Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

See, Tommy was weak. 
Well- not emotionally, but both in physical stats and his immune system.

They- or rather, Wilbur and Jordan (Captain Sparklez)- found that out when Tommy was getting sick more and more often, and when they took him to the doctor.
Wilbur still remembers the feeling of horror when he heard the news.

Then he remembers the feeling of anger when Philza never came home, despite the fifteen letters he sent. FIFTEEN. FUCKIN. LETTERS.

Jordan presses a cool and damp rag on Tommy's head, frowning at Wilbur, who sits at his desk, clutching yet another unfinished letter. 
"Wilbur, I think that's enough. Tommy-"
"JORDAN!" He flinches. "DAD IS NOT HOME, AND TOMMY IS SUFFERING!! HE DOESN'T DESERVE THIS FUCKIN SHIT- AND IF HE SUFFERS, DAD HAS TO BE HERE TO HELP! BECAUSE I CANNOT SHARE THE BURDEN ALONE, AND YOU ARE NOT ENOUGH!!"

Wilbur's eyes widened, upon the last part. "W-Wait- I-"
"It's alright, It's alright. I'm sorry." Jordan says, understandingly. He wasn't hurt, he understood why he snapped.

Albeit to them, Tommy was listening the entire time. He was only 5 then, but he felt an odd feeling in his heart start like a flame.

Tommy's 8! He's so happy!
Wilbur smiles, as he watches everyone celebrate the little child's birthday.

However, the one thing to make him frown, is that he notices Philza and Techno not being here. He didn't mind Techno much, but he scoffs at Phil. He couldn't bring himself to call him Dad.

"-OMMY!" Aphmau's scream broke him out of it, as he looked over frantically, seeing Tommy's collapsed.
He rushes over, immediately cradling the boy into his arms. "Shh-- Shhh- what happened?!" He asks, as he checks to see if there were any wounds.

"I- I don't know! Jordan was entertaining him, a-and then all of a sudden he fainted-" Dan panics, as he is told by Wilbur- moreso ordered- to go grab water, and a rag. And his medicine. 

Dan runs as fast as his legs could take him as he enters the bathroom, panting out of breath, as he goes through the cabinet- paling, seeing so many medication. 
Fudge... which one did Wilbur want?
Tylenol.

He blinks, taking the red box out, as he rushes to the stairs- before seeing everyone's moved Tommy to his bedroom, so he enters there. "I got it-!"

"Thanks, Thank you-" Jordan took it from him, handing the rag to Wilbur, as he pours the Tylenol into the small cup.

Tears came down, as he tried his very best to make his little bro comfortable. 

"T-Tommy.. you're- You're going to be okay- I promise-"
"W...Wi'by..d-d'nt... feel s' g'd..." 
"I know, I know-" Wilbur shakily says, not even sure if he'll be alright. 

The sound of whimpers was the only response he got, as he panicked more, just tending to his brother the best he could.

He was 12 now.
And.. he was more... aware, to put it. 

He noticed how much he's made Wil worry, and he hated it. 

So.. From then on, he promised himself he would stop making him worry so much. 

If only he knew how bad this would backfire. 

Tommy covered his mouth, to muffle his coughs. 
Oh.. today sucked. 

Why? Because he was very, very weak.
And his father was coming home for the first time in three weeks.
He would be happy, but again-

Why would he? He never did anything for Tommy and Wilbur, why should he be happy to see the old man? 


He coughed again, as Philza hugged him briefly, before heading over to go embrace his older brother- yet Wilbur moved away, giving some excuse that he was busy.

A flash of hurt passed his face, but he nods, going to put away his valuables.

He fails to notice Tommy's health drastically declining- in fact, they all do. 
Just as he wanted it to be. 

Tommy's.. what now..?

It didn't.. come to him.

He was coughing, coughing, throwing up- just in agony.

It backfired a lot- faking he was alright- now he was sick- maybe on his deathbed, who knows- with a worried as fuck Wilbur.

"Wh- Why the fuck did you not tell me you were getting worse?!" Wilbur yelled, for the fifth time- 

"Because I don't want you to worry, Wilbur!" Tommy sat up, coughing, as he glared at him. 

"Not worry? Toms- THIS is worrying me, so much! The fact that you could- or already are- dying- and- and Da-..." Wil stopped. "Phil's.. not home, is terrible- no, not terrible- I- FUCK!" He grips his hair, pulling it, before he started crying. "I- I just.. Tommy- Tommy please- you're all I have left, please- please I don't want you to be gone too..!" He gently moves his hands to hold Tommy's weak and fragile ones. 

"Wilby, I promise- I- As long as you're here, I am not going anywhere." Tommy smiled. Wilbur shakily smiled. "Y-Yeah... Yeah.. G-Good.."

Chapter Text

It was all a sudden blur.

"PLEASE- PLEASE SOMEONE- ANYONE- ANYONE HELP HIM PLEASE! I CAN'T- I CAN'T LOSE HIM!!" Wilbur screams, as the paramedics rush to help.
He is held back by Jordan- whom lived next door- or maybe a few doors down? He can't remember.

Wilbur clenches his fist, squishing his hold on the cow plushie- as soon as he noticed what he was doing, his anger diminished just a little, as he slightly relaxed his grip. 
He started sobbing, as someone patted his back solemnly.

"I'm so sorry for your loss, sir, how old was your son?" They would ask, as his heart hurt.
"He's-.. He's not my son. He's my brother. He was- was only 15..." Then they gasp, feeling horrible- and try their best to console him- yet he'd always ask to be alone.

He sat alone, in the kitchen, the pot filled with water beginning to boil- to make spaghetti. 
He played with a napkin, as he heard the timer go off. He stood up, taking a step forward- 



and slipped. 

His body collided harshly against the cold floor, as he groaned in agony, looking over at what he tripped over. 

A crayon broken in two. He blinked- Tommy did always leave crayons lying around.
He sighs, getting up. "Tommy.." No response. "Tommy!" He tried again. "Tommy I swear to god if you don't-" Then it hit him.

He blinked, slowly falling down to his knees, sobbing- or breaking into tears. 

He then slowly got up, trudging to the stove, to.. to make spaghetti. 
His mind wandered while he did so.

Wilbur had been gone for a few hours, having to go run some errands that he absolutely needed to do. 
He sighs, getting out of his car, locking the door thanks to his car keys and remote- thing- I don't even know. A smile on his face, he held the bag he had with him as he entered the house after unlocking it. 

"Tommy!" He calls out happily. "I'm back!"

Silence. He frowned. Tommy usually never not responded to him- and even if he did, he would've been asleep- or left a note on the kitchen table to say he was sleeping ("To not worry you." Tommy laughed. "Because I'm getting fuckin sick and tired of you having to care about me- not that I don't want that... but.." He chose not to pry the rest of the sentence from him, only nodding in understanding). 

He ventures to the kitchen, seeing if Tommy had left a note as he said he would do. 



...No note. 

He felt his breath start to pick up, his mind blurring from wishes of sharing this wonderful dinner with his younger brother to worrying if he was fuckin alright or not. 

"TOMMY!!" Wil screams, as he runs all over the house, panicking. 

He soon came across Tommy's room, which was slightly open ajar. 

He slammed it open, and his eyes widened. 

His stomach churned. 

His heart broke. 

His little brother was laying half across the ground and across his bed, unmoving. 



He rushed forwards, kneeling down almost instantly. "No no no no no no- no, fuck- fuck- Tommy- you- you better be fuckin playing with me mate- gremlin child- child please- god-" Wilbur's vision started to blur as hot tears ran down his face. 
He checked for a pulse, any sort of life. 

None. 


He stopped. 


"No... no this- this can't... he..."


He lost all the words- he could not say anything. 


He absentmindedly reached for his phone, pulling it out. 

[Wimblur Sot] : Jod ran. 

What? : [CaptainSparklez]

Pfft mate, are ya drunk? [CaptainSparklez]

[Wimblur Sot] : no jok ng pl ve listsne oyt bme 

[Wimblur Sot] : Listen to me 

What happened? : [CaptainSparklez] 

[Wimblur Sot] : No time to explin. hry. com. hre. now. pls. tommy. 

Jordan paused. And then shot up, throwing his jacket on, as he ran, ran as fast as his legs could take him to his car, to get to Wil's place.

He would regret it later, but he had went over the speed limit- not that it had mattered, his best friend's brother's life was on the line. 



He soon arrived, rushing through the already opened door, as his eyes widened- 

Wil gasped, as his hand accidentally brushed through the burning hot pot, causing his skin to flare up angrily with pink as he backed away, tears rapidly coming down.


"Fuck.." He turned to the sink, turning on the cold water, as he ran his hand under it, mumbling.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck... FUCK!!"

Pissed off and in immense pain, he grabbed a nearby water bottle and chucked it across the room, the bottle bursting open due to improper closing and it's clear contents spilling out, making a slippery mess on the floor. 

Chapter Text

    Wilbur Soot was a man of many talents.
He could sing, probably dance, and.. honestly a bunch of other things. He was very talented. 
Now, he also had many friends and loved ones. 
But one person had left him three years ago. 
  
    Thomas Simons.
His brother. He loved him.. so, so much. And he was gone. To a ridiculous disease— he never should’ve gotten it. To this day, Wibur felt so guilty about the situation. Every aspect of it, he felt he could have changed in some way. SOMEHOW, he knew he should’ve done something- but of course, he never did it. 

Wil had broken ties with Philza, he hadn’t talked to him in a while. He still kept in touch with Dave, though. Occasionally, he does ask the pink-haired fellow how his father is doing, and the answer never strays from the topic- “He’s doing fine, but he misses you.” 
He heard the response so much times that he knew what Dave would say before he said it, and that’s when he stopped asking. Wilbur never really visited Tommy’s grave, out of guilt. Sheer guilt. Sometimes, Jordan forced him to go to the grave, and it usually ended with Wil crying a river and Jordan having to drive him home. Jeez, he was truly pathetic. 

    Wilbur talked to some new friends he gained- and an old friend he didn’t know Tommy made- his name was Toby, but he said apparently Tommy called him Tubbo, or whatever. He didn’t care, he was glad to see him. The stories- albeit, few, but still gold- he told about his short adventures with his sick brother made Wilbur smile- just kids being kids. He often hung out with him more- along with Tubbo’s new friend, Ranboo. He didn’t know what the tall, anxious one’s deal was, but he knew he was nice, so he gave him a chance and he got along with him too.

He also sought therapy for having to be a caretaker at such a young age, and the traumatic events that occurred because of it. Therapy’s been treating him well.

Everything was going great.

    At least, until today.
Today was the anniversary of Tommy’s death. 
He usually sulked around, and didn’t do anything, but apparently Tubbo had called Dave and Jordan and had dragged him out- with the reluctant help of Ranboo- to.. I don’t know, deal with whatever. He obliged simply because he hadn’t seen Dave in ages and felt bad to send him away after he had drove out for so long.


”Guys, please. Can we just.. not-“ “No, this is important! You need to do this!” Jordan interrupted Wilbur, as he groaned in irritation. “But- I can’t, you guys know I can’t—“ 
“We know.” Dave’s cool and relaxed voice broke through Wilbur’s weak and attempting-to-leave one, filling him with slight sense of calm. “But you couldn’t because you were alone. Now, you have us.” Dave smiled slightly, and Wilbur couldn’t help but smile back. Smiles from Dave were as rare as finding a four leaf clover. 
So, Wil allowed the group to bring him to the cemetery, and immediately got a bad feeling. 
“Look, haha- let’s.. let’s ignore this and just go-“ But their grip was firm, and he went slack, paling as they brought him further into the cemetery. They eventually stopped at one grave, and Wilbur just now realized he didn’t have flowers or anything. He mentally slapped himself in the face- God, how stupid are you? You forgot to bring FLOWERS to a GRAVE. How disrespectful.

But Ranboo must’ve seen his terrified look, as he took out a bouquet of flowers, “Don’t worry. We prepared.” and handed it over to the brunette, who thanked him. 
Wilbur spun to face the gravestone, and knelt down. 
“H.. Hi.. Tommy… I’m sorry.. I didn’t come see you..” He looked back, as if to make sure the others stayed. They were still there, and giving him an encouraging smile, making him look at the tombstone again. 
“I… I am so sorry for letting this happen to you, I should’ve been a better brother- I’m so sorry..” He started tearing up, sobbing, as Dave was the first to break from the group, walking over, kneeling down, and embracing Wil. Jordan was next, and then Tubbo and Ranboo, and eventually they all were just in one huge embrace. 

    There, Wilbur found the resolution and resolve he was looking for. He hoped Tommy forgave him, and yes, he was still guilty, but they had mende his heart in a way no therapy session could. He knew he had the others to go to for comfort.


And as they left, a small transparent wisp behind the gravestone had peered up from it’s hiding place, and smiled. 
“I never got older. And I’m sorry for making you feel guilty, so stop worrying over me and fix yourself, make yourself better. That’s all I ever wanted.”


Wilbur swore he heard someone back there, but he didn’t shrug it off. He kept it to himself, knowing who exactly it was- if he was correct- and left the cemetery with his friends. 


    Wilbur Soot was a man of many talents.
He could sing, definitely kind of dance, cook, write amazingly, and play music quite beautifully. 
Now, he also had many friends and loved ones. 
One person left him 5 years ago, but he had moved on. 
He still missed his brother, Thomas Simons, but he knew he would have wanted him to move on. 


And so he did. 

He had a problem- he couldn’t move on. 
And his friends had found his Resolve.