crimes was working and Tommy was stopping illegal activity and saving lives left and right like he didn’t have a single care in the world. Not only that, but it was nice to have someone to talk to and joke around with while he was patrolling around. The whole thing was so enjoyable that Tommy had barely been spending any time in his own home. 

You could barely blink without seeing Dotratia all over the news. ‘Dotratia stops robbery’, ‘Dotratia saves civilians from a building fire’, ‘The streets have never been safer’. It was all everyone was ever talking about.

Things were great. He was efficient in his work, the city loves him, his relationship with Tubbo was great.

Well, Dotratia’s relationship with Tubbo was great. Tommy’s relationship with Tubbo was . . .lacking at best.

Tommy was always so busy after school on patrols that they never had any time to hang out, and during school, Tubbo was so engulfed in his papers and sketches that they barely even talked.

The only thing that reminded him that they were still friends was their plans for Halloween. Tubbo kept sending movie recommendations in the group chat, all of them looked absolutely horrible. The only reason he recognizes half of these titles is because he wasn’t allowed to watch them as a little kid. Wilbur was very strict.

On his walk to Tubbo’s, the streets were filled with flashing decorations and kids running around in costume. It was certainly louder than usual, but instead of the usual murmurings of the streets, happy talks and cheers could be heard. Even Halloween music was playing in the distance somewhere. Tommy didn’t even know that they made Halloween music.

Tubbo lived on the bottom floor of his apartment building solely because no one else did. It was a shitty building, in a shitty neighborhood, and on the ground floor you were more susceptible to seeing shitty crimes right outside of your window. It also takes away like, half of your privacy because people on the outside can also see in.

Tommy didn’t mean to peek into the windows, he really didn’t. But he was walking by and he just so happened to see in. What he saw wasn’t anything wrong inherently. It was just Tubbo and Ranboo sitting on the floor, talking and waiting for him to arrive. But Tommy couldn't help but notice that Tubbo was wearing his hearing aids.

Dotratia knew that he wore them at home, but Tommy didn’t. But that wasn’t the problem.

The problem was that Ranboo was there. Ranboo knew. Tubbo told Ranboo and not him. He hid it from him.

Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe he should go home. Maybe he should just go home with his dad who he’s fighting with, and his brothers who aren’t there, and slowly destroy every relationship he’s ever known because that sounds way easier than entering this apartment right now.

He couldn’t even patrol right now because Tubbo was busy with Ranboo. Who knows about his hearing and probably countless other things because suddenly Tubbo has a slough of secrets that he’s hiding. 

-No. These are his two best friends that he is talking about. Nothing is tense, nothing is out of the ordinary. This is the only place in his life that still has some sense of normalcy and he’ll be damned if he ruined it tonight. 

He readied himself, and knocked on the door. There was a commotion on the other side, shuffling and some voices. It took longer than usual for someone to open up the door and greet him. When the door did open, Tubbo was standing there. He wasn’t wearing the hearing aids anymore. 

“Hey,” he greeted, out of breath, “You’re here early.”

“Yea, Dad wasn’t home so I decided to just walk on over,” he replied casually. Tubbo nodded and let him into the apartment. The Schlatt’s apartment was always so much darker than any other apartment he had seen. The lighting was always so dim despite how many lamps there were. Tommy sauntered over to the living room couch and plopped down on to it right next to where Ranboo was sitting. Some shitty horror movie marathon was playing on the TV.

There was a crack in the top right corner of the TV, nobody knows where it came from but it’s been there for years. 

“Nice shirt,” he commented, only teasing a little bit. Ranboo looked down to his skeleton shirt and smiled.

“At least I’m wearing something festive,” he turned his nose up.

“Shut up and hand me the candy,” Tubbo barrelled in, jumping on the couch- and subsequently his two friends. After the two of them each made their own noises of discomfort, surprise, and complaint, Ranboo handed over the large bowl of random assorted Halloween candies. They were all off brand and kinda looked like they would taste stale.

“Leave some for the trick or treaters,” Ranboo warned.

“Fuck the trick or treaters. I want to stuff my mouth with ‘Peanut Butter Bowls’” Tubbo snickered at the absurdity of the names.

“Dude, where did you even get these?” Tommy asked in regards to the off brand candy.

“Dad got them at the dollar store in Chinatown.”

“Is that why half of them aren’t in English?” Ranboo asked, closely inspecting a generic hard candy with a bright pink wrapper.

Tubbo replied to that with stuffing more candy into his mouth, “I ordered a pizza too. Half cheese for you,” on the ‘you’, he swung his foot up to whack Tommy on the nose.

“Is it from that place that has cockroaches in the bathroom?”

“Boo, you complain about everything. The cockroaches are a part of the culture.”

“Don’t come crying to me when you accidentally eat a cockroach,” Ranboo rolled his eyes.

The serial killer had just appeared in the movie they were watching when there was a knock on the front door. All three boys ran to go get it- Tubbo in front, holding the bowl while Tommy and Ranboo strayed to the back.

Opening the door, they were greeted with a cluster of young children shouting, “Trick or treat!”

Tommy got a good look through all of their costumes, “Now what do we have here?” he asked. Oh god, he sounded like an adult.

“I’m a tiger!” one of them exclaimed. The other two were more nervous to speak, but he could see that one of them was dressed up as a fireman. The other one had a. . .paper plate on his face? And there was blue and yellow marker all over-

-Oh. They were dressed up as Dotratia.

While Tommy was busy having a moment, Tubbo finished handing out the candy, “They were adorable,” Tubbo commented.

“Oh my god! There's one coming up that’s dressed like a pig. . .zombie? Zombie pig?” Ranboo called from where he was looking out the window.

“Boo, we should adopt a kid,” Tubbo said, plain and simple. Tommy stuttered at that, but Ranboo had no problem replying.

“Sure, we can name him Michael,” Ranboo offered.

“Deal.”

“Oh my god,” Tommy whined, “Neither of you are getting a kid. I am not gonna be an uncle at seventeen.”

“Why?” Tubbo frowned.

“Because you’re gonna make me be your babysitter,” he flopped back down onto the couch, popping a lollipop into his mouth.

“Only on weekends!”

“Yea right, I have a life, Tubbo,” with that, he lounged back and drew his attention back to the movie.

*****

After a couple of hours, the trick or treaters stopped coming and the movie marathon started to get borning. The three friends soon found themselves retreating to bed. Well- Tubbo retreated to his bed, Tommy and Ranboo each donned their own sleeping bags and huddled up on the floor.

Tommy sighed and closed his eyes. Despite their loud demenours during the day, when the lights went out, they were silent, comfortable in each other’s company. There was a long silence for a while, Tommy was convinced that that was it, that he was just going to fall asleep, but Ranboo turned to look at him.

“Have you. . .been doing okay lately Tommy?” he asked quietly, thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re worried about you,” Tubbo tacked on. Oh, so they both were worried. Great. He really did not want to talk about this right now. It’s Halloween, he’s with his friends, he’s trying to go to sleep, the last thing he wants to talk about is how his mental health is decreasing.

“Worried?” Play dumb, play dumb.

“Tom, you’ve been getting all spacey, you- you always call out of plans,” Tubbo listed, “You had a panic attack in the middle of class the other day.”

Tommy exhaled, “I’m fine. Really- just a little stressed out is all,” he could not see them and he could already tell that they did not buy it, “If there was something wrong, I would tell you. We tell each other everything, yea?”

And, okay. Maybe that was a bit of a dick move to basically bring up the whole hearing aids thing, but it got the two of them to shut up, so he counts that as a win.

“You can always talk to us, Tommy. Okay,” Ranboo tacked on before turning back around.

Tommy hummed and the three of them settled down. Tubbo in his bed, and Tommy and Ranboo snuggling into their sleeping bags on the floor. 

Tubbo 's room was always special because you could hear the cars driving by outside. It was a weird sense of white noise that always lulled Tommy to sleep. 

Yet despite that, tonight he was wide awake. His mind was running rampant with useless anxieties, he was hallway worried that he would get another panic attack, just right there on the floor. The heavy veil of sleep seemed like it would never fall upon his eyes at this point. He tried listening to the cars, he tried tossing and turning, he even tried watching the rise and fall of Ranboo’'s breathing to see if that would bore him to sleep. But nothing was working.

So he turned to his phone. He slipped his entire body- head included- into the sleeping bag so the light wouldn’t disturb anyone, and he got to scrolling mindlessly. The bright light hurt his eyes a little, but they were glued to the screen nonetheless.

 He scrolled until he made it to a live news feed of the city. It was pretty boring if he was being honest. That was until it suddenly switched to another scene. A tall apartment building near the Hudson was engulfed in flames.

Oh, oh no. That looked bad.

They needed help.

. . .

His mask was in his backpack.

Sure, maybe it wasn’t the best idea to bring his hero getup with him to a sleepover, but if one of his friends were to snoop through and find it, he could just say that it was his costume.

He slipped out of the sleeping bag and fumbled over to Tubbo’s bedside table, feeling around in the dark for a sticky note. With a dull pencil, he wrote that he had to leave early. Neither of his friends would probably be satisfied with the excuse, but that sounds like a problem for him tomorrow.

As quietly as possible, he slipped out of the bedroom and made his way to the front door, ignoring Tubbo’s father, who was asleep on the couch with his hand in their candy bowl.

Jumping outside, a brush of cold air slammed against his body. There was a layer of frost coating the sidewalks and his exhales would leave puffs of air. He put on his mask, and got to running.

You could hear the disaster far sooner than you could see it. And that was saying something considering the building that was on fire was enormous. People were crying and speaking hastily to each other, some were even coughing off to the side.

He ran into the burning building before he could even think otherwise. The other experience he had with fire was when that slushie machine in the gas station down the street blew up, but this was a little different. This was a large- large building, aflame at every angle. The bottom floors were already evacuated, which left the top- and arguably most difficult- floors to reach. That did not bode well considering that it was already smoldering hot.

Even worse, the structure is weakening. The building is on the verge of collapse.

He would kill to have Tubbo here right now. 

Despite having superpowers, they did nothing to better his shit stamina system. By the third floor his legs were burning- and not from the fire- and his lungs felt like they were cramping up. All they wanted to do was replenish the oxygen in his body, but the smoke was stopping him from breathing anything considerable.

When he made it to the fourth floor, he spotted a group of people that were breaking the windows open. The air from outside only feeded the fire more, but he could work with this. He ran up behind them and worked to break the windows furthermore. Then he poked his head out to get a good look at how far down they were.

“Do you trust me?” he called over the commotion of the fire and the onlookers down below. At their hesitant nods, he picked them up in the air and lowered them slowly out of the windows and down to the ground. He struggled, urging his entire concentration into making sure that he doesn’t drop anybody as the fire licks at his hands.

When the people made it down to the streets safely, he took one last breath of clean air and ran back into the building. He kept repeating that process on each floor; running in, lowering people down, and repeating. At some point a helicopter arrived on the scene, attempting to quell the raging flames that were eating the building away.

Tommy felt like he was dying by the time he made it up to the top floor, the building probably was too with the concerning noises it was making. He ran through each room, handlessly blowing each door open and scanning the area. It was empty. The place was totally empty. If he could afford to let out a breath of relief, he would. All he needed to do now was get himself out, and then this would be nothing but a successful news story.

Is that inconsiderate to the people whose homes just burned down? At least they were alive.

He rushed to one of the windows, extending his hand to throw it open. He could feel something warm rushing down his face- he was definitely using his powers too much. He just prayed that he had enough energy left to get himself down safely.

He leaned out of the window, preparing to jump when something grabbed onto the back of his hood and yanked him back into the building. He rolled around in the flames before stopping, barely having a chance to look up before receiving a kick to the face. It was too hot for this 

When he looked up, he was surprised to see someone else standing in front of him. Didn’t he check everywhere? Even more surprising, they were wearing a mask- very similar to his own.

“What the fuck?” he spat, trying to get back up to his feet, but that was only met with him getting hit back down again.

“So I heard there was a little superhero running around,” the masked man started. He was standing in the flames almost effortlessly, as if he belonged there. Tommy tried knocking him off of his feet with his powers, but he just got back up again.

“Well, you sure are super,” the man commented, “But so am I.”

And, like flames raging in the building around them, the man's hands lit up like torches. Before Tommy could gawk, a flaming fist was flying at him. He dodged and rolled away just in time for it to miss his face. Thinking fast, he sent a kick of his own to the man.

He doesn’t know how to fight- he’s not prepared for this. This is so much more than helping someone’s cat out of a tree.

Clearly neither of them were the most elegant as they rolled around and wrestled like children roughhousing. It was sloppy and painful. The masked man would throw a flaming punch into his gut, singing his clothes, and he would take his own powers and launch the man away, only for him to come back again.

This was too much, he couldn’t do this. If this fight was to continue, either he would lose or the two of them would collapse with this building. So he did the honorable thing, he ran for the window. His hand reached out for the ledge when his leg was yanked down again.

The man punched him once, twice, and maybe Tommy got a hit or two in, but this was senseless fighting at this point. He didn’t even know who this guy was. He jumped up again, trying to get his body out of the window, but the man followed.

He was dangling halfway out of the window at this point, desperately trying to get this man- and the flames- off of him. The only thing keeping him from falling down onto the streets below was the man’s ironclad grip on his hoodie.

“That was fun, it really was,” the man drawled, the fire around him glowed like hellfire, it made him look like a black silhouette, “We’ll have to do this again sometime, Tommyinnit”

Tommy gasped at the familiar name, and like that, he was delivered one last punch to the face and he was flying forward.

And then down.

He crashed into a building on the way down, slamming his face on it hard enough to crack the mask in half and scrape the side of his face. And with a slam, he landed in a heap on the ground, breathing heavily in the fresh air once again.

What the fuck.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

Who was that?! How the fuck did he do that?!

His mind flashed back to the last thing the man said to him. He knew his name. Not only that, but it was the teasing nickname those three guys he wandered the subways with used.

The subways.

The place where he got his magic powers.

. . .

Holy shit! They got powers too!

That’s what that was. It was one of the three of those guys, using his bullshit magic fire powers to beat him up and throw him off a building. The question now is which one.

Hold on-

-No. The question now is why would they do that. Why would they attack him ? He’s just walking around saving people. What would they have against that?

This was too much to think about. His mind was racing in dozens of different directions and it was getting harder and harder to concentrate on them with the pain on his face growing and growing more unbearable. His shoulder was sore something fierce too, but nothing felt broken. 

There was blood dripping down his face though. Not only from the scrape but from his nose. The spot behind his eyes was burning from how much of his power he used. 

While he laid there on the ground, he thought about his friends back in their apartment. About his empty sleeping bag on the floor and the note on top of it. He thought about what his night would be like if he were there right now; if he had never left. He would probably be asleep right now. Safe, and cozy, and admittedly uncomfortable on the floor, but content. Maybe his stomach would be hurting from how much off brand candy he ate, but that was the most pain he would be in. Not this.

How was he even gonna clean this out? All he had at home was that rinky-dink first aid kit in their bathroom. But there was no way there wasn’t pebbles and dirt in the scrape, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle’s bandaid wasn’t gonna fix that up.

And he couldn’t go to the hospital because Dad would freak out and he would never see the light of day again.

He just. . .had to sneak into his bathroom, and find a youtube video on how to fix this. Yea.

He slowly peeled himself off of the ground. Luckily he was in a secluded alleyway, because sitting in front of him was his mask. Split in two. He would have to glue that back together later. He slipped off his undersuit and hoodie and rolled them around his mask, and then searched for a bag or something to put it all in.

A used paper grocery bag wasn’t the most sanitary thing to use, but it was something. With that, he was up and on his walk back to his apartment. It was super dark out now, not even the trick or treaters were out anymore. His father should be asleep by now, so he won’t have any problems getting in unnoticed. He looked down to his t-shirt, already stained with blood. Yea. He can’t let his father see this.

When he made it to the front door, it was unlocked. Which was suspicious, but he chose to seize this opportunity and slip through.

-Oh no. The lights were on. And there were the sounds of talking coming from the other room. Did Dad invite guests over? He was never told about this. When he entered, the talking in the other room stopped.

“Tom?” his father called out from the kitchen.

Shit. Fuck.

“Yea?” he called back.

“Can you come in here for a minute?” Phil asked.

Shit, fuck, shit.

God dammit.

“Uh,” he called out, “I’m a little busy right now!” he really needed to get to the bathroom, or his bedroom at the very least. Why was his father making this such a challenge?

“Please come in here, Tommy,” his father repeated.

“No! I told you I’m busy,” at this point the anger was leaking in with the panic.

“Tommy,” was all Phil said this time. Fine. Fine, if Phil wanted to see him that bad, then he can see him. Injured or not. 

Making sure to stomp his footsteps extra loud, he barged into the entryway of the kitchen. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth in a scowl, face drenched in blood, he lifted his hand up and snarled, “What?! What do you-”

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Tomtom?”

Chapter Text

“How would you describe your relationship with your father?”

. . .

“Shitty.”

Wilbur wishes he could say that the first thing he did after running away was get therapy.

“Well, it wasn’t always shitty. We were pretty good at the beginning. When Mom was alive.”

But it wasn’t.

“But I think- I think Mom was supposed to be a mom. And Phil was supposed to be a husband.”

No, the first thing he did on that fateful night was sneak into the old bodega across from his family’s apartment.

Twelve o’clock in the morning, he wished himself- and his twin brother across the country- a happy birthday with a breathy exhale. 

Ten minutes after, he packed everything he could into his school backpack; he couldn’t afford to bring anything that wasn’t useful.

Twenty minutes after, he slipped into his baby brother’s room and placed a single note onto his bedside table.

‘Please forgive me,’ he whispered, placing one last kiss on his forehead, brushing back his blonde curls, ‘Please.’

Thirty minutes after, he left his childhood home one last time, closed the door one last time, and rode down the creaky elevator one last time.

And at twelve forty five, he found himself face to face with a familiar shop owner.

“So when she died, he was nothing.”

Not many people know this, but Wilbur didn’t leave immediately. 

The truth is, he stayed in that bodega for a week before he left. For an entire week he stayed right across from his home and not once did he see any signs that he was missing.

“But his kids needed something.”

For that entire week, he hid away like a coward within the dirty walls of that shop, and he watched his kid brother walk himself to school by himself. And for that entire week, all he wanted to do was run out there, and take Tommy’s hand and walk him there himself. But he knew he couldn’t. 

Because if he did, then he would never get another chance to leave. 

“When I was thirteen years old, I was given a father’s day card from my little brother.”

Finally, he got a plane to Europe, to the rest of his life. He didn’t see his brother the day he left.

“I had no one to give a card to that day.”

England was shitty. It was dirty and dark, and three years into his stay there, his doctors diagnosed him with asthma. And if he’s being completely honest, he doesn’t really remember half of what he did up until the age of twenty two.

“I-”

“I really wanted to hate Tommy.”

He had met a couple of guys one night, all playing different instruments. The sound of the music struck chords in his brain and reminded him of the late nights in which he would huddle up on Tommy’s bed and strum him a song on his mother’s old guitar.

“Every time he screamed, and every time he cried, and every time I missed Mom. I wanted to hate him.”

He had brought the guitar with him. It was somewhere in his own shitty apartment, collecting dust.

“But, that kid screaming in the other room was the only thing left of Mom.”

“She died just so he could be born.”

“She hadn’t even met him yet, and she loved him so much that she died for him.”

That was the night he donned his mother’s guitar again, and brought music to the world.

“I would die for him too.”

It didn’t take long for Lovejoy to take off. People loved their sound, their music, their style. Some borderline idolized them like a young Tommy once did. 

“To this day, I still would.”

“Because he shines brighter than the sun, and he laughs sweeter than berries, and he loves as genuinely as a teddy bear.”

The bright lights, the roaring crowds, the screaming into the mic, everything about it was euphoric. It was as if he was living the life he was always destined to.

“Because Tommy was my entire life.”

This was the life he gave up everything for.

“And that’s the problem. Isn’t it?”

Everything for.

“Because that means my life isn’t my own.”

Wilbur was successful, Wilbur was happy, Wilbur was on his own. But Wilbur would never truly be whole.

“It was a dangerous, and grimy, and dirty set of thoughts. But they were sprouted in the crevices of my brain, and they made me, simply put-”

Because his little brother was still home. Alone. With their father, but that was the same thing as being alone.

“-angry.”

“Angry and loud and vicious. And I just wanted my dad.”

Every time he went to bed, he wondered if Tommy had tucked himself in already, if he had a healthy sleep schedule. Every time he went out for celebratory dinners, he would wonder if Tommy could feed himself alright, if he had a healthy diet. Did he get himself to school? Did he make any friends? Did he read any books?

“So I became reckless, ruthless, anything in hopes of getting him to notice me; my anger.”

And even though he didn’t want to, he thought about his father. Whether he was home or not; working or not. If he was sad or happy, if he had changed at all.

“I smoked weed for a while, started getting into fights with kids at school.”

“I would fight with anybody if it meant I could be loud.”

And he thought about Technoblade. His brother, his twin, his partner in crime, his other half. About how he was doing in college, if he had graduated or took more years. Had he cut his hair? Gotten new glasses?

“I started sleeping around with women I didn’t know. Men too, if I was feeling extra devious.”

At the age of twenty four, nearing twenty five, he took a plane to California- Technoblade’s new home. It was time he paid his brother a visit.

“And then, at the age of seventeen. . .”

The moment they met eyes again felt world stopping. The first thing he noticed-

His hair was pink. That was certainly something. And way longer. He was less skeletal than when he lived back home. And Wilbur could see it, even in his stature, that his brother was way happier here. 

They both stood there in bated breath, paralyzed in what to do.

‘Hey,’ Techno breathed first.

“I got a girl pregnant.”

“And I did the one thing I hated my father for.”

“I left.”

With Techno’s words, Wilbur closed the distance. And like that, the two estranged twins were intertwined in a hug. Strong yet loving, secure yet desperate. They were family, they were.

“I don’t even know the kid’s name.”

They swung back and forth as they held each other.

‘Hey’ Wilbur whispered into his brother’s shoulder.

“Phil doesn’t know that he’s a grandfather. Tommy and Techno don’t know that they’re uncles.”

“I don’t think they’ll ever know.”

They fell into an easy routine after that. Technoblade was so different from the last time he had seen him. They both were. They grew up. They were whole new human beings, and yet, deep down underneath that, they were still brothers. And that familiarity can never go away.

“A part of me hopes that the mother never tells them that I’m their father.”

They talked about a lot of things, catching up. They talked about Wilbur’s rising stardom. They talked about Technoblade’s endeavors. 

‘I actually dropped out of my English major a year into it,’ he shrugged, taking another sip of his tea.

‘Really?’

‘Yea, I just wasn’t enjoying it.’

‘So what are you doing now?’

‘I just finished up medical school last year. I’ve been working in the ICU ever since.’

“I don’t want them seeing me on TV. Living a life with them not in it.”

They never brought up their other family. They avoided the topic like the plague.

“Because I know that someone’s already doing that.”

“Every time I’m performing, or on tour, or on an interview. All I think about is how Tommy is out there.”

“Sitting in front of our shitty old box TV. Watching.”

What would he even ask Techno about? He left first.

“I wish I could have taken him with me.”

“Every day I do.”

Techno was barely even present even when he did live there.

“I also wish that being a teen father was the thing to get me to run away.”

“But it wasn’t.”

He got the phone call when he least expected it.

. . .

“It was a bad day, okay? Phil had been gone for ages, and my grades were fucked, and I just stressed out. From a lot of things.”

It was in the middle of the week, the middle of the day. It was sunny, and cheery, and despite how busy he was, he had gotten the call at a moment of down time. He was sitting in the kitchen as Technoblade made pasta for a late lunch.

“And I yelled at Tommy.”

“I yelled, and I screamed until he was crying and he hid. From me.”

Wilbur was watching his brother cut up some tomatoes as his phone started to vibrate. He looked down to the caller id. It was an unknown number.

“I don’t even remember what I said. But I know that I called him selfish.”

‘Who is it?’ Techno asked, peeking at his quizzical expression towards the phone. 

“He wasn’t selfish. He was nine.”

‘I don’t know,’ he replied, picking up the phone.

“But I saw the fear in his eyes that I had never seen before.”

“And I decided that it was time that I be selfish.”

He probably shouldn’t pick up the call. He was considered a celebrity, and it was either a fan or a spam call. But something felt off about it.

He hit accept.

“And so I left. My family, and my brother, and my kid.”

‘Hello?’ he asked, putting the phone up to his ear.

‘Wilbur?’ a familiar voice asked from across the line.

Wilbur’s eyes lit up, his body stiffened, and his heart dropped.

“And I left so I, for once in my life, could finally be fucking happy. Not temporary happy, not ‘good day’ happy, but a soul deep, fulfilling happy.”

‘Phil?’ he breathed in horror. Technoblade stopped in his tracks and turned around, looking at him in equal surprise.

‘Wilbur. I’m so glad I could get a hold of you.’

‘W-what are- how did- why- what?’ he stuttered, uncountable emotions flickering through his chest. Confusion, fear, anger. Anger that he hadn’t felt since he was a teenager. Anger that was quickly resurfacing.

“And I left, and I left, and I left.”

‘Wilbur I-’

‘No-’ he got himself together, ‘What the fuck are you doing calling me? And why should I not hang up on you right now?’

“Just like Phillip Watson.”

‘I need your help.’

Wilbur scoffed, ‘Yea right. This was fun, Phil, but i’m gonna hang up now-’

‘-It’s about Tommy.’

“Just like Wilbur Soot.”

. . .

‘What?’

‘He’s- he’s acting different,’ Wilbur rolled his eyes, ‘He’s angry, and he’s been sneaking out, and he had a panic attack in class today.’

Wilbur took back that eye roll. Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. He should have never left Tommy alone with Phil. Clearly something happened, or the neglect became too much, and now he was hurt. Tommy was hurt.

‘Something happened to him at Homecoming,’ Phil continued, and Wilbur’s stomach twisted at the connotations of that, ‘And something is wrong, but he won’t tell me. And,’ Phil took a deep breath, ‘I think you’re the only one that can help.’

Wilbur exhaled. He wanted to throw up, he wanted to crush his phone, he wanted to bash his head against the wall. He wanted to burn down the entire state of New York.

(He looked at Technoblade, their eyes met, and both of them knew what would happen next.)

He wanted to see Tommy again.

“Just like dear old Dad.”

‘We’ll start packing.’

*****

“Tomtom?” he breathed, as everything came to a rolling stop. His brain, his heart, his lungs, his entire world. Because just that- his entire world- was standing right in front of him.

Oh how he had grown. 

Well, of course he would. The last time he saw him, he was a young child. The person standing in front of him- well, puberty had hit him like a truck. He was tall, and lanky, and he walked around like he owned the place.

The kid entered the apartment in a bad mood, and Wilbur could immediately tell why when he stormed in clearly injured. Blood was smeared across his face and dripped down his shirt.

When the two of them met eyes, Tommy froze. His eyes shot open and his mouth dropped down wordlessly, and all of the previous emotion the kid was expressing fizzled out immediately. 

Tommy- Tommy was here. Tommy was here. Standing right in front of him. His sunshine, his baby brother, the thing taking up all of his thoughts for the last seven years.

He flung himself out of his seat and before anybody- not even himself- could tell what was happening, he encased his brother in a bone crushing hug.

He’d always thought about this moment; when the two would meet again. When he would hug Tommy again. The moment was so desired, so sought after, it was his only wish. For as much as he hyped this moment up, it felt. . .underwhelming. The click he was looking for was not there. As he held onto Tommy like a lifeline, Tommy didn’t hug back. For a long time, the blonde just stood there dumbfounded, as if he wasn’t quite processing what was happening. Eventually, his arms slowly came up to hug back, but it felt more as if he was doing it out of obligation.

Despite his entire soul screaming not to, he pulled back, holding Tommy’s face in his hands. Oh, how he’d grown.

“You’re hurt,” he announced. Yea, maybe they should get on that, “I’ll patch you up.”

Technoblade- the doctor- snickered from the sidelines, “Cute. I’ll go get the first aid kit.”

“It’s under the bathroom sink,” Phil notified. Right, Phil was here. The man who couldn’t bother to be there for his kids. The man who Tommy was looking to for reassurance.

“What are they doing here?” he asked, despite Wilbur standing right there and Technoblade surely being within earshot. He was giving Phil a look, and the old man was giving one right back.

Over everything in these past seven years, Wilbur had never forgotten little Tommy’s voice. How it was sweet like sugar, scratchy like it too. His voice was different now. It was deeper, and more grown. Quiet and breathless. Wilbur had to do a double take to make sure that it was really his brother. Tommy was never quiet. 

“I, um,” Phil piped up from behind him, “I thought it would be nice for us to be together again for a while. As a family.”

Sure. He’s here for Tommy, and Tommy only. There was no way he was gonna let his old man worm his way back into his life. Not anymore.

Tommy didn’t reply to what Phil said, his concerned and panicked look just deepened. This was. . .certainly not the reaction he was expecting. Excitement? If he was lucky. Anger? Most realistically. But shutting down? What was going on?

“Alright Munchkin. Sit down,” Technoblade reintroduced himself into the room, first aid kit in hand.

Tommy didn’t say a word, but he did what he was told and sat down in one of the kitchen table chairs. He looked numb, like he was simply moving where he was supposed to go while he brain tried to process what was happening. Techno placed the first aid kit on the table, rifling through its contents until he came across some antibacterial and some gauze. Wilbur also noticed that he took out a pair of pliers for good measure. Personally, Wilbur would've just used some Neosporin or something, but Techno had to go above and beyond.

After collecting his supplies, he crouched over Tommy and held his face in his hands, inspecting the damage.

“How’d this happen?” he asked, eyes analyzing every bit of his little brother’s face.

“Uh, I tripped on the way home,” Tommy replied simply.

“Sure.”

“I did! I slipped and hit my face against a building.”

“Is that why your nose is bleeding too?”

“Tech, give him a break. We just got here,” Wilbur intervened.  Tommy already looked unhappy at their arrival, the last thing he wanted was for a fight to break out in the first ten minutes of them meeting again.

“Alright,” Techno drawled, clearly not happy that he had to end his barrage of questions, “This is gonna sting, I gotta get the pebbles out,” he turned to Tommy. The latter hummed, there was an exasperated twinge to it.

Despite his preparations, Tommy still sucked in when Techno started cleaning the wound.

What should have been filled with excited and youthful chatter was now diluted into an awkward silence as Techno patched up Tommy’s face. Phil and Wilbur stood off to the side watching. Wilbur was half convinced that their father wasn’t there by how quiet the man was being.

“So, Toms,” the illusive man piped up, “How was the movie night?”

“Um, It was alright. Ranboo wouldn't let us eat all the candy though. ‘Said we had to save them for trick or treaters,” Tommy mumbled. The kid replied to their father so easily.

“Ranboo?” Wilbur asked.

“Yea.” Tommy didn’t clarify.

“Well, what did you dress up as?”

“I didn’t. Dress up as anything.”

“You used to love dressing up.”

“Yes, I did.”

“Alright, stop talking for a minute, I gotta put on the bandage,” Techno butted in, fiddling with the wrapper of a large square bandage. He stuck it to the side of Tommy’s face and leaned back, seemingly finished.

“I was-” Phil started, but Tommy interrupted him,

“I’m gonna go to bed now.”

“Oh, okay. We can all talk in the morning,” Phil leaned back more.

“I’ll join you, Toms. I wanna see your room,” Wilbur offered. Tommy faltered, and bit the inside of his cheek.

“Okay.”

With an awkward laugh, he turned to follow his little brother, and left Phil and Techno alone in the kitchen.

Tommy’s room had changed. Of course it would. He’s grown, he’s a teenager now. The sun and moon wall stickers were replaced with band posters, the toys scattered across the wood flooring now replaced with clothes and empty plastic water bottles. Wilbur would describe it more as a cave than a room at this point.

“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he commented, landing his gaze on the electric lava lamp that was doing it’s own thing on his tall dresser.

Tommy snickered to himself, but Wibur could hear it, “Okay.” Is all he said. The younger placed his brown paper bag on the ground near his bed and then slowly lowered himself down onto the cushions. Wilbur couldn’t help but notice that Henry, Tommy’s stuffed cow, was still sitting lovingly near the pillows. It looked more worn, like it’s preciousness had never gone away after all these years.

“I was thinking,” he started, looking everywhere but his brother, “That tomorrow, we could hang out. Just you and me. Catch up, y’know.”

“Uh, maybe,” Tommy’s voice did that thing where his voice got all high. He only did that when he was beside himself trying to be polite, “I’ll see if I’m free after school.”

“Oh. I could walk you there, if you would like.”

“No, that’s okay,” Tommy said simply, “I can walk myself.”

Wilbur frowned. He could cut the awkward tension in the room with a knife. Tommy looked as if he was waiting for him to leave already. And despite his very soul saying he should stay and wrap his little brother in his arms until his dying days, he knew that it was probably best that he left as well. 

“Well, we had a long flight over here. I think I might hit the sack,” he sighed.

“Okay.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

“Sure.”

He looked over his brother one last time, and exited the room with the gentle click of a door. There was no commotion from the kitchen, so it looks like the other two retreated to their rooms for the night.

Wilbur breathed out, settling back into the old halls that he swore he would never walk through again. Every knot in the rug, every peel in the wallpaper, it was filled with dour thoughts and horrid memories. But behind that- pulling back the layers- these halls were filled with childhood. With the mischievous whispering of twins, with the screaming of a blonde toddler, with the hums of a tired mother.

He walked back into the cold bedroom he used to call his own. Technoblade was already in there, unpacking his suitcases on his side of the room. It was way more empty than his own, Techno had been given time to pack before he left. Wilbur’s side of the room was much more strewn about, with a layer of dust resting on top, nobody had touched it in years.

Well, he certainly left this place in a mess. Back when he was little- like little little, back when his father loved them- he was always told to keep the room clean, because he was sharing it. It was their first dose of responsibility.

Later- not long later- on in life, he would learn what real responsibility felt like. 

After Techno left, the place was kinda made into a pigsty. He could hear his brother’s complaints from here.

“You got kicked out pretty quick,” Techno commented, still facing his bed, “How did your ‘rekindling’ go?”

Wilbur sighed, “He’s definitely. . .not warm.”

“Well, yea. Phil said there was something going on with him.”

“I thought he was just overreacting cause Tommy finally had enough of his shit,” he signed, plopping down onto his bed.

“Well I wouldn’t be surprised. The kid soldiered through neglect alone for what? Seven years?”

Wilbur stomach knotted, he did not want to talk about this right now. He didn’t want to talk about it ever.

“You left first,” he murmured underneath his breath.

“And you left second,” Techno replied casually, “We’re all at fault here.”

He fiddled around with his hands, picking at his cuticles. This was not the reunion he had expected. Was that selfish of him to say? That after seven years of radio silence, his little brother would just come running back into his arms.

Techno paused before he said something else, dangerously low, “You didn’t- did you see any bruises on him?”

“Phil wouldn't, ” he warned at the very notion.

“I know, I know. I’m just making sure. Seven years is a long time,” Techno said placatingly. Now that the idea was planted in his head, he couldn’t help but worry.

“He came home all injured,” he recalled.

“I was there.”

“Yea, but- but we were with Phil  the entire time, so that had to have been someone else.”

“Do you think he’s getting bullied?”

“Late at night on a weekend?”

“Mugged?”

“I dunno Wilbur, but something is happening.”

Wilbur closed his eyes and ran his fingers across the surface of his face. There was something going on here that they didn’t know about, and it was hurting their baby brother. When he opened his eyes, his twin brother was just finishing up unpacking, and was now looking through the abandoned boxes underneath his bed. It was so easy to reunite with Technoblade. It was as if they slipped back into routine like them being together was meant to be. So why was this so hard?

He wanted Tommy back. He wanted his Tommy back. The Tommy that laughed and ran around, that talked his mouth off and sung along to Wilbur’s songs. If not for himself then for Tommy. If not for the little boy he used to know, then for the teenager who’s light he wanted to see returned to his eyes. 

If Phil couldn’t help him, shoot- if Technoblade couldn't help him, then Wilbur could.

For his brother, his best friend, his boy. For Tommy.

“So do you think that leaving home was a good decision for you?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know. I love where I am in life, but I gave up so much to get here.”

“Would you ever return home?”

. . .

“No. I don’t think I would.”

Chapter Text

What. The fuck.

When Tommy woke up, he half expected to find himself on the floor of Tubbo’s bedroom. Maybe everything that happened last night was just a shitshow of a dream, and he was on Tubbo’s floor, and there were no crazy arsonists running around, and his father- only his father- was waiting for him to come home.

But as he brushed his hands across his face, he felt a bandage lined on his cheek, a reminder that this was, in fact, real, and his brothers were somewhere in this apartment right now. His brothers were home . The sentence didn’t even sound real. His family went together like the same side of a magnet, they weren’t supposed to coexist. Tommy half expected to never see them again.

He didn’t know how to feel.

He had spent so long yearning for their return; just to see their faces again. Too long. And if he were angry at his father for every little thing, then he was downright contemptuous at his brothers for every little thing they didn’t do.

He can’t sort any of his thoughts through, quite frankly, he was perfectly fine before, when he didn’t have to.

All he has to do is get his backpack, and get out of this apartment without anybody noticing him.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he was fumbling throughout his bedroom. He- well he didn’t look great. There were prominent bags underneath his eyes and his hair was all knotted. From what he could see of his wound, a bruise was blossoming underneath the bandage.

Shit, his mask.

He would need to fix that. Where could he get his hands on some gorilla glue? Maybe the shop class? He’s not a vocational student, but the professor, Mr. Sam, used to teach his second grade class. The guy is really nice, he would surely lend him some glue. Then he could fix the mask, and get back onto patrol. No brothers, no worries, just Dotratia and the streets of New York.

He should also probably get on that villain thing, but he’ll burn that bridge when he gets there.

. . .

Okay, maybe he won’t be the one burning, but he’ll extinguish that bridge when he gets there.

There was no sound coming from the other side of the door, that was a good sign. His brothers were probably still sleeping from jet lag. If the news was right, they were living over in California. 

His predictions were correct, there were no twins to be found as he made his way over to the kitchen, his father was there though. He was in his usual spot on the couch, and there were two pieces of toast on the counter. It was almost as if things were back to normal. The only thing suggesting otherwise was the first aid kit that was still sitting open on the kitchen table.

He silently walked over and bit into his first piece of toast.

“What are they doing here?” He asked again. He got an answer last night, but it wasn’t the answer he wanted. 

Phil took a moment to reply, “I don’t want to lie to you Tommy. I asked them to come.”

“Why?” He took another bite.

“I know you’re having a rough go of it, and I thought it would be nice for you to see your brothers again.”

“I am not having a rough time, Dad.”

Phil didn’t reply to that, so Tommy continued.

“And why do you think bringing them here would help?”

“I know you miss them, Tommy. We both do,” Phil turned around to look him in the eyes. Tommy frowned.

“Yea but clearly they don’t miss us. I don’t want to talk to them if they think I’m gonna be the same annoying kid that made them leave in the first place.”

“ Tommy .”

“Dad.”

Phil sighed, “Look, just- try, okay. Maybe it would be good for us- all of us- to be a family again. If we all just try.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, “Whatever. I gotta get to school.”

“Alright. Call me if you need anything.”

Tommy doesn’t want to think about what that means. He has a so-called panic attack once and suddenly his dad expects him to call him every time the slightest thing goes wrong. 

The only thing he has to worry about at school is coming up with an excuse for why he left his friends house so early. Maybe he can find something to distract them

*****

“Tommy! Did you hear?” Tubbo started the conversation excitedly the second Tommy sat down at his desk. His short friend was bouncing up and down in his seat, while Ranboo looked a little worse for wear. That’s what he gets for sleeping on the floor on a school night.

“Hear what?” he urged.

“There’s a supervillain now. The news is calling him the Arsonist. Isn’t that badass?” Tubbo drummed his fingers against the desk.

“You’re excited that there’s a supervillain running around?” Tommy questioned. Wasn’t Tubbo literally working with Dotratia? That’s a real dick move to fanboy over the villain.

“I have to agree with Tommy here. You’re happy that there’s a magic maniac lighting buildings on fire and putting all of our lives in danger?” Ranboo added on.

“Well, no . But it’s exciting to think about. And besides, Dotratia is here to protect us.”

“Dotratia literally got his ass kicked last night,” Ranboo refuted. 

Okay, that’s a little harsh. How was he to have any clue that there was gonna be a villain there? Or that there was a villain in the first place, or that someone else even remotely had powers? That, and he was not put into this job to fight in hand to hand combat, or run through burning buildings, or fall off of burning buildings-

“-face?” Tommy cued back into the conversation, both of his friends were looking at him quizzically. 

“What?” he shook out of his stupor.

“I asked what happened to your face?” Tubbo reiterated.

Right, he forgot that there was a bandage on his face, or an injury in the first place. How was he supposed to explain this to his friends? How was he supposed to tell them why he left? Or his situation going on at home? Or his situation going on outside of home ?

There was a hand on his arm, at the touch he jumped a little, subconsciously preparing himself to take a punch- or deliver one himself.

But the hand didn’t belong to the Arsonist , it belonged to Ranboo, who looked really worried.

“Tommy, you’re hyperventilating,” Ranboo spoke, eyebrows furrowing.

“I fell-” Tommy bit out as a response to the previous question.

“Are you okay?” Tubbo asked.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you should go home-”

“No!” Both of his friends jumped at his exclamation, “I don’t want to go home.”

And he didn’t. He didn’t want to go back to the place where he knew his brothers were. Not right now. 

He quickly got his breathing under control. Nothing was wrong. Literally, he was just in his Spanish classroom, next to his two best friends. Nothing can hurt him.

“Tommy,” Ranboo broke the silence when he saw that Tommy was relatively fine again, “Why don’t you want to go home.”

He didn’t respond. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was coming up with a way to dance around the truth. Tubbo must have taken this the wrong way, because he spoke up.

“Tommy.” He urged him to answer the question. Tubbo had been his best friend for seventeen years; for his entire life. He had been with him through thick and thin. He knows about Tommy’s family life.

He knows about Tommy’s family life.

“My brothers are home.”

Tubbo’s eyes lit up, “What?”

“You have brothers?” Ranboo questioned.

“When did they come back?” Tubbo asked urgently, basically cutting off Ranboo.

“Last night,” he said simply, rubbing his eyes.

“Did they. . .do that to you?” Tubbo dared to ask. Maybe it wasn’t an absurd thing to ask, seeing as he could still see the scars that lined his friend’s body peeking from underneath his shirt. That, and that was kind of where the conversation started.

“No, no. I did fall. On my walk home,” He lied.

“So is that why you left last night?” Ranboo asked.

“Yea, I got a text that they wanted me home. I kinda had to listen,” Okay, maybe he felt a little bad lying to his best friends.

Tubbo scoffed, “Fuckin’ dickheads, thinking they can just come leave and come back.”

“That’s what I’m saying! But my dad thinks we need to be a family again,” He swung his head down and lightly hit it against the desk to further prove his exasperation.

“If you wanted, you could stow away at my house tonight,” Ranboo offered, “My cousin’s still staying over but he wouldn’t mind.”

Tommy sighed, “I just might take you up on that offer.”

With that, Tommy leaned back in his seat. Just underneath his desk, he caught a glimpse of his phone; a notification popping up.

A news article.

A string of deadly crimes arising across the city by the hands of the Arsonist proves existence of supervillains. Can Dotratia save us?

*****

By the time he made it to the other side of the school, the end-of-school rush of students had pretty much died down. The door to the shop class was open, and there was no sound coming from the other side except for some light shuffling. As Tommy skid to a stop at the door, he got a good peak as to what was inside.

It was pretty much a glorified garage. There were tools and saw dust scattered all over the place and Tommy had half the mind to question whether that was safe or not. The back wall- which was a stingy white brick- was covered in painted hand prints of different size and color. There were dates scattered around too, it looked as if it was from the students of years prior.

The only other person in the room was the exact person Tommy was looking for. 

“How does someone go from teaching elementary school  to high school shop?” he called out jokingly, still leaning against the door. Mr. Sam looked up from where he was hunched over a project. The man was quick to snatch off his cheap plastic goggles and smile at the presence of the blonde haired boy. It was good to know that after all these years, he still remembered him.

“ Wow , you’ve grown,” he laughed, standing up. Tommy couldn’t help but smile as well.

“I would hope so. The last time you saw me, I was eight,” he walked forward and they both met in the middle of the room.

“I didn’t know you went here. Why did you never visit?” Mr. Sam was still taking in the sight of Tommy being a teenager.

“Well you only transferred here this year, and after that I never got the chance to.”

“Well. How are things? How’s the family?” He asked. Back when Tommy was a little kid, Mr. Sam would see the signs Tommy emitted about his shitty home life. He would see the fathers day card to his brother, and how no one would ever come to parent teacher conferences. Every now and then he would even bring the kid some lunch. Tommy knew that by him asking that question, it was more than just surface level small talk.

“It’s. . .something. It’s certainly something,” he sighed, “You’d be surprised to know that my father is in the right now.”

“Really?”

“Yea. The man got good,” he said jokingly, “It’s my brothers that are the problem now.”

“Are you guys having a fight or something? You don’t have to talk about it, but if you need to, I’m here,” the teacher leaned against one of the counters. Even after all these years, Mr. Sam hadn’t changed. He is still so caring for his students.

Tommy sighed and brushed a hand through his hair, “About a year after I graduated from your class, Wilbur left. I hadn’t seen either of them since yesterday.”

“He just left?”

“Yea, In the middle of the night. And- and yesterday, they just both come back . Like they’re allowed to do that,” he grumbled.

“And how are you feeling about all of this?” Mr. Sam urged.

“Angry, and- I dunno- mad .”

“Have you talked to them about this?”

“What? No . As far as I’m concerned, I’m just gonna avoid them until they leave,” He crossed his arms, ignoring the way his face started to heat up.

“ Well , do you miss them?” Mr. Sam asked, quirking an eyebrow up.

Tommy opened his mouth as to say something, but stopped midway, “-Hold on. You’re not my therapist. I literally just came here for some gorilla glue.”

Mr. Sam laughed a little, but turned around to shuffle through the nearest drawer. Tommy watched as he kissed his teeth and pulled out a half empty bottle of glue, “Is this good?”

“That’ll do perfectly. Thanks,” Tommy caught the bottle of glue as it was tossed to him. All things considered, the bottle was in poor condition. It was covered in some type of soot and there was dried glue all over the cap, but he would take what he could get, “I should probably get going.”

“Alright,” Mr. Sam leaned back, “But if you ever need somewhere to go when home becomes too much, I’m here in the shop until five thirty. Or if you ever just want to catch up. I’ve missed you, Tommy.”

“Don’t test your luck, Mr. Sam. I’ll never leave if you give me the chance. I’m an invasive species,” He jeered as he walked backwards towards the exit. He stopped at the door, “But really, I’ll make sure to stop by sometime. Maybe I can get my friend Tubbo to join the robotics club.”

Mr. Sam laughed, “You have a nice day, Tommy.”

*****

Tommy made it home from school at the exact same time Phil made it home from work. They ran into each other right outside of the door, Phil fumbling with his keys.

“So you just. . .left them alone in the house?” he asked, walking up to his dad.

“Yea? They’re adults,” he replied, getting ready to open the door.

“I’m placing the bet now, they put saran wrap on the toilet or some petty shit,” he snuffed. Eventually, the door opened and the two of them walked in. They were immediately greeted with the aroma of cooking. Oh god.

In sync, they looked at each other, walked into the kitchen, and stopped dead in their tracks at what they saw. 

The table was adorned- drowning in plates of steaming food. Multiple sides, all homemade. Four plates and silverware already set up. Wilbur was sitting at the table, looking at them excitedly. Technoblade was still cooking at the stove, his long pink hair in a ponytail.

“Phil, Tommy,” Wilbur reguared them. Tommy couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t call Phil ‘Dad’ anymore, “Welcome home. We made dinner.”

“ I made dinner. He set the table,” Techno quipped, and then turned around, “I made steak. I didn’t know how you guys liked it, so I made it medium.”

Tommy and Phil stared at the food, and for a moment Tommy could feel Phil’s eyes boring into his side uncomfortably. This was. . .a lot. And his brothers were waiting expectantly for his reaction.

“I’m vegetarian.”

More silence. 

“Since when were you a vegetarian?” Wilbur asked from where he was sitting.

“It’s probably just one of those teenage fads-” Techno started.

“Five years.”

“What?”

“I’ve been vegetarian for five years.”

Every family member stood in awkward silence. The twins just kinda looked at Tommy as if he were a fish out of water.

“I can uh- We have some Beyond Meat in the freezer if you wanted to cook that up,” Phil offered.

“It’s okay, I can just pour a bowl of cereal. I gotta work on a project for school anyway,” Technically that’s true. He got the glue from school, therefore it’s a project from school.

“You can still sit down with us,” Phil offered hopefully. Tommy gave him a look, to which the older was totally oblivious to.

“Fine.”

He shuffled over to the cabinet that held all the cereals. Which in all honesty wasn’t a lot. Tommy strictly ate toast in the mornings, the colorful boxes with animal mascots on them were mostly used for snacks. He took a box of corn flakes, greeted the tiger on the front of the box, and poured some into a bowl. The carton of milk had just enough left in it to fill his bowl. Tossing the carton into the trash, he took his seat at the table.

He took a hearty bite of cereal- keeping his head down- before Wilbur piped up and said something, “How’s the cereal?”

“Better than eating dead bodies,” he replied bluntly, shoveling another bite of cereal into his mouth. Wilbur winced and went back to his own food, “Can I go over Ranboo’s tonight?” he asked his father. Phil frowned. 

“I dunno, Toms. I don’t know if I feel comfortable with you going out at night right now,” he replied.

“What?! Why?” he whined, food still in his mouth.

“ Because , there’s apparently supervillains now and I don’t want you getting hurt,” he said pointedly. Tommy frowned.

“That’s bullshit. I’m just walking to Ranboo’s.”

“And I’m saying you can’t. Not right now.”

“Oh, come on Old Man. Why not let the kid live a little,” Wilbur piped up. Tommy grimaced. For a good second he was blissfully unaware that they were here, “What are the chances a big scary supervillian is gonna target some kid civilian anyway.”

“Wilbur, I’m the adult here and I’m saying that it’s not safe,” Phil furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m an adult too,” Wilbur raised his hands, “And I’m saying that maybe your kids can take care of themselves. They’ve surely done it before.”

“ Wilbur! ”

Tommy groaned under his breath and hid his face in his hands as the conversation- bordering on argument- started to get louder and louder. And not loud in the way they used to fight like before Wilbur left. But in the adult loud. Like, a conversation but passive aggressive.

He turned his head to the right slightly, making eye contact with Technoblade who looked equally as uncomfortable. They shared expressions, both acknowledging that the older was not going to butt his head into this business.

Tommy sighed, “Wilbur, I don’t need you to stick up for me.”

“What?” Wilbur faltered.

“I’m not a child . I’m not gonna throw a fit because Dad is being a worrywart. What I am going to do,” he stood up from the table, picking up his bowl of cereal, “Is go to my room and finish up my project,” he looked to Technoblade, “Thanks for the dinner.”

With that, he swiftly walked out of the kitchen, wishing to not spend a single second longer in there. When he retreated back to his bedroom, he leaned his entire body against the back of the door, and let out a deep breath that he didn’t know he was holding in.

This was stupid.

How could Phil possibly think it was a good idea to invite the twins back over.

He looked down at his soggy cereal. Whatever.

He dropped the bowl onto his dresser and went over to his backpack. Getting out the two severed pieces of the mask and the old bottle of gorilla glue, he started repairing the broken object.

The thing fitted together somewhat flawlessly, there was barely even a line showing that there was a break there in the first place. It took longer than he would like to admit just holding the two pieces together, waiting for the glue to dry. By the time it was done, his fingers were cramping a little.

He looked at the mask in his hands. This- being Dotratia- it was supposed to be his getaway. It was supposed to be his breath of fresh air, his chance to blow off some steam, to make people happy. But now, he looked at the mask and all he thought about was the supervillian roaming around somewhere out there.

It was his duty to stop him.

And that started with going on patrol.

He slipped his special earpiece into his right ear and readied his voice to sound a little lower than it usually is. Unsurprisingly, Tubbo was ready on the other end.

“Bossman! Are you okay?” he asked from the other side of the call, “I saw what happened on the news. Why didn’t you call me?”

You were asleep “You weren’t on call.”

“ Still . That was insane! What do you know about the guy?”

Should he tell him the villain's identity? Sure, he didn’t know which one of the three dudes was the fire maniac. His closest guess had to be Sapnap, considering he was the one that kept using that annoying nickname. He doesn’t really know. But he does know Tubbo. And he does know that if he gives him any of their names, that he’ll go digging, and he will go and get himself into danger.

“Um, not really,” he lied. Tubbo hummed. 

“Nothing. Not even a little hint as to what could be happening?” Tubbo urged, “There are people getting magical powers willy nilly and there’s no explanation as to why.”

As much as that thought is scary, he knows where this is all originating. It was whatever was in that weird bottle that George dropped.

“All I know is that the guy can manipulate fire and like- stand in it and shit. No wonder they’re calling him the Arsonist.”

There was typing on the other end, “Fire powers, that’s good to know. If I can- shit .”

“What?” Tommy sat up straighter in his bed.

“Speak of the devil. There’s been reports of a fire in the abandoned factories district near the pier. The- the place that used to be the bouncy house arena. They’re saying the Arsonist is there.”

Immediately, Tommy jumped out of bed and ran around his room, gathering up his hero getup.

“Shit. Are there people there?”

“No, it doesn’t look like it. But I’m worried about all the old machinery that’s still there. It could easily explode.”

“I’m on my way now-”

There was a knock at his door. Tommy stopped dead in his tracks.

And then turned the earpiece off.

“Yes?” He raised his voice so the person on the other side of the door could hear him,

“Tommy? Can I come in?”

Wilbur. Of course it’s Wilbur. Why couldn’t he just leave him alone?

Tommy carefully took his mask and hid it underneath his pillow, “Sure.”

The door carefully opened, revealing Wilbur Soot in all his glory. Glory being a t-shirt, jeans, and a really messy mop of unbrushed hair.

“So I talked with Phil. He’ll let you go to your friends if I walk you,” he said, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Tommy tapped his foot against the floor anxiously, he did not have time for this, “Uh, it’s fine. I can just stay here.”

“Nah. You should get to hang out with your friends. Let me walk you,” Wilbur insisted.

Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. He needed to go.

“Okay! Okay, fine. Give me a minute to get ready,” his eyes darted around the room. Wilbur’s face lit up in a bright smile.

“Okay, I’ll be out in the living room,” his voice was high pitched, something he did when he was really happy.

God dammit.

When Wilbur closed the door, Tommy took a good minute to just sit there dumbfounded.

“ Fuck me. ”

Chapter Text

When Tommy and Wilbur took to the streets, Tommy had to make sure that his hero costume was stuffed way down at the bottom of his bag.

The next thing he did was panic in his mind as he came up with the most believable excuse for why he couldn’t go over Ranboo’s. Not that he didn’t want to go over to the guy’s house, but he kinda had places to be. 

And said places were currently on fire.

The most likely plan was for him to just have Wilbur drop him off at some random location and call it a day. But chances are the older one wants to meet Ranboo. Because if Wilbur likes to do anything currently, it’s dig his head into Tommy's business. 

Which leaves him with another option: actually go to Ranboo’s house, and then convince Ranboo to let him leave. But not only does that make him suspicious, but it also takes time and cue back to the current arson thing.

Of course, he could always punch Wilbur and sprint away. Admittedly quick, and Wilbur’s face does look like it deserves a good punching, but something tells him that maybe that’s not a good idea. Especially considering that the guy looks like he’s about to have a stroke with whatever social interaction he’s trying to initiate anyway. He’s in enough pain as it is.

All things considered, Tommy doesn’t know why Wilbur wanted to go on this walk with him. All they’re doing is walking along the street dead silent. Tommy could almost hear his anxious heart beating through his ribcage. There was no doubt that Tubbo was freaking out as well, trying to get in contact with Dotratia.

“So, um,” Wilbur broke the silence from his right, “Before I left, I said some things. And I- I yelled at you, and I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. I never meant any of it.”

. . .

“What?” he looked to Wilbur, lifting one of his eyebrows in question.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Wilbur said more soundly.

“What are you talking about?”

“What? Do you not remember?” Wilbur frowned.

“No. I have no clue what you’re talking about,” he responded genuinely.

“You don’t. . .remember?” Wilbur sounded like a child who just had their heart broken. Meanwhile, Tommy was wracking his brain for what Wilbur could be talking about.

“No? Why would I?” They were nearing Ranboo’s apartment building, “ Oh no, big brother Wilby called me a brat eight years ago . I’ve got other things to worry about big man.”

He tried to joke off the situation, but Wilbur did not seem happy about that. It looked as if he was going to say something else, but Tommy stopped him before the conversation could continue.

“This is the place. . .I can take it from here,” he looked to his brother.

“I can take you inside. I want to say hi to your friend,” Wilbur smiled through his downtrodden expression. Tommy kept his exasperated groan inside, instead sighing, and pushing the door to the apartment building open.

When he knocked on Ranboo’s door, he was half hoping that his friend wasn’t home. But he was mostly hoping that the supervillains down the street weren’t burning half the city to the ground at this point. Maybe he was thinking about this too casually. There are literal supervillains, committing literal crimes as they speak, and he is standing there doing nothing about it.

Despite Tommy’s best wishes, Ranboo opened the door. His eyes lit up when he saw the two Watson’s on the other side.

“Tommy! And. . .Wilbur Soot? Like, the musician?” Ranboo looked between the two. Oh god, Tommy did not have the time for this.

Wilbur laughed awkwardly, “Yea, that’s me. D’ya want a picture or something?”

“He does not.” Tommy butted in blatantly, “Ranboo, this is my brother. One of them,” he clarified.

Ranboo’s eyes widened even more, “You’re brother’s with Wilbur Soot?”

Tommy’s foot started tapping anxiously against the ground.

“ Yup . And-”

“I’ve heard so much about you,” Wilbur smiled. Okay, Tommy’s mentioned Ranboo maybe twice in the time that his brother’s have been home. The guy is exaggerating.

Ranboo laughed, equally as awkward, “I have. . .not. But it’s nice to meet you,” he held his hand out. And they shook hands .

Oh my god.

“This is fun. It really is. But I’m gonna go inside with Ranboo now,” He pushed past the two so he could go inside of the apartment, dragging Ranboo with him by the arm. The taller made a noise of surprise but otherwise allowed himself to be yanked around.

“Oh- Okay, I can-”

“Bye, Wil,” and with that, the door slammed shut in the face of his older brother.

He stood there in silence, waiting for the telltale sound of his brother walking away. It took a minute, and Tommy could have sworn he heard a sigh, but soon enough Wilbur left.

“ Wilbur Soot is your brother?! ” Ranboo gawked.

“Yea, yea. Big man Wilbur Watson is my brother. Ranboo, I have to go,” Tommy brushed off his friend’s surprise as he bolted towards the window he knew had a fire escape.

“What? You just got here,” Ranboo followed after him, confused.

“Yea well I kinda lied to him that I’m going here, but I have somewhere else I need to be. So we’ll have to hang out some other time, yea,” he responded distractedly as he opened up the window.

“I- okay- should I be worried?”

“Nope.”

“Okay- uh,” Tommy jumped out of the open window and onto the fire escape, barely listening to what his friend had to say, “Bye then.”

*****

By the time he made it to the abandoned building district, the entire place was up in flames. There were barely enough firefighters sent to battle them, and Tommy was almost worried that it would spread to the rest of the city at this point. Can his powers control water? He could always just dump river water everywhere, but he’s never really tried that before.

Unlike before, he couldn’t just run in willy nilly, that would only just get him burned. He had to find where the bad guy was and track him down while he was still in the area.

“Any clue as to where the Arsonist is?” he asked into the earpiece. 

“ Dotratia , where were you?! You just cut out and disappeared for like thirty minutes!” Tubbo yelled.

“Sorry, something came up. Uh- robbers and shit,” it wasn’t the best lie, but that was what he was going with.

“Dude. At least tell me next time. The fire is only burning more.”

“Speaking of which. Arsonist?”

There was a moment of silence that was filled with the clicking of a keyboard. It was a good sign that Tubbo was back to business. 

“They should still be in the main building. But the security camera across the street burned out a couple of seconds ago so you gotta get there fast,” Tubbo informed.

“Got it,” Tommy acknowledged as he dove off of the roof and onto the ground. The firefighters barely spared him a look as he slipped through one of the open doors and ran into the building. It was. . .definitely on fire. Though the room was big enough that it was safer in the middle, it didn’t stop his arms from burning. He really needed to stop with this whole fire business, it’s getting to be a little annoying.

Tommy couldn’t help but notice that this was the same warehouse that he discovered his powers in. Just over to the right was the same robot that he threw around, he couldn’t help but frown as the flames drew closer and closer to it.

“I remember that robot,” Tubbo commented through the ear piece, “His name was Nook, he was this little robot that played at kids birthday parties. My dad would take me to this place all the time.”

“Too bad it’s burning down.”

Tubbo clicked his teeth, “Y’know. That robot probably has some valuable parts in it. I could make some gadgets, or maybe even repair it.” he offered.

Tommy didn’t even think as he lifted the little robot up and hovered it over until it was out of the building, safe away from the fire. He would have to come back for his later and drop it off at Tubbo’s. With that out of the way, it was time to do what he came here for.

“Oi!” he shouted, "Come out here before I sweat through this suit!" 

He looked around the entire room, searching for any movement that wasn't the flames and burning debris. There was no sign of the man anywhere. Did he already leave?

"Oh Sapnap!" he hollered like he used to do when he was annoying his older brothers, "What? Are you afraid that you're gonna get beat up by a teenager?"

He prepared his voice to shout some more, but he was caught off guard as something from behind him struck his head. Tommy's entire body flew to the side as the fire raged on. When he looked up, the Arsonist wasn't standing in front of him, but another masked man. He was wearing clunky white goggles, but his expression underneath them was stoic and unimpressed. The man said nothing as he wound back his fist and prepared another attack.

"What is it with you guys and just beating me up? Do you not like, have a plan? Cause if so, then this is just bullying," he rambled as he rolled out of the way of the punch. The unnamed villain had no problem stumbling forward and gaining his bearings back. This man was too fast, at this point Tommy was fighting to just stand up.

It wasn't the most nonviolent attack he could think of, but he shot his hand out, searching for something to grab onto. When he got a hold of what he was looking for, he launched a flaming piece of debris at the villian, knocking him off of his feet. Unlike the Arsonist, this guy wasn't fireproof. While the man was distracted by patting the flame out of his clothes, Tommy jumped forward and tackled him to the ground.

The two rolled around until they were dangerously close to the ever growing flame, the villain had yet to say a word.

"So where's your friend, huh? Unless you were the one who set these buildings on fire," Tommy gnarled through his teeth, but the guy still didn't seem up for conversation.

"Dotratia," Tubbo piped up through the earpiece. Couldn't he see that Tommy was a little busy right now? The blonde opted to ignore him as he simultaneously held the villain down and searched around for another piece of debris in case he needed the ammo.

" Dotratia ," Tubbo repeated a little more urgently. Tommy huffed. The villain. . .wasn't fighting back? He was kinda just laying on the ground. If it wasn't for the costume and the fact that he was confronting him in a burning building, Tommy would have assumed that this guy was just a civilian.

With this moment of down time, he allowed his mind to wander.

So if his theory was correct, the super powers came from the potion or whatever that got into the air that day in the abandoned subway system. Which means that only four people have powers, him and Sapnap included. So the guy underneath him has to be either Dream or George. And considering they weren't saying a word, it was a little bit of a challenge to figure out which.

Come to think of it, he hasn't actually seen this guy use his powers yet.

"Dotratia!" Tubbo shouted through the earpiece, and at this point Tommy couldn't ignore him, "The Arsonist is getting away!"

At the very same time Tubbo said that, the villain underneath him snickered.

Oh. That certainly wasn't good.

With Tommy's guard down, the villain lifted his hand. And with a wave, water came crashing into the room, shattering all of the windows with it's pressure. The waterfalls shot every which way, almost immediately extinguishing the flames. In fact, the idea of the fire fighting something as powerful as what Tommy was looking at right now, was funny to even think about.

Speaking of which-

Oh shit.

And with that, Tommy's body was stolen away by the waves. Once underwater, it felt as if he was getting dragged every which was by hundreds of different currents, he just kept spinning around and around. It was disorienting, that and the fact that he was panicking and his air supply was limited. 

For a split second, his body shot up and he greedily sucked in all the air he could. He looked to the middle of the room to see that the villain was untouched by the monstrous body of waves. It was as if the room was filled with a gigantic raging whirlpool with the man safe in the middle.

Tommy tried to get his arms free, hold his breath, anything to get him out of the water, but it was as if he was trapped in quicksand. The villain spared him one disinterested glance before a stray piece of metal debris crashed directly into Tommy’s shoulder and he was sent back under. He couldn’t even shout out in pain as water surrounded him once again.

There was a sharp pain in his shoulder where the metal pierced him, but that thought was immediately pushed to the back of his mind as the waves hurled his body out of one of the near windows. With a gasp, he flew out of the window and skidded onto the ground.

This was the second time in a row he was defenestrated by one of these villains. This is just embarrassing. He looked around to the uncharacteristically quiet world around him. All of the fires were out thanks to the magic maniac that was probably fleeing from the warehouse by now. Even if the bad guy was still here, there was no way he was going to be able to fight him right now. Any of them. He needed experience, and practice, and more gear from Tubbo.

Tommy looked over to the Nook robot that was laying innocently on the ground next to him. It was a little burnt on the edges, but other than that it was fine. Tubbo could definitely use this thing for parts, but Tommy couldn’t help but admit that he would miss it’s cute face.

Speaking of Tubbo, the earpiece was gone. If it wasn’t washed away by the currents, then it would have gotten water damaged anyway. The sky was already dark and the city was already ready for bed. He would have to get the robot and earpiece to and from Tubbo tomorrow.

Where could he leave the robot until then?

. . .

With the little Nook robot in the nearest dumpster, he made his way back home and up the fire escape that led to his bedroom.

Carefully, he placed his fingertips on the cold glass of his window, and slided it open. Under his breath he thanked himself that he left the thing unlocked. Probably not the wisest thing to do when he lived in such a crime ridden city, but in this case, Tommy would call himself a genius.

Holding his breath, his body betrayed gravity, and he maneuvered himself so he was walking on the ceiling. He made sure to keep his footsteps quiet, his door was still open a considerable amount, he would have to get to that.

No one seemed to be on the other side. It was pretty late at night and there were no sounds of discussion from anywhere in the apartment. Unless his three family members were just sitting in silence. And considering their current relationship with each other, that was unlikely.

He placed his hand on the top of the door and closed it as quietly as humanly possible. The only sound that the door made was a click, and then he was out of the woods. If him holding his breath wasn't the sole reason he was staying on the ceiling right now, he would have let out a sigh of relief. All he had to do now was clean up his injuries and then go to bed.

And going to bed sure did sound appealing right now.

Tommy turned around to survey the rest of his room. He should have a small first aid kit somewhere. He looked back over to the bed and-

"Ah!" Tommy screamed as he startled and fell from the ceiling, collapsing into a heap on the floor. Because there, in front of him, was no one other than Technoblade. Just sitting on his bed and looking at him unimpressed, "What are you doing in my room?!" he yelled as loudly as he could without alerting anyone else in the apartment. 

His heart was beating out of his chest. He was still in his costume. Shit. He was still in his costume, and his brother was looking right at him. Maybe he could play this off?

What? And say that Dotratia was just breaking into some kids bedroom? Yea. Fat chance.

"What were you doing on the ceiling?" Techno shot straight back, arcing on eyebrow higher in question.

"I don't know what you're talking about," He bit, though it sounded physically painful to say it.

"You don't? So you weren't just walking on the ceiling, and you aren't currently wearing Dotratia's costume," Techno said plainly, he crossed one leg over the other.

"Um, I can explain?" He tried, lifting up his voice desperately. There had to be some loophole out of this. Halloween was a couple of days ago, maybe he was just going to a late party?

He could. . .probably gaslight Techno into thinking that he wasn't just defying gravity. 

Or, he could hit his brother really hard and pray that he gives the guy some type of amnesia. Or-

"Tommy. I knew."

. . .

"What?"

"Tommy, you're literally wearing my freshmen year art class project on your face," he pointed.

Oh. Oh my god.

Okay, push away denial. It's time to get desperate.

"Techno, you can't tell anybody. Please," he finally got up from where he was half laying half sitting on the floor.

"Oh I don't plan on it."

Tommy stopped once again. This guy was just bombarding him with surprises. He hated to admit it, but was Techno the opposite of Wilbur? Was he not worried enough?

"You. . .don't?"

"No. I'm pretty sure Wilbur would go into cardiac arrest if he found out about the shit you're pulling after school."

Tommy blinked, but no one could see it underneath the mask. With that sentiment, he took it off, revealing his bloody face, "You're not gonna stop me?"

"Are you kidding? No. Who else is gonna stop the literal fire maniac running around. The cops?" Techno crossed his arms as if Tommy was the one acting inappropriately in this situation, "I am concerned about how you just so happened to obtain telekinesis though. Last time I checked, you couldn't do that."

"It's a long story," Tommy sniffed, "So, what now? Are you just gonna pretend like this never happened?"

"Oh, no. Things are gonna be changing," Tommy frowned nervously, "First, you gotta come to me after every one of your little 'missions' so I can patch you up."

"I can do that myself," Tommy protested.

"I'm literally a doctor. It's my job to fix people."

"Since when were you a doctor?" Tommy asked with equal parts curiosity and annoyance. Jealousy that he didn't know something so important about his brother.

"For about as long as you've been a vegetarian."

"Fair."

“Second, you gotta tell me when you’re going out to do this type of stuff. So like, I don’t assume you’re dead. And at the very least I can make an alibi for you,” Techno looked Tommy up and down, “Because ‘I want to go to my friends’ is gonna get old fast.”

Tommy’s face turned a little red, “Fuck off,” he paused for a moment, “You’re being really calm and mature about this. When I found out, I cried. Like, a lot.”

“Well I’ve had a suspicion ever since you showed up on the news. I did all my freaking out on my living room couch back in California. As for being mature, one of us has to.”

Tommy sighed, “You’re. . .right. I can’t keep running up to these super villains blind.”

“Speaking of which, third rule. I’ve gotta teach you at least some shred of self defense. Because what I saw on the news the other day was just sad.”

“You know self defense?” Tommy piped up.

“Yup. I’ve been taking classes since middle school. I had to take that aggression out somewhere,” Techno quipped, but there was still buried bitterness there.

Tommy snickered, “Yea? Wilbur just took it out on Dad. Me too apparently,” he joked, but clearly Techno didn’t find it funny. In fact, the man in front of him kind of just frowned. Eager to pick the conversation back up to something more lively, he continued, “Anyway, self defense. You can teach me?”

“Oh, I’m definitely gonna teach you,” Techno stood up so he was right in front of Tommy, he placed a hand on his good shoulder, “But first, let’s take care of that shoulder.”

And, Tommy couldn’t help it. His heart warmed, a small smile crept up on his face, and some inkling in his mind urged that he was happy. Contented at the very least to be spending time with his brother. It was as if he was living his childhood dreams.

“Patch me up, big man.”

Chapter Text

For the first time that Tommy could remember, he woke up with a pep in his step. Metaphorically speaking, it felt as if there had been a weight lifted off of his shoulders. Literally, it was quite the opposite. His shoulder hurt something fierce despite the talented job his brother did patching up his wound. His arm was lacking in mobility, but it was nothing that would stop him from going to school.

Besides, it's not like he could keep up patrols with all of his tech broken anyways. The second he got the chance, he would stop by Tubbo's and talk logistics. He hated to admit it, but those subway bastards were somehow way stronger and more experienced than him. Sure, Techno was going to teach him how to fight, but if he was going to get anywhere, he needed gadgets. And he knew how creative his best friend could get with this type of stuff.

When he got dressed, he wore the biggest hoodie he had, just to make sure that the bandages and bruises from last night's scuffle were covered up. It was one of his father's old garments, a piece of merchandise from his old college. Phil had thrown it out last year when he claimed to be on a 'spring cleaning' trip, but Tommy had dug it up  and snuck it into his room. Phil had rolled his eyes when he saw him wearing it, but the fond smile on his face was enough for him to keep it.

When Tommy exited his room, the television was on and the twins were sitting together on the living room couch, Phil on one of the island stools. It was so casual yet so out of the norm at the same time. Every day for the past couple of years, he would come out into the kitchen to see his dad at the couch and two pieces of toast on the counter. The change was. . .different to say the least.

"Hey bud," Phil greeted, still looking down at his newspaper. Which was a bit contradictory considering that the news was playing right next to him, but Tommy wasn't one to judge. All he read was the funny papers.

The second that Phil acknowledged Tommy, both of the twin's heads piped up in his direction, Techno's gaze more analytical, Wilbur's more hopeful. That hope churned something bitter in Tommy's stomach, and thus he opted to ignore it by shoving a bit of toast into his mouth.

"How's your face doing?" His father asked, noticing how the kid had graduated from using bandages, now there was just an irritated looking scrape on his face. All things considered, he seemed to be healing a little bit faster than he did before. He would say that it was a side effect of gaining superpowers, but that would be kind of bogus, considering he still got very hurt all the time. If he was going to heal, then why couldn't he heal in a cool, fast way?

"Yea, how's your injury?" Techno turned around to inquire, but Tommy knew he was talking about more than just his face.

He thought for a moment about how he should phrase this so he could answer Techno's question without alerting the other's that he got hurt beyond the injury on his face, "It's really sore, but I'll survive."

"Do you want me to check on it?" Techno arched an eyebrow in question.

"Not right now, I gotta get to school."

"I was thinking," Phil spoke again, looking at the three boys across the room, "That the four of us could head out for dinner tonight? I'm getting out of work early."

"Actually, Tommy and I were gonna hang out tonight," Techno denied Phil's offer, and Tommy couldn't help but feel relieved. The last thing he wanted to do today was sit through another awkward family dinner. Even if he was warming up to Technoblade, half of his family still hated each other and he was included in that cesspool.

"Tonight?" he piped up, he couldn't help the excitement that leaked from his voice.

"Yea. Unless you're busy tonight," the pink haired twin gave him a knowing look, the two of them communicating in an unspoken language.

"No, no I'm not actually. I just have play practice after school but after that we should be good," he sounded like an excited little kid. Okay, maybe he was. He was going to learn how to fight with his older brother!

Tommy couldn’t help but notice that his father was smiling at the sight of the two of them getting along, a subtle reminder that mundane interactions like this weren’t the norm. Wilbur on the other hand- who Tommy had almost forgotten was here - still looked as uncomfortable as ever. Though he did pipe up at the mention of theatre. Wilbur used to do theatre in high school if Tommy wasn’t mistaken. It was a couple extra hours that Tommy had spent alone, but it was worth it to see Wilbur so happy with his theatrics.

“You’re in theatre?” He asked hopefully.

“Yup. Shakespeare.”

Wilbur immediately deflated, “Ugh, I hate Shakespeare.”

“ I love Shakespeare,” Techno  spoke over the other.

Tommy smiled playfully. He smiled , “That’s good, because Dad doesn’t.”

“I don’t,” Phil relented, “But I do love seeing you dressed up as a little English boy.”

"Ugh," Tommy grumbled, embarrassed, "That's my least favorite part."

"Come on, you look like a little gentlemen!" Phil then turned to the twins, "He wont let me put the pictures up on the wall, but I still have them."

Neither of them played into his teasing despite them being so open to mingle with Tommy. Before the tension could increase any more, Tommy finished the last bite of his toast, "I would love to continue this conversation, but I have to get to school."

He walked over to the door and grabbed his backpack, making sure that the mask was safe at the very bottom, "And if you show them any of the pictures, I'll shank you!"

*****

"Tubbo, where are you even taking me?" Tommy asked his shorter friend as the two of them sped down one of the lesser used alleyways. He was half afraid that they would get mugged or attacked while Tommy was out of costume.

It was just after play practice, and Tommy was eager to get home so he could train with Techno, but Tubbo had grabbed his arm, telling him of this 'personal project' he needed help with, and the rest was history.

"Just a little farther," he urged, walking faster. When they finally made it to their destination, the two stood in front of an old dumpster at the edge of town.

Hold on.

This was the dumpster that he left that Nook robot in.

How- how did Tubbo know that the robot was here?

Tommy looked around the area for any security cameras that he might have missed. Anything that his man behind the camera could use to get an eye on the fight last night. Tubbo didn't implement a camera somewhere on his suit, right? He didn't want to risk his friend seeing him returning home. Though considering Tubbo wasn't angrily yelling at him right now, there were probably no cameras on his suit.

Tubbo took the edge of the dumpster lid and threw it upwards so the container was open.

"Give me a knee," Tubbo mumbled, and Tommy asked no questions as he got on the ground and cupped his hands so they acted as a stepping stool for his friend to hoist himself up and peek into the dumpster. Tubbo then shimmied so he was sitting on the edge of the dumpster and looked down at what was inside.

While Tubbo wasn't looking, Tommy subtly held his breath and floated up until he was sitting on the edge as well, when Tubbo looked back at him, he blinked.

"How did you get up here?"

"Upper body strength," he replied simply.

"But that was a tall climb?"

"I don't know what to tell you Tubbo. I just have superior strength. Some say I'm the strongest man alive," he shrugged. Smiling as he played into his boisterous character. When he looked down into the dumpster, he wasn't surprised to find that the robot was still there, right where he left it. Well, right where Dotratia left it. Right now he was Tommy, and Tommy had no clue what this thing was.

"So you dragged me to go dumpster diving for. . .some robot?" he asked, patting himself on the back for his acting skills. If only his director could see him now.

" Yes . I wanna make it a cool robot," Tubbo exaggerated his point.  

"How did you even know that this was here?" That was a genuine question.

"Right, so I was watching the news footage of the Dotratia fight last night, and I saw that he left this thing here. And now I want it," Tubbo replied smoothly. And though Tommy was proud of him for creating such a smooth lie to protect both of their reputations, his heart still hurt a little. Because that meant that Tubbo was lying to him. Though apparently they don't tell each other everything anymore, so Tubbo can lie all he wants.

Tubbo must have seen his expression start to bitter as he asked, "What? It doesn't look that destroyed. It's not half bad if I do say so myself."

"No, no, the robot is fine. Just, how are we going to get this thing out of here?"

Tubbo looked at Tommy, and then down to the robot, and then back at Tommy, "Uh. I didn't think that far." 

See, if Tommy were Dotratia right now, he could have easily lifted the robot out of the dumpster and delivered it to Tubbo's room on a silver platter, but his friend wanted to do things the hard way and be impatient, so they'd have to rely on nothing but brute force.

One at a time, the two boys jumped down into the piles of trash, only slightly cringing as it dirtied their shoes. In that moment, Tommy took a good second to think about how he should be with his brother right now. Then he was reminded that he was this close into being roped into another family dinner, and he grabbed onto the robot.

It took longer than he would like to admit for the two of them to hoist the robot up and over to the other side, and it made a loud crashing noise when it hit the ground. For a good minute he was concerned that they broke something. But the excited look on Tubbo's face calmed those worries.

Despite his increasing qualms with his older friend, Tommy would do anything for Tubbo. Anything included dragging a burnt robot covered in trash across the New York city sidewalks, while also being covered in trash. . . And a little bit burnt, but Tubbo doesn't know about that.

"So," Tubbo started, his voice strained from trying to drag the heavy piece of machinery, "I don't actually know where I'm gonna keep this thing."

"You don't ?" Tommy complained, muscles hurting from all the manual labor he was doing. And that was saying something considering his line of work, "You can't just keep it in your room?"

"No. My dad said that I can't keep dumpster trash in there any more ever since the old microwave I brought back had a pregnant raccoon in it."

"So we just spent the last forty minutes dragging this thing out of the dumpster so you can leave it in another dumpster?"

"I'm not leaving it in another dumpster. I'm improvising," Tubbo stated pointedly, but Tommy was not buying his point one bit.

And then an idea struck his mind.

"I know where we can leave this. And I know a guy that would be more than willing to help you with repairing this thing."

"Really?" Tubbo asked, eyes lighting up, "Who?"

*****

"Tommy I know I said that you could visit any time, but why is there a pile of trash in my classroom?" Mr. Sam asked, hands on his hips like he was a disappointed mother. Tommy stood on the other side of the 'pile of trash', Tubbo next to him with an awkward smile on his face. All three of them were standing around the robot inspecting it with varying degrees of emotion.

"Alright so you remember that bouncey palace place that used to be open near the pier back in like two thousand ten?" he started off as if he was trying to convince his teacher into buying a product.

"Yea, the place that burned down and subsequently flooded last night," Mr. Sam raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

"Exactly. Well, we found this there. And my friend Tubbo here wants to replace it," he gestured to his friend who was standing to the left of him. Tubbo gave an awkward wave. It was an odd sight to see. Tommy had known his friend for so long that he forgot that Tubbo was all shy when you first met him.

"I see," Mr. Sam looked down at the robot once again, scanning over the bits and bobs that made up the thing.

"Do you think it's doable?" Tubbo asked, though Tommy knew that Tubbo was going to try and fix it no matter what Mr. Sam said.

Mr. Sam hummed, "Well we could certainly make something out of it. What are your plans?" he looked up to Tubbo.

"Everything," Tubbo replied.

"He wants to make a killer robot," Tommy butted in, only half joking.

Mr. Sam laughed at that, and Tommy could see Tubbo's face light up and his posture get a little more comfortable.

"Well, if you want, you can work on this guy in that back corner over there. I'll tape it off so my students don't touch it," he pointed with his thumbs to one of the more private working spaces.

Tubbo smiled, "That would be perfect. And I can come here after school? To work on it?"

"Of course. Any friend of Tommy's is a friend of mine," Mr. Sam smiled back, though Tommy had never seen a moment where Mr. Sam wasn't smiling. The man pushed up the sleeves of his hoodie and grabbed onto the arms of the robot. The two boys took the hint and grabbed the legs. Tubbo continued talking as the three of them carried the robot over to one of the working tables.

"Tommy I can't believe you're all buddy buddy with the shop teacher," the boy commented.

"Yea, he was virtually my dad back in second grade."

The smile on Mr. Sam's face shone like a spotlight, and there was a certain look in his eyes that Tommy couldn't place.

"Well, thank you Mr. Sam. I am definitely going to use and abuse this work space," Tubbo thanked as he surveyed the place, "Did you wanna help me tear this thing apart?" he then asked Tommy.

"Actually, I'm supposed to be elsewhere right now," Tommy scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

"What? But you didn't seem busy when you helped me drag this thing here," Tubbo frowned.  

"Yea, and in doing that I was actively standing up the person I was supposed to be meeting after school."

"Who?"

". . .family."

"Oh my god. Of course,” Tubbo glared at him and then turned back to the work station.

"What does that mean? I actually have to meet up with family tonight," Tommy followed after his friend. Mr. Sam hadn't butt into the semi argument they were having, but he sure did look uncomfortable.

"Yea, like you do every other night you have to spend with us," Tubbo murmured underneath his breath, but Tommy sure did hear it.

"Fuck off man, it's not like that. Things are just weird right now."

"Just go Tommy. Go hang out with your family. I'm gonna hang out with Mr. Sam and dismantle this robot," Tubbo still refused to look at him.

Tommy sighed, "I'll see you and Ran tomorrow. You can tell me about it then."

Tubbo didn't respond, so Tommy nodded his departure to the teacher in the room and left to return back to his home.

*****

"Alright so basically, when I hit this way, you gotta block with the back of your arm. The main goal is protecting your face," Techno instructed, his entire body settled in a fighting stance. His knees bent, arms up, and feet shoulder width apart. Tommy tried his best to replicate the stance, but it was ten times shakier.

Without warning, the pink haired man threw a light punch to Tommy's right. He barely had enough time to block it, and when he did, the man still landed a painful hit on his arm.

"Ow! That hurt!" he exclaimed, still holding his arms up to his face.

"That was nothing," Techno replied simply, "Do you think those supervillains are gonna hold back when they attack you?"

No. He knows first hand that they won't.

With Tommy's lack of response, Techno took that as an opportunity to talk more, "Is super strength on the list of your super magic powers?"

"No? I don't think so," Techno hit again from the left. Tommy blocked it with equal amounts of damage to his arms. Though Tommy did notice that the older was going a little bit lighter on that side. He could only assume that it was because of his injury.

"Heightened healing?"

Another hit.

"A little bit faster, but nothing to tell home about."

"So what can you do exactly?"

"Uh, I can move things with my mind," another hit, this time he ducked down to dodge it, "And if I hold my breath, my body goes all anti gravity and shit."

"Okay," Techno urged him to talk more.

"That's really all I think. Though if I use my powers too much, my nose starts to bleed and my head hurts something fierce."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb as the doctor here and say that it's because the human body is not meant to go through stress like that," This time, Tommy dared to throw a punch. But Techno dodged it without even thinking.

"I'm not gonna like, have an aneurysm. Am I?"

". . ."

Tommy stood up straight, ". . .Am I?"

"I'll keep an eye out for the symptoms," Techno replied, and Tommy really hoped that he was joking.

. . .He was probably joking.

"Why'd you even become a doctor anyway? I thought you were like an English lit prodigy?" The two of them continued to throw trained punches at each other as the conversation unfolded.

"Yea. I went to college for a while and it just wasn't my thing."

"Well I can see that. But why medical school?"

"Well first, I was not happy with writing all day," a punch, and another dodge, "And for a while there I was in the hospital, and all the lingo was interesting to me I guess."

"Why were you in the hospital?"

"None of your business."

"Did you get hit by a car?"

“No.”

“Did you get like, really drunk and beat up at a frat party?”

“Also no.”

“Did you-”

And with one foul kick, Techno sweeped Tommy’s legs from underneath him. He didn’t even realise what was happening until he fell on his ass with an ‘oof’ and looked up at his brother dumbfounded.

“Oi! You can’t start kicking! That’s not fair!”

“Are your enemies-”

“Gonna warn me when they kick? No. But we’re literally in training. I call cheats,” he complained from where he lay on the ground. Instead of replying, Techno looked out of the window to see that it was already dark outside.

“Do you wanna call it a day? I vote we get dinner out so we don’t have to deal with all of. . .that,” Techno squinted his eyes as he reminisced on their last family dinner.

“You read my mind. Where could we go?” Techno extended his hand to help his little brother up, Tommy gladly took it and hoisted himself up.

“There’s a McDonald’s nearby. We could get-” Techno looked at him comically, “Fries.”

“I’m not even sure they serve real meat anyway,” Tommy snarked, “But yea. Fries sounds good.”

The air was a biting cold when the two of them made it outside. There were even a couple flutters of snow that danced from the pitch black sky down to the sidewalk. Some of the flakes nestled himself in Tommy’s golden locks and eyelashes, and for a second he felt like a kid again. He looked at himself in the reflection of one of the storefront windows and realised that he still is a kid.

“How do you think Phil and Wilbur are doing on their own?” Techno dared to ask. And even though they had a good flow when they were sparring, now that they were on their own a sense of discomfort grumbled back into Tommy’s gut, as if he was talking to a stranger.

“Well if they haven’t retreated to their rooms already, then they’re probably dead silent. Considering Wilbur hates Dad with a burning passion, and Dad has zero emotional intelligence,” Tommy replied lightheartedly, but Techno still frowned at the implications of that.

Tommy instead chose to sniff his nose and ask a more serious question, “Why don’t you guys call him Dad anymore?”

“Because he’s never been a father to us,” Techno said a little too quickly, “Sure, he provided us with money. But he was never there physically- emotionally. He wasn’t a dad, he was just some sperm donor that gave us money. Now Mom. She was a mother.”

In that moment, Tommy knew the difference between him and his brothers. They had a mother, but no father. And he only ever had his father, Tommy never had a mother. 

Tommy chose to ignore what Techno said about his father and instead asked a simple question.

“What was she like?”

Techno paused and looked at Tommy for a while, and when he looked forward again, he told his tale of the mother Tommy never had.

“You have her smile. You always have. She was always so happy no matter what happened, and that happiness spread to others so easily.”

The snow started to fall heavier as the older continued to talk. It was just the two of them alone on the sidewalk.

“She was smart, like really smart. She was a scientist at this crazy lab that experimented on human evolution.”

“Really?”

“Yea. She’d work there all the time. It was dangerous work, but she was always so eager to do it,” Techno stopped for a while, thinking about what he was going to say next, “They say that the chemicals she inhaled affected her body. And after that she just couldn’t handle childbirth.”

. . .

“So like, it wasn’t your fault. It was all the chemicals she inhaled.”

“Who ever said it was my fault?” Tommy asked quietly, his head remained dead forward.

“I thought it, when I was little,” Techno admitted, speaking quieter than Tommy did. His words were barely a whisper, yet they reverberated out to the world like they were a bottled up alarm.

“Oh,” he breathed. The temperature was only getting colder and colder.

“If Phil- if anyone ever hurts you, or- or says that, you can come to me. Alright?”

“Why did you agree to train me?”

. . .

“Dad would never hurt me. You know that right?”

. . .

Tommy sighed.

“I think we’ve all changed, the four of us. And- and when we’re together, we’re just the same again,” he looked at his brother, “Techno, I’m never gonna be ten again.”

Techno clenched his burnt fists, “I know,” he looked up to the building in front of them, “We’re here.”

Tommy looked at the fast food chain waiting before them. The inside looked disheveled and messed up, chairs were thrown everywhere and there was seemingly no one in the room. No one that they could see. There was something. . .off putting about it.

It was only when Techno stood next to him that Tommy saw it. The cashier stood behind the counter, tears streaming down his face and his hands up in surrender. On the other side of the counter was no one other than George, or whatever his alter ego’s name was. He stood there with his signature bored look, a gun leveled at the person’s chest 

They were seriously robbing fast food chains now? What was their plan here?

“Do you have your mask on you?” Techno asked, not taking his eyes off of the scene.

“Yea, it’s in my bag.”

Techno then looked at him, something new and determined in his eyes.

Certainly not. This was their first day of training.

“Are you ready to put your training to the test?”

Chapter Text

If Tommy were to make a tally of how many times he's won against the Arsonist and his little partner, it would be a good one to two. Which is still losing on his side, but it's better than nothing. 

The news never gave George's alter ego a name, so Tommy started addressing him by 'Not Found'. Under the basis that his name was nowhere to be found. It wasn't the most brilliant, but it was more thought out than Dotratia.

 In all honesty, the fight with Not Found in the McDonald's was the easiest battle he's had yet. Clearly whatever Techno was teaching him was working. Either that or George did not expect Tommy to have any type of confidence on the battlefield.

 'If you can't beat them, then surprise them', Techno had told him before he ran into the store. And surprise them he did. He surprised himself. It was pretty late out by the time he settled the robbery. Snow was falling heavily from the sky at this point, enough where it wouldn't melt away the day after.

Techno was tired from the long day of training that they had, but Tommy was eager to patrol more, so the two of them agreed to part ways until the younger got home.

Truth be told, Tommy was eager to get to Tubbo's apartment. First and foremost, he needed a new earpiece, second, he was curious about the state of the Nook robot. Third-well- he kind of had to prove to Tubbo that he was, in fact, not dead after the events of the night before.

The one downside among many of Tubbo living on the first floor was that there were a lot of people out on the streets. A lot of people that could see Dotratia sneaking into someone's house. He tried his best to slip down the alleyway that led to Tubbo's bedroom window. Looking left and right before knocking on the glass and waiting for a response. He wasn't necessarily an impatient person, but it was really cold out and his suit was not equipped for this type of weather. He could feel his entire body shivering and his teeth clattering.

When the window finally slid open, a gust of warm air pushed against the front of him. Tubbo stood on the other side in his pajamas, he looked eager to let the other in.

"Dude, you're shivering," he commented blatantly.

"It's literally snowing and I'm wearing a hoodie," Tommy replied miserably.

"Right. Come in, come in," Tubbo ushered the superhero inside, to which Tommy happily obliged. He crawled through the window and settled on Tubbo's bed, only to immediately get yelled at.

"You're gonna get melted snow all over my bed!" he lightly whacked him across the head. It felt so similar to their normal life dynamic- just joking around- that it reminded him of how strained the two of them were becoming. He knows that he is a little busy right now, but Tubbo is acting perfectly fine around Dotratia. Which means that it's something about Tommy that's making him so angry. Looking at the way Tubbo looked at Dotratia so fondly, he was almost-

-No. He's not jealous of himself. That's stupid. He should be happy that Tubbo's happy. He should be happy that he is the one to make Tubbo happy, even if he doesn't know that.

Tommy shoved down his conflicting thoughts and moved over to the misplaced bean bag chair that was in the corner. There was a tear in the side that allowed a bunch of beads to flood out, but neither of them seemed too concerned about that.

"I have so many questions," Tubbo started out, beginning to pace around as Tommy's head followed his moving, "First of all, what the fuck was that?!"

Tommy bit the inside of his cheek and looked to the side, thinking, "Bad guy with water powers."

"I know that . But where did he come from? I thought we were just messing with- hold on. Second question, who's 'Sapnap'?"

Tommy perked up, "What? Where did you hear that name?"

"You said it, when you were in the building. Right- like right before the water guy came."

Shit. He did say his name, didn't he. And of course Tubbo heard him.

Well, there's no hiding it now, he guesses.

"It's the name of the Arsonist. We may or may not have met," he revealed. Tubbo paused and looked at him bugeyed.

"What?! And you never told me?"

" No, I wanted to keep you as safe as possible. Of course I'm not gonna tell you their secret identities," he stood up from where he was sitting on the bean bag. It was kind of awkward to have this conversation from where he was sitting so low down on the ground.

"So there's more of them?"

"Yea, there's Sapnap, and Dream. But I haven't seen him yet so we should probably worry about that-"

"Alright, alright. This is- this is a game changer," Tubbo played with his hair and walked over to his computer setup. His eyes hyper focused as he started clicking through numbers and tabs that Tommy could not even begin to understand. He kind of just stood there dumbly behind his friend as he did his thing.

"Okay," Tubbo mumbled, "Okay. Well first, I got you a new earpiece. Waterproof this time."

He tossed Tommy an earpiece that looked similar to the first one he had, if not a little more put together.

"How much do you know about them?"

"Not much, I only really know their names."

“Okay. That’s okay. We can work with that,” Tubbo turned to his computer again and a series of clicking noises filled the room as he worked away at his keyboard, “I’m working on something big,” he said in almost a passing phrase. As if his voice was the only thing paying attention to the conversation. His eyes, hands, and mind were all concentrated on the computer in front of him, “I’m gonna keep it as a surprise for now. But it’s gonna be big.”

Tommy almost wondered if he was talking about the robot that was resting in Mr. Sam’s shop class right now. Tommy was about to ask about it when Tubbo turned around abruptly and looked him in the eyes. Or at least, the eyes of the mask.

“Can I have your mask?” he asked, something eager in his voice.

“What?” he brought a hand up to feel his mask. Did Tubbo not know what a secret identity was?

“I want to modify it. So you can have visuals of the city in your peripheral.”

That, was actually a good idea. And really impressive if Tubbo could pull it off. 

Who is Tommy kidding, Tubbo could pull it off without even batting an eye.

“Alright, do you have anything I can cover my face with?” he looked around the room, acting as if he hadn't been in there more times than he could count.

“I have. . .a pillowcase?” Tubbo offered, looking over to his bed.

“You’re gonna make me wear a pillowcase on my head?” he asked incredulously.

“It’s thin enough to see through I think. If not we can cut eye holes out of it,” his friend walked over to one of his pillows and grabbed the edge of it. He jiggled the thing until the pillow fell out onto the bed, and he was left holding his green, plaid pillowcase. Then he looked at Tommy with an innocent smile painted on his face.

“Oh my god,” Tommy sighed, “Alright, just- turn around and I’ll change into the fuckin’ pillow case.”

Tubbo tossed the pillowcase over to the other and then swiftly turned around, covering his eyes for good measure. When Tommy felt safe enough, he turned around as well and took the mask off. He relished in the cold feeling against his face before covering it with fabric yet again. It was almost suffocating to have his head inside of a pillowcase, and his entire vision was now hazey and tinted with green, but it was better than nothing.

Tubbo smiled as he was handed the mask, hefting it up and down for a second, testing its weight, “It’s porcelain?”

“Yup. And it’s only broken once,” he said pointedly.

“Well, that’s certainly gonna be harder to work with, but I can make it work.”

“You can make me all cool and techy,” he smiled.

“Oh you know it. But I’m gonna need a couple of days.”

“I can wait a couple of days,” he turned his head back towards Tubbo’s window. He couldn’t really see the snow from where the pillowcase was obscuring his vision, but he could feel the cold radiating off of it.

It was gonna be a bitch to get home.

*****

Tommy tried his hardest to stay near his father as the crowds of people only grew larger and larger. There was a large student population in his high school, but you wouldn't realize until you saw them all in one compact space.

Tommy would argue that the gym was not a large enough room to hold all of these people, let alone the tables surrounding the edges that were desperately trying to advertise sports teams. 

Technically, it was an open house for upcoming freshmen that were looking to take up an education here, but a good handful of seniors were called to overlook the whole thing and give speeches. And Mr. 'I do Shakespeare' Tommy just so happened to be dragged here instead of going home and doing literally anything else. He sighed, the streets would just have to go superhero-less for tonight.

Now, Tommy barely needed to be here. Which puts an emphasis on the fact that his entire family doesn't need to be here, but here they are, looking as lost as he is. He was standing in a corner with Techno and his father, somewhere near the bathrooms where they could overlook the crowd for any familiar faces. Wilbur was in the crowd somewhere, but the second they heard someone go, "Are you Wilbur Soot?" The rest was history.

"Is the wrestling team still up?" Techno asked through the bustling noise of the crowd.

"I am not joining the wrestling team," Tommy replied blatantly, plain and simple.

"Why?"

"Because I'm not going to put on spandex and push around sweaty teenage boys."

Techno gave him 'the look' and Tommy replied with the biggest scowl he could muster.

First of all, Dotratia did not wear spandex. Second of all, he was not sweaty. And third of all, he was not fighting teenagers. He was fighting grown men.

"Tommy! There you are," Tommy looked to the left to see Tubbo and his father squeezing through the crowd, stopping when they made it to the clearing where the Watson's had taken up refuge.

"Tubbo, Schlatt," he greeted warmly, walking up so he was standing next to his friend.

"Hey kid," Schlatt greeted, out of breath from trying to maneuver through that crowd, "Hey Phil," finally, he looked to Tommy's brother, "Technoblade. I thought we had a restraining order on you."

"Hello mister Schlatt," Techno said uncomfortably, "I'm an adult now, I swear."

"You blew up my son."

"I blew up too. It's not like I was trying to fuck up that firework."

"Alright, alright. Let's not fight in public," Phil stepped in, putting his hands up placatingly.

Techno glared at him, as if he heard the statement in an ulterior way, but he did step back and hold his tongue. Schlatt stepped away as well, crossing his arms.

"So," Tommy started speaking to Tubbo, "Is Ranboo coming?"

"Nah, he couldn't make it. Are you still doing that speech thing?"

"Unfortunately."  

"I'm so gonna film it," Tubbo smiled. Then, his eyes lit up as he looked at something behind Tommy, "Oh! Mr. Sam is here!" he waved the teacher over. When Tommy looked behind him, he saw that his friend caught Mr. Sam's attention, and the man was walking over to meet the group.

"Hey kids," he smiled.

"Hey Mr. Sam. What are you doing here?" Tommy inquired, looking between the man and his father. The two of them had never met before, and considering that Mr. Sam had been a prominent figure in his life during the neglect period, that probably wasn't the most pretty thing to happen right now.

"I'm over there trying to get kids to join the robotics club," he looked over to Tubbo, as if that single look was trying to convince the kid to join.

"Dude, we're already building a robot in your shop. Isn't that robotics enough?"

"Wait? You two are working on it together?" Tommy looked between the two.

"Yea, Mr. Sam is helping me with some of the harder stuff. He's really good at it."

"Don't give me too much credit, Tubbo. You're really intelligent yourself," Mr. Sam scratched the back of his neck earnestly. Tommy continued to look between the two. When did they become so close? It had only been a couple of days when he first introduced the two and suddenly they were working on this big project together?

When Tommy tuned back into the conversation, Mr. Sam and Tubbo were already far into a conversation of their own. Phil and Schlatt were in their own world as well. That left him and Techno to either sit there awkwardly, or sneak off and find something that wasn't mind numbingly boring. 

They looked each other in the eyes, wordlessly planning their escape when there was a loud noise that worked its way through silencing the roaring crowd. When Tommy looked over to where everyone's attention was drawn, he saw a man who was standing at the top of the bleachers. He had a nice suit on, which was a nice fancy contrast to the beanie he was wearing on his head, keeping his black hair controlled. That was when something sparked in Tommy’s head.

“Yo, isn’t that your step father?” He whispered to Tubbo, who looked over to the man in surprise.

“ No . Quackity is not my step father. It’s like an on again off again thing,” he crossed his arms.

“ Oh my god ,” They heard Schlatt react with exasperation.

“It’s off again right now.”

“Well, why is he here?”

Tubbo went to answer that question, but was quickly interrupted by Quackity talking again over the speakers. That was when he noticed that the man was holding a microphone up to his face.

“Hello Meerkats!” he greeted, and Tommy cringed at the mascot name, “And future Meerkats. I’m sure you’re all excited for the upcoming school year. I would like to introduce myself. I am  your new principal, Quackity.”

There was a surge of murmurings across the audience.

“The principal ?” Tubbo hissed.

“The fuck is he thinking?” Schlatt tacked on.

"There's a lot I would like to tackle in this upcoming school year, so if you all could meet me in the auditorium, there's speeches to be had!" He waved his arms around as if he was announcing circus. Though the crowd still followed his lead and filtered into the auditorium next door.

"I can't believe him," Schlatt scowled.

"Is he even fit to be a principal? Don't you need like training for that?" Phil queried.

"Literally where did Wilbur go?" Techno butted in, looking around left and right in search of his brown haired twin.

"We can find him in the auditorium, it's chaos in here," Phil offered. Techno didn't seem happy about that.

Tommy could sense familiar bickering coming, but something way more concerning took over his attention. Waves of screams and gasps rippled through the crowd from somewhere across the room.

The small group they had assembled looked around at each other nervously. Techno's face hardened, eyebrows furrowing. Suddenly, Tubbo was huddled up close to his father, and Phil and Mr. Sam were at Tommy's own side.

"What's happening?" Tommy asked. And that was when it happened.

With a flicker, and a pop, all of the lights went out. 

There was silence for only a moment, and then absolute chaos.

Tommy couldn't see, he couldn't see. He couldn't hear over the screaming. He fumbled around, trying to find where his group was, but he kept getting pushed and jerked further and further away. He felt like a pinball, shooting around every which way. At some point, someone elbowed his nose, jerking his head back with a grunt. 

"Dad?!" he shouted through the crowd, "Techno?!" his heavy breathing was trying it's hardest to fight through the crowd that was crushing him, "Wilbur?" he yelled more quiet than the others.

Another nudge and he was thrown into a set of arms, they held onto him as to keep him steady, "Tommy?"

"Techno?" he directed his attention onto the man in front of him.

"Don't let go Tommy," Techno instructed, holding onto his shoulders with a bruising grip. But Tommy didn't mind. He was half afraid that the crowd would sweep him away if Techno even thought about letting go, "What's going on? Is it a-"

"I don't know! None of them have powers like this. Unless they got to the generator."

Techno brought him close, Tommy could feel his breathing on his face, "Do you have your mask?"

"N-no, no I don't," he shuddered.

"Shit," Techno hissed, "You're fighting in the dark already. There's- the basketball team was giving out free bags."

Something was handed to him, the texture was rough and cheap, "You want me to wear a bag on my face?"

"Yes. And take your hoodie off, you don't want to be recognizable if the lights turn on." 

"Techno, I- I can't do this," his voice was wavering, his heart feeling the same type of panic that he did back in his spanish classroom.

"You can, Tommy. You can."

Even through the dark, he could feel Techno's eyes staring straight into him.

"I-"

Light filled the room for only a moment, in a flash of reds and oranges he could see his brother's face. The world around them was shaking with a raucous boom. And then it was dark again.

That was an explosion. There were bombs in the building.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit. Fuck.

He heard Techno take a sharp inhale. Was he afraid? Tommy felt Techno's scarred hand grip onto his arm. 

-Oh.

Techno was afraid of the explosions.

"Stay safe," Tommy whispered as he put the bag on his head. Scraping at the cheap fabric until he tore two eye holes into the bag.  

And then he was off.

When the room lit up with another explosion, he immediately ran towards it, pushing past people. In the heat of the light, he saw a singular figure standing behind the bomb. 

A singular smiley face.

His hand shot up, looking to grab at the supervillain and seize him before he could do any more damage. But when the light went away, so did the man.

Was this Dream? It had to be Dream. If so, what was his power? Explosions? Something to do with electricity?

There was a laugh to his left, a series of  clicks, and then more light. Tommy's body was shot upward and to the right, he took that to his advantage and held his breath, maintaining his high ground. The room was halfway empty, but they needed to get out quicker, this was about to get dangerous.

When the next explosion sounded, he looked over to the burst of light and grabbed onto the center of it. Using his telekinetic grip as if it was a rope he yanked himself forward and flew towards the bomb. Half way through he lost control of his gravity and went flying right into the body of the villain- Dream. Dream who was a supervillain, and who was unleashing bombs, and who’s power he still had yet to find out.

His momentum caused them both to fall back, rolling across the ground. The man grunted underneath him, it didn’t quite sound like Dream, but he didn’t have time to think about that before the man started grabbing at him.

Right, just as Techno taught him. He kept his thumb on the outside of his fist and punched Dream straight in the face.

He did it! He punched him! That was surprisingly easy. Come to think of it, why wasn’t Dream fighting back?

That was when the lights fluttered back on, fluorescent and bright, they hurt his eyes even through the bag. When he looked down at his adversary, his heart stopped.

That was not Dream.

Underneath him, clutching his face, was Wilbur .

“ What the fuck?! ” the brown haired man gasped up at him. And- yea, Tommy had about the same reaction. He just punched his brother. In the face.

. . .

Okay maybe that was a little satisfying. 

But with Wilbur being the one he was attacking, that means that Dream was still in here somewhere-

“Oh Dotratia ,” Tommy jumped up and turned around to look at the villain in all of his glory. He stood tall in similar attire to him, a forest green hoodie hiding his entire body, and a haunting mask with a smiley face etched on it, “Leave the tormenting the citizens to the bad guys.”

“You’re just blatantly admitting to being a bad guy? How self righteous is that?” he growled, clenching his fists and leaning forward. He could hear Wilbur quietly shuffling back away from the scene, the room was virtually empty now.

“I did just bomb a school. I’m not dumb.”

“Yea, why did you do that exactly?” He stepped closer and closer, looking around for things he could grab on to and throw. So far the tables were looking like the best option.

“To get your attention of course. A chess game isn’t any fun without an opponent,” Dream lifted both of his hands up, Tommy braced himself.

“So you’re just here for a senseless brawl?” Tommy fascened the bag on top of his head and readied his hands as well.

“You could say that,” Dream chuckled. There was a snap, a gasp, and a rumble.

And they both jumped forward.

Chapter Text

Dream got the first hit in. A punch right across Tommy’s face. Without his usual porcelain mask to protect him from the blows, pain bloomed along his cheek. That was definitely going to bruise. The attack was surprisingly human considering they both had magic powers. Powers of which he still had yet to see Dream reveal.

With the momentum on his side lost, he swerved his entire body, tethering as his balance tried to regain itself. At the peak of his imbalance, he shot his hand out and grabbed onto one of the far away tables. A faint glimpse told him that it was a stand trying to get kids to join the track team. Fuck the track team anyway. He’s terrible at running.

The table was launched forward, crashing into his adversary. Dream went tumbling to the ground, holding his face in his hands. But before Tommy could see too much of his victory, the lights started to flicker again.

Every time the lights shut on and off, Dream was in a different position, gaining his bearings and standing up again.

“What? You gonna shut the lights off again?” he taunted, to which he was granted a silent response. Dream quirked his head to the side, and then lifted up his hand. And, if Tommy knew anything about that motion, it didn’t mean anything good.

Tommy prepared himself for the worst. For the lights to shut off, or explode, or for the man across from him to shoot bolts of electricity through his hands or something crazy like that.

(Tommy really didn’t feel like getting electrocuted today) 

But instead of anything of that matter, when Dream raised his hands, everything around them started to rumble. It only took a moment before grand levels of the floor were shooting up from underneath them. Chunks of floor, rock, and dirt flying everywhere, barreling like large, untameable monsters.

Right, okay, so he can control the earth. Good to know.

Luckily, it seemed that it took a long time for the man to actually get his powers to work, time that he could not afford to spare. Tommy took this time to run forward, dodging the earth and rock that came flying at him. Any stride he attempted to get closer to the man only ended with the ground underneath him shifting and stealing him upwards. Tommy tried his best to jump off before the platforms could get too high, but he had to admit that his ankles were starting to hurt.

Finally, he made it within a couple of feet of Dream. With one last burst of desperation, he jumped forward, extending his hand towards the man.

And that;s when time itself stopped, with Tommy still hovering in the air.

He couldn’t move. He couldn’t move . It was as if the world was a movie and that movie was just paused.

The raging terrain around them, the flickering lights, the flying tables, everything stopped right where it was.

All except for Dream.

Dream stood there, looking around. Marveling at the scene in front of him.

Tommy was dumbfounded, and yet he couldn’t move expression to make it fit his emotions,

What was happening?! Wasn’t this guy just flaunting around the fact that he could move the very earth underneath his hands? How is he stopping time?

“Amazing, isn’t it?” Dream marveled. Then he bent down and looked Tommy straight in the eyes, “I bet this caught your attention. Hasn’t it. We’re not people you want to fight, Tommy.”

Tommy couldn’t reply, trapped in Dream’s own will of time. But that didn’t stop his mind from going a million miles per hour.

And then, the world started moving again,

But Tommy still had no control. His body was yanked back in an almost controlled motion. He was weaving up and down, swinging pieces of terrain coming to meet his feet until he was moved back up again.

He was moving backwards. They were going back in time.

He watched, faster and faster, as the scene around him rewinded back to before it even happened. The ground slotted and fitted back into place, the table scurried back to its original place, the crowd of people returned to filling the entire room. The lights shut off, and then on again. Tommy watched as his body moved against his will, shimmying his sweatshirt back onto his torso. Until finally, he was back standing with his group, and everything returned back to normal.

As if nothing ever happened in the first place.

“ I blew up too, ” Techno carried on saying; a conversation that Tommy already heard unfold half an hour ago. At that moment, he finally let out a gasp of air that he was holding in, and then he greedily gulped up as much oxygen as he could.

Everyone else seemed to be fine, they were acting as if nothing had happened. They were acting as if the powers isn’t about to go off at any minute and the school is about to get bombed.

“What the fuck!” he gasped, bracing himself on the nearby water fountain. The action made his hands damp, but he was so disoriented that he was unsure he could stand on his own.

That- that really happened right? He wasn’t just imagining things? 

No. No, he could still feel the bruise forming on his face from where Dream got a punch in. That was- what was that?

Not only did Dream mess with the lights, but he also manipulated the earth, and turned back time. What kind of macho power mutation did he get? And why would he attack the school just to turn it back, Was he going to attack it again?

Again and again until Tommy lost?

“Tom, you alright?” Phil asked. That was when he noticed that the entire group stopped what they were doing to look at him. Which was . . .fair. He was kind of freaking out in the middle of this school assembly.

“Techno,” he shuddered, looking his older brother directly in the eyes. Techno caught on immediately to what was happening.

“Tommy and I are gonna take a walk outside for a minute,” he informed the rest of the group. They all gave their own unique expressions of reaction. Some worry, some confusion, but none of them said anything in objection. Taking that as acceptance , Techno grabbed onto Tommy’s wrist and started dragging him through the crowd of people. Every time he bumped into someone, he was immediately thrust back to before. His breath hitched every time he blinked, afraid that the lights would turn off again.

He only realised that they were out of the building when a burst of cold air hit his face. He tried to blink the feeling away, but it remained. And that’s when he saw the inches upon inches of snow that coated the ground. Sure, it was snowing, but this wasn’t like this before. This looks like it would have taken hours to fall, not the fourty or so minutes that he supposedly spent in that gymnasium. 

Did the snow remain when time was reversed? Or is Tommy just digging for some sort of proof that any of the prior events actually happened?

His breathing came in quick and short, leaving puffs of steam every time. Techno looked at him expectantly.He didn’t vocally ask him anything, but he did raise his eyebrow. Kind of like a parent trying to get you to admit something you’ve already done.

“There-s- there was this, this guy . Another supervillain! He- he like bombed the gym!” he stuttered through the words. Half because of the shock, half because of the cold.

“What? When?”

“Just- just now! Do you not remember?”

“Tommy. I have no clue what you’re talking about. We were just inside at that assembly thing. The worst thing that happened there was trying to interact with Schlatt.”

“He- he had like time travel powers or something. I swear. It all happened and then he like, undid it,” he stated pacing around in a small circle, waving his hands around as if that would sell his point more. 

“He had time travel powers?” Techno said incredulously.

“ Yes! ”

“Alright. Considering everything I’ve seen you do in the last week. Some guy having time travel powers isn’t the most unbelievable thing.”

“But- I don’t think that was his power. I think he like- fuckin’- I don’t know,” every time he stomped againt the ground, splashes of slushy snow came flying back up at him. It was surely ruining his shoes, “He had like, multiple. I’ve never seen that before.”

Techno thought on that, trying to rationalize what his little brother was telling him.

“Alright, let’s backtrack. How did you guys get these powers?”

“From an abandoned lab down in the subway stations. Like, inhaled chemicals or some shit.”

“Okay. And if inhaling those chemicals gives you singular powers, maybe he went down there and inhaled more?”

“That’s just so dumb it might just be right,” -- lit up, immdedialty stopping his pacing.

“You’re calling me dumb?” Techno crossed his arms.

“Shut up. I’ve got a subway to go to,” he looked down the street. It was dark, and relatively abandoned, no one would notice if he slipped down there alone, “Can you cover for me?”

Techno nodded, “I’ll say that you got sick and went home. Threw up on the side of the road or something.”

“Gross.”

A curt nod in response.

“I’ll see you back home.”

*****

It turns out that it doesn’t take a long time to get through the abandoned subway system when you’re alone and when you’re running. Sure, he was out of breath by the time he made it to his destination, and his lungs hurt so bad that they felt as if they were cramping in on each other- god, he needs to exercise more- but the point is that he made it there in record time.

He was using his phone as a flashlight, and only a couple of times he managed to catch a glimpse at a text from a friend or family member, but he opted to ignore them. He could always just play under the guise that he was sick and fell asleep the second that he hit the bed.

The entrance of the lab thing was still left wide open, dust danced around the air in little particles. It made the atmosphere thick and anxiety inducing, but there was something else. Something more. 

Something curled in his gut and shook with fear, uncertainty. He let out a breath and watched as dust blew away with the action. And then, he entered the room.

And there was nothing.

“What the fuck?” 

Every vial, every paper, every piece of proof of anything that happened in this room was gone. There were still circles of dust from where they used to sit.

The place had been robbed, every last bit of it,

His eyes darted around the place as he took a couple of steps in. Everything was gone . The only thing left was the shattered remains of the glass that George dropped.

Shit. they must have stolen everything.

Who knows what was down here that they now have their hands on. Was that a gadget that Dream used to turn time back? If that’s the case then Tommy is fucked. Plain and simple.

His three most powerful enemies have their hands on weapons that shouldn’t even exist outside of movies. No training with Technoblade could help him fight those things.

A smell made its way to his nose. It was pungent, and metallic, and wrong . It wasn't the potion or whatever, no, that had been scentless.

He craned his head to the side, and there, on the far wall, splashed across as if it was paint-

-was dripping layers of blood.

*****

Tommy played around with his napkin as he waited for something to happen. He twisted it taut, ripped the edges into stips, and then crumpled those strips into little snowballs. Once he had collected a wide enough arsenal, he placed one on the end of his plastic straw, aimed it, and shot it straight at Tubbo’s face.

“Oi! Cut that out!” Tubbo swatted at him.

The two of them were currently bored out of their minds in one of the older diners that Tommy swore he hasn’t been to in years. The food tastes like shit but the atmosphere was nice. Ranboo said that he and his cousin were supposed to be there any second, but he also said that ten minutes ago, so Tommy was this close to believing that he was going to stand them up. 

Tommy nor Tubbo really bothered to talk to each other. Which was admittedly an abnormal occurrence, but Tubbo seemed to be stressed about something, so Tommy just let it be.

He was stressed about something as well.

But he pushed down the flashing images of the subway. Not here, not now. 

When Tubbo perked up, Tommy shot his attention to the entrance of the diner, and there in all his glory, was Ranboo. He looked disheveled to say the least. His hair was all over the place, and his shirt wasn’t even buttoned all the way.

Tommy was about to say something when Ranboo’s cousin walked in, and-

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

Both Tommy and Tubbo stiffened as Ranboo and Dream walked up to the table and situated themselves in their seats. If Tommy’s father were here, he would have told him to close his mouth before he ate a fly. Tubbo wasn’t any better. Maybe that’s understandable, because-

DREAM WAS RANBOO’S COUSIN?! What are the odds of that? That the very man that wants to kill him- and nearly killed him the other night with crazy fucking time powers- is one of his best friend’s cousins. 

And the worst part was that Dream just looked at him with equal surprise. Nothing like the powerful and terrifying act he held up before. No, both of them were taken aback by the situation they got themselves in.

This is okay, everything is okay. Just act natural.

Everyone just had to act natural.

“Sorry we’re late guys,” Ranboo exhaled, “I woke up late, and lost the keys, and foot traffic, and- oh my god- it was a disaster. Anyway, this is my cousin-”

“Dream. Dream Wastaken?” Tubbo blurted out.

Tubbo you literal dumbass. You-

“Yes?” Dream chuckled awkwardly, “How do you know who I am?”

Tommy opened his mouth, preparing to bullshit a response to save his friend’s ass, but Tubbo beat him to it, “You were in the newspaper a couple of years ago. For your athletic achievements. I thought it was cool,” he said stiffly. And of course Tubbo dug into every inch of this man’s life.

“Oh, yea. I did do that once.”

“How did you remember that?” Ranboo asked, looking up for a moment from where he was scanning the menu.

“Cause I thought his name was dumb.”

Tommy snickered at that one.

Dream looked at him for the slightest moment, but when he did, it felt as if time stopped. Dream was looking somewhere else before he could even blink.

“Your name’s not dumb , Dream. Tubbo’s just dyslexic,” Ranboo quipped.

“Oi! Whether I can read or not does not change the fact that Dream is a dumb name for dumb people. Sorry not sorry.”

“Ranboo, I didn’t know you were friends with little delinquents,” Dream said sarcastically, but Tommy saw right through it. Mainly because Tommy had yet to say a word. 

There was more talking between the table, but Tommy tuned them out. All he could hear was his foot anxiously tapping against the ground, and the news playing on the television across the room. The TV that was strapped to the wall.

The woman on the news was talking too fast for him to understand. But the video that was playing next to her was something he knew all too well. It played out one of his recent fights with the Arsonist.

He thought about how everyone would react now if the Smiley Man popped up on the news. How Ranboo would react, how Dream would try to cover it up.

But he wouldn’t. Because to the entire world, that fight didn’t happen. Dream bombed a school, and no one but Tommy knows about it. That means that Dream could do whatever he wanted and no one would know about it.

Dream could do whatever he wanted, and to the world, he didn’t even exist. 

But he still did damage. When the family got home from the school assembly, Wilbur had a bruise on his face. Though the man claimed that it was probably just an excited teenage girl, Tommy knew what happened.

And he knew that Dream still hurt people.

“-Tommy? You’ve been quiet,” Tubbo’s voice jumped him back into the conversation.

“Just waiting for the food to come, yeah?” he bit out. In reality, he wasn’t hungry anymore. The appetite left him the second Dream walked into the room.

They took that answer though, and continued talking. In their discussion, Dream looked over to him again. When they made eye contact, he didn’t pull away.

There was a tap on his leg, and Tommy jumped, but didn’t look down. Instead, he brought his arm down underneath the table, and felt something be placed in his hand. It felt like a folded up piece of paper.

Keeping his hand underneath the table, he looked down to his lap and started unfolding the paper. One, two, three times until it was fully open.

His breathing stopped, and his eyes widened.

It was a picture.

Of him and his family, in their kitchen. He remembers this moment, they were talking about Tommy’s math class, and how he was ‘way smarter than they’ll ever be’. 

The picture was taken from outside their window. He didn’t even realise that he was being watched. He didn’t even realise .

His stomach churned and cramped in on itself. The waitress was here but he wasn’t hungry in the slightest. Tubbo and Ranboo were sorting out the food, Dream was looking at him. There was no longer anything welcoming or surprise in his eyes. No, the man now only held the eyes of a predator.

And Tommy was the prey.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom,” he said almost breathlessly. He shot up and stumbled away before anyone could say anything.

The bathroom floor was dirty and grimy, and it was lined with trash and toilet paper, but that didn’t stop Tommy from curling up on the floor.

Fat, hot tears streamed down his face as he gasped for air. His attempts at sucking in oxygen were futile as sobs clogged his throat.

They were stalking him now? Him and his family? Was he even safe?

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this anymore. This was fucked up. He wasn’t ready for any of this. He’s not ready to go head to head with fucking phychopaths with deadly weapons.

He’s gonna die. He’s gonna die. If not fighting them, then right now, in this bathroom, where he can’t even get in a breath of air.

Someone was touching him, talking to him.

“-Tommy, you have to breathe,” the voice was steady and calming. He looked up to see Ranboo staring right at him, painfully reminiscent of the event that happened back in his spanish class.

He took in a deep, stuttering breath.

Ranboo and Tubbo were in the bathroom with him, one to his right, guiding him so he could breathe again, one to the left, looking on in worry.

“It’s okay,” Ranboo soothed.

“ No. It’s not ,” he sobbed, and that’s- that’s the first time he’s ever admitted that out loud, “It’s not.”

His friends must have realized that as well, because Tommy never admitted when he needed help. He’s never seen them look so concerned.

They sat there for a while, sitting next to each other on the floor, leaning against the wall. No one talked, and it made it blatantly obvious to Tommy’s now evening out breathing. Tommy very much could have been alone.

The tiles were cold.

“I’m so scared all the time,” he said, staring at the wall across from them, “And I think the world is ending.”

Chapter Text

By the time Tommy made it outside of his apartment, the snow was up to his shins. And, okay, maybe that was because of snow plows, but it was still a sight to behold. Usually there wasn’t a lot of snow to be seen around because of traffic, salt, and the heat of everything being so close together, so he would take anything he could get. 

They were barely halfway through the month of November and people were already putting Christmas decorations up. When they were kids, Wilbur used to always complain that Christmas was a capitalist holiday made up to give corporations money off of people’s emotions, and that you don’t need to buy someone something to prove that you love them.

Looking back on that mindset now, Tommy thinks that his brother might have hated the holiday because of all the movies and advertisements that would play all the time. All showing perfect families that loved each other and came together for the holidays. That maybe, Wilbur was jealous of what they had. Because up to the point of Wilbur running away, the Watson’s family Christmas was just Tommy being overly excited, Wilbur barely scraping by trying to make the holiday as fun as possible for him, Techno hiding in his room, and Phil working.

‘Nobody wants to work on Christmas. I wanted to be here today, but they needed me.’

After Wilbur left, and Tommy and Phil had to adapt to the new life of a two person family, Phil would always make a big deal about Christmas. Maybe it was to compensate for the years that he missed. Decorations, and movies, and sometimes they would go out to dinner with the Schlatts. But even Phil, with his excessive celebratory methods, did not start this early.

Techno had offered to cook for Thanksgiving, all by himself. He said that it would be a good challenge. Tommy never really celebrated the holiday on account of the whole vegetarian thing, but he could sit down and eat some broccoli for an afternoon.

Other than that, things had been relatively silent. Too silent.

Sure, there was the occasional runin with a villain doing some sort of petty crime, but half of them didn’t feel up to their style. None of them were as dangerous or show stopping as the first time. It almost felt as if they were doing it to keep him satiated, as if they were stalling for time.

It was suspicious to say the least. Because either they magically decided to stop their evil ways, or they’re doing something horrible behind the scenes that Tommy’s not aware about.

Tommy was trying his best to ignore it for now.

He was ignoring a lot of things.

Thing number one being his older brother walking to his right.

“So Phil said that you and I could handle desserts. So we could like- uh,” Wilbur snapped his fingers, trying to urge a thought, “You know that pie Aunt Madison used to make. I was thinking we could make that.”

“Didn’t she have a special recipe or something?”

“She said she did, but then I looked it up on Pinterest and she totally stole it-”

Of course she did.

"-But It looks like it would be easy enough to make on our own."

"Alright," It certainly wasn't the most awkward interaction with his brother as of late, but it kind of felt like he was just hanging out with a distant relative out of obligation, "Didn't she like, put apple slices in it?"

"Yea, and pears. And that weird fruit sauce."

"Alright, we can get that shit at that corner shop market."

"I thought we were going to that bodega across the street?" Wilbur inquired.

"I love that place, but eating the perishables there is a safety hazard."

"I didn't know that?"

"Yea, he got like, investigated for it a couple years ago."

Wilbur frowned and looked back over to Tommy. He had that same look in his eyes that he sported when he first came home, and when they had dinner that one time. It frankly made Tommy annoyed. What business did he have looking at Tommy like that?

"So I heard you had a panic attack the other day," Wilbur changed the topic.

"Yea? And what do you have to say about it?" he urged on, grimacing slightly. How did he even get that information? The only people that knew about that were Tubbo and Ranboo, and they promised not to tell anybody.

Unless they did. 

And judging by the looks on their faces, they probably did.

“It’s just that, like, I know what it’s like to go through tough times. And I’m always here to talk if you need it,” Wilbur offered, scratching the back of his neck.

Tommy grimaced, “I’m not going through anything . What would make you think that?”

“That,” Wilbur pointed out, and Tommy looked at him confused, “You’re so quick to anger now. And it’s- it’s like you’re fighting for your life at every turn. That’s not- you shouldn’t have to live like that.”

Tommy looked forward as they were walking down the street. They were nearing the store that had all the good produce. The sooner they could get the fruits and shit they needed, the sooner Tommy could leave and this conversation could be over, “I think you’re making assumptions about people you don’t know.”

“But I do know you, Tom. You’re my little brother.”

“No! You don’t. You don’t know anything about me. What’s my favorite color?”

“Red?”

“It’s purple,” he bit, “It’s been purple since I first met Ranboo three years ago, and he gave me a flower of that color.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur lifted his hands up. Tommy wasn’t sure what he was going to do with them, but it looked like Wilbur didn’t either. 

“I’m not fuckin’ eight anymore. You didn’t want to be here- good! I don’t want you here either! I have a life now and you just waltz in like that doesn’t matter!”

People that were walking by on the street were looking on now, some uncomfortable, some disinterested, all of them way too involved in the situation for Tommy’s liking. 

“What is it gonna take for you to understand that I love you, Tommy! I care about you so fucking much and it hurts to see you so bitter !” Wilbur shot back. And- Tommy had only really picked vicious fights with his father. He wasn’t used to someone yelling back.

But this was Wilbur. And the Wilbur he knew yelled a lot.

“You won’t even talk to me!”

“Yea, like you made any move to act like I even remotely existed in the last seven years,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

“I was scared! I didn’t- I was scared of here - and- and Phil .”

“That’s another thing! You and Tech are so adamant that Dad is still this neglectful bitch from seven years ago as if you two aren’t the same! As- as if he’s exempt from changing and forgiveness but I’m supposed to come crawling back to you without batting an eye. Because you love me .”

Wilbur moved forward and opened his mouth as to say something in response, but Tommy cut him off, “Because it doesn’t matter how much you loved me, you left too! ”

He basically shouted the last part, the only thing notifying him of such being the striking dead silence around him. Some of the people walking past the scene stopped in their tracks, the dude selling one section of the fruits couldn’t keep his eyes away.

And Wilbur, Wilbur didn’t do anything at all.

His eyes were wide, yet looking nowhere in particular. His mouth was slightly open, and his hands were still in front of him, opposed to Tommy’s, whoms were shaking frivolously.

Say something , Tommy wanted to scream, use your poetic words and tell me that I’m wrong .

Yet, like a note left on Tommy’s bedside table, Wilbur didn’t say anything.

“Wilbur?” A feminine voice asked from somewhere in the crowd. Both of the Watson boys looked over to who it belonged to. 

No one other than Niki, the girl from the bakery, stood before them. She knew Wilbur? Back when the brothers were close, Wilbur never really talked about having friends. But maybe this was just a girl that recognized his celebrity status?

“Niki,” Wilbur breathed, and Tommy could see that he wanted to go and hug the girl. He could also see that something  was stopping him.

Oh, it was him, wasn’t it.

Tommy sighed nice and loud, “Wil- just- get the fruit or whatever. I’m heading back to the house, it’s cold.”

Wilbur frowned at him, his eyes guilt ridden, and yet he still said, “Yea, go ahead.”

And Tommy doesn’t know why that answer made him angry if not disappointed. Maybe it was because Wilbur was letting him go- letting this go. Maybe it was because this didn’t end in fire or venom- instead in just a lingering statement. Maybe he was angry for no reason at all.

And for a second, Tommy realised that this was around the place that Puffy stopped him the last time he saw her.

Huh. . .

Fuck, it really was cold.

*****

It doesn’t matter how many times Tommy parades through the same shitty streets downtown, there is still no sight of any super villains, and at this point, he’s just cold.

“It’s pretty quiet tonight,” Tubbo says in accordance to the scarce amounts of crime that seemed to be around. It was surprising if Tommy was being completely honest. Christmas was just getting closer and closer, and this cold weather certainly wasn’t fairing well for the homeless. If anything, the crime should have increased, “I ought to build a lining in your suit with this weather.”

“Yea,” Tommy shivered, “At this point I just might call it a night,” In reality, he really didn’t want to. He hadn’t seen Wilbur since that whole fight in the middle of the street, and he wasn’t ready to even begin to process that.

He just wants to watch a movie with his father or something. He just wants things to go back to how they were before.

“Hmm. I heard that that taco truck down the street a little is selling hot cocoa now. We should get some,” the boy on the other end of the call offered.

“ We? ”

“What? We both deserve a break. Just get some and bring it back to my apartment, we can try it. My teacher says that it’s really good.”

Tommy rolled his eyes jokingly, “So I’m your errand boy now?”

“Pretty much. That’s basically how this arrangement works anyway.”

Tommy chuckled at that, “Alright, but you gotta pay me back.”

“It’s like seventy five cents. I think you’ll manage.”

With that, Tommy bounded forward and waited in line for the taco truck. They admittedly didn’t sell the best tacos. One time Tommy found a hair in his. But the owners had the spirit and that’s all that really mattered.

It was a little odd to be waiting in line in his superhero outfit. The people in front of and behind him were really trying their best to not look over at him, whether they recognized him as Dotratia, or if they thought he was just some crazy guy out on the streets.

“ Um, hot cocoa please- two please,” he stood on his tippy toes just so he could reach up to the high up counter. Really, he could just hold his breath and hover up until he was matching the height, but knowing his luck, he would accidentally breath and drop the cups of cocoa all over himself.

The two warm beverages were handed to him in cheap styrofoam cups, steam danced out from inside of them. There were no lids, and Tubbo’s house was kind of far away when he wasn’t flying.

The drinks are probably gonna get all cold by the time he gets there.

Whatever, they could have glorified chocolate milk.

Or. . .Chocolate water. He doesn’t really know how those guys made these things.

He doesn’t even really like hot cocoa anyway. It always entices you with a yummy chocolate flavor and then turns around and burns all of your tastebuds off. Half the time Tommy can’t understand how someone could love a beverage so backhanded.

He made it to Tubbo’s apartment as fast as he could, but even still the drinks weren’t steaming as much as they could. He walked over to his friend’s bedroom window, where the man himself was already waiting for his arrival. Grasping his hands onto the window, Tubbo opened it up with a smile.

“Two hot cocoas, kind of hot,” he announced, holding the two cups out in front of him.

“Sweet, let’s- Oh! Hold on!” Tubbo jumped up and ran out of his bedroom to somewhere deep in his apartment. When he came running back, there were two bags in his arms, one full of marshmallows and one full of what looked like mints.

“Mint?” he questioned.

“You’ve never had mint in your hot cocoa before?” Tubbo asked. Tommy shook his head, “Oh, I'm about to change your life.”

Tommy rested both of the cups onto the windowsill as Tubbo worked his magic. He took a huge handful of little mints and dropped it into one of the cups, while only adding three to the other. He then handed the cup with the lesser mints to Tommy.

“Alright, hold on,” Tommy jumped as Tubbo suddenly hoisted himself out of the window and guided the both of them over to the fire escape stairwells, “Follow me.”

The walk up was a little challaning with the snow covering the flimsy metal of the stairway, but when they made it to the top, Tommy was surprised to see that the roof was relatively untouched by snow.

“I found this out recently,” Tubbo motioned to it, “The apartments here use like a shit ton of heating. That heat goes like, up and melts all the snow off of the roofs. So not only is this place snow free, but it’s also nice and warm to sit on. Courtesy of my neighbor’s heating bill.”

The view was beautiful up here. Tommy wasn’t much of a rooftop dweller and even he had to admit that all of the snowy building tops were quite breathtaking.

“So, how am I supposed to drink this?” he looked over to Tubbo, gesturing to his mask.

“Here,” Tubbo maneuvered them both so they were sitting on the ground on the roof back to back, leaning against each other, “I won’t turn around, I promise.”

That- actually wasn’t that bad of an idea. Sure, there was so much room for error, so many opportunities for someone to see his face. But something about this rooftop felt untouchable, and so, he took his mask off and let the cold air brush against the skin of his face. He could already feel his nose going red.

The hot cocoa breathed warmth onto his lips before he drank it, that being the only semblance of the kind besides the warmed ground underneath him.

“So, how have you been?” Tubbo broke the momentary silence.

“What?”

“I dunno man. We’re on like scheduled break or something. How’s life been going?”

Tommy responded to the question with an exaggerated groan, “Would you be disappointed to find out that it’s not that peachy.”

Tubbo laughed at that, “Yea, I would assume that getting beat up all the time isn’t that much fun.”

“ Even worse . I have family issues.”

“ The Dotratia has family issues?” Tubbo replied jokingly.

“I’m still just some guy y’know. I think the supervillains beating me up tend to forget that.”

“Yea,” he could feel Tubbo perk up behind him, “By the way, you were talking about this guy named Dream.”

“The Smiley Man?”

“What? I didn’t know he had a villain name. I haven’t actually seen him out yet-”

Right. No one knows about the Dream fight. No one but him and Dream.

“-But like, I was searching into the guy’s life. Of course . And it turns out that he’s my best friend’s cousin.”

Yea. Yea, he is.

“Really?” he feigned surprise.

“Yea. And he honestly kinda seems like a pushover.”

Tommy snickered at the rude comment directed towards the man that clearly deserved it, leading the two of them to sit in silence once again.

If he closed his eyes, it almost felt as if nothing was wrong. And it was just Tommy and Tubbo sitting up on the roof, enjoying each other’s company. But mediocre high school art project on his face or not, Tommy was still wearing a mask, and Tubbo was one turn around from changing everything.

“Can I talk to you about something?” Tubbo asked, sounding a little too serious for Tommy’s liking.

“I’m not a therapist,” he warned, “But go ahead.”

Tubbo curled in on himself more, placing his nearly empty cup of hot cocoa on the ground next to them, “I have this friend, he’s been my best friend for like my entire life, no joke.”

Tommy felt his gut go uneasy as he clenched his jaw. Tubbo was talking about him . Behind his back. Not only did he feel like he was intruding on something he wasn’t supposed to hear, but he also felt slightly betrayed.

“And I love him, of course I do. He’s basically my brother. But,” Tubbo breathed in, trying to gather the right words, “He’s gone through a lot. And he doesn’t like to admit that he has. And- and it’s like- when he gets like this, he takes everyone else down with him.”

Tommy was dead silent, not even his brain could process the things he was hearing. And- maybe it was just the growing winter around them, but everything felt so much colder.

“And sometimes it’s just hard. And that’s like a really shitty thing to say- he’s my best friend, friends should be there when times are tough. But the thing is I’ve tried to be there. For years. And he doesn’t want my help.”

Tommy had to fight back any biting comments that were fighting to arise. Usually when he’s like this, anger comes quickly, but there was something underneath there. Something. . .devastated.

“What I’m trying to say is that I think the two of us need a break. Just- just until he figures his shit out. Because now I’ve got all this stuff with all the crime fighting, if things continue like they are, it’s only gonna get worse for both of us. I just don’t know how to tell him this.”

. . .

What was he supposed to say?

His best friend really didn’t want him anymore. That’s what this means, yea? After all this time he still hadn’t learned that everyone who loves him leaves.

He was lucky that no one could see his face, because he could feel warm tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t be venting all of this to you. We’re just work partners and all. Here- payback. Do you have anything you need to get off your chest? I’m a great secret keeper.”

How could Tubbo just continue on like this was just some joke?

“No,” he said hollowly, “No I don’t think I do.”

Tubbo sniffed, “That cocoa was pretty good. What did you think about the mint-”

“I have to go,” he cut Tubbo off. Sure, he didn’t want to go home, but he couldn’t stand to be here any longer. Tubbo wouldn’t want him here anyway.

“Wha-? Oh, okay. Is there a crime or anything? I can get back to my desk,” Tubbo turned around just as Tommy finished fastening on his mask.

“No. I just have places to be. I’ll. . .I’ll let you know when I’m out on patrol again,” he numbly stood up and started walking towards the fire escape, leaving Tubbo confused and in his dust.

His heart felt as cold as the air around him. Who needs Tubbo anyway. He can survive high school and this supervillain case all on his own. He’ll see. They’ll all see. He’s just as cool, and smart, and successful as he was before all of. . .this.

Fuck Wilbur. Fuck Tubbo. Fuck Dream, just because he deserves it.

It’s time Tommy, and Tommy himself ends this.

At least the hot cocoa was good.

Chapter Text

Tommy had not slept a wink in three days.

It turns out that if you want to hijack into some underground science lab that created deadly weapons at some point in the last decade, you have to do a lot of digging. His computer was practically boiling hot in its place where it sat on his lap. The thing hadn’t been turned off in about as long as he had been sitting here. The only thing keeping it alive was the fact that the cheap charger was practically acting as life support. 

Tubbo probably would have been able to do this in about half the time.

But Tubbo wasn’t here. And Tubbo didn’t want to be here. Not technically.

Who knew that being a superhero and fighting a super villain meant sitting around in your room for hours, sulking and scouring through the internet. He could swear that his bones were hurting from maintaining this position.

Clearly this was getting him nowhere. Dotratia needed to go out and play on the field.

The only problem with that was that he was still Tommy. And Tommy needed to go to school in about forty minutes. If only he could find it in himself to get out of bed.

But he didn’t have time for school . He had to get this shit show figured out. It was as if that was all his mind could concentrate on.

Maybe he could stay home for today? He could fake a single cough and Wilbur and Dad would be doting on him left and right. That would allow him more time to find out what the fuck is going on with Dream’s weapons. That, and he was feeling kind of shitty. But that was kind of his own doing.

It’s not like he was avoiding school or anything. No. He was a big, strong man and he was not afraid to go and see Tubbo.

There was a knock at the door.

“Yea?” he called out, allowing for whoever was behind the door to enter. You could not imagine the relief when he caught a glimpse of pink.

“So, you just not going to school today or what?” Techno’s nose pointed to where Tommy had formed a little nest of blankets and trash in his bed.

He groaned, opting for that to be his only response. Techno huffed.

“You kinda have to go, Tommy. No superhero stuff if your grades are bad,” Techno crossed his arms and leaned against the doorframe.

“What? No one said anything about that. That’s bullshit,” he grumbled.

“Well I did, just now. And last time I checked, I could just go and tattle to Phil, or like, the nearest news station. So keep those grades up.”

“Are you blackmailing me?”

“Eyup.”

“Dude! That’s shitty!”

“I’m literally your older brother. It’s my job to bully you.”

Tommy groaned once again and began to untangle himself from the knots of blankets formed around him. There was a particularly fuzzy one that his hand trailed along for just a moment. He absolutely hated the texture, but the snowman designs on them were so pleasant that he just had to buy it.

“So, how is that whole thing going anyway? I haven’t had to patch you up lately,” Techno arched his eyebrow in question.

“Literally nothing has happened,” he sighed, sitting up and stepping out of his bed, “It’s like they disappeared off of the face of the earth.”

“Maybe you’re just crazy.”

“Wouldn’t that make you and half of the US population crazy as well?”

“Well, I mean,” Techno drawled.

“Ugh, you’re so fucking edgy. Let me get dressed,” Tommy attempted to shoo his older brother out of the room as he scoured the floor for any discarded article of clothing that looked clean enough to wear for the day. There was no play practice after school, and he didn’t have any plans with any friends.

. . .

He didn’t have any plans with any friends. So he just needed to truck through school and get back home.

“Alright, well Will and I were gonna go to the local carnival later tonight if you wanted to join.”

“Why are you two going to the carnival? Isn’t that place for like, preteens and cheesy couples?” he grumbled, not wanting to attend that at all. The last time he went to a carnival, Ranboo got sick from some undercooked fried dough and Tubbo got lost for a good hour.

“Yea but our high school rival is gonna be there, and Wilbur’s still bitter. So he wants to like, show off that he’s a celebrity now or something,” Techno rolled his eyes retelling the story. That certainly sounded like something Wilbur would do.

“You guys have a high school rival ?” What was this? An 80’s sitcom?

“Yea, his name’s Dream. Don’t even ask me how Wilbur got in contact with that guy again.”

Oh shit. That’s his highschool rival!

Tommy perked up, “I’ll come with you guys.”

This could be his chance to get this whole ordeal back on its feet. Sure, this technically counted as stalking Dream. But he did it first. So like, he just had to fight fire with fire.

“What? You literally just said that you didn’t want to go,” Techno crossed his arms.

“Well I want to now. Personally, I just wanna see you get into a fist fight with some guy,” sure, he could tell the truth about why he actually wanted to join them. Techno knew about the alter ego thing. But it was about time that Tommy started relying on himself. If he couldn’t even confront Dream at a carnival, then what kind of superhero was he?

“Alright I guess. But you know I don’t fight anymore, right?”

“You’re a doctor, yea? You’ll know the best places to injure. And besides. If you get your shit rocked, I can be the one to patch you up this time,” he smiled nice and wide, showing off his teeth that he hadn’t brushed in maybe too long.

Techno rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Get to school before I pick you up and carry you there myself.”

“Fine, fine. No need to have a stick up your ass about it,” his head got stuck trying to tear off his t-shirt, and it took an embarrassingly long amount of time to get out of his self made trap. By the time he could finally see the light of day again, Techno was gone from his place in the doorway. 

The fucker couldn’t even close the door behind him.

*****

Tommy did not want to be here. That was all that he could think about as he sat hunched in on himself in his first period class.

Sure, there was nothing different about the school day today than there was any other day, but it just felt different. It felt as if he was walking on a lake of thin ice, and his heart stopped every time the classroom door opened and someone entered.

It’s not like he’s avoiding Tubbo, or scared of seeing him. No, he would just rather. . .not interact with him today.

A part of him still hadn’t completely digested what he heard the other night. Him and Tubbo were supposed to be best friends, brothers. What happened to that? When had Tubbo stopped wanting to be friends with him? What did he even do?

He couldn’t understand the feelings that were festering up inside of him. It felt like how it did when he was angry, except prolonged and foreboding. He felt like a ticking time bomb and Tubbo hadn’t even entered the room yet.

He was actually earlier than usual- with the urging of Techno. Even the teacher was surprised that he walked through the door before either of his friends did. And he could say for certain that he knew why he was never early.

This sucked.

He had no one to talk to! No one to distract him from the racing thoughts in his brain about family troubles, and friend troubles, and. . .magical supervillain troubles.

No, instead he was stuck here, tapping his pencil against the desk and staring out the window at the snow flurrying down from the sky. Admittedly, it looked like horrible weather to be attending a carnival, but he would burn that bridge when he got there.

“Tommy? What are you doing here so early?” Ranboo asked from where he entered through the doorway. The taller boy dropped his backpack to the floor as he lowered himself down onto his desk.

“My brother made me come early,” he groaned, happy that at least someone was here to talk to him. He propped his head up on his hand.

“Wilbur Soot?” Ranboo asked.

“No, the other one. And you don’t have to call him Wilbur Soot y’know.”

“I’m sorry, it’s still just weird to think about how he’s your brother.”

“Yea and it’s weird for me to think about how he’s a celebrity,” Tommy shot back.

“Fair.”

The pause in conversation gave Tommy a chance to look around the classroom once again. It was getting pretty late.

“Where’s Tubbo?”

“He stayed up super late last night, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he was sleeping in,” Ranboo replied, “He’ll just come in later.”

Tommy sighed. That was a relief at least.

The class went on without a hitch after that. He wasn’t really listening to what the teacher was saying. His brain couldn’t even latch onto the idea of the days of the week in Spanish when he still had no clue what Dream and the others were planning.

Oh god, Dream. Was he outside the windows right now? Watching him from afar?

He looked over to Ranboo, who was sitting next to him and writing something down absentmindedly. Did he know about what his cousin was doing? Tommy couldn’t bear the idea of one of his best friends being a part of them.

“Hey, you alright man?” Ranboo whispered to him, catching on to his staring. The action caused Tommy to blink out of his stupor.

“Yea, I’m fine,” he whispered back, “Just thinking about something.”

Ranboo seemed to take that as an acceptable answer, but Tommy took this as an opportunity to speak more, “Sorry I like, freaked out the other day. Your cousin wasn’t too upset right?”

“It’s okay Tommy, really. If anything he was just worried,” Ranboo replied. In all honesty, this wasn’t the first time Tommy had apologized for ruining their lunch. But this time he was doing it for a reason, he needed a segway.

“How is your cousin anyway?”

“He’s been alright. ‘Been really busy though.”

Tommy grimaced, but only a little, “Busy?”

“He said he got this new job. He’s gonna move out of our apartment and get his own; actually stay in the city for a while,” Ranboo sounded like he was really excited to have his cousin stay in the city for longer.

Tommy, decidedly, was not.

“Do you know where he’s working?” Tommy inquired, silently hoping that he didn’t sound too invasive.

 Ranboo hummed lightly in thought, “I think it was this science lab? It was called ‘Science in Matter Programming’.”

That sparked something.

Dream was working in a science lab.

He was looking for information on a science lab.

This couldn’t be a coincidence.

“Oh, that’s coo-”

“Would you two in the front like to share with the class what you’re talking about?” the teacher announced, annoyed with their whisperings.

The two shut up pretty quickly after that.

Pretending as if he was taking notes, Tommy flipped open to one of the pages in his notebooks and scribbled down the name of the place Ranboo had said Dream worked at. For safe measure, he circled it and underlined it a couple of times.

He spent the rest of the period looking at the name he had scribbled on the paper. It looked oddly familiar, but he just couldn't place his finger on it.

Where had he seen this name before?

The thought puzzled him for the rest of the school day. Something festering and itching at the back of his brain. Ranboo tried his best to start up a conversation, talk to him, anything, but his attempts were for naught.

Tommy didn’t even notice when Tubbo arrived.

He was at his locker, shuffling through the stacks of paper that were splayed messily at the bottom when the telltale sound of his friends deep in conversation grew louder and louder until they were next to him.

It felt normal at first. This was how it would work every day. He would get his stuff from his locker, his friends would meet him there, and the three of them would walk home.

That was until things changed. That was until what Tommy had heard come out of his friend’s mouth last weekend. He turned around with a glare, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Hey Tommy,” Tubbo greeted when the blonde turned around.

“ Hey ,” he clenched his fists. Tubbo looked like he was having so much fun talking to Ranboo before Tommy arrived. Was he overthinking things?

No. No he wasn’t.

“What’s up with you, man?” Tubbo arched his eyebrow in question. Tommy hated the stupid look on his face right now. Who gave him the right to be worried?

“Nothing, Tubbo,” he replied sharply, though he quickly straightened himself out by adding on a joking, “I’m right as rain.” 

They started their walk towards the exit of the school, and that would have been the end of that if Tommy hadn’t happened to hear Tubbo whisper an exasperated ‘Jesus’ underneath his breath.

“Excuse me?” he turned around.

“What?” Tubbo looked at him dumbly.

“No, what did you say? Say it to my face.”

Ranboo looked uncomfortable at what was happening in front of him, but Tommy wouldn’t stand down. And by the look of Tubbo's confrontational expression, it seemed like he wouldn’t be either.

“Why are you in such a shit mood all the time, dude. I didn’t do anything!” Tubbo grumbled.

“Sure,” Tommy scoffed.

“Fuck off, dude! I don’t wanna hang out with you if you’re gonna be like this.”

“You don’t wanna hang out with me ever!”

“That’s real cute, Tommy. You’re the one that always blows off plans!”

“I do not!”

“You do! You always do! How many times can you say you have ‘family business’, Tommy. You’re just keeping secrets at this point.”

Tommy inhaled a deep breath of something hot and hate filled. So that’s how he wants to play? Fine. Tommy can do that too.

“Yea? Since when did you wear hearing aids?” he barked. Tubbo stiffened and looked at him with an expression that Tommy couldn’t quite place.

“How did you know that I wear hearing aids?”

“Halloween,” he lied, “I saw you through the window on my way there.”

Tubbo stuttered for words, Tommy took this as an opportunity to jump in again, “Why would you hide that from me? Ranboo knows.”

He spoke Ranboo’s name with such venom that the teen himself, who was previously watching with apt worry, jumped at the mention.

“If you don’t want me around anymore, just say it pussy!”

“Fine!” Tubbo shouted back, “If this is how you’re gonna act then I don’t want to see you anymore!”

Tommy scoffed, looking almost as if he was spitting, “Fine!”

“Fine!” Tubbo parroted.

“ Fine! ” Tommy latched onto his backpack straps and paraded away from the scene. His shoes stomped against the ground with such ferocity that he was half sure it would leave scuff marks.

But he didn’t care. Fuck this stupid school.

He didn’t care about anything. Who needs friends anyway.

Tommy didn’t need Tubbo. Dotratia didn’t need Tubbo. He was the one given powers, he was the one that was going to fix everything.

And if there was the creeping thought- yearning that none of this ever happened in the first place- then he pushed it deep, deep down.

The walk home was lonely with no one walking with him. And with the other pedestrians looking down on him with pity, all he wanted to be was invisible.

Why couldn’t people mind their own business? Sure, some kid was tearing up in the middle of the sidewalk. But that wasn’t their problem.

When he made it to the door to his apartment, he just couldn’t get the key to turn.

‘Fuckin- come on-’

He grumbled as he jiggled the handle. Single teardrops were hot as they rolled down his cheeks.

And when he finally entered his apartment, his entire family was waiting right there in the kitchen. All of them stood up at the sight of him.

“Toms? What’s wrong?” His father asked lightly, already holding a hand out in front of him. His eyes were filled with the same emotion they were the other countless times Tommy walked in crying or bloody.

Techno gave him a look with a different sense of knowing. The knowing that your little brother was a superhero that put himself in danger every day.

But this wasn’t a superhero problem. This was just a Tommy problem.

Which was why, without really thinking, Tommy sucked up a vocal sob and ran into the arms of his older brother.

. . .

Wilbur only paused dumbfounded for a moment before he wrapped his arms tightly around his little brother.

“It’s okay- hey- it’s okay,” he murmured underneath his breath, and Tommy was taken back to a time where this was familiar. When it was just Tommy and Wilbur. Before Wilbur left.

And now that he has the chance to think about it, maybe-

-Maybe Tommy left as well.

Chapter Text

The first time Tommy went to the carnival down by the pier, he was still young enough to be held in Wilbur’s arms. He was just about six, and the older of the two would alway complain that he was ‘getting too heavy for this’, and yet there he was, still on Wilbur’s hip with two little arms wrapped around his neck.

At that point in his life, he had never seen any animals other than maybe a squirrel or two in real life, and he almost didn’t believe Wilbur when he told him that they were going to see some.

He had twisted tales about how the elephants were twenty times the size that Tommy was, maybe even more. And it was safe to say that the younger was ecstatic. 

Back when Tommy was six, the circus was the most amazing thing he had seen in his entire life.

If you were to ask him now, he would say that it was miserable.

Don’t even get him started about what they do to those elephants. There’s a reason he’s a vegetarian.

It definitely wasn’t as awe inspiring as it was the first time; the place had gone downhill. Or maybe he had just gotten older. Old enough to notice the rips and dirt on the fabric of the tents, and the expensive price of all the food around him. They were selling water? For four dollars? These are the types of criminals that Dotratia should be stopping.

That and it was winter. Which meant it was cold out. Like, really cold, and dreary. It was hard to be into the cheery carnival scene when your shoes were soaking wet with snow slosh.

Who knows, maybe he was being a bit pessimistic. God knows he wasn’t having the best day.

Neither he or Wilbur talked about the whole hug thing that happened earlier. The only implication that it even happened in the first place was that the man was now hovering a little closer than usual.

He had explained to his entire family about the fight, but they were no help at all.

‘Oh, I’m sure you two will figure it out.’

‘You two are best friends, nothing can separate you guys.’

Sure. He didn’t even want to think about Tubbo.

Or maybe ever.

He felt around the outside of his drawstring backpack. Once he felt the telltale feeling of a porcelain mask, he calmed his festering worries.

He had taken the earpiece Tubbo had given him and threw it in the trash. Their fit in the halls solidified the fact that Tommy had to finish this mission alone.

Did he know exactly what his mission currently was? No. So he was kind of just following his brothers aimlessly until they came upon Dream, and then he would. . .He would figure that part out when he gets there.

“Do you want anything to eat, Toms?” Wilbur asked, looking around at the frankly dubious looking and greasy foods for sale.

Before Tommy could reply with a very obvious ‘no’, Techno denied the offer for him, “I can make something ten times better at home.”

“Hey, all I’m saying is that your food is nice, but sometimes you need to eat something that’ll stop your heart,” Wilbur smiled with his eyes closed. The man was a good couple of inches taller than everybody else in the crowd, and he was parading around like a giant.

“Yea, there is no way I’m eating something if I don’t know what’s in it. Especially if it’s from the city,” Techno squinted.

“You like cooking a lot , dude,” Tommy commented, “Back when I was little you would never eat with us.”

“Yea, that’s because I wouldn't eat ,” Techno replied almost too swiftly. Tommy looked on worriedly and bit his lip. That was certainly a bombshell to drop in the middle of this public setting.

“Wait, really?”

“Ehyup. It’s real easy to do that type of shit when no one is there to notice,” Tommy looked up at him with big eyes. He didn’t know about this, “It’s not that big of a deal, kid. This was years ago.”

“Wha- okay,” Tommy counted that as the end of the conversation as he looked forward and continued walking with the group. Though he made sure to bury that conversation deep down to reflect on later.

“So the actual circus thing starts in like, thirty minutes. So that should give up enough time to find our seats. Their nosebleeds ,” Wilbur jumped back into the conversation.

“Oh no, how will we manage,” Techno rolled his eyes. 

They stopped near the front of the tent, there was a line to get in, but it wasn’t the longest line Tommy had seen. Though he did wish that they could get out of the cold. With nothing else to do, Tommy did what he did best.

Stare into space.

Looking along the city skyline, he let his vision blur out as he stood there and waited for the line to progress. His older brothers seem to be doing just about the same thing. Tommy has to be reminded sometimes that the three of them are, in fact, siblings, and they do have genetic similarities.

His staring sesion didn’t last for long though, as someone walked up to him.

“Is that- Wilbur Soot?” Someone spoke, drawing out the name. At first, Tommy would have brushed it off as just another fan of Wilbur’s band, but that voice- that voice was familiar. Something about it sunk deep in his stomach.

Well, he did come here so he could see Dream.

“ Dream ,” Wilbur exclaimed in a strained voice, “What a surprise it is seeing you here!”

Sure, a surprise. But Tommy was not about to out Wilbur’s pettiness.

“A surprise for you? I haven’t seen you lot in years ,” Dream smiled, only flicking his eyes over to Tommy for a second. 

Wilbur chuckled, but it sounded fake, like he was working customer service, “Had to get out of the city, y’know. Look around.”

Oh my god, it was like watching two old people converse. How older were they? In their twenties? That was old enough. 

“I get it, I get it. Got famous while you’re at it?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say famous ,” Wilbur drew out.

Deciding that he was bored of listening to this conversation, Tommy directed his attention to something else. And that something else happened to be the person standing next to Dream. 

He looked. . .uncomfortable to say the least.

“ Uh- Hey. Tommy, hey,” Ranboo gave an awkward smile. Of course he would be here with his cousin. It would be kind of weird for Dream to come here alone.

“Hey,” he sighed. He didn’t really know his current standing with Ranboo, their emotional distance. But considering how uncomfortable he looked during his and Tubbo’s argument, he knew it wasn’t great. 

“Are you- how are you doing?” Ranboo looked down at him. The line moved forward a little.

“I’m fine ,” he replied simply.

Okay.

So it didn’t really seem like Ranboo was that mad at him like Tubbo was, but the guy also had no clue how to act.

And who was to say that Tommy wasn’t mad at Ranboo. Tubbo’s better friend. Tommy knows for a fact that Ranboo helped keep secrets from him. Who knows what else he did.

“So,” Ranboo drew out, “About earlier-”

“Tommy! Come on, let’s go find our seats,” Tommy was saved by the bell as Wilbur turned around and grabbed onto Tommy’s arm, dragging him into the circus tent from where they were at the beginning of the line. It was clear that the man was angered if not annoyed from talking to Dream, but Tommy was not about to prod into it. 

It took a lot of climbing and stepping around people’s bags, but eventually they made it to their seats overlooking the pit in the middle. Tommy couldn’t help himself from scouring the audience for Ranboo and Dream. They were sat almost directly across from his own group, migling in their own conversation. Ranboo looked so comfortable and lackadaisical hanging out with the man. If only he knew what he did behind the scenes.

But Tommy was not about to break his heart by telling him. 

“So why did you even want to come here in the first place?” He asked, looking over to his brothers. They looked a little out of place just sitting there, and Techno looked very uncomfortable about half of the things happening around him.

“I dunno. I was bored and we haven’t been here in forever,” Wilbur replied.

“Well yea, the last time we were here, I was six,” Tommy droned.

“Forgive me for wanting to be nostalgic,” Wilbur quipped.

“The second he saw Dream post about going here, he bought tickets,” Techno jumped in with his monotone drawl, not even looking up from his phone.

“Nostalgic and petty.”

“How do you guys even know Dream anyway?” he asked, “You never talked about him before.”

“He just used to be this dick back in high school,” Wilbur replied, “Would always pick fights with Techno.”

“I was a spunky kid with a bad family life and he was the only person willing to throw punches with me,” Techno clarified. 

“And he’d always steal my dessert at lunch. Like, dude,” Wilbur grumbled.

“Wow, this really sounds like something horrible that will stick with you for a lifetime,” Tommy raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yea, my therapist knows him by name,” Wilbur joked, and Tommy snickered. Oh god, he just laughed at one of Wilbur’s jokes. And the prick noticed it too because he gave a little smile .

Tommy squinted and looked back towards the pit. It looked as if the show was just starting up, with a man in glitter-covered suit walking up to the middle. He was wearing a big top hat as well, which he took off to accentuate his speaking.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he announced with a loud and boisterous voice, “I am honored to have you here today at my little show of freaks!”

Tommy scoffed at the wording of ‘freaks’. These were just people with weird talents or too much time on their hands. The only person with freak-like powers here was him.

Well, him and Dream.

But he digresses.

“We have a special show for you today,” the announcer continued, marveling across the crowd. It wasn’t the biggest group of people, considering the weather, but that didn’t stop his excitement, “A special guest, a man of advanced technological skill! The Cyborg .”

That was a stupid, stupid name.

And that’s coming from a guy who was involved in the superhero world, which revolved around making up stupid names.

He had heard about the Cyborg before. If he could remember correctly, the guy performed at this very same show back when he was here the first time. Back when he was six. So, first of all, the announcer was a total liar- the Cyborg has been here for an actual decade.

Though, second of all, the Cyborg was probably the most interesting guy in this entire circus. He came in about halfway through, and he would show off all these crazy flashy gadgets that he made all by himself.

He had truly never seen anything like it before. It was like they took power out of nowhere just to amaze it’s viewers with lights and sounds and sparks that looked scary at first, but that was all part of the mystique. 

As the show started up, that was all he could think about. Sure, the gymnasts were cool and talented, and he may or may not have looked away when the elephants walked on, but the Cyborg was the only reason this circus stayed open, and it was pretty obvious why.

The man of the hour himself walked up and addressed himself to the crowd. He was older than the last time Tommy had seen him, of course he was, it’s been a decade. He had a long beard now, and yet his outfit was exactly the same.

His act was the same as well, if not with a few tweaks. It started with him shooting up what looked like holographic fireworks. Little sparks that licked the faces of the front row, yet didn’t hurt them at all. If Tommy remembered correctly, there would be another set of those things at the end- one big cannon that would shoot a giant explosion of what Tommy could only describe as stars.

Before that though, he would parade around with his animatronic animals, entertaining the adults that appreciated the workmanship and the children that still believed in magic. 

Now Tommy was not a child, but he believed in magic.

He kind of had to, he was .

Maybe this show wasn’t that bad, it was certainly a trip down memory lane. He looked over to the left, where his two brothers were sitting lazily and watching the show. And he couldn’t help but admit to himself that he was having a good time.

Maybe the three of them could have a good time.

When he looked back down into the pit, the Cyborg was focussing on one of his animatronic monkeys to the left. Everyone’s attention was glued to that location, right at the spotlight.

That’s why it was so odd when Tommy looked over, and saw something off about the large finale cannon. Tommy squinted. Was it. . .moving?

It was as if the ground underneath it was shifting underneath it’s wheels.

Wait-

His gaze shot up to where Dream was sitting- or supposed to be sitting. Because where the man once was before, was now only inhabited by a lonely looking Ranboo.

Shit.

Dream was trying to steal the cannon.

The Smiley Man was trying to steal the cannon.

He looked over to Techno, tugging on his arm. The pink haired man leaned over with a quirk in his eyebrow.

“ Techno ,” He whispered underneath his breath, nudging the drawstring bag that was sitting near his feet. Though it wasn’t about the bag, it was about the contents inside of it. Techno seemed to get his wordless plea. He looked around for a second and then whispered himself.

“ When I get down, you burst the lightbulb above us,” he instructed. Tommy replied to that with a firm nod.

Techno leaned back over and evened himself out, pretending to watch the show with apt attention. After a couple of moments, he slowly looked up, as if he heard something amiss, and then shot his body to the left, handling Wilbur’s shoulders.

“Look out!” Techno threw not only himself but Wilbur to the ground in a confused heap just in time for Tommy to burst the lightbulb into a million shiny pieces.

While his brothers were stuck in the bleacher- distracted- Tommy took his chance and grabbed onto his bag, running down the steps. He just needed to make it underneath the bleachers where he could change, and then everything would be safe and sound.

Unfortunately, his brothers weren’t the only people the light burst ticked off.

Dream took this as a sign Tommy was ready to fight.

Which he was absolutely not.  

It was as if an earthquake hit the place. A really bad one. And considering there were like, no earthquakes in New York, people were freaking out.

Screams rang out as the earth shook and ground rose around them, snapping some of the bleachers in two.

It was times like these where Tommy really needed to gain control of his swearing problem, because he was freaking out . He caught a glimpse of Ranboo across the room for just a second. He was panicked- more panicked than usual. It looked like he was looking around for someone- probably Dream, who must have ‘gone to the restroom’ or something.

Just as he rounded around the end of the bleachers, he heard someone call out his name. He ignored it, and ripped open the bag, throwing on his costume and mask.

And then he was running out to the scene with nothing but his fists and his knowledge.

This is what he knew: Dream had the power to control the earth. But he was also a massive bitch, and has tech along with him, so who knows what the man could do. Control power and time at the very least. There was also a good chance that his buddies were somewhere around here too if this was a planned attack.

It had to be a planned attack, unless Dream was just a psycho that enjoyed attacking circusses on a whim.

The animatronic animals were going haywire, both chasing away the scared civilians and biting at Tommy himself. And oh boy- if these things were creepy in their normal form, they were downright terrifying when they’re trying to murder you.

There was no way that Nook robot could go haywire, right?

At least Dream was kind enough to meet him in the middle of the pit, smiley mask and all.

And the fighting began.

Tommy started by telepathically grabbing onto Dream’s form and launching it to the right. Though impressive, the villain drew up part of the ground, and met it before he could get too far. Using that velocity, he launched himself back over and delivered a punch to Tommy’s shoulder.

Tommy prepared something else on the top of his mind as the ground directly underneath him grew unsteady. God, he hated to admit that this was much harder without Tubbo here.

The dirt beneath him that was just a moment ago rising, now dropped desperately low, taking Tommy with it.

He drew in a sharp breath, and let the dropping floor leave without him. When he made it back on to even ground, Dream was far away, back at the cannon that was attacked in the first place. There was something in his hand that he shoved into his pockets, but Tommy ignored that in favor of attacking him once again.

He shot forward, just to get a little bit closer to him and punch in his general area.

Dream dodged and did something that Tommy did not expect.

He ran away.

Tommy didn’t really even notice at first. But suddenly Dream was launched up to the sky with a thick black wire. He shot up through a whole in the tent fabric, and he was gone from sight.

Shit, maybe he should catch him.

Tommy ran out of the tent as fast as he could. The crowd that was once inside of the building-like area was now outside. Not totally ran away, instead just kinda forming a crowd and watching. There were also members of the circus, clustered off to the side.

Opting to just use his feet, he ran off in the direction he thought Dream ran off too, scanning the rooftops for him as well. Why did he run away? Why did he even attack the circus in the first place? Tommy’s mind swirled with possibilities.

“ Dotratia ,” Tommy screamed as a small voice to him from very close to his face,” Woah, are you alright? What’s happening?”

“What the fuck!” Tommy breathed, opting to stop his chase in Dream, deeming it useless.

“ I came on and saw that you were on patrol, but you never notified me,” Tubbo’s voice was deeper than usual, and there was emotion laced in the words. But the last thing Tommy wanted to do right now was talk to Tubbo about emotions.

“I don’t have my earpiece on. How did you know I was on patrol?”

“ There’s another mic in your mask, ” Tubbo replied simply, “And there’s a little camera, so I can see where you are, duh.”

His heart dropped, mortified, “ What ,” he hissed.

“What? How do you think I know your location all the time? Don’t worry, I turn it off when you end patrols.”

Tommy would just have to pray and trust that Tubbo wasn’t snooping on him and Dotratia’s personal life. To be fair, if he was, he would probably have told him by now.

“Well you’re a little too late now Tubs- oh ,” he stuttered, rushing over the nickname that only Tommy used, “I already scared off the bad guy.”

“Boo,” Tubbo sighed, sounding way more disappointed than usual. It must be a part of his bad mood, “Are you gonna continue patrol?”

“Nah, I gotta get home,” more like he had to get back to where his two brothers were in the evacuated crowd. Wilbur was probably freaking the fuck out over his dissapearance. Hopefully Technoblade was really good at lying.

He was not happy about Tubbo installing a camera and a communication function into his mask. The guy was making this whole solo mission thing really hard. Why couldn’t he just give up on Dotratia like he gave up on Tommy.

Tommy sighed, turning back around to where the crowd was just behind a couple of buildings.

He would have to make a few . . .tweaks to his mask.

*****

It was later in the night a couple of days later when Tommy found himself in the company of his father in the living room. Techno and Wilbur had gone out to meet with some old friends, which left the two blondes of the family to watch a shitty old Christmas movie that played on cable every year.

Tommy curled up against his father’s side, and arm wrapped around his shoulder as he stared aimlessly at the cartoon in front of him. A couple days into that argument and there was still no word from Tubbo. The guy was avoiding him like the plague. Whenever he caught even a remote glance at him at school, he would just turn around and walk away, Ranboo skittishly trailing behind.

The only time he even heard Tubbo’s voice was when he was acting as Dotratia, and that was when he didn’t want him there. But he wasn going to think about that.

He hadn't spent some time alone with his father in a while anyway.

They used to have a comfortable routine before the twins moved back, but that had seemed to be something of the past now. It was safe to say that despite the bickering, he missed him.

Which is why when Phil offered that they make some popcorn and watch a movie, he said yes immediately.

The movie wasn’t the most interesting. This is the type of shit he would watch when he was a toddler. But there was something nice about how mundane it was. He liked how he didn have to think too hard about watching it. His brain deserved a break after everything.

They made it about thirty minutes in with comfortable silence before Phil spoke.

“So,” Phil started, “How’s everything been going? With your brothers being back and all.”

Tommy sighed, “I don’t know,” he responded truthfully, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to talk to them when I don’t even know how I feel about them half the time.”

“You seemed to have warmed up to Techno,” Phil offered, “Wilbur not so much?”

Even now, sitting here, Tommy didn’t know how to sort through her contradictory and confusing thoughts, “I loved him so much. And then- and then he just left . And then I was mad at him for so long. And that’s what he deserves! I should be fucking pissed at him for leaving! But then he came back, and sometimes all I want is like, a hug from him, and then I’m mad at him for coming back.”

He furrowed his eyebrows as he continued his mini rant, “And- and he doesn’t even know how to talk to me half the time! I thought he came here to save the day or whatever, but he’s more lost than I am!”

“I think you two need to sit down and talk to each other. Even if you’re more. . .mad than you are right now, you won’t stay suspended like this,” Phil recited. What, did he get that from his therapist or something?

“You know that means you have to talk to them at some point as well, right.”

Phil sighed. Yea, that was just about the reaction he was expecting. If the Watsons were one thing, they were devastatingly horrible at communication. 

They kind of left that conversation off after that. Tuning back into the movie in front of them. Though the old 2d animation was cute and pleasant to look at, Tommy’s mind was now wandering elsewhere.

“Do you ever blame yourself for Techno and Will leaving?” He asked quietly, keeping his eyes on the movie and his head leaned against his father’s shoulder. Phil didn’t move from his position either.

“It’s pretty easy to blame yourself on something when it is your fault, mate,” he replied in a tone that sounded as if he had made peace with that fact, “I was a pretty horrible father.”

Tommy didn’t deny him on that, though something inside of him urged that he should, “Do you think you’re still one- a horrible father?”

Phil shifted and tightened his hold around Tommy’s shoulder, rubbing it with his thumb, “I’d really like to think I'm not. I just wish I knew how to talk to you guys sometimes.”

The movie had switched to some commercial about a pressure cooker, but Tommy doubts that either of them were paying attention to it at this point.

“It’s just, sometimes, especially recently, I’m so afraid that I’ll lose you too,” Phil continued, his voice sounding fragile, “And I hate seeing you so upset all the time. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

Tommy frowned as he snuggled closer into his father’s side. He could hear the tell tale sound of sniffling. He had never seen his father cry before. Sure, he knows he has- clearly, the man was a mess over seven years ago, but that was always behind closed doors. He had never seen his father cry before, he could just about feel himself tearing up as well. 

“So please, just tell me what’s wrong so I can make it better,” his father’s voice broke, and at this, Tommy turned around and wrapped his arms around the man. Phil hugged him back, crying into his shirt.

“It’s not you,” he mumbled into Phil’s shirt, “It’s not your fault.”

The two hugged, totally ignoring the commotion on the television. At some point, Tommy drew his knees forward, sitting there as if he was a little child in his father’s arms again. He never got to do that when he was a kid.

“Please don’t leave me,” Phil whispered.

“I won’t,” Tommy whispered back, “I won’t. But you can’t leave me either.”

And it was at that moment that Tommy realized he lost just about everything. That- in some weird way- he knew how his father felt. He was afraid to lose anyone else.

Just like before all of this , all they really had was each other. 

(And when Wilbur and Techno would return to the apartment later, they would find their brother and father cuddled up, asleep on the couch. 

Techno would turn off the television and lay a blanket on the both of them. And Wilbur would look on, and think about how long he was gone.)

Chapter Text

Well, it seems that the citizens of New York did not, in fact, like the whole ‘circus incident’.

But protesting on the streets might be a little overboard. 

Tommy woke up one day, not by his alarm, nor by the knocking of his door, but by the commotion raging outside. With a grumble, when he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he stretched up and looked out the window near his bed. A group of people were marching down the streets with signs in their hands. They looked- eloquently put, pissed off.

Initially, he had thought nothing of it, and launched himself back into his bed to reclaim some of the sleep he had lost.

It wasn’t until he walked out of his bedroom and into the living room, when he would get an explanation. The twins were sitting on the couch, looking at whatever was playing on the television, and his father was rummaging through the kitchen.

He groaned and made his presence known.

“Toast is done,” was all Phil replied with. Though, Tommy nodded to that and sauntered over to where his beloved breakfast was waiting for him. He took a crunchy bite into the toast and grimaced. It. . .didn’t taste as good as it usually did. Was he getting tired of toast? He’s eaten the same meal for years now, how could he possibly get tired of it?

Refusing to accept any more change in his life, he scarfed down the toasted bread.

“Oh good lord ,” Techno drawled with exasperation, reacting to something on the tv. Curious, Tommy looked over.

It looked to be live footage of the protesters. He could recognize some of the people that had rudely woken him up earlier. Though, now that there was a shot on the television, he could clearly see what was on their signs.

They were- they were protesting against Dotrartia?

Tommy’s stomach dropped like it seemed to do all the time now. They were protesting against him? That wasn’t- no, that wasn’t right, he was the good guy. What was he doing wrong?

“The guy literally protects the city from super villains, and now they’re complaining?” Techno complained himself, squinting at the screen. It was reminiscent of when Schaltt would sit on his recliner and complain about the logistics of sports.

“I mean, he did cause all that damage at the circus,” Wilbur offered, “We were there. We could have gotten hurt,” Wilbur looked at Tommy when he said that last part. And though, in truth, it meant that the brunette was afraid Tommy himself would get hurt, Tommy couldn’t help but interpret it as blame.

Tommy grimaced, and curled in on himself.

This was not good, this was horrible actually. 

“Yea, but Dotratia was the one that saved everybody from that other guy going berserk,” Techno shot back. At least one brother was defending him. 

“Wasn’t that the guy who could move the earth and stuff? How would he be able to mess with light bulbs?” Wilbur questioned, and- shit. He was right with that one. The conversation between the two twins continued on, but Tommy tuned them out, looking over to his father. The man was leaning over the counter, looking at the television as well.

Phil hummed, “Tom, I don’t know if I want you walking to school alone right now.”

“What?” Tommy burst out, “Why?”

“Do you see the news? Not only is there destruction, but there’s also mobs. I don’t want you getting hurt walking by yourself.”

“But I do it every day, I can defend myself!” he reasoned. His father was acting as if the streets were too dangerous for him. As if Dotratia was too dangerous for him.

“Just until this all blows over, okay. I’m sure one of your brothers wouldn’t mind walking you there and back,” Phil looked over at the two twins sitting on the couch.

“Yea, Wilbur can have fun with that. I’m staying on this couch,” Techno blurted, a shit-eating grin on his face.

That fucker. That family restoring fucker.

“I can go with you,” Wilbur offered up shyly.

Tommy let out a long, exaggerated groan, but swooped around to grab his backpack. His entire family stood there and watched him, and as he turned around, none of them moved a single inch.

“What?” he raised his eyebrow, “Are you gonna come with me or not? I’m gonna be late.”

Wilbur nodded quickly and shot up from the couch, looking reminiscent of someone going to their first job interview. 

“Stay safe,” Phil called out as the two of them approached the door. Tommy rolled his eyes. This was stupid, nothing was going to happen to him on his way to school.

*****

The halls of the school were louder than usual. Which was odd, because it was seven o’clock in the morning, but maybe this is what happens when you get to school on time for once in your life.

His hands were shaking a lot too, but he decided to blame that on the crowds as well.

The last time he saw a crowd like this here, they were screaming, and running. And the lights were flickering, tables were flying, and exploding, and-

Maybe he had been standing at his locker for a little bit too long, because suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, and turned around to face the Smiley man - person that had stopped him in the hall. Instead of facing his worst fears, he came face to face with a tall, lanky fucker that he used to call his friend.

Ranboo stood behind him, looking down on him with a worried expression. Tommy shut his locker to look at him fully.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Tommy droned, “Just a big crowd s’all.”

“Oh- haha- yea, it is kinda busy in the morning,” Ranboo scratched the back of his neck. He looked around left and right, as if he didn’t know what to say. It hurt a little bit, seeing that one of his best friends lost the ability to even interact with him, “So, uh, how have you been?”

Tommy breathed in, and out, “I’ve been okay.”

Yea, that was a good enough answer. If losing your best friends, getting attacked at the circus, and having mobs form against the very thing you stand for constitutes as okay. Though it seems like Ranboo didn’t believe that, because he just frowned.

“I actually wanted to talk to you.”

“Yea?”

“Well- um- I think it would be cool- good, if the three of us hung out together after school?” the boy stuttered through the offer, but Tommy got the general idea.

“Why would you guys wanna hang out with me?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Because you're our friend! And we miss you,” Ranboo objected.

“Tubbo literally said that he did not want to be my friend,” Tommy crossed his arms.

“He was actually the one that wanted to apologize, I just offered up the plan.”

Tubbo is the type of person to be too stubborn to approach Tommy in person, but there was something still nagging at the back of his brain. It was the same nagging thing that caused him to lash out at his father, and his brother. . .and Tubbo. And before, he would follow it blindly, but that nagging had only caused shit for him. Maybe he should just ignore it.

Maybe, making up with his friends could be a good thing.

And if not, then he would at least have an excuse to yell at something.

“. . .Where were you thinking of hanging out?” he offered, grasping onto his backpack strap tighter and looking down to his shoes. One of his laces was untied, he would have to get to that. The edge was already drenched in mud and slush. Gross.

“We were thinking the diner. They were- um- they were having that special where you can win a free shirt if you eat that giant omelette thing.”

“Um, sure. I’ll be there,” he said lightly, his voice pitching up a couple of octaves. He bounced on the heels of his feet, finally looking up to his taller friend. Ranboo adopted a big, cheesy smile on his face and his eyes lit up.

“Oh! Cool! Cool- we’ll meet you back here then.”

“Yea. Cool,” and with that, Tommy bounded off in the direction of his first class.

All three of them shared the same first period, but that was besides the point.

*****

The first four periods went off relatively well. While there were no words from any of his friends or classmates, there was also no confrontation. Dare he say, he was actually in a good mood.

Which was why when he walked into fifth period, he had his guard utterly and perfectly down.

This was the only other class that he had with both Ranboo and Tubbo. They were already there, in their seats, talking to each other. They both glanced over to him for a second before returning.

Taking that as his cue, Tommy sauntered over to his desk and swung his bag down to the ground. The desk was cold. It wasn’t usually cold, the guy before this period always slept at this desk and warmed it up for him. But today it was cold, and If Tommy were to take heed of omens, this would be one shoved right into his face.

Tubbo glanced back at him from where he was sitting in the desk in front of him, Tommy couldn’t quite name the look on his face. But it didn’t matter, because the second they made eye contact, Tubbo shot back forward.

Tommy looked over to Ranboo, who, when they met eyes, gave him a little smile. Now, Tommy was not the type of guy to call his friend a try hard, but Ranboo was being a giant tryhard right now.

With both of his friends in check, Tommy scanned across the room. It was a habit he had his entire life. It developed around the time he had to start fighting for his life. Something about knowing and securing every square inch around him made him feel secure.

Their usual teacher was going to be out for a while. After the long awaited wait, she had finally had her baby over the weekend. Tommy didn’t know who the new sub was going to be, but he hoped that it would be that cool guy who never taught and just talked to the kids about biological conspiracy theories.

When he looked over to the desk, his heart stopped.

There, sitting at his English teacher’s desk, looking disinterested, was no one other than George.

Not Found .

His breath caught in his throat, and even though he thought he was being inconspicuous, Tubbo still turned around and looked at him funny. Tommy could swear that his eyes were bulging out of his head when their eyes met. The both of them, despite their momentary differences, held a wordless conversation.

Are you okay? Tubbo’s eyes, his slanted bite asked.

Tommy looked away, back to George.

George was looking right back at him. He arched an eyebrow, and smiled, just a little bit.

Tommy exhaled as if he was frozen in the icy tundra, and went to looking dead ahead. His heart was picking up; beating out of his chest as if it was a caged animal ready to be free. It was like when he had the panic attack in first period, except ten times worse.

“Alright,” George spoke up, his voice as lackadaisical, “Class, my name is Mr. C, I’ll be your substitute teacher until your old one comes back.”

Shit, fuck, god damn.

When is it his chance to be the winner?

“Since I don’t know any of your names, I’ll just go down the list and do attendance.”

Geroge went down the list of his classmates’ names, varied responses sounded afterward. All in all, it sounded like an average school setting, but in Tommy’s own head, it felt as if the world was ending. The very climax being-

-a small snicker, and-

“Tommyinnit?”

If only the world would end right here .

“Here,” Tommy grit out, playing into the stupid game George had created with his upper hand. If anybody looked at him oddly, confused by the nickname, then he wasn’t looking at them.

He stewed there for a while, hunched over impossibly far, until-

“Can I go to the bathroom,” he shouted out, with no warning beforehand. He slid back in the desk and looked over to the teacher. 

“I dunno, can you?”

Oh, come on-

Tommy exhaled, exaggerated like a child, “ May I go to the bathroom?”

“You may.”

All eyes were on Tommy as he stormed out of the classroom, backpack in hand. The bathroom was on the other end of the school, but that was perfectly fine with him. 

He needed to get as far away from that stupid classroom as possible. Screw this, he would have to make up with his friends another day.

Tommy pushed the door open with little care as he barged into the bathroom. It was empty, and all that could be heard was the click-clacks of his shoes. He shoved himself into one of the stalls and slammed the door shut. His movements were sloppy as he threw his backpack to the floor and snagged on the zipper, fumbling for his mask.

A knock on the door stops him in his tracks.

Slowly, Tommy closed his backpack, turned around, and opened the door.

Sapnap and Dream were on the other end, leaning against one of the sinks. There was something in Sapnap’s hand, small and metal. But before Tommy could make out what it was-

An explosion sounded through the east end of the high school, and everything went black.

.

.

.

Something was crushing Tommy’s legs. Not to the point of pain or breaking, but a massive discomfort swelled throughout his entire body. He felt trapped, clamped in, like a mouse in a trap. 

His nose burned with something dusty up in his sinuses, it burned his eyes as well and he hadn’t even opened them yet. But that wasn’t the only thing he noticed.

His hands, they burned . The pain was so striking that it felt as if his hands had fallen off of his own body, as if the skin was inflamed and falling off. Was this how Techno felt when they were hit by that firework?

It was uncomfortably silent, all he could hear was his breathing; heaving. Where even was he?

Tommy peeled his eyes open, but found nothing.

There was black all around him, he couldn’t even see his burning hands in front of his face. There was one stream of light that dripped down in front of him, a foot or two away. Something indicating that there was a crack in the ceiling.

He was trapped.

He was crushed underneath the rubble.

He- he had to get out. He had to get out. He needed help .

But. . .Tommy was the superhero. He was the one that was supposed to do the saving. He had to save himself.

(But he wanted his father- oh god, he just wanted to be home with his father, and- hell- his brothers on the couch, watching some stupid movie-)

He pushed against the ground as hard as he could, trying to lift the rubble up off of himself, but the struggle barely did anything. He grunted, and tried again, but to no avail.

He tried one last time, with everything in him, to lift the rubble off of his legs, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough. 

His hands hurt, so bad.

And so, hot tears rushed out down his face and he cried, “Help! Somebody, please help me!” he hiccuped, “Please! I need help!”

He was just a kid. He didn’t want to die down here.

He never wanted this. He never wanted these stupid fucking powers in the first place! They couldn’t even save him.

Tommy called out more, but no one could hear him.

The black around him somehow got darker, and with one last exhale, Tommy closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Tubbo was born in December 2004.

Four months later, he made his first best friend.

Tubbo was there for Tommy’s birth. He doesn’t remember it, of course, he was a baby. But he was told that he was there.

And Tubbo thinks that maybe. Just maybe, he couldn’t have asked for a better friend.

Tommy’s home life was miserable, but so was Tubbo’s, and they had each other in that way.

Neither of them had a mother. Wherein Tommy’s family cared too much about it, Tubbo’s didn’t care enough. And even though Tubbo doesn’t remember it, just like he didn’t remember Tommy’s birth. Tubbo had met Tommy’s mother. And Tommy had not.

They didn’t need their mothers, they had each other anyway.

He laid in the stuffy bed, with paper like blankets wrapped around his bandaged, washed up body. Oh, what a world, to describe your body as washed up at the age of seven. 

There was a poster on the ceiling of his private little hospital room. Like the ones you would see at the dentist. It was portrayed from a downward angle, and acted as if you were laying on the ground of a field somewhere, gazing up at the spring sky. Tubbo had never left the city before, so something about it enamored him. The clouds, the butterflies and the leaves. There was just something about the sky that felt way less stained than it did in the city.

Tubbo felt like he was on top of the world, when that firework hit him.

For one, breathless, second, he didn’t feel a thing, and all he saw was color. He could have sworn that that’s what it felt like to die. Something painless, and larger than life. And when he laid there, it felt as if arms were taking him away. He thought about the last thing he ever said. He couldn’t quite remember, but in that moment, he decided on-

“One last time!”

-which felt right, poetic. Tubbo died wanting more. He would die never being satisfied.

But then, he felt more arms grab onto him, and yank his body from the others. And when he opened his eyes, he saw pink. The pink was draped over a teenage boy’s shoulder all limp. And he couldn’t quite hear over the ringing, but he could see Techno crying, hunched over himself, grabbing at his own hand and-

Oh god.

And then Tubbo was looking up at the poster.

He exhaled, and it sounded rusty.

“Are you okay? Do you need water? A nurse?” Tommy asked from the side of the bed. He was sitting in a chair, resting his head on the mattress and holding his right hand as light as possible. Though, at the sound of any distress, the boy’s head shot up.

“I’m okay,” he reassured. He couldn’t really move his head, or any of his body, so he remained looking up at the poster.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tubbo said for maybe the twentieth time that night.

“But you’re hurt!”

“You didn’t set off the firework.”

“But I hid away! I was all safe and let you guys get hurt,” Tommy sniffed. None of this should have been happening. They were both little kids, that, Tubbo could understand. He should be able to walk around on both of his feet.

“It’s not your fault.”

Two hours after that- six hours after the incident- Phil would arrive at the hospital to take Technoblade home.

On the first day of Sophomore year, Tubbo’s mama died.

It didn’t feel as official as it should have been.

He was sitting in his English class, when he came across a Facebook message from one of his distant aunts saying that she had passed away and the details of the funeral service.

By the time he had read the message, the funeral had already passed by four days. 

He didn’t know how to feel. He had never actually met his mother before, mourning her would be like mourning a stranger. But there was still something dour there.

Was he mourning the fact that she was a stranger?

In between periods that day, he walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He was Tubbo, and his mother was dead. And he was. . .confused about it.

He never told Tommy about it. He didn’t tell Ranboo about it either. Up to the point where it would just be too late to.

Tubbo and Tommy were laying on his bed, the same bed that had been in the same bedroom that Tubbo had for his entire life. There was a crack in his ceiling, it had only gotten bigger as the years had passed.

They were listening to a new record that Tommy had found from a box of his mother’s old belongings. It was an old song, something with swing and twang, a man with a raspy voice sung about love and soul.

Tubbo distracted himself by thinking about the woman that the guy was singing about. What she looked like, what she acted like. Who that woman could possibly be to get that man so in love with her.

He wondered why Tommy’s mother liked this song so much? What made it special to her? Did she put it on in the kitchen and dance to it with Phil? Tubbo could see her doing that.

Tubbo laid on his back, with his hands resting underneath his head. Tommy was next to him, on his side, resting his golden locks on Tubbo’s pillow.

And then Tubbo thought about his mother.

“Do you know what it’s like to die?”

Tommy sniffed, and shifted around a little.

“No.”

Tubbo doesn’t even know how his mother died.

“I think it was nice. The dying part, I mean. Not the getting injured part.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Because that was fucking scary!”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Tubbo insisted, “It was like, ten years ago.”

“It was still the worst moment of my life! Do you know what it’s like to think your best friend is dead? To- to have this thing happen, and everything’s so overwhelming, and you don’t know if they’ll make it to tomorrow.”

He didn’t. And really, Tubbo couldn’t imagine what it would be like if he were on the other end.

“You’re right. You’re right.”

During the summer before senior year, Tubbo had decided to clean his bedroom.

It was going well, all things considered. He hadn’t tidied up the place in a long, long time. He was a couple hours in, clothes folded, papers trashed, floor swept, when a tap on his shoulder startled him out of the blue.

He turned around to see his father across from him, looking at him with a deep sense of confusion. The man was speaking to him, but it sounded as if he was speaking underwater. Fuzzy and warm, and the parts that did bubble up sounded as if they popped and shot through his ears?

“-kid?- calling— minutes— you— ignoring me?”

. . .

“What?”

And by the time senior year started up, Tubbo had copped himself a nice pair of hearing aides. The doctors said that it was unchecked trauma from the tinnitus he got from the explosion.

The things were uncomfortable, and they made his ears sore. And quite frankly, he was miserable with the things.

Ranboo said that they were a ‘unique touch’. But the guy was a suck up anyway.

He never told Tommy about the hearing aides. If there was one constant in the ten years since that accident, it was that Tommy was drowning in guilt ever since. He couldn’t tell Tommy, he couldn’t break his friend like that.

At some point throughout senior year, Tommy had gotten. . .bitter. Sure, the kid had been moody before, but now he was explosive, and, eloquently put, struggling.

So when he got the texts-

Tommy: Tubbo 

Tommy: Tubbo u busy?

Tommy: look man I really need you right now

Tommy: something happened at home, can I come over?

-he ignored it.

He knows that it was bad, and he still felt guilty about it, but Tubbo just needed the morning to himself. If Tommy wanted to be at his house, he shouldn’t have snuck out in the middle of the night.

Later, Tubbo would find out that Tommy’s long lost brothers had returned home out of nowhere.

If there was one thing that Tommy and Tubbo had in common, it was that they were both determined, and both refused to stand down. 

It was the night of their fight when Tubbo decided to visit his mother for the first time in his entire life. It was quite a ways away, he had to take a couple of subway trains and buses to get there.

The cemetery was just outside of the city, on a nice grassy plane where nothing of the outside world could touch it. It was weird to think that his mother was this close the entire time.

Something about that makes him hate her.

He walked up to the grave, it was something small and private. It was there where he found out that he didn’t share the same last name as his mother.

The air was cold, yet the wind was light.

“Hey,” he started, “I’m a superhero now. Well, not a superhero, but I’m helping one. I’m like, the guy in the chair.”

He brushed his hand through his hair and sniffled just a little. Now, of course, it had been a long time, and his memory was a little fuzzy, but looking up, this place kinda looked like the place on that poster.

“I guess I’m a lot of things. You missed a lot. If I'm being honest, if you were to look me in the face, you probably wouldn’t even know who I was,” the grave had looked untouched, as if no one had visited it in a long time. It made Tubbo wonder about the life his mother had led. Was she loved? Was she hated? Envied? Did she ever get a new family?

“Did you ever think about me? Did you ever worry? I mean, I don’t know if I would care. I didn’t really think about you much.”

“I got into a fight with my best friend today. Like a bad one. And in the moment, I was like ‘he’s being such a bitch!’ but now that I’ve cooled down, I kinda feel like an asshole. I don’t want to lose him like I lost you. Cause no offense, I love him a lot more than I love you.”

He kicked some of the dirt from underneath his shoe, “I kinda hate you.”

There was a ringing in his pocket, a notification of sorts. Deciding that he was done with the one sided conversation, he sorted through his coat pockets and retrieved the thing. It was not a call that drew his attention, but a notification from one of his camera sites. Something he installed that connected to the camera’s on Dotratia’s mask. 

His exhale reacted with the cold air and puffed out steam as he pressed onto the site. A camera feed pulled up and he got a perfect view of Dotratia’s whereabouts in his hand. It looked as if the superhero was in the middle of a fight, If not the end.

Did Dotratia not call him? Did Tubbo miss it while he was on the subway? He couldn’t really hear any audio either, the earpiece must have broken or flown off in the middle of the fight. Luckily, Tubbo was resourceful, and redirected the sound to his usual hearing aides.

And things continued on from there.

A couple of weeks went by without communication with Tommy. It was the longest the two of them spent apart. 

They still had a handful of their classes together, but it was as if they were ghosts to each other. But Tubbo just couldn’t find a way to talk to him. Not until he figured out his shit at least.

It was the first week of December when Ranboo decided that it was time for that to stop.

“We should invite Tommy to hang out with us tonight,” the taller boy said absentmindedly.

Tubbo paused, “Why?”

“What do you mean, why? Because I miss him, and you clearly miss him. How long are the two of you gonna give each other the silent treatment?”

“We aren’t giving each other the silent treatment , we’re just- doing our own things right now,” Tubbo scratched the back of his neck.

“You won’t even look at him,” Ranboo butt in, “He just- he’s looked so miserable lately. I think he needs us right now.”

Tubbo frowned, but didn’t object, and by the time he made it to fifth period, the plans were set. His mind was occupied with thoughts about what he would even say. Would he apologize? How? It was as if he could not even form the words on his tongue. It was as if he could not even look his best friend in the face.

Stealing a look at Tommy, the kid looked as if he was in a horror movie; scared out of my mind. He was pale, and his eyes were dilated, and he was looking pointedly at one spot in the room. The substitute teacher.

It looked like just some normal guy, if Tubbo were being honest. Maybe in his twenties, with brown hair and dressed down attire. He was looking down at the desk with light disinterest. He didn’t look like anything terrifying. Hell, Tubbo could probably beat him up.

There was no lesson plan for that day. The new teacher kinda just left them to their own devices, assuming that they had homework or something to do.

“Do you think he’s just gonna let us fuck around every day? That would be nice, would really put him up there on the substitute teacher list,” Ranboo leaned over to him. Of course, the guy didn’t have any work he needed to make up, he was always on top of everything.

“I hope not, we kinda came here to learn,” Ranboo frowned.

“You’re literally the most boring person I’ve ever met.”

Ranboo ignored that and looked behind him, “Do you think Tommy’s alright? He kinda just ran off.”

Tubbo frowned and looked at the now empty desk, “I’m sure he’s fine,” he picked at his nails, them cracking underneath the pressure and falling away like rust. It was gross, yet fascinating what nerve damage did to his hands, “Did you hear about the whole Dotratia thing?” he would much rather talk about something else.

“A recent fight, or all of the riots that made my walk here ten minutes longer?”

“Hmm, both.”

“Yes, Tubbo, yes.”

“I can’t believe that the Smiley Man just- attacked that circus. Like, where did it even come from?” he leaned back in his desk, “Both you and Tommy were there, right? That must have been scary.”

“Oh yea,” Ranboo squinted and frowned, “It was, I guess.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m not thinking about anything.”

“Yea you are, Boo, I can see it on your face.”

Ranboo sighed, “I dunno, I just think things are so black and white right now.”

“What does that mean?”

“At the- at the circus, I was in the bleachers. I was trying to get away, in the chaos of everything, when one of the support beams nearly fell on me,” Tubbo perked up at that news. He had not heard about that, even with his extensive research about the event on the train ride back home from the cemetery. It was. . . well, he didn’t know how to describe the feeling of knowing that your friend’s life was in danger, and you weren’t there to help.

“At that point, Dotratia wasn’t there yet. And I- like- really thought that was the end for me. But the Smiley Man, he saved me . He pushed me out of the way and asked if I was alright. He saved my life.”

That was- oh.

“He’s attacked people, Ranboo. Probably killed them too.”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Ranboo looked off to the side, “Look, all I’m saying is that it seemed like he was genuinely worried for me. What if we’re misunderstanding him?”

“He’s a bad guy, Ranboo.”

“Why does there have to be good guys and bad guys? Why do- why do we have to pick a side? We’re all people.”

Tubbo sighed. Ranboo just didn’t understand. He didn’t see what Tubbo saw through those first person cameras. He didn’t know how hard he and Dotratia worked to keep the city safe from those who abused their powers.

And Ranboo didn’t need to know. Neither of his friends did. This was all to keep them safe.

“Whatever, can you help me with this worksheet-”

Tubbo was cut off by a rumble, something that shook the very classroom like a washing machine. The pencil that was resting in the crook of his desk bounced and flew off of his desk. And then came the loud, piercing noise that sounded as if something was exploding, and then collapsing in on itself.

Everyone in the classroom stilled, some students already shooting down to hide underneath their desks. Ranboo looked at him dead in the eyes, fear grappling him. For a second, everything was quiet.

That was- that was- oh god - that was an explosion. Though it had stopped, the noise still rung through his ears, and-

‘One last time!’

Techno smirked a little, and steadied the last firework rocket. Holding a match up to the end and watching the thing spark up.

-”Tubbo!” Ranboo was holding on to his arm, and suddenly the entire class was up on their feet. The teacher was at the door, opening it up. He looked calmer than everyone else, Tubbo wondered how he could be so in a time like this.

Fire alarms were blaring through the overhead speakers, someone breaking apart the cries every now and then to inform them that it was not a drill. 

Tubbo blinked and they were in the hall, walking speedily in a group towards the nearest exit. Ranboo was holding Tubbo’s hand tightly, quiet as he looked dead ahead. Red lights were flashing across the hall.

For just a moment, Tubbo looked back, behind himself. He caught only a glimpse of billowing smoke at the very end before Ranboo turned him back around and they were escaping out the door.

It was cold out, the December air had a bite to it. Half of the school’s population was crowded out on the sidewalk, the other half of the school being on the other side of the building. They all huddled near their teacher, who looked almost bored as he checked through the attendance list. He smiled a little as his eyes scanned over something, but it was gone as soon as it arrived.

Tubbo shivered, and Ranboo wrapped his arms around him, the ruckus around them of scared and mumbling students, along with the fast approaching emergency vehicles was overwhelming.

Said vehicles added another layer of flashing that overwhelmed his eyes as firemen ran into the building.

Mr. Sam and his class had gathered right next to Tubbo’s. The shop teacher looked worried out of his mind as his eyes darted all over the place. Tubbo thought about the Nook robot huddled in his classroom, silently hoping that it hadn’t been destroyed in the explosion.

That’s what that was, right? An explosion. Was it an attack? From who? A student? Stranger? As Tubbo’s mind swirled, Mr. Sam walked up to them.

“Are you two alright?” he asked, worried eyes scanning him and Ranboo.

“We’re fine,” Ranboo assured, “Do you know what’s happening?”

“As a teacher, I’m not supposed to spread rumors. But I heard that a bomb went off in the second floor bathroom.”

“Oh my,” Ranboo gasped.

Tubbo’s heart stopped.

“Tommy’s in there,” his voice was breathy quiet, and yet it sounded like the loudest shout in the world as Ranboo and Mr. Sam stopped dead in their tracks to look at him, “Oh my fucking god, Tommy’s in there .” 

Ranboo held on to him tighter.

“Calm down, I’m sure he’s just with another group. Everything’s all mixed up in the evacuation,” Mr. Sam tried to placate, but the man looked equally as terrified, if not more.

“He was- he- he said he was going to that bathroom. He was in there ,” Tubbo repeated. It was getting really cold outside, and the crowds were only getting louder as pedestrians and parents started arriving at the scene.

And then an ambulance rolled in, flashing and screaming. The men ran in with a stretcher in tow. It only made Tubbo worry more. People were hurt. If it was not Tommy, then someone was. A thought sparked, and he whipped out his phone.

Tubbo: Dad the shcool was bombed

Tubbo: please come pick me uo  i wanna go home

He ignored his phone as it started to blow up with notifications, vibrating violently. The EMT’s flooded back out of the building, the stretcher now inhabited. 

And Tubbo’s worst fears were realized.

In that stretcher was Tommy, unconscious and dirty. His neck was in a brace and one of the workers was holding an oxygen mask up to his face. He could see just a bit of his arms, which were littered in ugly looking burns. He looked so. . .limp.

Nothing around him registered after that. The world was now just him and Tommy, even after the other was loaded into an ambulance and rushed away. If Ranboo tightened his grip on him even more, pulling him into a hug, if Mr. Sam was talking, if kids broke out into exclamations, Tubbo didn’t notice.

Do you know what it’s like to think your best friend is dead? To have this thing happen, and everything’s so overwhelming, and you don’t know if they’ll make it to tomorrow?

It was the first week of December, when Tubbo’s world felt as if it was ending.

Chapter Text

Tommy woke up like one would imagine striking a match against the side of the box. A quick strike and then everything fading in from there. The spike of sound being a beep from somewhere to his left.

And then he heard breathing and miscellaneous shuffling, something drawling on a television or a radio. Remaining in this suspended space he found himself in, Tommy zeroed in on the sound, and tried to decipher the words.

“Investigators are still trying to figure out the cause of the explosion and the suspect responsible. Every student has been evacuated off of the campus and as of now, three have been reported injured on the scene.”

His mind didn’t put the pieces together of what he was hearing, it was as if they were just filtering through his brain.

“In a surprising turn of events, the Smiley Man and the Arsonist arrived at the scene, helping first responders-”

Tommy- with his eyes closed- squinted and tried prying his lids open. The lights around him were overwhelming for just a moment before mellowing out, and he had the opportunity to assess the area around him.

He was. . .in a hospital room?

The walls-everything was clean and muted, and a medicinal smell danced across everything. Machines were next to him, beeping a tell to something, wires connected him to them. He could feel something clamped onto his pointer finger, but the rest of his hands were wrapped snugly in bandages and gauze.

His hands could barely be qualified as hands anymore with how they were mummified, but they didn’t hurt anymore. If anything, they were just numb. Stacks of thin, scratchy blankets were bunched up to his armpits. There was an IV stuck in the crevice of his arm, leaving a light pinching sensation as it led off to some bag somewhere.

Finally, he looked up to see his family sitting all around him. They were all looking at the television, Wilbur was to the left, fidgeting in one of the chairs, Phil in a chair as well, the one closer to the bed. Techno was to the right, Tommy’s backpack held tightly in his lap.

Tommy knew what was in that bag, so did Techno.

“Papa?” he groaned quietly, and suddenly all eyes were on him.

“Tommy!” his father breathed, and he was out of his chair in no time. Arms were wrapped around his head and shoulders. Taking a moment to realize that he was engulfed in a bone crushing, yet gentle hug, Tommy slowly lifted his bandaged arms up and wrapped them around his father, “You’re okay. You’re okay,” Tommy was unsure whether Phil was saying that for him, or for himself.

Everyone in the room looked shaken up, even Techno, beside his lackadaisical facade.

“What happened?” he croaked. All he could remember was was the bathroom, and the heat, and then the darkness, and the crushing, and the burning-

“The school was bombed,” Wilbur informed, placing a hand on Tommy’s knee. His voice was gentle, and it made Tommy feel like he was a kid again, “You were in the bathroom- fuck, Tommy we were so scared.”

He hummed as his eyes trailed back over to the television broadcasting live footage. He didn’t get too far though, as Techno grabbed onto the remote and lowered the volume all the way to zero. With all of their mouths now mutely moving, he could almost pretend like they were talking about something normal. Something that’s not about borderline terrosim on a bunch of children.

“Is everyone okay?” his voice was weak, and he couldn’t quite understand why. The only thing that ever so slightly hurt was his numbed hands, so why did his body feel so groggy?

“Yea, there were a couple of other kids with burns or concussions. But there was nothing major- God- Tommy, they said you were trapped under the rubble,” Wilbur breathed, “There’s severe burns on your hands. And maybe some dust inhalation. But other than that you got lucky.”

“Hey, we’re matching now,” Techno jumped in. Tommy looked down to his long scarred hands, missing fingers to match.

Phil, who was silently hugging him close the entire time, finally drew back, tears in his eyes. He held onto Tommy’s face and looked at him like he might disappear before kissing his forehead once, and then over and over again like his elderly aunt would.

“Hey Dad,” he smiled quietly.

“Hey,” he smiled back, “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

“I’m okay, just. . .funny.”

“Yea, hospital drugs’ll do that to you.”

“I am a little hungry,” he admitted, confused whether the feeling in his stomach was hunger or numbness.

“We can get you something,” Phil perked up.

“Will, Phil, go get all of us something from the cafeteria,” Techno ordered from the corner.

“What? Why us?” Wilbur whined.

“Because you both have money on you, and Tommy hates my taste in food.”

“I hate your taste in food because it’s all meat!” Tommy jumped in.

“Yup.” Was all Techno said.

“Alright, we can head down to the food court,” Phil stood up and walked over to Wilbur near the door, “Just, call the nurse if you need anything. Okay?”

“Okay, Dad.”

“You can’t make that joke. I literally am your father.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me a cookie or something,” back when he was younger at the hospital, he would always get the same cookie. It wasn’t the greatest, and it kind of tastes like cardboard, but it was comforting, and it was constant. Secretly he hopes that they still have the same brand,

With his father and his brother exiting the room, Tommy was left alone with Techno. Him and the still muted news broadcast on the fuzzy hospital television. He looked back over to the thing, and nothing much had changed.

“They did this all on purpose, y’know,” Techno blurted, looking at the television as well.

“What?” he blinked, “Of course they did it on purpose, I saw them with the bombs.”

“No like- this,” Techno gestured to the general area of the room around them, “Was all part of their plan. Blow up a school, injuring you in the process. With Dotratia out of the picture, that- cute little supervillain group- had free reign to swoop in and save the day. They’re swaying public opinion.”

Tommy’s eyes widened, realization dawning upon him, “And with Dotratia not there, it’s gonna make me look-”

“Careless, absent, hater of kids, a bad superhero,” Techno listed, “Yea. These guys are playing mind games now.”

“Shit.”

“Yea, I’d say so.”

“So,” he shuffled up so he was sitting up a little more, even though his body still felt funny, “What do we do?”

“I’m thinking on that one,” Techno pondered, “I don’t think they were even intending to hurt you?”

“W-what?” Tommy was beginning to sound like a broken record.

“Kid, you should not have been able to survive bombs like that. Even if you’re all magical. I think they were purposely weakened.”

“So this is all for the media.”

“If the anti-Dotratia riots are anything to go by, then yes.”

Tommy turned away to look at the other wall across from him. What game were they trying to play at? The three supervillains weren’t even that active, and when they were, they weren’t even doing that much damage. It was all for show.

Like a dramatic play. He thought bitterly to himself.

If everything they were doing on the surface level was fake, then what were they truly trying to accomplish? What were the finer details? The creature dwelling just beneath the shallow surface?

A knock on the door disrupted his inner turmoil. Techno hummed knowingly.

“Who is it?” he asked his brother.

“Either those two are back with the food, or the nurses finally let your two little friends through.”

“Oh,” he reacted.

“Do you want me to like, kick them out?”

“No, no they can come in.”

“I leave and let you guys catch up then,” the pinkette proceeded to stand up from his plastic chair and walk over to the doorway.

“Don’t get lost,” Tommy joked, before the door swung open, and his brother was gone. There was a solid moment of silence before more movement ensued.

The door to his room flew open almost instantly, on the other side was none other than Ranboo and Tubbo, his two longest friends. They were supposed to spend time together after-school, in attempts to rekindle their broken relationship, but it seems as if those were blown off. He almost felt bad, but they were all here now. Maybe the hospital wasn't the best setting, but that didn't look like it was about to stop the two of them.

"Hey-"

"Are you okay?!" Tubbo cut him off, bursting through the room and stopping right next to the bed, in the exact spot that Techno was sitting before.

"Uh yea- that. We got you a 'get well soon' gift!" Ranboo tacked on, proudly holding up a small stuffed animal. As per hospital gift shop standards, it looked cheap and velvety. It also looked. . .raggedy. It was an understuffed, pink little pig. One of the button eyes had fallen out. Tommy wouldn't be surprised if the two of them had found laying in the very back of the shelves somewhere.

Along with the pig, there was a small bouquet of flowers, purple and dotty. They looked to be alliums..

"Oh- yea, I'm fine- and thank you," he held his hands out for the gifts. The pig was graciously handed to him, while the flowers went to the windowsill.

“What happened?” Tubbo asked urgently.

“What do you mean? I was bombed.”

“I know that, but who did it?”

He paused. Though Tubbo didn’t know George’s identity as Not Found- Tommy had never gotten the chance to tell him- he did know about Dream and Sapnap. He could tell the boy, under the impression that he was still a naive, unknowing highschooler.

He saw the look in Tubbo’s eyes, his downturned lips. The boy wanted justice. He could tell Tubbo, and Tubbo would surely tell Dotratia, and that would be that, but-

Then he looked over to Ranboo. Kind, innocent Ranboo, who loved his cousin so much. He couldn’t just sit here and tell him that his own cousin bombed a school, whether he was a supervillain or not.

Hell, he might not even believe him.

So, Tommy replied with- 

“I don’t know. I didn’t see anything.”

Neither of his friends seemed to like that answer, but didn’t pry for more.

“The police- everyone- they think that it’s a suicide bombing. And Techno refusing to give up your backpack is not helping,” Tubbo revealed, and Tommy’s heart dropped.

“What? No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that!” he objected, trying to sit up, but his hands hurt too much to support his frame.

“We believe you,” It didn’t sound like it, “Trust me, I have my own ideas of who it could have been.”

Tommy had never heard Tubbo sound so. . .bitter, not even after he almost lost his own life in the rocket incident. Tommy could tell that the two of them were on the same track by who bombed the school. And just like Tommy, Tubbo didn’t want to talk about it with Ranboo in the room.

“Well I mean, it’s okay. No one’s really hurt. If anything, people just got scared,” Tommy tried to reason.

“Scared? Tommy, I thought you died!” Tubbo stressed, bringing his hands up and knotting them through his hair, “I thought you died and the last thing we would have ever said to each other was an argument!”

Oh, that’s what this was about.

For a brief moment, flashing imaging coursed through the back of his eyes. Sights of him in Tubbo’s place, fear wracking his body. Fear that his best friend would explode away and leave him all alone.

He sighed. Maybe Tommy just wanted his friend back.

“Tubbo, I’m sorry for blowing up at you,” he apologized lowly.

“Tommy, what-”

“I was mad, and stressed, and I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. It’s not your fault I can’t get my shit figured out.”

“Tommy stop,” Tubbo cut in, “I should be the one to apologize. I hid things from you, and I saw that you were going through something, and I neglected that.”

“But I don’t need to force all of my problems onto you-”

“And I don’t need to ditch you the second things get too challenging-”

“And I-”

“Alright,” Ranboo stepped in from where Tommy forgot he was standing in the corner of the room, “You both mess up. You’re both sorry. I’m sorry too.”

“What?” Tommy and Tubbo exclaimed at the same time, Tommy took over to finish off, “Why would you need to apologize?”

“Because I let this all happen-”

“Oh shut up. Let’s just watch a movie or some shit,” Tommy groaned, exasperated. Afterward, he scooched over in the bed more, making room for his friends to squeeze in. It took a lot of struggling and complaining underneath breaths, but eventually the three of them found themselves in a comfortable pile on the hospital bed. Tubbo slipped out his phone and scrolled through his apps until he came across an interesting movie that he pirated at some point. The shot would zoom in and out every couple of seconds. But maybe that made it more interesting.

                        *****

None of the food in the hospital cafeteria looked particularly interesting, everything looked almost dull.

Wilbur never liked hospitals. The lighting, the nauseating smell, the beeping left and right. He hated it all. 

He also hated the way it made him feel so afraid. Every time his heart skipped a beat, every time he let out a cough, every time his hands shook just a little, he felt as if he needed a one way ticket to the nearest hospital.

It was funny, really. To be so afraid of something, and yet to feel as if you needed that something so much.

The first time he was in the hospital, it wasn’t for his own mean or injury, it was for his mother’s, and the birth of his little brother, Tommy. It was supposed to be a happy day. A day full of cheer, and anticipation, and hopeful anxieties.

Tommy’s birth took six hours. In that time, he had spent it all in the waiting room with his brother. At the time, Techno was enraptured with a book. Something thick and wordy, he could still remember his brother’s eyes darting around, flicking over every word that it had to offer.

The two were totally unaware of what was going on inside of the room. They caught wind of ‘something going wrong’ and ‘Arrhythmia’’ but they were young, and didn’t know better. Of course! Those words had to be about someone else!

Even at the time, something about hospitals had made Wilbur uncomfortable. Maybe it was the color of the walls, maybe it was the fact that it never sleeps, the reflective floors, the masked people.

All that a young Wilbur knew was that at one point, Wilbur sat down in an uncomfortable cushioned chair, and six hours later, Wilbur didn’t have a mother anymore.

(He wouldn’t know this at the time, but he wouldn’t have a father anymore either.)

Six hours after he had sat down in that chair, his father had walked up to them with his eyes and cheeks red, and his hands shaking, and somehow, Wilbur knew what was happening before any words were uttered.

The only other time Wilbur had seen his father like that, was when they were all in the living room on an unsuspecting day. Wilbur had gotten home from walking his little brother to school, they didn’t really talk on that walk, but that was alright, because at least he was safe.

Wilbur himself was draped over the couch, watching mindless television, Techno joining him, and Phil was cooking up something in the kitchen, when the home phone started ringing from where it hid in the corner behind the microwave.

The older man had picked it up unsuspectingly, talking with the person on the other end of the line. And everything was normal.

Until his face dropped.

Questions were asked and answered so quickly that Wilbur couldn’t even hear half of them, but by the time the phone was slammed back down onto the charging port, Phil was rushing over to the coat rack.

‘What’s happening?’ he had asked, standing up as well. And even though he hated the man, he still found himself worrying.

That feeling increased tenfold when Phil turned around- tears flooding his eyes- looked him dead on and told him that-

‘Tommy’s in the hospital.’

. . . 

A school bombing. There was a school bombing at Tommy’s own school. Wilbur had gone to that school, Techno two before he graduated early. That school was bombed and Tommy was caught in the crossfire.

And Wilbur had brought him there. Wilbur had walked him there. It was stupid, of course, to blame himself for his brother getting hurt. Wilbur wasn’t the one with the bomb. But Wilbur brought him to that spot of danger. And then, Wilbur was sitting in an uncomfortable hospital waiting chair.

He doesn’t really know what happened after that, but now he was staring down at some shitty hospital salad that looked like it tasted watery.

“Do you want a slice of pizza or something? Those don’t look too bad,” Phil offered, looking over at the pizzas spinning around in their little box thing. He could see the grease pooling in the pepperonis.

It looked pretty bad.

“Uh,” he scanned around the foods again, struggling to pinpoint something that looked even remotely edible. He landed on a plastic wrapped turkey sandwich, and plucked it from its resting spot, “I’ll just take this.”

“Okay,” Phil nodded, “There are some desserts and stuff over there if you want to grab something too. I need to get a cookie for Tom. He always gets the peanut butter one when he comes here.”

A similar and continuous feeling churned in Wilbur’s stomach. Some creature that made its home in Wilbur’s psyche the second he stepped foot back home. It’s jealousy, he thinks. Jealousy that Tommy loves his father so much. That the two can just- know so much about each other.

That should be Wilbur. Not Phil.

(A deep part of him whispered that maybe, maybe he was jealous that Tommy got a loving father and he didn’t. But if that was true, then the world would never know.)

Maybe Wilbur replied to Phil’s question, maybe he didn’t. All he knew was that his hands were searching through his pocket, and he announced, “I’m gonna have a smoke,” and then, he was walking out of the hospital.

It was cold when he made it outside. Of course it was, steady snowflakes were dancing down from the sky. He didn’t even need the smoke in his mouth to see puffs of dragon like air blowing out of his mouth. He looked around for a second before searching for a lighter. In that search, he saw a poster for the very school that was the subject of the news- and his visit to this stupid hospital.

It was an advertisement for the winter play that would be happening soon. He wondered if it would still continue after all of this. He hoped that it would, Tommy seemed pretty excited about it.

Wilbur didn’t smoke often. He was a singer, and he needed to keep his lungs strong. But he was Wilbur first, and sometimes he needed something to help him survive his brain. It didn’t feel good, inhaling that spiking flavor, but the exhale was everything that he was looking for.

Everything felt so much different now. And a part of him was afraid that it was for the better.

Because if it was for the better, that meant that Wilbur was not involved in it.

“Hey,” someone greeted quietly from behind him. Looking over his shoulder, it was Phil, “I didn’t know that you smoked.”

“I don’t,” he took in another drag.

The area was delved back into silence once again. Or, as silent as you could get in the city. If there was one thing he missed about this place, it was the white noise. It made everything feel less lonely.

“I missed you,” Phil blurted, “Both you and Techno.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re my kids. And you’re you. I miss. . .the time we never had.”

Wilbur sniffed, the cold air lacing the inside of his nose and congesting it, “You,” he holds the word, thinking on it, considering what he was about to utter next, “You really fucked us up. You really fucked everything up.

“I know,” the man sounded guilty, “I know, and I’ve worked hard to change for the better.”

“And why the fuck does that matter? We were already gone. Did it take your kids hating you and leaving you to realize that you were a neglectful piece of shit? That’s selfish.”

“I was grieving, Will, and I was upset all the time. But that’s not an excuse,” Phil took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair just like Tommy does, “I guess, I was so busy trying to make it up to Tommy, that I forgot I hurt you two as well.”

Wilbur exhaled. This was everything he wanted, wasn’t it? Not quite an apology, but a coming to. But he had spent so much of his adult life thinking that that would never happen, that he had never prepared for the aftermath.

What now? He felt so sure in his feelings. He felt like a brick wall held together with tar, built up by his father and then smashed down by the very same man.

Something hot rolled down his cheek. 

“I really fucking hated you,” hated, “I hate that you fucking got better because it makes me look like some insane person that can’t get his head out of the past! You make me feel insane, Phil!”

“How can I make it better?”

“W-what?”

“How can I make this all better?”

“You yourself can’t fix everything, Phil.”

“I’m starting to realise that,” Phil replied somberly, looking over to the entrance of the hospital.

They were delved back into silence for a while. It hadn’t quite set in that Tommy could have died today. Then where would they be? The truth is, even if all of the older Watsons hated each other, they all loved Tommy, and they all wronged him.

Phil hurt Tommy too, didn’t he. A poor, young infant like him needed a father and Phil was never there.

But he loved him now. He had forgiven Phil. Wilbur looked at them and he saw the son-father relationship that he had dreamed of every night after he had tucked his little brother in. If Tommy could forgive him, then who said that the twins couldn’t?

Wilbur was an adult now, he didn’t need a father, but-

“I just want a dad,” he blurted in a moment of weakness. Phil looked at him with something yearning, mourning, something ready for change.

“I can be your dad,” Phil said determinedly, “I can do it this time.”

Then, there was warmth all around him. Wilbur didn’t quite know who initiated the hug, but here they were, crying into each other’s shoulders at the entrance of the local emergency room.

In his father’s arms, he had no clue what he was doing. Much like many other instances in his life, he was treading new ground. He was excited, he was scared. And deep down, he knew it wouldn’t be perfect, and it wouldn’t be quick. But maybe-

Maybe one day, a Wilbur from eight years ago would look upon the world he’s creating now, and laugh it off as nothing but an unreachable dream.

Chapter Text

Tommy sat on the edge of his unmade bed staring out of the nearby window. It was close to night now, and heavy snow danced down from the sky. The entire atmosphere was more blue than usual. It felt lonely in a way. Lonely in a sense that he was Scrooge, all alone in his dark home with nothing but a candle.

Though, he doubts that his father would let him anywhere near a candle considering the state of his hands.

It had been a couple of days since he got back from the hospital, and his hands were still wrapped up like he was a mummy. Sure, they hurt like a bitch, and he had to have his brother help him apply burn cream in between his fingers every night, but all things considered, it wasn’t that bad of a trade for a week or so off of school.

Well, everyone got a week off of school, a chunk of the east end was blown off, but he was a special case.

It’s not like he would want to leave the apartment anyway. Ever since the bombing, cops and news reporters have been swarming his door for a word on what he saw go down.

The truth was, even if he didn’t have something to hide, he wouldn’t tell them what he saw. All of it, it made him feel like he was just some quick project to get a quick buck. Like all of his trauma and injuries were just something profitable.

Wilbur had said that it would all blow over in a couple of days. And in any other circumstance, he would blow off the words of wisdom. But his brother technically was a celebrity, so maybe he had some knowledge of the topic.

Speaking of Wilbur, him and their father could barely be seen out of Tommy’s eyesight. He reckons that if they had it their way, Tommy would never move a muscle on his own again. 

But he couldn’t blame them. In all of this, he remembered back to years ago, when Techno got hurt by those fireworks.

It wasn’t as big of an affair as Tommy’s injury was. In fact, it virtually went unnoticed save for a few stray comments or quests of opening something for his disabled brother. But back then- seemingly unlike everybody else- Tommy had felt so bad . So horrible on both himself and his brother that he had gotten hurt so bad. Because he cared about Technoblade, and seeing him hurt, hurt him as well. 

So he thought back to all those times Tommy would work as hands for his brother when he let Wil and Phil open something for him.

And he thought about how he woke up to his entire family around him in the hospital after the incident.

And he thought about how when Techno was hurt, he woke up all alone for hours.

That thought persisted in his mind as the man himself walked into his bedroom, looking upon Tommy’s hunched over figure on his bed, blanket wrapped tight around his shoulders, and bare feet smushed underneath him.

“What ya’ looking at?” Techno asked, sliding down into his rolly chair. The chair made a squeaking noise in protest, but otherwise the room around them was as quiet as it could be.

“Mm,” he hummed, testing it out on his tongue, “I’m looking at the snow. Does it snow in California?”

“No, not really,” Techno replied, “That’s one thing I missed about this place, the snow. Winter didn’t really feel like winter without it.”

Tommy nodded in understanding at the statement.

“What else did you miss?”

“I missed the apartment. As shitty as half of the memories are here, there is just something about it. I missed sharing a room with Wilbur. I had a roommate in college, but it just wasn’t the same, y’know.”

“Yea, like how he would play guitar late into the night.”

“You could hear that?”

“The walls are thin.”

Technoblade exhaled, “I mean, even in the later years before I left, when Wilbur and I weren’t really talking to each other, he would still sit down and play on his guitar. Whether it was tuning, or strumming, or testing out one of his songs. It was a solid reminder that he was still there.”

Tommy never thought about it that way before, but thinking about the long nights after Wilbur left, laying in his big, lonely bed, looking at the closed door across from him, he understood.

There was a silence before Tommy spoke, a hesitant one, like he wasn’t sure about the words forming in his mouth. But regardless, his lips parted, and his tongue moved.

“I don’t know if I want to be Dotratia anymore.”

(Somewhere, across the city, a teenage boy thinks about calling his best friend. Not for anything important, just because he was injured, and he couldn’t really text at the moment. In all honesty, he just wanted to lay down and talk with his friends.)

“Really?” Techno’s tone was unreadable, same as his expression. In this case, it unnerved Tommy.

“In all honesty, Tech, I think I might have run into this too quickly. I was- It was all so new and I was excited, and I thought I was this- this hero , but Tech,” he inhaled, nothing influential, “I keep getting hurt , and I have no clue what I’m doing.”

He looked back out to the window and continued, “I’m just so tired of being scared all the time.”

“Then don’t.”

(And somewhere, across the city, a teenage boy huffs, and rolls over to his computer setup, waiting for any word that a local superhero is online.)

The reply was blunt, something so Techno and yet so unexpected.

“What?” he floundered.

“Then don’t be the hero,” he elaborated, “Tommy, no one asked you to be. Everything you did was because you’re good , you did it out of the goodness of your heart. But in truth, you’re just a kid.”

“B-but, I can’t just stop now . There’s supervillains out there now. I brought them out here cause I was a dumbass flaunting my powers, I can’t just leave all of the city hanging in danger just because I don’t want to fight them anymore. Not when it’s at its worst.”

“Tommy, there’s literally crowds swarming the street, protesting against Dotratia. Nobody sees all that you’ve done for them. They don’t deserve you and all the shit you go through for them. Tommy,” he put his hand on Tommy’s shoulder, the one missing the fingers. Tommy looked down at his own burnt hands, “You don’t owe this city shit. I learned that years ago.”

Tommy looked his brother in the eyes, they met in a moment of vulnerability, “But I don’t want to let anybody down.”

Saying those words, he thought about his brothers leaving home. 

He thought about his mother.

“I can’t just stop,” he continued, “This is too big now. Even If I did, they know who I am. They would- they wouldn’t stop fuckin’ tormenting me until they killed me off. I dug myself into this hole and now I need to get myself out of it.”

Techno sighed, and tightened his grip around Tommy’s shoulder, “You’re too good for this world, Tommy. Half the people who went through all you did your entire life would not be half as good as you are.”

“I’m just. . .”

Doing what’s right.

Doing what anyone else would do.

Making it up to everyone.

In truth, he didn’t know what he was going to say.

“Tommy, I want you to know that if you continue, or if you stop at this very second, I will support you no matter what.”

“That’s a shitty answer.”

“What?”

“That’s such a- such an easy thing to say. How do you feel about all of this Techno, truly ?”

Techno paused for a moment, biting his tongue. If that was not answer enough, the man responded with, “Call me selfish, but I don’t know how much longer I can keep seeing you get hurt.”

He continued, “One day, I’m not going to be able to patch you up.”

Tommy frowned. If he were being completely honest, even now, none of this felt all that real. Save for his panic attacks, where everything felt so real, this all just kind of played together like a game for him.

“I-” he exhaled, “I can’t stop now.” he whispered.

Gently, Techno leaned forward until the two were touching foreheads, Tommy closed his eyes.

“Then at the very least, prepare for the weather.”

******

“Why are you wearing mittens?”

“Is a man not allowed to be cold anymore?”

Techno had a hard time trying to find not only winter gloves that would protect his fragile hands from the cold, but also something that would conceal his bulky injuries. Between the two of them, they both knew that Tubbo was dangerously smart, and looking at the scarily similar injuries to the ones Tommy has, it would not be hard to put two and two together.

In the end, they went with the shitty pair their mother crocheted over a decade ago. She was not good at crocheting in the slightest, and that could be seen in the crumpled up stitches and holes around the edges, but the odd shape served perfectly to conceal his bandages. With a simple blow to shoo away the dust encasing them, they were good as gold.

“ I dunno know how you’re supposed to save the day with mittens on. But okay.”

Tubbo’s reply was sharp and snappy, and Tommy could hear the clear annoyance swamping his voice.

At any other time, Tommy would have just let it slide, but after the conversation with his friends back at the hospital, he felt as if he couldn’t let things crumble again. And so he spoke.

“Hey, are you like, alright?” he asked, positioning himself on the edge of an apartment building. The snow on the top of the roofs made it hard to keep his footing, so he had to be extra careful.

“I’m fine .”

Tommy sniffed at that.

“It doesn’t sound like you are.”

“. . .”

“You can talk about it, y’know. There’s not really much to do while I’m just fucking around the city,” with that, he lept from one building to another. The snow squelched underneath his jump.

“ I’m thinking .”

“About what?”

“ Did you hear about that school got bombed the other day?”

Tommy inhaled sharply, “Yeah?”

“ . . .Why weren’t you there?”

“What?”

“ Fuckin- A school was bombed! Kids were hurt. They- we needed help and you weren’t there. Isn’t that your entire fucking job? To be there? To help?”

Oh god . How was he going to get himself out of this one? He had known that people were mad at him, sure, the mobs out in the streets made sure of that. But it had never crossed his mind that Tubbo would also be persecuting him.

What excuse could he possibly make up that could excuse not saving the school?

“I’m sorry,” Tommy said.

“ What? ”

“I- I didn’t know until it was too late. I couldn’t make it in time; I was too late. I,” he breathed in, and out, “I failed.”

Tubbo was not so easy to forgive, instead, he spoke up, “ My best friend got hurt in that explosion. You- you could have let Tommy die.”

He could have.

It was a thought that had passed his mind, underneath the rubble. Just letting go. As small as it was at the time, it was there. He would have died with his identity. 

Would Tubbo have forgiven Dotratia? Would Tubbo have forgiven Tommy?

“ I’m sorry ,” Tubbo said after a pause.

“What?”

“ I don’t think I’m really mad at you. Well- I am. But not as much as I want to be. I think I’m just fighting to find someone to blame that’s not myself.”

“What- but I am to blame. It is my fault,” Tommy objected.

“You weren’t the one that set off the bomb. You weren’t the one that went, ‘Hey! I should blow up a bunch of children today!’.”

“I guess you’re right. But you can still be mad at me. I know I am.”

Tubbo sighed, “ Well don’t be. God, you sound like Tommy, blaming yourself for things you can’t control.”

Tommy stiffened at the thoughtless comment. Luckily, it looked like Tubbo thought nothing of it.

“Let’s stop talking about sad shit now. I wanna run some experiments!”

“Experiments?” Tommy asked, looking around himself. It was getting pretty dark now. There was no chance that any of Dream and his little team would be prowling around now.

“ Y’know how in like, superhero comics, they like, develop and train their powers until they’re all cool and shit? I think, that if we can train your powers, you could be way stronger.”

“First of all, you sound insane. Second of all, you want me to be your little lab rat?” Tommy asked incredulously.

“Yes.”

“. . .okay,” he drew out the word, “Well it doesn’t look like I have anything better to do. How does this ‘training’ work then?”

“ Well, you can fly, right ?”

“Uh, more than the average person can I guess.”

“ But you can only fly. . .when you’re holding your breath. ”

“Stupid, but correct. Yes.”

“ So what if, like, we made it so you could fly better?”

“And how would we do that?”

“ What if- and hear me out- you jumped off of a building? ”

“What?!”

“ Hear me out!”

“You’re telling me to jump off of a building!”

“ Only to test out your flying!” 

“Is there, like, any science behind this? Or are you just hoping for the best?” Tommy asked, tilting his head forward. He was making it towards the edge of the city, the district that was more junk and train yard than actual city.

“Uhh ,” Tubbo clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, “ A little bit of both.”

“Okay,” he answered hesitantly, “You’re lucky I’m as reckless as you are.”

Tubbo cheered as Tommy made his way to the edge of the roof to one of the buildings, It was the last skyscraper around. Something not heavily used, but tall enough to fall from.

“So basically- y’know how when you drop a cat from a building, it’s better to drop them from a higher story because that gives them more time to realize the situation and turn around?”

. . .

“Yea?”

“ So just- fall, and let- I dunno- instinct take over?”

“I’m starting to feel like you’re still mad about the school thing, and now you’re just trying to get me killed,” Tommy said blankly, looking down at the ground below him. It was far away. It was really far down. Tommy wasn’t the type of guy to get afraid of heights, but there’s a difference between being afraid of heights, and standing on top of a skyscraper. It almost felt as if the edges of his eyes were blurring at the terror the fall struck in him.

“Come on man. Have you seen the shit you’ve been through? You’ve fought crazy men with magic weapons. This is literally just a little jump. A- a leap of faith if you will.”

“A leap of faith,” Tommy repeated, breathing out, “A leap of faith.”

He played through the events in his mind. The worst that could happen is that he falls to his death.

No big deal.

Even worse, he could get severely hurt, and then he would have to explain that to his family, and everyone around them. And then Tubbo would clearly find out his identity and everything would go down the shitter.

Or, he falls, and he flies.

He flies .

Tommy breathed in, and out, and backed up, preparing like a slingshot to be shot forward. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the cool air surround him.

And, without thinking, he ran forward.

At first, he hadn’t even noticed that he jumped, moreso, it was just that the hard ground he was running on disappeared from underneath him. And yet, he continued to kick his legs and swim his arms around like a child jumping off of a dock into a small lake below.

Strong gusts of air beat against his body below him accompanied by screaming wind.

There was other screaming too, it took a moment to realize that it was coming from himself.

“FUCK!” he screamed into the sky- or ground, his body was whipping around so fast he couldn’t gauge anything around him other than smears of blurring color.

“Hold your breath! Hold your breath! ” Tubbo chanted from his ear piece, Tommy could barely hear it over the wind.

The thing is, he couldn’t hold his breath. He could barely do anything. Everything around him was so overwhelming that his body just- cramped up; paralyzed. 

The ground was swiftly approaching, like open arms waiting for a greeting. Tommy was running out of time and all of the air had been shot out of his lungs.

“ Fly Dotratia! Fly!” Tubbo shouted a moment too late. Tommy felt himself collide with something hard, but only for a moment before he was falling once again, as if he just fell through the floor.

It almost looked as if he did, as when he opened his eyes, everything around him was pitch black except for a small opening of light quickly becoming smaller and smaller above him as he fell down further and further. 

And then, he hit the ground. He could feel the entire underside of himself bruise as he crumpled down into a heap, tasting the dust he disturbed on his tongue.

Groans of pain laced themselves into his heaving, and for a moment everything was silent as he assessed the damage.

It didn’t feel like anything was broken, which was a miracle in and of itself. If anything, it was like when he was a child and he fell out of a tree. Sure, getting the wind knocked out of him was scary, but otherwise he was unscathed.

“Are you okay?!”

“I’m-” he breathed out as he steadied himself and prepared to stand, “I’m fine.”

His hands felt around for anything near him, finding nothing but what felt like a brick wall.

Sometimes, his grandfather would come over to visit. Mostly, the man would just sit in their rocking chair and watch football on their tv. As a little kid, Tommy would love to just sit there and watch him, and every time the man would stand up from the chair, it looked and sounded like it took everything out of him.

As a kid, Tommy would always laugh at that, but trying to stand up now, he knew exactly how it felt.

His right ankle hurt a little bit to stand on, and it felt as if he had just ran a couple of miles without any break. Good lord, he really needed to start working out more.

With all of his physical afflictions out of the way, he turned around in attempts to scan his surroundings.

The room was nothing but an all encasing darkness around him, yet he could still feel the dank moistness of the walls leaking down to the floor. Everything around him echoed like a cave; the dripping, his heavy, heaving breathing.

“Where are we?” he asked into the air, the words silent and yet shooting out of his mouth towards the walls and back at him. His earpiece whirred to life again, and Tubbo’s voice joined the fray.

“It. . .looks like you’re somewhere in the subway system. But there’s no accessible record of which one you’re on, ” there was more clicking following his voice- furious tapping against the keys of a laptop, urgently trying to find something that Tommy couldn’t see, "Yea, I have no clue where you are right now."

Tommy exhaled and shakily pushed himself up from the ground until he was standing. If he could gauge one thing, it was that the room was tall enough for him to stand in, so he's not in the sewers.

"There should be a light on your mask. Double tap the side right next to your right eye," Tubbo informed. Damn, the guy really thought of everything, didn't he?

His gloved fingers found their way up to his mask, tapping on the side two times. And, as expected, a small light flickered on in front of him, it wasn't the brightest, but it was enough for him to see the cement brick wall in front of him.

The light seemed to be originating from somewhere near his eyes, as if he were a submarine.

"How did you install all of these things into this tiny mask?" He asked, holding his hand out in front of his now illuminated face.

"Micro technology."

Nothing but an ambietic silence followed.

". . .okay. So I hypothetically should be able to find my way out of here, right?"

" I mean, you fell through the ceiling. Worst comes to worst, you can just hold your breath and fly out of here ."

"Y'know," he breathed, "Despite being superhuman, I don't have heightened healing abilities. That fall still hurt like a bitch."

“Right. I dunno if I have anything to heal broken bones,” Tubbo hummed.

“It’s okay, I know a doctor,” with that, he swung his head around and started inspecting the new area that he had found himself in. 

Three of the four walls around him were closed in, while the final one opened up like a hallway. The flashlight wasn’t bright enough to shine down the end of it, and there was nothing to offer at the walls he found himself at now. So, swallowing his fear, Tommy continued forwards down the mysterious hall.

His steps sounded earthy, as if he was walking on dirt, pebbles squeaking and shooting out from underneath his shoes. That was the most jarring: there was no outside sound. Tommy had lived in the city for seventeen years and not once in that time was anything truly soundless.

He could hear nothing of the outside world. For a moment he wondered if the outside world could even hear him.

The hallway was long, and with no outside stressors, it felt as if it went on forever.

That was, until he came across a table.

It was short, meeting up to about his waist, but the contents on top of it were tall and reached up to the ceiling above his head. They looked to be class vials and beakers, something that he would see in his science class except they were shaped like something he had never seen before. The glass looked old and aged, even with it being sheltered from the light down here, and dust caked the outside of it. There was no substance inside of the beakers, but they certainly looked used.

The dusk on the glass contraptions followed down onto the table below him, a thick layer that covered the wood. Newly though, there were fingerprints and marks along the table, like someone had tried to swipe some of the fust away.

“Don’t touch anything, ” Tubbo whispered through the ear piece.

“Why?” Tommy responded, enraptured by the sight in front of him.

“It looks like someone was here recently. And with all this dust, they’ll see if someone messed with their shit. ”

Tommy hummed, and continued. Further along the table there were stacks of white paper, just getting ready to age with time. There was no neatness to how they were left on the table. Some were thrown to the side, some leaking onto the floor, some of them stapled together. And, like a bow on top, there was a leftover pen resting on the top of the paper, the end of it exploded with ink long since splattered out.

Minding the dust, Tommy picked up one of the papers that was askew off to the left of the biggest pile. It was a small stack of pages stapled together in the corner, bent at the edges.

Some of the writing was blurred out, hard to read, so Tommy just jumped over to a random set of words in the middle of the page.

-first dosage was administered on 11/8/2003. So far symptoms have only presented in three of the ten patients.

“What the fuck?” he muttered mindlessly underneath his breath, his eyes squinting underneath the mask.

“It looks like lab notes or some shit,” Tommy could just imagine the look on Tubbo’s face, the one he always adopted when he was deep in thought. His eyebrows would furrow, eyes with a matching squint, and his mouth would curl up into something like a grimace. Tommy found himself making a similar face at the text in front of him.

He kept reading. 

Those who did exhibit side effects complain of afflictions including but not limited to:

-Nausea and vomiting 

-Migraine and light sensitivity 

-Fever

And in more extreme cases:

-Hair loss

-Seizure 

-Death

-On 12/1/2003, Patient 7 succumbed to severe effects of the first dosage.

Tommy could barely process what he was reading. They were injecting people with something.

They were- they were killing people.

Something cold inside of himself churned at the realization that all of the earlier symptoms applied to himself when he first got his powers.

“There’s- no- there’s no way this could be related,” he muttered to himself. He knew that Tubbo could hear it regardless, but the other said nothing to prove so.

“Flip to the first page ,” he said instead. Tommy did as he was told. The first page was nothing but a blank page cover and a small title in dark ink.

PSC18-  MATTER PROGRAMMING 

“Matter programming?” he echoed the text.

“That sounds familiar,” Tubbo mumbled, “ But I can’t remember where. . .”

Tommy flipped the page.

“It looks like a summary. . .”

-On 1/1/2003, ten volunteers of different backgrounds signed consent papers to participate in the second round of PSC18-SMP. Five years prior to the unsuccessful first round. If this round is successful, we may be able to genetically mutate and modify the human body to create and withstand ‘inhuman’ abilities.

“They wanted to create superheroes,” Tubbo breathed.

“You don’t think that. . .” Tommy didn’t finish his statement, and instead flipped more pages. The following looked to just be permission slips- if permission slips allowed you to give up your anatomy to some scientists. 

None of the names sounded familiar, and he didn’t know if that was a good or a bad thing. That was, until he made it to a two page spread.

Tommy stopped breathing. 

The signature was loopy, yet jagged at the edges, something like a roller coaster. Unlike the others, the ink was red, red with a bad consistency.

Next to the signature was a printed name.

Kristen Watson

No. No. 

There was no way it was the same person. There was no way it was his mom .

No. No, no, no.

His mother died from complications of childbirth. She never- she would never-

But did he really know his mom? He never met her.

He never met her because she signed away her health to whoever these guys were.

His hands clamped around the pages, joints locked into place so hard they were turning white. He doesn’t think he could move even if he tried. He doesn’t think he could think even if he tried. Tubbo was saying something in his ears, it took everything in his power to listen to it.

“Dotriatia,” his voice cut through, “I think I know where I heard that name before. . .”

Against his better judgment, Tommy looked over to the next page; the next signed paper. All he could catch was the name ‘Wastaken’ , before there was a click behind him.

He couldn’t react, he didn’t have the chance to before something grabbed onto his face, right at his eyes, and yanked him backward. He let out a shout as he fell back, grabbing at his face. The hands were gone, but something remained clamped on his face.

His hands struggled for purchase on the thing on his face, but it wouldn’t come off. And with it on, everything around him was effectively black; darker than dark. Sightless. The only thing he could feel for certain was the ground underneath his back.

He couldn’t hear Tubbo anymore either, he was alone in this inky vastness. 

He was-

“You read it, didn’t you?” a voice sounded from somewhere around him. Disembodied and all encompassing, echoing from every angle. It was forgein and yet too familiar at the same time, like the voices of every person he’s ever met morphed into one, “You know what they’ve done now.”

Tommy didn’t reply, instead jumping up to his feet and stumbling around for any escape. Praying that ignoring the voice would make it go away.

“They tested on these women, trying to make superhumans. Well , not them persay. But their children. They knew that a single human body couldn’t handle that much genetic change in a lifetime, so what do you do in that predicament?”

Tommy could feel his breathing getting faster. He tried running forward, but there was no wall or end to greet him.

“You start from scratch.”

That last voice was louder than the rest, as if it was spoken right behind him. More notably, it was a single, tangible voice.

Tommy turned around, only to see-

“ They knew that the mothers would die during childbirth. That was part of their plan,” Techno grimaced from behind him. There was no emotion but contempt behind his eyes, hatred in his snarl, “They knew that they would die and they didn’t tell them.”

“T-Tech?” he couldn’t help the crack in his voice as he stepped back from his brother afraid. Techno stepped forward.

“They- they used them as fucking incubators for special genetic babies that they didn’t even use. They didn’t even use the babies ; they stopped the experiment before they could get their hands on any. Those people died for nothing,” Techno looked Tommy in the eyes and frowned, “Mom died for nothing.”

“No! No she didn’t!” Tommy tried, but honestly, he had no clue what to do. He was so scared.

“Well, that was until you got your hands on the second dosage,” Techno broke out into a laugh, keening and maniacal, unhinged, “I mean- what are the odds that you would find the second dosage, let alone three other people that also had the right receptors?”

“What are you talking about?” Tommy cried out.

“There’s a reason these babies needed to be born with the first dose already in them. . .”

In the blink of an eye, Techno was gone, and Tommy found himself a spector, out of his own body as he watched a scene unfold in front of him.

It was the room back where he first broke the potion, still intact, but after the glass was broken. A group of people stood at the entrance looking in, he recognized three of them as Dream, George, and Sapnap, the fourth one he had never seen before.

‘See! I told you it was real!’ Dream- or the Dream he was watching, exclaimed to the unknown person in the middle.

‘I believed you when Sapnap started breathing fire, man. Though the fact that there’s a sketchy lab just- down here in the sewers is kind of concerning,’ the man replied, looking around.

George walked over to the table in the middle, inspecting one of the glasses that went untouched the first time they had been there. He spun around the contents in the glass and looked at it very carefully.

‘This looks to be the same stuff we took,’ he said, handing it over to the middle guy.

‘And you’re sure this is safe?’

‘Dude, we were only sick for like a day. And besides, if this works consistently, this could change things forever,’ Dream urged. The man let out an exasperated sigh.

‘Fine, but if my hair falls out or something, I’m like, suing you guys.’

There was the telltale sound of glass shattering against the floor, and for a moment, everything was fine.

Dream, George, and Sapnap stood unscathed, but after a moment, the nameless man in the middle started choking. Gasping, gagging on nothing as his hands shot up to scratch at his throat. He stumbled around as if hit with mustard gas, tears streaming down his eyes before everything went black.

The scene before him cut off right before the vulgar gore, but his own eyes flashed back to the scene, the disarray he saw the place was left in that one night. Thinking back to the blood on the walls, he knew what happened to that man.

Tommy thinks he understands now. The three of them didn’t understand the severity of the situation they had gotten themselves into, and it had cost them their friend’s life.

“I understand,” he said into the open air, “I get that you’re mourning. But that’s no reason to hurt people!”

“You don’t understand anything,” the voice around him cried, “They killed our mothers. They killed them for some sick gain!”

“Stop-”

“They ruined your life, Tommy! The death of your mother ruined your perfect family. Even today, everyone’s so hurt because of them . Doesn’t that make you angry?”

“That’s not true!” he scraped his hands through his hair, fighting a losing battle. He couldn’t even listen to the words being spewed at him, every syllable thrumming through his bones.

“What? So you’re on their side? You’re with those fucked up scientists that thought they were above everyone else?”

“No! I’m not! But that doesn’t mean I want to destroy the city just because of what they’ve done years ago!”

“ They killed your mom, ” the voice repeated.

“I know! I know, I know they-”

“Tommy, are we the bad guys?”

Everything paused. Tommy turned around.

 Wilbur was standing there, all alone in the darkness, looking afraid and uncertain. He was wearing a much-too-big trench coat with a scratchy yellow sweater underneath. The same clothes he wore the night he left, “Tommy, am I a villain in this story? Am I the villain in your history?”

“Wilbur,” Tommy breathed out, holding a hand out towards the man. He knew, somewhere deep in his heart, that this was not the real Wilbur. It was just some image being played out in front of him, “I don’t-”

“Then let’s be the bad guys,” he bit. Tommy stumbled, “Why not? Why not? Look at our city, our city’s far behind us Tommy. Scattered across the island are more of these labs just waiting to hurt more people,” Wilbur stalked forward, his face growing more maddening, “We don’t know exactly where they are, but we can get rid of them.”

“What are you talking about, Wil?” Tommy dared to ask, his voice quiet and defenseless.

“Let’s blow that motherfucker to smithereens!” he exclaimed, nothing recognizable in his eyes, “We burn this place to the fucking ground. This is a new era of super humans, we don’t need New York anymore!”

“-It’s not too far gone, you- you keep talking about it like- like-” Tommy stammered, only to be cut off once more.

“What’s the point? More blood would be shared and you would be the illegitimate hero of a doomed city.”

“-You’re being reckless, Wil- Dream- fuck! The reason we’re here in the first place is because of these experiments,” Tommy dared step forward, shooting his hands out in front of him. For a split moment, he thought back to how he would fight with his father not too long ago.

Standing here now, it felt like forever ago.

“I know why you’re doing this, Tommy,” Wilbur hissed, his voice restrained and ready to pounce,
“That guy Tubbo- we love Tubbo, but he’s not on our side, is he? Let’s be honest, everyone who’s claiming to be on our side, they’re lying to us- Tubbo! He’s lying to you, man! He would drop you the second he realizes who you really are.”

“That’s not true,” Tommy was a broken record. 

(He thought back to the moment on the roof. Back to back with Tubbo, snow in the sky.)

“I see it, I hear it in your voice, you’re scared. Tommy, you’re scared. You’re trying to sound like you know what you’re doing so that you can prove me wrong, Tommy, none of us know what we’re doing,” Wilbur stalked forward until he was able to place his hands on Tommy’s face by the cheeks and pull him forward. Their faces were inches apart, and even though none of this was real, Tommy could feel Wilbur’s hot breath wash upon his face, “We’re fucked. We were fucked the minute you stepped foot in that subway,” he whispered, staring into his eyes.

Tommy sucked in a sharp breath, it caught in his breath and ricocheted back out as a sob, his eyes were burning. Upon seeing this, Wilbur pulled him into a hug, tucking his head against his ribs and resting his head upon Tommy’s blonde curls, “I know you’re scared, Tommy. I understand you’re scared and it’s scary. It’s scary Tommy but you know what? In a time like this, when a man has nothing to lose, do you know what that means?”

“It means we can do whatever we want.”

The words were a ghostly whisper, nothing but gusts of air against his ears. But like a match flicking down into gasoline, they set off an explosion.

Wilbur was gone as Tommy fell to the ground, millions of tiny bullets of wind shot at him from every angle, screaming as they went. He could hear Wilbur’s voice one last time, screaming over the commotion.

“Let’s blow the entire fucking place to kingdom come! I want no survivors! God help whoever’s caught in the crossfire!”

Screeching laughter bellowed over the earthquake like rumbling. Tommy was suspended in the roiling no man’s land, stumbling to escape.

He ran forward blindly, he didn’t know where, but he knew that he had to get away. The metal contraption was still wrapped around his eyes, he could feel hot tears pooling inside of it.

He mindlessly ran, and he ran until he stumbled into something more, a person.

Heaving, he looked up to come face to face with his father.

The man looked as terrified as he was, blue eyes large and strained, mouth open slightly in a wordless plea. Eyes creasing, he brought his hands up to hold Tommy’s face, his fingers snaked underneath the metal contraption. The next moment happened in three beats.

One .

Their eyes met, and the world around them seemed to come to a stop; the eye of the storm.

Two.

His father’s mouth opened, and a single word was released.

“Run. ”

Three.

There was a loud click, and the blackness glitched out of existence, throwing him back into the room he found before.

Without even thinking, Tommy wasted no time.

He ran. 

He didn’t know where, he could barely see anything, but his legs pumped against the ground like violent trots. The hall around him seemed to stretch on and on, much longer than he remembered stumbling down earlier.

Things were shooting at him left and right, what, he couldn’t tell. He could, however, tell that all three villains were chasing after him. Crackling swaths of fire licking at him hungrily from every angle, water reaching for his feet, trying to yank him down. And, in the corner of his eye, Tommy could just see a flash of a smile.

Tommy couldn’t stop running, he couldn’t. If he did, it was over for him. Before, fighting one of these guys was nothing, but something deep inside of him screamed that they were here for games anymore.

If they got their hands on him now, he would die.

In his running, he was coming upon a door. Without even thinking, his hand shot up in front of him, launching the door open. The moment was so sudden that it snapped off of it’s hinges, but the now abandoned piece of wood went disregarded as he sprinted into the new room.

It was a skyscraper stairwell.

Fuck , fuck fuck.

Now was better than ever to test out how useful his powers actually were. Instead of running up each individual stair, he grabbed onto the middle railing and launched himself upward, manipulating the momentum so he could reach and grab onto the next railing and doing the same.

Though it was much quicker than running up the stairs, it still wasn’t fast enough. Fire was still licking at his feet, hands were still wordlessly grabbing for him.

But he was nearing the top. He just needed to make it to the roof. Unlike the other three, he could fly, he would have the upper hand if he just made it to the roof-

He wasn’t fast enough. Sapnap grabbed onto his mid so hard that the both of them went tumbling and crashing through one of the thin walls. Covered in dust and drywall, Tommy thoughtlessly punched at the man on top of him, wiggling and kicking, trying to get him off.

Before Dream or George had a chance to get into the room, Tommy got a good punch on Sapnap’s face, launching him over to the side for just enough time to get up and start running again.

He looked to be in an abandoned office building floor now. Virtually empty with only cubicles and chairs left behind. He didn’t have time to think about whether they belonged to scientists as he was running.

“Dotratia! You need to get out of the building!” Tubbo made a resurgence in his ear, shouting at him.

“I know that, I know that!” he gasped, jumping over tables and kicking over chairs. He heard someone shout from behind him but he had no time to listen.

“It’s too high up to make it down to the ground safely, but there’s another way- it’s crazy!”

“What is it?-” Tommy stopped momentarily as he made it to the end of the room; a wall made of thick glass, a window out into the rest of the city. Tubbo was right, the ground was much too far to jump to. But there was a swiftly moving train about halfway down, “ No , no, no way!”

“They’re gonna catch up, you have to!”

“I’m gonna fucking die if I try to jump onto that!” Tommy panicked, his heart seizing as he looked down at the train.

“You need to-”

“I can’t!-”

“ Fucking- Jump! Tommy, jump!”  

That was enough to shoot Tommy out of his stupor. Pulling out something deep inside of him, the window in front of him shattered just like the mirrors did all the way back at homecoming.

He backed up, daring to get any closer to the predators chasing after him. He could feel the ghost of a hand grab for his shoulder before he sprinted forward faster than he thought he could ever run.

This time, his feet tilted at the end and launched his entire body upwards. He held his breath like his life depended on it, and swinging his arms in circles, he jumped.

For a moment, it was as if the entire world slowed to a stop with just him moving at a snail's pace. Him, in the middle of the sky, for a moment it felt as if he was flying.

He exhaled.

You can do this, you can do this, you can do this.

His trajectory was met, and he wishes he could say that the landing was graceful, but as he slammed against the back railing of one of the train carts and flipped over onto the inside of it, he only had a single second to look back at the building he jumped from.

For one, single moment, he saw Dream’s face, an unplaceable emotion, and then the train went underneath a tunnel.

“Meet me behind the downtown soup shop.” was all Tubbo said.