Chapter Text
It was officially September, which meant that summer was drawing to an end.
Days were no longer defined by painfully blue skies and humid air that suffocated you like an invisible blanket. Cool breezes worked their way down the streets, the trees were beginning to fade from green to brown, and the air was crisp with the promise of autumn.
The farmer’s market was a sea of bright orange pumpkins and deep red apples. Every Starbucks was advertising the return of the pumpkin spice latte, and grocery stores had already converted entire aisles to colorful walls of candy bags in preparation for Halloween.
That hazy summer was fading away, leaving behind something sharper, something filled with promise.
Besides the changes in weather that came with September though, there was one other very important event that Tommy found himself frantically texting nearly everyone he knew about.
Tommy: how’s setup going??
Ranboo: Well Tubbo set something on fire but Techno was able to put it out so we’re all good I think
Tommy: WHAT
Tubbo: it was a TINY fire shut the fuck up
Tubbo: anyway it’s fine now it only smells a little bit smoky in here
Aimsey: I don’t think you’re gonna be allowed in the pub again after this
Tubbo: It was only a little bit of quackity’s hair that got burnt!! He’s got plenty of it it’s fine!!
Tommy: for the love of fuck can we not set the place on fire before the party happens
Tubbo: you worry too much it’s fineeeee
Tommy: aimsey is everything ok
Aimsey: Yes Tommy the fire has been resolved and we’re all back to decorating now
Niki: I’m almost there with the flowers and cake btw!
Aimsey: great!! I can help you carry them in??
Niki: it’s ok I have Jack with me he’s driving rn
Tommy: how does the cake look?? Is it ok??
Niki: Are you doubting my baking skills?
Tommy: wait no i didnt mean it like that
Niki: Lol it’s ok Tommy I think it’s sweet you’re so worried about making sure everything is set up properly
Quackity: Why the fuck is my phone buzzing so much
Tommy: Big Q is your hair ok
Quackity: No it’s not after this party Tubbo is banned from the pub for life
Tubbo: awww big q :(((
Quackity: okay maybe I’ll make it three months but you’re still banned for a while
Quackity: Anyway Tommy is Wilbur back from work yet
Tommy: he is he’s taking a shower rn
Quackity: Alright how are you gonna get him over here
Tommy: i’m literally just gonna ask if he wants to get dinner at the pub it won’t be hard
Aimsey: and you’re sure he doesn’t suspect anything??
Tommy: I don’t think so
Tommy: okay he just got out of the shower so i’m gonna ask him about dinner now
Tommy: finish getting everything ready asap
Tubbo: o7 on it bossman
Aimsey: o7
Ranboo: o8
Tommy: fucking losr can’t even o7 right
Ranboo: :(
Tommy looked up from his phone when he heard footsteps trailing into the living room. Wilbur was fresh out of the shower, damp curls sticking to his forehead and glasses littered with water droplets as he made his way to the kitchen.
“You hungry?” Tommy called out from where he was stretched out across the couch.
He heard the fridge door open. “A little, yeah!”
Sitting up, Tommy shoved his phone in his pocket and leaned over the back of the couch so he could peer into the kitchen. “I think we should go out for dinner tonight.”
Wilbur shut the fridge door. “Why?”
“Because it’s your birthday, duh,” Tommy said, rolling his eyes. “And you’re gonna let me pay since I haven’t gotten you a gift yet.”
That was a lie. Wilbur’s gift was already wrapped and sitting under his bed, but that morning Tommy had told Wilbur he was still waiting to get his latest paycheck from Puffy before getting his gift. Wilbur hadn’t been upset, and even seemed surprised that Tommy wanted to get him a gift at all.
Little did he know.
“You don’t have to buy me dinner because you didn’t get me a birthday gift,” Wilbur huffed, leaning against the counter. “We don’t even have to do anything. I’m really not a huge birthday guy.”
“Aw c’mon, it’s not every day you turn twenty-six! You’re officially in the later half of your twenties. You gotta celebrate every birthday before you turn into dust,” Tommy teased, grinning at Wilbur.
Wilbur rolled his eyes and stepped out of the kitchen and into the living room. Tommy snickered when Wilbur reached out to ruffle his hair, and immediately stretched out across all the couch cushions when Wilbur tried to sit down next to him.
“You know I’m just gonna sit on your legs if you don’t make room for me,” Wilbur told him, giving him a flat stare.
Tommy met his stare without flinching. “No you won’t, you fucking pussy.”
That was the wrong thing to say, because as soon as the words left his mouth, Wilbur grinned and flopped down onto the couch right on top of his legs. Tommy yelped and tried to pull his legs back, but Wilbur just laughed and stretched out, crushing Tommy’s legs underneath him.
“You fucking bitch you’re too heavy- get off!” Tommy yelled, struggling to free himself to no avail.
“You asked for it, you little shit,” Wilbur shot back, glasses sitting askew on his nose.
After another moment of struggling, Tommy managed to wiggle his legs out from under Wilbur’s ass, and immediately kicked his side as hard as he could.
“Ouch! That fucking hurt!” Wilbur shouted.
Tommy tucked his legs up against his chest. “Your fault for being a bitch.”
Wilbur narrowed his eyes at him, and before Tommy could realize his mistake, Wilbur was launching himself across the couch. Tommy screeched as Wilbur yanked him into a headlock, and the two fell off the couch and onto the ground in a flurry of limbs. Tommy flailed his arms around trying to smack Wilbur in the face, which just made Wilbur tighten the hold he had on Tommy’s head.
The two wrestled on the ground for a few more minutes until Tommy slammed his foot into the coffee table, the resulting rattle making both of them fall immediately silent. When they were reassured that nothing got broken, Tommy gave up trying to free himself and slumped against Wilbur’s chest, and Wilbur chuckled as he released Tommy from the headlock and readjusted them both so they were sitting up against the bottom of the couch.
In a way, it was strange how different they acted around each other now compared to the beginning of the summer when Tommy had first moved here. They went from short, stilted conversations and tentatively talking about poetry and art, to regularly teasing one another, talking for hours about the most random things, and also smacking each other if the Instinct rose up.
The house itself had even changed since the start of the summer, as if to reflect the shift in their relationship. Around the end of August, Tommy had taken it upon himself to start unpacking some of Wilbur’s moving boxes. When Wilbur came home to the living room covered in old books, cheap home decorations, and fake plants that had been crushed from sitting in cramped cardboard for so long, Tommy had expected him to be upset.
Instead though, Wilbur didn’t say a word. He just put down his stuff and began to unpack the next box Tommy had yet to start on. They turned on some music while they worked, and by the end of the night, there was a stack of empty boxes waiting by the front door to be taken out to the recycling bin.
It turned out that Wilbur had a lot of books. A lot of books. Wrinkled paperback covers and yellowed pages showed that Wilbur bought almost all of his books secondhand, and he apparently had been meaning to donate most of them to the library he worked at, but he just hadn’t found the energy to sort through them all on his own.
He wasn’t on his own anymore though. Tommy helped him go through every book, and although they definitely kept more than they had proper room for, Wilbur was able to deliver a box full of old books to his shift the next day.
Now the living room was a completely different space to the one Tommy had first walked into back in June. Jack had an old bookshelf he was getting rid of, so Tommy and Wilbur had gladly taken it off his hands and set it up next to the TV. There were too many books to fit on it, but they found different spots for all of them, lining the books up on shelves and alcoves as best they could. Some of the fake plants were too crushed to save, but the ones that Tommy deemed as still presentable he set up in the windows and on tables like they were real plants, and he found Wilbur dusting them nearly every week without fail.
The battery-powered tea candles were still left in their spots from that night of the power outage. Although they never bothered to go through the hassle of turning all of them on again, every once in a while they’d turn on a few to give the living room a soft glow at night, and Tommy had to admit, it made the place feel far cozier than it did when the normal lights were on.
Right now it was still early in the evening. Golden sunlight spilled across the living room floor, and Tommy watched the dust caught in the beams dance around and around. He didn’t move from where he was leaning against Wilbur’s side, and Wilbur didn’t move the arm he had looped over Tommy’s shoulders. They were both perfectly comfortable like this.
“Let’s go to the pub tonight,” Tommy said, keeping his eyes fixed on the window. “You at least deserve to eat some of Techno’s fries on your birthday.”
Snorting, Wilbur rested his chin on top of Tommy’s head. “Alright, fine, you’ve convinced me. An extra plate of fries would be the best gift I could imagine.”
Smiling to himself, Tommy nodded. “Sounds good, Big Dubs.”
A few minutes later, Tommy was back in his room, sliding Wilbur’s present into his backpack. He’d pulled a hoodie over his t-shirt because it was chilly enough outside to need one, and once he zipped his backpack up, all he had left to do was put his shoes on so they could head out.
Walking back into the kitchen, Tommy spotted Wilbur tugging his shoes on by the front door. He’d pulled a sweater over his own t-shirt, and his glasses looked like they were two seconds from falling off his nose as he hunched over to knot his laces.
Dropping to the ground next to his own discarded shoes, Tommy grabbed them both and slipped them on, lacing them up as he listened to Wilbur’s keys jingle behind him.
“Why do you have your backpack?” Wilbur suddenly asked.
Tommy stiffened, fingers freezing mid-loop while tying his shoes. “I just…” Shit, why would he be bringing his backpack? He didn’t want to give Wilbur his present yet so he couldn’t carry it under his arm, but it wasn’t like he had any real reason to bring his backpack to the pub if they were ‘just going for dinner’.
“I wanted to bring my sketchbook,” Tommy said after a moment, resuming tying his shoes like nothing happened. “I dunno if I’m gonna draw, but I’m just kind of in the mood. And there’s usually a lot of interesting people at the bar I think I could sketch, so…”
He trailed off, hoping Wilbur wouldn’t question it more than that.
“You should draw me since it’s my birthday,” Wilbur joked, and Tommy breathed a silent sigh of relief knowing that his lie had passed by undetected.
Tommy thought of the item twisted up in gift wrap that was sitting inside his backpack right now, and suppressed his urge to smile. “No thanks, I only draw people I think are interesting.”
Wilbur lightly smacked the top of Tommy’s head for that. “You’re a gremlin. A truly evil little gremlin.”
As he pushed to his feet again, shoes now tightly laced, Tommy scowled at Wilbur. “I’m not little, bitch. I’m almost as tall as you!”
“Really?” Wilbur raised an eyebrow at him, rolling his shoulders back and stepping closer to Tommy to show off his height. Tommy’s scowl deepened when he had to look up to meet Wilbur’s eyes, because while he was closer to Wilbur’s height than a lot of their friends, he still had a few inches on Tommy.
“Fuck you,” Tommy grumbled, shoving past Wilbur out the front door.
Behind him, Wilbur laughed as he locked the front door. Tommy climbed into the passenger seat of the car, settling his backpack down by his feet. Once Wilbur was behind the wheel and had one of his favorite playlists blasting, they pulled out of the driveway and turned onto the main road.
Tommy: we’re on our way
Ranboo: oh NO
Ranboo: I MEAN
Ranboo: UH
Ranboo: oh yay???
Tommy: huh
Aimsey: IT’S OK WE HAVE IT ALL UNDER CONTROL
Ranboo: THERE IS ANOTHER FIRE AIMSEY IT IS NOT UNDER CONTROL
Aimsey: TOMMY IGNORE THIS IT’S FINE WE’RE PUTTING IT OUT RIGHT NOW
“Is something wrong?” Wilbur asked, distracting Tommy from the extremely worrying texts he was getting in the groupchat.
Eyes going wide, Tommy flipped his phone over so Wilbur couldn’t see the screen, and nodded quickly. “Yup, everything’s fine.”
“You sure? You seemed kind of worried when you were checking your texts.”
“Oh, that? Tubbo just set something on fire again,” Tommy lied, although it technically wasn’t a lie considering he was one hundred percent certain that Tubbo had to be the cause of this second fire. “It’s okay though. Aimsey said they’re handling it.”
Wilbur snorted. “I swear to god, if there’s ever an arson attack in this town, Tubbo is gonna have to get the hell out of dodge because he’s gonna be suspect number one.”
The phone on his leg buzzed again, and Tommy carefully lifted the screen just to see the notification.
Niki: It’s ok we got it put out!! We’re all ready to go!
Oh, thank fuck.
Thankfully, the rest of the drive didn’t include any more updates about fires being set. Traffic wasn’t terrible at this time of day, and Tommy scrunched up his eyes against the setting sun, glancing at the car clock every few minutes to see how long it was taking them to get there.
Soon, they were pulling into the parking lot for the pub. While a few cars belonging to their friends were there, the rest of the lot was completely empty, which made sense since Quackity had posted on the pub’s Facebook page that they were rented out for a private event tonight. (It turned out Wilbur never used Facebook, save for the handful of times he messaged Tommy before he moved here, so the surprise was kept intact.)
“This is weird,” Wilbur muttered as he pulled into a spot. “It’s almost completely empty.”
Tommy shrugged, already unclipping his seatbelt. “Maybe it’s just a slow day.”
“I’ve literally never seen it this empty before except when it’s closed,” Wilbur said, his frown deepening as he cut the engine. “Are you sure it’s open?”
“Why the hell wouldn’t it be open?” Tommy asked, climbing out of the car and swinging his backpack over his shoulder.
Wilbur, who was still sitting behind the wheel, narrowed his eyes at the door to the pub. “I dunno-”
“We’re already here!” Tommy exclaimed, cutting him off. “Let’s just go check to see if they’re in there.”
Although Wilbur was obviously unsure, he sighed and climbed out of the car as well. Tommy raced ahead of him, using the few extra seconds to send a text to the groupchat telling them that they were there. He shoved his phone back in his pocket right as Wilbur stepped up beside him, leaving both of them waiting in front of the door to the pub.
“Tommy, there’s literally no noise coming from inside,” Wilbur pointed out. “I dunno why Quackity and Techno would close it tonight, but I don’t think they’re here.”
Rolling his eyes, Tommy reached for the handle and pushed it open ever so slightly. “It’s open, dumbass. C’mon.”
Then, before Wilbur could protest further, Tommy grabbed his wrist and dragged him into the bar.
“Look, I’m telling you that-”
“Surprise!”
The chorus of surprise was nowhere near as cohesive as it should’ve been, with Niki being the first one to say it, while everyone else hurried to say it in turn. But it was enough to cut Wilbur off, and his eyes went wide as he looked around the pub, realizing that it was decidedly not empty.
The pub didn’t look that much different than normal, save for the cheap crepe paper strung up along the walls, several flower bouquets set in empty beer bottles on different tables, and the giant chalkboard behind the bar that usually had the current beer selection written on it, but had been replaced with ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY WILBUR’ instead. On the corner of the chalkboard, Tommy could see a small doodle of Wilbur had been done in yellow chalk, and it wasn’t hard to recognize the sketchy style as Phil’s.
Speaking of, Phil was leaning against the bar, Techno standing shoulder to shoulder with him, Quackity was settled behind the bar, while Aimsey and Ranboo were sitting on the barstools in front of him. Niki, Jack, and Tubbo were on the other side of the room from the bar, with Niki and Jack already holding cocktails, while Tubbo sipped on a soda.
“Wh- What is this?” Wilbur asked, gaping as his eyes darted between everyone in the room.
“I mean, there’s a giant sign reading Happy Birthday on the chalkboard behind me, but I dunno it could be anything,” Techno deadpanned, smirking at Wilbur.
“It’s a birthday party, Wil!” Niki told him, setting her drink down behind her.
“I mean, yeah, I- I got that,” Wilbur said, blinking a few times as he looked around the room. “But… why? Twenty-six isn’t, like, a special birthday or anything.”
“You have Tommy to thank for that,” Phil said, gesturing to where Tommy was still hovering behind Wilbur. “The whole thing was his idea.”
Immediately, Wilbur twisted around to look at Tommy, who was folding his arms over his chest and trying to suppress the embarrassed heat rising to his cheeks.
“Tommy, I really appreciate it, man, this is amazing, but you didn’t have to do all this for me,” Wilbur said, still looking more confused than anything else.
Tommy’s eyes dropped to the ground as he shrugged. “I mean, you said you weren’t really able to celebrate last year. So I thought it might be nice to, like, have a real party this year.”
When Tommy had first asked Wilbur about his upcoming birthday a few weeks earlier, Wilbur had told him that his twenty-fifth birthday had been overshadowed by one of the worst depressive episodes he’d had in years. He hadn’t even had the energy to check all the happy birthday texts he was getting, and Phil ended up scaling his fence to get into the backyard so he could make sure Wilbur was alright.
Obviously that was a pretty shitty way to spend a birthday. So Tommy wanted to make sure the next one wasn’t like that. Hence, the idea for the party.
A beat of silence passed, and Tommy’s nerves twisted tighter and tighter in his gut. When he worked up the courage to lift his head again, he was met with a smile that was undeniably… fond. Fond and full of love.
“Thank you,” Wilbur said quietly, reaching out to squeeze Tommy's shoulder. “I really appreciate it.”
Ignoring the way his throat felt like it was closing up, Tommy forced himself to laugh and lightly smack Wilbur’s hand off of him. “At least wait until you’re a few drinks in to get all sappy, dipshit.”
Wilbur rolled his eyes. “Fine. Quackity-”
“Got you covered already,” Quackity said, sliding a beer across the bar towards Wilbur.
With that, the party broke into full swing. While Wilbur was talking to Phil, Techno, and Quackity, Tommy, meanwhile, hurried over to where Niki, Jack, and Tubbo were standing near one of the booths.
“What the hell got set on fire?” Tommy hissed as soon as he got close, having been sniffing the air since they stepped inside to try and see if he noticed any smoke.
Tubbo immediately paled, while Niki sighed and Jack took another sip of his cocktail.
“Look, Tommy, it’s totally fine now-”
“He set my fucking jacket on fire!” Jack exclaimed, cutting off Tubbo’s attempt at brushing him off.
Tommy blinked, looking at Jack and noticing how he definitely wasn’t wearing a jacket. “What?”
“I wanted to try and make a miniature version of that flame ball thrower thing I showed you a while back, so we could use it to light the candles!” Tubbo explained, setting his soda down and gesturing wildly with his hands. “It went off by accident twice though. First was before Niki and Jack got here, and Quackity was standing a bit too close, hence his hair getting burnt.” As he went over this, he pointed at the wall behind the bar, where Tommy could see a faint black spot was marring the wood. “The second time was when Jack and Niki walked in and I was trying to figure out why the fuck it went off like that, and then it went off again! Totally unprompted!”
“That was my favorite jacket,” Jack grumbled, folding his arms over his chest.
“I’ll pay you back, man,” Tubbo reassured him. “How much was it?”
“A hundred-”
“It was ten dollars from a thrift store,” Niki said, cutting Jack off.
Tubbo narrowed his eyes at Jack. “You were going to lie to me! You fucking bastard!”
“Well I think I should get a hundred for the emotional damages you caused!” Jack argued, scowling now. “Getting set on fire is not a very fun thing to go through, you know.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve set myself on fire a shit ton,” Tubbo shot back, rolling his eyes. “I’ll give you ten bucks for the jacket.”
“Oi, that’s bullshit. You should at least give me twenty,” Jack pushed.
“How about I give you ten for the jacket, and then I buy you a drink to call it even?” Tubbo asked, raising an eyebrow.
Jack considered this for a moment, glancing between his bare arms and his cocktail, which was almost empty now. After a beat, he nodded. “Fine. We can make that work.”
Tubbo held out a hand towards Jack, and Jack shook it quickly. A gentlemen’s agreement, Tommy supposed.
“Now that that’s settled,” Niki cut in, seemingly eager to change the subject, “Tommy, do you wanna see the cake?”
“Oh, fuck yeah!”
Giggling, Niki moved to the side of the table, gesturing for Tommy to take a look. He shoved himself in between her and Tubbo, leaning over to see the cake settled in the center. The thing was, Tommy really had no idea what kind of cake Wilbur liked, so he’d just trusted Niki to make something that tasted good. The cake itself was covered in white frosting and yellow piping, with strawberries and blueberries scattered across the top. There was also a small, ‘Happy Bday Wil!’ written in neat cursive there as well, and Tommy’s eyes widened seeing how well done the whole thing was.
“Niki, this is fucking amazing,” he said, eyes going wide. “This looks like you got it from a bakery!”
“Oh shush. I just bake for fun sometimes, so I’ve had some practice.”
“If this thing tastes half as good as it looks, you should think about opening a bakery,” Tommy told her, taking a step back so he wasn’t leaning over the cake.
“Oh, it definitely will,” Jack jumped in. “Niki’s being humble, but she’s fucking great. Trust me, I know better than anyone.”
“Jack’s my taste tester,” Niki clarified. “Whenever I’m experimenting with new recipes or something, I make him try it.”
“It’s a hard job y’know,” Jack said, staring wistfully into the distance. “I have to try all these delicious cakes and pies for no pay at all.”
“Wow, must be so difficult,” Tubbo deadpanned.
Wiping away a fake tear, Jack nodded. “It really is.” Then, he picked up his cocktail again, and downed the rest of it before focusing back on Tubbo. “Even talking about it is reminding me of how stressful my life is again. I think it’s time I get another drink.”
Tubbo rolled his eyes at this. “Alright, c’mon-”
“You know you can’t buy Jack a drink, right Tubbo?” Another voice suddenly cut in.
Tommy looked up to see Phil walking towards their group, and noticed that he didn’t have paint staining any of his clothes or face for once.
“What do you mean?” Jack asked, frowning at Phil.
“He’s underage. Can’t buy alcohol,” Phil explained.
“Wh- But he’s not gonna be the one drinking it! I am!” Jack argued.
Tubbo, meanwhile, was beaming now. “HA! Take that, motherfucker!”
“Doesn’t matter that he won’t be drinking it. He can’t be the one to purchase it.”
Jack groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “Fucking hell- fine, Tubbo, give me cash.”
“Ranboo has my cash,” Tubbo chirped, looking far more cheerful than he had been only a minute before.
“Why the hell does Ranboo have your cash?” Jack asked, frowning at him.
“Well, he doesn’t technically have my cash, but he gives me cash all the time so it’s basically mine,” Tubbo explained.
Jack stared at Tubbo for a moment, before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, c’mon, we’re going to Ranboo then.”
“I want another drink too,” Niki quickly said, following Jack and Tubbo away from the table and back towards the bar.
As the three of them drifted away, that left Tommy alone with Phil, and Phil immediately moved to stand next to Tommy so they were shoulder to shoulder.
A month before, being left alone with Phil like this would make Tommy’s mind race. Tension would choke the air between them, leaving Tommy gasping internally as he tried to figure out how to speak to his ex-stepfather again.
But a lot had changed. Ever since that day in Phil’s studio when Tommy ended up breaking down in his arms, things had been a lot better between the two. It wasn’t perfect. There was still a bit of awkwardness when Tommy talked about the parts of his life Phil had missed, and both of them avoided talking about his mother like the plague, but it was a vast improvement to the way things had been between them before.
“How was it getting him here?” Phil asked, pointing to where Wilbur was explaining something excitedly to Techno, Quackity, and Niki. He was making huge hand gestures as he spoke, his eyes wide and smile even wider. From what Tommy could tell, he was having a good time, at least so far.
“It was pretty easy,” Tommy said, letting his shoulder bump against Phil’s. “Just had to mention Techno’s fries and he was all for driving over.”
“Course he was. Guess it’s better that way, because if you weren’t able to get him to come over, I had a plan B in mind but it wasn’t pretty.”
Tommy frowned. “What was plan B?”
A mischievous grin spread across Phil’s face. “I was gonna call Wil and tell him I was lost and just try to describe my surroundings to him until he ended up at the pub.”
“What the fuck?” Tommy exclaimed.
“What? You little shits make jokes about me being old all the damn time, figured I could get back at at least one of you and pretend like I’d gone fucking senile,” Phil joked, elbowing Tommy in the side.
“Phil!”
“It’s funny!” Phil argued. “Anyway, didn’t end up happening so I’ll just save that for a rainy day.”
Although Tommy was pretending to be mad at Phil, he couldn’t smother his smile as he elbowed him back. “You’re such an asshole,” he teased.
“Like you and Wil aren’t the same way,” Phil scoffed. Tommy laughed at that, and something in Phil’s face softened. “Thank you for coming up with this idea though, Tommy. Even though he said he didn’t, I think Wil needed it.”
Focusing back on the bar, Tommy watched as Wilbur’s head tilted back, and he let out a shrieking laugh as Quackity slammed his fist against the bar, and Niki nearly choked on her drink.
“What makes you say that?” Tommy asked, folding his arms over his chest.
“I just mean that before you came along, Wil was having a bit of a rough time,” Phil explained, also keeping his eyes fixed on Wilbur. “You obviously know about his birthday last year, but things didn’t get a lot better after that. He was getting treatment and all, but he was still having a lot of bad days, and I told him it would be good for him to get a roommate. I just thought it might help for him not to be alone in his house all the time, y’know?” He paused then, chuckling to himself and shaking his head. “Imagine my fucking face when he told me he’d gotten back in contact with you, and that you were looking for a place to stay.”
Tommy blinked, eyebrows furrowing as the realization set in. He’d always wondered why Wilbur had so easily opened his home to Tommy, despite the fact that they hadn’t spoken in so long. He’d just assumed he either felt guilty about how things had left off so many years before, or that he needed help with the rent and preferred someone he at least somewhat knew moving in over a complete stranger.
But according to Phil… it sounded like Wilbur had been lonely. Like he needed a reason to not give into the voice in his head telling him to lock himself away from everything and everyone.
And Wilbur had decided that Tommy could be that reason.
“He still has bad days sometimes,” Tommy said quietly, turning to look at Phil.
“I know, but from what he’s told me, they pop up far less often than they did before you moved in,” Phil told him, giving him a small smile. “He’s told me how you help him out when he has those bad days, but you also help him even on the better days.”
“But I- I don’t think I do that much,” Tommy argued.
Phil shook his head. “It’s just you, Tommy. You help by being you.”
Something solid lodged itself in Tommy’s throat at that, but before he could process fully what Phil had said, a booming voice echoed through the pub.
“Alright everyone, we’re doing shots!” Quackity announced, holding up a bottle of tequila like a trophy.
Wilbur immediately shook his head. “I have work tomorrow. I absolutely cannot do shots, but the rest of you can if you want.”
“I can!” Jack volunteered.
“I mean, if you have extra tequila-”
“Tubbo, I am not losing my liquor license for you after you set my hair on fire,” Quackity said, cutting him off.
Techno snorted. “Quackity, c’mon, we’re literally closed right now. It’s just us here, and I can drive the kids home if they need.”
“Unless someone snitches,” Quackity muttered.
“Do we have any snitches here?!” Techno called out, looking around the bar.
Everyone shook their heads, and Techno shrugged before turning back to Quackity. “Seems like we don’t have to worry about any snitches.”
Quackity narrowed his eyes, glancing around the room. Then, he sighed. “Fine. Aimsey, Ranboo, Tommy, you guys can have shots if you want. Tubbo still can’t.”
“Aw, Big Q, whyyyyyy?” Tubbo whined, leaning heavily against the bar.
“Because you already set my hair on fire while you were sober. I think if you got drunk you’d find a way to burn the whole building down,” Quackity said, already lining up shot glasses.
Tubbo pouted. “What if I promise not to burn it down?”
“I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you.”
“I’m not that tall though! I bet Techno could throw me pretty far,” Tubbo pointed out.
Techno snickered. “Yeah, I bet I could chuck him pretty far if I tried.”
Groaning, Quackity dragged his hands through his hair before letting out another deep sigh. “Oh my god, fine, okay! You can have one shot, Tubbo. But only one.”
“Yes!” Tubbo cheered, watching as Quackity poured the tequila in the shot glasses.
“Alright, how many am I lining up then? Tubbo, Ranboo, Aimsey, Jack-”
“I’ll have one,” Niki chimed in.
“Okay, Niki, then Phil, you want one?”
Phil considered it for a moment, before nodding. “One won’t really do much, but sure, why not.”
Quackity nodded. “Okay, so that’s six so far. And then seven including Tommy-”
“Oh, I don’t want one,” Tommy quickly cut in as he and Phil both made their way up to the bar. “I have work tomorrow too.”
“Good choice,” Wilbur said, nudging his shoulder. “Tequila hangovers are hell.”
“Alright, Techno I know you’re not drinking, so then that makes seven total,” Quackity said, going down the row of shot glasses with the tequila bottle.
“Who’s the seventh?” Tommy asked.
Quackity raised an eyebrow. “Me, obviously. I’ve already dealt with two fires today. I need it more than any of you assholes.”
He ran down the line of glasses, filling each one until it was almost at the top. Once the line was filled, he handed them out to their respective drinkers, but left his own on the counter.
“Tommy, you don’t have to have a shot or anything, but if you want just a beer or something that shouldn’t give you a hangover,” Quackity told him.
Well… while the idea of having a drink did sound nice, that one night on the playground still hadn’t been enough to win Tommy over to the side of enjoying beer.
He must’ve made a face at that, because Wilbur laughed. “What about something else besides beer, but still won’t get you drunk?”
“Uh, sure, but I dunno what to get.”
“Give him cider,” Wilbur told Quackity. Then, he glanced back at Tommy with a warm smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll like this.”
Nodding, Quackity filled up a glass with a pale, gold liquid that looked nearly identical to the beer Wilbur was drinking. Tommy frowned as he handed it to him, unsure if cider was supposed to be like apple cider, or if it was something else entirely.
Before he could take a sip though, everyone with their shots were lifting them into the air, while Wilbur followed suit with his beer, making Tommy do the same with his cider.
“To Wilbur, for giving us an excuse to get drunk on a weeknight!” Jack declared.
Wilbur rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway as everyone downed their shots. Even though they didn’t have shots, Tommy and Wilbur both took sips of their drinks to join in anyway.
As soon as the cider hit Tommy’s tongue, his eyes widened, and he snapped his head towards Wilbur. “Is this just fucking apple juice?!”
“It doesn’t taste like alcohol, right?” Wilbur grinned. “It’s got roughly the same alcohol content as a beer would, maybe a little less, but you can barely taste it.”
Holy shit. Holy shit. This was delicious. There was the faintest hint of something sharp lining the crisp apple taste, but it was easy to ignore, and Tommy grinned as he took a large swig of the drink.
Meanwhile, everyone else was wincing after their shots. Aimsey and Ranboo were fighting over a glass of soda which seemed to be their chaser, while Jack coughed and Tubbo was grimacing. The only ones seemingly unaffected by the taste of the tequila were Quackity, Phil, and Niki.
“That’s some good stuff, Quackity,” Phil said, setting down his shot glass and resting his elbows on the bar. “Very smooth.”
“Are you kidding? That’s fucking horrible!” Aimsey exclaimed, looking like they wanted to gag while Ranboo was gulping down the soda like it was his lifeline.
Quackity snickered. “God, I forgot how funny it is to watch kids take shots for the first time.”
“I’m literally gonna be twenty-one in a few months,” Aimsey protested.
“I’m not. I’m a child and that was terrible,” Ranboo muttered, resting his forehead against the bar.
“You’re not gonna hurl, are you?” Techno asked, raising an eyebrow. “Because if you are, I’m not cleaning it up. You are.”
Ranboo shook his head. “Nope, I- I’m good,” he said, although he still seemed a bit green.
Tommy grinned as he took another sip of his cider. Maybe the shots would’ve been fun another night, but he was pretty happy with his choice of drink for the time being.
The party resumed with everyone dispersing into their own conversations once again. Tommy wrapped one hand around his cider glass, before noticing a tray of fries sitting on the counter, and reached for a handful to shove in his mouth.
While he was chewing, he felt a tap on his back, and glanced over to see Wilbur giving him a curious look.
“You know you can take your backpack off, right?”
Oh yeah. Tommy had forgotten he had it on.
Wait. Tommy had forgotten about the backpack entirely, including the very important thing inside of it.
Eyes going wide, Tommy washed down the rest of his fries with another swig of cider, before setting down the glass and turning to Wilbur.
“Oh fuck, I almost forgot-” He set the backpack on the floor, crouching down to unzip it and take out the carefully wrapped present hidden behind his sketchbook.
Wilbur’s own eyes widened as a mirror to Tommy’s when he saw the present. “You little liar!”
Tommy grinned as he set the present on the counter, leaving his backpack on the floor in the meantime. “Yeah, I lied a bit. Thought it’d be funny.”
“Seriously man, you didn’t have to get me anything, especially not after-”
“Oh shut up, I wanted to get you something,” Tommy huffed, shoving the present towards him.
Wilbur’s eyes softened as he took in Tommy’s shitty attempt at wrapping, with the random pieces of tape and the awkward folding that looked like it could’ve been done by a five year old. There was an envelope taped to the front of the present itself, and Wilbur detached that first, flipping it around to the back so he could open it.
Tommy’s heart was pounding in his chest, his gut twisting into knots as Wilbur snapped open the envelope. Suddenly, he was regretting what he’d written on Wilbur’s card. He’d done it in a moment of impulsivity, but now that he was here and Wilbur was about to see it- fuck. Fuck fuck fuck- what if he ruined everything? What if he’d misinterpreted how close they were?
It was too late now. He couldn’t rip the card out of Wilbur’s hands, so he just had to swallow his nerves, and try not to throw up as he watched him take out the card and flip it to the front.
Tommy had this thing where he liked giving people incorrect cards for their birthday. Like one time when it was Sam’s birthday, he’d gotten him a card that read, ‘Happy 5th Birthday to the best daughter in the world,’ but had added a ‘3’ in front of the ‘5’ so it read ‘35th Birthday’ instead. Sam had found it extremely funny, and Tommy kept doing it anytime he needed to get a card for someone after that.
The card Wilbur was holding had ‘Happy Birthday to a very special Grandpa!’ written across it in blocky text. It was obviously supposed to be given from a little kid to their grandparent, but Tommy had crossed out the word ‘grandpa’ and instead wrote ‘brother’ above it in shaky handwriting.
Tommy hadn’t known if Wilbur would ever be his brother again when he moved here back in June. But in only three months, somehow Wilbur had slotted back into his life as perfectly as he’d been when he left eight years before. Although so much had changed, he was still Wilbur. The brother who used to take him to go get ice cream when he was sad, who would throw him over his shoulder and swing him around just to make him laugh, who would hug him when he cried and held his hand when they went out as a family to make sure he didn’t get lost.
Now he was the brother who played old CD’s during a power outage so they could dance together. He was the brother who somehow figured out what Tommy’s favorite brand of coffee creamer was even though he never told him. He was the brother who hugged Tommy when he was drunk, and made sure he drank water so he didn’t wake up with a hangover.
Wilbur was his brother. That much he was certain.
He just didn’t know if he was Wilbur’s brother too.
His head buzzed as Wilbur stared at the card, his eyes skimming over the word ‘brother’ written in messy sharpie. For a moment, Wilbur didn’t say anything, and Tommy felt like he was going to throw up right then and there.
Then, he opened the card and read the message inside. It wasn’t anything special. Just a quick happy birthday because Tommy really wasn’t the type to write sappy messages in a card. But then Wilbur looked up, and the lump in Tommy’s throat made itself known once again when his brother gave him one of the warmest smiles he’d ever seen.
“Grandpa? Is that another old joke?” Wilbur asked, although his voice was thick, like he was choked up.
Tommy did his best to shove down the warmth blooming in his chest as he shook his head. “It was between that and ‘congrats on the new baby’.”
Wilbur laughed, still smiling with all the warmth inside of him as he turned his attention to the present itself. Tommy was significantly less nervous as he watched Wilbur tear open the horrible wrapping job, revealing the smooth leather underneath.
“It’s a notebook,” Tommy told him, pointing to the cover. “I know yours was getting kind of full, so I figured you should have a new place to put your poetry.”
“This is- wow, this is fucking perfect. Thank-” As Wilbur spoke, he’d opened up the notebook to the first page, and his words died out when he saw what Tommy had drawn inside.
The inside cover and the entire first page had been taken up by a drawing Tommy had spent the past week on, making sure it was as perfect as could be. It was done in pen, with a mix of his original style with some of the sketchiness he’d been trying to replicate from Phil’s doodles.
The drawing itself was of two people sitting down, a plate of split tangerines pieces set between them while rain pattered against the window behind them. On the right, there was the book-head man, wearing the same sweater and collared shirt he always did, holding one tangerine piece between his fingers. Then on the left there was the person in a red hoodie that had always been headless, but now had the sun itself for his head instead, holding another tangerine piece in his own hand.
Nerves sparked through him again as Wilbur looked over the drawing, his expression unreadable behind his glasses. There was a beat of silence as he took it in, and Tommy was about to ask him what he thought, when suddenly he was being yanked into a hug.
Wilbur wrapped his arms around him so tight, Tommy found himself struggling to breathe. Still, he didn’t dare pull away as Wilbur hugged him, and melted into it instead.
“I love you,” Wilbur whispered, sounding even more choked up than he had been before.
Oh.
“I love you too” Tommy whispered back, without a second of hesitation. “So is it okay that- that I called you-”
“Yes, oh god, of course you’re my brother,” Wilbur said, pulling back just a bit so he could see Tommy’s face. “Fuck, I didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable by saying it but- I missed my little brother so much.”
Tommy wasn’t sure if he wanted to laugh or cry, but he settled for burying his face in Wilbur’s shoulder again. “I missed you so fucking much. Wil.”
Warmth washed over his entire body, wrapping around him almost as tightly as Wilbur’s arms. It was like a monumental weight had been lifted off his shoulders hearing Wilbur call him his brother again. Fuck. He’d missed this so much, it was hard to believe he’d survived all those years without it.
The two stayed like that for a few moments, when they were interrupted by the sound of a camera going off.
Opening his eyes, Tommy saw Phil pointing his phone camera at them while they hugged, something like pride shining on his face.
“This is fucking adorable,” he said, taking another picture.
“Oh fuck off,” Tommy grumbled, detaching himself from Wilbur and flipping the camera off.
Phil laughed and took another picture. “That’s going in the photo album.”
“You’re such a sap, Dad,” Wilbur scoffed, taking another sip of his beer as he closed the notebook, so as to make sure the drawing wasn’t visible to anyone else.
“Oh shut up. This is the first birthday you’ve spent with Tommy in years, so sue me for wanting pictures,” Phil shot back.
That seemed to strike a chord with Wilbur. His face softened, and he held out a hand for Phil’s phone in silent question. Phil handed it to him immediately, and Wilbur pulled up the picture, tilting the screen so Tommy could see it.
It was a sweet photo. Tommy’s face was almost completely invisible because he was so burrowed in Wilbur’s shoulder, his blonde hair tickling Wilbur’s cheek. Wilbur’s face was also mostly hidden, but Tommy could see the hint of a smile in the little part that was visible.
“I guess you can keep this one,” Wilbur huffed with that same hint of a smile, handing the phone back to Phil.
“I appreciate it,” Phil snorted, pocketing his phone. “Might consider using it as a reference for a painting. Nothing super recognizable, just the poses and all that.”
“That would be cool,” Wilbur hummed, leaning back against the bar. Tommy mirrored him, taking another sip of his cider and noticing that there was a low buzzing in the back of his head now.
Huh. Guess it really was alcoholic.
“How’s that other painting of yours going? The one you haven’t been able to finish?” Wilbur continued, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh!” Phil took his phone out again, pulling up another picture. “Tommy already saw this yesterday, but I finally finished it.”
Wilbur’s eyes widened as Phil showed him the photo of the painting, and Tommy leaned over his shoulder, eager to see it again even if it paled in comparison to seeing the painting in person.
For the most part, the painting hadn’t changed. There was still the dark silhouette of the woman wearing a large hat, there was still the fog rolling in over the meadow, and there were still dark birds flying around above her head.
But now there was one more figure silhouetted by the fog. A man knelt down in front of the woman, large wings protruding from his back and stretching out above his head, as if they were trying to act as a shield for the woman. The fact that the two figures were obscured by the fog gave the whole painting a haunting quality, but there was something beautiful about it as well.
“Holy shit,” Wilbur breathed, zooming in on the picture to take in the details. “This looks so good.”
“Thanks mate,” Phil said, something fond flashing over his eyes as he gazed at the picture. “Tommy actually gave me the idea for how to fix it.”
Wilbur’s head whipped up. “Wait, seriously?”
“He’s exaggerating,” Tommy quickly said. “I literally just asked if he ever wished he had wings since he has so much bird-related crap in his house. Then he sprinted to the easel like a fucking madman and started painting without saying a damn word.”
“You gave me inspiration and I didn’t wanna lose it,” Phil told him, chuckling a bit.
“Well, glad the Tommy Innit charm could be so inspiring,” Tommy teased, puffing up his chest and making Phil laugh even more.
Wilbur, meanwhile, was still focused on the painting. He’d zoomed in on the silhouette of the woman, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses.
“The hat the woman is wearing… it looks like that silly one mum got from that charity shop,” Wilbur said quietly.
Oh. Wilbur’s mum.
The smile faded from Phil’s face. “Uh, yeah. That was a bit intentional on my end.” He held out his hand again for the phone, and Wilbur handed it back to him. There was a beat as Phil stared at the image of the two silhouettes, a crease forming between his brows the longer he looked. “The name of this painting is gonna be ‘Death and Her Angel.’”
While it seemed like a part of Wilbur wanted to ask Phil more about the painting, after a beat, he nodded and turned back to his drink. “I think it’s really good, Dad.”
“Thanks. I like to think she would’ve liked it too,” Phil said quietly, pocketing his phone and resting a hand on Wilbur’s shoulder.
For a moment, Tommy wondered if he should try to go join another conversation, because he didn’t want to be intruding on Phil and Wilbur while they thought about Wilbur’s mum. But before he could try to edge away, another voice rang out across the pub, making everyone else fall silent.
“Quackity said we can turn music on!” Niki announced, smiling brightly as she passed her phone over the bar.
“I am not dancing,” Techno said, folding his arms over his chest and shaking his head.
Niki pouted at Techno as Quackity plugged her phone into the aux, but her pout was quickly erased when Jack grabbed her arm. Jack himself was definitely swaying a bit, but he seemed to be having a good time as he and Niki made their way to the middle of the room.
“What do you want me to play?” Quackity asked.
“Just press shuffle on the playlist I had open!” Niki told him.
“Are we dancing?” Aimsey said, jumping to their feet.
“We are if I can get this music on,” Quackity muttered, tapping a few things on Niki’s phone. “And…”
Suddenly, a jaunty tune composed of piano and guitar began to ring out overhead, and Niki and Jack both cheered. Aimsey grabbed Ranboo by the hand and dragged him to the middle near Niki and Jack as well, right as the lyrics began to ring out.
”I could hang about and burn my fingers, I’ve been hanging out here waiting for something to starttttt.”
Although Tommy wasn’t sure if he’d heard this song before, it was an infectious tune, and he began to bounce in place along with the beat. Niki and Jack were already spinning around, while Aimsey and Ranboo were swaying in time with the rhythm.
“Wil! Get out here!” Niki called out, gesturing for him to join them.
Wilbur considered this for a moment, before turning to look at Tommy. “I’ll go if you come with me.”
Tommy grinned at his brother, having no problem with that arrangement. “Alright then, let’s go.”
The two ran out to join the others in the middle. Niki grabbed Wilbur’s hands and spun him around in a circle, while Tommy found himself doing some goofy swaying move while snapping his fingers as a mirror to Jack.
”I could dance all night like I’m a soul boy.”
“Tubbo, get out here!” Aimsey shouted.
Tubbo shook his head. “Nahhhhhh.”
“Aw c’mon, Tubs!” Tommy called out. “Have some fun!”
Before Tubbo could shake his head again, he was being lifted into the air, and screeched as Techno threw him over his shoulder like he weighed little more than a bundle of grapes. Tubbo kicked in the air trying to get out of his grip, but Techno just huffed as he set Tubbo down right in front of Tommy.
“Fuck you,” Tubbo spat, glaring at Techno.
Techno snorted. “Yeah yeah, let Tommy teach you how to dance. It’s free entertainment for the rest of us.”
He headed back to the bar, while Tommy grinned at Tubbo who gave him a flat stare in return. But to Tommy’s surprise, Tubbo didn’t fight as Tommy dragged him into the center of their makeshift dance floor, holding his hands and swinging their arms from side to side.
”When I am numbering my foes, just hope that you are on my side, my dearrrrrrrr!”
Suddenly, violins kicked into the song, and Tommy found his smile growing as the music began to pick up. He and Tubbo spun around each other for a moment, before new hands were pulling him away, and he realized Niki was the one spinning him now.
”There’s too much love to go around these days!” The chorus rang out, and Tommy beamed when he saw Wilbur dragging Phil out to join them.
Everything was a flurry of dancing and spinning. Hands were grabbed as partners switched, Tommy kept bumping into people, the cheerful music was blasting overhead, and Tommy was dizzy with how happy he was right now.
The second round of, ”There’s too much love!” echoed off the walls as Tommy found himself dancing with Phil, and Phil was tripping over his own feet but still somehow staying upright as he spun Tommy in circles over and over again.
The lyrics faded out, but the music kept going. Tommy was passed to another dance partner, and laughed when he saw Wilbur’s hair was sticking up in several directions, presumably from all the spinning he’d been doing. They immediately jumped into their own dance, twirling and spinning and definitely slamming into other people. At one point Wilbur sent Tommy flying straight into Ranboo, and it was a miracle Ranboo didn’t fall over which would’ve led to both of them being on the ground.
No one fell though. Laughter bounced off the walls as Tommy stepped on feet and had elbows slam into his sides. It was messy but it was fun, and the warmth blooming through Tommy was all-encompassing. It radiated in his chest like he held the sun itself in there, and he knew that this had to be one of the happiest nights he’d had in a long time.
The rest of the night passed by without any issues. Puffy stopped by at one point with some extra muffins from the diner, because Tommy had mentioned the party in passing to her during his shift that morning. They convinced her to stay for a drink, and although she didn’t stick around for long, the muffins went along amazingly with the cake.
Hours passed, and things began to wind down. The cake was gone, everyone was tired out from dancing, and Jack was on the verge of passing out from everything he’d had to drink. They all made a team effort of cleaning up the bar and closing it down for the night, and then Techno piled Aimsey, Ranboo, and Tubbo into his car, while Quackity dragged Niki and Jack into his own. Phil and Wilbur were both deemed okay to drive, and after Techno and Quackity pulled out of the parking lot, that just left the three of them on their own.
“I hope you had a good birthday, mate,” Phil told Wilbur as he pulled back from a hug.
“I did. Probably one of the best ones I’ve had in a while.”
“I’m glad,” Phil said, before his focus shifted to Tommy. “We still on for tomorrow?”
Tommy nodded. “Yup! I’ll head over right after I finish my shift.”
Phil grinned. “Sounds good. I’m thinking of breaking out the watercolors soon, so maybe I’ll let you mess around with those.”
“Holy shit, that’d be so cool!” Tommy exclaimed.
“We’ll see if I’m in a watercolor mood tomorrow,” Phil chuckled. Then, he was reaching out to hug Tommy, and Tommy squeezed his shoulders tight before letting go to step back beside Wilbur.
“Drive safe!” Wilbur called out as Phil turned to head back to his car.
“You too!” Phil yelled back.
With one last wave, Wilbur and Tommy both climbed into the car, watching Phil as he drove out of the lot and onto the main road. Then, Wilbur switched the car into drive, and they left The Duck’s Head behind.
Neither one spoke during the drive back. It was far from an awkward silence. Instead, it was the content, tired silence that followed a really great night. Tommy slumped back against the car seat, watching the orange streetlights fly by in a blur of color. Everything was hazy—the car heater blasting against his face, the view of the road through the windshield, even Tommy’s own thoughts. He was tired, but he was happy. So unbelievably happy.
There was a buzz from his pocket. Taking out his phone, Tommy saw he had a text, and some of the haze burned away when he saw the notification.
Sam: How did the party go?
Tommy: it went really well!!
Tommy: i think wil had a really good time
Sam: Oh I’m glad
Sam: Did you have fun??
Tommy: lol yeah I had a fucking great time
Tommy: i’m so tired now tho
Sam: You should try to get some sleep
Tommy: i’m in the car rn wil’s driving us back
Sam: Ah
Sam: Well try to go to bed soon ok?
Tommy: like you’re not gonna be up till 3 am working on some programming code shit
Sam: Well-
Sam: Hm
Sam: Ok you got me there
Tommy: lmao sure do
Tommy: i’ll go to bed soon tho dw
Sam: Ty
Sam: Night Tommy
Tommy: night sam
Putting his phone back down, Tommy stared out the window for the rest of the drive back home. It wasn’t long before they were pulling into the driveway, with Wilbur as always waiting for the current song he was playing to finish before cutting the engine. Tommy groaned loudly as he climbed out of the car, and Wilbur yawned while walking to the front door.
Cool night air wrapped around him and threaded up his hoodie, making goosebumps rise along his arms as a breeze passed down the street. It was another reminder that the suffocating heat of summer was finally gone, with chilly autumn wind taking its place.
Wilbur unlocked the front door and Tommy shuffled inside, blinking a few times to keep his head up. The house was pitch black, and when Wilbur went to flick on the lights-
Nothing happened.
“Oh, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Wilbur’s disembodied voice rang out in the darkness.
“Wil, did you see the streetlights on when we turned onto our street?” Tommy asked, having been a bit too zoned out to remember if they were on or not.
Wilbur paused for a moment, thinking. Then,
“Fucking hell, I don’t think they were.”
Great. Another power outage.
“Alright,” Tommy groaned, shaking himself to try and wake up a bit. “Let’s get the candles on.”
Tommy turned his phone flashlight on, illuminating the foyer in a harsh, white glow. He moved to grab one of the battery-powered candles they kept by the door, but Wilbur reached out to stop him before he could.
“Wil, what-”
“Before you turn any lights on, I actually have something I wanna show you,” Wilbur said, his smile unusually sharp in the dark. “Come with me.”
Tommy didn’t have the energy to question Wilbur as he led them through the living room, using his own phone flashlight to keep them from tripping over their own furniture. He opened the backdoor, and Tommy found himself intensely grateful for the fact that the heat wave had broken, so they didn’t have to worry about not having the aircon tonight.
Wilbur led him out into the patchy backyard that they never bothered to go into because of how small and dry it was. By the light of their flashlights, Wilbur led Tommy over to a ladder he had propped up against the side of the house, and Tommy vaguely wondered if he was at the start of some horror movie with how weird this whole situation was.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Tommy asked as Wilbur began to climb up the ladder.
“We’re going to the roof,” Wilbur told him, glasses nearly falling off his nose as he grinned down at Tommy.
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Well, like that wasn’t ominous as fuck.
On the one hand, a part of Tommy wanted to tell Wilbur this seemed sketchy as hell and go pass out in his bed like his body was begging him to do. But on the other hand, Wilbur seemed genuinely excited to show him whatever he was going to show him, and… well, he was kind of curious.
So with a loud huff, Tommy climbed up the ladder behind Wilbur. He watched Wilbur clamber onto the roof first, carefully shuffling over the unstable surface and settling himself close to the middle. Then, he held up his flashlight to make it easier for Tommy to see, and gestured for him to come join him.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Tommy asked, warily eyeing the roof tiles.
“I’ve done this plenty of times before. It’s fine!” Wilbur reassured him.
Biting back a sigh, Tommy pocketed his phone and clambered over the ladder and onto the roof itself. The tiles were slippery under his shoes, and he cursed a few times as he shuffled towards Wilbur. It actually wasn’t as bad as it seemed though, and he was able to keep himself relatively steady until he made it to his brother’s side again.
“Okay, now lay down,” Wilbur instructed. Tommy did as he was told, laying next to Wilbur so they were both on their backs, staring up at the sky.
“Look at the stars,” Wilbur then said.
With that, he turned off his flashlight.
And the sky lit up.
So many more stars than usual were stretched across the canvas of black above their heads. They shone brilliantly, twinkling and flickering like they were part of some unorchestrated dance. In a way, they almost reminded Tommy of chips of ice, with how crisp and clear they were compared to most nights he found himself looking up at the sky.
“Holy shit,” Tommy breathed.
“Pretty incredible, right? It was too hot to do this during the last outage we had, but one of my favorite things to do when the power is out at night is go stargazing,” Wilbur told him, his voice low despite the fact that it was just the two of them out here.
Tommy could understand why. Without all the lights from the streetlamps and the neighboring houses, the stars were nothing short of incredible.
“I used to do this a lot when I was a teenager,” Wilbur continued after a minute of silence. “After me and Phil moved out, I would climb onto the roof of the house we had and spend hours just watching the stars—not even during a power outage.”
“I get why. It’s really relaxing,” Tommy said quietly, gaze still fixated on the twinkling chips of ice.
Another beat.
“I thought about you a lot, during those nights I went stargazing when I was a kid,” Wilbur confessed, resting his hands behind his head. “I mean, I thought about a lot of things. School, girls, my classes—all normal teenager shit. But I also thought about you. How much I wished I could show you the stars I was looking at, and teach you the names of all the constellations I knew.”
The lump in Tommy’s throat was back, and he took a shaky breath to steady himself.
“I used to imagine that one day, I’d wake up and you and Phil would be back,” Tommy admitted, his own voice small. “That I would find out it was all just a bad dream, and you would wake me up for school because Phil was making you drive me, and I’d pretend to cry because you hit me in the face with the pillow and I wanted to get you in trouble, and… I dunno, I used to think about stuff like that a lot.”
There was a moment of silence, and this wasn’t a relaxed silence like before. A heaviness had settled between them now, and Tommy cursed himself for ruining the mood.
But then,
“I wish I could go back and change shit,” Wilbur whispered. “You don’t know how badly I wish I could go back and smack my twenty-one year old self in the head and tell him to reply to your fucking Facebook messages.”
“You got busy, it happens,” Tommy shrugged. “Plus, it’d already been four years since we’d seen each other at that point. I was fourteen, and while I don’t wanna say that I’d gotten over it, I just… had other shit to worry about.”
Wilbur hummed. “Yeah, that’s true. Then I guess I wish that I could go back and smack my seventeen year old self in the head, and tell him to- just- I don’t know, find a way to keep in touch with you or something.”
Tommy thought back to what Phil had said about trying to cut all contact with his mum to try and force her to seek help.
“I don’t think Phil would’ve let you,” Tommy told him.
“I… yeah, I guess you’re right,” Wilbur relented, letting out a soft breath. “I just wish things had been different.”
It was easy to understand what Wilbur was trying to say. He wished that they hadn’t gotten separated in the first place. Even though in retrospect, Tommy knew that wasn’t possible because Phil couldn’t have just stayed with his mother, he sometimes found himself wishing the same thing.
“Me too,” Tommy whispered. “But hey, we found each other again, right?”
Wilbur nodded, and Tommy felt an arm wrap around his shoulders, tugging him into Wilbur’s side.
“Yeah, we did,” Wilbur whispered back.
They stayed like that for a few moments, breathing in sync as Tommy watched the stars, the warmth from the arm Wilbur had wrapped around him shielding him from the cool breeze blowing down the street.
It was quiet. There was the distant sound of a chirping cricket, but nothing else besides the low inhales and exhales of their own breathing.
Tommy thought back to the times he’d lay in bed with his mum during her bad days. How sometimes when she slept, he’d nestle into her side, and she’d wrap an arm around him even while she was unconscious. He would listen to the soft huffs of her breathing, and tried to convince himself that when she woke up, she’d be okay again. He just had to be patient.
Wilbur’s breathing was steady under his head. His brother was okay. He wasn’t perfect, but he was okay, and that was all Tommy wanted to know.
After all, he had other people he could go to if his patience was wearing thin. If Tommy was struggling, he didn’t have to handle it all on his own. And if Tommy got sick, or if he had a bad day himself, he’d be taken care of too. Whether by Wilbur, or by the others, like Phil, Niki, Aimsey, Ranboo, Tubbo—and everyone else too.
Tommy could breathe. He could breathe for the first time in years, and he wasn't sure if air had ever tasted so sweet.
“I really liked that drawing you gave me today,” Wilbur then said, cutting into Tommy’s thoughts. “I think it might be my favorite one I’ve seen from you yet.”
The darkness around them was suddenly a blessing as Tommy flushed in embarrassment again at the compliment. “Really?”
“Yeah, I can tell you’re improving a lot,” Wilbur told him. “Also, in all your other drawings, you never gave yourself an object for a head, but in this one you did.”
“Yeah,” Tommy hummed, “I did.”
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but can I ask why you chose the sun?” Wilbur asked, his voice gentle and free of judgement. “I’ve said this before, but seeing your art kind of… gives me an idea of what you’re thinking, but I don’t know why you chose that for yourself. I’m curious what your thought process was for that.”
Oh.
A part of Tommy wasn’t sure if he wanted to tell Wilbur his reasoning for that. It was a decision he struggled with while he was drawing that piece, and he second-guessed himself about a hundred times before settling on that design. It was something he was happy with now, but he wasn’t sure if it would sound stupid when he said it out loud.
“Um, it might sound dumb,” Tommy warned him.
“Tommy, no answer you give me could be dumb,” Wilbur scoffed. “It’s your art. The meaning you give to it is important, no matter what it is.”
Shoving down his nerves, Tommy nodded, fiddling with the cuffs of one of his sleeves. “Okay, well, I usually try to choose the heads I give to people based on things about them that just kind of… represent them to me? Like yours is a book because of your job and your poetry, but also because you’re just really smart. I feel like I can ask you for advice on anything and you’ll know exactly what to tell me.”
Wilbur made a surprised noise at that. “I mean, I’m flattered but I really don’t know what the hell I’m doing. You know that, right?”
Tommy snorted. “You know more than me, and that’s all I need,” he explained. “Anyway, I couldn’t really figure out what I wanted to draw for myself, because I wasn’t sure what would represent me. I wasn’t sure what I meant to other people like that, so I just thought it made the most sense to not give myself a head.” He paused then, taking a breath to steady himself. “But then when I was drawing that, I tried to think of it in a bit of a different way. I didn’t have to draw myself as what I thought I was to other people, but I could draw what I wanted to be, if that makes sense? Not really a, ‘this is who I am’ but more of a, ‘this is what I’m aiming for.’”
“Oh,” Wilbur breathed, realization settling over him. “You want to be the sun.”
Clenching his jaw, Tommy resisted the urge to turn away and nodded instead. “It’s- It’s fucking corny, I know. But I just wanna be… I dunno, I wanna make people happy. The sun just kind of represents happiness and warmth and-” he cut himself off, the last bit of that sentence dying out on his tongue.
The sun can warm itself as well as others.
That part he could keep for himself.
“This sounds so fucking corny when I say it out loud, man,” he said instead after a moment.
“It’s not,” Wilbur told him immediately. “That’s not corny at all, I promise.”
Tommy frowned. “It really is.”
“It’s not,” Wilbur repeated, squeezing his shoulders. “I actually think that’s perfect for you.”
“You… You really think I can be like that?” Tommy asked, sounding far more fragile than he wanted to.
There was a beat of silence as Wilbur considered this. Tommy’s heartbeat echoed in his ears.
“I think you’re already there,” Wilbur then said, and Tommy’s heart squeezed.
He could’ve denied it. He could’ve told Wilbur he didn’t think he was that good of a person, and that it was a goal that he didn’t think he would ever reach, but figured he should strive for anyway.
Or he could’ve brought up the unsaid part of his explanation. That he wasn’t happy with just himself at the moment, so he couldn’t be the sun, because he wasn’t warming himself yet.
But he was fairly certain that if he did, Wilbur would just double down. And again, there were certain things he could keep to himself. That was okay. There could be a hidden meaning in his art that was just for him to keep close to his chest. Because he started drawing to try and cheer his mother up, but now he wanted it to be for himself first and foremost. It was something he loved, and it was always going to be something he did because he wanted to.
So instead of arguing, he just nodded and shifted to a more comfortable position against Wilbur’s side. “Thanks Wil,” he whispered.
“Of course,” Wilbur whispered back.
Quiet fell over them again for a few minutes. Tommy counted the stars in the sky, his eyes lingering on the pleiades star cluster as it passed by overhead.
“What is your favorite song by the way?” Wilbur suddenly asked, cutting into Tommy’s thoughts.
Tommy blinked. “Huh?”
“Your first day here, I asked you what your favorite song was and you said you didn’t have one. I knew that was bullshit, but… I dunno, I didn’t know if I could press you about it or not, so I just left it alone.” The arm around his shoulder shifted, so Wilbur’s hand was resting on Tommy’s hair. “What’s your favorite song though? I wanna know.”
When Wilbur had asked him about his favorite song that first day, Tommy knew the answer right off the top of his head. But he hadn’t wanted to say it, because Wilbur would know exactly why it was his favorite, and he wasn’t sure if it was okay to even bring those memories up again. At least not when things were still so uncertain between them.
But now there was none of that hesitation. There was no more uncertainty between him and his brother.
“Bitter Sweet Symphony,” Tommy said softly.
“Oh.” Wilbur paused, the realization setting in. “Oh, fuck, yeah.”
“You remember?” Tommy asked, keeping his eyes fixed on the stars.
“Yeah, I remember. That was one of our go-to’s when dad and your mum would be making dinner,” Wilbur said, and Tommy could hear the smile in his voice.
Tommy nodded. “Yeah, we’d all dance to it. It’s one of the clearest memories I have from when you two lived with us.”
Wilbur considered this for a moment, still holding Tommy close to his side.
Then, he was shifting around, using his free hand to dig into his pocket. He pulled out his phone again, the bright screen making Tommy since since his eyes had gotten used to the darkness. When Wilbur turned down the screen, Tommy was able to open his eyes again, and watched Wilbur pull up the song.
There was the slow swell of violins as the song began to play, and a warm, but painful ache bloomed in his chest.
”’Cause it’s a bitter sweet symphony, that’s lifeeeee,” the singer crooned as the lyrics began to play.
The memories played out behind his eyes, and he imagined his mum gasping in delight as the song came on, grabbing Tommy and swinging him around. Phil would pick him up and spin him until he squealed, Wilbur would toss him over his shoulder and twirl until Tommy was kicking at him to stop.
It was a bittersweet memory. One that he used to look back and wish he could forget, because it only ever served to remind him of what he’d lost.
But that wasn’t the case anymore.
”I’ll take you down the only road I’ve ever been down.”
“Tommy?”
“Yeah?”
”You know the one that takes you to the places where all the veins meet, yeah.”
“I’m throwing you the best fucking birthday party you’re ever gonna have next April.”
Laughing, Tommy shifted so his head was resting on Wilbur’s shoulder. The stars were still twinkling above them, but he found his eyes fluttering shut anyway. He was going to have plenty of other opportunities to stargaze with his older brother now.
“Alright, Wil. Just don’t let Tubbo light any candles.”
”No change, I can change, I can change, I can change.”
“Don’t worry,” Wilbur murmured. “I won’t.”
Tommy didn’t hear the rest of the song after that. The ache in his chest was still there, but it was bearable. It was never going to fully go away, but Tommy could live with it, and that was enough.
His life right now was more than enough.